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*A single meeting can completely change perspectives, bring new ideas, change lives and, sometimes, give birth to a legend… *

Chapter 1 - End and new beginning

For the first time in years, he was back in the Northlands and already he felt different. Not necessarily better, but definitely different. The breeze of the North was not just colder, but differently flavored. It just felt and smelled right. He felt at home here, even though he was actually still thousands of miles away from his actual homeland, the kingdom of Kesteven. He was still well south of the place where he had been born, but that didn't quite matter: the influence of Kesteven over the western Northlands was so great that every other kingdom felt, at least in part, like home. He stopped his black, splendid monster of a motorbike near the low parapet of stones that faced the deep, narrow valley to the left of the street, and leaned back slightly, enjoying the sight of the stream that roared its way down that narrow canyon, jumping down a succession of small cascades. The mountains looming on either side were covered in great, ancient forests and, further high up, they became white with snow. There really was no other place in the world quite like the Northlands. Why had he been away for so long…?

He wasn't even entirely sure of the name of the kingdom he had entered, and he was even more uncertain about what royal family ruled over that region: the political geography of the Northlands changed frequently. When he had left, that valley hadn't been an independent kingdom but a military stronghold, a barrier between North and South, so he had already come across his first surprise.

Kesteven's influence over the North was due to the fact that the reign of the Huxley family had an unbroken history that went back several centuries. No other royal family had been able to cling on to power for such a long period, especially not without interruptions.

Some said that the Huxley bloodline was divine, or at the very least blessed by the gods. Generation after generation, the males of the family had only grown bigger, stronger and more astoundingly virile, and since strength and fertility were the virtues upon which the whole Northerner culture and society were founded, the kingdom of the Huxleys had constantly expanded and flourished. The kingdom of the Huxley family was not yet the absolute largest in terms of surface, but it was by the far the greatest in terms of population and resources: the males of the glorious bloodline had conquered the richest regions and the largest towns of the north. In the east, in areas that included vast expanses of desert, there were kingdoms with a greater surface, but it was for the most part a whole lot of sunny, dusty nothing, so it was very much a moot point.

The strength of the Huxleys was such that Kesteven had become the unofficial capital of the Northlands as a whole. All other kingdoms, in a way or another, either happily or grudgingly, tended to adhere to the policies shaped by the ruling king of Kesteven. Many had tried to take the Huxleys down, but every attempt had resulted in disaster, and many years had passed since the last time king Seth Huxley had been challenged. Some other bloodlines had realized that being on the Huxleys' good side was a good way to improve their chances of lasting longer, and those alliances had further reinforced Kesteven's voice. No other alliance was more sincere, more ancient and more unbreakable than the one with the Archer bloodline, which ruled from over two centuries over the region of Glacial, to the east of Kesteven. Unsurprisingly, the strong kings, and occasionally queens, of the two families had realized early on that an alliance would reinforce each other's power and security.

Most other kings tended to have much shorter reigns, and few bloodlines managed to preserve their power for long periods. In the Northlands, after all, the value of a person, of a life in general, depended on that person's physical power, prowess in fighting and sheer fertility. The rule was particularly true for kings, who were only legitimated in their rulings by their physical might. In any moment, the king could be challenged to a duel, defeated and replaced. The strong ruled, the weak obeyed. In the Northlands, tournaments were frequent and held in high regard, but the true measure of the power of a young king was always given by the vastness of his kingdom and the success of his campaigns of conquest. Whenever a new king ascended to the throne, neighbors could expect to be challenged as the new lord sought to secure more land to rule and, more importantly, more females to claim as his own.

In the Northlands, honor and personal valor were the basis of all things, and that was exactly the reason why he felt more at home here. The border between North and South was far more than just a physical frontier: it was actually a separation between cultures and contrasting visions of the world.

The millenary culture of the Northlands, founded upon honor and strength, was anathema in the eyes of the southerners, who had, for the most part, abolished kings and adopted “democratic governments" and “equal rights for all". The South prided itself on being an evolved, progressive land where the rule of law was prevalent and where everyone was given a fair chance, even if they weren't blessed with the best of genetics at birth.

He had spent the best part of 13 years down in the south, however, and he had learned that the reality was very different. “Civilization" and “rule of law" were all too often just a façade that legitimized and enabled a more sophisticate and ruthless mechanism of prevarication. The “democratic" south was really more of an oligarchy in which the real power was in the hands of a limited number of players who influenced, with various degrees of overtness, the fate of entire countries. Money, weapons, corruption and politics were the levers of power in the south, and they led to greater bloodshed than the veneration of the tigers for raw strength, for the power that came from the genetics and from harsh, constant training of the body and of the mind. The North was simpler, more “natural". Or, to say it with the word the southerners liked to use, “primitive".

He was glad to be back. The culture of the south was poisonous. In many ways, it disgusted him. If the north was primitive and barbaric, he was all too glad and proud to be one of the barbarians. He greatly preferred to solve contrasts with an honorable duel, face to face, than deal with the underhanded tactics, the corruption, the assassination attempts and all the other sneaky methods he had seen in the south.

The constant recourse to raw strength and to combat to settle disputes and craft the destiny of kingdoms was the reason why the rest of the world saw the kingdoms of the North as nothing but tribes of unevolved brutes, but among the tigers it was just a fact of life, as natural as breathing. It was perhaps a crude mechanism, but it worked. Normally, the kings dueled between themselves, so the conquest did not imply a majorly destructive war, with all its widespread devastation and horrendous consequences. The kings dueled, and the population, most of the time, could just sit it out and watch. Most of the time, problems were solved that way, and anyone eager to have a go at leadership could step forwards and issue his own challenge at any moment. Betrayal and conspiracies were almost unheard off, and the “wars" between the tiger kingdoms were frequently solved by a small number of individual clashes. There were, of course, notable exceptions. Bloody wars of invasion had happened repeatedly during the long history of the Northlands, but those kings who invaded another country by forming up a big army were frowned upon. Depending on an army was a clear sign of weakness, if not of cowardice. The kings guilty of doing it were taunted and derided, obviously, and If they were defeated, they were punished with particular ferocity. But if they won and then managed to keep their army strong and loyal, they had a chance to rule all the same. Of course, that kind of king usually enjoyed a very short reign before being finally defeated, frequently by their own generals who, by virtue of greater personal strength, forced them into duels while the rest of the army sat it out. Several ancient bloodlines had ended in that way, replaced by new royal families sired by victorious generals.

There were always plenty of citizens willing to form up an army around their kings, since being a warrior meant being rich, respected and quite simply above the other members of society. As barbarian and primitive as it sounded, it was a social organization that had always worked well for the tigers. In the centuries, it had strengthened their genetics and made them stronger and stronger because, in the long run, the power always ended in the hands of those strong and mature enough to secure it. The "civilized" countries always liked to say that a nation should be led by people with a clear strategy for the well being of the people. Brains and not muscles, was their reasoning.

The experience of the tigers, however, led them to firmly believe that a good warrior very rarely lacks brains. The greatest kings in the history of the Northlands had been powerful conquerors but also, with almost no exception, builders and protectors and incorruptible guardians of justice. The southerners saw that as nothing but tyranny, but the reality was different: those who had actually dared moving up north had been surprised by how orderly and fair life could be in the tiger kingdoms. Strong kings knew how to keep the order and, for all their defects, they tended to take their role of patriarchs very seriously. In order to keep their thrones, the kings of the Northlands had to constantly improve themselves. There was no alternative. How many politicians in the rest of the world needed to become corrupt; to secure money from all sorts of sources; to make compromises; to buy the support of this or that group of rich people...? How much injustice and crime did that process generate? In the north, money could not secure a position of power. Only true power mattered. It eased things a lot. It kept the leaders far more honest.

War was a constant in the culture of the tigers, but the rules of honor had ensured that, over the centuries, far fewer tigers had died in war than people of all sorts of species in the wars fought elsewhere in the world. It was the happy paradox of the Northlands… something that Southerners flatly refused to acknowledge, standing by their prejudices.

He understood, however, the reasons that had led the southerners to hate and despise the people of the north. In the past, and for thousands of years, they had been given good reasons to build up resentment.

The North was the realm of the tigers, of the mightiest predators to live on dry land. In pre-historical times, the present day southerners were literally the tigers' food. In the early eras of history, the tigers had become masters of war and conquerors. The tiger lords of the North had repeatedly raided, looted, devastated and enslaved the “prey species", which had sought refuge in the southern regions.

The tiger's monstrous physical strength, their rapid growth and physical maturation made them a deadly threat to the survival of the other species, which had thus used, quite literally, technology to counter muscles. Eventually, the tide had partially turned: it had taken a couple of millennia, but the “preys" had come up with most of the technologies that made up the modern world, beginning with weaponry. The tigers were too proud and arrogant to research advanced weaponry: swords and spears and bare hands were all they needed. And so they had had little incentive to modernize. The “preys", on the other hand, had had every reason to research, trial, develop and field firearms and other systems. Eventually, heavy artillery and armoured vehicles had given the southerners the ability to beat back any raiding horde of tigers… and in several occasions the southerners had actually returned the favor and driven deep into the Northlands, trying to crush the “barbarians" once and for all. They had never succeeded, but their attempts had caused enough damage to eventually bring forth a lasting, uneasy peace. The last few centuries had seen the Northlands and the south of the world locked in a perennial state of cold war.

The last century had seen the tigers fighting mostly against each other, and defending themselves from the attacks coming from the south. For the first time ever, the Northlands were mostly on the defensive. And as the south fielded more and more advanced war machines and threatened to push north to seek revenge for the past, the tiger kingdoms had been forced to start their own modernization process. For the first time in history, large standing and vastly mechanized armies had become a normal feature of life in the Northlands. And inexorably, technology had brought some changes and some new dangers. The new standing armies were mainly meant to defend against external enemies, but some generals and kings had naturally been tempted to exploit the new weapons to overturn the old, natural balances of power and make the old laws ineffective. Their attempts had always ultimately ended badly, however: the concept of honor was still so ingrained in the minds of the tigers that kings trying to expand their reigns by virtue of rifles and tanks often struggled to win any favor among their people, leading to tanks without crews and rifles without soldiers.

The Northlands had undergone an accelerated, compressed process of modernization which had touched not just the armies, the weapons and the ways of waging war, but also the society and customs. The true protagonist of the new era was Seth Huxley, the ruling king of Kesteven and, de facto, a sort of emperor of the Northlands, that for more than four decades had driven a vast program of reforms, dragging all other kingdoms along, either by force or through diplomacy.

It really wasn't easy to ignore Seth's directions, because in his youth he had been a warrior and a conqueror of exceptional fame and strength. Before settling fully into the complex job of nation-builder and guardian of order, Seth had been the apex predator, the best warrior of the Northlands, the conqueror that had other kings trembling in fear as he toppled throne after throne after throne. His spectacular strength had terminated several ancient bloodlines and greatly expanded the borders of Kesteven as passed over by Seth's father. Even now, despite his age, he remained a warrior that no one was eager to challenge.

His strength had gained him fearful respect, but genuine political clout across the whole of the Northlands had been secured by the immortal glory with which he had covered himself in numerous key battles against southerner armies that had launched invasions of the Northlands. Seth had beaten back numerous invasions and had led the tigers against a paramilitary terroristic organization of southerners that called themselves the “New World Order Army". Even more importantly, Seth had formed and led to victory an alliance of tiger kings in a major, long and bloody war against a group of southerner states that had launched a literal crusade against the kingdoms of the North.

Seth had always been a wise man, and it was during that terrible war that he realized that the relationship between tigers and "prey" had to change and normalize. On one hand, he had worked tirelessly to prepare his kingdom and his army for possible new assaults from the south. On the other, he had simultaneously worked for peace within the borders of Kesteven, enacting laws that for the very first time gave full citizen rights to the "lesser species". Working with his greatest ally, the king of the neighboring kingdom of Glacial, he had tried hard to give a new social organization to the whole of the Northlands, encouraging modernization and moderation and a new era of diplomatic engagement with the south. His efforts had been rewarded by significant success, even though they had also led to a number of conflicts, predictable and expected, against other noble bloodlines which had no intention at all of renouncing to the benefits that came from slave labor and complete domination over entire “lesser" races. Seth had needed all of his guile as well as all of his strength to rally the whole of Kesteven behind him, and then to win other allies abroad. At first, many tigers within his own army had bitterly opposed his plans, as was to be expected, but he had persevered. Within a few years, the new society was a reality in Kesteven and the prey species within the kingdom had become precious allies, leading to the establishment of the first few army units open to non-tigers, and to a generally stronger, more closely-knit country. It wasn't a quick and easy affair, and several kingdoms continued to intermittently move war against Kesteven for many years, but it was nonetheless an historical triumph.

He knew that story all too well. He had played an important part in it. Seth Huxley was his father.

Killer Huxley sighed, shaking his head slowly. He was the prince of Kesteven, the oldest of Seth's “royal" children. The kings of the Northlands had literally thousands of “wives" and concubines, and even greater number of sons and daughters. A big part of being king, after all, was passing on the very best genetics to give birth to even stronger generations of warriors. “Royal" children were the ones the king had with the Queen, who was unique. The best female in the kingdom, the special pick, the wife above all other wives.

Killer was the first son of Seth and Isis, king and queen of Kesteven, and so he was the crown prince. Of course, birthright alone had next to no value in the Northlands: had Killer been a scrawny runt, his younger brothers or stepbrothers or even complete foreigners would have quickly challenged him, defeated him and taken his place. The thought made him smirk slightly to himself as he gazed down at his massive arm, flexing ever so slightly and causing his enormous muscles to tense and bulge with terrifying power. Killer Huxley was definitely not scrawny. He was actually a giant, even for the standards of tigers, used to loom over all other species. For all he knew, and for what the ancient chronicles had to say, he was the biggest of all the sons of the Northlands. He had been taller and stronger than most adults already when he was just 7 years old. At that age he had, single and bare handedly, turned the fate of a great battle on its head, beating back an invasion force which had launched a surprise assault on the arctic portion of his father's kingdom. At the same age he sired his first sons and daughters… filling the wombs of two maids assigned to his service and who had been selected specifically because they were sterile. Somehow, he had made a mockery of their sterility, filling them with 7 children in total. Two extraordinary feats that had led a lot more people across the Northlands into believing and proclaiming that the Huxleys were not mortals like the others. In the following years he had continued to grow larger, stronger and more virile still, eclipsing even his illustrious father.

Now, even though he was soon going be 30 years old, he was still growing, even though he was already more than thirty feet tall, a behemoth who made even the largest tigers look like children. Doctors and genetic specialists explained those extraordinary proportions with some sort of malfunction of his growth inhibition genes, a condition which was in some measure typical of ligers, hybrids of lion and tiger, like he was. Everyone else either thought the gods had blessed him, or even that he was a god himself. After all, the day he had been born had seen an unexplained solar eclipse and a terrifying thunderstorm unlike anything that had ever been observed before, and no matter how much the Northlands had modernized and evolved, those signs still caused awe. Besides, in theory he shouldn't have been a liger at all: while liger genetics ran in the Huxley family, his father and mother were both tigers. And again, no earlier case of growth inhibition gene failure had ever resulted in growth quite like his own: he didn't just get larger and heavier, he continued to get stronger. He was a hulking, glorious sculpture of muscles, chiseled by diamonds, incredibly toned, impossibly powerful. No, he was something else entirely. Nobody dared to imply that his condition was a defect. They called it a blessing of the gods.

Killer didn't really care what term they used. He was just enamored of his strength, and grateful for it, and ever eager for more. As a prince, he had been mercilessly trained to achieve excellence, from very, very early on in his life. He had embraced that almost cruel regime of training and had never ceased pushing himself to greater and greater heights. When his mentor said it was enough, he pushed further. When his training lessons ended, he trained on his own. He had always wanted to be the strongest.

Killer had a stunning ivory, black-striped coat, and a great, rebellious mane added even more to his massive figure, making him look even taller and enhancing his threatening, masculine looks. His features were hard but handsome, and his eyes glowed an incredible, cold sapphire color that was as beautiful as it was intimidating. When he smiled, he could come across as incredibly charming, especially since he had been trained as a prince in all things, including in manners. He knew how to be kind, and chivalrous, and he had never had any trouble seducing girls and getting them to enter his bed. But when he looked down at something with rage, or with murderous intent, those cold eyes looked at once like they would freeze and incinerate his target. Many potential rivals had been crushed into submission just with a flat look from those icy sapphire eyes, and what hadn't been achieved by his glare had been easily accomplished by his tremendous physical might. His body was quite simply spectacular, bulging with huge, hard muscle, chiseled with glorious perfection, toned to the hardness of steel. Whatever incredible genetic mix had given birth to him had been further refined by years of relentless training and actual fighting on the battlefield, and the result was astounding. He was fully aware of it, and somewhat arrogant about it. Not in a flamboyant, annoying way, but he certainly liked to know the world watched and envied him. He rarely bothered with wearing shirts, so that his broad, masculine chest bulged in full display, full of power, and his mighty abs stunned whoever looked up at him. His arms were incredible, his huge biceps bulging without needing to flex, as large veins protruded over the herculean, formidable musculature. Thick, luscious, curly hair went down the middle of his chest in a trail that connected his mane to his navel, and then went further down in a happy highway leading down to where his pants bulged obscenely. And all those who looked up at him eventually gulped nervously as they followed that trail and discovered the glorious display of that enormous bulge snaking its way down one thigh of the liger's weary black jeans. It was humongous and unmistakable in its nature, and the head of his cock could easily be distinguished at the end of that great bulge… far, far down below his knee. It bulged gloriously, and it stretched the fabric almost viciously, armed as it was with a large, intimidating, horse-like flare, lined with fat, massive, downward-curved barbs. His virility was, if at all possible, even more prodigious and intimidating than his musculature and height.

His long tail ended in a rebellious tuft of thick bangs of black fur, looking almost like it was made of flames. There was a thick bone spike hidden in the middle of that hair, and further deadly spikes of bone pushed out of his shoulders and joints, like natural weapons to enhance his already tremendous destructive potential. It was another unique trait that no one had been able to rationally explain, and it all added to his aura of otherworldliness. One hypothesis was that his genetics had somehow manifested draconic elements, re-emerging from the sands of time: one of Killer's ancestors had chosen one of the last dragonesses as queen, so some peculiar draconic characteristics ran in the family's blood.

People would have said he was built like a tank, had he not been a living tank-destroyer on the battlefield ever since he was 7 years old. It was really quite reductive to compare him to a tank, when he could punch the proud southerners' war chariots into unrecognizable wreckage with his bare hands, or smash through the armour and pluck out the crew members like tuna from a tin can. When fighting, he favored simple and brutal approaches: most of the time, he literally punched things hard in the face until they stopped moving, even if said things were Main Battle Tanks. His bare fists could strike as hard as meteors, but when he needed something more his first pick was swords: even now he wore a heavy belt of leather and steel that supported two sheathed Type 0 long swords, one on each flank. They were traditional broadswords, standard issue to the warriors of the army of Kesteven. His only happened to have been forged to much greater proportions, to suit his hulking, towering form. He also carried a third, much larger and heavier sword to be used when he really wanted to crush and chop its targets into small pieces. It was a massive cleaver-sword, with an exceptionally thick and tough blade that, given its weight, doubled up as a warhammer. He carried it in another elaborate sheath of leather and silvery metal, strapped horizontally across the base of his back, just above his tail. Most warriors would have struggled to even heft the giant cleaver sword from the floor, but Killer handled it like it was a small knife, and could yield a weapon in each hand not just with ease, but with deadly effect. He was excellently trained in the art of the swords, and superbly experienced after so many years spent fighting wars.

He was equally well versed in the use of firearms, and his strength and sizes again meant that he could employ weaponry that other tigers couldn't even lift off the ground, never mind bear the recoil of. He used custom-made assault rifles that resembled tank cannons, or colossal machine guns and cannons that would normally only ride around the battlefield on top of heavy vehicles. That, however, made things “too easy", and he refrained from using such weaponry unless it was truly necessary. The thrill of the fight, after all, was something he lived for; something that gave him a pleasure second only to the carnal delights of sex. He normally did his best to ensure his fights lasted, and that they were fought hand to hand, because that was were true individual valor shone the brightest. As a consequence, he was carrying no firearms on himself, even though one of his custom-made monster-rifles rested in a leather holster strapped to the flank of his bike.

He incarnated everything the people of the Northlands admired, respected and venerated. And in spite of it, he was still unsure about whether he had any right to return north of the border. Smelling home in the cool breeze was a blessing and a curse at the same time, and that was purely his fault. Shame was a great part of the reason why he had been away for the best part of seven years, and even now he felt uneasy while entering the land of his fathers. In seven years he had stained his soul and his honor in ways that made him ashamed of himself… especially since he had enjoyed himself so much that he knew, without a doubt, that he'd like to do everything all over again. He knew just as well, however, that what he had done was wrong, often monstrous, and that his father was horrified of it all.

Killer was not afraid of any attempt to punish him… he could fight his way out of the most desperate of situations. He was, however, very afraid of his father's disapproval. The fact that even Seth wasn't strong enough to rain punishment down on him didn't made his contempt any less painful for the young prince. Killer respected his father in a way that was just short of veneration, and in his youth he had dreamed of nothing other than following his father's steps, becoming a hero and also a respected, wise, honorable king whose voice would drive real change in the world. It pained Killer to hear, again and again, that he was only good for destroying, while his father was a builder. Much as destructive force was admired and revered in the Northlands, Killer hoped to be remembered, one day, for building something good and long-lasting… but when he looked back, he had to admit that he had taken all the wrong turns and done all he could to prove the naysayers right and to disappoint and embarrass his illustrious father.

Unlike Seth, Killer was bad at controlling his base instincts, his hungers, and his cravings. He had succumbed to vices early on… and while the concept of “vice" in the Northlands was very different from that of the rest of the world, since most excesses were actually considered virtue, he had definitely exceeded all limits of what was acceptable.

Things had started to go wrong when he was 14. His father's diplomacy had painstakingly matured a deal with the main southern superpower, the Federation of Ire, for an exchange programme that he hoped would promote better reciprocal understanding and thus an improvement in relations between North and South. Killer had been sent in the capital of Ire to be instructed and trained in the military boarding school and then in the officer academy that formed the leaders of the Irenic army.

He had tried to fit into the southern world. He really had. But the hostility and speciesism with which he was welcomed and the sheer temptation that came from being so incredibly stronger than the “bugs" around him, had eventually led him to behave in ways that had seriously ruined the diplomatic aims of the exchange. He had ended up humiliating the southerners, using sports and sex to show them just how weak they truly were. He had terrified the southerners by starting a porn career that became a world sensation in both good and bad ways. He was so overwhelming that many southerners had truly believed that he was going to breed their species out of existence. He had admittedly done nothing to soothe their fears, but had actually redoubled his efforts to make that nightmarish fantasy even more realistic… and he had expanded well beyond the realm of porn. When he had run out of actresses, he had started ruining real families.

He had refused to admit that what he considered a game was actually generating real hate, even when the assaults against him started to include evident assassination attempts. He had only “played" harder in response, until one day things had gotten truly out of control. A terroristic attack involving a bomb and dozens of his “groupies", including one southern woman he truly, truly cared deeply about, had filled him with disgust, sorrow and fury. The same day, in the same moment, the luxurious estate in which he lived together with many wives and concubines and “groupies" was assaulted by a commando of irenic Special Forces that killed, imprisoned and kidnapped. His women and a multitude of his children were killed, while at least two of his daughters were kidnapped. He had never seen his little girls since, despite rampaging all over Ire, assaulting military bases in the hope of finding them.

That day had changed everything. Whatever bit of respect he had had for the southerners' way of life up to that point was shattered, and what had started as a game became a real assault on their species. From then onwards, Killer had destroyed, killed, rampaged and brutalized the towns of Ire. Above all he had ruined and bred southern women: did they fear he could truly breed their species to extinction? Well, if that was what got them pissing their pants, he was more than ready to give them more reasons to fear him. In the south he had killed, murdered, stolen, destroyed without reason or restraint.

He had been given a chance to put an end to that period of his life when the southerners formed a military coalition around the core provided by that old, undefeated enemy that was the New World Order Army. That unholy, massive alliance had mobilized immense numbers of soldiers and machines, all of them led by a wolf warrior known as “Dark" and equally famous for his prowess in fighting and for his remarkable talent for tactics. Dark had formed up his immense armada, thirsty for vengeance, and had driven northwards on a new crusade against the tiger kingdoms. Killer had raced back home to lead the army of his father into battle and avoid the disaster that he was in no small measure responsible for. The NWOA had existed and had been dangerous already decades before Killer was born, but his time in the south, instead of weakening the terrorist organization, had led to many more volunteers joining its ranks.

His diplomatic mission had been a failure, that much was undeniable. He made up for that disaster by leading the forces of Kesteven, supported by warriors coming from other kingdoms, to complete, crushing victory over the NWOA near the village of Wycherley, in the south of his homeland. He had killed Dark in duel and annihilated his army, pursuing the few survivors deep into Ire and giving a demonstration of the Northlands' strength that, according even to the most pessimistic estimates, bought them at least a full decade of peace. Although Ire and the other countries had never formally joined the war, it was all too clear that they had poured manpower, equipment and funding into Dark's armada, and the utter destruction of that colossal force had thrown the south almost into complete disarray. The bloody spectacle had been tremendous enough to brutally snuff out any immediate dream of revenge in the southerners. Killer left them weak, bloodied and terrified of what they had witnessed, to such a degree that years of reconstruction and recovery would have been needed before any other offensive could even be dreamed of.

At the end of the war, Killer was a hero to the eyes of most Northlanders. He had, after all, triumphed over the southerners in a multitude of ways: his formidable exploits of virility had filled the South with new ligers; his equally extraordinary exploits on the battlefield had nearly driven the South on its knees.

Killer, and many other warriors and kings, would have gladly continued the campaign to deliver a real killing blow, but once again Seth Huxley insisted to give peace a chance, and Killer bowed his head and guided the victorious army back home. He had already failed his father once, and helped set that devastating war into motion; he had no intention of disappointing him further.

“Yet I did, didn't I…?" Killer muttered under his breath, making a grimace as he looked down at one of the small but roaring cascades. Just like that mountain stream, Killer could not stay placid for long before becoming restless. With the south cowering and licking its wounds and with the Northlands pacified and in awe both of his strength and of that of the modern, powerful army he had organized and rehearsed into perfection, Killer was faced by the boredom of peacetime. Despite his sincere and endless respect and admiration for his father, he had inexorably ended up contrasting with the king more and more frequently.

It was in their DNA and culture, after all… two Alphas could never truly get along while sharing the same territory. By definition, there can only be one Alpha. One King, one Master.

The life of the kings of the tigers was the most luxurious existence possible, one of complete and unlimited power over the whole kingdom, over the whole “pride" living within its borders. The king had first dibs on everything and everyone, and in particular on all the females, many of whom were reserved to the king alone, and to no one else. The “Forbidden Females" were the best women of the kingdom: the most fertile, the most beautiful, the most remarkable, the ones that the king greedily reserved for himself. That was the reason why staying king was often more difficult than becoming one: an infinite number of other warriors craved that kind of power and delight and the challenges were frequent. Kings had to fight constantly to preserve their lives and their thrones: the reward was immense, but equally great were the dangers. Defeat most often meant death, but even if a fallen king survived, the fall from grace was painful. They could reinvent themselves as warriors serving under the new king, or they could move into exile, perhaps looking for another, weaker king to challenge. That was why the kingdoms of the Northlands suffered frequent and constant changes to their borders and to their ruling bloodlines. It was not uncommon at all for a young prince to challenge his own father and kill him to take his place. Nobody wanted to stay at the bottom of the pyramid, after all, since the weaker males, those who languished in the bottom class, could often end up completely alone, forced to watch on from a distance as the warriors kept great harems for themselves. The stronger a warrior was, the more females he was allowed to keep for himself, as slaves, concubines or wives. But even those women were reserved first of all to the king, who could in any moment reclaim them. The females, even when they were formally “slaves", were actually very powerful members of the tigers' society, which effectively revolved entirely around them. They were the judges of the ultimate worth of the males of the kingdom, and they decided the fate of warrior and kings by setting up the battles when a new and stronger male caught their eye and showed to be worth of climbing the pyramid of power. They could force a king into accepting duels, and they could encourage kings of nearby regions to invade if they were unsatisfied with their current ruler. The queens of the North were no less important than the kings, even if at first sight it could be hard to tell... and in any case, the tigresses were often excellent warriors themselves. They had just as much care of their bodies and counted on their strengths just as much as the males did, after all. If they decided to side with a new aspirant king, they almost always ended up tipping the balance their way.

In such a society, it was obvious that Killer and Seth would end up in contrast. Killer's insatiable hungers were not compatible with the concept of Forbidden Females and he had constantly invaded his father's harem. It was an open secret that the vast majority of pregnancies were due to Killer's seed, and not Seth's. In the south and during the war, Killer had been fully and utterly in charge and the return of peace in Kesteven was not a good enough reason for him to let someone else have first dibs. Not even if that someone was his father. The truth of the matter was that Killer was far, far stronger than even his father and he had been already before leaving for the south, when he was just 14 years old. At the end of the war, in his twenties and at the apex of his power, victorious and insatiable, Killer was a godlike beast that eclipsed his father in an almost frightening way, and no amount of affection and respect could change that fact. The difference was so colossal that even the glorious Seth had to feign blindness and pretend not to be annoyed by the fact all of his females were pregnant and spoiled by his son's massive sizes and strength.

In the tradition of the Northlands, that was usually the moment in which the old king was challenged, defeated and replaced by the young and vigorous prince, but Killer had refused to play according to the ancient customs. Despite all, he had no intention of turning against his father: he had grown up in Seth's legend, listening to the stories of his conquests and admiring him for the respect he commanded and for how he managed to drive change across the whole of the Northlands. He couldn't possibly contemplate the idea of using violence to drive him off the throne, no more than Seth was willing to contemplate the possibility of abdicating without being forced to.

For a while, Killer had tried his best to adapt to the combined constraints posed by peacetime and by the fact that he could not sit in the throne, but it hadn't worked out. Soon enough, the restless prince had realized that he needed the freedom to satiate his hungers and ambitions in a way or another, and he had started to consider his options: either conquering a kingdom of his own in the Northlands, or heading back south, where his physical supremacy made him a god more than “just" a king. In the northlands his strength and virility were the subject of ballads and myth, and many thought he was a god who had decided to walk amongst the mortals, but in the south he came across as a walking apocalypse, a force that no one seemed able to restrain in any way. In the end, Killer had decided to head back south of the border. He told himself it was because he didn't want to cause trouble for his father by starting to topple thrones across the Northlands. Seth's diplomacy was working in no small part because the king had stopped expanding his domains, and a new campaign of conquest launched by a Huxley would have inexorably complicated things and caused suspect, fear and resentment. In truth, though, Killer's decision was probably due to how horrendously pleasant and arousing it was to be called a god, to be worshipped and feared and treated as one. In the south he was an unstoppable titan who yielded a power even more absolute and unlimited than that of the kings of the north. The armies of the south, already depleted after pouring so much of their resources into Dark's armada, were little more than speedbumps and toys, and behind those ineffective defences there were entire countries to devastate, enslave, abuse and conquer.

In Ire he had resumed from where he had left when Dark's war had forced him to rush back home. Of course, in his absence his vast fortunes and his many estates had been confiscated, but that was no problem at all: he had rapidly taken back everything, since no police force had a prayer where the army itself had miserably failed. Things had gone downhill fast, since he had no intention of pulling back his punches, unlike what he had done during his first few years in the South. His impact over the south, as a result, had been utterly devastating.

At first he had acted like a northern king in the south. He didn't intend to be a criminal – he utterly despised them – but only intended to take full advantage of his formidable physical strength to triumph in sports, to completely dominate the porn industry and to get all the ladies he wanted. He also continued to assault military bases and research labs, still looking for his kidnapped, lost little girls… but that too, to his eyes and his culture, did not count as crime. He had every right to seek revenge and search his daughters to rescue them. For him it was only normal: he was strong and thus meant to rule. Obviously, the southerners refused to share that vision of the world and immediately put him at the very top of the list of the most wanted criminals alive. The fact he didn't think he was a criminal at all meant, of course, nothing, and even the fact that he acted like a vigilante of sort, swiftly administering justice against criminals whenever he went, only made the governments of the south all the more hostile.

That hostility had fed Killer's rage until he had decided that, if he could only be seen as a criminal, there was no reason to pretend he was something else and hold back.

For the last seven years, Killer had unleashed his fury and his hungers without any restraint. Whenever he felt like he was being too savage, the memory of his “groupies" slaughtered by a bomb and the images, burned indelibly in his mind, of his murdered sons and concubines in the burning estate, ensured that all mercy was quickly forgotten. For seven years he had stolen, enslaved, raped, slaughtered, massacred, devastated, and destroyed both property and people. He had traveled from town to town, guided only by his appetites, taking what he wanted, when he wanted, how he wanted.

In many occasions he had stopped to think about what he had become, and what he was making of his life. For all the hedonistic pleasure in it, for all the power he yielded, for all the riches he possessed, he couldn't possibly be proud of himself. His life did not resemble at all the dreams of his youth, and it fled in the face of everything he had been taught. He was a monster. Powerful and invincible, but without real glory and with his honor stained forever by the fact he had preyed so much on the weak and on the innocents. He had left behind an apocalyptic scenario of destruction and bloodshed and literally erased some countries off the map, leaving even the mighty and vast Ire reeling and wheezing, terrified and in ruins… but he felt like no conqueror. He felt more like a criminal, a villain… and while there was quite some pleasure attached to being the great evil force, the awareness filled him with remorse and with distaste for himself.

Again and again he had tried to stop and change course, but it had never worked out. Sooner rather than later, he had given in to temptation and reverted to the old crimes and sins. He had well and truly lost his direction, and allowed his life to be ruled by his basic instincts and by his hungers: whenever he wanted something, he used his brutal, unstoppable strength to take it. He had turned entire towns into “kingdoms" that he had used and abused until they had nothing else to give. Whenever he felt like taking a girl that caught his eye, he had. Those who didn't accept willingly, he had raped without hesitation… and he was enormous, and strong, and insatiable, and he did not like holding back. He liked to bury his massive cock all the way to the hilt… which meant that many of his victims and toys did not survive. He had ripped apart countless women, and brutally destroyed countless pregnancies. The southerners were terrified that he could breed them all out of existence, and in the last seven years he had grown to truly love that idea, and the terror it caused. He had gone pretty damn close to turning that fantasy into reality, and the thought, even now, was enough to make him at once aroused and ashamed.

Now, for the hundredth time, he was looking for a fresh start. Was it going to go any differently than all his earlier tries…? He honestly had no clue. He wasn't even sure why, for the first time in seven years, he had decided to drive back into the Northlands. Perhaps in the hope that, if he failed to restrain himself, someone else would…? The armies of the Northlands were much more dangerous than those of the Southlands. The warriors of the north were no weaklings… but they were not on par with him, either. There were good reasons why so many believed that he had divine blood in his veins, after all. Yeah, he needed to play it a bit safer in the Northlands, but if he really wanted, he knew he could cause nearly as much devastation as in the south.

What was truly different here was the fact that the Northlands were home. And you don't turn your own home in a wasteland, right…? He had lost all respect for the southerners when they had stolen away two of his daughters and killed so many of his girls with a cowardly explosive trap. If the southerners had so little respect for their own females, for their daughters and wives and sisters and mothers, why should he have any? The southerners had preferred to rip those women apart rather than see them proudly siding with him, and that had made all too clear what the southerner “civilization" was really like. It had been easy to lash out against them. But turning against northerners was different: it was much more complex. It felt truly wrong, in a way that, for years now, had not applied to the southerners.

There was no doubt on the fact that it was time to change his ways and put order in his life, but that still didn't mean it was going to work out. The last wake-up call, however, had been truly painful. His father, of all people, had sent a team of warriors against him. And not just any warrior, but some of the best: members of the Predators, the elite special force that Killer himself had created during the war against Dark and the NWOA.

That was a clear proof of just how much he had disappointed, horrified and embarrassed his family: he had turned into a real problem, one that needed to be stopped with whatever mean necessary. It hadn't been exactly surprising: in the deep, Killer had known for a long time that the day would, inexorably, arrive. His rampage in the south had definitively killed off the chances of bringing about a new age of peace between North and South, and his crimes had caused such fear, even across the Northlands, that several kingdoms had started to again see Kesteven and the Huxleys as a threat to their survival. Even without taking away his throne, Killer was inexorably shattering his father's power over the North.

Being ambushed by a large team of Predators did not surprise him, but shocked him nonetheless. He knew every last one of those warriors. He had trained with them and had then commanded them into battle. He had called them friends. Having to fight against them, of all people, had been a real torment.

He had managed to beat them back. They had a numerical advantage and had chosen the time and place of the battle, but that still hadn't been enough to bring him down. Killer was, after all, a true war machine: he was far taller and stronger than any one of them, towering sometimes literally twice as tall as his other tigers. All northerners were giants by the standards of the rest of the world, but even those giants saw Killer as something more, something godlike. There was no record suggesting that any of the great kings of the past had ever been anywhere near 30 feet tall, and certainly there was no one else that big in the present, either. Everything in his body was built and trained to be deadly in a fight. If anything, being outnumbered only made him even more eager, even more dangerous. It sharpened his senses, it put all his instincts on high alert, and it filled him with bloodlust. He lived for the thrill of the fight, and he was at home on the battlefield, so their number meant nothing. In his battle rage, he had been on the point of killing them all, but thankfully some part of his mind had managed to stay cool enough to keep him from committing such a crime. They had good reasons to come for him. His father had good reasons to send them. And Killer knew it. He had allowed them to break contact and retreat, and had told them to return to Kesteven and warn his father that, if he truly wanted him dead, he had to send many, many more warriors.

Probably his father had never actually wanted him dead, preferring him to be dragged back to Kesteven in a cage, but that was a secondary consideration. His father would undoubtedly try again to put an end to his rampaging, and he would eventually step forwards in person if necessary.

Killer didn't want to fight against his father, or more friends, more stepbrothers, or even his younger brothers, but he knew that it was inexorably going to happen if he gave Seth any more reasons to stop him. There could be no doubt that his father already knew that he was moving northwards, and Killer wasn't sure of how he would react. Maybe Seth was already waiting for him, thinking that the time for their duel and for Killer's ascension to the throne had finally come.

He had no doubt that there were Predators hidden somewhere in the forest near the road, shadowing him and keeping him in their sights. But he also knew that they would not attack him again unless he gave them a good reason. Seth was no coward and was not going to try and have him assassinated if Killer decided to drive all the way back home to challenge him. No, in that case Seth was only going to prepare for their one on one, and wait patiently for him to arrive. Only if Killer extended his criminal, reckless rampage to the Northlands, then he could expected to be assaulted again, and this time by a much larger and more determined force. For now they would merely observe and report his moves… and he was going to allow it. He knew how the Predators worked, and how good they were and he had no doubt that running into the forest to find them would have been nothing other than a complete waste of time.

What was he going to do…? He sincerely did not know. Soon after the battle against the Predators he had taken off on his motorbike and had started traveling. Only hours later he had truly realized that he was moving on a northwards route. His instincts were in the driving seat.

Killer threw a last look over his shoulder, down the desert road and then over the luscious forest nearby, smirking a little to himself at the thought that the Predators – his Predators, as he had founded the unit himself and knew almost every last one of them – were spying on him. He playfully taunted them by waving a hand in the direction of the forest, and then turned his enormous motorbike on and reared it up as he launched back on the road, driving northwards. Always northwards.

The black bike shot like a missile along the narrow curves of the road that climbed, in lazy zigzags, up the steep flank of a mountain, and when he finally reached the top, driving along the crest, he was given a panoramic view of the valleys on the other side of the mountain range. In the clear, brisk air of that day of spring, his gaze could reach many miles away in every direction. The mountain ranges diverged, opening space for a vast plateau of green country and small hills covered in woods. The river, called Sidewinder, grew larger and placid and went around in wide curves across the plains and between the small hills, and the road, after descending down from the top of the mountains, mostly followed the river's bank, leading to a small town of which Killer could already see the roofs.

His eyes focused on the village while the wind played with the long bangs of his mane, and he decided it was going to be his first destination. The village had grown much larger than he remembered it being, but was still a relatively small place anyway. It was called Freedall, he remembered. The last time he had passed through, the road was littered with wounded southerners left behind by their fleeing comrades, and by unserviceable or flat-out wasted vehicles. Trucks, tanks, APCs… anything that the enemy hadn't been able to carry had been abandoned.

That valley had seen a lot of wars over many centuries, and the last great battle fought in it had his name written all over it. There was a much larger town further up the valley, Kendrew, with a great fortress dominating it, but that was still many miles away. Already he could make up clearly the lakes, however: 3 of them, which cut the valley in two. Kendrew had grown as well… he was too far away to distinguish the details, but he could clearly see entire new city blocks on the northern shore, which weren't there the last time. The castle was right in the middle of the lakes, on what was pretty much an island, and its profile showed some changes as well.

Killer knew that entire valley very well. The road snaking its way northwards was one of the widest and most comfortable routes that from Northern Ire led up into the heart of the Northlands, eventually all the way up to Kesteven. It was called “the Highway", even though it was nowhere near as large and capacious as one of the actual highways found in the south. The traffic of vehicles in the north was still not intense enough to warrant big, multi-lane motorways and when the southerners had repeatedly proposed to enlarge the road themselves with the excuse of trade, they had been firmly rebuked. The kingdoms of the North still hadn't quite caught up with the big standing armies of the south, in particular with the colossal armed forces of Ire. Technology-wise, there were still big gaps and mechanization was still only partial for most kingdoms. Some were literally still clinging on to the old, traditional and honored way of the sword and spear. That meant that a larger road was not in their interest: a motorway risked becoming only an easy access point for the armoured divisions of the south.

The valley of Kendrew was a narrow but long stretch of nearly flat, fertile land squeezed between two mountain ranges. There were no roads on the massive, rocky, steep-sided mountains, but the valley in the middle was a little paradise not just for those who lived and farmed there, but potentially for the mechanized armies of the south too.

After moving through Freedall, he only needed to follow the road to get all the way to Kendrew.

The little town of Kendrew had been founded centuries earlier on a narrow stretch of “high ground" between a river, the Rapido, on the western side, and a large, incredibly deep lake on the eastern side, undoubtedly the result of some ancient glacier long gone. At its southern end, the water of the lake eventually became a river, the Spey, which rushed southwards down another narrow valley. A multitude of streams cascaded down into the lake and the Rapido from the mountains on either side. Some were permanent, while many other cascades only formed when the snow melted on the mountain tops, or when it rained heavily. The sight from Kendrew, in the middle of that scenery, was spectacular.

As soon as the southerners had started to have the upper hand in terms of military power thanks to their technological progress, Kendrew had turned into a defensive bastion for the Northlands as a whole. A castle had been built to guard the road, and once artillery had reached maturity as a weapon of war, the middle-age fortifications had become obsolete and had been supplemented by a new fortress with low, massive, sloped, triangular bastions topped by the first few cannons the tigers reluctantly rushed into service in their own lines.

Eventually, with the risk of invasion from the south becoming even more acute, the tigers had started a massive digging project north of the fortress, cutting apart the “dam" of high ground that separated the river Rapido from the Major Lake to the east. Opening that passage had changed the geography of the valley, flooding a vast area and turning it into the North Lake. The river Rapido had also been deliberately enlarged on the western side, forming a lake that had been unimaginatively called “Minor", for it was much smaller the one to the east. What had been the rest of the Rapido river, snaking its way southwards, was baptized Sidewinder to distinguish it from the stretch to the north of the new lake. Killer was on the road that followed the Sidewinder's bank and that would lead him all the way to the Minor's shore.

The final result of those titanic projects was that the fortress of Kendrew ended up surrounded by water on 3 sides. Four sides, effectively, but for a narrow isthmus of land between the two lakes. The isthmus was then cut by digging a deep and large canal that could be crossed only by virtue of two drawbridges, with a ravelin between one bridge and the following one.

The road leading northwards was routed over those drawbridges, across the fortress and then over another pair of drawbridges and onto a permanent stone bridge, long and narrow, held up by 18 arches, each spanning 60 meters. Since the bridge had been built where there used to be the high ground that separated the Rapido from the Major Lake, the bridge has always been known as “the dam".

With all that water, and the fortress in the middle turned almost into an island, even the most powerful armoured division of the south could be stopped from making any further progression northwards.

That was the theory, at least. 8 years earlier, that theory had been called into question when the enormous armada put together under the New World Order Army banner by general Dark had launched a two-pronged assault on the north, invading through two different valleys. One had been Kendrew's valley, and Killer had rushed in to guide the defence of the fortress.

Under the cover of a formidable line up of heavy artillery which kept both the fortress and the northern coast under constant bombardment, the forces of general Dark had bypassed the fortress thanks to a number of brigades of Marines, equipped with combat boats and amphibious tanks. The boats were carried on the back of trucks all the way up to Kendrew, and then launched into the lakes to provide covering fire for the amphibious armoured vehicles , much slower and clumsier while in the water, but dangerous once they managed to “beach".

The fortress had been directly invested by the assault of the vehicles, but its sloped bastions were nearly indestructible: when the stone and concrete outer layer was crumbled by the bombardment and explosives, the loose gravel and dirt contained inside their spectacular thickness only resulted in mini-landslides and un-climbable slopes that the assaulters couldn't quite overcome, not even with the support of assault teams landed by helicopter directly on top of the battlements. The tigers had torn those assault teams to shreds.

However, the assault had effectively removed the fortress's artilleries from the wider battle, and the amphibious armoured vehicles of the other brigades had pushed right past “the island" and had beached on the northern shore. Those elite, heavily armed brigades had driven back Killer's small army and had formed a front to defend the engineers while they started building multiple ribbon bridges right across the lakes, to allow even heavier tanks and artilleries to cross and continue their push northwards.

Killer's artillery batteries were too few to open fire against the enemy bridges in build without being wiped out by counter-battery fire, so he only used them in the most desperate of situations, and only ever allowed the firing of a couple of salvos before ordering them to change position. He was also short of sensors to direct his artillery fire on enemy positions. He was nearly blind, having little in the way of unmanned vehicles, aircraft or helicopters. His observers up on the mountains were picked out one after the other when the enemy, technologically superior, intercepted their radio communications, triangulated them and then shelled their positions with brutal displays of firepower.

Despite inflicting terrifying losses to the NWOA, Killer had been slowly but surely forced to pull back several miles up the valley, leaving the fortress surrounded and isolated. He head immediately started to put together a plan to reverse the fates of the battle, however. During the day he was in the very first line, fighting bitterly in the plain to restrain the enemy from breaking through the front. He raced back and forth all along the front, bringing his tremendous, tank- annihilating strength were it was needed the most, but it was during the nights that he planted the seeds of victory. He started using the cover of darkness to haul his few artillery batteries on top of the tallest mountain to the west of the fortress.

There was no road, no street, no passage to drive trucks and howitzers up there, and even helicopters could not get there with a meaningful load, since at high altitude the air is thinner and lift capability rapidly drains out. Dark's forces had many helicopters, but they never even tried to lift anything up there. The snowy mountain tops were too hostile to be of any use, they thought. Helicopters were only used to assault the fortress's ramparts and to shuttle troops quickly across the lakes. Killer's few helicopters were a key asset to beat back armoured assaults and to quickly evacuate the wounded, so they were always high in demand without dreaming of using them to shuttle artillery around.

Yet Killer did what friends and enemy alike thought impossible: he brought heavy artillery up on top of the mountain. Literally. In first person. He hauled the howitzers on his shoulders, two at a time, and climbed the steep side of the mountain, several times every night, to bring up guns and ammunition and lead up the gun crews and a force protection group with shoulder-launched anti-air missiles, to protect the guns from the inevitable reaction of Dark's air force elements. During the day, the guns and the tigers were hidden in holes in the deep snow, under camouflage nets. During the night, Killer hauled up more guns and more ammunition, using his tremendous, unmatched strength.

In the end, he even led a raid deep past the frontline, getting to one of the sophisticated, lethal ground-launched missile batteries that the enemy had just driven across the lakes on the ribbon bridges. He managed to steal the best part of a missile battery: he and his Predators, his especially trained, carefully selected special operators, drove the massive launcher trucks all the way into friendly territory, and from there he hauled even some of those mammoth 10x10 wheeled trucks on top of the mountain.

From there, they dominated the entire valley and had direct line of sight on all their targets. He was going to open fire only once, and he needed to hit every target that mattered, almost simultaneously. The quicker they were, the better, because the enemy still had jets and helicopters to retaliate with.

The following morning, knowing that secrecy was not going to last any longer, “Killer's battery" opened fire from the top of the mountain, raining utter devastation on the NWOA's forces in the valley. They only needed the light of dawn and their eyes, pretty much, to pinpoint their targets.

The enemy artillery concentrations were hit first and showered with carrier-shells, each one containing dozens of sub-munitions, more or less handgrenade-like. The sub-munitions scattered above the enemy gun batteries and utterly devastated them, reducing almost to zero the counter battery fire while other guns and missiles targeted the ribbon bridges, smashing them to smithereens, one by one. The bottom of the lakes was still cluttered with the hulks of the vehicles that had gone to the bottom on that bloody day.

The shoulder-launched SAMs had then taken a terrible toll on Dark's helicopters and jets when they had attempted to bombard the artillery that had suddenly sprung to life on top of the mountain, while the tanks and other vehicles down in the plain literally hadn't enough elevation and reach to fire back. The guns had continued firing until the barrels literally glowed. The NWOA air attacks took out several of the cannons, but those that remained kept firing until the battle was won.

Killer had led the counterattack immediately after the successful artillery strike. The battle had been won decisively, and the NWOA troops on the northern shore, trapped with their backs to the lakes and with no bridges left to cross, had been completely annihilated. The fortress was rescued, and the remains of the NWOA army routed and fled disorderly down the valley and back into Ire, leaving behind a treasure trove of vehicles, stores, cannons, ammunitions. Of course, the kit of the southerners was not quite adequately sized for the imposing, massive tigers, but Killer had rushed into service anything that could be immediately useful and sent everything else to the laboratories in Kesteven for the reverse engineering of the enemy's technology.

The war hadn't ended that day, after all, since Dark had managed to smash through the front in the other valley. The other prong of the NWOA offensive was successful and it advanced all the way north into Kesteven's territory, but that was another story. Killer had caught up with Dark's divisions and had beaten them back again and again, until he had cornered his rival at Wycherley for one last, decisive clash. That colossal battle had been the end of the war, but the battle of Kendrew had been an equally pivotal event. Half of the ultimate victory had been won at Kendrew.

“Killer's Battery" was still there. Kind of. Killer suspected that the name had been changed under the new management. Besides, what had been an untouched mountain back then had been completely reshaped in the years after the battle. Killer's Battery was now a fortress with great triangular bastions and sloped walls, surrounded by literal abysses on all sides as it clung to the rocky tip of the mountain. The only entry was through two successive drawbridges and a ravelin facing westwards. A road had been opened to keep the fortress supplied: it came from the north, obviously, and snaked its way over the top of the other, lower mountains and their exposed flanks. Killer's Battery had an unimpeded line of fire for miles, and could shell anyone traveling along the road into dust: sneaking up on the castle was impossible.

But military engineers had gone further to make that place absolutely invincible. They had carved a “titan's staircase" in the flank of the mountain, going down from the top almost all the way down to the lake. Every “step" of the staircase was actually a solid bastion topped by its own artillery battery. The bastions faced south and north alike, just in case. A steep road and a staircase of literal thousands of steps snaked their way down in the middle of that incredible barrier, all the way down to a second fortress, built at the bottom of the mountain, on a stretch of semi-flat land that could pass for a plateau. An enemy could have possibly sneaked its way through that area, so the engineers had built a fortress there, with large barracks inside for a vast garrison. It was one of the most impressive constructions ever attempted, and it dominated the valley with its gloomy, glorious mass. It made Kendrew's valley completely un-passable for an enemy, no matter how well equipped… at least as long as the sky could be defended enough to keep enemy aircraft from bombing the fortress into bits.

Killer was amazed by the thought that Kendrew was now a kingdom in its own right. He struggled to believe that his father had allowed some kinglet to carve up a kingdom for himself in that place, of all places. The strategic importance of the valley was unchanged, and Kesteven had tried to keep it under direct control ever since the battle. It was true, of course, that the new kinglet would, by merely existing and occupying the place, become a shield for Kesteven. If the south advanced again, the new kingdom would certainly fight to defend itself, and thus effectively the north as a whole. But Killer still felt uneasy at the thought of someone else's flag flying on the two fortresses. For sure, his father wasn't pleased either. So why had he allowed it to happen in the first place…? Something else was clearly preoccupying his mind and his forces elsewhere, and Killer suddenly realized he had no clue what it might be.

That was when he realized that he had truly been away for too long. He sighed, and shook his head slightly, while admiring the fortress in the distance.

Killer's Battery was always unbelievable to witness, even from that distance. Its dark grey mass, snaking down from the top of the mountain almost all the way down to the shore of the lake was so imposing to take the breath away. Besides, the sight of the fortress reminded him immediately of the battle and, even more so, of the many tormenting, exhausting trips he had had to take up and down the mountain, wading through deep snow and tearing his way through virgin forest, all while carrying a few dozen tons of howitzers and ammunition pallets on his shoulders.

As for the other fortress, the one in the middle of the lakes, it was a mix of martial imposingness and of beauty almost worthy of a fairy tale. The damage from the great battle had been fixed, the bastions rebuilt and strengthened… but the ancient castle, the medieval one, had been more widely restructured, with several of its wings now sporting great, arched windows and beautiful porches.

There was a vast and beautiful garden now, which hadn't existed the last time he had been there, and the great façade now had all the grace of a luxurious royal palace, which made pretty clear that he was looking at the capital of that new kingdom. He was definitely going to visit, but he wanted to get a better feel for the place and the people living in the area, and the smaller village of Freedall was the perfect place where to start. After more than seven full years of absence, pretty much everything could have changed, perhaps more than once, and he had to re-learn everything. It would give him a first idea of how the Northlands were going to react to his return: he had left them as the hero who had defeated Dark, but he suspected that all feelings of gratitude and affection had worn off and faded away during the last seven years. He had met no real resistance at the border, but depending on how much the local king feared him, that could well change quickly within the next couple of hours.

It didn't take him long to get to the edges of the town, and the first thing he noticed was the amount of warriors on patrol. They didn't immediately attack him, but their gazes made very clear that he was not welcome and that security forces were already converging around him, if not directly against him.

It was also immediately clear that all the non-tigers walking around the street were terrified of the massive, hulking tiger warriors towering over them. Clearly, the reforms that Seth had forced upon the Northlands had found only partial application in that new kingdom: the other species were no longer quite enslaved, but for sure they did not enjoy parity of rights with the tigers, either. Every non-tiger he met almost crawled along the walls, trying to hide from sight, doing everything possible to stay well out of the way of the heavily armed warriors patrolling the streets. Even the low caste tigers, the non-warriors, which were just above the non-tigers in the social pyramid, were a terrible threat for the “prey species". Even the smallest of tigers was a few heads taller than them and much, much stronger, and it was clear that any controversy not settled immediately by virtues of raw strength would be fixed by the warriors rushing in to lash out swift punishment against any “prey" that dared face the masters.

It was not a happy place, that much was immediately evident. There was a terrible tension in the air, an almost palpable fear governing even everyday life. And Killer's arrival, if possible at all, immediately made the situation even worse. The mood of the warriors on the street visibly worsened, as the newcomer was a threat well above their league. They recognized him, of course… where his fame of “savior of the Northlands" and “slayer of Dark" hadn't arrived, his reputation as monster, destroyer, rapist and porn star had. Very few people in the world could claim not to have seen one of his videos, or at least one of the countless news reports about his rampages.

As the warriors got tense and nervous with fear and uncertainty about what he was there for, they became all the more aggressive towards the preys around them, and the reinforcements rushing in from whatever barracks was in the vicinity of the town only seemed even more hostile.

Killer drove right past one of the first patrols, offering a little nod to the heavily armoured warriors, but they did not respond, only looking coldly at him. If it was an attempt to scare him, it failed miserably as Killer only put up a smirk and brought his hand up to his mouth, using two fingers to mimic the curling of lips into a smile. The point man of the patrol looked outraged at that taunting suggestion, and for a moment Killer thought he was going to pull up his massive assault rifle and fire straight at him, but another warrior in the group seized the top of the weapon and forcefully held it down.

Killer snorted in contempt and entertainment, simply driving past them. Seeing tigers armed so heavily, with rifles in addition to the swords, was unusual. True, the border with Ire was not that far away, but guns on internal security duties in a small village apparently inhabited mostly by “preys"…? That was overkill, and contrary to the customs and concept of honor that dominated the culture of the tigers. They glorified victory in hand to hand combat, not the use of heavy assault weaponry for even the simplest police work, after all. It wasn't a good signal: the local king was either a complete tyrant, or a bit of a coward who had gotten to power with the help of an army and not just with his personal strength and valor. In either case, the king was going to feel enormously threatened by his mere presence, and he could expect an attempt on his life as soon as the local commanders felt they had received enough reinforcements to take him down.

Looking back over his shoulder, towards the bridge he had crossed to get there, he could already see a group of warriors setting up a checkpoint, throwing up great rolls of razor wire across the bridge and parking two massive armoured infantry carrier vehicles across the lanes.

Even when I try to avoid trouble, trouble still gets to me. Killer idly thought, but he was not worried. He had dealt with far worse than that. In his whole military life, which spawned almost literally as long as his life in general, considering how early he had started, he had worked as point man and living… well, not even tank. Something greater, and worse. He had been a sort of walking superweapon who could shrug off most of the enemy firepower while tearing apart tanks, smashing bunkers into bits, tearing down barriers and trampling enemy infantry into pulp. He had demolished fortresses, recovered struck vehicles, hefted tanks out of ditches, pushed assault bridges over rivers and man-made gaps and used his godlike strength in countless other ways. He could smash through that checkpoint without breaking a sweat.

Someone wiser than him would have probably accelerated and rushed towards the other extremity of town, to get out of its narrow streets before more reinforcements could pour in and erect tougher barriers, but Killer really didn't want them to think he was scared, or even worried at all. They weren't enough of a threat to worry him, for one, and he kind of really liked to have someone to beat into pulp.

Despite that, though, he genuinely had no intention of causing trouble. In fact, he wasn't sure yet what he was going to do. He had started that journey knowing that it was time to change, to stop rampaging like a mindless monster and to maybe find a good way to begin cleaning up his name, if not his soul. For the soul it was probably too late, considering how many victims, how much cruel destruction he had left behind in his wake, but he hoped the Northlands would provide him with a chance and an inspiration for a fresh start. He just had no clue how.

The roar of his enormous motorbike seemed to rattle the very buildings on either side of the street as he slowed down and drove into a pleasant town square with a large fountain in the middle. There were other warriors here, uneasily standing guard at the exits, but none of them looked eager to step forwards and annoy him, so he just ignored their presence.

He noticed the windows of a pub instead, at the ground floor of a large, ancient building built out of large stone blocks and massive trunks and beams of hardwood, chiseled and assembled to form the frame of the house. The steep roof was made of slabs of stone emplaced in overlapping rows, and a tall chimney lazily puffed out a little column of smoke. Killer liked that kind of traditional, ancient constructions and he also felt the need for a drink, so he decided that he was in the right place for a bit of “reconnaissance". He pulled up in front of the pub, unconcerned by the large armoured vehicle and several military bikes parked nearby, and easily dismounted from his black metal-horse, smirking a bit to himself as he spotted the disbelief on the faces of some of the warriors around the town square.

He pushed the door of the pub and ducked, half-turning sideways to fit through the door, but thankfully the room beyond was roomy enough that he could straighten, even though his rebellious mane was not far away from the wooden beams. There was a loud crash as a glass fell to the ground and shattered, and an incredible silence suddenly fell over the place, even though it was crowded, with bulky tiger warriors sitting almost at every table of the country-style pub, many of them unceremoniously helping themselves to a piece of the non-tiger waitresses, grabbing their ass and breasts like they owned them. The rest of the customers, non-tigers, looked horribly uncomfortable: most of them were sitting at tables in the back of the room and were clearly frozen stiff by fear, not daring to get up and walk past the massive warriors to get to the exit. The owner of the place was an old grey wolf, and he was staring at him with bulging eyes from behind the massive bench. He had been the one responsible for the crash: in his fearful awe at the sight of Killer, he had lost the grip on the glass he had been cleaning.

Killer's well-trained eyes, guided by his military experience, rapidly scanned the whole place as he unconsciously took notice of every possible danger and of all the convenient ways out. The non-tigers were obviously no threat at all: even the wolf, even though he was nearly 7 feet tall and thus pretty extraordinary for the standards of “prey", looked almost ludicrously small next to him. They were little toys that he could play with in any and every way he wanted, and they were not going to provoke him in any way. The warriors were another story entirely. They were all heavily armed, and they were quite a group. Even though Killer was individually much bigger and far stronger than any of them, they could still be dangerous… and he immediately spotted at least a couple of faces that looked stupid enough to try and challenge him. The two idiots were corporals in charge of small groups of warriors, and their expressions made clear that they greatly overvalued both themselves and the strength of their platoons. Besides, the two corporals were sitting on a comfortable couch in the corner, along with a few other officers at the same table and, most importantly, with two tigresses that they were clearly determined to impress. A single glance at their bodies and clothes was enough to understand that they were Forbidden Females, part of the personal harem of the local king. They were both beautiful, with slender bodies toned by a good training regime and crowned by plentiful, firm curves and plump, alluring breasts. They wore dark dresses split at the front, which showed off part of their breasts, all of their cleavage and their flat abdomens, and they also wore expensive gold necklaces and bracelets.

The officers had almost certainly smuggled the two females out of the royal castle for that trip away from the capital, and that made the warriors more dangerous, because they would undoubtedly be on hedge. Eager to impress the girls, and at the same time terrified that the news of their crime might get in the king's ears. Killer let out an imperceptible snort of entertainment: he hadn't dared expecting such luck. He had the chance to get a good drink, then a brawl, and then a couple of Forbidden Females to have fun with. It had been too long since his last one… and way too long since he had had females bid and strong enough to take most of his cock inside without turning into pulp. Southerner girls were eager to serve, but their tiny, frail bodies meant he could only use a fraction of his tremendous sizes and just a hint of his strength… if he wanted them to survive, that is. He had developed a sick and very intense pleasure for not just ruining but utterly destroying his prey. It was one of his worst and most frequent crimes, and a long series of movies and an endless sequence of videos on the internet were out there, showing off just how many lives he had annihilated just to satiate his appetites. He was so massive and powerful and flat out excessive that he could easily kill even the two tigresses if he wanted, but for once he was content just with the thought of getting a decent blowjob and being able to bury a decent portion of his enormous shaft into two juicy holes. It was not going to be difficult: both females were already staring at him with sparkling eyes and matching little grins that he knew well, after seeing them so many, many times on so many, many different girls of all species and sizes. He offered them a little grin of his own, and a little nod of his head.

The two corporals did not miss any of that and only glared at him with greater ferocity and hate because of it, their bodies visibly stiffening and their hands grabbing into the table and into the stocks of the rifles resting on top of it. The enormous male smirked a little and turned his back on them, pretending not to have noticed them at all as he perched as best he could on a tall stool that, although sized for large tigers, was, as usual, not quite big enough for his needs. He tapped one huge finger on the countertop, saying simply: “Whisky".

“Y-you… you here…! Y-your highness…! Prince Huxley… it's… it's an honor…" The grey wolf babbled, looking at the titanic male with eyes that bulged in awe, but Killer only smiled slightly and gave him a look meant to remind him he had made his order.

“Of course, your majesty. Immediately!" The wolf hurriedly said, looking flushed as he turned around and fetched a large bottle of his best whisky, and the largest glass he could find on the shelves behind him. “I… I never thought I'd… I'd get to… see you, in person…"

“A fan?" Killer playfully asked, arching an eyebrow. Very few people in the world hadn't seen or heard of him in a way or another. His career as porn actor in the south had given him plenty of visibility, even before the war against Dark had made him the “savior of the northlands" and before his seven years of lawless, monstrous rampage had turned him into the very real demon that terrorized not just children but even adults, both at night and in full daylight.

The wolf blushed furiously, babbling half-formed words without a meaning while pouring whisky into the large glass, and Killer couldn't help but smirk as he teasingly added: “If you want an autograph, you'll have to give me a pen. Or maybe it's your wife that wants one…? Or your daughter. I always make time for the daughters of my fans."

The old wolf swallowed thickly, but couldn't force any word out of his mouth… and then Killer saw a shadow of new fear fill the barman's eyes as he stared at something behind his back. The huge liger only grinned to himself, immediately understanding that the two idiots had stood up. The silence in the pub, full of tension, had somehow taken on a new tone. Killer brought the glass to his lips and drank down the whisky, savoring it for a moment and then offering the wolf a little nod of approval. It really was good quality stuff.

He heard the steps a moment later, as well as sudden murmurs and grumblings, but still he did not react. He tapped his finger on the bench once more, shaking the wolf out of his trance, and completely ignored the two bulky officers that leaned against the counter, one on either side of him. The bell at the door jiggled as a tiger soldier rushed outside, but Killer did not react.

A voice behind him growled: “what's the infamous Killer Huxley doing here?", and he immediately knew that it belonged to one of the two idiots. They were both behind him, and he did not need to look to know exactly where they stood: his senses were sharp and his instincts forged in countless battles. They told him all he needed to know. “You are far from home, savior."

Killer grinned widely to himself and licked his lips slowly. Oh, how he enjoyed every chance he got of punching someone's face into pulp… And if they started it, he was completely justified as well. No guilty feelings afterwards.

“I haven't decided yet what I'm looking for." Killer idly replied, enormous arms crossed on the counter as he idly watched the trembling wolf refill his glass and spill a lot of whisky onto the bench in the process. “If I follow this road, it will lead me home. I've been away for quite a while… but I'm not sure that's what I want to do right now."

The officers on either side of him looked nervous. They were clearly a little smarter than the two corporals behind his back, and their eyes kept coming back to the massive, majestic biceps of his crossed arms, and to his hulking, towering form in general. They were standing, he was sitting on a stool too small to really serve him well. He still towered over them both.

“We don't like wanderers. They always end up causing trouble." The corporal insisted, before muttering: “And you have a particularly bad record. You are not welcome here."

“Well, that is your problem." Killer easily replied, shrugging slightly with his massive, powerful shoulders. “I actually like this place. I might even decide to stay."

“Oh, you better not!" The tiger snarled, but Killer only leisurely drank his whisky before calmly announcing: “You are very loud, like a tiny dog who feels the need to bark at everything to feel a bit safer. If you don't mind, you could look me in the eyes and tell me what is your problem."

“What is… the problem…?" The corporal incredulously muttered, before pushing his rifle forwards. The other officer sitting to the left of Killer immediately leaned against him and grabbed the weapon, restraining it so that the long, sharp bayonet only poked into the liger's massive back, and his eyes clearly told his comrade not to act recklessly. Killer heard the brief struggle as the corporal stubbornly tried to wrestle his rifle free of the other tiger's grip, but still he did not make any move. “You motherfucking piece of shit! You think you're funny? You've spent the last seven years destroying everything you touched and you ask me what the problem is? This is our land, and the last thing we need is a troublemaking prince without a throne for his ass."

“You are scared that I will start mopping the floor with your faces, in other words. That's cute." Killer replied, smirking in mild entertainment, and that only caused the warriors around him to shift uncomfortably, while the corporal fumed with barely restrained fury at being treated like a joke.

Again the two officers on either side of him tried to restrain their comrades, to inspire prudence in them and bring the situation back under control. The one who had grabbed the rifle walked away from the counter and gently but firmly pushed the nervous corporal back a couple of steps, remarking: “Stop it, Randall. He got the message. We don't want any trouble, especially with the Huxley bloodline. Our king intends to be a good neighbor…" The officer let go of Randall's weapon, and turned around to lean down on the counter, looking at Killer in his best impression of a tough, no-shit face.

“… as long as you behave." The officer hissed, but he failed miserably at coming across as in any way threatening. Drops of nervous sweat rolled down his forehead, and his eyes continued to wander wildly over Killer's hulking musculature. In the northlands they said that Killer's strength was worth twenty-two armies: one for each of his fingers, and two for each of his thumbs. They had all grown up hearing the stories about the “savior", and they certainly knew the story of “Killer's battery" and of other legendary feats of strength, so being in his presence was a true shock… and his towering, massive figure was nothing short of terrifying.

The officer to the right looked nervously into Killer's icy blue eyes and then tentatively said: “There will be no trouble if you are just passing by. We'll escort you along the way and leave you at the border. Don't cause a commotion, and everything will be just fine."

The officer's gaze almost begged the gigantic male to give a confirmation that he was not going to cause havoc in town, but the liger only gave a hint of a smile.

“You are doing everything on your own." Killer easily replied, shrugging slightly. “You are the ones who seem to be looking for a fight".

The furious corporals almost trembled with their murderous but impotent rage, and the other soldiers at the tables stared at the scene in a mix of horror and anger. Horror because they knew the stories about Killer Huxley all too well. Hell, the war against Dark had ended only seven years earlier: the older warriors, like the two officers who were trying to avoid a fight, had literally fought under Killer against the NWOA. They had followed his orders and had seen him throwing tanks like baseballs and turning enemy soldiers into literal pulp. They knew that the stories were true… and they could see that Killer had only gotten even bigger and stronger in the years that had passed. That was a fight that they really didn't want. Their number and their rifles were next to meaningless, such was the titan's supernatural strength.

“Who's your king, anyway…?" Killer calmly asked, and he could feel the barely contained fury in the corporal standing behind him, who was clutching obsessively at his heavy rifle.

The officer leaning against the counter, however, kept glaring at the younger warrior and shaking his head, at once ordering and begging him not to cause a fight. The officer on the other side of Killer, equally tense, looked down at the giant liger and replied with as firm a voice as he could summon: “Griagas Burke, first of his name. He claimed possession of this region five years ago."

“I have no clue who he might be." Killer dismissively said, shaking his head a little before tilting it slightly to the side and musing: “Let me guess: he was part of the garrison of Killer's Battery; saw he was the strongest in the bunch and decided to pick his chance, hasn't he…? Did he use the artillery to scare the town into surrender?"

There was an awkward, ugly moment of silence at that insulting guess, and the two tigers standing behind him angrily moved closer even as one of the older officers again rushed forwards to hold them back… and one of the Forbidden Females sitting at the table finally spoke, with a note of amusement in her voice. “That's pretty much what happened. If you hadn't heard the story already, Lord Killer, your guess confirms that the tactical acumen mentioned by the stories of your victories is very true."

“Real kings wouldn't have so many soldiers on the street. It was an easy guess." Killer easily said, shrugging a bit as he half-turned around to smile at the two females. They were both very graceful, and their bodies, orange-white with black stripes, were fit and firm, clearly shaped with great care. Their luxurious palace life was predicated on staying in the king's graces, after all, so much of their day was spent in the gym, to hone their physiques to perfection. One of the two was several inches taller than the other, and was also visibly more toned, thicker with muscle that was noticeable, but not bulky. She was the one who had talked, and the two over-excited officials standing just behind Killer were now glaring at her in a mix of outrage and disbelief.

“Nobody pours scorn on our king! How dare you talk that way of your Master!" The over-excited corporal snarled, glaring at the two females, and Killer snorted in a mix of entertainment and irritation before calmly looking straight into his eyes as he coldly said: “You know, I haven't been here very long, but you haven't shut your mouth for more than a few seconds ever since I entered. And that is getting on my nerves. You don't wail against a lady, boy… especially when you are a hypocritical asshole. You can't have much respect for your king either, if you are here with two of his Forbidden ladies."

“Hit and sunk." The second tigress commented, laughing, and her amusement only made the two corporals angrier, while even the older officers now started to move away from the counter, getting more aggressive. The taller girl again intervened, stinging the angry young platoon corporal with a playful but humiliating remark: “Randall, sit right down, you are embarrassing everyone. Getting command of a platoon didn't give you superpowers. Don't start a fight when you don't stand a chance."

“Shut the fuck up!" Randall barked, but the two ladies only gave him the finger, before the tall one muttered: “Excuse him, Lord Killer. He has been promoted platoon leader only days ago, and now he feels like he's gone from zero to hero. Stupidity is making him blind: he can't even see he stands before a real Hero."

“Even a small hint of power is enough to overwhelm the mind of a loser and make him throw all caution to the wind." Killer agreeably commented, and the corporal gaped and glared at him in a mix of fury and utter disbelief at how he was openly belittling him in front of the soldiers of his platoon, and many others.

The liger all but ignored him, his threats, his presence, his authority, and instead looked at the two Forbidden Females to ask them: “The only thing that matters, ladies, is whether you are here out of your own choice, or because these guys are forcing you."

The two girls traded a look, and a little smirk appeared on their faces as they realized that the huge male was utterly in control. All the soldiers in the pub, and even those outside, mattered very little: this titan was more than able and more than willing to fight and defeat them all.

“It's a… 50-50 kind of answer, I think." The shorter girl said, and the taller one completed: “We are happy to be out of the castle for once… but the price these boys are going to ask us for this taste of freedom is quite excessive."

Killer clicked his lips in disapproval and looked up at Randall with a slow, grave shake of his head, coldly stating: “We'll have to put that right, I'm afraid."

Before the furious corporal could bark some kind of insult, one of the officers angrily stepped in and glared at the two females, then at Randall, then at Killer, coldly stating: “Enough now! Let's stop it here while no one has gotten hurt yet. Pipe it down, Ladies. And you, Lord Huxley, stay out of local matters you have no part into. I will have to ask you to follow our instructions. We'll escort you to the border, right away."

Outside the windows, Killer saw one of the massive Armoured Personnel Carriers creeping slowly closer, taking position right outside as the ominous Remote Weapon Station on top buzzed and trailed its heavy machine gun towards him. A second vehicle was also on the move, and now things started to get interesting as Randall hissed in rage and aimed his heavy rifle at Killer, making a show of how he armed it. The officers didn't stop him this time, even as he angrily barked: “Get up from that stool and get marching, Lord. Or I'll put a whole lot of holes in you."

“Don't be an idiot, Randall!" The tall girl exclaimed, but the second over-excited young warrior pulled out his heavy handgun and made a loud show of arming it, hissing venomously: “This is not the south. Causing trouble here is not wise: unlike the gnats down south, we can actually bite back."

“Can you…?" Killer taunted, unfazed by the provocation and by the two weapons aimed against him… which became four with the massive weapons on top of the vehicles parked right outside. The officer who had remained close to Killer got behind his back and drew out his heavy handgun and pressed the cold barrel into the back of the liger's neck, pushing forwards with threatening force and coldly replying: “You know we can, Lord Killer. I was in Dark's War, and you know better than anyone else what the warriors of the North can do. I don't want to do this, General, but you are not helping me. Please, just get up and let's get out of here."

“Beware of an old man in a young man's profession, huh...?" Killer easily commented, smiling a little and tossing a gaze back over his shoulder at the old official, before nodding and standing up from the stool.

The soldiers at the table stared in awe at that scene, relieved and amazed to see the legendary Killer Huxley comply to an order, and Randall grinned widely, cheerful and victorious, and he immediately closed the distance to poke his bayonet into the giant's exposed, formidable abs, reaching to his belt at the same time to draw out a large, heavy pair of handcuffs.

“Stay back, you idiot…!" The old officer barked in warning, but Killer was way too fast. The liger's tail snapped sideways like a whip, catching the experienced officer by surprise and sweeping the legs out from under him, sending him crashing onto his knees, the gun dropping away from the back of Killer's head.

The liger's hand shot down and wrapped around the barrel of Randall's rifle, and there was a loud, horrible groan of metal and crack of plastic polymers shattering as the titan crushed the weapon like it was made of paper, before swinging it hard upwards, smacking it into the corporal's shocked face and sending him stumbling backwards with a cry of pain and a splatter of blood bursting out of his nose.

Randall's hand immediately rushed towards the large pistol sheathed on his hip, but Killer's hand was faster and caught him by the throat, and the hulking liger was so massive that his huge hand covered most of the corporal's face as well. Randall was instantaneously hefted into the air, feet kicking uselessly at the air as he let out a scream of fear, pain and rage as the liger's fingers made his skull creak audibly.

The other corporal gaped in shock but quickly aimed his pistol and fired, loosening out a well-trained “double tap" and sending the heavy bullets smacking in the middle of Killer's chest, but the hulking male was unfazed by the impact and prioritized the far more dangerous armoured vehicles parked outside of the window, throwing Randall's bulky form right up against one of the Remote Weapon Stations just as it trailed its large gun on him.

The crew inside the vehicle hesitated as their comrade was hurled like a toy and sent smashing through the glass, and Randall crashed violently into the turret, blood spraying from his wounds as he shrieked in agony and the massive gun was knocked backwards and rocked out of alignment, while the corporal's body covered the large thermal camera, making it impossible for the crew inside to aim.

“S-stop right there!" The remaining corporal barked, but his voice trembled as he fired another double-tap only to see the two bullets crumpling against Killer's massive shoulder like they were made of paper and saliva. He backed off from the titanic male, retreating towards the table where he had left his massive assault rifle, but one of the tigresses grabbed it and aimed it against him, grinning as she taunted: “No, no, no. Four to one, with guns and two APCs in support. You picked the fight, now lose with dignity!"

The second large 8x8 armoured vehicle roared forwards and smashed through the entrance to the pub, while the crew inside barked into a radio connected to loudspeakers on the weapon station: “Lieutenant, get out of the way or we'll shoot through you!"

The lieutenant in question was the second officer that had been hovering near Killer, and who now was trapped between the titanic liger and the large armoured vehicle, brandishing a pistol which, as he had just seen, was as much use as a peashooter would be to stop a running train. In a panic, the officer fired five or six rounds in rapid succession, aiming up at the liger's face, but Killer shielded himself with one huge arm and closed the distance with horrible speed. The officer drew out his sword, and Killer had just enough time to recognize a Type 0, smaller than his own twin ones but otherwise identical. Kestevenian weapons… and that only made him angrier, because these soldiers had probably served his father until a few years earlier.

The lieutenant stabbed the broadsword forwards, but Killer fearlessly caught it in one hand and twisted it sideways, making him grunt in pain as he felt like his arm would be ripped right off at the shoulder joint… before the officer's eyes bulged in shock as Killer pushed his thumb against the flat of the blade, and cracked it in half like it was nothing but a twig.

“I surrender! I surr-“

Killer snorted in contempt and swung out his massive arm, slapping the shrieking warrior out of his way like he would a gnat. The bulky officer let out a broken cry of pain as he flew across the room and then crashed with terrible violence into the side of the first APC, hitting hard enough to rock the massive vehicle on its suspensions. He slumped brokenly down the side of the vehicle, coughing up blood, and he howled towards his soldiers still sitting, shell-shocked, at several tables of the pub: “Get the fuck up, you lazy assholes! Shoot him! Take him down!"

Killer lashed out his massive fist and caught him in full face, instantaneously silencing his shouts and replacing them with a horrible, sick squelch of blood and gore as the officer's head turned into nothing but crimson mist. Someone shouted in awe, someone in terror and horror as that same fist, not even slowed down, tore through the armored hull of the vehicle, blowing a massive hole in it. There were muffled shrieks from inside, and then the ramp at the rear crashed down and a couple of soldiers ran out of the vehicle, almost falling over themselves as they stared with bulging eyes at the titan.

Killer ignored them, instead swinging his arm sideways and ripping through the flank of the vehicle like it was made of paper instead of steel, and when his hand tore back out, it was clutching a deformed, crumpled helmet and a ruined head inside it, with part of a spine hanging from it.

“I should destroy you all…" Killer coldly observed, sending a shiver down their spines as he dismissively threw away the ripped-off head of that soldier that had thought himself safe inside the APC… and the other officer, the one that had been sent falling onto the floor at the very beginning, threw away his weapons and shouted: “Nobody move! Throw down your weapons, and don't waste your lives!"

None of the soldiers at the tables had been in any hurry to get up, even before being told, but they welcomed the order and hurriedly discarded their weapons, hoping it would be enough to get the prince to spare them. Killer ignored them all altogether, however, ducking instead and closing the short distance separating him from the second APC as the massive machine gun on top of it opened fire, and sent out a burst of armor-piercing rounds that tore through the massive counter and pulverized part of it in a hailstorm of wooden slivers and fragments. He could shrug off the bullets from the pistols and even assault rifle fire would have a hard time incapacitating him in any meaningful way, but that cannon could hurt even him. The driver knew it, or at least hoped so, and he rapidly hit the reverse, trying to keep the distance and trying to ensure the machine gun had a good enough angle to fire against the liger. Killer, though, was not just incredibly strong, but also terribly fast, and his feet tore deep prints in the pavement as he charged after the APC and grabbed the front of it with one hand.

Time seemed to freeze as the enormous vehicle immediately screeched to a violent, absurd halt even as all 8 wheels continued to revolve… and then, just like that, Killer swung his arm upwards, and hefted the huge vehicle clear off the ground, sending it flying skywards and flipping like a toy before crashing upside-down in the middle of the square.

Randall gaped in shock at that, trembling violently as he peeled his broken body off the Remote Weapon Station on top of the other APC and crawled on the roof, grabbing the handles of the enormous weapon and switching to manual controls to trail it against Killer. “I'll fuckin' kill you, you monster!"

Killer smirked patronizingly, then pulled up one leg and smashed his foot into the side of the great vehicle, sending it skidding sideways with a great screech of rubber on pavement, the vehicle turning over on one side and sending Randall crashing down onto the floor.

The corporal groaned in shock and pain, coughing up blood and vomit… and then he scampered backwards with whimpers of horror as the massive vehicle absurdly rose off the ground, higher, higher, higher, until Killer's glorious, hulking form was revealed, effortlessly holding the APC high above his head… with just one hand, the other resting easily on his hip.

“Promoting you to corporal was a grave mistake." Killer softly commented, looking idly down at the quivering, bloodied wreck of a man on the ground. “Someone with so little judgment in picking fights would inexorably lead his whole platoon into disaster."

The terrified corporal babbled some kind of apology or prayer, but he sounded very much like the cry of terrified mice, and Killer didn't really get a word. Not that he cared. He pulled up one heavy leather-and-steel boot, grinning as his other foot sunk deeper into the pavement, tearing through stone and concrete due to the combined weight of his body and of the APC all pressing down on one of his soles… but while the ground gave in, there wasn't a shudder in his omnipotent musculature. As far as he was concerned, the APC was like a feather. He pushed his cruel, spiked steel sole into Randall's face, and the corporal didn't need an order to start kissing and licking the cold metal, tasting blood, and death, and dust and ruin. How many lives had been trampled to mush under those boots…? Thousands and thousands… hell, maybe millions. And now Randall was painfully aware that he was going to be the next ant crushed under his toes if he couldn't worship his boot in a convincing way.

Every other soldier or civilian in the area stared in awe at that spectacle, trembling as Killer calmly lowered his foot and then pulled up the other, to have the other boot tongue-polished as well… and when Killer snorted in contempt and dropped the foot back on the ground, Randall shivered and squeaked: “Is… is your majesty… satisfied…?"

“No." Killer easily replied, before again placing one foot on the warrior's face. “Bad officers are bad for their soldiers. I'm sure your platoon will be thankful for your… downsizing."

Randall shrieked in denial and pushed with all his strength against the massive steel sole as it began to drop down, heavily compressing his spine, making it creak and then crack audibly as Killer grinned coldly and slowly, oh so slowly crushed the soldier down on himself, turning his skeleton into dust and his shrieks into a disgusting gargle before the steel sole tore into the pavement and blood spurted and bubbled up from beneath. In a terrified, surreal silence, Killer slowly twisted his foot on the spot as if he was shutting a cigarette butt, and then he snorted in contempt and smashed the APC down with such force that its front sunk into the ground, leaving the vehicle standing up like a sinister, massive tombstone.

The titan almost playfully gripped the armoured hatch on top of the commander's cupola and ripped it off like the lid to a tin can, before mocking: “Crawl out, vermin, before I decide to see how far I can throw this toy, with you in it."

He watched as three warriors came out, moving on all fours like dogs and not daring to look up at him, and he snorted in contempt before turning and walking back inside the devastated bar. All soldiers were on their knees and hands, heads bowed, their weapons tossed in a pile. The officer he had knocked down was in front of them, forehead literally touching the ground. The arrogant corporal that, together with the one called Randall, had caused all that commotion, was laying on the floor, sobbing and begging for forgiveness, while the two tigresses stood behind him, one of them loosely holding the corporal's rifle.

“Your Majesty, we… we beg your pardon…" The officer began, his eyes bulging as he stared at the terrible crimson footprints the prince left behind, but Killer ignored him and walked right up to the corporal instead.

“Please, Master, please… I beg you, it… it was a mistake, I… I am a worthless speck of dust in your presence, I… I shouldn't have…"

“Shut up." Killer idly said, and the corporal trembled and chocked on a sudden surge of vomit as the titan stopped with his bloodstained boot right in front of his face. Splotches of Randall's hair and hide were recognizable amid chunks of bloody gore. The corporal trembled violently and retched audibly while tears streaked down his cheeks, but without waiting for an order he crawled closer and dragged his tongue over the dirty steel, tasting death and ruin and ichors.

“Your friend got one of my boots all dirty." Killer cruelly stated, and the sobbing corporal licked even faster, choking on the larger chunks of horror… before the liger shifted his stance, moving his boot away. For a moment, the corporal almost beamed, thinking he would be spared, but then he was pinned to the floor as the other boot unceremoniously settled upon his head. “Now I need you to make the other boot red as well…"

There was a shriek of denial and horror, and then a terrible crunching and squelching noise, then the crack of the steel sole biting literally into the wooden planks of the floor, before Killer contemptuously yanked his foot back, painting a terrible crimson smear-trench in the floor.

The two females shivered and gasped, staring at that display of power and ferocity with a mix of horror and awe, and Killer smirked and took the rifle out of the tigress's hands, effortlessly snapping the weapon in half like it was the toy of a petulant child.

“Your majesty… I beg your pardon…" The older officer whimpered, but even in the panic, his voice retained a degree of dignity that the corporals just did not possess. Killer looked down at the seasoned warrior, spotting several scars, and then snorted and tilted his head to the side, muttering: “From a warrior of your experience, I would have expected better common sense."

“I… guilty as charged, your highness…" The officer replied, swallowing thickly and looking up at the hulking male in confusion, not sure about what to expect. Those weren't the words he had imagined coming.

“A veteran of Dark's war should know better… and should also have good memories of me. You should have known how it would end…" Killer commented, and then idly scratched his bare, broad, powerful, masculine chest, snorting in entertainment as he added: “And you should have known that pistols aren't of any use against me."

“N-no excuse, Sir." The officer whimpered, dropping his face against the floor. The young warriors all around waited in terror and awe, terrified by what the massive male could do to them all, but Killer looked down at them with benevolence. The officer began to hope again when he wasn't reprimanded for replying to Killer like he was still General Wyvern, the leader of the Northern armies against the hordes of Dark. Killer smiled slightly, in fact, and finally said: “These platoons will need new corporals… and better ones, in fact. You'll be responsible for them, in the meanwhile."

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir." The officer hurriedly replied, before Killer instructed: “Make sure no one disturbs me while I talk to the ladies here… I don't want any of the soldiers outside to cause another commotion. Pick up your weapons if necessary, and ensure I'm not disturbed."

A collective breath of relief came from the groveling soldiers, and the officer hurriedly accused the received order while Killer squeezed the two Forbidden Females against his sides and led them to their corner table. They were both visibly shaken, but also excited and eager to get to know him better, even though their eyes repeatedly darted towards the ugly red footprints he left on the floor.

“Of course, you are not escaping your own share of punishment, though." Killer announced, without even looking back at the officer who was hesitatingly picking himself up.

“O-of course no, sir."

“Your idiot-corporals got my boots dirty… you'll get them clean." Killer announced, smirking as he sat down between the two females, who clung to his massive arms and ground their legs into his own, while admiring the majesty of his hulking body and the monstrous proportions of the bulge in his pants.

Killer also snapped his fingers once, shaking the terrified, shell-shocked barman from his trance and smirking as the wolf hurriedly collected glasses, food bowls and bottles of every brand of liquor he had left. The burst of machine gun fire had annihilated a few cabinets and shelves as well, disintegrating a multitude of bottles, and he couldn't help but look with horror at the devastation of his place and at the great and expanding lake of mixed liquors on the floor.

“I've turned this poor man's floor into a mess as well…" Killer playfully remarked as the wolf tremblingly poured several glasses full of various liquors, and the officer froze in his crawl and looked up in horror, already knowing what would follow as Killer added: “You will clean up all of my footprints, too"

The officer didn't even try to complain, swallowing his pride and crawling obediently across the room, towards Killer's feet as the gigantic male stretched his legs under the table. Thankfully, all of the soldiers were way too scared and shocked by what they had seen to really care about the humiliation of their company commander, and nobody was probably ever going to sting him with remarks about that event. The all felt crushed in the same way… and relieved to still be alive.

The wolf, on his part, trembled violently, standing near the table and sweating as he waited for a command from the titan, who checked the food and bottles and finally gave a nod of approval. The wolf bowed deeply and hurriedly began to scamper away, but Killer called him back and dug down into one pocket, pulling out a huge roll of banknotes. The wolf's eyes widened in shock at that, wondering how much money was in that thick pile, and Killer held it out to him, saying simply: “This should cover my expenses here, and all the damage. Get the place fixed up nicely. And sorry for the inconvenience."

The wolf tremblingly, hesitatingly reached up, expecting to be turned into mush the moment he touched the money, but Killer only smiled in entertainment and dropped it in his hand, leaving him almost crying with relief, confusion, happiness, gratitude and other emotions.

“Oh, mighty king, thank you, I… I… thank you! I… I have no words…"

“No need to find any." Killer easily replied, shaking his head slightly. Money was never an issue for him. In the south he had earned, conquered, taken, and claimed more riches than could be counted. He had claimed the gold reserves of entire states just for the kick of it; received spectacular ransom sums from regions and states which had hoped to buy his mercy with gold, without any success; taken everything he wanted from whatever home, palace or place; he had torn apart the vaults of countless banks just for the fun of it and the shock it caused in the southerners to see enormous armored doors bent like the lids of tin cans; he was paid spectacular amounts of royalties for his many pornographic movies and countless internet videos; he received daily tributes, payments, tips and donations from countless cuckolds, paypigs, fans, groupies and he had literally made a sport of fucking eager, needy hotwives behind payment of sums of one thousand dollars for every inch of his cock. With how monstrously immense his cock was, he literally drained bank accounts dry with just one fuck. He was absurdly, obscenely rich and handing out a couple million bucks to the pub's owner was for him the rough equivalent of losing a penny.

Killer leaned back in the small corner sofa, smirking slightly as he looked down at the seasoned warrior meekly licking his combat boots clean, then at the wolf who slowly retreated, walking backwards and bowing to him again and again and again, and he lazily rolled his massive shoulders before he smiled at the two girls at his sides. “Sorry, but I had a couple of things to take care of."

“Lord Killer... that was an incredible display... Holy hell, the way you turned over those vehicles! If they had told me the story, I would have struggled to believe." The tall girl said, beaming as she looked up at him with her delightful amber eyes. " You've just proven that everything they say about you is true!"

She was well over 12 feet tall, which was a pretty impressive size for a female, and seeing her up close only further evidenced how much care she put into chiseling her body. She was not overly muscular, but very firm and toned and with plenty of strength. Her large breasts stood proudly on her chest, straining her dress, and she had graceful features, framed by a long mane of hair going down to the middle of her back.

The liger smiled and tilted his head slightly as he replied: “Well, I'll let you be the judge of that. They do say a whole lot of things, after all. But you know a lot about me, while I know so little about you. What are your names?"

The two girls bowed their heads slightly, smiling almost in apology at that. They were ladies from the royal palace, pretty much trained in the arts of being always kind, always pleasant and very much always alluring and actively enticing. They knew how to provoke him, in the best of ways, even with just a gaze, and their eyes and moves were having a real effect on him, which was very much enhanced by the fact that they were gently and maliciously caressing his muscular thighs, dangerously near to the enormous bulge in his pants, and teasingly wrapping their tails around his legs.

“My name is Athena, my prince." The tall girl answered, confirming once again that she was the one in the pair with the more dominant personality. “It is a pleasure to meet you, and such an honor… and such a great stroke of luck. We didn't dare hoping in something so wonderful…"

“My name is Joy, my prince." The second girl said, bowing her head and shrinking a bit in her shoulders like she was in front of a literal god. “It… it was so impressive to see you… not fight, no. That was never a fight, was it…? It looked like it was so easy for you!"

“It was." Killer admitted, grinning a little and nodding slightly. It could look arrogant, but it was not intended to be. It had just really been easy; there wasn't a way around that truth. He laughed, and added: “I've been through far worse, and these idiots should have known better. Why are you out here with morons like those…?"

He turned to look down at the smaller of the two girls, smiling warmly but also studying her with interest. She was a little less shapely than Athena, and also a little less toned… perhaps a bit lazier than her friend and less committed to gym efforts. She was still beautiful, however, and there was a special kind of glint burning in her splendid green eyes as she gazed up at him with awe, adoration and fearful reverence, her hands eager to explore all of his formidable body but at the same time hesitating in a way that admittedly pleased him greatly. It was not an unusual reaction, since he really looked like a god to most people, but it never failed to please.

“They were our best and maybe only chance to leave the castle for a while, so we went along with them, no matter the… price." Athena quietly replied, while looking at him with a little, begging question in her eyes… and when he gave a slight nod of approval, she leaned into him, her hands stroking reverently over his powerful chest and down over his chiseled abs, slowly wandering closer and closer to his belt. “We… hoped we might find a way to leave for good. Better yet, we hoped we might be able to find help for ourselves and for the whole kingdom, before our “king" puts us all in real trouble."

The contempt in her voice was very evident in how she pronounced the word “king", and Killer did not fail to notice the grimace that, for a brief moment, deformed her gracious features. Griagas, evidently, had not gained the approval of those two ladies, and probably many others had the same reservations, but that could be due to a million different reasons: maybe he had just denied their requests one time too many. Unhappy palace ladies were one of the worst dangers for a northerner king, however, since they often ended up seeking the help of a more promising Alpha, and that seemed exactly what Athena and Joy had been trying to do. And the army, for whatever reason, was effectively facilitating that. Aside from Randall's sheer stupidity, and beyond the simple sexual appetites of a bunch of young warriors tempted by two experienced and beautiful Forbiddens, there clearly was something else that was seriously wrong about the new kingdom of Kendrew.

“Tell me more. Where does this Griagas come from…?" Killer asked, looking down at them with interest, and even half-kicked the humiliated officer that was licking the gore and dust off his combat boots. “You have Kestevenian swords, and the troops of my father used to hold the fortress that carries my name. What happened?"

“Answer him, boy." Athena coldly ordered, and the officer swallowed thickly, struggling not to vomit as he did his best to ignore the horrendous taste and consistence of the bloody, dirty pulp going down his gullet.

“We used to serve under Kesteven's flag, your Highness." The officer finally admitted, barely able to speak as his throat convulsed and tears rolled down his cheeks. “Griagas was one of our commanding officers, up at Killer's Battery. The strongest man in the whole garrison, by far… not strong enough to challenge the Huxley bloodline directly, but more than enough to grow ambitious."

“And you all allowed him to just proclaim himself king of this valley…?" Killer venomously asked, glaring down at him in distaste and rage, but Joy gently pushed him back, leaning her hands over his massive chest and shaking her head slowly as she cautioned: “It's more complex than that… did you see the RA mark on those APCs?"

Of course he had seen it. Every armoured vehicle he had passed by had that conspicuous symbol painted on the flank. An R and A, inscribed in a circular shield, with its top half golden and the bottom half dark red. A golden, stylized lightning bolt went down through the red half, while a red gallon was visible in the yellow field, just above the black letters. That symbol meant nothing to Killer: he had not come across it anywhere else. He had been curious at first, but he hadn't attached too much importance to it: it seemed to be not the symbol of Kendrew's kingdom, but rather an industrial mark. It seemed to be the symbol of the industry that had produced those APCs, and evidently it represented some new company set up somewhere.

Joy's words implied something more sinister, however, and that peaked his interest. “Yes. What about that?"

“Griagas did not proclaim himself king just by virtue of his own physical strength. He somehow secured an agreement with this RA-thing, because one day he came back from patrol accompanied by a whole lot of vehicles, while many more entered into Kendrew and drove to the bridges leading to the fortress." The officer explained, looking meekly up at the far greater and stronger male. “At first we just closed down the fortresses and shut him out. We were well supplied and could ride out any attempt of siege… but in the following days, more and more troops and tanks and trucks carrying advanced weaponry and even literal gold kept arriving. Griagas demonstrated that he had powerful friends in high places, and that display started to convince more and more soldiers that, perhaps, serving a new king was not such a bad idea."

“He paid you all in gold. Bought your loyalty with treasure." Athena coldly remarked, glaring down at him with distaste.

“He… he did." The warrior admitted, bowing his head in shame, or more likely in fear of how Killer would take the news of that betrayal. “He made us rich, and promised a new king of kingdom in which we would all get far greater privileges and richest than under the traditional law. He proved both his power and his generosity, while our calls for help to Kesteven went unanswered: there were no troops that could be spared from other tasks and sent in our aid. That was the last straw for many… and the many became the totality when we were offered even more advantageous terms."

“Why has my father not intervened…?" Killer muttered, posing the question more to himself than to anyone else, but Athena made a little bit of a grimace and then answered, warning: “Whatever the RA is, and wherever it is based, it has been incredibly active in the last few years. Garrisons have been overwhelmed or corrupted in multiple regions, and ambitious warriors had been turned into kinglets in exchange for their loyalty to the RA mark. New kingdoms have crept up on Kesteven's borders from all sides, all of them propped up by RA weapons and gold… and some of the most powerful bloodlines of the east have joined in. King Seth has been trying to stem the tide and bring order back into the north, but the fire spread rapidly, and a whole lot of new kingdoms have sprouted up almost overnight, and in the same short timeframe they have become considerable military powers."

Killer made a grimace, again reflecting that he really had been away from home for too long. He had thought that the North would be incorruptible and immutable as long as his father was on the throne, but the modern world was more complex than ever, and new forces conspired to spread corruption and greed even in the lands he had always thought healthy and full of virtue.

The bitter truth was that the ways of Northern honor were wonderful for someone like Killer, an Alpha with the strength to dominate the rest of society and to secure for himself all pleasures and honors… but for the lower castes, life was primarily about what they could never dream to have and experience. Now that technology offered counters to the raw strength and talent of the best warriors, honor alone was not enough anymore. Something like the RA, which almost like a miracle raining down from the Heavens promised easy money, females and power to those who had little of either, could rapidly corrupt a whole lot of low-caste northerners who languished at the bottom of the pyramid, dreaming of the privileges enjoyed by the strongest warriors.

And the kings of the East, of course, had joined right in. Probably they funded the RA itself, since their thrones were awash with money coming from the lucrative selling of oil to the southerners. Technology needed oil, and several tiger kings of the East had preferred to betray their own race rather than stay poor. The East and in particular the peninsula to the south-east was hot and hostile, much of it covered in deserts of scorching sand that for centuries had given their inhabitants nothing but misery and suffering. The eastern kings had hated and battled the northern and western bloodlines for centuries, trying to secure more fertile and welcoming territories… and the bitter hate between the royal families dragged on since those ancient times. The discovery of oil had turned the eastern kings into the richest men in the world… and that money could cause a whole lot of trouble. The RA was most likely a product of all that treasure being used to reawaken the wars of the past.

“The Kestevenian model of peace and prosperity for the Northlands is under attack, Lord Killer." Joy quietly summarized, and Killer gave a tiny, silent nod. Of course, very few news were broadcasted out of the Northlands, and he had been ashamed enough of himself to not even try to stay in touch with his family. He had selfishly thought of nothing but his amusement and pleasures for seven years, and had done so in such a dishonorable, needlessly destructive way that his father hadn't even considered the option of calling him back to lead the army once more against the enemies of Kesteven, even though a new storm was clearly gathering, probably even more terrible than Dark's one.

That awareness filled him with bitterness, but he was at least honest enough to recognize that he could only blame himself. He had left Kesteven. He had looked away. He had rampaged like a divine scourge over the world, causing nothing but grief and embarrassment for his family.

“For now, Griagas has been content with squeezing the very life out of these lands to fund his ever-growing army and his ever expanding castle. He has taxed and robbed the lower castes and has restored slavery for the non-tigers." Athena bitterly remarked, before pointing a finger at the wolf barman, who was quietly attempting to clean up around the devastated counter, picking up piles of shattered glass bottles. “Not a single one of the soldiers who were inside this place would have paid him a thing. He is supposed to work for free for tigers. Only non-tigers must pay. Do you think it is fair…? Do you think it is a system that can last? Behind the façade of order and cleanliness, Kendrew is a land of utter misery. Slaves and low-caste tigers work day and night either to build weapons, or to expand Griagas's castle on the island-fortress. That's all this kingdom cares about, these days."

“After living most of our lives under the fair laws that your father had shaped and gotten into place across most of the Northlands, we have been shoved into an abyss, right back into a past that we had hoped would never return. This place used to be happy! Tigers and non-tigers used to get along nicely enough… now, soldiers stand at every corner every minute of the day and night, because fear and repression are needed to keep the slaves going. The slaves must keep up working, and must produce more weapons. Always more."

“And you are worried about what Griagas will do will all those weapons once they are ready." Killer calmly completed, making a grimace as he looked down at the officer prostrated between his legs, muttering: “Have you ever stopped to think of it yourself…? Surely you must realize that all of this is meant to enable a new war against Kesteven. Is that what you want, you maggot…?"

“N-no, your highness. I don't want that, I swear. I… I just… obey orders. I… I could not revolt on my own, could I…?" The officer whimpered, but Killer snorted in contempt and squeezed the two girls closer, mercilessly remarking: “If no one ever tries to stop this nightmare for fear of how the others will react, things continue degenerating. You are cowardly waiting for someone else to do the first move… and all other cowards like you are doing exactly the same thing. Everyone waits. Nobody acts. Nobody except these ladies: they have shown more brains and more courage than all of you maggots put together."

“I apologize, sir. No excuses, sir… I… beg your forgiveness, your majesty." The warrior whimpered, looking up at the titan in pure horror and rapidly going back to dragging his tongue over the steel toes of Killer's heavy combat boot, licking blood and gore and dirt off it and struggling to polish the metal with his saliva.

Killer snorted in contempt at that, and only pushed the warrior back by settling one spiked sole right on his features, crushing him down against the floor and making him cry out in terror… but the huge liger only lazily stretched his leg, with no intention of killing him, and he snickered in entertainment in front of his terror, while Athena poured him a glass of liquor. Joy, leaving behind all hesitations, curled up on the sofa at his side and rested her head on his powerful abs, her hands exploring his hulking musculature and wandering down towards the savagely stretched-out waistband of his pants. The huge male winked at her as he allowed his legs to spread a bit wider, that huge, fat bulge at his groin throbbing visibly as fabric clenched tightly over massive member, squeezing into it so tightly it would be painful for a lesser male. The size of his member was so taxing that the fly of his jeans had sunk low down the curve of the tucked-away member, so that a mere, yet mind-blowing fraction of the base of his cock bulged right out of the tight confines of the denim, putting on shameless display the enormous proportions of his cock and several thick, bulging veins.

“Griagas is not meant to be a king, and he should not be one. He will lead us all to disaster… and he will cause further regression in our land, in our society… He's already undone all the good that Seth had done for us all." Athena quietly said, not afraid to voice her “betrayal", and she leaned over the spectacular front of Killer's body to look straight up into his eyes as she almost purred: “We need a real king, a real Alpha who doesn't need to terrorize people into submission with a vast army. We need an Alpha who commands awe, fear and worship with his mere presence…"

He leaned back into the sofa, grinning and allowing her to tug at the waistband of his jeans, revealing a bit more of that thick forest of crotch hair, a few inches more of massive godshaft-base as he chuckled quietly as his eyes roamed along her beautiful body and the large, firm breasts that now ground shamelessly into the front of his hulking body.

“You want me to stay, and take the throne away from Griagas. That would be easy…" Killer easily replied, leisurely rolling his massive shoulders as he reached down to seize the two girls by their firm, perfect buttocks, and his muscles flexed a tiny bit, bulging with power. It was enough to cause his fly to almost explode open, his overstretched, bulging boxers peeking up into the air as the powerful stench of his musk filled the room. His hand continued upwards carelessly, idly traveling up Athena's backside as his sapphire eyes locked on his prey, smiling at the splendid tigress, teasing her, challenging her to show him just what she could do and how much she really wanted him. “But I'm fickle, and I get bored easily. I always need fresh meat, and new things to conquer and take. I've wandered for years without calling a single place home for too long… and you know what? It is fun. Why should I change that?"

“You are stronger, and richer, and more feared and famous than any king, indeed… Griagas's kingdom is nothing compared to the awe and terror you've spread across the world…" Athena admitted in a whisper, before sensually sliding herself down his side, caressing his powerful leg as she descended from the sofa and shamelessly crouched right between his legs, eyes gleaming as she looked up at him from under the table as she swayed her hips widely and showed off her splendid, vast cleavage, before she gripped into his legs and nuzzled the massive bulge, loudly sniffing up his rich, masculine musk. “Even your smell… even your big, sweaty balls stench is big. Fills the fucking room in one moment! So strong… so good… you are more than Griagas and any other king will ever be. Asking you to take his place is almost like asking you to pull back your punches, to conform to rules and traditions meant for kings who have but a fraction of your strength…"

“Griagas's kingdom is nowhere near large and rich enough to serve you properly, but it can be a start… the start of something greater. An empire vaster and more glorious than anything that came before it in history." Joy added, her voice turning almost in a purr as she ground quietly into his side and kissed the side of his neck, her hands stroking slowly and reverently down his broad chest and his terrifying, glorious arm. Athena, more bold still, dragged her lips over his jeans and the exposed bit of his boxers, already able to taste his strong flesh and feel the thick, bulging veins even across the fabric, and she teasingly took the fly of his jeans between her teeth to peel them further off the massive bulge, before running one hand over his mighty abs, then down into the curly, thick hair of his crotch, tugging at it and taking a thick bang of pubes between her lips, suckling up the light sheen of sweat there and letting out a moan of pleasure.

The soldiers still in the pub stared at the scene with expressions of hunger, envy, shock and awe that made Killer grin in entertainment: he knew those expressions well, but they never ceased to amuse, and they were part of why he liked so much to have a public when he enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh.

Shame? He didn't really know the meaning of that word, when it came to sex. After all, he was a hulking, perfect sculpture, a godlike figure blessed not just with muscles and terrifying strength, but also with such godly virility to result completely overwhelming to witness. Only a few days back, he would have been followed around by a bunch of literal cuckold husbands who had not just lost their wives and daughters to him but had turned into his camera-bitches, his slaves. They would have quickly set up the cameras and connection and streamed his latest conquests live on the internet for huge crowds of fans, groupies and paypigs and cuckolds. He had sent them back when he had decided to cross the frontier and head back into the Northlands, however. Here, at home, he felt somewhat more modest. Somehow, it seemed wrong to bring such money-making practices even up in the Northlands. Perhaps, if he was more honest to himself, it had only been due to the fact that the little cucks slowed him down, and being southerners they were too small, frail and weak to reflect well on him. In the Northlands, everything was bigger, and the slaves needed to be proper hunks to truly show off the power of their master. In the south, people gawked at his slaves because they were famous men, once rich and powerful: generals of Ire's army, the Chief of Staff of Ire's army in person, and big heads of industry… But in the north, even the handsome Chief of Staff of Ire's army would not have impressed the people on the street: the tigers were less interested in riches and status, and more in physical, personal prowess. Even the generals, as fit as they were, would not have impressed the last of the North's warriors. He needed new meat, if he was to do things properly.

“You can become a legend… no, you already are one. But you can become THE Legend of the Northlands." Joy offered, smiling suggestively and lazily tugging at the stretched-out waistband of his boxers, looking up at him expectantly, her eyes made even more beautiful by perfectly applied mascara lining them.

Killer did not reply, and he tried not to display the confusion of emotions that rumbled within him. He still wasn't sure about what he really wanted, and while part of him still craved to become a king, another, lazier and more hedonistic part of him countered that he already was a king and then some. For seven years he had lorded over most of the world, terrorizing, dominating, pillaging, conquering, and taking everything and everyone he pleased. He had enjoyed all the pleasures without any of the responsibilities. Becoming king would curtail his freedom, not enhance it: the one thing he was not going to do was to become a bad king. With the example and teachings of his father written in fire into his very soul, he was determined to be a good leader for his people, if the day came. But was this the right time…?

He leaned back in his seat, allowing that humongous, bulging groin to sink forwards past the edge of the seat, massive boulders of his barely-covered balls nearly tearing the cloth of the incredibly-stretched underwear, huge and heavy pillows that he silently, teasingly invited Athena to rest herself against as he allowed his legs to spread open invitingly.

“I already was a legend here in the North, but our people can also forget pretty quickly, as this little joke of a brawl proves." Killer calmly replied, and the two females were silent for a little moment, unsure of what to say in answer to that. It was true, wasn't it…? In just seven years or so, people had almost stopped caring about General Wyvern, the hero, the savior. An ambitious little bastard like Randall had literally used “savior" as a provocation, an insult.

“The North needs its Legends to keep on delivering." Athena finally admitted, even as she grabbed her huge breasts and pushed them together for him, showing off how they bulged out of her shirt. “We are a people of warriors, of conquerors and heroes. In the south, winning a war is enough to be remembered forever… but even though you won several, you will not last forever in memory here if you don't drive the point home again, and again, and again…"

“I'm not so sure I care about that." Killer easily replied, but part of him admittedly was amazed and irritated to discover that in just seven years his image had faded so much. The war against Dark had turned him into the savior not just of Kesteven but of the Northlands whole, and yet all that seemed to already have no residual importance. As General “Wyvern", a nickname that came from the legendary sword that was passed down through the successive generations of Huxleys, he had been celebrated as an invincible conqueror and a living war machine, and his many victories had given him worldwide fame. Now, all those achievements seemed to have been almost forgotten, eclipsed by contempt at its years of rampages and dissolution in the South. His crimes, his hedonism and his repeated working as mercenary into other special forces of the world seemed to truly have destroyed the respect the Northlands had shown to him. They did not just blame him for his crimes… they even pretended his past had never happened. “I was a Legend once, but I wasn't happy… I could not find satisfaction. I don't think I ever wanted to be a legend, anyway… I'm just a warrior. I fight for a living. I fight because I like to. I… fight for what I think is right."

Not anymore… the voice of his conscience reprimanded, but he did his best to not show the shame he felt.

“Are you sure you don't care…?" Joy gently insisted, her voice passionate and her eyes glinting with a sort of teasing adoration. “People like Griagas carve kingdoms for themselves using someone else's weapons to climb their way to fame, while your legend fades away…? You are far stronger, greater, better than Griagas and all other kinglets could ever be. Yet they are the ones who get venerated and remembered… even though you could topple all of their thrones without breaking a sweat. Isn't it unfair?"

Killer did not reply. He was, after all, a weird product of contrasting thoughts and emotions. He was a total exhibitionist when it came to sex and strength, but he was otherwise surprisingly humble and didn't like to go around actively bragging or being loud just for the sake of it. He hated loud, obnoxious arrogance, even though he was guilty of more than his own share of arrogance at the same time.

He liked the fact that people gawked at his hulking, spectacular body but at the same time he hadn't ever really obsessed about fame per se. But the two Forbidden women knew their trade and their talents, and they were hitting him in all the right spots, in all the right ways to get him wondering.

He was their only hope of salvation from a king that they despised and that was probably going to drag the whole kingdom into a disastrous war… but their passion was sincere. It was not just about them needing his help. They really cared about him, and really thought he could and should ascend and shine above the others. The light in their eyes was unmistakable, and sincere. Their flattery was also sincere: they thought every single word they offered. They meant it.

“You can remind everyone that you are the boss… you only need to make your decision, and start reminding kinglets like Griagas who has the real power." Athena urged, before smirking in entertainment as she idly tossed a gaze over her shoulder as the retching, crying officer huddled up by Killer's feet and still busy trying to tongue-polish his heavy boots. She grinned in evil amusement when the warrior meekly looked up at her, blushing furiously and looking humiliated and desperate as he did his best not to vomit the thick gunk of gore and remains and dirt. “But there is one big part of your legend which nobody has forgotten… look at the tears on these little boys' faces! They know how utterly useless and pathetic they are compared to your glorious mega-cock…"

She grinned sharkishly and jerked her head in the direction of all the soldiers who, standing in the middle of the pub, were staring in awe at Killer's obscene bulge as the two girls worshipfully stroked over the bulging, stretched-out pants. “Watch and weep, you sissy boys…" Athena exclaimed, while tugging at his boxers, for some reason loving the sight of more thick pubes, luscious and sturdy and… big. Even the hair on his crotch was bigger and better and stronger than on other males. It was like steel wire, so tough and musky as she yanked on the thick bangs almost viciously.

He rumbled in entertainment at the sight of her, that heady, excited girl suckling the manna of his sweat from his coarse pubes before he chuckled as he idly pushed his hand through her hair, digging his large, strong fingers gently into her scalp as she nuzzled hungrily down into his groin and delighted in the way his enormous shaft gave a powerful throb full of eager vigor. The enormous liger grinned as he idly leaned further back and undid his heavy belt and popped open the fly of his jeans, letting the two women tug the denims down for him, along with the belt and the three heavy swords hanging from it. When the weapons clanged on the floor, the soldiers in the pub merely shivered a little. None of them thought, even for a second, that he might somehow be “unarmed" and “vulnerable" now. He hadn't even needed to touch his swords in the fight, and he was more than capable to crush them all into paste without drawing one out of its sheath. Besides, he had given them the proof that he was actually also extremely fast in his movements, so much so that he would be able to pick up his swords before any of them could do anything.

Killer smirked, knowing exactly what was going on in their heads, and grinning as, as soon as he undid the last button, his fly almost exploded open, his overstretched, bulging boxers peeking up into the air as the powerful stench of his musk filled the room. He allowed them to pull his jeans down and shamelessly kicked them off, smirking as he literally heard the officer on the floor gulping in shock at the monstrous size of not just the bulge in his boxers… but the tremendous immensity of the black shaft that, snaking down one of his legs, hung down out of the bottom of his boxers, down past his knees. Killer smirked a little, and idly teased: “Guess it is a comparison shocking enough that forgetting is impossible…"

She smirked at his words, leaning forwards to drape her huge breasts over the exposed length of thick, massive black shaft pushing out of his worn-out boxers, and teasingly whispered: “Oh, stud… you like to take women away from their weak loser-boys, don't you…? If not for the kingdom, do it for us… for all the girls that Griagas does not deserve to have. You scourge of lesser males… how many girls have you taken away from their dads, and boyfriends, and husbands…?"

“Too many to count." Killer amusedly replied, and it was no exaggeration. He had lost count years earlier.

“This beat gives nightmares to all daddies and hubbies..." She purred, helping him out of his jeans and tossing the heavy cloth away, gripping into his bulge with both hands and squeezing into the incredibly solid, thick, heavy shaft, moving one hand ahead of the other, and counting… “Four, five, six hands and counting… Yeah, I'd take a picture, but it would never fit in the frame!"

He did enjoy their flattery... and more than that, the show they tried to put on, the way their strong bodies flexed against him and begged him to use them as he pleased, while they offered him their homeland. Not that they were truly in a position to give it up, of course… but it was still exciting.

“Will you let us witness the legendary glory of your cock…? Will you show these puny boys how the real Alpha is built…?" Joy half-begged and half-teased, her eyes glowing as she found a surprising amount of courage to boldly grip the strained, worn-out waistband of his boxers… and Killer grinned and hooked his thumbs into his underwear, easily replying: “Of course, little girl… the real question is whether you can handle such a display…"

“Probably no." Athena hungrily admitted, her breath coming down in a hiss from her mouth as she sat back on her haunches, staring up at him with awe and expectations, her eyes fixed on that gigantic bulge. All males in the room were suddenly stiff, almost frozen in place as they pretended to look out of the windows, as they stood guard against any attempt of their comrades outside to break in… but Killer and the girls traded a cruel smirk as the boys constantly snaked gazes in the direction of the titan, nervously staring at that godbeast of a cock that was one of the world's wonders, unmatched and powerful, immense and responsible of the ruination of literal millions of females all over the world.

Killer idly pushed his boxers down, and he grinned as a few more inches were revealed, hypnotizing some of the soldiers and leaving them gaping in shock before that shaft gave a powerful flex, and instead of his underwear sliding down those muscular hips, that thick, massive shaft bulged and simply tore his boxers into shreds of cloth that his thumbs carelessly flicked away.

That mammoth member was revealed in all its glory: that impossible length, now free, swung heavily downwards, so heavy and enormous that they all heard it, hanging over massive, pendulous balls that, massive as the bulge they had made in his pants and boxers had looked, were even more astoundingly enormous now that they had been revealed; likewise, his flaccid cock had been tremendous, and yet when it hung loose, it was well past his knees, so far past that the officer tending to his feet retreated with a squeak of fear as that monstrous, godlike cock swung down and barely missed smacking into his head. The monstrous member nearly draped on the floor, its huge, flared head all but touching wetly into the wooden planks when he shifted ever so slightly in the seat.

That godlike girth throbbed with power, the huge, heavy foreskin sliding back slightly from the fat tip of his monstrous cockhead, thicker around than the eager Joy's waist, covered in veins that bulged like metallic cables. The stench of that goliath cock was increased a hundredfold with it loosed to the air, the air around the heavy, hair y balls of the liger seeming to steam and sizzle with the heat and musk that wafted off them. Athena, who was right in front of him, on her knees like he was a god, let out a little gasp of surprise as that huge cock flexed with amazing strength and mass and just smashed its way through the helpless fabric, ripping it to shreds and sending part of the elastic waistband crashing right into her cleavage as his balls dropped audibly, ponderously down past the edge of the seat, hanging low and enormous and sweaty, before she instinctively leaned back, falling on her perfect ass as the tremendous shaft swung heavily down, almost smacking into the floor as it hung down from the sofa, throbbing with power as some of that heavy foreskin rolled back from the monstrous cockhead as she reached forwards with a little sound of awe, cupping that fat tip in her hands as she breathed: “I planned to say that this is how a real king is built… but that would be reductive. This is how a God is built…"

The black-fleshed behemoth thrummed as it bulged, nearly pressing into the tigress's nose as Killer leaned comfortably back in the sofa and he winked down at the Forbidden female and teased: “Maybe you can try and lift that beast, we'll see just how strong you really are."

The heat and the brutal force of his virile stench were intoxicating, almost causing her eyes to water as she let her tongue loll out, looking up at him and pretending – but was it a pretense? There was no need to feign awe in front of him, he inspired true wonder! – to drool in front of that enormous thing. “Holy shit, god!" She commented, before grinning widely as she teasingly asked: “When you take a piss in a public urinal, the boys right next to you must feel like their life is over, huh…?"

Joy, with her eyes and mouth open wide in front of that monstrous behemoth of a cock, revealed a bit of the devil inside her as, losing the shyness that she had displayed at first, she smirked at the stunned, silent soldiers in the room and taunted: “Let's ask these boys how they feel… hey, you babies! How do you feel, while this king swings more cock than all of you combined…? Must be tough to be in the presence of a god!"

The soldiers did not reply, but the shock on their faces was evident, and the way they stared at the scene in a mix of awe and envy and fear made Killer grin as he idly played with Joy's hair while the girl laughed, stinging all those proud warriors into their deepest pride, belittling them as she shamelessly leaned down over the giant's abs and began to slobber on the base of his immense cock.

Athena spun slowly and sensually around to face the shocked boys at well, first of all the stunned, trembling officer huddled up between Killer's feet.

“Watch, you puny joke of a male…" Athena mocked, while reverently grasping the monstrous black cock, just under the massive, scary, equine flare, lined with fat, downwards curved barbs of moat that felt as solid as iron. She stroked the gigantic cock with slow adoration, and the great shaft throbbed slowly, powerfully, great veins bulging across his leviathan cock, massive member thickening, and yet far from hardening: that flaccid beast simply seemed to be expanding, like it was still fully revealing itself, like that endless length of meat was still unfurling steadily from his form. At first it had almost touched the floor… now it already snaked gloriously over it, the gigantic flare facing the shocked, humiliated officer like the oversized hood of a giant cobra, like it was a beast of myth, like the vast cock maw was about to open wide and devour him whole.

Athena tried to push up the enormous cockhead, and the sheer weight of that thing caused her to grunt, biceps bulging as she attempted to heft that great mass, the shaft still mostly flaccid but already so hard and solid that it refused to bend for her. “Holy SHIT." She exclaimed again, grinning almost wildly. “Now I can really see why the southerners are terrorized that you might truly breed their races out of existence…"

Killer smirked as the two females kissed and licked his immense shaft, slobbering loudly and blowing bubbles in their drool as they made a display of watering mouths for his incredible hypervirility, while gripped helplessly into his massive cockhead, vainly trying to heft that lazily growing monster. He watched their struggle to heft that humongous length of meat for a few moments, drinking a glass of liquor and savoring that spectacle and the burning lust in their beautiful eyes as they looked adoringly up at him. Even with all their gym time, their muscles weren't strong enough to do more than make his cock sway slightly... and that was more from his own idle shifting than anything else., and the momentum that great swinging girth built up as it moved back and forth. He slid a hand down, idly rubbing a finger across his own humongous length, then slipping his hand under it as they struggled to lift that massive member, helping Athena heft it so that great snake could rest across her body.

She sat down on the floor, between his mighty legs, and sneaked behind the humongous cock, keeping it up as best she could with both of her hands and then leaning back against his monstrous balls, while letting his giant cock droop over one shoulder, down over one breast, which was crushed painfully beneath that mass, and down, down, down all the way along her torso. “Let's send a few images to our dear king Griagas, so he knows who's got the real power…" She said, while extending her arm ahead as far as she could to snap a photo, in the vain attempt to fit as much of that humongous cock as she could into the frame, leaning her face against it and winking into the camera. “I want the other girls back in Kendrew to know what is coming their way, so they can… prepare…"

“Not that any degree of preparation can ever be enough to deal with this beast…" Joy breathed, drool leaking out of her mouth and hanging in strings and ropes connected to the side of his monstrous black shaft.

He grinned as Athena sat back against his enormous balls, as the weight of his humongous member squished her back into that heavy sac and she struggled to take a few quick selfies before that hulking liger rumbled as he rolled his head on his shoulders, causing his great muscles to bulge with barely contained power and letting his legs close a little around the tigress as he sat up slightly, carelessly allowing that humongous member to crush down against her with a bit more weight. “I like the idea, but let's do it properly…" He reached down and snatched the phone from her, holding it up above his head as he gazed up with entertainment, snapping a few quick shots that captured a beautiful bird's eye view of his predatory grin, and the prey caught in the clench of his massive member and hefty orbs. Joy leaned in and hugged the monstrous shaft, adding a useful additional unit of measurement by showing how her arms were dwarfed by that giant anaconda of dark meat, and he rumbled in entertainment as both maidens gave the finger to the camera. He snapped a few images, then handed back the phone to her so she could continue taking selfies, while he idly made sure to snap a few images with his own phone.

“You are admittedly making it interesting for me, girls…" Killer teasingly said, smirking as he idly caressed Athena's head, stroking almost tenderly through her hair before he dug his fingers into her scalp, rumbling low in his throat in amusement as her hands worked along his massive member, as her muzzle greedily ground down against him, as she inhaled his potent musk like it was the last breath she would ever steal. “And it's not like I'd be hard pressed to own all the girls of Kendrew as much as I own you two now. I could ruin every last cunt in the region and fill this country up with my bastards, and Griagas would only be able to kiss my ass and thank me, if I allowed him such an honor… But it will take something more to convince me that it is a prize worth taking."

There was something wrong, and evil, and yet delicious in hearing him talk about the rest of king Griagas's harem, and even of all other girls in Kendrew, and of how he could easily own them all, use them all, ruin them all, and nobody would be able to do a thing. It was scary and arousing and addicting because it was true, wasn't it…? He had been doing exactly that for the last seven years, precipitating entire countries into ruin and stupor. Even without getting to those grandiose and scary excesses, hell, who would turn down that hulk of a male, and that beast of a cock, and that amazing stench of maleness that really made air as thick and hot and rich as steak...? Athena tried to think of all other girls she knew, but the answer was always the same. Fuck, no. Not even for a minute. There was just something so commanding in his incredible size, and strength… in the fact that he and other men didn't even seem to belong to the same gender at all. If Killer was a male, Griagas couldn't also be one: there was just no comparison. The hulking liger wasn't just “bigger", but a complete world apart. It wasn't even a comparison between an adult stud and a newborn baby. The gap was bigger than that. Ten times worse. As much as she tried, she couldn't come up with a better description: Killer was a god, her self-proclaimed king was nothing but a helpless mortal. That was the sheer immensity of the difference… and by “her king" she could really mean all other boys out there. A pretty thing like her had seen plenty of boys, and the comparisons were all ludicrous. A few inches against a landslide of feet. Mortals and god, that was all.

“We are not worthy…" Athena admitted, closing her eyes and bowing her head as if to apologize, but then she hugged the monstrous girth of his cock and ground teasingly into it, pushing against the enormous shaft with all of her strength, loving it and at the same time trying to keep it from crushing her against his massive, solid balls. They were like hot boulders behind her, unmoving, undenting, churning inside with heat and with endless reserves of thick cum. She had seen some of his videos – many, in fact – and his money shots had been another shocking, intoxicating sight that was seared in fire in her mind. He pumped out gallons, literal gallons of the stuff. Many gallons.

She eagerly snapped her selfies, all the while dragging her tongue along the enormous python of obsidian meat, slobbering over it, polishing it with her saliva as she pushed her huge breasts against it… and against it, her large breasts didn't really seem huge at all. She spat on the flank of the monstrous member, then eagerly smeared her drool with her hand, but the giant godcock was so massive that she ran dry after covering just a small, tiny area, and even with Joy's help she couldn't quite polish that enormous beast… “Fuck… this is just unbelievable…" She spat again, and again, and again, in the attempt of slicking up and polishing that humongous mass of dark meat, but it was just too huge, and she shivered as she whispered: “We are just little mortal girls, and you are a hulking god… we can never be enough, but we will all do everything we can, and give you everything we have, in exchange for your generosity, for your help… for conquering us all and crushing our king out of existence..."

She couldn't quite admire his hulking musculature from her position between his legs, but the little she could see was astounding in itself, and she whistled when he extended his arm again to snap another photo. His arm was huge, the power in it unbelievable, the bicep colossal. She tried to reach up to kiss it, but then she grunted as he shifted and his colossal cock pinned her down like a gnat, crushing the air out of her lungs even as she flexed her own strong form, pushing against it to keep her chest from caving inwards under that enormous burden. “Holy shit, Master… this beast is heavy like hell…!" She grunted, but she resisted, drooling as she looked up to admire his arm extended in the air as he snapped his own photos, of her body buried under that beast of a godcock.

That bicep was enormous, even relaxed like that, and she couldn't help but think again and again of how he had punched the head of one of the corporals right into crimson mist, and with the very same blow pierced through the armoured flank of an APC. She was horribly aroused by the thought of how easily that enormous fist could smash a head like a rotten tomato, and she found herself imagining that big titan surrounded by powerless cops that he punched into mush, one by one… and somehow, that image made her moan instead of causing her horror. She imagined him fucking the queen in her bed… she imagined king Griagas coming into the room, barking empty threats… and she imagined that invincible arm lazily slapping the king into pieces, one-shotting him like he was a Jenga tower. It was horrendous to think of such a thing, and yet it made her groan in sick wonder. What hope did a mortal have of ever surviving such a godlike hit…?

“T-take all the photos you want, daddy…" She wheezed, before teasingly showing him her arm. At first he didn't understand why, but then she reached up with her other hand and undid her large bracelet, letting it fall away and revealing a small KO, Killer Owned, tattoo on her wrist. “You might want this tattoo to show, though!" She playfully remarked, even though she could barely breathe due to the monstrous weight of his flaccid godcock.

“Oh, but you are a fan, then…" Killer commented, smirking in entertainment and gently massaging her scalp with his huge hand as she gazed up at him and put a grin on her features as she hugged around the immense cock, whispering: “Of course I am… I'm kind of shy around tattoos, so I only got a small one. But I'll get a better one now, I promise… And I won't hide it. I keep it under wrap because Griagas gets… even more unpleasant than usual, if he comes across one of these marks."

“I had to let my bush grow back to hide mine…" Joy whispered into his hear, and Killer snorted in amusement at the little girl's excitement, licking his lips idly as his massive, monstrous shaft flexed, his gargantuan godcock pulsing with omnipotent power even in its flaccid state.

“Good girls…" Killer teased, before catching Athena by the scalp and letting her face swing down to slam against his wetted cock, grinding her against the sweaty, orgasm-stained base of his behemoth godcock as he rumbled: “Now get to work, and show me how you plan to keep my attention."

He ground her face roughly against that humongous black shaft, then slowly crushed her deeper, past the leviathan, into massive, armored, hefty balls. He pushed her head into the hairy forest of his crotch, roughly forcing her face into the sweaty, musky abyss between testicle and leg, grinning down at her as he growled: “I want to feel every inch of you worshiping my cock, girls; I want to see what kind of gratitude I can expect…"

He roughly forced her head deeper as he idly rocked his hips, massive girth grinding forwards against her with such force it threatened to crush her ribs, huge, fat cockhead dragging against the ground as it swayed ominously, like a grim weight; his pendulous balls swung forwards, throbbing with heat and desire, as a great, thick glob of pre slowly dripped from the head of his cock, a gallon-sized ball of hyperpotent, hyperfertile ooze that splattered from his cockhead to the floor below, droplets pattering over the tigress's feet and legs as the hulking male rumbled in low, dark desire.

She slobbered and slurped on them, savoring his thick, rich sweat, her muzzle digging into the thick, wrinkled flesh of those titanic orbs and almost vanishing into them before her face was crushed into that abyssal cleft between those hanging moons and the mighty, growing, arrogant cock that slammed down on her with tremendous force, causing her ribs to creak, her bones vibrating under the impact as she instinctively shrunk under the punishing blows of his immense shaft idly, carelessly swinging down into her. Athena hungrily choked on the stench she was buried in: his scent there was astoundingly potent, rich and thick and heady beyond description, sweaty and strong and so overwhelmingly masculine. It made her whole body shudder with ecstasy and need and recognition of her true place in the world as her whole form flexed, her muscles bulging, her hips bucking, her hungry sex clenching as she helplessly squirted several volleys of her nectar, eyes open wide and staring at that monstrous cockhead… just as the goliath member gave a hungry throb full of power and erupted out a colossal glob of thick precum, a heavy globe of that thick, potent stuff exploding forwards and shooting across the room, splashing loudly on the floor in a long, twisted, continuous river of dark gunk, just a drop to him and yet literal gallons of hyperpotent essence, more plentiful and more powerful than the life-time production of a hundred men put together, a monstrous load of hypervirile, tar-thick sludge, that made her very womb clench helplessly, her poor eggs quite literally trembling as if aware of what that mighty gunk could do to them. She could only stare up at him with wonder and awe, trembling as she kneaded his immense, omnipotent godflesh, shaking with lust under his absolute, ultimate power.

And Joy gazed up at him just as hungrily, feeling that incredible weight bearing down on her as she leaned over and half-buried herself between leg and cock, trembling and flexing beneath his might as she used all her strength just to hold, to grasp, to work that mighty immense godcock. She licked and slurped at it, trembling in awe as she touched him, stroked him, worked him, gazing up at him hungrily out from under his absolute godhood as she inhaled his absolute strength, his masculinity filling her mind with nothing but need for him.

The other people in the room could only stare in awe at that show, and at the meteor of hyperpotent masculine gunk, full of gigantic hypersperms, that created a thick river through the room. The stunned silence from them was almost complete, and that made the slobbering, slurping sounds coming from the two females seem all the louder and even more obscene than they already where.

The wolf owner of the pub, who was no longer very young and had a good enough knowledge of the world and of people, gathered all of his courage and hesitatingly, uncertainly walked back across the room to get to Killer's table, trying hard to keep his limbs from trembling. Was he trying to save his pub from the further destruction that would undoubtedly come from Killer starting to drive that omnipotent cock into those girls…? Was he just overwhelmed by the show and desperate for it to shift away from right in front of his eyes…? He didn't know for sure, and the poor lupine nearly fainted when the huge male's cold sapphire eyes turned on him, regretting immediately having taken that initiative. But it was too late to go back, so he desperately tried to get his throat to produce a sound.

“S-sir, I… can… can I speak, sir? A word?" The lupine asked, and the two tigresses barely rolled one eye each to see what was happening, not even moving their heads up from the glorious, massive shaft they were noisily, slobberingly worshipping, stroking and kissing and pumping the colossal member.

“Speak, doggy. But be quick." Killer gently replied, offering a little smile which only worsened the wolf's terror, as he felt like a mice between the paws of a cruelly playful cat. The wolf swallowed thickly, gathering his courage again even as his eyes couldn't help but follow Killer's huge hands as they shamelessly slid under the dresses of the two beautiful women and groped into their plump, beautiful breasts.

“Well… my k-king… upstairs there are… we have rooms. Comfortable rooms, I… I assure you. I'd be honored to… offer you my best room, so you… can be… comfortable. Yes, comfortable."

“I'm very fine with having a public." Killer playfully reminded, and the wolf's eyes bulged in terror as he trembled, fearing of having irked the giant somehow… but the liger actually laughed, and nodded, before his deep voice boomed: “But yeah, I wouldn't mind the comfort. Lead the way, doggy… and bring the drinks upstairs. And food, as well."

The wolf bowed deeply, almost ludicrously so, then began to pick up the bottles from the table, while Killer looked down at the two females and smiled, saying softly: “Let's go. We are going to continue our little… talk… in a more comfortable setting."

“Can you, Master…?" Athena softly begged, crushed as she was beneath his massive black shaft, unable to get up such was the weight of the monstrous godcock.

“Sure." He indulged, grinning slightly as he easily reached down, lifting that weighty cock off her body and hefting it carefully up past the edge of the table, his eyes glinting with entertainment at the disbelief and awe on the faces of the soldiers all around as he allowed that colossal anaconda of semi-hard flesh to swing down and smack violently on top of the table, knocking over glasses and bottles. It was a sturdy old table made of carved hardwood, yet its legs visibly bent and cracked, nearly splintering apart, and its top cracked loudly and dented under that colossus… and the only reason it didn't break entirely was that the huge male slowly stood up, and already his cock had grown rigid enough to point obscenely outwards from his crotch, a colossal obelisk of mighty meat, curved downwards because of its own monstrous weight.

A collective shiver rattled everyone in the pub, less the two girls who chuckled a little instead, and straightened up without any shame, even though their dresses were half-torn up by his domineering hands and the fabric soaked in their drool and in his thick, masculine essence, so much so that their tops had turned transparent and clung to their breasts like wet shirts.

Killer idly cracked his back as he chivalrously gestured to the girls to pass right ahead of him while he picked up his jeans and the belt with his swords, carelessly shouldering both before he walked around the table, his enormous cock towering in front of him, dragged down by its own monstrous weight, and his great, semi-flaccid girth, that humongous godshaft, throbbed hungrily, arrogantly and lazily at the same time, as if the two splendid females weren't quite enough to truly get him worked up. The fat head of his cock, which widened at the base into an equine-looking flare of monstrous proportions, would have touched the ground easily had the great shaft not been rigid enough already to stay up. It was as fat around as a tree trunk and it swayed majestically with his steps as he walked towards the staircase leading to the rooms upstairs.

The lieutenant that had been licking his boots clean squeaked in terror as he was nearly crushed under one of those huge, metal-reinforced stompers, and Killer idly looked down. He had forgotten the loser was even there. The officer waited on his knees for instructions, and when Killer saw that his boots were more or less clean, he snorted and said: “it'll do, for now. But you have the floor to clean up, now. I've added a whole lot more mess."

The officer looked horrified, but bowed deeply and immediately began to drag his tongue through one scary, ugly footprint red with dried-up blood and gore. He didn't even dare thinking that he might perhaps clean up with a rag while Killer was upstairs and out of view. Disobeying was not an option: Killer's sapphire eyes seemed to read right into his soul, and somehow the unfortunate warrior was convinced that trying to trick him would always result in failure, and even more tremendous punishment.

It was a strange convoy the one that went up the old staircase of wood and stone, which thankfully was large enough to let Killer pass with just some ducking and squeezing past the corner. The wolf led, trembling violently still and causing the glasses and bottles resting on a large tray to jiggle loudly one against the other. The two tigresses followed, walking with all the grace expected from royal maidens, their hips swaying seductively for the enormous male that closed the line. Killer's steps were surprisingly light and stealthy for someone his size, but the staircase still groaned and creaked under his weight, and the same was true of the massive wooden planks that served as the floor of the corridor upstairs. The doors of six rooms opened upon the corridor, and the wolf led them to the far one, at the corner of the building that looked over the town square.

There was a small balcony, overloaded with multiple flowerpots, which had probably been beautiful once, but which now looked mostly moribund. No one had been able to take proper care of them for quite a while, evidently… yet; there were so many pots to make clear that they used to be the pride of the place. The pots left too little space for Killer to step out on the balcony but he walked in that direction nonetheless, dropping his denims and his belt and swords on an armchair at the bottom of the bed before moving the tents out of the way and looking out of the window, down at the situation in the town square. The two APCs that he had toppled were still there, and no one had attempted to recover or right the vehicles. His motorbike was still safe and untouched, as well, and that was mattered the most. There were large groups of soldiers and other APCs all around the square and in the nearby streets, all of them looking nervously towards the pub but making no move. There was no sign of preparations for an assault, and the soldiers inside the pub were holding their ground and, on balance, Killer thought he had scared and impressed them enough to ensure they would put up a fight against their own comrades, if it came to it.

The wolf quietly put down glasses, plates, drinks and food on the table at the feet of the bed, thankful for the fact that Killer was calm and focused on everything but him… and the girls walked slowly around the room, smiling in appreciation. It was no royal apartment, but a comfortable place nonetheless: the bed was pretty huge, and that was a fortune as it meant it was going to be just enough for Killer to be relatively comfortable. There were also a long green couch and a couple of armchairs in front of wooden drawers topped by a television, and there was even a small fireplace, even if obviously there was no fire: the season was warm and not needed. A multitude of soft carpets covered most of the floor, and the room was immersed in a soft half-light, half-darkness that had some romanticism about it. The room was pretty dusty, though, and had clearly been somewhat neglected. Killer had only been around the wolf for that very short period of time, but even that was enough to tell that he was enamored of his job and of the pub he had opened and honed to perfection. That neglect was the result of being suddenly reduced again to the status of slave, forced to work without compensation and effectively forced to lay off the people that had worked for him.

Killer's father had worked hard to put an end to those days of injustice, and Killer had absorbed his ideals and aims. It was horrible to see so many of king Seth's efforts and achievements now undone by this mysterious RA and its puppet kings, and he wanted to do something to fix that. He also genuinely felt for the wolf. He sneaked a gaze in the direction of the lupine, and he almost winced at the sight of the wrinkles and eye bags deforming his features. He looked exhausted, and he had clearly cried a lot in recent times. And that truly did fill Killer with sadness. He might have teasingly called the wolf “doggy", but he actually respected him, and it was painful to witness how he had been forced to give up so many of the things he cared for. Killer was absolutely sure that, in different days, the room would have been absolutely sparkling and the flowers would have been splendid and luscious. And part of him intensely wished to put things right in Kendrew, just to ensure that those days could return.

“D-do you need anything else, your highness…?" The wolf hesitatingly babbled, instinctively backstepping away from Killer's titanic godcock as the huge male turned around, his great shaft flexing and bobbing up and down as the Liger grinned and spread his legs wide for the two helpless females. They did not need him to voice the order: they crawled on their knees between his muscular, powerful legs and kissing his almighty, giga-enormous balls, dragging their tongues each over a mighty orb, before he slowly, silently pulled his tail up. The wolf gasped in a mix of envy and disbelief as the two women, without wasting words and time, dragged their tongues up his musky, sweaty crack and adoringly kissed his ass, leaving the wolf unable to put more than two words in a row.

“These girls will take care of me now, and be my little servants. You can go, doggy…" Killer said, calmly, almost gently, even as he idly reached backwards to seize Athena's and Joy's heads in his huge hands, lazily dominating them as they slurped and slobbered, drooled and suckled, spat and blew bubbles in the warm moisture as they kissed and mouthed the back of his impossible, godlike testicles and his crack, going all the way up to the tight ring of muscles of his asshole. The wolf couldn't help but gasp breathlessly at the sight as the two girls half-threw her head backwards, nuzzling into the huge male's ass and the same time looking invertedly at him, with eyes that glowed with lust and with a taunt, as they deliberately worshipped their new god in the most obscenely messy and loud of ways. The lupine swallowed thickly, blushing furiously and unable to tear his eyes off them, tormented by the awareness that he was never, never going to experience that level of slavish adoration… before Killer half-turned towards him, and he stumbled backwards with a little cry of fear, eyes opening wide as those omnipotent balls swung majestically, ponderously, each one far larger than even his head, each omnipotent orb making his male attributes look like a sick joke of nature, some sort of job that had been started but never progressed. Killer's balls thrummed with power and radiated such omnipotent heat that they made him sweat from across the whole room, and their visible, monstrous weight was such that Killer could have easily crushed him into pulp, like so much as a fly.

And his cock…! Gods, that semi-hard monument of hypervirility was close to three times his height, literally. That humongous, cruel, spiked flare was so immense that the lupine imagined himself crushed into mush under its phenomenal mass. Killer could cock-slap him into literal smithereens if he so desired, and he wasn't even fully hard yet. That monster still grew in front of his teary eyes, monstrous even in comparison to the two tigresses, to the point that the wolf wondered whether they even had a chance to survive being invaded by that dark obelisk of black meat.

Killer did his best not to laugh in front of that shock, and he said softly: “Go, Doggy. If the soldiers downstairs don't behave or refuse to pay for their drinks, call me and I'll slap some sense into their skulls. I trust it won't be necessary, however".

The wolf opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, so surprised that he failed to really reply anything, but when he bowed deeply and scampered backwards to the door, Killer again spoke, saying: “Hey, Doggy. I hope things around here get back the way they should be. I hope you can bring your pub back to the splendor of the good days."

“T-thanks, your highness. Thanks!" The wolf exclaimed, trembling hard and almost breaking down into tears. He hurriedly left the room, fearing that the liger's generosity might suddenly end, but he was truly surprised, and pleased, and amazed. He had not expected such kindness, and certainly hadn't expected a tiger, one of the “master race" to again give him back his rights. It was so beautiful, so moving, to not being considered just meat, just a slave. He had almost forgotten what it was like to be treated with respect. And yes, of course… he called him doggy, and looked down at him still. But that was fair play, all in all. How could Killer not look down at him, when the difference in power between them was the same that separated a gnat from a supernova…?

Killer's sincere kindness did not go unnoticed with the girls, either. As soon as the wolf closed the door and they heard him scampering down the staircase, Joy pulled back from his immense testicle and licked her lips clean of all the drool and slobber, before commenting: “You DO care, my king… you agree with us that even someone as weak as him actually has rights, and dignity."

“I do." Killer admitted, smiling a little for a brief instant, before he warned: “In general terms, I care… and I can get pretty soft with people like doggy. When I take a moment to study a person, it is relatively easy to sympathize with them, in a way or another, and see some worth in everyone. But that very same worth can also end up being just another reason to crush a helpless toy under my foot. Yes, every life has a value and a merit, and rights… and that is part of why I like to destroy lives." Killer paused, and his expression hardened somewhat as he thought back to all the innocent lives he had ruined and destroyed in the last few years, feeling the usual, sick mix of regret and delight, shame and pride. “Even your Randall-idiot had rights, and probably even some merits, some good points about him… he even had friends and family who cared for him. But all his rights and loved ones still could nothing against my toe. Tonight, a family will cry in sorrow… while I get you to suck my cock and kiss my ass. This is power… and I love it."

Athena and Joy were silent for a moment, thinking about his words while they seized his gargantuan testicles in their hands, squeezing, massaging, pulling on that tough, heavy sack as their breath whistled quietly out of their noses as they buried their faces between the monstrous balls and up, up between his muscular buttocks to kiss the black ring of muscle of his asshole, kissing it again and again.

“W-we… we can only try to imagine the temptations that come from being as tremendously strong as you are…" Joy tremblingly admitted, breathing hard as her hand stroked rapturously across his monstrous member, which barely reacted to the familiar touch of eager whores, as if to contemptuously deny that two girls of that beauty were anywhere near enough to satisfy him. Killer leaned back comfortably as the two tigresses loudly mouthed and worshiped him, shivering in delight below him, and Joy continued in a trembling voice: “… you are so much bigger, and stronger, and superior… that we must all look like bugs to you. Unworthy vermin in the shadow of a colossus. The difference is so great that… that we can't really blame you for what you do."

“You say that only because you've never been on the wrong end of my hungers… yet." Killer cautioned, smirking slightly, but Athena kissed one enormous testicle and then stated clearly: “We haven't, but that is not the point. We are KO girls. We have seen plenty of your movies and videos. We know you could snuff us both out of existence with the ease of blowing out a pair of candles. It is scary, yes… but also arousing. Intoxicating. Addictive. Everything else is mundane, disappointing, boring… but the thought of you is enough to give us shivers. Because you are clearly meant to be something greater, something more."

“So, you'd be happy to have me as king…? Even if you had to pay the high price that it entails?" Killer asked, speaking in a mild voice and arching an eyebrow as he gazed down at them as best he could from over his massive shoulder.

“You were born not to be a king, but the king of kings. Too large, too strong, too much for the rest of the world to handle. You are a god amongst us. A giant in a world of miniatures. You already own us… and it's only a matter of time before you decide how to use us all. So, yes… of course! We want you to be our king!" Athena replied, without hesitations, and he licked his lips, breathing a bit harder and faster as he allowed his head to fall back with a rumble of pleasure as the two girls' hands, so soft and small and weak compared to his enormous member, stroked at the base of his shaft, pumping it eagerly until he felt a great pulse of power travel through that heavy, growing tower of flesh, felt an even greater wave of pleasure and heat travel across his hulking muscles and along that obelisk of godlike power.

“We are all yours anyway… toys, meat in your hands… and our kinglet is nothing but a lie that you can dissolve anytime you want… and that's why we beg you… do it now, take what is rightfully yours! Let us call you king, in all and every ways!" Joy urged, panting hotly as the two girls slid around his massive legs and knelled in front of him, on either side, tending to his growing, hardening cock.

He idly flexed, and his body bulged with power, his enormous muscles swelling so much that his skin threatened to snap apart over those steel-hard chords of strength, his hide audibly straining; and that noise was like music to his ears as their four hands and two tongues slid up and down across the thickening, impossible length standing out from his waist, that battering ram of carnal masculine power.

The enormous male leaned back, grinning at their words, at their worship, at their touch, as his testicles swelled, as his immensity jumped up in a display of ferocious vigor and erupted out a thick blast of hot, dark precum which fired across the entire room and smacked into the window, shattering the glass and firing past the balcony, to splatter down into the town square beyond, leaving behind a thick, plentiful streak of glistening, hyper-potent fluid that went from him all the way to not even the parapet, but far beyond it. He rumbled in entertainment at that as the two females gasped in awe and looked at that impossible tower of black flesh burgeoning out from his body, trembling in a mix of need and terror.

He wasn't even fully hard yet, despite all of their worship, but already that monstrosity was literally longer than some of the soldiers downstairs were tall, and even in proportion to that godlike length, it was nothing short of astoundingly thick, a monument of hypervirility, a monstrous godsplitter, a supernatural leviathan with no rivals. Killer growled low in his throat, licking his lips, and his voice alone rattled the walls, sending shivers down the two girls' spines as they felt that heavy foreskin sliding back down the massive, fat, bulbous head of his cock, and they reached up to stroke right beneath that colossal, almost equine flare at the base of the fat head, panting quietly as they gazed at it in awe and watched as the downward-curved barbs swelled even larger and hardened almost murderously. Everything about that cock was about power and fertility. He was excessive, he was overkill. There were so many sperms in his mere precum, and so strong and enormous, that pregnancy was more than assured, yet he continued to blast out even more, and that vast flare was meant to prevent his monstrous, endless cumshots from cascading out of an overfilled cunt. And with how much he produced, he could and had killed by refusing to yank his enormous cock out even as his victims filled up like balloons, bulging until they literally burst apart.

Athena and Joy shivered as they felt his cock throbbing with need, with power, with growing thrills of pleasure as large veins pulsed across its monstrous length, bulging as they fed the beast and allowed the colossus to raise as high as its own apocalyptic weight would allow.

That was terrible, devastating, heavy and thick power. Athena and Joy were seeing it up close and personal for the first time, but they had seen countless movies and knew exactly what that behemoth could do. He made all porn hyperbole true, and then some. He really destroyed pussies and really devastated assholes. It truly could not possibly fit into a girl. It truly could crush people like they were nothing but annoying bugs.

It could easily kill even Athena and Joy if he tried to ram that monster in with too much… enthusiasm. Plenty of girls had ended up skewered like tender morsels on that colossal member, and its brutal sizes meant it could easily go from hurting someone to utterly destroying that someone. It could literally snuff out life beneath its obscene weight alone.

“You are two good girls, who know their place…" Killer teasingly said, grinning down at them, and he idly hooked his fingers into the shoulder of their dresses, ripping them off to the side and making it clear that it was time for them to give him a show. “But I don't know whether all other girls in Kendrew would be happy of your attempt to bring my devastation into the town. More importantly, I'm not sure I'm convinced I'd have enough fun there in doing it…"

“We'll make it fun for you, I promise…" Joy breathlessly said, Fine modulo

Inizio modulo

unable to keep her mouth from gaping as she admired him while reaching up to undo the last clasp that kept her dress wrapped around her large breasts. Athena did the same on the opposite side of his immense member, tearing open her dress and arching her back to show off her huge, firm breasts and the pierced nipples, rolling her great swells slowly together, deliberately letting ropes of drool lolling down until they splattered into her cleavage, her saliva smeared all over her boobs as she crushed them together.

“And they will all be more than happy to have a chance to serve you, Master… just like us, they won't be able to help themselves. They'll helplessly think of how many women you could breed with that thing… they will think of what your fist can do to a stupid man standing in your way…" Athena hoarsely said, panting a little as she turned around, slowly, and bent forwards deeply, hands touching the floor as she gazed teasingly back at him while showing off her perfect buttocks, her skirt doing very little to hide anything… before she opened her legs wide, and reached up to hook her fingers in her skirt and panties, yanking both down and revealing the winking, soaked labia of her little, quivering pussy. Well used, well experienced… but ludicrously small and utterly virginal when compared to that beast of a cock.

Joy sensually wiggled out of her own dress, letting the soaked cloth fall down along her legs and swaying her hips seductively as she reached back to squeeze into her buttocks and spread them, letting him see the juices dripping from her eager, quivering sex.

“We want to serve you, Master… and we are sure all the others will be just as eager. But if you don't want to do it for us, and not even for yourself… Please, consider doing it for your homeland." Joy softly said, looking up at him with a loving smile, one hand reverently massaging the side of his immense godcock as she turned around and teasingly ran the fingers of her other hand on the nicely trimmed bush on her groin. As she did so, she winked and pushed some of the auburn hair out of the way, to show off the KO tattoo that she had been forced to partially hide as it intimidated and irritated Griagas whenever he called her to his bed. Killer snorted in entertainment at that, and nodded with a smirk of approval. She looked so small compared to him, nothing but a little porcelain doll that he could cock-slap into pieces, her muscles utterly dwarfed by his immense strength, her strong, beautiful frame utterly and completely vulnerable and helpless in front of his goliath frame.

“Griagas is just one of many. The RA is forming new armies all around Kesteven, pouring money and troops in support of nobodies that get elevated to kings. You know better than we do that the RA will soon exact its price for all this help it has given them. All these armies will spring into action when the RA calls… a storm is coming, fast." Athena quietly warned, even though she, just like Joy, was wide-eyed in awe, lost in his shadow, dwarfed by his hulking, godlike majesty. She licked her lips, then tried to compose herself, but he could see the shivers and thrills rattling her body, the way she ground her thighs together while juice glinted in streaks down her thighs, the way her hands struggled not to rub at herself as they gripped into his cock almost with ferocity… but none of what she could do would ever hurt him in any way, even though such a squeeze would leave lesser males crying painful tears.

“When the storm arrives, your strength will once again lead Kesteven to victory, I'm sure… but you are so powerful that you could probably snuff the storm out before it even completely forms. And while on your own you are an unstoppable god among mortals… as king, with an army of your own to lead into battle, you'd be invincible." Athena insisted, eyes fixed on his behemoth godcock as it sloppily leaked massive amounts of essence; the head of his cock bulging, the huge flare casting a murderous shadow over her, the maw of his cock gaping as it drooled essence in thick, heavy ropes. “Kendrew is an opportunity to turn all this RA equipment into the core of your new army. And with your strength you can topple all the thrones you want, and make all those kingdoms yours… until Kesteven's southern side is completely yours, and safe."

"On that point, I can only agree." Killer admitted, giving a little nod and looking very serious. If a foreign, mysterious organization was pouring advanced weaponry into the hands of traitors and ambitious adventurers and turning them into “kings" to surround Kesteven with a multitude of invading armies, he could not just stay back and watch it happen.

Even though Griagas wasn't moving out against Kesteven yet, it was clear that he would, sooner rather than later: the RA, after all, at some point was going to be exacting its credits. They had put him on the throne, with a huge expense, and they certainly had every intention of recouping their investment.

That multitude of kingdoms was an alluring target: he could strike out against them all, and make all those territories and populations his own. Such an enterprise would give him the chance to prove that he could be the wise and illuminated king he had always dreamed to become one day… and it would also give him a chance to build up a new army, almost from the ground up, giving him full freedom to create the most modern and effective of fighting forces. The thought was tantalizing, and all his hesitations were rapidly dissolving… but still he did not want to commit. Killer was a man of his word: if he made a promise, he delivered on it. That meant, however, that he strived to think carefully before spending his word one time too many.

“I'm… tempted. And you've probably convinced me already. But let me think about it a little more, before I decide whether this is the right time to become king. For now…" He smirked, and squeezed the two females gently against his sides, looking down at them with eyes that burned with lust. “Downstairs they must be wondering at the lack of screaming and at the fact that the building is not yet shaking after all this time. That hurts my reputation, so… how about we start from where we left, huh?" He spoke in a playful tone, but already his experienced hands had moved up to seize one sumptuous breast each, and he gently squeezed and rolled and massaged the soft swells, drawing warm, eager moans from both tigresses as they reverently grabbed his monumental black cock and guided him towards the bed.

He followed them for the couple of steps it took, but then he let out a hungry rumble and squeezed into Joy's plump breasts so greedily that he hefted her clear off the ground, single-handedly and effortlessly lifting her up like the little toy she was, pinching her nipple between his thick fingers as she let out a grunt of surprise, excitement and pain mixed all together. He roughly turned her around, grinning as she gasped breathlessly and pushed her hands against his thick, broad, masculine, invulnerable chest, her fingers unable to restrain him in any way as he leaned down with a hoarse rumble and kissed her… or better, almost bit her face off, his teeth nipping into her features as he pretty much engulfed her whole muzzle, his drool splattering over her face as his thick, strong tongue rolled forwards, savoring her like she was truly just a piece of meat… before she helplessly parted her lips with a sigh of pleasure-fear, and his big tongue immediately invaded her maws, easily wrestling hers into stunned submission.

His hand slid down her naked body, touching and grabbing every part of her that he wanted, until his fingers slid down between her inner thighs, gripping into her soaked, dripping groin and effortlessly hefting her up a bit higher, before her eyes opened wide as one massive, strong finger roughly tore inside her, stretching her labia wide, more than most dicks ever could.

Joy moaned loudly into his mouth at that, a shiver rattling her visibly as her hands helplessly grabbed into his muscular chest, one vainly going up to grasp his jaw as he so easily and utterly dominated her. Athena had just enough time to grunt in surprise before she was just as easily picked up, yanked forwards into his massive form as his hulking muscles flexed and bulged with such power and hardness that she felt like she'd be crushed into a pulp. She trembled in a mix of pleasure and fear, but immediately, eagerly grasped into his muscular form, grinding herself into him as she all but pushed her perfect add into his hand, moaning eagerly as his fingers slid over her drenched sex and then grabbed her by the groin with almost brutal force, leaving her vulnerable, helpless and oh so eager.

He roughly pulled back from Joy's mouth only for long enough to turn around and mouth Athena's face instead, teasingly nicking her features with his fangs as he forced his thick tongue in, choking her audibly as he pushed deep into her very throat, while his hand squeezed into her crotch, feeling how dripping wet she was, how eager and impatient and needy as she helplessly tried to wrap her long, strong legs around his thick, powerful waist… only for him to easily heft her a bit higher still, until he could just drop her over the base of his monstrous godcock. She straddled the immense girth, amazed by how far apart it pushed her thighs, and she needed a moment to realize that his majestic shaft was easily supporting her entire body weight, barely angling downwards at all even as her feet kicked uselessly at the air, her toes curling uncontrollably as she moaned in ecstasy, gasping when he yanked his finger out of her drenched sex. He broke the kiss-bite, grinning as Athena helplessly gaped, leaning forwards slowly as if to chase his tongue, as if to beg it not to go away… and he smirked and spat into her maws, before rumbling: “You are a proud KO whore, aren't you…?"

“I am, I am… proud and eager…!" Athena breathed, while Killer easily moved Joy up as well, and the tigress swung her leg up past the great monument of hypervirility, mounting it as she would a might stallion, and Killer smirked as his titanic godcock easily kept both up aloft. Joy gaped with a breathless cry when he pulled his thick finger out of her needy pussy, stiffening like he had stabbed her with a knife… and he grinned and brought his two drenched fingers up, pushing them against their lips until they meekly suckled them in, licking them clear, tasting their own juices. The two tigresses were stunned by the intensity of the heat coming from his cock, which burned inside their soaked sexes and threatened to cause their sweet juices to boil, and they started bucking their hips slowly, grinding needingly down into him without even realizing it.

Killer enjoyed the sight and sound of them, listening to their soft little moans as he lazily rested his hands on his hips, letting his monstrous cock do all the heavy lifting, each mighty flex of the omnipotent pillar of masculinity bouncing the girls upwards like they weighted nothing. When he finally yanked his fingers out, he wiped them onto their hair, drying them somewhat from all the drool, and with a growl he leaned down again, kissing the tall girl just as savagely as before. He bit a little bit harder down on Athena's muzzle, holding her firmly in position as he kissed her hungrily, passionately, almost ferociously as his thick tongue played with hers, forcing it back, crushing it down, easily dominating her and looking straight down into her wide-open eyes over their joined, working muzzles. Her breasts ground into his solid, muscular chest, and her hands clawed and squeezed helplessly into his hulking, glorious form while her juices dripped down the sides of his cock, her pulsing, hot vagina grinding into it as her soaked labia sloppily kissed his member. She couldn't help but groaning weakly into his mouth, her breath becoming quick and irregular and hot on his muzzle as her chest heaved visibly… and he licked his lips at the sight of the scandalous mess on her face as her drool, his saliva, his thick precum and even his sweat mixed to smear her features and melt away her mascara, which streaked down her cheeks in big stains.

“Come for me. Beg, you sluts. Show me how much you need me." Killer rumbled, breaking the kiss only for a brief moment, his very voice rattling their ribcages, and they shivered visibly, their eyes locked onto his, proud and glacial and beautiful and terrible. He was smirking, but those eyes were as splendid as they were terrifying, and there was no doubt about they were saying: you are mine, my slaves, my toys, my meat to play with, to use and abuse as I see fit.

Athena groaned loudly, completely overwhelmed, her tongue vainly trying to fight back against his, so much thicker and larger and stronger, and her hips immediately began to buck faster, harder, out of control, and her eager passage clenched rhythmically around his strong finger even though he wasn't moving it at all. Her whole body flexed, her back arched, and the thick, swollen labia of her sex bulged out against his cock, her breath caught and she flushed furiously, moaning and clutching into him as warm, clear nectar gushed out of her, flowed down her thighs and washed down the sides of his monstrous cock.

She let out a loud cry of ecstasy and shame at being controlled so utterly, at being used so completely, but little Joy let out a sobbing groan that echoed even louder in the room as her legs trembled violently, feet kicking uselessly at the air and her well defined abs rippling with the strength of the suction, of the rhythmical clenching of her folds as she squirted out her own rich fountain of pearly nectar.

He rumbled in delight at the feeling of their precious juices streaking down the flanks of his immense cock, and he wrapped his arms around them, crushing them one into the other and against his muscular body, smirking as they rocked their hips and looked up at him with drool falling from their lips, legs trembling as they ground into his monstrous member, their eyes glowing with lust and ecstasy and adoration. Whores, pieces of meat, fucktoys: his to use and to abuse in any and every way he liked. Their eyes and minds were filled with awe, ecstasy, adoration, delight and desperate need and undeniable craving.

He snorted in entertainment as the two girls trembled between his arms and against his masculine chest, their bodies burning with need and sweating with fear as they felt the power in his arms, the bulging of his immense biceps, the power in his whole body: the power to crush them both out of existence like gnats, the power to turn them into nothing but blood-oil to massage onto his hulking muscles if he just so wished. A mere flex would be enough to crush them into pulp, and a crazy, suicidal part of them almost craved just that, while another part of them, full of terror, made their cheeks burn red and sent tears flowing down their cheeks, making the mascara run.

“Again, sluts." He commanded, grinning not in arrogance but in full awareness of his utter power over them, and they groaned helplessly, shivering hard as their hips bucked hard and more nectar rushed out of them, making him laugh before he cleared his throat and spat on little Joy's face, before grabbing her features in his huge hand, smearing his drool all over her muzzle and squeezing into her skull hard enough to make it creak, just to hear her cry: “I'm your whore, Master… your toy… your meat… my life is yours!"

And it truly was… oh, she was so frail and helpless. He could crush her skull like a rotten tomato. But instead he wrapped his other omnipotent arm around Athena's waist and effortlessly hefted her high up above his head, growling: “Again, whores! Cum for me!"

He opened his maws wide, showing off perfect and fearsome fangs, and Athena blushed furiously, terribly ashamed of herself at being so utterly unable to resist, and when her thighs instinctively ground together as if to hide her dripping labia, he roughly forced her legs apart, catching the rich fountain of nectar springing out of her right into his mouth, while Joy cried loudly as her juice rushed down his shaft and streaked down the mighty slopes of his ponderous balls.

He rumbled in approval as Athena's orgasm subsided, and he closed his mouth, cheeks slightly puffed out as he kept her hot nectar inside his maws, savoring it while he roughly shoved both females off his body, sending them crashing down onto the bed. He leaned over them, an hulking titan who easily dwarfed the both of them and cast them into his shadow, and he spat all that pearly juice on their stunned, flushed faces, before grabbing them by the legs and yanking them towards him, past his burgeoning, terrifying godcock as it pulsed with heat and power above them, a godlike weapon that made them shiver and gasp in awe… before that monument of hypervirility flexed and grew even further before their eyes, reaching its full, astounding omnipotence and bobbing up with incredible vigor, erupting out a gargantuan wad of thick precum which fired across the room and smacked into the wall hard enough to crumble the plaster, caking the wall in dark, hyperpotent masculinity and tearing up all the way to the ceiling as Killer growled in hunger and arched his back with a flex.

“Holy shit…!" Joy screamed, unable to restrain herself as thick backsplatters of his omnipotent pre fired back all the way onto them and the bed, and Athena gaped at the sight of that unending rope of precum shooting right into the ceiling, their bodies trembling in fear, awe, ecstasy and terror as their hips rocked uncontrollably and another wrecking orgasm struck them… before they blushed furiously as, with another shiver, both of their bladders let go and they pissed themselves in a orgy of terror and lust. Their urine soaked the bed and washed over the monumental cock of the giant male, who smirked almost cruelly and seized their throats in his hands, choking them hard for a brief moment as he rumbled: “Pissing yourselves between orgasms already…? Enjoying yourselves a little too much, huh, you selfish whores…?"

He yanked both females further backwards across the bed, before he unceremoniously smothered them both under his sweaty, ponderous, hairy balls, the weight of those massive orbs crushing them down into the bed as their faces ground into those monstrous testicles as he bared his fangs down at them with a snarling grin of command.

He didn't need words. He only licked his lips hungrily and let them struggle under the colossal mass of his balls, spreading his legs a bit wider as the two females huddled together and reached up to grasp, touch, stroke, fondle those monumental sperm tanks, too heavy to be pushed off their chests as their ribs creaked and dented inwards, even as they ground their messy faces against his sack, trying desperately to look up and meet his eyes past the glorious mass of his cock, just to show him how hard they trembled, how terrified and yet exhilarated their eyes were as they choked loudly on his hypervirile musk, their breath coming out in little whistles from their noses as they moaned weakly for him and leaked their juices down their long legs, filling the room with the stink of their lust.

He leisurely pumped his immense shaft with one huge hand that couldn't even wrap halfway around that monstrous girth, and he smirked at the familiar feeling of his power thrumming, burning, pulsing, flexing under his fingers, invincible, immense, overkill. The power to ruin, the power to breed, the power to kill, the power to enslave. And all the time they could merely crush their features against the heavy folds of his sweaty sack, their faces completely trapped under that heavy flesh that struggled to contain those hypervirile Moons, their lungs burning and aching as they filled up with nothing but pure hypermasculine stench. He grinned as he heard them choking, and faintly gasping, their helpless whimpering coming up muffled by his thick mass of male-flesh, and he let out a low growl of pleasure, letting his head fall back and his eyes half-lid as his unrivalled monster of a cock pulsed with raw power, every flex of that great anaconda of flesh causing the two girls to shiver and twitch as the bottom of the gargantuan cock ground down into her hard enough to nearly cave her chest in.

They kissed, slurped, mouthed, slobbered, choked loudly, bubbles of that vile mixture covering their faces, the mess coating the bottom of his balls as he allowed them some time to wordlessly worship him, as he granted them the honor and blessing of licking up the sweat from his all-male balls, until he roughly yanked them up by the throats, handled them like utter toys as he hurled them ahead of him, making them grunt in surprise, pain and excitement as their faces dripped with drool and precum and with running mascara and tears and potent male sweat. They looked up at him, in fear and adoration, and the liger, the beast leaned over them, his hulking form dwarfing them both before he grinned as he let his monstrous cock slam down on them, knocking them sprawling and watching as his monstrous flare eclipsed Athena's face, the massive cockhead smashing into her with such weight and mass to make her gurgle and tremble under it, blood leaking out of her nose as the monstercock bruised her cheek, nearly splitting it open.

She stared up at him through bruised eyes, her face a mask of slobber, mascara and now blood, as that vile mixture streaked down her muzzle and stained that godlike cockhead, right near that vast cock-maw which gaped wide, sloppily pouring out an endless deluge of omnipotent masculine gunk, glueing one of her eyes entirely shut and clogging up her nose and filling up her mouth as he grunted and dumped out a great globe of Alpha waste: a scary tangle of enormous hypersperm full of awesome, terrible vigor. Athena gasped in fear and awe, trembling as she felt the immense, terrible weight crushing down on her. And that, she realized with a mix of delight and horror, was just a mere hint of that monstrous burden, because the gargantuan length of god-meat was hard and it proudly supported itself, looming over her. She was pinned under little more than the fat, girthy, immense head, which hung lower under its own calamitous weight.

He grinned, and it was oh so painfully clear that he could turn her head into pulp if he just shifted his hips a bit and let some more of that godcock settle down. He could easily kill her with his cock, or with his balls alone. He could crush her out of existence beneath them… and it made her feel vulnerable and insignificant and unworthy, and at the same time incredibly aroused.

She licked, and kissed, and opened her jaws wide, gaping, yawning desperately wide to beg for it even though it meant little that her jaws creaked, because that tremendous girth continued to look ludicrously out of scale… and he snorted in entertainment and rolled his hips forwards slightly, just enough to ram that monstrous head into her mouth, immediately choking her, immediately causing her jaws to creak as the vast tip fit partly into her mouth. Her tongue immediately stroked over it, tasting the dark, thick, omnipotent precum, her eyes opening wide as she shuddered at how incredibly superior it was. Delicious. Addictive. Hypermasculine. Powerful. So thick and full of giant sperms that she had to chew it… without much success. “Good thing you like it, because I could drown you in it…!" Killer taunted, before unleashing an enormous load of the stuff that puffed her cheeks out ridiculously and exploded back all over her face, before he mercifully pulled back to let the blast fire across the room and once more pummel the wall.

She choked and gargled and did her best to swallow down in thick, huge gulps, but then shivered as she felt his monstrous balls pulling back, off her lower body… and his immense shaft slid down her body as he dragged back, and back, and back, that endless monument of godcock snaking down the front of her body until the fat head of that behemoth forced her thighs far apart and pushed into her groin, effortlessly shoving her whole body around. Killer unceremoniously seized her by the ankles and tore her legs wide open, forcing her almost to split before he spat on her quivering, tiny, needy pussy, his saliva joining her juices and an enormous amount of his dense, slick precum. She was as lubed up as she could possibly be, but it did nothing to balance the fact that his cockhead loomed over her entire groin, grinding into her thighs on either side, dwarfing her poor little slit in an absolutely ludicrous way. His cockmaw seemed literally larger than her pussy, even though she was far from being a virgin in any way. She had given Griagas multiple sons and daughters, but that monstrous black flare looked like it would be the same as trying to give birth to triplets at the very same time. Probably, actually worse than that.

Killer laughed, holding her by the ankles and shoving slowly, playfully forwards… and her breath caught in her throat, her eyes bulging in shock and awe, terror and desire, but of course the immense flare slipped over the lube and ground down over her abs, all the way up past her breasts and straight into her face, punching her almost into knock-out. As Joy stared, helpless and in awe, Killer snickered and drew back again, pushing slowly and gently forwards… but the immense cock was harder than steel and once more slipped instead of tearing into that clearly undersized tiny slit.

He laughed at that obscene display, his monster cock bobbing gloriously in the air and sending thick splatters of precum raining down everywhere, before he effortlessly grabbed Joy and rolled her over onto Athena, unceremoniously piling the two girlfriends up into a 69, with Joy's stunned face mere inches away from the colossal black flare and even closer to that little, trembling pussy which cried out her juices and a sprinkle more of piss, quivering in fear in front of that enormous, invincible invader.

“Spread her wide, Joy!" He tauntingly ordered, fully aware of how hopeless any attempt would be, and the young tigress obeyed without hesitation, hooking her fingers into her taller friend's sex and yanking mercilessly in the two opposite directions, spreading it as wide as it could possibly go. It wasn't enough, of course… nowhere near enough, in fact, and Joy panted quietly, in fear and ecstasy, eyes open wide to stare down into that gaping pussy before Killer's cock eclipsed the hole completely out of sight.

“You are next, little Joy." Killer teasingly reminded, seizing his monstrous shaft in a big, strong hand and guided it against the gaping, flexing hole, leaving Athena panting in pure wonder… before his other hand pushed down on Joy's back, crushing both of them down into the bed and pinning them in place, with no hope of ever escaping his omnipotent grip.

His cock was way too much for even her body to hear, but also so solid, hard and powerful to rip its way into her, bulldozing her tight entrance, obliterating her pussy, tearing her labia apart as they desperately clung on to his girth, her whole body flexing in time with the violent clenching of her sex as it at once tried to suck him deeper in and hopelessly attempted to push that immense invader back. It nearly dislocated her hips as she bucked violently, helplessly, her back arching as her orgasm juices mixed with her blood and spurted out of her poor, devastated hole, splashing on Joy's face and into her mouth as she leaned down with a shiver and lapped as best she could at her friend's groin and at his immense, endless black shaft. Athena shrieked at the top of her lungs, legs kicking uselessly at the air as he rammed deeper in, her belly already bulging obscenely in the shape of his cock and flare. She could only see Joy's crying, soaked little pussy, but she could feel oh so clearly the way his cock was reshaping her, bulging her body out, bulldozing its way past her feeble resistances, could feel her cervix smashed apart like it wasn't even there to begin with, she could feel her very womb stretched out like a too-small condom as he buried himself deeper in, carelessly pushing up into her very guts, his immensity forcefully rearranging her organs inside of her as he forced himself forwards, his huge, muscular, omnipotent body leaning over them and crushing them down, trapping them between two huge arms that looked like trees as he snarled-grinned. “That's right, you bitch, scream! Scream loud for your real and forever king, you lucky little whore. I know how much you love it, I know you live to be fucked like this! Southern whores pay a thousand bucks per inch to get me to fuck their brains out, so you are extra lucky that this is on the house!"

Blood and hot, clear juice squirted out of her, blasting out in loud, obscene squelches from around his tremendous girth, the fluids accumulating inside her and adding to the pressure, unable to leak out due to how monstrously thick he was. Her labia, torn and stretched-out, clung desperately to his girth, not a single millimeter of space left uncrammed by hard black meat as Athena felt every single thick, cable-like vein of his cock like it was a whole mountain range tearing into her. She could only scream in response to his words, her head rocking from side to side as she clawed into the mattress, ripping it apart while her hot breath washed over Joy's soaked, quivering pussy and made the smaller tigress shiver in anticipation and fear and need. Joy trembled as her friend's blood splattered onto her mouth and face, gripping into her thighs and holding them spread wide even as Athena quivered and convulsed, her thighs automatically attempting to close together. Joy could feel Killer's immense cock moving beneath her, the monstrous bulge in Athena's body beginning to move up and down as Killer stretched her out like she was a too-small condom, brutally ramming his goliath cock deep inside her, nearly tearing her inside-out whenever he yanked that monumental obelisk of hypervirility backwards, causing juices to gush out of her and down onto the bed and past its edge, blood and hot nectar cascading down to the floor… before his thick, dense precum burst out of her with terrifying violence, a deluge of hypervirility overflowing out of her in a loud, scandalous pussy-fart, followed by an even louder squelch as he rammed back inside her, plugging her hole, causing her groin to seemingly collapse inside her… before Joy gasped as that monstrous cock pistoned backwards and yanked Athena's labia far, far out, prolapsing her womb as it clung desperately to that immense shaft. Again, and again, and again, the huge male slammed in and out of her, all the time bulldozing his way a bit deeper inside her ruined body, with still a deluge of feet of steel-hard black shaft that just could not fit, his frightening medial ring still far away from her bloodied, obliterated pussy. Joy did her best to lick up the blood, the precum, the juices flooding out, her little hands trembling as she leaned forwards to kiss and lap at his glorious godcock, slobbering over the rest of it. He wasn't even close to being halfway inside, yet he could literally feel the weak beating of her heart right next to his monstrous cockhead as he rammed deep inside her, and Athena screamed in agony and ecstasy, trashing uncontrollably, shuddering in orgasm after orgasm as he only grinned down at her. Oh, he hadn't expected anything more from her, she could tell… tigress or not, she was just as helpless a cocksleeve as the southerner wives he liked to utterly devastate. She could only rock herself wildly back against him, out of rhythm, out of control, her muscles spasming and moving of their own accord as she orgasmed yet again, groaning helplessly as she felt an enormous blast inside her, like cannon fire, and she felt her body immediately bloated even more as his enormous load of precum filled her up with such violence that she choked, eyes bulging wide as she was slammed away by that incredible, godly deluge of hyperpotent masculine essence, her whole body sliding up along the tremendous shaft, shot off like a cork, until he snickered and seized roughly into her shoulder, yanking her hard back down as he growled in pleasure and pumped her full of his Alpha waste. His monstrous, calamitous cock had already ripped through her insides and reached depths it should never have been able to touch, but now she felt something else tearing inside of her as she gargled and literally felt his dark essence coming up her throat, before it exploded thickly out of her mouth, washing over her face, more of it bursting out of her nostrils as she coughed and choked and gurgled, feet kicking uselessly at the air as it burst out of even her ears, even mixed with her tears of agony and delirious ecstasy as a colossal wad of precum shot right through her and arched out of her mouth, ready to fly for who knew how many dozens of feet before even beginning to arch downwards… but the wall was in the way, and Athena shivered helplessly at the incredible crash of precum into concrete, shuddering under a thick storm of backsplatter while his omnivirile waste, his lubricant, literally dented the wall and then, as the endless jet of pre made its way up towards the ceiling, it dug a deep trench in the concrete. And that was still nowhere near enough to cope with that flood of ultravirility, and more of that potent onyx stuff burst out of even her ass, which already gaped, even before being touched, just because of how terribly wide open he was forcing her legs as he obliterated her pussy.

“Is it too much…?" Killer taunted, grinning widely as her juices squirted from her cunt and warm drops landed on his abs, the fountain of pearly nectar washing down his majestic, swinging balls and producing a wet smack every time those wrecking balls smashed down into the bed, as the heavy piece of furniture helplessly groaned and creaked and lurched loudly across the room, until it smacked into the far wall, rammed out of place by the huge male's lazy and yet terribly powerful thrusts. “I know you've dreamed of this all your life, bitch… your tattoo proves it. How many times have you squirted out your brains in front of my videos, huh? And dreamed of being the lucky whore on the screen. I'd hurt you worse, but it would only make you squirt all the harder, wouldn't it…? Can't rape a slut like you, because you live to be fucked like this!" Killer teased, his deep voice rattling their ribcages and booming into the room even though the plaster rained down in pieces and fragments and dust around them as the bed slammed loudly into the wall, again and again and again, cracking it and rattling the whole building as he crushed her down into the bed, thrusting hard, fast, and rough, grinning with savage pleasure.

He fucked her quite literally within an inch of her life, but when her spluttering and breathing almost ceased, snuffed out under the deluge of precum she continued to helplessly vomit all over her own face, he slammed in a few more times and then stepped back, tearing his monstrous godcock out of her and making her scream in agony and ecstasy as that savage flare popped loudly and painfully out, followed by an unholy, tremendous gush of dark precum that rushed out of her and literally flooded the room, forming a puddle, a lake, a sea of hypervirility on the floor as Athena's bulging, inflated belly deflated and she screamed out in helpless awe.

Joy shivered at the realization of just how wide Athena gaped, and she pulled swiftly back out of the way of the great cascade of precum, eyes open wide in shock and wonder as the godlike male laughed and aimed his unrivalled monument of hypervirility at the shattered window, so that the unending jet of dark precum fired out, past the balcony and literally across the town square, smacking loudly into the roof of the building on the other side… before Killer seized her by the skull and pushed his bloodstained, precum-drenched tower of hypervirility against her face.

She trembled, but mouthed and kissed and licked that fat, monstrous cockhead, staring at it as it throbbed with awful power, lightly smacking into her features with every vigorous flex. She didn't need to be ordered around: she opened her jaws desperately wide, and Killer allowed that monstrous flare to press forwards, stretching her jaws savagely and forcing her to swallow in more of that immense cockhead, her eyes staring up at him in reverence and awe as she slid her tongue over his vast cockmaw, groaning weakly when it easily slipped inside the huge urethra that continued to unleash hyperpotent seed, sending a sloppy river of think male gunk down her throat, filling up her stomach and bloating it to painful levels. She twisted and rolled her tongue inside the vast maw of that godbeastly cock, panting brokenly at the realization of just how large it was: enough that she could probably push her fist inside if she wanted… while an average person could have easily stuck both arms inside, if not be swallowed up whole by that mammoth godcock. In some of his movies he had done exactly that, much as it was still hard to believe.

But Killer wanted more and wasn't willing to wait, so he grinned and pinched her nose shut with one hand while carelessly hooking one finger into the corner of her mouth, yanking It open further even as her cheeks already puffed ludicrously out, her muzzle creaking audibly as her jaws were pushed far beyond where they were meant to go. The jawbone audibly cracked, and she whimpered weakly, but even as her eyes became almost entirely white as they rolled up in her skull, she continued to stare at him with craving and need. She immediately gagged as that enormous beast clogged up her throat, that immense mass shutting off her airways as he began to thrust forwards, burying more of his immensity into her and smirking at the sight of her body helplessly spasming and twitching in time with the flexing of his omnipotent cock.

Killer wedged the top of his vast, terrible flare into her mouth, grinning viciously at how the tremendous, unforgiving girth deformed her face, before he angled his thrust to try and fit the lower half of his monstrous cockhead inside her hot maw, but her jaw was inexorably in the way. His cock was harder than steel, however, and that monstrous flare looked like it would have easily smashed its way right through a wall of reinforced concrete. Her jaw cracked loudly, then dislocated as he rammed forwards with a rumble, clutching her skull in one huge hand and grabbing her by the groin with the other, unceremoniously ripping two of his thick, strong fingers up her soaked passage and effortlessly lifting her clear off Athena, holding her steady in front of him, at an optimal angle to drive his immense cock deeper down her throat.

Her neck bulged ludicrously outwards as his behemoth cock bulldozed its way down to her stomach, and she did her utmost to keep her eyes from rolling up into her skull, gazing up at him with adoration, weak, stupid, breathless, with omnipotent precum already squelching out of her nostrils and drooling out around the immense girth, blood and seed leaking from her nose, her face a battered mess, just visible around the massive godcock that deformed it into a grotesque mask of helpless, slavish worship.

Killer snorted as he began to thrust, ramming his giant cock deeper in and at the same time yanking Joy's body up and down his monstrous length, fucking her face with careless hunger, grinning at the obscene cacophony of wet squelches and belches that came from her slobbering, messy mouth. She gasped and flexed, her eyes rolling in her head before her whole body shuddered hard, wrecked and overwhelmed, yet she slowly reached her numb arms up to grasp the cock that was ruining her, hugging it as best she could, stroking and massaging it, pumping on the terrifying length of black shaft.

She could only choke and gurgle loudly, her whole body spasming and helpless as she felt that colossal tower of maleness ramming deep into her stomach and then ripping backwards with lazy, yet monstrous power, every time sending a deluge of dark precum, drool, blood and ichors bursting out in high-pressure jets from her nostrils and from the corners of her gaping, dislocated maw. She whimpered and wheezed, barely any air at all able to enter her nose around the thick hypervirile gunk clogging it shut, and she could think of nothing other than the huge cockhead cramming her jaws full. Even so, she did her best to suckle on it hungrily, her tongue dragging along it, lapping at the fat, glorious head as she slurped on it as much as her ruined, overstretched jaws would allow, her eyes stupid and progressively more vapid and glazed over as she drowned in his thick essence, but nonetheless staring up at him, letting him know that she now only existed to please and worship him.

He fucked her face with careless lust for a few moments, grinning as her ribcage creaked and visibly bulged outwards with the mass of his cock pushing deep down well past the bottom of her neck, but then he had to slowly drag his massive shaft up and out of her throat, careful not to turn her inside-out with his colossal girth and the brutal barbs all around his flare, until the colossal cockhead came free and loose from her eager lips, producing an obscene wet sound that made him grunt and grin in delight, just like the deluge of dark precum that gushed out of her as she spluttered and attempted to pull herself up not to drown in the thick essence. She groaned breathlessly, gaping and drooling, her breath coming out in rasping gasps because her airways were clogged up with dense hypervirile gunk, and yet her tongue lapped at the air, chasing after his godcock with longing, even as her dislocated jaw hung down, unable to close, only able to gape stupidly.

She half-whimpered, half-rasped words of worship and a prayer, but Killer barely paid any attention to that, letting his brutal godcock slap lightly over her head and back, nearly crushing her into pulp as he reached over to grab her by one ankle, effortlessly spinning the two girls around until Athena grunted as her head fell down past the edge of the bed, giving her a spectacular view of his muscular legs looming on either side and the majestic, prodigious cock towering above, aimed now at Joy's perfect bubble butt, the monstrous flare pushing forwards into that little, cute groin and completely eclipsing it.

Athena clenched her teary eyes shut and somehow found the strength to pull herself up enough to nuzzle into Joy's quivering, drenched pussy, liking at it gently, encouragingly, before nuzzling into the underside of the behemoth black shaft, lapping up her own blood and Joy's, tasting Killer's tremendous virility and chewing on that thick, potent gunk of his, while her fingers squeezing helplessly into Joy's buttocks, spreading them as far as they could do without the male needing to order it. Not that it would help much: the fat cockhead continued to utterly dwarf Joy's little cunt, which trembled and seemed to cry helplessly in a mix of terror and ecstasy… before the huge male grinned and adjusted the angle to push against the tigress's tiny little asshole instead, causing both females to gasp loudly at the realization.

Both their bodies tensed and flexed, but no matter how muscular, powerful and solid they were, they utterly paled in comparison to the male who again dropped down over them, crushing them under his hulking form and turning them into weak, helpless toys, fuck-putty beneath his power, flimsy cocksleeves that his massive shaft was going to tear apart at any moment.

Athena trembled almost as hard as Joy did, her breath catching in her throat as she hurriedly spat onto the smaller tigress' little tailhole, at the same time yanking on her buttocks all the harder to spread them apart… but it was all pathetic and woefully insufficient in front of the monstrous enormity of the male's godly cock. His vast, immense flare was like a seat, pushing against Joy's ass and effortlessly shoving her whole body forwards, her form shuddering violently as she clawed into the bed and breathlessly moaned: “Oh, god… oh, god, oh, god… G-god, have m-mercy… I'm little!"

Killer smirked as he seized her hair in one hand, gripping her mane right at the base, his fingers almost digging into her skull, before his other huge hand grabbed at her face, hooking into her already gaping mouth and shoving two thick, strong fingers down her throat, making her gag and choke loudly as she helplessly began to suckle on them, while her poor little pussy clenched hard, quivering as it squirted out a new orgasm, washing Athena down in hot, pearly nectar… followed by her piss as her body flexed and trembled hard, her bladder giving up. “K-Killer… g-god…!"

“Yes… but you are lucky, I don't care too much for titles." The hulking male teasingly replied, before rudely yanking her head backwards and effortlessly hefting her whole body up, dragging it back towards him while ramming forwards with his muscular, powerful hips.

His immense cock could have rammed down the wall of a fortress, so the unforgiving tower of hypervirility had no difficulty bulldozing its way into her, smashing through the tight ring of muscle like a freight train, causing Joy's eyes to nearly bulge out of their sockets, her dislocated, gaping maw opening absurdly wide in a scream that came out almost entirely silent because he had quite literally fucked all air out of her lungs. Her back arched violently and a cry of pain and exhilaration burst out of her throat as soon as some air managed to whistle in through her nose, her eyes rolling up in her skull, white and unseeing and stupid as she felt that godlike flare obliterating her ass, that monstrous cock stretching her absurdly, viciously wide, her scream continuing whenever she successfully got some air in her lungs as she felt that massive cock forcing forwards, lubed by amazing amounts of thick, sticky precum, and then drool, sweat and blood

Her hips rocked wildly backwards, moving in helpless, violent spasms as her legs became numb with how far apart they were forcibly spread, her pelvis cracking audibly as her belly bulged obscenely outwards with the sizes of his member, while he effortlessly manhandled her body, yanking her back down along the immense black shaft as he leaned over her, crushing both females under his hulking musculature as he snarled like a beast, fangs gritted in a savage grin.

Athena winced in a helpless mix of terror and delight, fear and envy as her eyes stared at that monstrous girth bulldozing its way inside Joy, spreading her buttocks viciously apart, forcing her untouched little pussy to gape wide open as well. Blood squirted thickly out around his monstrous girth, and Athena shivered under the crimson rain, lapping it up as best she could and dragging her tongue up over his shaft, hands gripping helplessly into the monstrous length of meat still unused, sheer, murderous excess that made him look truly otherworldly, truly divine and unrivalled.

Joy cried out loudly, head rocking from side to side as she trembled under the flex of his muscles, under his power and the heat of his body, whimpering brokenly as his hips slammed that massive monument of males up into her ass, rump flexing as her belly bulged obscenely, crammed full of him, and the sheer immensity of his godlike member made her untouched vagina flex as it was forced to gape absurdly wide, giving Athena a stunning view of Joy's insides as the walls of her sex flexed and contracted, wetly sucking in air that was heavy and thick with his ultravirile stench.

He pushed forwards, letting his body grind down against hers, sweaty muscle flexing down against her as his precum exploded up into her with cannon-like force, and she gurgled, eyes rolling up in her head as her hips bucked helplessly while a veritable flood of omnipotent Alpha waste burst at once out of her pussy and out of her gaping mouth, thick strings of potent gunk blasting out of her nostrils as that heavy meteor of hypervirility shot across the room and smacked into the wall, rattling and cracking it.

Joy gurgled, arms trembling and losing all strength, sending her slumping forwards… but his immense shaft effortlessly held her whole body aloft, even though he had rammed inside her “just" around a quarter of his immense member. “Just" about 60 inches of monstrous godcock, enough on their own to make king Griagas look like an impotent newborn, yet just a hint of his true, godlike proportions. Joy gasped breathlessly, his bucking helplessly back against him as she did everything she could to serve him, to increase his pleasure, to let him know how much she worshipped and needed him, even as her brain filled with nothing but agony and ecstasy at the feel of him ramming his shaft forwards, of his cock invading her, tearing deep inside her, filling her up in ways she had never even imagined possible before.

Athena, from beneath, reached up to hug Joy's deformed, bulging belly, her hands squeezing on the male's enormous godcock with just a few inches of stretched-out tigress flesh in the way, and she hugged Joy's swollen, ruined form down against her own stinking, bruised, sweaty, sore, ravaged body as she nuzzled into the devastated asshole, dragging her tongue against that obliterated ring of muscle and up against that fat, glorious black cock, rasping a wordless plea.

He buried himself as deep as he could go without ripping Joy to shreds, and then, after the briefest of pauses just to let her get a full mouthful of air into her lungs, he began to thrust, powerfully, viciously, grinning as that precious breath was immediately forced out of her in a loud scream as he yanked her back by the hair and muzzle while slamming short, hard, violent pistons inside her, his beastly godhood tearing deep into her body again and again and again, making her bulging, deformed form shake and spasm with pain and pleasure, with greedy craving and with the helpless desire, no, real need to please, no matter what would be of her, no matter that her body could not possibly handle his sheer size and monstrous power.

She tried to buck back against him, but she soon lost control of her own body, her movements becoming quick, sudden, erratic as she spasmed and twitched, eyes rolling up in her head and toes curling helplessly as her legs kicked weakly at the air as he ruthlessly, relentlessly pistoned his immense shaft in and out of her devastated hole, sending blood and ichors squirting halfway across the room as he ground roughly against the two far smaller females, grinning as Joy uselessly clutched at his steel-hard, huge arms as she threw her head back with a loud, trembling howl of ecstasy and pain as he crushed her under his thrusts, ramming into her with godlike power and speed, bouncing her whole body up along his monstrous shaft, her body sliding up his tremendous length and then slipping back down. Thick precum and other fluids squelched and belched loudly out of her ass whenever he pulled backwards, and her pussy sprayed out tears of ecstasy as it gaped wide, stretched out by his sheer girth before he even directly assaulted it. Athena gasped softly as her tongue easily slid inside that gaping, quivering cave, and her hot breath washed inside Joy as she almost pushed her whole muzzle in, trembling as Killer yanked back on Joy's hair like they were reins, while he thrust two fingers of his other hand deep down into her throat, making her choke and splutter as he pummeled her poor body not like she was a person or even just a fragile living being, but like she was nothing but a replaceable toy, a fuckdoll, an unworthy rag for him to roughly masturbate into.

The fact that her pussy spewed out her nectar in an almost continuous succession of squirts was just a given, not something the huge male was putting any effort into. He wanted to take his pleasure out of the small whore, and he used her at back-breaking rhythm, stretching her out into a worn-out, ruined fleshlight, brutally slamming his immense cock in and out, again and again and again and again, relentless, merciless, nearly ripping her inside out with every hard piston backwards of his obelisk of godhood, his flare literally yanking on her guts, forcibly rearranging her insides as it bulged with frightening clarity out of her chest, her poor body stretched out so savagely that one could almost see the bulging veins of his cock through her stretched-thin abdomen, her abs distended and almost torn apart. Her bones creaked ominously as his girth threatened to split her in half whenever he plunged back inside her, as his throbbing, steel-hard cock hardened up even further and bulged even more monstrously large. He wasn't even halfway in, and Joy was fully aware that, if he decided to hilt himself inside her, her poor body was going to be impaled like a tender piece of meat.

She couldn't even scream, because she could feel enormous blasts, like volcanoes erupting inside of her, and she felt his incandescent “magma" filling her up with tremendous violence, even as rivers of his essence overflowed out of her holes and rushed down her thighs, mixed with her watery nectar. Her eyes bulged as she cried, mascara staining her cheeks but barely visible at all among the dark precum drenching her, and her lolling jaw gaped open even wider as she helplessly vomited thick, sticky black essence that exploded out of her in huge meteors. Whatever had been in her stomach from that day's breakfast had to be there as well, but it was impossible to tell due to the sheer mass of tangled hyper-sperms and hypervirile gunk that threatened to drown her, her head almost completely buried under the flood as he only grinned and unleashed even more inside her ruined body.

He yanked his enormity back out of her only when she was more dead than alive, and her whole body shuddered hard as the gargantuan flare ripped out with a loud, terrible, obscene pop-squelch, followed by an apocalyptic rush of dark precum that nearly washed Athena away and drowned her.

Killer lightly swung his immense shaft sideways, smacking into Joy's side and rolling her over like she was a ragdoll, before he hooked two fingers in Athena's mouth and yanked her forwards, sending her crashing on the floor, landing on her annihilated pussy with a moan of pleasure-pain at the feeling of sitting on her prolapsed, ruined sex. She shuddered hard, head crashing backwards onto the bed as she slumped against it, staring at that massive, godly black shaft as it loomed above her, soaked in his hyperpotent essence and in Joy's nectar, her blood, her gore, her ichors and the filth of the ass, intestines and stomach that Killer had just rammed “clean".

Killer snorted, stepping back until his monstrous flare slammed down against her face, cracking bone as she groaned and shuddered, eyes rolling up in her skull and whole body spasming… yet she still tremblingly reached up with her numb arms, trying to hug the glorious cock that was pummeling both of them into stupefied wrecks. She hugged the monster that had ripped them and ruined them and that was nowhere near done with them, leaning into it and kissing it as she ground her stinking, bruised, wrecked body against it, whimpering a breathless plea until Killer smirked arrogantly and seized his immense member, angling it straight down for her, spreading his powerful legs as he stood right above her… before he turned around and reached back to grab Joy by one leg, spinning her around like an inanimate object and guiding her broken muzzle against his asshole, dropping his heavy tail atop her to pin her in place. Not that she had any intention to leave, or any energy left to even try… just to make it clear where she belonged.

Athena trembled hard, but hugged the monstrous cock and planted little kisses down its length, while Joy slobbered and slurped and kissed at his muscular asshole, coughing on his rich, addictive, superior male stench. Athena pressed her lips against the beast one more time, then did her best to open her jaws wide for him, knowing what he wanted and staring up at him while trying hard to whisper a “thank you". It came out as a broken wheeze, but made the colossal male grin as he reached down to seize her skull in his hands, tilting it back, and then guiding his bloodstained, filthy cock right to her hopelessly tight mouth.

He wedged his massive flare in, grinning as her breath whistled out of her nose while her cheeks bulged ludicrously, obscenely wide out, and he let out a little rumble of approval as her tongue did its best to cradle the monster and lick up towards the vast cock-maw… before he thrust slowly but mercilessly downwards, grinning as bones cracked and her lower jaw dislocated, before her neck began to bulge obscenely as his member ripped down her throat. He reached down with a rumble, grabbing her neck with both hands, throttling her roughly and hissing in pleasure at the incredible feeling of his own immensity ripping down through his tight grip. Athena gargled and choked, drool bursting out of her nostrils, but she still huddled up between the legs of the male, grasping his knees and turning her face towards the ceiling, filling her eyes with the sight of the huge, heavy, Moon-like balls of that dark god that had come to the planet to make it his own. Those titanic sperm factories hung ominously, outrageously over her head, and the huge cock rammed straight downwards as Killer kept it angled downwards with a strong hand. She did her best to suck hard, to swallow the huge cockhead, and the male “helped" by yanking her upwards with the huge hand clutching at her skull, burying himself deeper inside her stomach.

The huge cock stretched her jaws painfully, forcing them absurdly wide open, causing her to scream… but, in fact, all she could produce were gurgling, slobbering sounds, because she had her mouth simply too full of hot, hard meat. Visibly, obscenely stretching out her neck, which bulged ridiculously with the advancing of his cock, Killer buried in her throat some more inches of his length, growling in pleasure and amusement at the incredible tightness around his huge cock.

Her eyes bulged as the massive godcock tore forwards, the fearsome girth thrusting her bones out of shape and forcing her entire lower jaw to shift and almost to shatter as he grunted and plowed forwards, forcing that goliath member down into her throat, ramming it down her neck as he thrusts his monstrous member down her jaws. The rebellious size queen gurgled helplessly as the monstrous cock bulldozed its way down into her maw, her eyes rolling in her head as she rattled helplessly around the devastating girth, gagging and choking violently. She felt herself hauled forwards, her eyes filled with tears as her cheeks puffed out, her jaw clenching and unclenching, her whole body bulging with the shape of his massive cock.

His precum exploded inside her with indescribable force, basting back up out of even her ears, and she lost all control of herself, nearly passing out even as she did everything she could to throat as much of that godlike, tyrannical scepter as she could, her tongue crushed under that monstrous girth yet still desperately trying to clean him, to lick him free of sweat, grime, endless amounts of his own potent essence, tasting Joy's blood and ass. Thick precum flooded her throat and forced her cheeks to bulge painfully outwards until it spurted out from her mouth and nostrils, her eyes bulging out and staring at him pleadingly, but that only added to his delight, encouraging the titan to ram forwards again, burying his colossal member a bit deeper and then beginning to make short, vicious thrusts that caused her to gag and choke loudly, slobbering helplessly on that monster, eyes rolling back in her skull as her hands convulsively squeezed into the godlike shaft, helplessly stroking, grasping at that almighty tower of black meat that was tearing down her stretched-out throat. Her eyes glazed over and rolled up in her skull as she felt her consciousness slipping away, and when Killer started to push even deeper in, forcing yet more incredible inches of his cock down, the female started to panic, already pretty much unable to get any air as all her airways were completely cut off by meat and masculine gunk. Her mind filled up with images of who knows many past girls that he had suffocated with that same huge cock, her eyes opening wide to fearfully stare at the immensity of his shaft, still mostly unused and looming in front of her face. She suddenly felt herself so tiny... so small and weak in front of this giant, this god.

But eventually, Killer tore his monstrous enormity out of her jaws, grinning as she helplessly vomited dark precum all over herself, before he roughly pushed her over with his foot, sending her crashing with her face to the floor, features buried in the amazing lake of dark precum that already flooded the room. Her eyes bulged as she felt him effortlessly yanking her ass up in the air, and she moaned when he guided his godlike cock to her tiny asshole, before letting out a true howl when he rammed forwards, smashing his way through and stretching her savagely, impossibly wide with the mass of his flare.

She screamed out every last bit of air that she had in her lungs, and Killer only smirked in entertainment, playfully slapping her firm buttock, immediately turning it crimson and leaving behind the clear imprint of his huge, heavy hand as she shuddered and squeaked in surprise and pain, while her gaping pussy flexed and clenched, sending out a dribble of warm juice that Joy hungrily chased, dragging herself to the edge of the bed and opening her mouth wide as she craned her neck up a little, as far as her exhausted form could go. Athena whimpered and bucked her hips wildly up against him as her thighs spasmed with the force of her orgasm, hands slamming into the floor as she threw her head from side to side, but despite how hard her passage flexed and clenched, her nectar came out in a weak dribble. Amazing as it was to think about, he was fucking them with such strength and relentless rhythm that their bodies were running out of fluids. She had already gone through so many climaxes that she had not only mostly lost control of her mind and emotions, but also poured out almost all of her sweet juices.

In contrast, Killer only ever blasted out even more immense loads of masculine omnipotence, making her shudder in awe-pain and half-roll over as she helplessly hugged her sore, ruined, swelling body as his gigantic mega-sperms filled her up and overflowed back out of her ass, squirting out around the immense pistoning girth of the male, but even more out of her nose, mouth, ears… even out of her gaping, devastated sex as the huge male grinned and teasingly pulled up one foot, settling the cruel sole of his boot down on Athena's skull and easily pinning her face down into his thick essence, hands holding her by the ankles as he snorted steam from his nostrils and began to pile-drive his immense shaft down inside her bulging, abused body.

He pummeled her, drilled her, massacred her poor hole in spectacular fashion, grinning widely as the overflowing backsplatters of his own thick dark precum fired out of her with such force to smack into the ceiling and rattle the room, pulverizing the plaster but generating no clouds of dust because the sheer amount of dark, hypervirile produce easily glued all remains together in a dense, sticky gunk.

He was insatiable and relentless, and Athena could only gurgle and choke on his potent essence, her body spasming completely out of control, erratically bouncing back against him, her bones creaking as she was rammed hard into the floor, toes curling and legs trembling violently as she helplessly attempted to gaze up at him from under his boot, her hands desperately scooping huge loads of his dark precum off her face to try and breathe in some air and tear open eyelids otherwise glued shut by excess Alpha waste. She rasped and panted and coughed and vomited as dark precum erupted out of her mouth, and she rocked and ground and thrust her hips upwards as best she could, desperately trying to please him as he just plunged a small part of that monstrous, godlike shaft into her, the huge amount of cock still outside of her quivering body seeming to condemn her inadequacy. She was just a mortal cunt, nowhere near ready to serve God.

Her gore, her juices, her blood and other fluids spurted and squelched out of her annihilated ass, but all of them combined barely began to water down the solid darkness of his almighty precum, the streaks of her blood barely visible down the length of the goliath cock that was ravaging and ripping her apart. She wanted to scream his name, but could only gargle and slobber on the dark precum instead as she felt the behemoth cock hammering into her with brutal force, bulldozing her into nothing more than a case for the end of his immense shaft as he snorted and rumbled, superior and contemptuous, hungry and animal as he masturbated with her more than he fucked her. She didn't deserve his actual effort. She had already spilled so many orgasms that her pussy was flexing and clenching dry as it was, anyway.

When she could take no more, he tore his immense shaft back out with a snort of steam from his nostrils, grinning as the monstrous shaft swung violently upwards when it popped free with an obscene, loud slurp… and in so doing the godcock flung a gigantic rope of precum out with such violence that it smacked a chunk of wall over before firing out through the shattered window, arching high past the whole town square and past the roof of the first house on the opposite side, probably smashing down like a meteor into the street further beyond. Athena was too far gone to notice, but Joy let out a cry of awe at that sight, the sight of a god ridiculing all mortals, the sight of a beast without rivals.

Killer then slapped his monstrous godcock lightly in her face, watching down with a smirk as Joy recoiled with a cry of pain and a bruised cheek, but continued to meekly lick up blood and precum and filth, cleaning his cock from Athena's ass. She did her best to lap it all up, showing him just how eager to serve she was… but once again he thrust deep down her throat, fucking her face with relentless hunger. The wet, obscene, frightening cacophony of his cock bulldozing its way up and down her throat, flare literally smashing down into her stomach while she helplessly vomited up dark precum was something for the ages. The sound echoed into the building as the huge male smirked, his eyes burning as he looked down at her, watching as she drowned in thick precum, fountains of the rich fluid erupting out of her stretched-out nostrils, forcing out around the stuck sperms, huge and monstrous, well visible in her deformed, bleeding nose as they tried to bulldoze their way through, while countless others filled her throat and stomach up in a monstrous way, making her whole body bulge, her beauty so easily and quickly ruined and humiliated, her body glistening with sweat and with all the nectar she had helplessly squirted out for him, as well as with the piss that her shuddering bladder had been unable to keep in. But above all she was a messy, shapeless mass of sticky, dense, potent precum, her form forever stinking of him while she choked violently on his filthy, harder-than-steel godcock, blowing bubbles in the thick stuff as she attempted to breathe in some air. He rammed his hips forwards all the harder, thrusting down into her creaking jaws, through the precum, the vomit, the drool, the blood that washed out of her mouth whenever he tore his huge girth backwards, giving some space for the thick mess to overflow, and he squeezed into the back of her skull as he pushed deeper inside, bottoming out in her stomach, causing her whole body to bulge outwards obscenely.

And when her face was pretty much about to cave in, rammed to pieces by his monstrous girth, he yanked out his immense shaft, nearly ripping her stomach up as it clung to his gigantic flare… before he drove that whore-splitter against her tiny pussy, making her shiver like and more than a virgin as that beastly cockhead so utterly dwarfed her poor entrance.

He rammed inside her, disintegrating in one instant every memory of Griagas and all of her past boyfriends, cancelling even the memory of how she had given birth to healthy sons and daughters. He utterly conquered her poor body, his huge muscles flexing idly as he power-fucked her in a way no one else could ever go close to matching.

She shook beneath him, reduced to a shaking, helpless mess, unable to cry, to voice out her ecstasy and her agony, her form crushed beneath his far larger and stronger one as he gave her a punishment, ramming that behemoth obelisk of hypervirility up into her, smashing its way through her organs and pummeling her insides, and the lesson was made all the harsher by his colossal testicles hanging so low and so heavily that they swung into her with every hard thrust from above, smacking her whole body up across the bed as their monstrous weight smashed into her thighs and buttocks, turning both deep red and leaving large bruises all over them. Her legs were shaking so hard, and her toes curling so much that it felt like they might just break apart at any moment, while her whole, strong and proud body now felt like nothing but an overstretched, overwhelmed condom as her stomach bulged more and more with every thrust and with every blast of his essence, as she heard and felt her bones creaking, her breaths coming weak and erratic, her heart staggering in its beats as she struggled to survive beneath the ruthlessness of his domination, her eyes every so often darting downwards to spy the endless tower of black meat that still loomed out of her body. Oh, how easy it would have been for him to destroy her completely…

Her poor cunt flexed and clenched uselessly… or at least it attempted to, too far stretched out around his girth to manage to flex with any real force. Orgasm after orgasm wrecked her, leaving her helpless, not even aware of them anymore, feeling them resounding through her body but unable to fully register and enjoy them as her savaged passage spewed out little droplets of nectar, her sex having already cried out all its “tears" of pleasure-pain. The little dribbles of juice only served to add another note to the cacophony of squelches and wet sounds of his cock pistoning hard in and out of her.

He used them for a time that they could not possibly quantify, relentlessly pounding them, moving from one to the other as the two females trembled beneath him, their holes gaping obscenely and endlessly leaking out rivers of his thick essence. He shocked them with the mind-blowing sight of his enormous cockhead ripping out of their prolapsed holes. He hefted them up like dolls and bounced them up and down his obelisk of a cock. He laid down on the bed and smashed his cock up into them sideways. He fucked them in every possible way, demolishing the room and furniture in the process, and when they finally felt his immense cock stiffening even further, swelling even more apocalyptically massive, they trembled in fear and anticipation, huddled up beneath his hulking form as he snarled and crushed both of their faces into the bed, one hand on each skull as he pleasured himself with their bodies, thrusting faster, harder, faster, harder, rumbling with animal lust until he erupted the first colossal load of his cum, unleashing a great blast that made the earlier precum shots look like dribbles.

He was fucking Athena when it happened, and he reached down to wrap his huge arms around her, hands gripping into her breasts and crushing them into deformed ruins as he snarled-grinned, feeling the small female rocking forwards against his grip, pushed away by the sheer enormity of his cumshot. Had he not restrained her, he would have shot her off like a cork. His thick, ultrapotent cum blasted through her body, impossible to contain, and her eyes bulged as she vomited an enormous projectile of cum across the room, the uninterrupted geyser of semen smashing into the wall opposite and nearly knocking it down into pieces. Her body couldn't hold him and quickly turned into little more than a conduit for his cum as that first blast alone lasted four countless long moments, while her ruined belly swelled further and further with his load, even as so much of it exploded back out of her devastated holes, as well as out of her mouth.

“Take it, bitches! Fuckin'' take it!" Killer taunted, yanking out of Athena and plunging right deep into Joy's ruined pussy, while his very first blast still carried on, and on, and on. “This is how I purge the world of worthless vermin like your Griagas!"

He snarled, and his first enormous blast was followed by a second which was, if at all possible, even greater. And again. Again and again and again he unleashed more of his rich, potent semen. When he was done filling up their insides he tore out of them and unleashed blast after blast all over them, drenching them both and the rest of the room, sending meteors of semen smashing into the walls and even the ceiling, coating the walls in thick layers of his omnipotent essence.

When finally the deluge slowed down, minutes had passed, and the huge male grinned widely as he rolled his massive shoulders and leisurely stroked his titanic shaft, pumping out the last heavy rope of dark, hyperpotent cum while the two females collapsed backwards into a bed that was now a shapeless, broken mess of thick, sticky semen. Athena and Joy gurgled and gagged, coughing up more and more of the thick stuff to try and clear their airways a little bit, before he smirked and allowed his monstrous cock to swing heavily down, slamming into their bulging bellies and causing enormous blasts of dark cum to spray out of both ends, mouths and holes, while their legs kicked uselessly and weakly at the air.

The gigantic male towered over them, still fully hard and ready for more even as he looked down at a room that was completely ruined, turned into an ocean of his seed, every wall coated and festering with his hot, powerful gunk and with sperms that were much, much larger than the already colossal ones in his precum.

They looked up at him, weak, stupid and leaking cum from all ends, blood and juices mixed in with the thick stuff as they breathed weakly, barely alive, their faces battered and so messy that the two tigresses were only distinguishable because of their visible height difference.

“That wasn't too shabby… for foreplay." Killer teased, before he mercifully sat down between them, waiting for them to recover somewhat. It was clear he was going to demand more, and his immense cock made that clear by standing gloriously out from his waist, undiminished and prodigious.

The two females helplessly stared at that frightening godcock looming over them, watching it pulse and throb with power as he rested back into the bed as best he could and lazily stroked it with one big, strong hand. As soon as she was able to, Athena crawled towards the edge of the bed and leaned over to lick the black, immense shaft, rubbing her face into it and filling her senses with his astonishing power.

“So hot… so huge… so strong…" The tigress whispered, looking up at him with eyes that burned with lust. “I love it", she added, almost purring as her lust dominated all her emotions, dwarfing even the fear that the immense tower of virility inspired in her battered loins.

Joy dragged herself forwards as well, exhausted and wheezing but eager to kiss his cock in thanks… before she reached over to dig into the messy pile of their discarded and now cum-soaked clothes. Killer looked down at her curiously as she picked up a sort of bracelet that he hadn't even noticed on her earlier, and she liked it clean of his cum with eyes that sparkled with lust and playfulness.

“I want to see just how huge you are, Master… try to attach some numbers to this godly beast…" Joy hoarsely whispered, before holding up the bracelet with a wide smirk.

Killer looked at it with a puzzled frown, and Joy tilted her head to the side and curiously asked: “Don't you recognize it…? It is a piece of your merchandise."

“Oh, hell." Killer amusedly replied, chuckling a bit before nodding. “Yeah, I remember now. But it's from a few years back now, and I've… put out so much of this crap. I don't care much for all the merchandise and stuff, actually. It is just really funny to… well. I'm gonna tell you, even though you have bought one. It's just funny for me to see how much money people are willing to spend on this stuff."

“Fair enough. It'll amuse you to know that I paid extras for this: shipment to the Northlands from the South is still a bitch, even these days." Joy cheerfully commented, before pulling out a tape measure hidden inside the bulky bracelet, and unrolling it out, foot after foot after foot. The tape measure was sized on Killer's monumental cock size, and the accessory was a size queen tool meant to humiliate lesser males… or worse.

Athena licked her lips and helped Joy unroll the long tape, holding it near the base of Killer's titanic black cock as he smirked and rested back lazily, legs spread wide for them… and when the tape ended at an astonishing 186 inches, the two tigresses gaped because several more feet of godlike cock towered past it. “Told you… it's from a few years back. I wasn't 30-some feet tall when they made that toy…" Killer easily commented, before grinning as the two females moved the tape upwards.

“2… 216…" Athena read out, paling at the thought and sight of that godlike immensity, while Joy just gaped in stunned awe. “216 fucking enormous inches…! You truly are god… you came among us puny mortals to remind us of how truly puny we are…" Athena breathed, shaking her head slowly.

“I'll have to have a new one made." Killer easily commented, before gently taking the bracelet out of their hands and dismissively throwing it aside, while Joy gripped into his legs and nuzzled the base of the goliath shaft, loudly sniffing up his rich, masculine musk. “Even your smell… even your big, sweaty balls stench is big. Fills the fucking room in one moment! So strong… so good…"

“Fuck, Killer… this is just unbelievable… tell me the truth, you are a god who decided to reshape this world. What will this cunt-breaker do, huh…? Breed all us lesser beings out of existence to replace us with superior beings…?" Athena teasingly breathed, before grinning with a shiver as she dreamily commented: “Fuck, I can't get over the thought that you can cock-slap people into mush like flies. It's insane!"

“It is… but I enjoy it all. A little too much, in fact." Killer easily replied. He loved his unmatched sizes and his tremendous, otherworldly, supernatural power, but sometimes he wished he could tune himself down a few notches somehow. He had, after all, literally outgrown the South. His cock was just too monstrously huge to fit into small, squishy southern women in any way without turning them into pulp. He had grown constantly, year after year, but now he was truly too overpowered and overwhelming to stick around further in the south. Down there he was a titan in a world of frail, helpless miniatures… and that probably was the real main reason why he had started traveling towards home. He needed larger and stronger prey.

He squeezed into his titanic girth, thinking of all the lives he had utterly destroyed with his cock alone, of all the destruction he had caused, at how much he had reshaped the world. It was exciting to know that he was too large, too strong, too much for the rest of the world to handle. It was arousing, and thrilling, to look down at the others and see toys, frail playthings that couldn't comprehend his strength and, more and more, addressed him as a god. That was their explanation for his absurd strength and excessive virility… and while Killer had never really cared for any religion, he was admittedly pretty pleased whenever somehow attributed to him such otherworldly might and superiority. Who wouldn't…?

Part of him wanted even more size, even more power… another part of him hoped and prayed that even his constant growth would finally end. He was getting truly too massive to live his daily life without all sorts of problems. Nothing really fit him unless it was custom made, and the fact that most of the world's cunts and assholes could not possibly survive his penetration had obvious downsides. He tried not to think too much about it, since his growth was something outside of his control. He smirked instead as he looked down at the two tigresses. They were too small and weak to properly deal with him. No one could deal with him. But they were alive and eager and adoring, even if exhausted and broken, so he rumbled a little and idly stroked the base of his behemoth member. Before teasing: “Since I see you so lively, let's get on with more serious matters now, shall we…?"

The huge male rolled around, lying down on his side and pulling lithe Joy close to his chest, guiding his immense black cock towards her gaping, ruined sex and lightly biting at her ear as she gasped, chest heaving in anticipation. Athena squeezed, kissed and massaged his colossal balls as they rested heavily on the bed, and he began to drive his great shaft inside the smaller tigress, gritting his fangs in a snarling grin.

He resumed from where he had stopped earlier, fucking them a bit more gently now, making an effort to restrain and contain his tremendous strength and treating them a bit more delicately… but he still pumped himself ruthlessly in and out of their hot, quivering, soaked bodies.

Inizio modulo

Athena and Joy were soon too lost in their world of mixed agony and ecstasy to have any way to guess how long it lasted. Hours? Days? They couldn't know. They could only stare up at him, lost in a painful but wondrous oblivion as the huge, hulking, handsome male played with their bodies and with their very lives, grinning down at their stupefied faces, at their barely conscious minds, at their teary, rolled-up eyes, as he kept ramming into them with world-shattering force, his cock completely drenched in their orgasm nectar, in their blood, and above all else in his own almighty masculine essence, which washed everything else away with plentiful flood waves. The two tigresses were lost in an erotic trance, minds numb, bodies trembling uncontrollably, eyes helplessly fixed on him, on his glory as he continued to relentlessly piston his massive, prodigious cock in and out of them, never stopping, never hesitating, only slowing down to gyrate his hips and grind his immensity into them, screwing their devastated holes with his monstrous girth, while they stared in speechless stupor at just how much more cock was still towering out of their ruined, prolapsed holes, their minds quaking in front of that excessive display of hypervirility, their bodies spasming uncontrollably with the awareness that, if he so wished, he could just ram himself in to the hilt… impaling them both as a consequence, skewering them both at once on his immense cock like they were nothing but tender morsels of meat.

And they were, weren't they…? Fresh meat for him to devour, as they trembled in an adoring stupor, prisoners of bodies that they no longer had any control upon, as their eyes helplessly rolled in her head and their dislocated, stupidly-gaping maws drooled out rivers of almighty male essence festering with sperms of absurd sizes and power. They could only shake and tremble beneath him, shuddering, gargling, crying out incoherently as they were pummeled again and again and again, the male relentless and powerful as a jackhammer. He was simply glorious, his muscles bulging with power, looking even greater and stronger than when he had started, and the weaker the two girls became, the stronger he seemed to get. He was insatiable, greedy, invincible, continuing to thrust in and out of them even though their wombs had already been well and utterly claimed and flooded by godlike amounts of omnivirile gunk that was almost solid due to how absurdly full of hypersperms it was.

Both their bodies, that had been slender and toned and strong, now were bulging grotesquely, their bellies far, far larger than it had even been during their past pregnancies. There was no need for any test to know they were full of ligers: they could both feel unholy amounts of gigantic sperms festering inside them, wild and savage and untamed, true expression of Life.

Athena and Joy barely looked like living beings, distorted as they were into rotund mockeries of their former selves. Their poor, annihilated holes quivered, not even trying to flex closed, stretched and gaped out far too much for that to ever happen…and their poor vaginas continued to helplessly twitch, in an attempt to clench closed with yet another orgasm, the hundredth, the thousandth… they had long lost count, and their poor holes had cried out so much in ecstasy that now not a single drop was left to be spilled.

And yet he pounded them, again and again and again, thrusting into bodies that had already been filled far beyond what normal persons should have been able to survive. Their forms were so bloated with his omnipotent load of cum that they felt almost loose even around his monstrous girth, as he slammed deep into rippling lakes of his own semen. Deluges of thick semen cascaded, burst and blasted out around his monstrous shaft whenever he yanked his tower of black meat backwards, but the constant oozing of precum from his prodigious cock re-filled them up before they could in any way deflate, even as their bulging bellies shook, jiggled and flexed, their abs separated and helplessly flexing as they vainly attempted to get back in place.

Athena and Joy were pinned down by those endless reservoirs of hypervirility, and their bodies were immobilized on the bed, ludicrously large and fat and heavy and full, yet he kept going, still hungry, still eager. His hulking musculature looked even more impressive and perfect now that it was covered by a light sheen of sweat, which had nothing to do with fatigue. He was grinning down at them, muscles bulging with tremendous power, balls swinging heavily back and forth, looking larger and heavier than before, still churning with endless amounts of hyperpotent masculine essence as he pumped hard, fast, pistoning back and forth with relentless force as he savaged them with his cock. They were shocked awake from their ecstasy only whenever he yanked himself out to change girl, and their backs arched with loud cries of awe-pain at the feeling of his behemoth godcock dragging itself loose from their ruined bodies, every time popping out with loud, obscene squelches and great deluges of hot semen that gushed out endlessly, only ceasing when he was back to plug the used-up hole again with his monstrous flare.

He effortlessly hefted their bodies up, fucking them in the standing position. He pretty much masturbated with their helpless, shuddering forms. He fucked them sideways. He mounted them. He pounded them in every possible way, alternating between their holes and reshaping them into nothing but perfect fucktoys for his enormous godhood.

Days? Years? It could have been anything for Athena and Joy, who were lost in a haze of wild desire, pleasure and pain, their minds dazed and broken and unable to understand, to keep track of anything other than the need to be his living, screaming toy, his fuckmeat, his ruined onahole.

It could have been seconds, or minutes, or hours: it was all a haze of wild desire and pleasure, the girls dazed and broken minds unable to process it, unable to do anything but be his living, screaming fuckmeat.

But then, finally, Athena's feet kicked weakly at the air, body shuddering violently and toes curling as she gasped breathlessly, exhausted and broken as she almost swam in the dense, hot, hyperpotent male-gunk that gushed out of her cratered ass and apocalypsed vagina. His dark semen was everywhere, literally, coating the walls and ceiling in thick layers of masculinity, sloshing on the floor, so hot and potent that it was literally rotting the wooden beams and furniture and seemed to all but ruin even the stone and concrete. He was surprisingly gentle in pushing her down onto the bed with one hand, letting her touch down softly into the utterly cum-soaked mattress as he pulled his monstrous shaft back. She realized with a little cry of awe that she had been aloft all that time, impaled on his shaft, her weight completely insignificant to his glorious godcock. She hissed breathlessly as he carefully pulled his monumental flare out of her prolapsed vagina, even though the sight of that bloodstained god-killing weapon emerging from her folds was still enough to nearly make her faint, especially as she stared at the huge river of mixed juices and fluids that roared its way out of her.

Athena let out a little cry of ecstasy and agony, quivering as the gargantuan black shaft idly slapped against her head and incredibly fat, inflated belly, causing a veritable explosion of semen out of her gaping holes… and it took her a while to realize that Killer was smiling down at her and Joy, snorting in entertainment as he leisurely stroked his omnipotent cock, still hard and stiff and fully ready for more.

“You did pretty well." The huge male commented, and to their ears it sounded like the greatest of honors. “You survived, even though I got a little rougher than I needed to be. That's definitely not something that all bitches can claim…"

Even those words, coming from him, were nothing but a message of glory and blessing for them. They stared at him as he chuckled a bit and walked over to the door of the bathroom, and it took them a few long moments to realize that he was filling up the tub with hot water and balsams to prepare a hot bath.

The rush of the water filling the tub didn't really stand out against the gushing cascades of heavy semen rushing out of them, and their minds still spun and pounded, their bodies still trembling in time with the hard thrusts of his cock. He was no longer pounding them, but he had gone at it for so long, and so powerfully, that they were going to tremble for many more hours.

They dozed off for the exhaustion while he got things ready, and when he walked back into the room he took a moment to smile softly at the sight of the two females sprawled size by side on the bed, snoring loudly as thick ropes of his essence still cluttered their airways.

He walked towards the bed, grumbling a bit because he felt like he was walking in drying concrete and glue: his thick cum sloshed on the floor and it was so dense and sticky that it clung to his feet and almost glued him in place. He loved his own otherworldly hyperpotency, but it was a literal hell to clean up… which was genuinely part of the way why he had never quite settled down in a single place. He liked to wander from estate to estate – most of them used to belong to his cuckolds and paypigs, who had handed them to him along with their wives and daughters… -, leaving the hellish job to his slaves.

Much as that remained a delightful way to live, it was time for change in his life. He needed to think a little less about his selfish pleasures and a bit more about his responsibilities, especially since his homeland was once again in trouble. He had to do something about that… and since he wanted to be entrusted again with the defence of Kesteven, he needed to clear up his name and reputation, too. His father was not going to let him touch Wyvern, the ancient and legendary crimson sword passed down through the Huxley generations, if he didn't first pick up the pieces of his honor and put them back together. The North worshipped strength… but even the North had little admiration for someone who had no better use for his godlike strength than mindless, selfish rampage.

He looked down at Athena and Joy, making a bit of a grimace. He had very nearly killed them, when they had treated him like a friend, lover and savior. He had started out gentle, and meant to stay gentle… but he didn't like pulling back his punches all the time, and he had ended up being rougher than he should have been. Sure, he had not beaten them and had been careful enough to always stop short of actually ripping them into shreds with his cock… but that was it. They deserved better than that… they had given him everything they had, after all. They had done their part. It was not their fault that he was so monstrously oversized and so absurdly powerful.

“Sorry, girls. I got a bit carried away." The hulking male whispered, leaning down to gently take their dislocated jaws in his hands, giving them an almost apologetic smile as he warned: “This will hurt, but will make it better."

The two girls barely registered his words and hadn't really any energy left to prepare in anyway, but they barely flinched at all as he dragged their dislocated jaws back in place. The pain was really nothing compared to the experience of his immensity obliterating their tailholes. “Sorry. Snake-jaws are required to handle me." Killer playfully remarked, before gently picking them up, one in each arm, their body weight the same as a feather for his huge muscles… and Athena managed to force one eye open, despite the thick ropes of dark cum glueing her eyelids shut.

“Shhh. Thank you, my king and my god, for having me… even though I'm not worthy." The tigress whispered, her voice weak and hoarse and broken because of the thick gunk cluttering her throat. “I just wish we… we could tire you out, at least a little bit."

“You'll need to bring lots and lots of friends to have any chance. Lots." Killer easily replied, smirking as he made his way back to the bathroom. “But thank you for trying. You've been a delicious snack."

“Hope we can get good enough to be the main course, one day…" Joy whispered, her lips curling up in a smile. Athena let out a little moan of agreement, then reached forwards with one trembling hand, vainly trying to squeeze into his towering, monumental black shaft, feeling it still harder than titanium, still more than capable to literally fuck them through walls of reinforced concrete. She shook her head slightly, and breathed: “Is it even possible to tire you out at all…?"

Killer only smirked, and they shivered, knowing that it was no arrogance on his part. They had seen the movies known as “the Hundreds series", in which he literally filled up wombs for 24 hours straight, no pauses, not even to piss. He used the eager mouths of his fucktoys for that. The first episode had him filling one hundred wombs in 24 hours, then 200, then 300. In order to fit 300 wombs in one day he had had to devote just about 4 minutes to each girl, but that had been the only problem. By the end of the marathon, he still put in a special scene in which he masturbated to release an extra, enormous load, just to prove he still had it in him. Those movies were the ones which had truly precipitated the South into terror because they made clear that he could truly breed other races out of existence… especially since reserving one of his orgasms for each female was literally only a wasteful demonstration of his power. In truth, he could literally fill up wombs with even just his piss, so full of Alpha-waste sperms it was.

That was why he was considered a god by so many people: his power was definitely otherworldly. Even here in the Northlands, among members of his own race, he was a colossus, a deity, a titan that nobody could possibly rival. Athena and Joy were given another demonstration of that monstrous superiority when he held them aloft above the toilet and gently used two of his thick, strong fingers to push into their bulging, enormous bellies, causing them to shiver hard as enormous cascades of his dark semen gushed out of their holes and crashed loudly down into the toilet, filling it up in mere instants and overflowing out of the top of the seat even as he winced and hit the flush.

He flushed the toilet again as soon as it was possible to do so, but he half-groaned and half-laughed at how pathetic a show it was as the water miserably failed at pushing away the thick mass of dark gunk and hyper-sperms.

“I don't think it is going to work…" Athena teasingly observed, eyes fixed on the hordes of gigantic hyper-sperms that had utterly clogged up the toilet: Thick head, solid and armor-like body coated in acid, destructive essence of hyper-testosterone, powerful tail, not a single one of them shorter than 2 feet-some. Looking at those beasts it was not difficult at all to believe that he could fill up the wombs of women thought completely sterile…

“No, but before the tub also clogs up I'd like you two to be able to clean up some." Killer easily replied. It was so normal a fact for him to fill up literal tubs with his alpha produce, that he didn't even stop thinking of how amazing it sounded to others, and he pretty much entirely missed the irony in her comment. “This is why I never stick around for the cleaning up." The huge male grumbled, giving up on the hopeless toilet and just letting his dark cum cascade down to the floor, enjoying their quiet moaning as more and more and more omnipotent cum rushed out of them until, finally, the two female's bellies were almost back to normal proportions, their stretched-out abs sore but back in place after being almost ripped apart with how cruelly they had been inflated with semen.

He turned carefully around in the small room, his towering, gigantic cock slapping heavily into the wall opposite, rattling it, and he grumbled a bit about the discomforts of hypervirility… but, in truth, he definitely loved even the daily struggles that came with his apocalyptic sizes, and he would have never traded them away for anything else.

He gently put Athena and Joy down into the hot water, which bubbles with soap and balsams, and they winced a little at the feeling of the hot water on their cratered, ruined holes… but they nonetheless relaxed with a shiver, slumping against the opposite ends of the tub, their legs touching together so that they could clearly feel each other trembling hard still from the force of his relentless thrusts.

The water immediately began to get think and dense and dark with the immense amounts of his semen that drenched their bodies and the even greater amounts that still leaked out of their gaping holes, but it was nonetheless an improvement, and they weakly reached forwards to scrub each other's off, slowly cleaning up their bodies from the accumulated layers of his hypervirility.

He stood there for a few moments, watching their slow, weak movements and smirking in entertainment as, whenever they lightly squeezed or pushed on their bellies, the water level increased and the water turned dull black, filling up with his potent essence and massive sperms. He lend them a hand, scrubbing their backsides and helping them change the water in the tub… at least until the drain inexorably became clogged up with his thick gunk.

Slowly, though, the two girls recovered somewhat and even managed to clean each other up, while he walked back into the bedroom to get rid of the bloodstained, cum-soaked sheets, crumpling them up in messy, leaky balls and hurling them in the corner near the door before pulling out fresh sheets from the cupboard.

Since the very mattress was utterly soaked, that was a little less than desperate temporary measure, but at least he'd have a place where to put the girls to rest after their bath. When he was done he walked back in the bathroom, and the two tigresses moaned weakly at the sight of his godlike, gargantuan cock still fully hard and hungry, jutting gloriously ahead of him, curved downwards under its own monstrous weight but jumping up with tremendous majesty whenever it powerfully throbbed and flexed. The huge male's shaft was still leaking a thick, huge rope of precum as he grunted and lazily flexed, arching his back and stretching out while that incredibly rope of hypervirile gunk splattered against the floor, without even breaking. Gallons of hyper-fertile masculine essence sloshed down into the thick lake already covering the floor, literally dwarfing the whole-life production of semen of a million “average" males put together. For Killer, however, that was just some Alpha waste being dumped, and he literally paid no attention as he reached out to open the water instead. Unsurprisingly, even though the place had been built for tigers, the shower head was too low for him to fit under him, and the shower stall was ridiculously narrow and undersized for him. Still better than in the south, anyway…

Killer pretty much squatted to be able to let the water rush down his upper body, helping himself to a generous load of soap and arching his back to push his groin under the water as he started scratching the thick, luscious, curly hair going down from his navel to the base of his immense cock. The two girls watched on in awe, licking their lips at the sight of him rubbing his gigantic shaft clean, washing off unholy amounts of blood and juices and his own thick, dark precum… before they gasped at the sight of his hulking muscles flexing and bulging as he stretched and washed down his spectacular physique.

“We… we are very sorry we can't help you… We'd love to… scrub your body… if we had any hint of strength left." Athena softly said, and Joy nodded in eager agreement. The huge male smirked in entertainment at that, giving a little nod and teasingly replying: “I bet you would, yeah… but don't worry, there will be other chances."

They didn't dare asking whether that meant he was going to stay and become the king of Kendrew, but they hoped for it, and traded a weak but overjoyed smile. If he decided not to stay, they were going to follow him anyway, whenever he decided to go: serving him was now their only wish and purpose in life and they had absolutely no intention of heading back to their boring and sometimes sad previous life. Besides, their escape from the royal palace had probably been reported, considering how much time had passed, and king Griagas was undoubtedly furious… and he wasn't the kind of person who lets go of a grudge. Like all kings who had secured a throne with the help of an army, he was particularly worried about betrayals, and obsessed by the nightmare of someone coming to take his kingdom away. He was going to go mental about their escape, and they had always known that their travel was a one way trip, unless they could find a new king for their homeland.

They had left Kendrew full of hope but terrified, knowing that the soldiers who “escorted" them out of the royal palace were going to exact a hefty price from them, and their “plan" had been little more than a dream. They didn't really know where to go and who to contact… finding the infamous Killer Huxley, the Legend, “Wyvern", the “Slayer of Dark", the “Savior", the “champion of the North", had been a major stroke of luck for them.

They were no longer afraid. He might or might not decide to save their homeland… but they were his now, and they were safe. Killer was a caring Master and he would make sure he was the only one who could hurt them. No one else in the world would be able to harm them in any way as long as they were his.

Athena, Joy and Killer washed themselves as best they could, until both the tub and the shower's drains were utterly and irremediably clogged. Killer walked out of the shower with a grumble, his monstrous cock still undiminished and fully hard, and he fetched all the towels he could find, before helping the exhausted, trembling girls out of the tub. Fine modulo

Inizio modulo

He gently drained and toweled them, and finally carried the two exhausted females back to the bed, wrapped in the towels, with the largest one they had been able to find now draped around his waist, absolutely unable to hide the goliath black cock that still stubbornly refused to go down to full flaccidity. It still pointed out proudly from his waist, burdened down to an angle by its own monstrous weight. The huge male was clearly ready for more, but Athena and Joy had only strength of spirit left: their desire was intense, but their bodies were sore, spent and unable to take any more.

They apologized for it, but he gently shushed them as they laid down in bed together, huddled together, his arms easily holding them close, their heads resting on his powerful chest, their hands sluggishly, tremblingly attempting to at least stroke the monstrous godcock.

He was capable of not just great care but also of a remarkably light and gentle touch when he wanted, and that was an unexpected feature in someone so extraordinarily massive and powerful. He laid down on the too-small bed, covering all of its width and with his feet pushing out well past the end of it, and they rested comfortably huddled against his sides. He idly played with the long bangs of their hair, petting them, stroking their heads with kindness, soothing them after the fiery sex, and they rested like that, in quiet silence, for a good few moments. The two females gently massaged his bulging, powerful muscles, planting little kisses on his huge arms and his broad chest, silently thanking him for the life-changing experience he had gifted them… and they stared up at the enormous, fully-erected, steel-hard cock that towered above them like a dark obelisk of hypervirility, admiring it with a mix of awe, adoration and submissive, slavish fear.

Before they knew it, they began to quietly tell Killer about the life back in Kendrew, about how Griagas had turned the town-fortress into a sort of massive, unhappy factory that was busy mass-producing RA vehicles, weaponry and equipment. Ammunition was being stockpiled in great abundance and Griagas was doing his best to expand his army and recruit more and more warriors. He was also trying to increase the population of Kendrew by filling up his Forbidden Females, which was what every king of the north was supposed to do... but when it came to that chapter of the story, Joy laughed, lightly massaging the towering, almighty black shaft and revealing a darkly sarcastic side of her as she started telling Killer just how superior he was compared to their tyrannical king.

Killer listened with a little smirk, not surprised in the slightest. It was always nice to hear it said loud and clear by others, however, so he only nodded silently, letting the two females tell their stories.

“… you are literally four times bigger than him, while you are still flaccid. Maybe more than four times." Joy finally whispered, and Athena let out a lustful purr of confirmation.

“Well, then he must actually be a big boy. It's often worse than that, after all…" Killer playfully commented. If Joy was right, Griagas sported roughly 40 inches of meat, which was a pretty hefty measure, even between the largest tigers. It just utterly paled in front of Killer's monstrous godcock, that was all. After a moment of silence, he laughed a bit and teased: “I'd actually like to see you two on his bed for one last time… just to see his face when he tries to fuck you and his dicklet gets lost into your gaping cunts."

“Oh, fuck. That would be wild." Athena exclaimed, laughing at the thought, at least until her sore body protested with a flare of pain, and she rested back against him, wheezing a bit.

He gently ran the towels down their bodies, draining them as best he could, while Joy made fun of the messy state of his masculine mane now that it was all wet from the shower. For a while, they quietly enjoyed a beautiful, relaxed aftermath, so peaceful and tender compared to their sex, which had been so wild and furious… But, of course, they knew all too well that even that had been tame and gentle for the huge male's standards. He had pulled back his punches, and they had to be thankful for that, even if it ashamed them more than a bit. They would have loved to be able to serve him better… in that moment, and for the rest of their lives, it was the most important mission of their existences.

Athena and Joy slowly recovered some energies, and picked up one towel each, finding a mostly dry corner and then beginning to slowly, lovingly caress his immense, towering cock, draining it not just and not so much from the water still on it, but from the thick, plentiful, hypervirile gunk that was still leaking copiously out of his vast cockmaw. He threw his head back into the cushions with a little snort of entertainment at their soft touches, and then squeezed them a bit harder against his sides, teasingly whispering: “What now, bitches…? Are you teasing the beast...?"

“I could never be that daring!" Athena swiftly answered, smiling lovingly as she rubbed the soft towel down one large, bulging vein. “I can't take anymore, while this Beast is powerful and ready and invincible…"

“Too big, too hard, too strong… it looks even bigger and stronger than before…" Joy added, smirking and rolling her head slowly, just to grind her cheek against his hulking musculature. “We are nowhere near ready."

“Well, then It's better if you let it dry on its own, or I'll never be able to pull my jeans up again. And if you keep teasing me, I decline responsibility for what might follow." Killer easily remarked, grinning slightly… then falling silent for a few moments, thinking of what he should do next. Kendrew called to him with surprising force and intensity. Was that the call of his destiny? Was he about to take the right decision, for once…? The last seven years had been an orgy of glorious pleasure and selfish satisfactions, but he really felt the need for change. He really felt the need to become something better than a rampaging monster. Finally, while looking straight up at a ceiling that was very impressively caked with his thick, dense, hyperpotent dark cum, which was now starting to drip heavily down and coming down in long, tough ropes, he softly asked: “Are you still sure you want me as your new king…? As you've seen, I'm going to be a very demanding king."

Athena and Joy beamed, their faces glowing with happiness despite their complete exhaustion, and they put in a big effort to climb up his mountain-like chest until they could kiss him on the cheeks.

“This only makes us even more eager. We have no doubts at all. You are born to be THE king. And we'd be mad if we didn't ask you to grant us the honor of being the first of your loyal subjects." Athena softly replied, before Joy added: “And we hope you'll always be this demanding!"

Killer laughed at that, rocking them gently in his arms and then turning first to Athena, then to Joy, to kiss them hungrily, passionately, his tongue invading their mouths, dominating their tongues and savoring his own bitter, powerful taste into their throats.

And then, after a few long moments of that affection, he slowly sat up, grunting a bit as he arched his back lazily, but instinctively counterbalanced that immense weight that towered up from his crotch, as the semi-hard godcock listed slightly forwards. The proud behemoth godcock flexed, barely able to pull up its immense, flared head because of its own calamitous weight, and he carefully slid himself down the bed's length, not to disturb any of the exhausted women on either side of him.

The colossal cock jutted at a majestic angle from his waist, pretty literally touching the wall in front of the bed as Killer grunted and dragged himself forth until he was sitting at the very edge of the bed, trying to ignore the way it groaned and creaked. His immense testicles thrummed, heavy and glorious, but he half-winced as, in their enormous sizes, one was caught under him. He rolled his hips further forwards to free those almighty orbs and his Moon-like balls obligingly rolled themselves loose, thumping loudly as they dropped over the edge of the bed, causing the two girls to shiver and gasp in awe at the heavy, ponderous sound and at the impact that shook the bed as they smacked into the wooden structure.

He stood up and lazily stretched, huge muscles bulging explosively, and then he turned around to gently kiss both girls on their foreheads and a teasing lick up the cheek, before finally announcing: “Well, then it is time for me to become king. Thank you, girls. You've helped me turn a corner."

And he was convinced he truly had taken a new direction, this time. Now that the decision was taken, he felt better already. He had a mission, a purpose other than hedonistic, selfish pleasure, and he knew that, when he had a mission, it was much easier for him to stay focused and behave with honor, rather than like a feral beast. This could be a new beginning for him… he could write new pages in his personal history, and hopefully redeem his honor and, at least in part, maybe even his soul. He could help the people of Kendrew, and lead them to a better future. He could help his father, and keep Kesteven's southern border secure. They were all worthy aims.

Athena and Joy, his unlikely but invaluable little angels, had turned a lazy pub stop into a real chance for change.

Immediately, he was back in his old mindset of leader of armies. He knew Kendrew enough to know that it would be difficult, even for him, to get anywhere near the Royal Palace if Griagas cowardly locked himself into the fortress in the middle of the three lakes. And Griagas might well be tempted to do exactly that: he had overlooked the matters of honor and the rules of tradition already to secure his throne; why should he not act the same way to maintain it?

Killer needed to issue a public challenge. The army had to be aware of it, so that Griagas's attempt to shy away from a duel would make of him a coward in front of all of his troops. If even just a proportion of the troops refused to ease the cowardly actions of their king, Killer could expect to find an open path into the city. Immediately, he called up the officer that had been busy licking the floor downstairs clean of his bloody footprints. The warrior's eyes bulged in horror at the sight of the oceans of dark cum coating floor, walls and even ceiling of the comfortable but now devastated room, but he was greatly relieved to learn that he had not been called up for more cleaning.

Instead, Killer asked him to bring up the Bergen that was secured to the flank of his motorbike. Since his boxers had been ripped into shreds by his growing cock, he needed a replacement… and the time it took was invaluable, because finally his goliath cock began to soften, until he was able to awkwardly struggle back into underwear and jeans.

While he secured the belt with his heavy swords, he ordered to send messengers to Kendrew, with the fastest of vehicles, to warn king Griagas “that I'm coming to challenge him, kick his ass, fuck his queen and break his throne. I'll need a new and larger one."

Within moments, a number of soldiers raced away on army motorbikes, and Killer observed the scene from the broken window. The soldiers in the town square had retreated further away from the pub and the APCs had been driven away. They had no intention of standing in the way of a warrior that had issued a formal challenge to their king. Now it was a personal matter: a traditional one on one would be the decisive act. Besides, they had seen enough to know that, even with multiple armoured vehicles on their side, they did not have good chances of survival in a fight against the liger. Maybe they could stop him, but how many of them would survive to tell the tale…? Probably very few. Nobody seemed eager to dare the chances.

Finally, everything was ready. Killer picked up the last bottle with some liquor left in it, and drank all the whisky down in a long gulp, while Athena and Joy stared at him with trepidation, anticipating the great things that lay into the future.

Killer walked towards the door, and stopped briefly on the threshold just to gently say: “You stay here, and rest. Sleep and recover, because I want you lively and hungry to celebrate my victory in a few hours. I'll come to take you back home."

They thanked him, and saluted him… but didn't wish him good luck, because, as Athena said: “You don't need luck to take down Griagas. It would be offensive to even imply otherwise!".

In a moment, they fell asleep, utterly exhausted as they were. Killer smiled softly, looking over them with affection for a few brief moments, and then he walked out, carefully shutting the door without making a noise. The soldiers formed a guard of honor, lining up on either side of the exit, saluting him as he walked towards his destiny. And even the wolf looked at him with a mix of fear and hope: Killer was more dangerous, by far, than all other tigers. But unlike other tigers, he had treated him with respect, doggy nickname aside, and he had no interest in pointlessly showing off his strength by beating and bullying him.

He was different. He could be a monster worse than all others when the mood struck him, and yet… yet, there was something good inside him. There was honor. There were both a vision and a profound love for justice.

Killer was born to be the king. And even the wolf felt that his arrival into Kendrew was a blessing… and a portent of great, great things to come.

Fine modulo