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Richard had been praying before Morton had been taken away, asking for forgiveness on the other man's behalf. He hadn't really expect a thief - much less one as grating as he was - would understand what he was doing was... well, it wasn't right. "Although," he had thought, "I don't suppose he had much of a chance of ever getting married either."

Richard often felt confused about these finer points of his religion. His teachers had said it was because he wasn't smart enough to get them, which he had supposed was true enough. He tried to make up for it though, by always praying and doing what his brothers in the order had told him needed to be done.

Of course, once Morton had been taken away, Richard had kept praying, but for a different reason. It had, after all, been his fault they had been captured, and if anything bad happened to him, well, then he was just as responsible for it as his captors.

Richard didn't keep praying for the thief, though; he prayed for the others as well. Brother Lysander had asked him to give a report - which he had, at least on what he had remembered - and had then filled him in on what had happened, though with the mage's interjecting it hadn't actually been divulged voluntarily.

After Richard and Timothy had been caught, the guards - the goat-man, the green-skinned giant, and the large bear - had gone after the remainder, when they had gone to investigate the tracks. Lysander had, according to Yule, been caught off-guard and had been knocked unconscious in one strike from the bear. Ragnar had fled, but the giant had run to intercept him, and had just missed fleeing. Yule, having neither Lysander's strength nor Ragnar's speed, had simply allowed the goat-man to grab him and take them back to the cells.

Being imprisoned hadn't really been all that different, Richard had decided, to being in a monastery, save for being locked up in a smaller area, and not having to do chores or try to study religious tomes. Although, of course, Lysander had started out giving him orders, coming up with plans to escape, but none had work: the guards, despite appearing to lack intelligence, always seemed to be alerted to any of their attempts at escape. Naturally, they had relied on Morton for some of that, but the thief had seemed to give up rather easily. That had annoyed Lysander - who even when stern, was never that angry - who had grown silent in the last day or so.

Richard sighed, and went back to praying. None of the others had seen William being caught, and Richard prayed that he had been spared and that a rescue had been organised, though he wondered how likely that was going to be.

After a while, Richard dropped on the bed, wincing in pain. With no-one to help him, he'd been stuck in his armour, so had slept terribly and most likely developed bruises along with a strong musk. It had also meant he'd spent as much time as possible sleeping.

Lying on the cot - a strong, crude metal frame with a straw mattress chained to the wall - Richard let his mind wandered. He hoped Morton wasn't going to be tortured. He wondered why it was taking so long for William to get help. He agonised over every detail of the battle he'd had before landing in here, scouring for anything he could have done differently to berate himself with. He wished he understood why his prayers - and presumably Lysander's and possibly even Ragnar's - were going unheeded.

His eyes closed, Richard's head was filled with thoughts of the thief. He'd seen penises before - he'd showered communally his entire life, and of course had tended to horses and other animals - but erect human ones were a rarity. "Are they all as long as that?" he wondered idly. His own was very small: the brothers had said that that was a good thing, it would keep him less focused on carnal pleasures, but now it seems like there was something seriously wrong with him that nobody had told him about.

Jolting awake, Richard quickly rolled out of bed with the skill of a trained soldier, although he still reached to his waist for his confiscated weapon. Someone - Morton, he guessed, as the thief was still absent from his cell - seemed to be yelling quite loudly. Running over to the bars, he called out, "What's happening?"

Yule, who had been sleeping earlier, replied, "No idea, but I think Timothy's rather enjoying himself."

Richard opened his mouth, then deliberately closed it again. He really didn't understand what the old man was talking about - who would enjoy being tortured - but didn't really want to discuss it. Whenever he talked to him, Richard always just ended up feeling more confused than when he started.

He paced nervously, his thoughts filled with racks and whips. If it was happening to him, Richard thought, it would be one thing, but Morton was there because he had failed. Had their captors known this, he wondered, and decided on this as a course of action to break him? Instinctively, he fell back to prayer.

A shadow falling over him, and the sound of metal sliding against stone startled him, and he quickly turned and stood. The goat-man stood there, muscles flexing as his nostrils flared, his muscles straining alongside those of the green giant, whose large, almost boar-like, tusks rubbed up and down as the two opened the door to Richard's cell. Richard hastened the pace of his chanting prayer; some strange fluid - stickier than urine, and creamy - dripped and clung to the ends of their shafts, leaving small, spider-web-like strands between the bars of the door.

Deciding now was the best time for action, between the time the door was open and the two had dropped the door, Richard quickly punched through the gaps in the bar. Heart pumping, he managed to land a blow that winded the goat-man, and narrowly missed the green giant, who bellowed in anger, spittle spraying into the cell.

Quickly, Richard leapt out the opening of the cell door, narrowly missing the flailing arms of the giant, who quickly shoved past the satyr to give chase. Although not a particularly good planner, Richard knew from experience that if it came down to a battle of speed he'd lose, but at least they looked evenly matched strength-wise. Pivoting in place, he braced himself, grabbing the charging monster around the waist.

The two went flying back, Richard's armour shrieking as the combined weight of two muscular, heavy mean forced it to slide over the uneven cobblestone floor.

With the giant recovering first, and the goat-man quickly appearing, Richard closed his eyes and accepted defeat, breathing heavily and the satyr roughly took him by the arms, and the giant by his legs, his body bent in the middle. Jerking and flailing about, he occasionally managed to wriggle loose, but it wouldn't be for long: trapped between the two, there was no escape for his fate for long.

While he was being dragged, Richard noticed the same fluid he'd noticed on their penises was oozing from the goat-man's anus. Richard vaguely remembered seeing something like it on his bedsheets some morning, though some disapproving looks from the older brothers had discouraged him from finding out about it more, though it didn't appear to do any physical harm.

Struggling as much as he did, Richard didn't really follow where they were going terribly well, though he did notice something peculiar.

The bull-man whom he had seen performing some of the patrols was behind one he'd not seen before - a comparatively small, slender one with a long torso and short limbs that if it was based on any animal, it wasn't one Richard knew well - thrusting in and out. The smaller monster's mouth was hanging open, panting, his glassy black eyes glazed over, its penis flopping up and down, the wet, smooth dark-pink flesh contrasted against the creamy fur of his belly, which seemed matted down around his groin. "What kind of place is this?" Richard wondered, closing his eyes and praying for strength.

Suddenly Richard felt weightless, his limbs akimbo, before he crashed down into the ground. The wind was shoved out of his lungs, and he battled to breathe, rasping horribly.

As he spluttered, he heard and felt a warm liquid being poured over him. When it touched his armour, it became cold and chilly, and started to drip through as it slowly dissolved his armour.

As he started screaming in horror, a calm voice, not unlike a lot of the more patient brothers who had tutored him, explained, "It's not going to harm you, Richard; it's just going to get rid of your armour."

Still coughing, and trying to avoid placing his hands into the pool of metal-corroding liquid, Richard turned. The pale, smooth man looked reasonably young, though had a look in his eyes of a much older man. Smiling, he replied, "Now then, when you're recovered, why don't you get up, and mind any rough edges."

It seemed like a reasonable suggestion, so Richard pushed himself up; patches of his armour dropped off him, edges fizzing with cold bubbles. Brushing and shaking off the rest, he took a quick look around. The two monsters who had brought him here were standing in the doorway they had come through, blocking his exit. In the other direction, the man was facing one of two tables, placing a large, empty, glass pitcher down amongst a variety of tools and apparatus. Between the tables was a large bed, the largest and most well-adorned Richard had ever seen.

Through the open door, the smaller of the monster's moans could be heard; the man turned, now holding a jar in which there seemed to be liquid metal floating about. Something from his lessons appeared in Richard's head - quicksilver - as the man placed the jar in amongst the liquid and dissolving armour.

"I imagine the brothers will not be too pleased with you," the man noted, "having your armour destroyed like that."

Richard's face reddened; in his confusion and exhaustion, he'd forgotten that the armour had been a symbol of his acceptance as a paladin of the Holy Hand.

"No matter," the man smiled, "surely the brothers would be happy to see you return without armour, than dead with it?"

"Better to die honourably in battle than return a coward," Richard answered automatically.

"It wasn't really a battle," the man refuted, "just a little alchemy. Oh dear, you look quite bruised; perhaps I should help you take off the rest of your clothes?"

Richard looked around, noting with a sheepish grin that his large frame was rather battered; the fresh air made the cuts he'd gotten sting.

The man seemed to automatically lay his hands on what he was looking for next, a flask of brown liquid. Offering it to Richard, he explained, "This should help heal you quickly."

Richard quickly drank the liquid, coughing slightly as it burned. The strong, spicy liquid almost immediately made him feel better. Handing the empty vial back, Richard started to undress, carefully moving his stiff limbs so he could take off the sodden, slightly rust-stained gambeson.

"My name is Edmund Overton," the man stated, "though perhaps you are already familiar with the name?"

Richard tensed up, reciting what he'd been told when they had set out on this mission, "The Overtons were a powerful family that fell to cavorting with monsters and using dark magics to terrorize the populace until the war in which they were toppled."

Edmund smiled, saying, "Well, that's certainly one way to describe it."

Richard failed to notice the edge to those words, continuing, "I'm a little surprised that the line continued. Are you perhaps a distant relation, or are you just taking the name because you're here with monsters?"

Edmund, fumbling with the laces of Richard's breeches, changed the subject, asking, "What exactly were you brought here to do?"

Richard, knowing enough not to answer the question, helped Edmund to remove his pants. He'd noticed the drain in the floor, and assumed that the two were going to bathe during his interrogation.

"I'm a little surprised," Edmund observed, "that your penis is so small."

"It keeps me from feeling too keenly the sins of the flesh," Richard rattled off, placing his rather large right hand over his genitals.

"I'm sure that's what they told you," Edmund said, "to make you feel better. But I'm sure you've seen other holy men bathe, correct?"

Richard nodded. This wasn't exactly how he had been expecting things to go, and the man surely would have known the answer so there seemed no reason to keep it hidden.

Edmund continued, "And I'm sure you've seen at least one brother whom you've thought highly of with a larger penis than yourself, correct?"

Richard looked askance. "I don't see how this makes any difference," he blurted out. He suddenly felt a bit giddy, and steadied himself.

Nodding, Edmund replied, "You're right, of course. I was merely suggesting that perhaps you'd been misled. Not a lie outright, but a way of making the world easier to cope with."

"The world isn't supposed to be easy," Richard recited. "We're put here to struggle, and-"

"Would you like to know why you're here?" Edmund interjected, his voice sharp.

"I- I suppose so," Richard answered.

Edmund gestured over to the bed, suggesting, "Why don't you take a seat?"

Richard nodded. Even though his bruises were going down and he felt more alert and ready for action than he had in days, he was still quite sore and tired, and didn't think it was wrong to refuse an offer to sit down. His rear sunk down into the soft mattress as Edmund climbed over the bed and began to rub his broad shoulders.

"You're an orphan, correct?" Edmund asked.

Richard retorted suspiciously, "How did you know that?"

"I've learned it from William," Edmund explained. "He was brought here a few days ago. Enough about him for the moment, however; you haven't answered my question."

Biting his lip, Richard answered, "Yes." Playing along may allow him to learn more about what had happened to William and Timothy.

"What were you told about it?" Edmund probed, his lithe fingers working the knots out of Richard's neck.

"My parents both died when I was young," Richard explained, "it's usually what happens."

Edmund scoffed, "Rot!"

Richard shrugged, keeping calm, "Rot or not, it's still the truth."

Edmund squeezed his shoulder a little too tightly, his fingernails digging in to the heavy slab of muscle. "I'm sorry," he stated, "but whoever told you that is a liar, though I'm not too surprised.

"You see, my family traded a great deal with the families William informed me are mostly still in power nowadays. I know enough about them to recognize prominent familial traits when I see them."

"So, you're saying I'm a member of the court?" asked Richard incredulously.

Edmund sighed, "Oh no; I'd say you were the result of some young noble's dalliance with a more 'lowly' maiden, and quickly squirrelled away by the Holy Hand to keep you from siring any children of your own and gaining themselves some leverage in return."

"You're wrong!" Richard bellowed, his fist slamming into the bed.

"It's still the truth," Edmund echoed. "You'll know it, of course; I'll say that this is probably the first time you've been away from properties controlled by the Hand. You'd have always been shooed off somewhere out of sight when a lot of high-ranking government officials were brought around, too."

Richard remained silent; he strained his mind, trying to recall anything like that from his past to serve as a counterexample, but nothing was coming to mind. "That wouldn't prove anything," he replied weakly, his head aching in confusion.

"You're right, of course," Edmund agreed, still sounding content. "But again, I think it speaks against the character of the people whom have been surrounding you your whole life."

"As opposed to you, my warden?" Richard snarled. He rolled back, pinning Edmund to the bed, turning over while using his mass to keep the other man pinned to the bed, holding him down.

Edmund, however, seemed to not be frightened; in fact, he seemed to be quite pleased about something. "I'm so glad I was right about you, I was a bit worried you lacked any sort of fire or passion, constantly praying as you have been. Besides, you've just made this easier."

Before he could reply, Richard felt a cold metal ring snap shut around his neck; in his distracted state, he hadn't noticed the two monsters whom had been guarding the door had quickly approached with some kind of collar. He quickly reached up for it, but his arms were intercepted; the monsters were once again holding him by his limbs, keeping them behind him.

Sliding up against Richard, Edmund ran his hands over his prisoner's muscular form. "This is one of my standard collars," he explained, "that I keep around for fun; I have others that will let me control your body and mind - still fun, of course, but I'm a little bored with them - and I won't hesitate to use them if you get a little too out of hand."

Struggling in vain, Richard could only watch as Edmund rose from the bed, going over to one of the tables, sifting through the strange objects as he searched for some particular items. His wrists gripped tightly, Richard felt the giant's tusked face slide up against him, the monster's mouth leaking warm saliva, which slid over Richard's thick, smooth pectorals.

From the table, Edmund returned with a coil of sturdy rope and a thick strip of black, shiny material; throwing the former at the monsters behind Richard, he commanded, "Tie him up." With the latter, and while the monsters followed his command, Edmund looped the material around his head, turning the strip into a blindfold.

Although he struggled, it didn't take long for the monsters to bind him, tying his limbs together behind his back. The rope strained as he tried to snap it, but it didn't budge. He was placed face-up on the bed, several pairs of hand sliding over his body. One pair forced his mouth open, and a small metal ball was inserted, a leather strap attached to it tied around his face. Another pair rudely forced his buttocks apart, and something smooth, long and cold was slowly worked inside his nether regions. One of the final pair - Edmund, Richard thought, going by their size - slowly rubbed something oily into his body, paying particular attention to his small manhood, which rose off despite of what Richard himself wanted or felt.

The oil smelled strongly of masculine sweat; Richard, having only really been around men his entire life, could easily place the scent. The thing in his rear was probably metal, or at least he hoped; if it was glass it might shatter inside him and he shuddered at the thought. It also made him feel like he needed to use a chamber pot once enough of it was inside him.

A smallish finger roamed over his body; lips wrapped around one of his nipples, the mouth's teeth gently toying with them. The device in his ass slid in further, causing Richard to moan, the sound muffled by the gag.

He prayed in his head, hoping whatever was being done to him would at least pass quickly, and that his god knew that he hadn't assented to any of this if it was a sin.

Richard felt Edmund's weight slide on top of him - he was the only person hairless and light enough to be the body pressing against him - his buttocks pressing against Richard's throat, his penis rubbing between Richard's pectorals, his arms looped around Richard's bound legs, and his open mouth sliding along Richard's short, lubricated erection.

Writhing, Richard tried to stop whatever it was - probably some kind of enchantment or equal devilry - Edmund was trying to do. His penis was throbbing, overcome with sensation; his scrotum was slowly contracting, his testicles being pulled closer to his body. Richard struggled for breath against the gag and the weight of Edmund's body on his chest.

The device in his rear was sucked completely into his body, a wide, flat circle preventing it from travelling in any further. Nostrils flaring, Richard's sense of smell was inundated with masculine musk, causing him to picture naked men, eagerly waiting to get into a bathhouse.

Richard became aware of a pressure in his nether regions; his aroused body seemed to be preparing to release something which was pooling up inside him, causing him to squirm and spasm the higher the pressure became.

Edmund's mouth had released his shaft, only for the man's thumb and index finger to encircle it, quickly jerking it up and down. His own, longer erection oozed something that trickled down Richard's neck.

The pressure was getting intense; Richard's body had gotten hot, his flesh absorbing the oils as he started to sweat. With the lack of oxygen and the intensity of being forcibly violated, his head was swimming. He hoped that when the pressure - whatever it was - was released, that he'd be able to gain some peace.

Edmund's other hand pushed the device in his ass in and out, causing the smooth shaft to repeatedly thrust into Richard. Richard's legs, held open by one or both of the monsters, slapped up against the holding hands as he felt nearly ready to leap out of his skin.

Richard couldn't take much more; his nostrils flared in the urgency of providing enough air for his huge body, but not being able to get enough quickly enough to satisfy his almost boiling body.

The goat-man pulled off his blindfold, just in time for Richard to see the peak of the activity. Edmund had slid off of him, his body oily and his cock throbbing, as the ring his fingers made worked Richard's stubby penis rapidly. His penis looked almost purple as it throbbed, every small touch of the tip making him want to explode. The green giant was holding his legs open, a small iron ring hanging from a string around his neck.

Suddenly, Edmund yanked the ring, the string breaking, and slid it over Richard's penis. The cold metal began to constrict, trapping the pressure inside of him. Richard screamed - as best as he could - in anger, thrashing about; but the ring was already fastened, refusing the release his penis was craving.

The gag was untied from his mouth, the metal ball dripping saliva on his face. Richard could see where his teeth had scuffed the metal, the intensity of the experience almost allowing him to bite through steel.

"What have you done to me?" he bellowed, his voice a little raspy from the limited air in his lungs.

Edmund grinned devilishly, "According to your religion, if I were to continue and you to ejaculate, you'd be sinning and you'd lose your paladin status in the eyes of your god. I figure you should be the one to make that choice."

Richard screamed, straining as the two monsters carried him over to the middle of the room; in the centre of the floor there was a drain, which had been raised, revealing a thick, rust-covered ring. His dick throbbed, the veins sticking out, the ring keeping him trapped in a state of near-release.

Edmund watched, stroking his own erect penis, holding Richard by the face and allowing the sticky, clear fluid it was leaking to drizzle down his chest, following the contours of his abdomen to gather in his navel. He eagerly watched as another monster - the bull-man - entered, carrying a heavy iron chain.

"I don't usually go in for this amount of bondage," Edmund explained, "but you're a very special case." He suddenly froze in place, his eyes shining with an inner light, as he quickly dashed over to the table, quickly moving things, eagerly searching for something he seemed to not use that often.

While Richard struggled, the collar on his neck was attached to one end of the chain; the other was attached to the ring in the drain. The bull-man then went over to one of the tables, picking up a vial of liquid and a sharp knife; the contents were dripped onto the joins in the metal. Richard screamed as the heat from the reaction sizzled against his neck. Despite the constant, distracting throbbing between his legs, he tried to push away from the three other monsters with no luck.

However, the monsters then let him go, the bull-man cutting the bindings around his limbs, which snapped back into their normal positions. The monsters scattered as Richard wildly charged, his mind being clouded by rage and the need to rid himself of the pressure being contained by the ring around his penis.

Richard tested the limits of the chain, screaming and pulling on them with all of his strength, but there was no give in them. He bellowed incoherently; so close to ridding himself of the constant pulses and throbs and pressure, but not wanting to disgrace himself. Edmund and the monsters stayed aggravatingly out of reach as he ran about frenziedly.

Finally, he could take it no longer, and with an agonised scream Richard reached down and squeezed the ring. Creamy goo poured out of his cock in a huge thick arc that made him drop to the floor; the floor hurt, but his mind was awash in pleasurable feelings. He grunted, another huge jet coming after the other as the anger and pressure seemed to dissipate. A third squirt followed; he panted and moaned as the tip of his cock became extra sensitive.

Edmund quickly came over, his hands full of some sparkling dust which he blew into Richard's face. Richard couldn't avoid breathing it in in his body's desperate quest for more air.

The fluids from his body pooling into shimmering, sticky, white blobs on the ground, Richard felt amazingly calm - calmer than he had ever attained during prayer - as the dust made it difficult to focus his thoughts.

Edmund quickly came over with a bottle of the spicy brown drink he had offered Richard earlier, informing him, "You might need to recuperate some fluids. When you're ready, this should refresh you." Leaving the bottle near Richard's leg, he produced a long, thin glass tube, which he used to suck up some of Richard's fluids from the ground, emptying them into a small vial.

Richard, however, barely noticed; his body had continued to burn, though less intensely than it had been, and his mind kept fluttering between thoughts. He knew he should feel guilty - he had disgraced himself and was no longer a paladin - and he knew he should at least try to atone for his sins with prayer, but the powder had kept those feelings from overwhelming him.

His cock still oozed, though it was now feeding into a small puddle near where the tip plopped against the floor. He bent over, pulling out the object that had been pushed into his rear. As soon as he pulled on the disk at the base, the rest fell out with a wet plop, landing on the floor and rolling to one side.

Richard sprawled on the stone, his shaft aching from over-stimulation as it softened. His face throbbed, and despite not really having physically exerted himself that much, he felt drained of energy.

The smaller monster entered - now, all but the bear were wandering about in Richard's periphery - crawling about on all floors, his wet nose sniffing at Richard's body, licking him in ticklish or sensitive places that made him squirm feebly.

Richard's scattered thinking brought up memories. He remembered one time when he had assisted with husbandry duties while he was training at one of the more remote monasteries that had to be self-sufficient. The stallion, he remembered, had had a huge shaft that had dropped out once he could smell the mare; holding him back had taken all of his strength, even with the assistance of the monastery's stable manager. When the stallion had finished covering the mare, his erection and her pussy had dripped the same kind of goo that had shot out of his own penis.

Something felt wrong to Richard; he vaguely remembered being told that humans held a special place above animals, and he seemed to remember being told that children were a special gift. But if the horses were bred to have children, and he, a human, produced the same stuff...

Richard's thoughts scattered again; Edmund was holding his mouth open, cradling his head in his lap, slowly pouring some of the brown beverage into his mouth. Most of it trickled over his gaping lips, forming chilly rivulets down his face to his thick neck.

The small one had spread Richard's legs apart, sniffing and intensely licking between his legs, the thickened pads on his furry hands; the other monsters had left after Edmund had ordered them, but Richard hadn't been able to parse any words that had been said, or even aware if any had been said.

Richard slurred, "What did you do to me?"

"We had some kinky, aggressive sex," Edmund explained, "to help you to see what a bad influence the Holy Hand had been on you."

"I'm not a paladin any more?" Richard mumbled, his mind suddenly presenting the cold reality to him.

"No," Edmund acknowledged, "but I think you'll feel better about it later on. They've been lying and depriving you of some wonderful things. You feel good right now, don't you?"

Richard nodded - or at least thought he did - before his thoughts scattered again. He felt his eyes opening slowly, his head pounding; the small monster had draped its long, hairy body over Richard's, leaving its wet nose pressing against Richard's chin. Edmund was standing over by the table, apparently engaged in some activity that looked like it required a great deal of concentration, and seemed to involve transferring liquids from one glass container to another in carefully controlled amounts.

"What are you going to do to me now?" Richard asked, his voice croaky.

"Oh, you're awake?" Edmund noted, "well, I'll probably wait for you to recover a little bit, then try to persuade you to join me."

"What?" Richard groaned. The penis of the monster resting on him had slid out, and the warm fleshy spike sliding along his chest was a little distracting.

"You're certainly already strong enough," Edmund explained, "and with a little bit of tweaking you'd make a great soldier for my army."

Richard repeated, "Tweaking."

Edmund nodded, "I can change people, make them better - stronger, smarter, more agile - though it usually costs them their humanity. All of my 'monsters', as you seem to know them, used to be men like you. In fact, you knew two of them already from their past lives.

"William became Minotaur - that's the bull - because he wanted to be a respected, feared leader and wasn't getting that in his old position. Eventually, I persuaded him into becoming the creature he is today, and now he is very content; especially as there is a lot of work required to manage to keep you and the others fit and healthy.

"Timothy became Weasel; the poor man was universally hated, and even though he was perfectly able to look after himself, that's no way to live. I was able to give him back his leg, and make it so that the others would want to spend time with him. He serves a useful purpose, keeping morale high, but of course I'll be relying on his other skills later on. There's not much for him to do at the moment, and he seemed to miss having a muscular body to press up to, so I let him rest on you for a while."

Richard eyed the monster lying on his chest. That had really the one-legged thief?

"You probably came here thinking that you were doing a good thing, coming here to kill 'monsters'," Edmund observed, "without even thinking that perhaps what you had been asked was slaughtering innocents."

"No!" Richard protested weakly.

"Despite what you may have been told," Edmund explained, seemingly growing angry, "I do not harm people. I detest killing, and too much of that has happened here.

"I'm an orphan too, you see; I'm just trying to reassemble some kind of family, where everyone's happy and gets to enjoy themselves. Not passing the judgement of death on a whole civilization just to impose your will over everyone else!"

Glass shattered; wet shards rolled off the table. Startled, Weasel leapt up, running over to Edmund with concern; Richard grunted as the monster's hands pushed up on his chest.

"I'm alright," assured Edmund, shooing Weasel away. "Don't stand on the glass shards!"

Richard, not for the first time, felt very conflicted; the man had robbed him of all he had worked for in his life, and had deliberately transformed men into monstrous creatures who seemed to delight in sinning, but he genuinely seemed to show concern for his servants - or was it pets or subjects - and only seemed to get angry over something that did seem understandable, if humanly flawed.

"What if I refuse?" Richard inquired.

"I'll just keep you imprisoned until my plans are completed," Edmund said, carefully picking up the bigger glass pieces from the ground, before sweeping the rest under the table with a small brush. "I did say I'm not a murderer. Either I'll be successful, and you'll be released, or I'll be defeated and you should get rescued."

Weasel, satisfied that Edmund didn't need anything, slunk back over to Richard, lapping at his testicles. Richard moaned, leaning back against the cobblestone floor; he knew he should be angry, or trying to escape, but it just felt so good not worrying about whether anything he did was a sin that would get him excommunicated. Instinctively, he rubbed Weasel's head.

"He's quite a slutty character," Edmund explained, "probably because he's always felt lonely. He'd love it if you were to pin him down and have your way with him."

Richard blushed, "I - I really don't think I'd be comfortable doing that." He instinctively went to pray, but paused and sighed.

He was so confused. All that time in the cell he had prayed, and nothing had happened; instead he'd been placed into a test he had failed. But his captor didn't seem to be a horrible person; he showed compassion, which was supposed to be one of the virtues. The more he thought, it seemed that he showed compassion a lot more often than quite a few of the holy men he had met. Not necessarily the ones he had spent the most time around, but more so the ones who had gained a high place within the organisation.

He moaned; Weasel's small muzzle had enveloped his genitals, his tongue sliding between his balls and his shaft. It felt nice, and apparently it made others - Weasel, in this case, but he guessed the other monsters and Edmund probably felt the same about it - feel good too. Why was making others feel happy such a bad thing?

Richard slowly sat up, giving Weasel time to move out of the way. Suddenly, he realised he was shaking with annoyance. The whole foundation of his life until this point started to crumble around him.

He'd spend his whole life looking up to the high-ranking priests and paladins, working tirelessly at trying to get better. He had struggled - self-improvement was a virtue - but it had felt worth it if it allowed him to make his god pleased, and gave him the power to do good.

But he hadn't been; he hadn't spent time tending to the sick, or providing for the poor. There had been some of that, but nowhere near what they could have done. The paladin's armour that he had so proudly wore had to have been very expensive, and probably could have fed a poor family for a year. The horses at the remote monastery had all been fine animals; they could have easily improved the local stock, but the animals had been deemed "too sacred".

Edmund gestured at Weasel, who quickly moved backwards out of the way. He spoke calmly and rather quietly, but Richard seemed to hear just fine as his hands clenched into fists, and his teeth crackled as his jaw tightened. "It's hard to lose everything you've been familiar with," Edmund mentioned, "but there's no reason for us to lie to you here. I won't make you do anything to you any more that you don't want. I'm sorry I had to do it to start off with, but I was afraid you wouldn't willingly try it."

"Humility," Richard thought angrily, "another thing the Holy Hand holds up as a virtue but fails to show." They'd asked for the release of two prisoners - two, admittedly flawed, human beings - to go on a dangerous mission and just as likely to be forgotten if they had succeeded; meanwhile, Lysander would probably be lauded, while he would have probably ended up murdering transformed men. It wasn't even as though them not getting what they wanted would have happened, either.

Edmund offered, "I want you to join us, become a part of our family; do what you think is right, not what other people have told you is right."

The veins across Richard's body stood out; his muscles clenched and quivered, heat flowing out of him. Edmund's words sounded so comforting, and far more believable and tangible than anything he had ever been told before.

He wouldn't be lied to about his small manhood, or his family, or what he was working towards. "Yes," he growled, "make me a monster!"

Edmund smiled, stating, "You're already very strong, easily able to go toe-to-toe with my other servants; would you like to be a powerful warrior to help command my forces? To guide them into a force that will only fight when necessary, using your sense of right and wrong to help guide you?"

Fur prickled out of Edmund's body, a thick patch of light grey sprouting from between his massive pectorals. "Yes!" Richard growled, "That's exactly what I want to do!" Being transformed gave him a heady buzz; he spread his legs apart, flexing his muscles as he felt revitalised, his body slowly growing a heavy, warm pelt.

"You'll also want to be fast, faster than what's normally humanly possible, and able to last longer in battle - and in pleasuring your comrades, giving them what they want to give them some joy in this cruel world."

"Yes!" Richard growled; the fur had reached his throat, and his voice had grown deep and gravelly. The muscles in his arms and legs started to reshape; they had grown from natural affinities and many days performing strenuous feats and practising with weaponry, but now he'd only need to use his hands and feet to fight.

His body reshaped itself to fuel this desire. His chipped jagged nails thickened and curled out, sharp claws slowly forming on his hands and feet. The twitching muscles in his legs and arms reshaped; he wanted the freedom to move faster, and his body accommodated him by slowly changing his form to be primarily quadrupedal, balancing upright when duty or desire called for it. His hands unclenched; rough callouses darkening into paw pads, the palms lengthening slightly to more slightly resemble the forelegs of an animal he was slowly resembling more strongly.

Richard breathed in; his lung swelled, his chest barrelling out further. His lengthening pink tongue dropped over his sharpening teeth. The fur had reached his face, which was forming into a muzzle. Points appeared at the corners of his elongating ears. His irises became golden, before slowly being consumed until the two orbs in his grey, furred face became jet black.

When he first dropped on to all fours, Richard had already become much larger; but now, his musculature was sleek where it had one been heavy and rounded, his body slowly adapting to run on all fours at a blinding pace, while still retaining the strength to go up against the strongest of humans and stand a good chance of defeating them.

Richard tried to speak, to get Edmund to continue the transformation, but his altered vocal cords no longer allowed it; instead, he threw back his head and howled.

Edmund seemed to understand, and prompted, "You'll also need to be very observant, to know when the best times to strike are; all your senses will need to be on high alert."

The nose at the end of Richard's muzzle started to darken; by now his face had become completely transformed, all of his features twisted into new shapes that he was unrecognisable. Thick saliva fell from his mouth as his mind was awash with new senses: his improved hearing echoed the heartbeats of Weasel and Edmund in his head, his enhanced sense of smell filling his mind with lusty thoughts as the musky odours of years upon years of sexual fluids spilled freely assaulted him.

His cock was barely visible from the huge wolf pelt covering his frame, however; Edmund seemed to notice this, and added, "And of course, a fine warrior wanting to service his comrades best will need a fine 'weapon' to go along with that."

Richard pushed up, his crotch tingling as his erection grew; the short cock just peeking out of where a furry sheath began to enclose it. His testicles dangling from his furry undercarriage, he carefully wrapped one of his paw-like hands around the shaft. A thick patch of skin grew, connecting the growing sheath to his underbelly, an increasingly vibrant pink point of flesh poking out of the opening.

His free hand rubbed his belly, grunting as he bent forward slightly; a short, thick tail was growing, matching the expansion of his sheath, now about the average length of the penises Richard had seen over his lifetime, and continuing to grow.

Richard's cock pushed out finally, its shape alien and yet satisfyingly his: pointed at the tip, the thick, red, vein-lined shaft was slick and wet when it emerged, and Richard wanted to stick it equally slick and wet.

Eyeing Weasel, whom had been eyeing him back with an increasingly strong, leaky erection of his own, he growled authoritatively. Weasel scampered over, quickly taking in the exposed shaft into his mouth; making Richard grumble contentedly.

"Now it is time for you to step over the line," Edmund said; Richard heard him echoing through his head, his voice commanding yet caring; a good Master, he decided.

Growling as the last of his tail grew in a burst of fur, he lifted Weasel off the ground, and off of his dick. He bent down, collar close to strangling his new body, turning Weasel around and probing his rear with his thick, red canine erection.

Weasel's ass offered little resistance, but Richard still found the hole tight and enjoyable to thrust into. He built up a gradual momentum, forcing the two of them onto all fours as his furry hips thrust faster and faster.

"Richard wouldn't do this, would he?" Edmund's mind shared with his. Wolf agreed, just in time for him to feel the strange new sensation: his flaring knot popping out of his body, forcing into Weasel's hole with a wet squeezing plop that made him whine and spasm repeatedly, his fucking becoming bestial.

Wolf orgasmed hard and fast not long afterwards; the pressure passing through him. His hefty round orbs emptied out whatever remained in them of his old life, squirting and filling Weasel's tight hole; Weasel yelping beneath him.

Wolf's large hands wrapped around Weasel, twisting him around on his shaft, making him bark in excitement at the mixture of pain and pleasure. With his large muzzle pointing down as far as he could, Wolf's long tongue slid over Weasel's soft underbelly, causing the other male to squirm at the attention.

"Welcome, Wolf," Edmund greeted. "Take some time to enjoy yourself and meet your compatriots. Spend a couple of days here, because I have an important quest for the two of you."

"Yes, Master," Wolf answered, his cock still squirting semen into his slender quest-mate.