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KITTYSLUT TRIBE

--

Part Two

Six-year-old Mika knelt; legs splayed, eyes glazed, his butt hovering just above the sand. He was sweating in the late afternoon heat, droplets running down his chest and clinging to the tip of his soft little cocklet. His paintbrush (a stick) seemed to move on its own, gliding along the shores of the smooth lake in sweeps or minute tangles, tracing a labyrinth of symbols in the sand, paragraphs in a language he did not know-- all indecipherably indicating the summit of the mountain that towered above his tribe's forest.

Something warm pressed to his exposed hole, waking him from his trance. A headache came blistering up behind his eyes. He furrowed his brow, dropped the stick; he was more concerned about how he'd got here and where these weird marks in the sand had come from than he was about the three-year-old who had snuck up behind him and started eating his sweat-slick pucker out without so much as a "hello."

"Stop... buh..." Mika grumbled, reaching back to push the toddler away, but the kitten whined and fought, wrapping his arms around Mika's thighs and burying his tongue twice as deep inside him as a way of saying "Nuh uh, you can't make me." Between his legs, Mika saw droplets of something pink spatter onto the sand.

Exhausted and confused, he rested his chin in the sand and released a purr, listening to the soft lapping of the lake's waves and the toddler's tongue. Once he felt okay, he tried to piece the past hour together: Ari and Syph had come by and promised to double-dick his little butt, so long as he didn't go to the festival... Aero had paid him a visit, and they'd wrestled... yes, it was then, just after Aero had left, after exactly three spoonfuls of his berry-mix breakfast. Past that point his memory dissolved.

Trying to recall what had happened next brought up only vague, disconnected sensations: the sound of something big crashing through the underbrush, deep voices, and, most memorable: a sweet and chemical taste.

~

At the summit, the pre-festival excitement made the air vibrate. Catboys were arriving in groups of five or six every minute, sweaty and panting from the climb, some of the littler ones piggybacked on their brothers or fathers. In the center of the grassy bowl, Aero unpacked his rucksack while a group of curious, naked toddlers huddled around him.

"Mmmkay, so here's the incense..." he said, laying out fifty thin twigs, all with bright and colourful coatings. The kittens gasped and pushed at each other to look.

"We gooooot..." Aero picked out a stick with some mint-green on it. "This one smells like a wolf's butt, actually."

"No it doesn't!"

"Can I smell?!"

"Put it on FIRE!!!!!!!!!!!"

"Well we can't light 'em up yet," Aero said. "But... here..."

He sat the most excited kit on his lap, half-chub fitting neatly between the boy's inner thighs and making his soft nuts squish up a bit. Slowly, Aero ran the incense underneath the toddler's button nose, watching his cocklet grow so fast it papped against his tummy. The little cub inhaled as deep as he could.

Aero set him back down with a smile. "Well?"

As soon as he came to his senses, the toddler snatched up a fistful of the minty sticks and practically snorted the incense right off of them. "It really does! It smells like Karenin's big fat puppy butt!" he said, eyes alight. "... Um... can I eat these?"

Aero laughed. "No, but if you're hungry..."

He took the papayas out of his bag. They lasted approximately five seconds in the open air before the catboys snatched them up and started gnawing, or pressed them protectively between their pudgy little boytits and ran off into the thickening crowds.

~

Back down at the lake, Mika jumped at a sudden pinch. "Ow! Quit it!"

The toddler had now crammed a whole hand up Mika's butt, groping greedily at his insides, little tongue flicking out across a pair of shit-smeared lips. "I jus' gotta... it's so tasty..."

That was the last straw. Mika braced against the ground, twisted sideways and threw the little shit-eater off his butt with sheer g-force, landing deftly on his feet and feeling pretty cool. Looking at him full-on now, he saw the kitten was delirious and zombified with lust; his eyes were foggy, his movements drunk and wobbling. Mika had to keep in motion constantly, or else the boy would just homing-missle to his ass and latch back on.

He managed, with a few thick fronds of wild grass and a lot of struggling, to hog-tie the toddler and get him belly-down in the sand.

He had to listen hard to realize the sound of rustling bushes was more than a memory. People were coming-- three teenagers, he saw now, who burst from the woods and onto the lakeshore a ways down, racing each other, cocks flopping around with wild abandon. They all bore the colourful insignia of Ari's gang; a broken circle of purple, pink, and magenta berry dyes, centered right on the smooth little space of fur between their their belly buttons and their cocks. Mika had no idea what it meant, but he was sure it meant something.

"Wait," Mika said, his little hole twitching at the sight of them, but-- he recognized Syph, a skinny wolfboy hybrid with a feral hunger in his eyes. No one was sure who Syph's dad really was, given the fact that his mom, a two-year-old catboy, had wandered off and gotten his little boywomb raped pregnant about twenty times by every animal in the forest.

That was, in fact, how Ari's gang had first started: separated from the rest of the tribe, raised more by the animals than anyone else; what made them truly distinct, however, was that they lived so far downriver that the City's pink pollution infected all their air, water, and food.

"Lookie here," Syph said, squatting and groping the helpless, tied-up toddler, who was craning his neck desperately to try and lick at the wolfboy's fingers as they explored his little body, pushing on his fat belly, wrapping affectionately around his throat. Syph was really only a pre-teen at twelve, but blessed with a thirteen-inch cock (not including the knot) and a complete disregard for the comfort of any boy who happened to get impaled on it. "Did you do this, Mika? I thought you were pretty vanilla..."

"Um, yes, but-- I had to, he's so horny-- I mean, more than usual even--"

The other teens, fifteen and fourteen it seemed, noticed the intricate drawings in the sand. "Hey, this is actually kind of cool. You draw this? What's it mean?"

"I... I don't remember, or... even think I knew in the first place?"

Their faces fell. "Oh. So it's just meaningless toddlercunt doodles, then."

They kicked the sand and erased it.

Syph was looking to the summit, casually working his foot up the toddler's semi-gaped cunny and wiggling his pawtoes inside the little boy, who quivered and squealed. "There's been a change of plans, by the way. Apparently word has come down from Kizzo that the festival is open to everyone this year, even Ari and the rest of us. He also mentioned some sort of transportation up the river, not sure what that's about, but if you wanna get your little butt ruined... you should start the climb with us. I can knot you and let you hang off my dick on the way if you get tired. Sound good? Wanna come?"

Mika bristled. "I...! I don't even know if I'm going! And stop asking me so many questions! I should... I should be asking you stuff! Like how did I get here? Why's this kitty so delirious? What's that pink stuff? Did you see anything... weird before you got here, or--"

His backtalk earned him a cockslap from Syph that left a little smear of precum and a pink mark glowing on his cheek. The insignia on the wolfboy's lower tummy soon eclipsed all of Mika's vision, and thirteen inches of musky, grime-coated wolfcock sank down his little throat, his head getting pushed back into the sand while Syph's hips slammed forward. A few little rolls of filth and cockslime peeled off around Mika's girly lips while he gagged and shivered and took it.

The other teens were happily molesting the three-year-old. The older one lifted him up and dropped him lazily onto his cock, undoubtedly bruising the little one's insides as a near foot of cockmeat punched through his innards and halfway up his esophagus, bulging his neck out. The other teen ran his hands up the toddler's chest, thumbs working hard at the puffy nipples, and then closed both around his throat and throttled him, massaging his friend's cock through the babycunt's throatflesh and cracking a joke about him as his cheeks went blue.

Syph put his full weight on Mika's mouth, fat knot popping past the six-year-old's lips. "C'mon," he cooed. "Puke for me."

Mika had no choice. A warm, colourful rush of berries and greens sloshed out around Syph's cockmeat, some splurting from the six-year-old's nose and running down his distended jaw as he choked hard. "Good boyyy~" Syph purred, scooping some up and wiping it on Mika's pretty eyelashes.

"Hey, can we kill this lil guy? I think he's bleeding pretty hard anyway..." the older teen said, wiping up a few reddish chunks of toddlershit that had splurted out over his balls and pushing the waste up the three-year-old's tiny nostrils, where he eagerly snorted it down.

"Well, techinically the festival hasn't started yet, so we should be careful how violently--" he grunted and gaped Mika's puke-slick throat with a few brutal thrusts--" ... how violently we rape 'em, y'know? Kizzo's gonna be back before sundown, and we're not even supposed to be this far upriver."

The older teen grinned. "I'll just get his consent, then."

He didn't pull out entirely, but far enough that the toddler's lungs were no longer squashed aside. Likewise, the other teen released his grip on the boy's throat and held his chin instead, forcing the gasping and gagging kittycunt to look him in the eyes. Even then, the three-year-old was blinded by a film of tears.

"How old are you, cutie?" the teen asked.

"Three..."

"Three? You're a big boy already, huh?"

The toddler smiled despite himself, wiggling against his bonds. "Muh... you gonna rape me more...?"

The teen trailed a few fingers down the boy's chubby tummy and gave his cocklet a tug. "We wanna snuff your cute little butt out, actually. Would you like that?"

"Maybe... um..." he mewled, eyes foggy, then shivered. "... Yes."

He groped the toddler's balls now, crushing the fat little orbs in his fist and smiling while the catboy squirmed, helpless. "Say please."

"Okay, sorry, um--" The grip got even tighter. "Okay! OKAY! PLEASE! RAPE ME!"

"How hard?"

"As hard... as hard as you can, please! Please!"

"You want us to break your little cunny that bad~?"

The older teen couldn't contain himself. He put both hands on the boy's soft hips and started bouncing him cutely on his foot of cockmeat, making his pudgebutt jiggle every time it struck the teen's thighs. The shock was too much, and the toddler's floppy little cock started leaking a jet of pee, spraying it everywhere while he answered through periodic throatfuls of dick:

"Yes-- GLKH-- please-- HNGH-- rape-- HHHNNNNNGK-- m-my--"

Syph came over, holding Mika upside-down to keep his throatcunt impaled, and crammed four fingers into the three-year-old's drooling mouth. "Shut up. You're a toddlerslut, we get it. I'm so tired of little whores like you always yammering in my ear, all high-pitched and desperate for attention as soon as someone with a cock says 'go.'" The toddler looked up with wide eyes, gagging as Syph worked his fingers deeper, groping the cub's uvula. "If you wanna really wanna die for us, do something about it. Don't just sit there demanding more and bringing nothing but your own worthless holes to the table."

Syph slashed the boy's makeshift bonds with a claw, freeing his paws. Eager to please, the toddler took those words to heart and started wiggling rhythmically, trying to work his little ass down further on the cock each time it rammed back inside him... and then, eyes still glazed with that demonic lust, he wrapped both of his soft little paws around Syph's wrist and yanked the whole fist down his throat, his determination to be the cutest snuffsleeve redoubling even as his eyes rolled back and three tummyfuls of cum pressurized his innards, making the fuck all that tighter for his rapist as he rutted between the kittycunt's cum-bloated lungs like they were just another pudgy pair of buttcheeks.

~

Aero was, for the first time in years, able to work without the constant distraction of sex. It was a rare kind of hush that fell over his weiner; due partly, of course, to the absence of the more precocious toddlersluts, who had been rounded up and ushered into the caves to get dressed up in their pretty festival clothes. But more simply, he was able to ignore sex in this moment because the tribe was always so lazy; in recent years Kizzo, the tribe's founder, had started bringing them huge stores of food to lessen the need for hunting, so it was expected that everyone would just loaf off or take dick most days of the year. When opportunities to actually work on something came up, Aero found he could tap into a hidden reserve of energy that allowed him to fight past his innate cocklust and get shit done. It felt good.

Then Ari grabbed Aero's soft ears and pulled him into a violent, throat-deep french kiss.

"MMPHFPHM!!! MPHPM! MMMMMMMPHHH... MMMMMMMMmmmm... mmmmm... mmmmfph... hhhnnmnm~"

Aero barely managed to light the last stick of incense with a wobbly hand, the last one in a ring of them that circled the summit, before collapsing onto his back, cool blades of grass caressing him. Ari snickered and straddled Aero's stomach, twelve, thirteen, and then fourteen inches of growing dickmeat throbbing in time with his heartbeat. Ari pulled his hips and lips back, leaving thick strands of precum and saliva respectively, and then lined the tip of his cock up with Aero's belly button and pushed it down hard.

"Done yet?" Ari asked, spitting in his victim's mouth.

Aero reluctantly swallowed it. "No... I still gotta help with Karenin, and then the toilets, and then I still gotta get changed."

"Changed? Don't tell me you're gonna be in festival clothes...?"

Aero pushed him off and double-checked that the incense was okay before he deigned to answer. Standing now, he watched as sunset pulled shadows across the grassy summit's bowl, the ring of incense churning a thick smoke out now, painting the air in great milky-orange swirls where the dying sunrays lingered.

"It's not festival gear, not really... just... just a costume, I guess. Mika made it for me last year, but I was too nervous to wear it. Not like you would've seen it anyway... your gang wasn't invited then. I'm wondering if we should've kept that rule this year too." He pouted.

Ari rolled off and leaned back on his elbows, laughing. "Show me."

Aero turned. "I'll put it on when the festival starts, alright? Have some patience. Oh, I think that's the tamers with Karenin now..."

It was. Over the rim bounded Karenin, the most virile and vicious of the tribe's pet wolves, "tamed" over the course of three years by the most dedicated wolfboys-- they were the only ones who could get close to it in the first place without being mangled and knotted and dragged around for hours afterward over the muddy forest floor.

Aero waved them down and came over, patting Karenin on the snout and giving his shaggy fur a good mussing. The wolf licked happily at his fingers and then started spinning in excited circles once his nose caught wind of the incense; he knew what was going to happen tonight just from the scent of the incense.

"Hi! Mmmkay, so, you got the stuff?" Aero asked the oldest wolfboy.

The boy said nothing and threw down a satchel, keeping his eyes on Ari. Then he left, whistling for the others to follow him. They complied without hesitation.

Karenin wanted to go with them, but Ari stepped forward and held out a little piece of meat (catboy or not, Aero couldn't tell) which the wolf swiftly snatched up and sat down to gnaw. He mussed the wolf's fur and smiled.

"What was that about...? Usually they're nice..." Aero said.

"They don't wanna party with me," he said. "You'd think they'd warm up to me, since I'm supposed to be like an ambassador for my little sub-tribe and all-- hell, I even got my insignia washed off-- but whatever. Give them an hour and a few nibbles on some Pink Dream, and they'll be begging for a cock down their windpipes~"

Aero rolled his eyes and got to work while Karenin was still distracted with the meat. From the satchel he produced a special pair of panties and a bunch of makeup, yet again more supplies from Kizzo; then a few dyes mixed especially for fur, a tough leather muzzle/ring-gag and a clever little oaken restraint device one of the toddlers had designed all by themselves.

He could hardly grab Karenin's tail, it was wagging so fast. He attached the device to the wolf's tummy and connected his tail, restraining it so it was permanently held up, exposing his shit-caked, bloated pucker, which happened to be drooling some brown which Ari deftly snatched and licked up. Next Aero dolled the wolf up with some mascara and lipstick, drew some pawprints on the panties and slipped them over Karenin's hind legs, then cut a slit in the back for easy access. Once the wolf was done eating Aero fitted the muzzle/ring-gag on him, which held his maw open wide for anyone to abuse, and together he and Ari thought of some creative things to write on him with the dye, including PUPPYSLUT on his chubby ass and Ari contributed RAPE ME HARD, I CAN'T SAY NO on his chest.

Once they were finally finished transforming Karenin from his voracious, predatorial self into a domesticated cock-holster, he bounded off and sprinted a few laps around the bowl of the summit with pure excitement, a few boys chasing after him, and from the goofy tongue-out look on his face he seemed psyched out of his mind to slobber on as much boymeat as possible that night.

~

Mika woke up at sunset.

He could tell already from the scent of blood and filth in the air, and the insignia flapping on the cloth tent's entrance: he was in Ari's territory, and something purple was coiling away from his body in tight and rhythmic circles.

"Hi. Wow. You're cute when you're breathing."

Mika came rushing back to life as he made eye contact with his healer: a deerboy, complete with a tiny poof-tail above his speckled, butt-plugged butt and a set of antlers hung with baubles. In his mess of caramel hair he'd stowed away little glass vials of powdered berry, dye, herb... and a row of some purple juice sitting squat behind his downy, speckled left ear. He also had a big fat grin on his face.

It was Mika's first time dying, and thus his first time coming back to life. The deerboy-- the same age as Mika, six-- wove his fingers into Mika's hair and kissed him fully, his tongue working with all the precision and expertise of a budding casanova, pushing along the roof of his mouth, cradling his uvula. By the time the intense kiss broke apart into saliva-strands connecting them, Mika had splattered the boy with fifteen thick ropes of cum and outpoured his love for cock in one airy, ecstatic breath without even realizing he had done anything but get smooched. The feeling was all-encompassing and all-benevolent, like the embrace of a God.

"What... what was..."

"It's like that for everyone when they come back," the boy explained between fervent kisses. "It's the best, isn't it? I'm Cervi, by the way. You can call me Cer. Or cumslut. Or trash bin. Or toiletcunt--"

"Wait," said Mika. "Seriously, I need answers. Today has been so confusing. When did I die? And how did you become a healer? Tymu couldn't have taught you, he lives at the summit, and you people... you guys aren't allowed up there."

Dragonflies hung fat over the rushing river outside, their blurred wings humming. Something deeper sounded in the distance, like a foghorn.

The deerboy laughed. "I taught him. The whole healing thing started here, y'know. We needed an excuse to get more violent," he winked. "Anyway, Syph walked in with your throat impaled on his knot, and he cocked you off-- DROPPED! Dropped you off. Um. You looked pretty far gone, soooo... I fixed you up!" he chirped, linking his arms around his knees and blushing a little. "I may have... done a little stuff to your butt before I brought you back, though. I guess they don't do that so much on your side of the river, or any of the like-- of the rougher stuff we do here. Or I guess it's just frowned upon? Or something? Anyway, get up! We're going to the summit! They've got this big-- this THING that they're taking us up the river with-- oh, but you don't know! It's Kizzo! And a bunch of other... oh, just come with me!"

Cervi grabbed him by the hand and ran outside, and Mika stumbled trying to keep up. The whole camp looked familiar, but tinged with more dirt and echoing with high-pitched mewl-screams. They passed by a muddy hot tub where a furry balloon of a catboy-- pregnant, and probably no older than eight months at that-- was getting gangraped. The older boys laughed at its cute struggles while the younger ones cheered the rapists on, demanding they hold the poor thing's head under the water one more time. They passed a bearboy bottoming out inside a squealing toddler while casually clawing up his soft chest, and not far away another toddler agitating a feral bear and shaking his butt sluttily, trying to get the same treatment. And finally, as they neared the river, they passed towering wooden obelisks inscribed with the tribe insignia, standing sentinel outside temples suspended among the trees, all constructed of purple-stained wood and bustling with monks of all ages. Somewhere among the trees a choir was singing.

Mika was stunned. "You have your own religion."

The deerboy shook his head and ran onward. "Yeah, duhhh. What's healing if not a miracle? You gotta pray to the Pink God."

They finally reached the river. Waiting there was something Mika had only ever heard about: a steamboat.

Aboard was half of Ari's tribe, mostly older members, and a dozen rugged fishermen, some who had even brought their own kids and wives along. Twin fox boys ran from their father's side and climbed up on the boat's railing, waving to Mika and Cervi with wide, innocent eyes. "Daddy! Look! Look! It's more wild boys! The wild boys are gonna come on the boat!"

Cervi grinned and pulled a bewildered Mika onboard, and with a few last blows of the horn they departed. At the helm stood Kizzo, grinning the same smarmy tiger-grin he always had, ever since the day he'd rescued the first members of this tribe from the City and watched them bloom into adults. He grabbed a radio and announced:

"Alright, folks! Last stop up ahead, the base of the mountain. Make sure you stay with your guide for the whole climb-- even if they're just a cub, believe me, they know better than you do-- and don't forget your packs and your water bottles, when I say it's a climb I don't mean it's a gently inclined pathway through a flowery meadow, I mean it's a climb. Annnyway... safety stuff for our new passengers: remember to keep your hands and feet in the ride at all times, unless you're riding a toddlerbutt, then take your hands and your feet out and put them back in with a thrusting motion-- haha, it never gets old-- but seriously, if it weren't for all of you, this would never be possible. Really, thank you all, and have a great night at the Kittyslut Nature Reserve!"

~

Ari left just before the toddlers came out from the caves in a huge rush, each clad now in their skimpy festival dresses, some wearing thongs that threaded between their chubby thighs and bunched their little cock and balls into a tiny, rounded package. Aero noted that more than a few of the garments were custom-sewn cloth this year, some even embroidered with BABYCUNT and such, most likely donated by or stolen from the locals. Precious few wore traditional wild grass skirts or hides.

A group of four or five came up to Aero, yammering. "Hold on, hold on," he said, trying to maintain order as they all fought to get at the dyes he was holding. "Hold on I said. We need more than five toilets this year, it turns out. Word from downriver."

"How many more?!"

"I'll get my friend-- he's a bunny-- he loves it when I pee in his--"

But one toddler was holding back, tearing up a little. His little hands were clasped over the front of his thong. Aero ignored the others and approached him. "What's wrong?"

The toddler, only one year old, sniffled and lifted his hands gingerly, revealing a groin soaked and dripping with pee. "It's rekt," he said. "I couldn't hold it... and... and... the festival hasn't even stuh... hasn't even started..."

He was wailing now. The other boys started laughing at him, but Aero shushed them and dropped to his knees, lifting the thong off with a gentle finger and sniffing at the yellow-tinged crotchfur. Then he latched his mouth to the boy's thighs and siphoned the urine out, running his tongue underneath the poor baby's nuts and up his little shaft, then finally sucking the wet from the thong and slipping it back on while the cub blinked and smiled. His friends grins were replaced with jealous scowls.

"There," Aero said. "Fresh and clean and ready to be messed up properly. You wanna be a toilet, right? I think you'd make a really cute one, y'know."

The one-year-old blushed. "Um... maybe, yeah..."

Aero stood and mussed his hair. "Well, I'll paint you up first, then. What labels should we put on, guys?"

The other toddlers, eager to get back at him, came up with the meanest things they could:

SHIT-FOR-BRAINS, on his back. SEPTIC TANK on his tummy. PUKE IN ME on his thigh, and finally PISS IN MY EYES emblazoned right across his forehead. Once that was finished Aero tied him up nicely, spread his legs, and fit a nice porcelain ring-gag between his fat red lips, which made it obvious to everyone his mouth was a toiletbowl. By the end of it the toiletbaby's cock was practically a faucet of precum.

"Aaank ooo," he said through the ring-gag.

"Don't mention it," said Aero.

Ari returned, half-ecplised in shadow as the sun sank below the rim of the summit, and announced to everyone:

"Tighten up your buttholes, kitties, 'cause the festival starts in five minutes!"