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_Scribes Note: crude log book found in the possession of one M. Drythur. Initial third of tome appears to have been used by a different, unnamed, owner (vis. differing hand) and contain numbers on what appears to be a semi profitable farmstead. Shift in content and hand on page 37. Writing is chaotic, often showing no concern for line, sentence or margin. Attempted to reproduce in some discernible order; majority of punctuation added. Crude â€" childish â€" drawings of genitals (male and female) have been omitted.

-G.K.L YHM JXXIV 11_

Pages: 37 to 52

Journal: Morgan Drythur

Morning, somewhere near the Southern Border. Date unknown.

I must write quickly; He is sleeping softly for now. I am not sure of how much time He has afforded me. My mind flits about as if this is some dream. I know it is not; my loins are not at work. The dreams are of sex. Always sex. Partners willing and unwilling. They are more than dreams, but I do not wish to believe. Crimes that are not mine. They are His. I am Drythur, archmage, not a wild beast!

I must attempt to recap; remember as much as I can. If a cure exists these notes maybe prove the key. I will be able to find it I know; I am an archmage. It began with that monster... or was it before? Her cloying smile, her false innocence! I took her in, I trusted her. I wanted nothing of the minx. I never touched her, though she has been the bed fellow of more men then I can imagine. I have seen it. Those pouty lips buried between many a strong masculine pair of thighs; bulging as they wrap around another hard member. Her saliva soaking into the soft flesh as her head rises and falls, leaving thick trails that glisten in the light. She blushes and gags as they rest their paw between her ears, pushing her deeper; lies all lies. How they pet her, praise her. They think they are in control, but they are fools! Every movement of her young body serving to stoke their boiler till it spills over. They roar clutching at her, grabbing her head or her rear as their essence flows into her. Every opening in her body is a mouth, and deep cavernous gash full of wicked barbs and soft teeth. Venom pours out even in her sweat. They smile and beam, thinking that they have taken her purity, ruined her for every other man she will know. Her purity is long gone, taken by the many cocked infernal master that gave her birth! They try to pull away, try to escape, but her venom already has them. Their flesh turns back, rots, bursts at the seams, pregnant with disease and madness. Blood, seed, life flowing into one of her million mouths! And then she feeds. Vampire. Demon. Vixen. That mask! Hidden behind *illegible section* a succubus! I will take her. I am strong. I am Morgan Drythur she will have no power over me!

Focus! Must focus! Adam and the she-bitch Alice. Sought to study... She coaxed some hidden power from the beats. Dark rituals, I saw his member spring to life and explode at her mere touch. The foul demon! She offered herself to them in the night. Gave her powers... must come from the male. Its body to thick and slow compared to the bitch. Must have mental powers to command a legion of such huntresses. Must study. Dissect his brain. Must be a way to undo. Now She controls them both! How I do not know. Her power is as hidden as her virginity; never seen, never taken. I will best you, traitorous virgin whore.

*illegible*

Have moved south somehow, guided by instinct: lust. The Southern border would be two weeks journey from the lab. Unknown date. There is no one to ask. No one to answer. I know I am near the border. I can smell the fire and the rot in the air. Sound of hooves in the night has become regular. They say the war has stopped, but not here. There is fighting, marching and dying. I think I am at the end of Her reach. Mind is slowly returning though He still controls the *illegible*.

I came upon soldiers. They wore red and black, those that wore anything, colors of the enemy to our south or the colors of some local duke and his private army? I do not judge them for their actions. They only did what they were entitled from the peasants. It was a small farming village not more than 10 buildings: cabins, barns, outhouses. If there was a fight, I was too late. Instead the soldiers were engaged in the act that soldier do often and well with conquered people, especially the women. There were screams, or moans, or both.

Their captain was a massive stallion in the way that all stallions are known to be. Inside the small farmhouse, barely a cabin really, the air was deathly still; outside the crops lay trampled in the mud as various soldiers ran about in a desperate attempt to gather anything worth the effort to steal. I thought of them as vermin birds or some such things, totally beneath my notice. My once fine clothes hung about me in rags, and perhaps they though me some foolish old beggar not worth the effort of robbing. A large soldier of some low breed or another had stood at the door to the cabin. He had made as if to block the way of his better, and I cannot say for sure why I considered it worth the effort to enter this particular hovel, but I did. He opened his wide, plant chewing muzzle in a foolish attempt to chastise me, but found it suddenly hard to speak as his own swords have leapt free of its scabbard, rotated about its axis and thrust upward through his lower jaw and into his brain. His eyes rolled back into his head, already filming with the glaze of death and his thick body slumped down in front of the door. With a wave of my paw I sent his body hurtling somewhere to the side, it landed face down in the mud, sinking slowly.

Inside the cabin smelled of blood and sex. I stepped over the threshold, walking over the corpse of a male rabbit, clad in grimy and bloodied peasant garb. His eyes were still open in mild surprise as his cold paws clutched at the gaping cut in his stomach though with his gray, cool innards had slowly spilled out. Off towards one wall of the shack lay the body of a small girl, perhaps 9, her dress, looking more like a burlap sack, had been roughly torn open in the front. Her legs lay spread wider then those of mortal should go; her loins were similarly torn asunder, ripped from front to back by her rapist. She lay in a cooling pool of her own blood, her one long ear soaked red and perilously close to the small smoldering fire. The air way filled with the sweet smell of roasting meat, and I confess to savoring the smell. It was almost enough to overcome the stench of blood, rape, smoke and worst of all poverty.

The captain was busy with the room's sole bed and his massive back was to me; he did not notice me enter or did not care. He was made of rope; thick ropey muscle, coiled around itself many times. His shoulders were wide, twice as wide as my body. His thick arms more tree trunks then living things. Weak sunlight filtered in through the think skins stretched over the window's of the cabin. The light fell on his back, making his deep chestnut fur shine, and glowing golden as it hit each thick beaded drop of sweat. His body seemed to be bed of living fire as he did his work; his glorious firm, taught buttocks clenched powerfully has his hips thrust forward, releasing as they drew back. Every inch of him was pure masculine muscle, even the dark ring of muscle of his anus, made bare by his lustfully raised tail, seemed to bear with it the promise of such strength to crush my feeble body.

He stood with his thick muscular legs wide, his thighs as bulging with thick powerful manly muscle. His pants lay carelessly bunched around his one hoof, almost as if he were daring my eyes to rove over his perfect masculinity. Between his legs hung the most massive pair of testicles I had ever seen, my own testicles tightened in shame at the sudden comparative diminishment. His heavy sack seemed to move almost in slow motion as it swung back and forth with every thrust, slapping occasionally against the short lapine tail imprisoned beneath him. Clutched in each of his massive paws were the slender ankles, but his overall massiveness was so great that I could see little of his victim save for her (though I had no proof it was a "her" at the time) for her tan furred legs and wide, bestial footpaws. Her legs were muscular, toned and utterly disgusting for a female; they were far too used to movement and labor to be anything else but common. Even as his hips smacked against hers, her thighs remained solid, lacking any of that appealing, jiggling, fat layer of a true woman. I was sure I was watching the deflowering of a virgin girl, or perhaps the sodomy of a young boy. I stood there entranced. Though I could have taken a step to my left to easily discover more of the lapine, my paws made no movement. Instead my eyes stayed transfixed on the massive, glistening stallion-hood as it drew back. His hips seemed to pull back forever, but even then the tip of that massive dappled stallion cock did not emerge. It was as thick as my forearm! And likely just as long! I felt my own shaft, grown massive thanks to His will, stir, stretching itself in a desperate attempt to become comparable. It failed, even at its full girth.

I admit dear witness to feeling some jealously, not at watching him take the common sexual object beneath him, but rather at the sheer size and strength off his body. In his every movement, his every thick taught muscle, his every bead of sweat, I saw my own decaying muscles, thinning fur and growing gut. At the age of 54 I still am in my prime, only a young man. I found this young stallion both awe-inspiring and offensive. It is no wonder this foolish, idiotic species are used to perform manual tasks for their betters! And his massive, thick shaft, spotted pink and black like some terrible half finished paintjob! A half finished project of a demented god! I have hear of noble women to take such beasts to their beds. To feel so stretched, their body tore apart by their perverted lust. I have heard tales of the wretched sodomites of the south lands and how they enter their master's stables at night and coax the wild stallions to enter their body! Could you imagine you own sphincter stretched so wide? Feeling that massive, throbbing inside you? Each and every glorious inch? It erupts seed, filling your muzzle from deep within your body. The thick virility filling your nostrils, you eyes, into your brain! Terrible.

I am unaware of how long I stood there watching him and his gloriously masculinity ravage that rabbit. I am equally unsure of what I did that suddenly brought me to the notice of his massive form. His head wiped around, turning it ugly under-evolved countenance on me. He was as hideously ugly as are the bulk of his breed, long muzzle, flat teeth, and wide lips mottled black and pink pulled back in a sneer, large wide set eyes of a beast best fit for being the food of its betters. Hideous. His face adopted an almost moronic look of surprise as she scanned over my body; no doubt all of his meager brain power was absorbed in the decision weather to cede to his better or continue his fornication. His hips did not stop their thrusting. The air was heavy with his occasional grunts, and the wet squelching sound his phallus made as it sank deeper into his captive. His eyes momentarily darted to his weapon then back to me. Then with a wide idiotic smirk he turned his back to me, grabbing the hips of the rabbit beneath him and rutting it in earnest.

I did not like it. That moronic insolence! That *illegible section*! To snub one of his betters was a mistake her would regret. I waved my paw dismissively at his backside, feeling a sense of loss but no regret as magic flowed outward. His thick grass eating skull exploded outward, coating the walls of the small cabin in a shower of gore and bone fragments. His powerful hips, unwilling to be swayed from their previous goal, managed several last thrusts before his own ponderous weight threw him off balance. He toppled backwards slowly. It took an eternity for every last inch of his massive phallus to slide free of its tomb. When at last the thickly flared head pulled free with a wet slurp, I saw a thick spurt of his seed fly out, landing somewhere in the rabbit's white underbelly. His body fell to the floor with a loud crash, continuing to spurt from both ends; seed from his heavy dark sack, down well over a foot and a half of his member to release, while on the opposite end his blood continued force its way out of his severed neck, driving by some unknown pump. I thought to myself saying something about an orgasm that blew his mind, but found it far too droll.

The rabbit lay there blood and spatters of brain soaking into her fur â€" for I could clearly see her exposed femininity now. Her dark eye â€" for one had swollen shut no doubt from the stallion's fist â€" was, like all plant eaters, lacking in any sign of higher thought; it was spread almost as wide as her torn, gaping, cunt. She has fared far better than her sister â€" or perhaps daughter, for though she looked to still be sort of her second decade of life, these peasants were prone to breed like rabbits as the expression goes. She was torn, bleeding, ravaged, her cuntlips swollen and red from what surely was the best rutting of her pitiful life, but she would heal. I watched in curiosity as those ravaged lips trembled, as if they were the higher lips of a blushing virgin before her first kiss, and then the stallion's thick white seed slid slowly out of a hole that I'm sure I could have fit my arm into with minimal resistance. I confess it was then the He took control.

A thick leather belt has been wrapped around her forepaws, the leather tinged red when it had cut into her wrists sometime during her hours (?) of raping. She could not have fled, could not have resisted, but He expected something to show in her dim lapine eye. She said nothing, did nothing as He pulled aside my rags and replaced one rapist for another. Her mouth opened as He climbed onto the bed over her, revealing yellowed bucked teeth and a deep pink tongue. He felt a momentary dilemma even has His long, powerful, swollen wolf-hood sank into her quivering stretched cunt. I could feel thoughts rolling through His head. He imagined His own tongue emerging as a thick stallion cock, dripping pre as He forced it down into her mouth, throat and beyond. I felt Him begin to gather magic about Him; it took every ounce of my control to stop Him from twisting my body even more.

She uttered not a word as His hips rose and shortly later slammed home. Never before had He felt such ecstasy, her walls, shattered by the relentless siege of the army stallion and his massive battering ram, barely even seemed able to grip at His shaft as He hilted Himself again and again. The delightful warm moisture of the stallion's thick seed washed over His member, coating it in deep, warm stickiness. He placed His strong paws above her shoulders, asserting His right and dominance. She merely lay there limply, bound to a bed, an unreadable expression trapped in her one working eye.

She was a homely creature: wide paws, both foot and fore, her ears long and flopped back behind her head, between them a grimy ponytail that may once have been white, her breasts were large and full and though they had something of a pleasant bounce to complement His thrusts, they lacked any sag or visible veins running just beneath the fur to turn her into a desirable specimen of womanhood. Her nipples were wide and dark. They were surprisingly long as well, extending almost an inch from the tips of her unpleasantly acceptable breasts. They too showed signs of rough treatment by her captors. Her fur was a deep tan; her underbelly white (or at least pale, grimy, gray), both were spotted with irregular patches of black, red, brown, pink and white, though some of the later colors were more like the result of recent events then her breeding â€" base as it was. Her one good eye possessed a wide brown iris that seemed to catch the dim sunlight and shine with flecks of gold. None of that interested Him. He was only concerned with one part of her anatomy â€" for now.

He arched his back, howling in bliss as her sublimely well stretched and filled hole brought Him to the edge of ecstasy with more speed than He had ever known. He climaxed, spraying his precious, lupine seed into her ravished womb. There it mixed with the leavings of her equine rapist's and what was certainly a great flow of virgin blood. He leaned over her, panting, thick saliva dripping from His uncoiled tongue, even has His swollen, virile, sack pumped more and more of its precious cargo into her inferior womb. The Rabbit made no sound save for her shallow breathing and the slow drip of seed from between her thighs into the foul, torn mattress.

Laying there in her ravaged baseness He could almost overlook her flaws and understand why so often gentlemen such as Him would spread their seed amongst inferiors. Her breasts showed some signs of being able to grow with the right encouragement, but her waist was far too narrow, her hips too slim; it was unlikely she would survive more than a few birthings. Her body was too muscular from field work and her meager peasant diet had deprived her of any true layer of fat. But she was willing or at least compliant. And He has uses for her.

He unbound the heavy belt from her forepaws, wrapping it instead around her neck in a crude collar. Her one eye showed no form of protest, and she gave only as soft gurgle as He tightened the leather around her throat, and dragged her from her cabin into her new life.

*Appears to be written sometime later. The hand is much more stable, though there is no indication of passed time within the writing*

She has never once spoken. At times I have caught her humming softly to herself as she plods behind me on her primitive paws or when I allow her to clean herself in the occasional stream. Though the humming hints at a clear crystalline voice, not even He has been able to coax it from her. He can illicit no more the occasional sigh, whimper or moan, regardless of how hard He beats her, or takes her, or both.

She is not much for conversation; I talk often but I do not know is she posses the intelligence to understand. I believe He has claimed some village idiot, but that serves fine for His carnal needs. I call her Silence, and she is useful to me. Endless nights of ravishing to so keep Him at bay. His stamina is endless, often lasting till sunrise. I walk along half asleep, half starving. Have sat still too long.

He stirs *illegible section, perhaps scribble?* not much time.

Sense of purpose. New *illegible*!

Must find

must REVENGE *crude drawing, perhaps a penis or a sword*

Krista KILL

Sex Krista Suffer Die

Sex

*and so on till the end of the page*