How to make a sheepdog.
A sheep sacrifices himself to a wolf spirit so his village may continue to safely exist for another year.
Cyrin walked into the open space of the glade, a perfect ring among the trees with the orange glow of the setting sun casting a crescent shape on the damp grass. It was too perfect to seem natural, but there were no signs of man here, even the prints his hooves left in the grass as he walked rebounded in such a way as only a supernatural force could explain. He took his blanket and spread it out on the grass, setting down the picnic basket next to it before lying down and laying back. Arms crossed underneath his head, he stared at the sky as the setting sun made the smattering of clouds burn.
All things considered, it was a beautiful day for him to die.
He enjoyed the view for a moment before taking a deep breath of the fresh air and sitting up. He drew the picnic basket over, setting his final meal out in front of him. It was nothing compared to the incredible feast his small village threw in his honor the day before, but it was still the best they had to offer. He opted for the bottle of wine first, uncorking the bottle and sniffing deep it's fruit aroma. He briefly moved for a glass, but stopped himself then took a hearty swig from the bottle. Unfortunately it wasn't particularly good, and more than vinegary. Sheep were not known for their wine making.
Still, there were a few bottles to enjoy, plenty for him to get more than a little drunk before he was to be sacrificed to the spirit that guarded the forest. He'd been given the option of healthier meals, but given it was his last day alive he decided to enjoy himself as much as possible. He pulled out a nice big apple pie, closing the basket to set it on top. He chose to use his hands, not caring for how it matted the fur on his paws or stained his clothes. If the wolf spirit was going to eat him, let him have a messy meal.
While eating he briefly considered removing his clothes. There wouldn't be anyone foolish enough to come watch, they might get taken too, and such individual thought is unheard of in a village of sheep anyway. His clothes even offered little in the way of being flattering, all of his earthly possessions going to friends so they didn't simply go to waste, leaving him with no clothes of his own to wear. He didn't mind so much, figuring he could wear something from the lost and found, but he learned too late this was a mistake.
The clothes for men were made for built rams, and by most regards he could be mistaken for a ewe. He was shorter and skinnier than most rams, he lacked horns, his features were softer, even his wool was more plush than your usual ram's. As a result most of his clothes tended to be custom made, or something made for a woman. Thus it was hardly surprising that the only thing that fit him comfortably was a dress. It was such an indignity when he was in the village, but now that he had been walking with it for a while he had to admit he didn't mind it so much. It felt oddly freeing, and for once his affliction didn't feel quite so bad. He decided to settle on removing his underwear, leaving the dress on as he ate.
As the sun set Cyrin couldn't help but consider his life. All in all it wasn't a bad life, not the easiest, but he enjoyed it. Granted, he had no family, no children, no mate, through no fault of his own. He was born, in his village's simple terms, cursed. He realized it was probably just a birth defect, a hormone deficiency that kept him from developing like the other rams in the village. The ewes enjoyed him as a friend, but had no interest in him as a mate as a result, which he honestly didn't mind so much.
He had no attraction for the women, even when they were in heat, and the village tended to be fairly binary in it's decision of roles. Sometimes a ewe had several husbands, or a ram with several wives, and never did that change. Granted, it made things lonely for him, but his feelings on the matter weren't a secret. It might have gotten him teased a little, but all in all no one bugged him for how he felt, it's just nothing would ever change, even if some of the people in the village voiced similar feelings to him in private.
It was frustrating, but there was little he could do about it, though he did try, for nearly forty years. He was done fighting, but he wasn't going to just take the easy way out. He wanted to do something for his village. Flawed though they were, he loved every one there, and he wanted them to stay safe. It felt like the right time, to sacrifice himself to the spirit of the forest so it would keep them safe for one more year... well, not so much keep safe as go on a bloody rampage through the village. The spirit called it protection, he saw it more as bribing.
Yet it had to be done, and the spirit would only accept those who willingly sacrificed themselves. Usually this meant the village debated who would be the sacrifice this year and the person more or less agreed because they couldn't come up with a good argument against it. Such is the way of living in a village full of sheep. It honestly seemed to surprise the village that someone stepped forward before it came to a vote. Part of him hoped this meant people would remember him more than other sacrifices, but he wasn't so sure.
He uncorked his last bottle of wine as darkness began to take over the glade, licking his fingers clean of sweet apple pie between gulps of wine. The sky was full of clouds now. He laid back, looking up to the sky as the day ended. It grew darker and darker, his eyes gradually adjusting to the light as he waited. He could hear the forest around him, faintly the sound of his village in the distance, even other villages, and wild-life. There was so much life in the forest, but no one and nothing would appear in the glade, not until the spirit appeared in the air several feet in front of him.
It was a curious thing. He saw the clouds parting directly above him as the moon got into its position. One moment it was full, but went through it's phases quickly, as if a something was taking bites out of it until only a crescent hung in the sky. It seemed to glow brighter, but he soon realized it wasn't the moon, but the air right in front of his eyes, shimmering slightly as a being took shape in the mortal realm.
A thick coat of fur so bright it hurt to look, as if it were a personification moon's light itself. His brain had difficulty comprehending the shape at first, as if his simple mortal mind was not capable of understanding an extraplanar being, but as the spirit took solid form it became clearer. A wolf twice as big as any wild canine he'd ever seen, it might even be mistaken for a lower horse by the sheer size alone were it not for the muzzle full of razor sharp canines standing on all fours in over the ground. It was difficult not to notice the spirit was very clearly male with the size of the impressive balls hanging between his hind legs. They looked easily as big as his head, and almost seemed to pulsate behind the thick sheath beneath him.
It looked around then gazed down at him, the eyes as radiant as the rest of its form. The wolf looked him over a moment, almost as if it were bored. His muzzle opened and he licked at his teeth, an impossibly bright ivory that stood out among the sea of darkness before leaping out at him. His arms came up to cover his face in reflex, but when he felt no teeth or claws cutting into him he drew them away and saw the wolf sniffing at his stomach. The wolf looked up and his head tilted to the side.
The wolf's teeth showed and he lifted a paw, pressing it down into his stomach. His claws lowered, sinking into his clothes and tearing easily as he drew the paw back, yet when Cyrin looked he could see no blood, and felt no pain, just the coolness of the night air on his bare body. He stared at the wolf, more confused than scared, but didn't move away. It would be no use. This forest was the spirit's domain, even standing on the ground now life bloomed and moved around his feet excitedly. He couldn't help but squirm though, the end of his life just the slightest motion away, causing the wolf to growl, the deep noise making his skull ache like a hammer had been pounding into his head.
The wolf did just as he said he would, sniffing at his chest, neck, face. There was a curious sensation to the breaths mussing his wool, it made the coat of wool tingle and grow itchy, slowly growing thicker as the nose searched his body, moving down Cyrin's stomach to his groin. The wolf pushed his nose up against his small package, nosing at his scrotum and down to his asshole. He wanted to move away, the touch of the spirit so intimate he'd never felt it before on his body, but he dreaded what the wolf might do if he were to move.
The wolf's muzzle opened and the spirit licked at his chest. They were slow, laborious licks, almost as if the spirit weren't tasting him, but something more intimate. Cyrin's eyes widened and his eyes looked down, underneath the wolf, seeing the tip of his cock beginning to emerge. This close, the cock seemed as thick as his leg, just resting in it's sheath. He couldn't take it, he knew he couldn't. It would kill him, and while being eaten was one thing, being split open like that was not something he wanted to endure.
Cyrin pushed off the ground away from the wolf and rolled onto his stomach, trying to get himself away from the wolf, taking a chance of fleeing. Best case scenario, he got away, worst, the wolf killed him before he got a chance to get fucked by the large wolf, but he wasn't nearly fast enough. The wolf promptly pressed a paw into Cyrin's back, pinning him down.
"Please, no! You'll split me in half! Kill me however you want, just not like that!" Cyrin pleaded, clawing at the ground, trying desperately to get some purchase.
The spirit lowered his head, gently licking at the back of Cyrin's neck. It made his skin shiver, a warm tingling trailing down his spine with each lap of the large tongue at the base of his skull. He was vulnerable, but he didn't want the wolf to stop. It was intoxicating, an intimate touch he'd never known. It made him want to submit to the wolf so long as his tongue continued those languishing licks on his body. Some small part of him wanted to crawl away, but he felt his resistance weakening, his mind slowly accepting the spirit's attentions. The wolf rumbled deeply, and nuzzled at his cheek as he stopped pulling away, a paw coming to his hip to draw him back. The paw hooked in underneath him, drawing his ass up into the air. Cyrin could feel his paws rubbing at his side, tongue continuing to bathe his wool.
There was something about the touch of the spirit that made sparks fly across his nerves, heat tickling into his skin, soaking into his body and spreading out. He felt so wet, even filthy, but it felt so right. He couldn't help but softly moan as he felt the tongue change to the other side of his back, spreading more of the thick, viscous saliva into his wool. It made his bones feel weak, muscles malleable.
The tongue moved lower, tracing down his back, coming to the crest of his ass cheeks. The wolf's nose pushed his tail to the side before pushing into the cleavage of his ass. Cyrin gasped as he felt the tongue run between his cheeks, the large muscle lapping from his balls over his taint then asshole. It ran over and over the intimates of his lower extremities, his cock slowly growing harder. The tongue gave his length a lick, curling around it a moment before drawing up again, the tongue slowly working it's way into his asshole. Cyrin's muzzle opened and he weakly moaned, stretching around the thick muscle and clenching.
Cyrin was a virgin, in just about every sense of the word. In a village of sheep who only saw breeding as a means of pro-creating, someone doing so much as masturbating was the highest of taboos. While Cyrin very often ignored that taboo, he would never dare to use his asshole in such a way, though the thought was often tempting.
He was not prepared for this in the slightest for the feeling, wetness pushing up against his untested hole, each lick lubricating him further, weakening his defense until it pushed past his opening. The licks into him were shallow at first, barely opening his ring, but as the tongue lapped into him the tingling spread, his tail-hole relaxing in such a way it felt almost as if his asshole were growing larger to accept the tongue into him. After a moment he couldn't help himself but to push back against the wolf, encouraging the tongue deeper.
He soon feeling the weight of a paw on his lower back, holding him firmly. Cyrin felt the spirit's wet nose press up against the base of his tail as his tongue pressed in harder and deeper. Quite, submissive moans came from his throat with each spreading lick, the girth of the tongue pushing with such force he felt it threaten to push him forward were it not for the paw.
His breathing was heavy, hands grasping at the ground as he moaned, simply enjoying the new sensation. The walls of his ass tingled with a growing heat, his cock, though not particularly big, hard in a way he'd never felt before in his life, practically drooling with pre-cum. He couldn't see how it could get any better, but then he felt a spark of beautiful pleasure. His walls tightened and hips bucked, his fingers grabbing fist fulls of grass as the tongue pressed up against his prostate. He felt like was going to cum on the spot, and when the wolf's tongue pressed up against it again, he did, balls tightening hard and cock throbbing as it spilled out his meager load into the dirt.
"Aaaah, fuuuck meeee," Cyrin groaned, surprising himself as the words escaped his lips. His hips rocking into the air, thrusting his cock into an imaginary lover as the spirit's tongue continued to milk over his prostate with his tongue.
Cyrin had trouble thinking, his balls aching as the wolf's tongue made spill what felt like decade's worth of cum. He could scarcely believe how much was coming from him, and yet it still felt so good. He didn't want it to stop, he couldn't let it stop. It was as though for the first time in his life he felt right, like this was where he belonged, what he was destined to be. His head shakily nodded and struggled to moan out, "Y-yeeesss. Make m-aaah, me yours."
The wolf pulled his paw back from Cyrin's back and withdrew his tongue from the sheep's asshole, leaving him to whimper and clench at the emptiness that filled him. Cyrin took some consolation though in the licks up his back as the wolf repositioned himself above his sacrifice. Despite his experience, Cyrin knew what was coming next, his hands grabbing at the wolf's fore legs and holding them tight as the spirit hunched over his back and canid paws grabbed at him, drawing him back.
He clenched hard at the wolf's legs as he felt the tapered tip push up against his asshole, the tickle of the impossibly soft sheath between his cheeks just before the cock began to push into him. Though it emerged right from the sheath into his ass, it felt like it was chiseled from stone, so hard as it spread him open wider than the tongue had as it pushed into him. But there was no pain, not even so much as an odd discomfort as the cock filled his ass with rock hard girth, stomach bulging out with the impossibility of it's size in his small body.
His cock began to cum again, the girth applying unfathomable pressure to the gland of his prostate, but his balls no longer ached, simply released with a constant pleasure. Cyrin moaned in delight and pushed back, bucking his hips as he felt the tip hit a wall. The wolf corrected the angle of his cock, pulling back and driving forward again, sinking down into him to push deeper, making the bulge in his stomach obscenely large, looking as though the shaft might tear through at any moment, but held fast as the wolf began to pump his hips in and out.
The pleasure was overwhelming, Cyrin's eyes closing as the wolf rutted into him, the thrusts growing faster and harder, making his cum splatter in errant streams on the ground and against his stomach and chest. He was too lost to notice how loud he was being, or that the forest around them had grown silent in their lovemaking, but he was beyond caring for anything but the wolf he'd given himself to.
Tingling filled his body as the cock made use of his asshole, pre-cum slowly leaking from the cock into him, filling his walls and spreading it deeper with each thrust. The wolf's head lowered itself down, muzzle opening to lick at his mouth, then soon into it as he opened his muzzle wider to let the tongue push in. Thick saliva poured into his mouth with the lupine muscle lapping into his maw, and he all too eagerly drank it down, suckling on the tongue as his own small muscle lapped over the large invader, his stomach soon filling with a weight.
As he eagerly accepted the cock into him, Cyrin felt odd, in a way more than just pleasure could explain. Something was changing, he could feel it, heat spreading through out his body, swelling in his muscles and joints. Subtle pops and creaks of bones as they grew, shrank, reshaped into something else. He was getting bigger, he was quite certain of that at the very least, feeling the cock sunk into his ass not stretching him open nearly as wide. He missed it a little, and pushed back harder against the wolf.
The wolf's muzzle lowered itself, gently biting into the nape of his neck. Part of him knew it would be easy for the wolf to destroy him with the slightest big of pressure, but he found it strangely comforting, holding him as the cock drew back. He cried out, head lifting as he felt the cock sink in, growing thicker as it pushed in, the tug out drawing him back as it continued to expand. More and more the cock grew with in him, copious drippings of the wolf's pre-cum bathing his rectum as the girth stretched him open wider. The tingling grew deeper, his ass yawning open impossibly wide, and yet making him feel nothing but pleasure as his cock drooled cum in streams. "Mmmmmooore," he begged, feeling the deepening ache pushing out his hips as the cock bulged his stomach up to his chest.
Except his chest had changed, a deep barrel that stretched further back into a lean undercarriage. His legs had likewise changed by shortening, his arms reforming to be better suited for walking on fours. His hands soon matched his feet, cloven hooves capped with a dense blackness that showed no glint of light. His eyes opened to look at his body, only to see his own face changed in front of his eyes, muzzle stretched out in front of his face into a more bestial shape than his more evolved form.
In his position Cyrin struggled to look over himself, but slowly the image of his new body came into view. He was a quadruped as much as the wolf pounding into his ass was, a sheep beneath the large canine, yet unlike any other quadrupedal sheep one might find in a yard. His wool turning black in such a way that the light around them seemed to grow darker by his presence.
Yet as curious as this was, what was even more so was that he was capable of taking so much of the thick cock as he looked down, feeling it pierce deep, but seeing the actual degree with which it deformed him. It should have been agony, the tip pushing just short of his front legs, but even now he still wanted more. He wanted to stuffed until it hurt, stretched him open until he couldn't walk but his pleas for more came out only as a feral bleats of pleasure.
The wolf's teeth held tighter to his neck, paws drawing back as his thrusts grew harder and deeper. Hot breaths bathed over his neck, heat pulsating in his ass as pre-cum continued to flow into him. His eyes closed and he pushed back into each thrust, bleating with each thrust into his ass, still feeling his body slowly shift underneath the wolf, cock growing smaller and smaller, balls tucking up until his malehood acted as little more than a cumming clit for his asshole. He didn't care though, nothing he had ever done with his cock felt anywhere near as good as this. He wanted it to end.
The spirit drove in deep, his thrusts growing shallow as the heavy weight of the balls clapped hard against his ass. Cyrin felt the cock throb in him, his head throwing back as the base started to swell with in him, stretching his opening wider. The heat with in him made his stomach ache, throbbing as some unseen change took hold as the wolf neared his peek. He howled out, wanting to beg for the wolf's cum to fill him, a deep seated desire to be filled with every drop from the orbs making his ass sore.
The wolf's muzzle opened and his head pushed forward, locking with Cyrin's own, tongue pushing in as his own met with the wolf's. His body trembled and he felt it spill into him, thick, powerful streams forcing their way up the cock into his bowels. Each heavy stream felt like tar, flowing into his stomach and coating the walls in sticky jets that clung to the turns and coils inside of him. He clenched around the cock as it filled him, his belly slowly growing round as what felt like gallons made his stomach its new home. It filled him with an odd sense of fulfillment that spread through out his body.
It grew harder to think as the wolf filled his ass with cum, stomach swelling in a way that seemed impossible. He could feel it churn heavily in his stomach, an uneasy rumble that would have accompanied feeling sick any other time, but it was oddly relaxing, and undeniably pleasurable, even as it began to leak from his muzzle. It became that Cyrin could think of nothing but the feeling of the spirit's cock filling him, his cock still a constant stream of cum that was pooling underneath him, yet somehow his wool coat managed to stay perfectly clean; not that he cared in the slightest.
The spirit broke the kiss after a moment and Cyrin followed the wolf's lips until he was unable to reach any further, though he did receive a lick on the nose for his efforts, something that made him unimaginably happy. The wolf nuzzled at his neck, then bit into it once again. Cyrin stood still, holding his head perfectly in place as he felt the wolf's paws grip in front of his hips a little more firmly. He was more than happy to submit to the magnificent beast, it felt right, like it was his purpose in life, his destiny.
For all he cared anymore, it was.
The wolf bit down hard, far harder than it had before, but no skin broke and no pain followed as he gripped. The wolf's claws held fast as well, sinking into his hide, but never quite piercing it in a way that drew blood. It would have been interesting if the wolf's knot hadn't start to tug at his asshole. Cyrin threw his head back, trying to cry out, but only a gurgle of cum leaked from his overflowing throat, not that he cared. He relished the taste of it, it was like ambrosia, miles better than the bottle of wine he'd had, and the feeling the knot at his asshole only made him lose himself more to the bliss of the pleasure.
His hooves planted themselves firmly on the ground and he pulled forward, pushing back when his ass could take no more, pulling forward as the wolf tugged back again. He felt a sudden give and heard an audible, wet pop, emptiness beginning to replace the fullness as the spirit pulled out his cock. His hips bucked as he felt the cum gush out of his ass, the bulge of his stomach slowly deflating, letting him bleat out a moan as he trembled. His ring gaped wide, flexing and quivering as he tried to close it to keep the cum in. However, it was a fruitless effort, not only because it wouldn't close all the way, but also because after a while the flow of cum simply stopped, much of it trapped so deep inside of him it would take hours to leak out of his ruined ass.
It wasn't enough though, Cyrin wanted more, bleating out as he wiggled his ass in the air at the wolf. The wolf licked his muzzle and nuzzled at his neck, filling him with a strange sensation of comfort. In fact, he knew it was necessary, if only for now. The moon's glow fading above them, their time here was over. The wolf curled up around him, and Cyrin nuzzled into his new lover, his mate as their bodies began to fade from this plane of existence.
Time seemed to pass much quicker for Cyrin and his mate. It was a blur to him of constant pleasure, cumming without end, never sleeping, never eating, stopping for nothing. They had no words to speak, only the grunts and moans of animal pleasure, yet Cyrin learned so much of the wolf spirit. About who he was, his purpose, but more importantly, why the sacrifices.
The shamans of Cyrin's village were not the brightest bunch. Where the wolf spirit had asked for one pure of spirit, they had interpreted it as a sheep with white wool, not a virgin as the spirit had requested. It was a necessity for him to have a mate, a virgin to willingly offer themselves to him for as long as there were stars in the sky. Gender didn't matter, not for a creature that transcended the material realm. He could make his mate what he needed, and with time his mate, which was to say Cyrin, could even change himself if he wanted.
Not that Cyrin cared. He was able to enjoy pleasures he wasn't able to before, to be himself, to be more. It would take years, centuries to be as powerful as his new mate, but the wolf could help, he could understand Cyrin's desires and thoughts, and help mold his body. For now though, he was content being the wolf's, figurative, bitch.
It even filled him with some degree of excitement to know he was pregnant, and something that had seemed so impossible before. But he knew, even before he felt the eggs' weight pressing down inside of him, shifting ever so slightly with each deeply penetrating thrust from the wolf. They made him so big and round, but size barely mattered when you needed nothing but to be constantly fucked. Though time bled together, he was certain he quickly passed the five months women in his village carried their lambs, but they still continued to grow.
He soon relished the feeling of the eggs more than the wolf's cock in his ass, dense and round, changing the depths of his colon to something that no longer had any other use. His ass was his cunt, his stomach his womb, even better, more pleasurable, covered constantly in thick seed. Some days he wondered how large he would get, often wishing he'd never give birth, but eventually the day would come. He knew as much as the wolf did, the day they returned to the mortal realm.
Indeed, the day did come, a year after Cyrin offered himself as a sacrifice. He barely noticed it, too lost in the sensation of his wolf's teeth on his neck and the claws in the oversized dome of his pregnant belly. They arrived suspended in the air, his bleats loud, echoing as they escaped his muzzle. The bright shape of the wolf above him, illuminating the grove as his own dark wool absorbed his lover's light and created an infinitely dark shadow beneath him.
He was covered in cum completely, but no one would see it, the luminous qualities of the glowing seed absorbed by his wool. There was one thing his wool couldn't hide though, the dim glow of the eggs in his stomach, pulsing like a distant star, growing faster the more their bodies became solid the realm Cyrin once called home. Slowly they descended and Cyrin felt the ground beneath his stomach, his stomach far too large to let his hooves touch the ground. The wolf's weight pulled his rear end back down to the ground, knot sunk in too deep to let him slide out of Cyrin's ass.
His bleats echoed into the dark forest around them as his insignificant cock continued to stream out with cum, arching up as his mate's weight drew him down. His eyes opened and he tried looking down, hearing a shriek after her came. He saw a sheep, a ewe, looking far older than he had when he sacrificed himself. He knew her, a mother of six, grandmother of nearly three dozen, about average for people in his village. Her name was Lyra, she was a good enough person, with her own share of faults and flaws, but he'd never known her to do anything particularly bad. Then again, most of the people who had offered themselves tended to be kind people who thought of others more than themselves. Had to be if you were going to willingly sacrifice yourself.
Cyrin had, unfortunately, covered her face with cum, and he was unable to stop himself from covering her more as the spirit ground the knot into his prostate. More and more of his seed covered her body, black streams as dark as his own wool, staining her white coat and red dress. He wanted to tell her to move away, but his tongue was not capable of speech. She was too stunned by what she saw to move, the cum making her flinch, but not move. The thrusts from the wolf made him cover her more and more, up and down as his tiny cock bobbed.
It soaked into her fur in an unnatural way, no longer nearly as dark as it had been, but changing her wool, spreading out as it grew darker. Lyra was becoming a black sheep, but in the process, she was getting younger by the moment, the gravity of age retreating back. Before long she was as young as he had been before being transformed, clothes a soiled mess of cum, but her wool as black as any sheep born with it, and yet she still hadn't noticed the change.
She did though, when he bleated out in surprise, feeling and odd shifting in his stomach. As she gawked at the changes his cum had on her, he was squirming as eggs pushed down on the wolf's cock. Cyrin groaned, feeling the stretching open the turns of his colon, traveling down as the wolf's cum slickened their passage. He could have pulled out, Cyrin's ass was elastic enough to let the huge knot slip free, but the wolf only held tighter, his thrusts filling Cyrin with a sudden gush of seed.
Spasms pushed the eggs down his tunnel, the ache of the contractions almost forgotten for the pleasure that came from them stretching out his already wide colon. He felt one stop for a moment, pressing against the tip of the wolf's cock, but neither the wolf nor the eggs would be dissuaded. His body trembled as the cock pushed the egg aside, continuing down the path, grinding along the wolf's cock until the rounded tip pressed up against the knot.
Cyrin saw stars, stretched so wide his battered, swollen prostate was ground into finally ceasing to cum for the first time in a year. The stream ceased from his cock and the wolf bit hard into his neck. The cock tugged up, forcing open his asshole wide enough to let the knot out, but keeping firmly sunk in. No, the cock wasn't going to exit him, not in the slightest. The wolf was making room, prying open his already ruined ring to let the eggs slide out, but they would need help.
Cyrin closed his eyes and bleated breathlessly as he pushed, bearing down as best he could. He didn't want the egg or his wolf's cock out, but he needed to push them out, his body needed it so they could make more. The wolf pushed back against his muscles, but the egg had no such force, drawing open his asshole along side the knot, popping free and falling to the ground, finally allowed to cum in a mighty burst of seed as it finally exited him
It was perhaps the size of small adult's head, the shell a neutral gray covered in the thick, glowing essence of the wolf's cum. It continued to warm the egg, as it settled onto the ground, occasionally rocking as the child with in began to rouse into consciousness, long over due to break free and walk in the mortal realm. They were conceived here, and here they would live, the extra months in Cyrin's stomach, covered in the wolf's cum, teaching them all they would need to know to be safe, to protect the forest and the sheep in the village.
But that was only the first egg, first of many. He pushed, cock ceasing to cum only after the egg pushed out with a gout of the thick, white seed, more pouring in as the wolf continued to rock against his back. His stomach slowly deflated with the eggs coming out, the weight of the wolf helping to push them out. As his body came closer to the ground the wolf pushed down harder, forcing them out harder and faster. The knot slipped free, three sliding from his impossibly widely gaping ring only for the wolf to roughly thrust back in once they were free.
His hooves eventually returned to the ground, nearly three dozen eggs resting in a pile behind them. His muscles were weak, his asshole feeling so stretched out the wolf's thrusts couldn't help but pop the knot in and out of him with ease, yet he still felt one in in him. He couldn't push it out, even if he tried. With their time shortly ending, the wolf pulled himself free and drew his muzzle down underneath his lover's tail. Cyrin felt the coldness of a nose press into him, leaking cum, the wolf's muzzle nuzzled into his devastated asshole.
Cyrin let out a weak bleat as the spirit pushed his in, seeking for the final egg. He easily stretched for it the head, but it was such a foreign sensation, the fur brushing against his gaping walls. The wolf's nose pressed up against one of the eggs and slowly opened his muzzle. Cyrin's cock gave out another stream into the puddle of cum pooling beneath him as the spirit grabbed the egg and pulled it back. Cyrin pushed as best he could until he felt both the egg and the wolf's head slide free.
His asshole dripped with cum, empty, open so wide the ewe could probably reach into him and not touch the walls. Yet, despite the ache of being so open, he wanted to be filled again, a desire he hadn't felt in so long. He knew what it was now: heat. He needed to be bred again, and bred now, but he knew there were his children to think about, still trapped in their eggs. His head turned to look, only to be mounted again by the wolf. He bleated in delight as the wolf's cock sank into him again, larger than it had been before to make up for the notable gape his ring had from laying while being penetrated.
He groaned, stomach bulging out from the oversized cock splitting him open as he heard one of the eggs crack open, then another. They started to hatch quite quickly, a dozen pups, an odd hybrid of sheep and wolf. Canine muzzle, sheep ears, hooves in the back, paws in the front, a bushy tail covered with fur as wool covers much of the rest of their body. They sniffed at one another, male, the lot of them, licking one another clean then sniffing at their parents. The wolf nosed towards the black ewe, who had been silent until this moment. A few of the pups walked up to her, sniffing and licking, while others greeted their parents during their mating.
Cyrin nosed and licked at a few of his children, but the spirit was too busy, already cumming in him again to fill him with more eggs as black seed spilled on the ground. They drank from Cyrin's seed, a few suckling at the small cock as their bodies began to fade. They began to grow, maturing into capable guardians. It made Cyrin smile to see them all grown, licking and nuzzling at the marked sheep.
Lyra would be a new shaman for the village, their conduit to this world. There would no longer be any miscommunication. She would watch their pups as they would watch the village, pick those worthy of their blessing on the next visit, even carry some of their children's pups when the time came. Until then, Cyrin and the wolf had to leave. Fading from this existance as his stomach rounded with the thick seed, glowing white. He couldn't wait until the next year.