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CONTENT WARNING:

The story you are about to read contains explicit and detailed depictions of the following:

Sexual Coercion

Dubious Consent/Regretfulness

Mention of Circumcision

Dark Magic

Reader discretion is advised

As Malroth descended the cold cobblestone stairs of the chapel, his mind was entirely elsewhere, yet not far away at all.

Still, Bartholomew's words tempted his thoughts back to the here and now every so often. “I'm quite surprised they don't entrust you to these sorts of tasks on your own by now. But who am I to say I suppose."

It had indeed been several years since Malroth first entered these hallowed grounds. Not as a usurper, not as an act of conflict, but to join them. He wished to become–

Tract Four – The Acolyte

“Mentiroso was your name, yes?"

The goat nodded as he bowed before the Priests's inquiry.

“Hmm" the older canine scanned the small pile of loosely stacked papers to his right. “I've not seen anyone by that name come across our records."

There was a silence after his words that hung in the air a little too long for Malroth's liking. “I am not from here originally. If need be I can produce–“

The deacon, a condor to the left of the priest, waved his hand. “Not to worry, things like this happen all the time. Just give us some time after your probationary period to update our census should you make it that far."

The goat almost breathed a sigh of relief until that last sentence crossed his ears. “'Probationary period' if I may ask?"

The canine nodded as he looked up from his papers, pressing his fingers together. “Of course. All those who wish to join our congregate must first provide servitude for us without rank before they're considered fully 'part' of us. We cannot allow just anyone with a pulse to enter our doors and assume our titles, and thusly we will not. So think of this period is an assessment of potential for both parties. Is this agreeable?"

Malroth paused once again. He nodded.

“It is, father."

* * *

Four years since those words were pulled by in an instant, and brought the goat back to the present by Bartholomew's words yet again.

“It is curious to me how in all this time not once has there been discussion of your ascent to subdeaconship."

“Their trust is, of course, my sole way to such a goal. But on the other hand, it is not within my control to when it is obtained." Malroth wasted no time in his reply, one he'd given the badger several times at this point. “You seem… impatient to their arrival of such a decision. Is there any reason for that, brother?"

Bartholomew shook his head. “Perhaps… my impatience isn't as subtle as I'd like it to be. I merely feel someone of your mind and age is better served more on high than helping one such as me."

Malroth could find no suitable answer to his companion's words at the present moment. But it mattered little, as they'd finally arrived at the basement cellar, whose walls were lined with portly wooden barrels filled with wine. Inspecting each of these barrels would be their chore for the day.

The badger produced two small communion cups from his bag, and handed one to Mentiroso.

“I truly do apologize that you must accompany me in this once again. Hopefully one day you will be rid of this dreadful endeavor for good."

The goat thought he detected a hint of need in Bartholomew's voice. Deciding to dance an engagement with it, he shook his head.

“Trust in my words, dear friend. I greatly enjoy our time. It's nothing short of fulfilling. Besides, no work done here is in vain."

There it was, a small twinkle in the older man's eyes. Malroth saw it clear as day, even in the dim glow of the cellar torchlight. The goat risked a grin all to himself. Unaware, his companion nodded.

“I suppose so. Now, let us begin our duty." The badger said, adjusting his glasses.

The work was slow, very slow. First, a barrel must be removed from its stand and inspected in all areas to ensure no leaks had sprung and no rust or rot had formed on the hoops or staves. Then the spigot tested to ensure it had not broken. Finally, the wine itself tasted by the two of them to ensure its quality had not waned. This is all before the barrel is placed upon its stand once more and the two move on to the next barrel.

It was presumably into the later afternoon when Malroth noticed the awareness of his companion begin to slip. Experienced as he was in his duty, Bartholomew wasn't immune to the effects of the grape. But this was different. It wasn't usually this strong, nor had it come over him so throughly before.

“Bartholomew, you'd been drinking since before this task began have you?" Malroth said, only barely containing the facade of his upbraid.

The badger could not face his companion. “It's been… a troubling time as of late. I have spent my whole life here. I've worked for this church since before I could remember. But there is little I can do in my age other than check these barrels. I…" There was a long pause before Bartholomew finally turned to the goat, tightly gripping the beads around his neck.

“I had taken some wine, last time I was here. I hid it for myself, even from you. I had a moment of weakness. 'I should take this' I thought to myself. 'I have earned it', I felt at the time. 'I give so much to this place, who would notice it?' I said to myself. I immediately regretted it. I kept it in my cupboard, vowed to never touch it. But the thought of coming back down here once again today, counting the barrels, checking them over even once again. I felt I needed it to dull my feelings. It helped… for a time."

Malroth could see tears begin to form in the badger's inky eyes. He held the man's hands up to his own. “There there, brother. I fully understand. We each carry immense burdens. Both through our strengths and our weaknesses. I shall tell no one of your deeds, for it does not involve me."

“Oh but you must, Mentiroso! They must know what I've done!"

The goat shook his head, “Yet they will not hear it from me. I cannot stop you, nor shall I try. But your act had no impact on me, and you have done me no wrong in my all time here. I see no reason to reward someone like you in such a way, not for anything this small."

Bartholomew wiped his eyes, “You truly mean that?"

Malroth nodded, “Of course. Like you said, how would they know? Does it stain your robes like it does your heart? I don't see it doing so."

“Thank you, Mentiroso. You… are too kind to an old man like me."

Malroth put his hands on the badger's shoulders. “You've done more than I could currently ask of you. You've given me a place here, even when others would hardly speak to me."

At this, Bartholomew cocked his head. “Is this true?"

The goat nodded, “Indeed, yes. It seems many do not trust me, even after the years and words I've given to them." Mentiroso looked off into the distance for a moment before returning, “but enough regarding struggle. We've much work left to do. Please, if you would, help me lift this barrel back to its rightful place."

Bartholomew attempted to hold the rear end of the barrel, but his now damp metacarpal pad caused his grip to slip. “Watch out!" He yelped, as he felt the heavy object fall.

The spigot crashed into the side of Malroth's chest, causing it to break off from the barrel and pour a large volume of its contents onto the caprinae before colliding with the ground.

The two of them stood there in silence, regaining their composure and catching their breath. “I– Mentiroso, I'm SO sorry! Are you hurt?" Bartholomew sputtered, on the verge of a panic.

Malroth squatted down, attempting to fit the spigot back into its hole in the side of the barrel. He shook his head, “No, thankfully. It didn't hurt a bit. No need to worry about me." He gave the spigot a few hearty pushes, checking the seal. Damaged, but would do for now.

His robes on the other hand, as he stood up, were the ones who took the most damage. There was a tear in the side where the barrel's full force had struck, but more apparent than that was the large dark stain that had spread across most of the garment. Removed from the context, it could easily be seen as blood, but Malroth assured the badger that it was simply wine. Malroth then reached down to the sweep on his robes and began lifting it up past his knees.

“What are you doing!?" Bartholomew inquired, even more shock in his voice than there was before.

The goat paused, “it's cold down here, and my robe is now wet. Likely permanently stained with wine. I'd like to minimize risk of ailment by removing it as soon as possible. Besides my fur is plenty to keep me warm." He resumed pulling his robes up and over himself until they were fully off, revealing his bare form save for a simple linen braies.

Malroth noticed his companion had turned away once more. “Bring ease to yourself, Bartholomew. We are but two men, and I care not if you see me like this."

Bartholomew turned back, but still averted his gaze towards the goat. His hands once again clutching his beaded necklace. Malroth sighed, “If you cannot turn your eyes to me, can you at least guide your hands to helping me lift this barrel back into place?" Bartholomew nodded, and helped him place the barrel on the stand.

The two men continued their work, but a silence hung over them like a bell dangling on its last thread. Bartholomew still could barely meet Mentiroso's eyes. They were towards the end of the barrels on the far side of the cellar when Malroth caught a glimpse of it. An unmistakable peak forming on the lower half of the badger's robes. The goat grinned once again, briefly, before composing himself. “Bartholomew? What thoughts occupy your mind?"

“Ahh, oh, I…. I shouldn't, I'm… I've simply" The older male stammered. “I've never seen anyone wear so little."

Malroth nodded, “I see. Not even your wife?"

The badger shook his head. “Not her either, no. We never… we haven't…"

“No need to explain, I understand completely." The goat said. He noticed the peak in Bartholomew's robes had grown even more pronounced. He dared himself to prod further. “Still, it's quite unfair that one of us is still stuck to those robes while the other is freed."

Bartholomew turned away from his companion once again, clearly embarrassed. “Freed, Mentiroso?"

Malroth let out a warm chuckle, “poor wording on my part, perhaps. Though I can tell you're sweating as well. Do you feel warm? It's not just… 'that' causing it is it? I can help you out of this garment, if you wish."

Bartholomew emboldened himself to turn his head back to the goat, if just a little bit. “Mentiroso, this is… this isn't appropriate is it? This doesn't lead anywhere right."

“But I shall ask you, Bartholomew, does it truly feel wrong? What parts of you say it's wrong, and what parts are inclined to do it? Think upon it well. How can we truly judge what is wrong, what is sin, if we don't understand it?" There was a pause before Malroth repeated himself: “Let me help you."

The goat positioned himself behind his companion and began to pull up on the badger's robe. He could feel the other man tense up, but not resist. Before long, Bartholomew stood before Malroth, still turned away from him, but completely naked. “Nothing under your robes, brother? My, my. Perhaps you are a dirty one." Malroth said, almost hissing.

“Apologies for my indecency, Mentiroso. I've never truly known what to do underneath my robes." Bartholomew shivered, adjusting to the cool cellar air gracing his bare fur.

“Well it matters little now that we've discarded of them, doesn't it?" Malroth crooned. He wrapped his hands around the larger male, gently feeling his dry & aging fur. “You're incredibly soft, brother."

Bartholomew's hand met Mentiroso's, the other still clutching his beads “s-st– be caref– ahh!"

Malroth rested his head on Bartholomew's shoulder, continuing to explore the other man. The gentle curves of his belly and chest were laid under a river of soft dark fur, speckled with dancing patches of grey, showing clearly his older age. He felt the older badger's heavy breathing in the way his chest moved. Despite the man being turned away, Malroth could clearly see the white fur that capped his head and face. It created two streaks of black fur that ran over his ears and down his face to his nose. “Sensitive are we? Just tell me when to stop."

Nothing of the sort was uttered from the badger's lips. Just a quiet moment between the two of them alone in the cellar. Finally, Malroth felt the tip of his shaft stretch the front of his braies to their limits. He took one hand away from Bartholomew and gently undid the string holding the garment to his waist, letting it fall gently to the stone floor.

Malroth pressed himself against the other male once more, He brought his muzzle back to the badger's neck and inhaled, immersing himself in the aromas of hearths and wines that danced around the male's natural body scent. Bartholomew could only moan in response.

He wrapped his arms once again around Bartholomew, eventually finding his way to the badger's own shaft. Long, surprisingly so, but thin. Not frail, but very little girth. Malroth felt around at the tip, discovering the point where the male had been circumcised. It seemed to radiate heat. It was slick too. Past the point of damp from leaking, which could now be heard hitting the floor.

The goat attempted to gently stroke Bartholomew's organ, before feeling it reflexively throb. “Sto– Pleaaah!" Bartholomew groaned, the fragments of syllables barely comprehensible in his speech.

Malroth nodded “I see."

“Ssssee?" The badger barely said.

“You're so pent up, so desperate for freedom. For release." Malroth cooed, now gently grinding himself on the badger, causing the latter to squirm. “I can give you that. Right here, right now. All you have to do is turn around and face me."

There was a long pause, a long silent pause. A mind on fire, torment, desire. Slowly, after what seemed like an eternity and more, Bartholomew turned to face his companion. Holding onto him as if for safety.

Quickly his eyes widened and he turned his head in embarrassment after laying gaze upon Malroth's full nakedness. The sight of a gold ring around the base of the goat's cock was particularly shocking. “Mentiroso.. how have… I've never seen–"

“Come here then. I'll show you all you could ever want. " Malroth said, bringing himself closer to his companion, pulling his hands away from his eyes. He began pulling the larger male downward. Laying the badger down on his back on the ground. His own knees and lower legs meeting the ground as well. They lay in a break between two barrels, obscured to most views in the hallway. Once he'd gotten the older male where he wanted, the goat went to work.

He spread the badger's legs apart, exposing the man's most sensitive spots to the old cellar air. More quivering and whimpering, Malroth would get him used to this feeling yet. He made his way up the larger man's body. He met him face to face, kissing him on the lips. Bartholomew winced at first, trying to turn away, before acquiescing somewhat. “Ssssdd-don't"

Malroth did stop for now, but he continued on with his inspection of Bartholomew's form. He truly was a beautiful man with a beautiful body. Such a shame he spent so much of his time using it so seldomly, but that was soon to change of course.

The goat clenched his hands together into a fist before spreading them, forming a circular shape between them, a green ring of energy forming between them as well. Bartholomew's eyes widened. “M–Magic? It's not supposed to exist!"

Malroth nodded solemnly, “And we're not supposed to be doing what we're about to do. But fear not brother, neither of these things will harm us." The goat said, and he glided the magic downward. He first threaded Bartholomew's shaft through the center, who began squirming, moaning, and adjusting to the increased warmth of the area. Then Malroth guided the loop around his own shaft, which throbbed in pleasure at the slick wetness that enveloped it.

“Wh– what did you do to us?" Bartholomew shivered once more.

“I've gotten us ready. That is, so long as you are." The goat said matter-of-factly.

Bartholomew winced at Mentiroso's words, but didn't find the words to protest.

“Then no more words will be needed. Hold still now." Malroth said, positioning the tip of his shaft to the badger's rear entrance. Another round of squirming and twitching erupted from Bartholomew's body, but the goat pressed on. On until half of his penis was inside the badger's warm canal.

In and out he raised and sank himself into his companion. Grunting and bleating on occasion as he did so, for the older male was tight as the screws on a cart. But the more of the badger he explored, the looser this partner became. Bartholomew grunted at the rough intrusion, occasionally biting down on Mentiroso's flesh as he did so.

Malroth plunged himself faster and faster, his thighs colliding with the cool cobblestone floor as he fucked the old man missionary, keeping his legs spread wide as he swiftly reached the upper end of his limits.

After it felt like Malroth's arousal would go down, it rose right back up again. Stronger than ever. He felt himself reach past the point of no return. He pulled all the way back before diving his full length into Bartholomew. His balls and ring colliding with the base of the badger's tail and anus. From his tip was released a hot wave of pleasure the goat had never felt before. Pulsing through his whole body like a wildfire, only to return to his shaft again before beginning anew.

Time slipped in and out of existence, his whole body ached, his heartbeat so heavily the goat could hear it. He continued thrusting until his pelvis collapsed, forcing his shaft to slip out of Bartholomew's hole, carrying much of the goat's spent seed with it and causing it to pool on the floor.

The goat's breath finally caught back up to his lungs, his throat re-waxing itself with air at a proper rate. As his vision returned to normal, he found the badger was still panting and twitching, his own shaft begging for release. And who was Malroth to deny him?

He climbed upon the older male, his legs interlocking with his companions. He spread his fuzzy Caprinae cheeks with one hand and lowered himself onto the badger's erection. Malroth's shaft still dripping excess spent onto Bartholomew's belly.

Bartholomew attempted to say something, but his words drowned in his throat. The larger man gripped the sides of the stands on either side of them his feet scraping against the floor, trying desperately to abate the inevitable as Mentiroso raised and lowered himself on the male over and over.

The badger's whole body twitched and contorted, as if completely possessed by his own pleasure, reaching heights he never thought possible. And then, he fell. Try as he might to hold it back, his own orgasm pushed through his inhibitions and painted itself all over Mentiroso inner walls.

The goat felt warm and heavy as Bartholomew's climax continued. A man who had not used his tool before should be unaware of its strength after all. And strength it had, as the older man's climax seemed to stretch to infinity before finally waning.

Both of the males took heavy breaths. Malroth finally looked down upon his companion. It seems they were both equally lost in pleasure, as a fresh streak of goat seed was spread across the badger's chest and face, continuing onto the wall.

“I… I can't, ooooh" Bartholomew tried to moan.

“Shh. No words, remember?" Malroth crooned once more.

The two men sat upon each other for a while longer, before the goat's legs found the strength to barely lift himself up and off the badger's maleness. His backside immediately leaking as he did so. The goat collected his and Bartholomew's robe before turning back to his companion, still lying on the ground in shock.

“We… what did we–?" Bartholomew tried to find the words, but was cut short.

The two of them could hear the door to the cellar open. And voices could be heard on the other side, up the stairs. The two men looked at each other. Fear and panic grew upon Bartholomew's face.

“You cannot undo what we've done here. You know this. If we're discovered here, as we are now, our lives change forever. For the worse. You've told me you feel I deserve to be doing better things than this–" Mentiroso gestures to the barrels around them. “And you're right, more than you know. Come with me, and I'll show you the things I TRULY do."

When the badger's eyes returned to his companion, he noticed major changes in the goat's physique. Large twisted horns had sprouted from his head, his eyes almost glowed with a crimson hue, and his teeth were sharp like those of a predator.

“You'll live under me, you'll do as I say, live where I tell you to. But through that you will live a new life. A free life. You can do more once again. You can–" Mentiroso's words seemed to echo within the badger's head.

The voices of the clergy grew louder as they descended the stairs at the other end of the cellar. Malroth held out his hand. “We haven't much time. Do you accept to leave this behind for your own sake? Renew yourself into something greater? Or do you stay, do what you've always known as right until now, and accept the consequences?"

Bartholomew was breathing heavily, panic and fear truly setting in now. Abandon his entire life here? His wife? His house? His family? All that he had ever known was crumbling around him, and in its place was a dark void which only contained one thing: The goat that now stood before him in his true form. A form that seemed to cool the room even more, a form that terrified him.

But as the voices grew louder, he realized there was no choice. He could not face his brothers with what he'd done today. What he'd let happen. He couldn't face them, nor their judgement.

“Come with me, Bartholomew." The words once again echoed in his mind. His eyes squeezed shut. He finally, slowly, took the goat's hand.

A green light nearly blinded the badger before melting to orange. He could no longer feel Malroth's hand holding his. As he slowly opened his eyes and adjusted to the waning sunset, the rest of the world slowly came into view.

He was standing on a dirt path before a stone wall. Affixed to the stone wall was a pair of large wooden doors. Above the doors lay a plaque that read “Primero". Bartholomew looked down upon himself. He was still naked, fur matted with evidence of his acts.

“Your new life awaits. Simply step inside."

Malroth's voice echoed within him once more, as if answering his very apprehension. The badger reached out a shaky hand, gabbing the door. A single tear rolled down his cheek as he opened the door.