Tract Nulla – Malroth
Story by Gael Vulture on SoFurry
October 31st, 2023
A little over a year ago, completely on whim, I created Malroth. I was in a creative slump at the time. Struggling with two massive creative projects that were going absolutely nowhere.
One being the story of my main OCs, the other being a tabletop role playing concept that… well I’ll get back to it soon. The point was, I was struggling creatively around that time. A lot. And very little I was doing seemed to be helping.
That is except talking with my good friend Tecwyn (https://tecwyn.sofurry.com/)). He and I talk nearly every day, and love bouncing ideas back and forth. He’s been one of the greatest motivators and inspirations in my life these past few years and I truly don’t think a lot of what I do now would’ve happened without him.
So, to start getting to the point. At the time, we’d been talking about villain characters. I had one I was cooking up for something later, and he was thinking of villains he could make for his own projects as well.
It was all just a bit of a perfect storm. A perfect moment of external motivation, internal inspiration, the season, and general headspace resulted in this: The piece of prose you’re about to read. I do sincerely hope you enjoy it, and the ensuing follow ups.
This will absolutely not be a one-time-thing. There is more to this. And I shall unveil it in time. For now, let’s get on with the show with one final forewarning.
CONTENT WARNING
The story you are about to read contains explicit and detailed depictions of the following:
• Non-Consensual Sex & Penetration
• Cults, Dark Spells & Rituals
• Death
Reader discretion is advised
CONTENT WARNING:
The story you are about to read contains explicit and detailed depictions of the following:
Non-Consensual Sex & Penetration
Cults, Dark Spells & Rituals
Death
Reader discretion is advised, Check the description and tags for more information.
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Malroth stood before a large door. The wood gnarled with age, much like his horns.
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His piercing red eyes almost glowed from beneath his large crimson hood.
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11:56pm, he could not afford to miss this. Not after so many decades of waiting. He held up his hands and gave the door a push. It moaned like a beast as it gave way, granting him entrance to the stone tower illuminated by the faintest slice of moonlight. Within the center of the room were 8 figures.
His Brothers had been with him since the beginning, and they were gracious enough to be here to usher in a new one. In the center of their formation was an octagonal table, made of similar stone as the tower itself, though it was of a single piece and inscribed with markings older than Malroth himself. Upon the table was a figure, this time completely bare save for the red vines that bound his mouth together and limbs to the table.
Malroth approached the center of the room and bowed to each figure individually, to which they returned in kind. He looked upon the goat adhered to the table. Once their gaze was met, the captive made a feeble, silent attempt to struggle against the bindings before once again tiring out. To Malroth, the one on the table looked to be no more or less than 19. His eyes a deep green, but these details were less consequential than others. His fur immaculately combed save for a couple of spots that told the tale of his journey to the table on which he now lay. His musk smelled faintly of berries and hay, a product of the young male's homestead upbringing. “He's perfect" Malroth silently mouthed.
The old goat's back popped as he stood upright again. He looked to his hooded bothers and nodded. They nodded in return, took 3 paces backwards, raised their hooded heads and arms, and began their chant. A single deep note escaped their lungs before stopping. For a moment there was silence. Until ––
The markings began to fill with black almost as if absorbing light itself, which was now more visibly pouring in from the lone window at the top of the tower. A deep growl could be heard as a rebuttal, coming from the very air in the room. This was the signal for Malroth to take his next steps. He lifted his hood, which slid through his horns as if they had no mass at all. Once it fell behind his head he unfastened the front of his crimson robe and let it fall to the floor. The light could not fully illuminate his matted fur what had given up on hiding his numerous scars many moons ago, his teeth the color of mixed eggs, his hoofs fraying at the tips not unlike the rest of his fur. And of course; most importantly for tonight; his sagging and swaying manhood, which had seen many uses before this hour, but none more vital. Thus he was fully exposed to the cool night air.
Malroth gently climbed to the top of the table, feeling his anus make contact with the cool stone surface, a feeling he'd come to enjoy in the many times he'd found himself upon the table. Fully trusting it to repel the extra gravity, something he'd relied on many times before. He placed himself on his hands and knees above the young captor, who could only repeat his futile pattern of struggling and tiring.
The more Malroth gazed upon his prey, the more he fell in love. The red vines parted slightly as the older goat placed a long deep kiss within his prey's mouth, tasting the younger male and collecting hints of his humble diet before retrieving his tongue back within his own mouth. It was a shame, he thought, that romance was not his goal tonight. Lust and physical conquest, however, were thankfully well within his parameters.
The old goat sat back up, his spine's protest now drown out by the bass-y growl surrounding them. Malroth placed the tip of his penis at the entrance of the young goat's anus and he began his first bouts of thrusting into the warm crevasse. Slowly at first, no need to use too much force, though you'd never know it with the way his prey squirmed and twisted at his initial probing. A sensation Malroth enjoyed greatly.
Within no time the rest of the world faded away and Malroth found a rhythm that matched the drone that filled their heads, louder with each passing moment. His lanky body undulating as he forced his way deeper and deeper into the young male's tight, slick body. The air around them had become hot, lubricating their act and the old goats joints as he plundered deeper and deeper into the young male's body with his shaft. Malroth's fuzzy orbs and anus grinding back and forth along the cool table, stimulating him even more.
His breathing labored, his chest filling with tightness, his captor struggling with all his might. One of Malroth's loyal must have noticed this, as they appeared out of the dark brandishing a twisted dagger. Without words, the old goat held up his hand towards his Brother. No, there was no need. The bindings would hold and his body would not give.
Still, Malroth picked up the pace. The full length of his manhood forcing its way in and out with every thrust. He gripped the flesh surrounding the young goat's humerus to further steady himself. A pulsing sensation began in his chest, where Malroth's heart would be, and rippled through his body. Thus making his already frayed fur stand on end and a knotted feeling twist in his stomach.
The growl in Malroth's brain became all his thoughts, he gripped the younger male ever harder, squeezing the bones within. He slammed himself into the smaller, shuddering prey several final times before his tip unleashed its volley. Ropes and splashes of the old goat's seed painted the inner walls of his victim. It was hot, near boiling in temperature. It splattered on the table, on Malroth's pelvis area. The old goat continued to thrust, not wasting a moment or ounce of energy he had, as the young male's squirming sped up before weakening and eventually ceasing altogether.
The clock above them within the tower struck twelve times in a row.
Suddenly, there was silence. No sound save for the for the drip, drip, dripping of Malroth's spent onto the floor. His balls and shaft giving several more aching throbs before finally giving way. The beating in the old goat's chest stopped, his fur relaxed, and his arms and head feeling lighter than ever. He collapsed upon the younger goat's body. Slowly, as if afraid of retaliation, the red vines receded to beneath the table.
Had he done it? After all these years of search and sacrifice, had he finally succeeded?
One of his Brothers stepped forward, their footsteps the first thing to break the nearly deafening silence of the room. At this, Malroth's piercing red eyes opened, now fixed upon the hazy peak of the tower. He slowly sat back up on the table, the cool air returning to cocoon his body. Luckily the Brother that had broken the silence earlier swiftly approached carrying a bucket of heated fresh water. Malroth nodded in thanks and began to wash his thoroughly used lower regions, as well as his hands and the rest of his fur while he was at it.
His fur, it was now… soft as a spring grass. Not just that, it was thick as well. He lifted a hand up to his horns, which were equally smooth, with defined layers as they twisted upward to a point. Malroth slowly stepped down onto the floor, his slick hoofs punctuating every step with a clack that echoed up the tower. Another Brother approached him with fresh robes, one that would fit his new stature. He donned the garment and let himself appreciate the embroidery and tassels that glowed in the severely dimming moonlight.
The younger goat bowed one final time to his Brothers, who returned in kind, before walking to the door. He pressed his hand upon the door and paused, stealing one last glance at the table. The body of the old goat still lay open it, never to move on it's own again. Malroth returned his gaze forward and opened the door, exiting the tower, and listened to it close behind him. His red eyes and gleeful grin the only thing visible underneath his crimson hood.