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Kerberos

By Yuri Mikoto & Dark Violet

[Contains: M/F, Feral x Human, Dubcon, Size Difference]

Come with us, if you'll allow, as we descend into the realm of Hades.

And yes, we know; it's a terribly dreary place. The murky waters of the river Styx, with its lone boatman endlessly ferrying the new souls above the writhing waters. The echoing winds around the Wuthering Rock, where wild beasts watch from the ice-cracked crags.

And then there's Tartarus. A massive chasm-like chamber, into which night is poured in three rows like a collar round the neck, and the pale green glows congregate in their coming eternity. Even the immense stalactites, hanging like swords, are their own form of architecture, finely sculpted to look as though they hadn't been sculpted at all. An artificial naturalness to it that bordered on eerie.

This is not where our tale takes place.

And nor, for that matter, does it take place in Elysium; where the pale dawn and the violet sunset intertwine like a necklace, and the golden waters seed fertile earth. Where the trees always bear fruit, and the labours are few and sparse as the days continue ever onwards.

Our story doesn't even take place at the Plain of Lethe, or the Acherusian Lake. No; come with us past the tales of Homer and Hesiod, beyond the pen of Aristophanes and beneath the orations of Plato, to watch a single soul, clambering through the dark and winding caves of the underworld, their defiance burning like a flame in a thunderstorm.

If you'll excuse us — we're going to see a woman about a dog.

You know the one. Who doesn't?

***

Athanasia was tempted to think she wasn't having a good day. But she corrected herself. There were no days in Hades. She wasn't having a good afterlife.

She hauled herself up the rock, bleeding fingers grasping the crags. It was hard to make out the ridges and cracks in the flickering fires, the gouts of flame from the dripping streams of glowing molten rock, but she could find them well enough from where they bit into her skin.

She heaved herself up over the last lip, falling atop the cliff on her hands and knees, then slowly and not entirely steadily stood up, breath coming in ragged gasps.

She looked one way. Then another. No immediate threats, she noted; only more cliffs, stretching back and forth like some demonic promenade, obsidian pillars half-fallen across the chasm, criss-crossing beneath that swirling, sickly-green sky.

But there were gates in the distance, an archway that towered above the black cliffs. It had been distant, once, something she'd never really given more than a cursory glance as an acknowledgement of her goal, a way to get her bearings in the depths and correct her course. But now, the great, serpentine pillars, black as night, towered over the soaring cliffs -- towered over her -- their heights lost in thick clouds that she had to crane her neck to see. It was the first time she'd taken a good look at the great stone structures, twisting and winding, far too massive and ornate to have been built by mortal hands. Could it have been the work of Titans? Those gargantuan disgraced beings that dwelled now in the depths of Tartarus?

Not that it mattered. That gate was the first she'd seen of this place, and soon, she swore it would be the last.

Athanasia had a moment to catch her breath. She turned around and peered over the cliff, her feet teasing the rocky edge and sending scree clattering down the sheer slope. She looked down over all she had conquered so far; the mile-high crags, the lakes of grasping hands, the mountains of Tartarus so many leagues below, acting as pillars, holding up the choking heavens of Elysium.

She looked upon those vast reaches that stretched out unto infinity, and she declared, “Fuck all of that."

And she turned around to face the gates again, and she began to stride towards them, clenching her fists in spite of the cuts criss-crossing her palms and fingers.

Elysium! Pah. She had come all this way from there. The soul of a valiant warrior, spearhead of her forces in the raging war that had taken her life. She had been recognized by the gods themselves. Offered a place in paradise for her bravery and valour.

And she'd eagerly spat upon it. The place was a rich allegory for nothing but torture. She'd leapt down from those golden fields, waded through the black waters of Tartarus, cut down souls she'd already sent here once, challenge after challenge wearing down her Elysian toga more than her spirit; the thing was browned rags by now. She herself never slowed in her stride as she marched towards the gates of the underworld. Her way out.

Because Athanasia would not allow death to stop her. There would be more wars, back in the mortal realm. More invasions, more desperate defences. Her people still needed her.

She. Wasn't. Done.

***

Taenarum; the great Gates of Hades. Put out of your mind the Propylaea on the Acropolis - there are no sleek lines here, no elegantly balanced mantles with reverent descriptions of the gods. No; the pillars of Taenarum are like gnarled trees; trees that probably had a sense of grandeur when they grew, and would have managed it if they weren't the kind that wound around themselves, choking themselves with their grotesque branches, growing thorns as long as javelins…

Hm. They would suffice as javelins, certainly. Three paces long, thin, tapering to a vicious point. Athanasia grasped one and heaved, snapping it off the pillar with a crack, then hefted it in one hand. She adjusted her grip, finding where the weight balanced out. There — that felt good.

She stared at her makeshift weapon, balanced atop one palm. For a moment, she could feel the cool breeze of the fields below Athens on her cheeks — smell the spring flowers in the dry midday sun, hear the clatter of the phalanx at her back, the roar of the army on the distant horizon…

She grasped the javelin in both hands. Fires licked the rock. A fiercer one burned inside her.

Athanasia moved to the edge of the obsidian outcrop she had ducked behind, the edge of the broad pillars of Taenarum. The ground here was flat, but rough - chiselled and cut from the rock and nothing more. Except for the middle of the broad path, which was smooth, almost trench-like. Worn down with the passage of millions.

This was not her first time going through the Gates of Hades, of course. She just happened to be going the other direction this time. So she knew to be cautious. She knew what stalked around the feet of these pillars...

But hey. Maybe she'd be lucky? It couldn't always be at the gates, surely. She looked around the outcrop, perhaps-

She yanked herself back, flattening herself against its rough sides. Her heartbeat was traitorously loud; she stilled her breath as best she could. There — underneath the crackling fires, the distant hissing winds, like the beat of a terrible war drum — dull thuds, footsteps slow and rhythmic. And with each one, the scrape of claw on rock.

Yeah. Figured.

Her fingers white with the grip on the javelin, she peered around the edge of her hiding place.

The black shape was silhouetted against a distant waterfall of magma. Braziers hanging off the pillars illuminated the coarse, matted fur that covered its scarred hide, and cast sharp shadows across the rippling muscles beneath. A great, black nose twitched with great inrushes of breath, and light sparkled off eyes below a heavy brow.

It could be called a dog, in the way that the River Styx could be called a stream. Its tail slapped against the ground, long, lizard-like, scaled and winding around itself. Snakes hung from its mane — were its mane — flickers of scales green and grey in the dull light, tongues tasting the sulfurous air. Oh; and it was big, hunched withers even taller than she was.

And had she mentioned the three heads?

One of them turned her way, and she ducked back behind the rock again. She almost closed her eyes, as if to meditate — but she knew that old playwright trope, she'd open then again to find herself staring at flashing teeth. Instead, she stared stoically ahead, focusing on the rough surface of the javelin in her hands, feeling its weight.

Yep. She was going to have to fight him.

She was going to have to fight Kerberos. The guard of the Gates of Hades.

Fortunately, Athanasia had time on her side. She would not grow old here, would not need to scavenge for food. She could take the time to form an intricate plan, wait as long as she needed for just the right moment to execute it…

Fuck it. No point thinking too hard about it. She was fighting Kerberos - how could you make a plan against that?

She'd just have to play this one by ear. Stab what she could, punch the rest, hell, even kick it in the balls if she needed to.

She gripped her makeshift javelin at the balance point, hefted it up by her shoulder, then stepped around the rock she'd hidden behind. She took aim for only a half-second before hurling the javelin straight at one of the beast's necks, and then rushing after it.

It flew true. Kerberos' closest head turned towards her — and her weapon glanced off its angled brow and sailed overhead, tumbling behind the beast's massive frame. She couldn't see where it landed.

Fuck.

Well, she didn't get this far by faltering in the face of adversity. Slowing now, showing her uncertainty to her adversary, was unacceptable.

But she wasn't doing this with her bare hands. She needed that thorn. She had to find where it landed. And this time, screw throwing it — she'd jam the damn thing into each of Kerberos' throats personally!

Stagnant air rushed by her face. At the last moment, she pivoted on one heel. Kerberos brought a massive forepaw down towards her — it crashed into the ground, claws cracking rock on impact and scattering shards of stone and clouds of dust into the air, exactly where she had been but half a second before.

But just as she thought she'd gotten by, just as she dashed past the beast's hinds and started scanning the stone for her thorn-javelin, she heard rushing air. She looked just in time to see the snake-like tail — dragon-like, really, with its size — whipping towards her, but far too late to do anything about it.

Blunt pain blossomed over her side, and the underworld lurched in her vision as it caught her full in her flank - but she grabbed the beast's tail before she could fall. Air rushed by, and she clung to the unyielding, rock-like scales, the thrashing tail so thick she could barely get her arms around it. It cut into her hands, each swing threatening to fling her away -- could she use that? Leap off it at the right moment? Get her bearings so she could maybe aim for the beast's body?

No, this wouldn't do! She couldn't tell where she even was, and even if she could, she wasn't armed. Even if she'd been able to get at a vulnerable point, what could she really do without a weapon?

She decided to cut her losses, back off, regroup. At the next lash of the tail, she kicked off it at the peak of the swing. And good thing she did — as she sailed through the air with what grace she could manage, the beast curled around in her wake to one side to slam a paw down on its own tail, pinning it to the rock.

Half a second later, she hit the ground and rolled until she could get a hand under herself, then her feet. As she did, her lower leg nudged against something.

There was a clatter of wood and metal.

For a moment, as she realized what that meant, she was stunned. Weapons! Scattered around her. Spears, javelins, knives — actual weapons, with heads and blades of iron and bronze! Even a shield, the relief of an owl cut into the front. Most of them were crude, and many of them rusted or damaged, but they were weapons nonetheless, and much more familiar than that awkward old thorn.

By the gods. It was practically divine intervention. A cache of weapons just when she needed them.

But why would Kerberos need weapons…?

A snarl cut through her. She wheeled, shoving herself backwards and away as a paw came down just where she was. The beast advanced, saliva flying from its teeth — she caught the brief sight of stretched jaws, a crimson tongue, a dark waiting throat past fierce teeth-

She grabbed the shield and brought it up — just as the jaws closed around it. Fangs cut down the side, scouring the wood as they did. Her fingers screamed with the grip, and she planted her feet against the rock to hold back the shoving beast. Drool splattered over her arms, warm breath rolling over the cuts in her legs — but the shield held firm, stopping the fatal snap of the jaws.

And then she was in the air, dragged up by the head. She hadn't had time to let go. Rocks whirled in her vision, fires dancing. She was swung around-

Wait. Fuck. Three heads. She caught the glimpse of a second set of jaws, a yawning chasm growing rapidly closer. At the last moment, she let go, leaping away — the snap of splintering wood in her wake. Rock span past her vision, fires streaking- CRACK!

She was on the ground. Her head was spinning, and she was gasping for breath. Blood trickled down her forehead, dark red on the stone beneath her. Ffffuck! What happened?

She stumbled to her feet, a hand on her head to stop it ringing. There was a stalactite on an overhang right next to her, about as long as her arm, and blurry- no, wait, it was coming into focus now as she massaged her scalp. She could even make out a thin crack along its base. Fuck — she must have hit it hard.

Another snarl brought her back to the problem at hand. No time to think — as heavy footsteps approached, she leapt up, grabbed the stalactite in both hands, and heaved.

Muscles bulged and strained. She gritted her teeth. She planted her feet differently, and with one final effort, she wrenched the stalactite from its base with a snap of shattering rock. Almost buckling under its weight, she wheeled on the beast, hoisting the rock to her shoulder as a makeshift club—

Only to find him standing still. He'd reared back, all three heads towering above her, even the snakes on its mane seeming to fix her with a harsh stare. Every single eye on her.

“That's not funny," said the leftmost head in a deep, growling voice.

Athanasia paused, ragged hair half-falling over one eye as she stared at it.

“What, wha-"

And then the world span once more as a paw crashed into her side. The club went spinning away, by the sound of clattering of stone on stone. But this time, there was no recovery — as she landed on her back, another paw slammed down onto her chest, pinning her against the ground. There was a brief, ear-splitting screech — she turned her head to look at a claw that had landed on the ground just inches from her face. It had sunk into the rock itself. Shattered stone was scattered around the gouges.

...Fuck.

“Well I was having fun..." The voice from before rolled over her.

“Oh, don't be so tragic!" Another voice, similar to the first. “I rather like her…"

She closed her eyes. Her head thudded back against the rock. Damn, damn every last God on Olympus...

Kerberos could talk.

That's all she needed.

“Quiet…" A third voice, naturally. Two eyes glared at her from beneath a heavy brow. “I have a job to do."

Another self-indulgent titan to gloat at her. In a moment, it'll tell her that she'll never make it out—

“Hear me, mortal. For these may be the last words you will suffer."

“Oh, give me a break…" she muttered. She had stabbed the last such fool in the mouth. That had felt good. And hey, three times the pleasure for this one, right?

“I am Kerberos, guardian of the-"

“Gates of Hades, defender of Taenarum, bane of souls, and big smelly mutt. You done?"

Kerberos stared at her with all three heads. There was an advantage to that, she realised — conflicting emotions were far easier to convey. She could see annoyance, anger, and amusement clear as day.

“Speak your name," demanded the middle head. Its voice rumbled the very rock itself.

“Athanasia. Some have called me 'that bitch with the spear'. You've probably met some of them."

“You are a soldier?"

“No, I just go around hitting people with a sword as a hobby. Of course I'm a fucking soldier."

“Such a tongue and no sense. You could be a lone hero."

Athanasia spat. “Don't insult me. I've fought in many battles caused by idiots deposing kings and wooing princes."

The right head chuckled to itself.

“Where are you from?" asked the middle, the edges of its lips pulling into a snarl.

“How do you not know this? Haven't you got some list somewhere that you tally everyone with who comes through here, like a good bureaucrat? Or is it hard to be a scribe with claws?"

The paw shoved her against the rock again. The rough pads pressed into her chest, only half-covered now by her ragged toga. They scraped against her skin like warm pumice. Her ribs ached, squeezed against the ground — she gritted her teeth and grunted.

“You will answer my questions."

“Gods, fuck, Athens. Piraeus, in specific. Lovely place, the sea breeze is to die for. The salt does murder on your hair — but I don't think I need to tell you about a bad hair day, right?"

A few of the snakes in its mane turned to her. A couple tasted the air impetuously.

“Oh, Hades, can I throw her back to Tartarus already?" asked the left head, who had been quietly seething all this time. Half the words came from between clenched teeth.

“I was about to ask if I could keep her!" muttered the right head. “I never keep a soul."

“Yeah. You'd want to hold on to the first soul who got this far, right?" Athanasia smirked.

A quick exchange of glances between heads, dark looks and raised eyebrows. The middle head huffed. Hot breath rolled over her face like a sudden wind, making her wince at the sheer force of it.

“What makes you think you're the first?"

The left head leaned in now. “Where do you think those weapons came from?"

Athanasia glanced at the rows of weapons against the wall. The spears split in two. The swords covered in blood, but at the handle rather than the blade.

“A-ah."

“Not all of them made it back to Tartarus," the left head gloated.

Could they feel her heartbeat with how that paw pressed on her chest? She hoped not. She'd just noticed a breastplate with several gaping holes. Tooth-shaped holes.

“In that case," Athanasia forced herself to rally, “you'd want to hold on to the first one that could make it past you, right?"

The middle head reared back. “Her spirit is strong."

“Keep a smile on your face and a dagger in your hand, that's what I say!"

The other two heads drew back as well now, and for a while, stayed silent. The three glanced at each other — large eyes flicking from one to another. Ears twitching. Snakes sliding across hide with hisses as gentle as a sharpening blade. An unspoken conversation was going on above her, and she hated every last minute of it.

A black smirk ran between the first two. A reluctant smile slid across the right one's muzzle. Oh, that can't be good-

“So be it," said the middle head.

They returned their attention to her, and all three leaned in.

“Let's see how far you can run."

Teeth gleamed as the smirks grew.

Athanasia's hands balled into fists. Well, alright. She could work with that.

Kerberos shifted its weight to its other leg. She tensed — slowly, it lifted its paw...

Athanasia leapt up, around the paw and the middle head, and buried the shard of rock she'd been concealing into its neck.

Kerberos roared, rearing back — she grabbed a handful of short neck fur in her other hand to keep her in place. She twisted the makeshift dagger, skewered it deeper — the muscles shifted beneath it.

A snake, coiled along Kerberos' mane, suddenly leapt at her hand. Her wrist exploded in pain, and she wrenched her arm away, letting go of the dagger. She staggered back away from the beast, blood dripping from the twin puncture marks as she grasped at the wound with her other hand.

The ground shook. Teeth flashed. A snarl that could rend the soul from the body sliced through the cave. Kerberos glared at her — eyes fierce, two of them bloodshot — and it reared up to twice her height, only to fall down towards her. Saliva gleamed in the firelight, the sight of an open mouth burned into her vision-

She grabbed two of the fangs — one on each jaw — just before they slammed down around her head. She'd arrested those great jaws just before they had shut — where they now stayed, trembling, inches from her skin. The teeth were wet, rough, serrated at the back; they cut into her fingers, but even that was nothing compared to the scream of her muscles as she attempted to hold off the bite from the middle head.

“Hah!" the left head grunted, “I like her again!"

“She's smarter than most!" said the right gleefully.

The middle head snarled again. Saliva flicked at her face. Athanasia collapsed to her knees, back contorted to try and keep the right balance — was there a muscle in her body that wasn't crying out for her to stop?

“Gi'e in…"

That one was the middle head. The jaws twitched with the words. As if she'd 'give in' when she was this damn close! She lowered her head, grimacing, her heartbeat throbbing in her ears. Sweat dripped across her eyes. Could she do something else? She looked at the fierce claws digging into the rock, the bulging muscles from the wide stance, the flash of deep, gleaming red between its legs-

“What the-" she spat, gritting her teeth, “how are you enjoying this?"

“Are you not…?" teased left.

“You're the best soul we've had in aeons," said right.

The middle head's jaws closed a touch. Athanasia shifted her grip to keep them apart — a fresh rivulet of her blood dripped from her wrist, ran down her hand, and dripped onto its tongue.

The gleam of red between its legs bulged.

Athanasia screwed her eyes shut. “Oh, you have got to be messing with me…"

“Did you really think… you could kill -ee?"

“I'm going to damn well try."

The jaws closed a little more. Incisors hovered on either side of her.

“How long can you stand this?" The tongue flicked just above her head, occasionally teasing her cheek.

For as long as I need to, she thought. But she didn't say it. Kerberos could call her bluff, and in thirty seconds, her strength would fail and those fangs would sink into her chest. Not a gamble she was willing to take.

Urgh. She was going to have to negotiate.

She looked up at the yawning maw of the middle head, and then just past it, into one of the eyes — streaked with red, pupil nothing but a vertical slit. “I'm a warrior," she said. “If you let me go, I'll bring you back a thousand more souls."

A short, barking laugh from the right head. Oh, that can't be good.

“You think I care about more souls?" said the left. “I guard the gate."

“Ten souls or ten million…" said the right.

“...they all come to us in time anyway."

“So what's a thousand more now?"

“Or one less…?"

Athanasia took in a slow, deliberate breath. This was not the time to let her arms start trembling.

“I can show you how I got out-"

“The winding ridge of Orbelos around Tartarus, through the tunnels under Lethe, then up the wailing ravines."

“Fuck."

“What guard doesn't know all the best exits?" This was the left. “Do you think I want to cut them off?"

“Throw boulders into the tunnels, the souls will find somewhere new," said the right. “Make a titan wait at the end of the tunnel…"

“Or a dog at the gates?" Athanasia grimaced.

“It's much more fun, too…"

“Well what do you want then? A fucking handjob?" She gritted her teeth. Her grip was beginning to falter. “If you're going to make me negotiate, you should at least keep up your side of—"

“That's an offer I've never heard..." mused the left.

A cold shiver wormed its way down Athanasia's spine. For a moment, there was just the crackle of braziers and the rushing wind of Kerberos' breath.

“...oh, for fuck's sake."

“Not had the pleasure of a soul like that before, have I…?" said left.

“Really?" The jaws wavered for a moment — she thought she could gain an inch, but the teeth closed in once again before she could make ground. “That's what you're going to go for?"

“Not even from a Titan. Not since…?" said right.

The left groaned. “Urgh, right — what age was that?"

“Age?" muttered Athanasia. “Fuck, no wonder you're getting off on getting stabbed…"

But — if this worked…?

Athanasia screwed her eyes shut. Her arms were beginning to tremble now, no matter how much she tried to stop them. A tooth grazed one of her ears.

“Fuck it. I'll do it!" she spat — and shoved herself backwards, just as the jaws slammed shut where her head had just been. She sprawled on the floor, ripped toga splayed around her — she tensed in readiness to run…

But all three heads were just staring at her. Smiling, in that awful, hound-like way they could smile; black lips pulled back over rough teeth. Tongues lolled from muzzles, rough pink flesh shimmering from the heat of their breath. Eyes narrowed under heavy brows — it watched her with an undisguised eagerness. The beast sized her up, like a wolf eying a lame calf.

Fuuuuck. He'd accepted, hadn't he…?

Well… no point thinking too hard about it. If she was about to do this to Kerberos - how could you make a plan for that?

She'd just have to play this one by ear.

Athanasia went down on all fours, shuffling closer to Kerberos. She kept watch of the beast through hair matted across her face, ready to leap up at any moment…

But the moment didn't come. Kerberos stood there, watching her, smiling with all three heads. It was a different smile on each one: a confident smirk, an excited beam, and a sly, unsettling grin in the middle.

As she shuffled beneath those heads, something deep and crimson dripped on the ground by her — she glanced up at the shard of rock still buried in the beast's neck.

Then she was between the beast's forelegs — just enough room to move if she didn't stand up. A deep, musky smell was already hitting her nostrils, like leather armour after a ten mile run — it made her eyes water, made her wobble as she crawled. She was close enough, now, that she could properly assess the situation. And… well. This was going to be… different.

Now, she'd not been a stranger to men in her previous life. She was familiar with the pale tan skin and the bulbous head of a cock, and how to touch them just right - hell, most of the time it had been them leaving with trembling legs, holding onto the doorway for support afterwards.

But that was humans. And, while she'd seen dogs running around the streets, she'd never had much cause to investigate the fur that hung between their legs. That sort of thing had been largely frowned upon, you see — tales of the gods' exploits notwithstanding.

And yet she was going to have to become familiar with it — and quickly.

Between Kerberos' thick thighs hung that fur and flesh she'd only glanced earlier, swinging with every small movement of the beast. It pointed downwards at an angle, and bulged with the hidden length within it — a bulge that she could see growing, swelling with every pump of the beast's heart. The tip hung out — several inches of it, a gleaming cherry red covered in a shiny film that reflected the firelight.

And it was the width of her fucking forearm.

Behind it hung those balls, dark, barely any fur on them, each one almost as big as her head. Two immense, round silhouettes against the fires of Hades. The one on the right hung lower than the left, and they were half-turned to fit between Kerberos' thick, muscled thighs. The skin they hung from stretched with the heavy weights.

Beyond the balls, that long, scaled tail slapped the ground with impatience.

“Well…?" came the voice from one of the heads.

“What, you think I've done something like this before? Give me a moment…"

Athanasia steadied her breathing and knelt back, staring at the emerging shaft in front of her. She wrapped her fingers around the hanging fur.

The fur was coarse, thinner here too — and it was hot. Even in these fire-parched halls, it was noticeable how hot it was. And when she tried to lift it — gods, it was that heavy…?

A low growl rumbled behind her. The shaft slipped out of the fur another inch — and, she noticed, the fur receded back.

Wait — how much of the shaft was buried in this fur? How long was this thing going to be? She curled her fingers around the fluffy sleeve; just at the end, there was a ring of gleaming wet black hide. She eased it back along the length, exposing more of the cock — noting how the flesh turned from that vibrant red to a more washed-out colour…

That warmth radiated on her face. That musky smell was heavier now, filling her nose, her mind.

She slid her fingers around the exposed length with her other hand, ignoring the sharp sensation of heat, like the lick of flame on a cold night. Her thumb met her middle finger on the other side, but just barely. For a moment, she explored the... head? Not much of one here, not like on a human. It bulged outwards, but only very slightly, before quickly tapering to a protruding point, where clear pre beaded. It dripped onto her wrist and ran down her arm.

“I'm waiting-"

“Gods!" Athanasia grunted as Kerberos shifted above her — she let go, and the length swung from side to side, bobbing in front of her chest. “You're impatient like a dog too…"

“And you're endlessly thinking, like a human. I thought you were different…?"

...why did that sting? She glowered at the shaft, and took it in her hands again, running her fingers along the slick flesh. There we go — another low rumble from Kerberos, but this one with a more satisfied air.

She gripped the fur now, and slid it forwards, then eased it back. Much easier for giving a handjob like this — similar to a foreskin, she noted, though nicer to hang on to, and slid so much easier along the shaft. Hm, if this was all she needed to do, then maybe it wouldn't be-

Kerberos stepped forwards, the shaft shoved against her chest. Athanasia hung onto it to stop from falling backwards — warmth spread across her left breast, and she looked down to see a gleaming splatter of pre, a strand leading back to the bulging tip of the shaft.

“Gods, careful! I'm doing it! I-"

Another thrust — the shaft pressed up against her chest again, this time toppling her onto her back. She shoved herself up with one hand as the length ground over her belly, the toga falling away from it. Another splatter of pre almost hit her eye, the hot, clear liquid splashing down her face, turning the air around her humid and musty.

Gods, was it bigger now? She grabbed the fur again with one hand, tugging at it. Yeah — the shaft had definitely bulged in the middle. When she tried to slide the fur towards the tip, it strained against the bulging, veiny flesh. She slid it further back instead, unveiling more of the shaft...

Hm — something else was under that fur. Some bulge, further back — the base, perhaps?

But if it was the base, then — fuck, it was longer than her forearm, let alone as wide. Right now, it was almost as long as her shin. Well, at least she wouldn't have to put it inside her...

Kerberos drew its hips back. The tip slid down her exposed chest, and along her belly. Warm breath rolled over her back. Something coiled around her ankle — Kerberos' snake-like tail, pulling her leg aside…

“Hey — heyheyhey!" Athanasia clamoured, staring bug-eyed at the size of the shaft against her waist. Why did she always have to jinx it? “Nono, we didn't agree to that!"

A barking laugh from one head. From another, a rumble;

“You can run whenever you like…"

Athanasia bit her lip, still staring. The shaft twitched with each throb of the beast's heart.

“Of course. Of course you'd leave this until you're full size."

Another dark chuckle. The hot tip slid over her belly, leaving a wet trail of pre.

“Come on! It's not going to work!" she grunted, “That's never going to fit in me! Even if you put it in my ass, it'll tear me in half!"

“Oh, you're still thinking like you're alive."

Another head chipped in. “Yes, souls are… more pliable. Less bound by the body's limitations."

And another. “You think that you can rip rock asunder with mortal strength?"

Athanasia's thoughts flashed back to the stalactite. That had crossed her mind. “Then I should have been able to rip your jaws apart too..." she muttered, half to herself.

Another laugh. Gods, she was beginning to hate that sound. “I said less bound. You can carry a little more, run a little faster-"

“And fit a little more inside me?" Her heart hammered in her chest.

A pause. “Probably."

“...What do you mean, probably?"

“I've never had the pleasure. I'm eager to see how you do."

“Hey, what the fu-"

The shaft jumped, slapping against her crotch as it came back down. Pre splattered across her face, the hot, salty liquid making her splutter.

“Gods… you're a bastard!" she spat.

Another laugh. “Again, soldier, you can run whenever you-"

“Shut up." Athanasia kicked at the snake tail, still sliding seductively around one ankle. It retreated. She was going to do this on her own terms.

She gripped the end of the shaft, and angled it down towards her hips. It was odd — the majority of the length was rigid, it seemed, but not like a human shaft — the flesh was more pliable, but hard to bend, as if there was some bone inside it. But if there was, it didn't seem to reach right to the tip — there she could angle it, which meant it squashed against her skin as she manhandled it further down-

Kerberos rumbled. “And I am not going to settle with your ass."

She paused for half a second. Figures…

She tilted her hips back, trying to line him up. The protruding tip jabbed at her lips, almost at the right spot, but never quite getting there. Gods, it was hard to keep that grip with how big that head was now — something this size, how on earth could it even fit…?

She was reminded of a time long ago, before a battle. Some dozen or so Spartans had happened upon her camp, on the night before a battle. Ostensibly, they were there as part of some pseudo-diplomatic mission, but everyone knew the drill. Half of them would be killed by the other half tomorrow, so might as well share a wineskin. The commanders never liked it, but they never had to know, did they? And well, one thing led to another, and Athanasia had a Spartan Lokhagos, their captain, in her tent that night.

He had been big, too. It was even a similar position to this — lying back, grabbing the head of a shaft so big that it made her rethink her decision, rubbing it against her folds and wondering how the hell it would fit inside her. But, though it had made her grit her teeth and writhe on the thin camp bed, she had persevered. She made of the situation what she could…

Hm. She'd stuck him with a spear the next day under a beating sun. Isn't that a nice thought?

She shifted her grip. The larger veins — a deep reddish purple, raised up beneath her fingers — also pulsed with that heartbeat — an eager, impatient sense to them. She rubbed that slick pre over the tip, lined it up, let it press against the right hole. Time to persevere-

Kerberos had given up waiting. There was a scrape of claws gripping rock, and then a thrust.

FUCK!

It wasn't similar. It wasn't similar at all. That Spartan warrior hadn't stretched her wide enough to make her yell and claw at the ground as the head forced its way inside with a strained, wet squelching. It was as wide as a fist — and Kerberos had thrust it into her with all the strength and intensity of a heavy punch.

She dragged herself back. It was instinctive, all she could do to try and cope, hands and feet clambering at the bare rock. But claws flashed in front of her eyes, and a slab of a front paw slammed down on her chest — one huge digit rammed against her face, its claw hanging over her shoulder. Athanasia's yelp was cut short as the beast leaned down, squeezing her chest — and giving another thrust.

Stars span in her vision. The shaft drove in further — oh, she could tell where that head was by which bits hurt. She twitched her legs upwards, angled her hips, trying to find some better position — but there wasn't one. None. Just different ways she could roll that shaft inside her, have it jabbing at her belly.

Thrust! Her fingers stung — had she been clawing at the rough stone so much that they bled? She tried to draw in a breath, having to fight past that paw compressing her ribcage. Kerberos rumbled above her, a tremulous snarl accompanying each buck of the hips.

And Kerberos showed no signs of letting up. Thrust, thrust, again and again. Each time the head barely pulled back, and then was forced deeper, gristly creaking noises arising from each strained push. It seemed like there was never going to be enough space, but that brutish tip had a way of making roomthere be. Her hips — the bones in her hips — ached as the thicker length of the shaft prised them apart.

“FUCK!" Athanasia spat through gritted teeth. “You… said I was… pliable, fuck!"

“Ahaaaaa, yes! Pliable, oh yes, but not… indestructible…"

“Indes- ...gods, seriously, fuck you!"

“Oh, but you're doing well. See…?"

The paw lifted. She took in a deep, grateful breath, even this heavy, musk-filled air feeling good in her lungs. Vision spinning, she looked down-

Fuck. The toned muscles of her stomach, usually so rigid, could barely be seen — her entire belly was bulged out in a gratuitous manner, the head of the shaft pressed up and outwards, stretching the skin to its limits.

And of course the beast was only just over half way inside. That shaft gleamed, the fur shoved further back now, just covering that bulbous base.

At least she was past the thickest part. Small mercies.

Thrust! — her hips lifted with the force, and her back scraped along the stone, ripping her shredded toga. She yelled, kicked out at the beast's underbelly, her foot thudding against its muscled body. “Watch it! This — dammit, this isn't going to work…"

One of the heads swung around in her periphery. “She's going to run?" it said, eagerness dripping like saliva from its lips.

“No, idiot. I'm going to roll over." She pushed herself up, grimacing. “I don't care how much you like bludgeoning my spine with your cock."

Another unsettling chuckle. But let it laugh.

She thumped at the paw on her chest. Slowly it lifted, and she gulped down a grateful breath, even with the air choked with heat and dust.

Alright. No time like the present.

The feeling of the shaft sliding, rotating inside of her, was unpleasant. It wasn't like a twisting blade, as much as that came to mind — there was no sharpness to it. It was like a club, slowly turned inside her, as much as that could be a thing. Veins bulged, rubbing against her lips. That pointed tip dragged along her insides, jabbing into her stomach — Kerberos wasn't letting up the opportunity for a few more short, eager thrusts.

She clambered to her knees, cuts and scraped skin be damned, cheek and chest pressed against the rough floor. Drawing in breath, she forced her torso up. “Alri-iiII!"

Kerberos THRUST with a firm roll of the hips, and a snarl that ripped the air. The beast began bucking with a ferocity that it hadn't before, claws scraping at stone, tail slapping the ground. Her vision blurred as it forced the shaft deeper than before. Gods, she was going to be bruised on the inside, if she was fucking lucky! Her arms trembled, her hands curled into fists.

A great paw flashed past her vision — and then curled around her torso. A claw pressed against her thigh, pads rough on her skin. Her hips were tugged up, higher, and the beast began to thrust faster — no longer the long and slow pistoning humps, but eager ones, impatient, jolting her increasingly frail form back and forth. Grunting breaths from ahead of her sent hot air rolling across her face. A dog-like way to fuck, impatient, uncaring...

It was all she could do to stay on all fours, to keep her arms there. The size of the shaft, bulging her belly out against those pads, made her breath catch in her throat; that pummelling of her insides, so deep now, hammered against her diaphragm, making her cough and retch. Sweat poured down her forehead. Thrust, thrust, thrust — prising apart her hip bones each time, fuck! Was the beast using them to jack himself off? Squeezing that shaft between them, as sparks flew across her vision? More and more, she was finding it difficult to stay up, keep her arms up and body supported. Come on — she... could do it…!

Which was why, when a second paw shoved her head against the ground, she yelled in more frustration than the pain of her cheekbone grinding against sharp rock. “Hey!" — but the pads pressed into her head, filling her mouth with that choking brimstone dust.

The hammering continued, claws scraping against the floor. More grunting, more gasping from above. Between a gap in the paw's digits, she saw tongues lolling, saliva glistening in great, thick drops, flung from black lips and cavernous, snarling maws.

She coughed, and moved one arm to her belly instinctively — only to have it battered by a thrust so forceful, bulging out her stomach so much, that it ground her fingers against the rock floor.

“Rub it!" a head commanded, spat out between pleasured gasps. “Rub it through your belly…"

She pressed her fingers against her lower belly, the bulge of the shaft sliding past her fingers, avoiding getting them slammed into the stone. Fuck - the ridges of those veins, she could feel them through the skin with every slam inside her. She squeezed the bulge, her stomach muscles barely anything between her fingers and that hot shaft repeatedly sinking deep into her, deep, so deep, so fast! Gods, fuck, at least it wasn't growing any bigger, she didn't think she could take any-

Her breath caught in her throat. Her fingers trembled. Oh fuck, fuck fuck... She slid them around the bulge again, testing the size…

...that shaft might have been immense, but from what she could tell, it was as thick as it had been when it had penetrated her. No sudden swell of size. A shaky breath sent up a cloud of rock dust in front of her face, as Kerberos suddenly slowed, sliding that shaft back. Fuuuuuck — she'd jinxed it one too many times to let herself have thoughts like that-

And then the beast thrust, and the bulging base slammed against her hips like a punch. She yelled again, muffled though her shout was now. She wasn't lucky enough that it drowned out Kerberos' barking laugh.

“There!" she yelled past the thick pads. “You're hilted! H-happy now…?"

“Hah! Oh, I am more than happy…"

She gritted her teeth, rolling her eyes. “Yeah yeah. You gonna... fucking... finish up now…?" Her hand pressed against the bulge again, testing how much she could squash the shaft inside her, dancing her fingers along that brutish tip. Veins pulsed beneath her palm.

“Eager…" said one head.

“So eager!" growled another. “As if she's enjoying it…"

Athanasia coughed as the shaft shifted, pressing a little deeper. “Just fucking… finish up and let me go!"

Silence. Silence, apart from the guttural growls, bubbling up from Kerberos' belly. A triad of rumbles, like the herald of an earthquake, vibrating the paw on her head and shaft in her belly, trembling even her bones.

…

Oh fuck no.

“We had a fucking deal!" Athanasia yelled.

“And when did we make that?" said one head.

“I never said I'd let you go." gloated another. “You just offered. I never said I accepted your offer."

“It was fucking implied, you weaselly piece of shit!"

A broad, deep laugh. “I was born of immortal blood! The same blood that runs through the Gods of Olympus. Why in all of Hades would that bother me?"

Athanasia screwed her eyes shut. Fuck. Fuuuuck. That was… that was elementary theology. Gods, that felt like a punch in the gut-

The cock throbbed again as Kerberos ground it against her insides. Urgh… fuck that analogy...

“No, you just offered yourself up." Kerberos continued, as a thick drop of saliva hit the floor with a splat.

“You should have made sure of a deal…"

“...but it seems to me like you just wanted to get between my legs."

And then the thrusting restarted.

But this time, it wasn't the slow pistoning at first. And it wasn't the eager humps after that. Now, it was impatient, raucous, drenched in desire and lust, shuddering thrusts that made its claws scratch against the ground it clung to. And she had thought that had described the previous round of thrusting. This was something else.

The thrusts, it was hard to differentiate between them now — Kerberos hunched over her, pounding, thrusting, slapping that thickened base against her stretch folds. Heavy balls plap-plap-plapped on the bare skin of her rear, jolting her forwards with their weight, bouncing off her with each animal thrust. The pain of each thrust, of each pounding of her insides, was constant in the unabating torrent.

“What... shall I... do with her…?" The beast grunted. She could hear its sick smile.

“I could... still let her go! ...And ch-chase her down!" it cackled. Thrustthrustthrust...

“Oh, why... bother with that again? Let's just... devour her, here n' now!"

“Yes! Like th-the rest!"

Athanasia's blood ran cold. She scrabbled at stone, but the paw on her head kept her trapped. “You fucking son of a bi-!" A firmer thrust cut off her words. Her crotch stung with a sudden stretch. Warmth splattered over her hips.

“Such... a vibrant soul!"

Another splattering, the sound of liquid splashing along the ground, like someone had just upended a bucket.

“Such sweet pleasure!"

Was it cumming? Oh fuck, it was cumming!

“Don't... yell, don't scream… I'll add your javelin to my collection!"

Another splash — the stretching at her lips was growing, stabs of pain growing with each thrust. She coughed, trying to look down between her legs. A rivulet of something thin and wet swung back and forth, dripping from the beast's shaft. She squinted past it-

The base of the shaft. It was thicker, true, but it wasn't the end. It was thinner afterwards, making the intervening length some great, bulbous mass of gleaming, vivid red flesh. It was almost as wide as her hips were.

“Oh no!" she yelled, injecting as much rage past the fear as she could. “Oh no no no, you're done! You are not putting that fucking thing inside me!"

“A-hhaah!"

“She's... finally seen the knot!"

“She thought... I was hilted! Thought I was done! Didn't… she?"

Each slam drove her against the ground, rammed her head into the pumice-like pads of that paw. She could barely catch breaths, barely take them as her lungs were battered from the inside by a shaft that was bulging and distending her entire torso. The base, this 'knot', strained and slammed against her, splattering more of that cum with each thrust. The knot, was it ripping her in two? It felt like it, how it wrenched her hip bones apart, twisted her legs to odd angles as it forced itself half-way inside, only to be yanked out again for another attempt - all in the space of the hurried, needy split-second of a thrust. Her thighs bruised with the repeated slapping of that knot, with each indulgent, feral thrust; those balls swinging and rocking behind it as she was fucked and ground against the floor, and fucked, and stretched, and fucked, and-

The world fractured. Or, her sense of it, at least — that was the only way to describe it.

Slices of time were cut, others sped up around her. Pain exploded and stopped — numbness spreading over her lower half. Stars — no, half the damned Milky Way span in her vision, flickering light and dark.

The beast must have forced that knot inside her. Despite everything, despite the impossibility. She keeled over — feeling kept returning for an instant, only to be snatched away: burning hips — an unsettling weight on the stomach — fuck, her ribs being bent! Pain flickered in and out, her mind fighting simultaneously for awareness and unconsciousness, like she was trying to recall a drunken bar fight she was still in.

The shaft was throbbing, pulsating… bulging. Of course it was. Why wouldn't it get bigger one last time? A final swell, like the thrust of a spear into a dying soldier, only a hell of a lot less dignified. Her body hung from the shaft, limp, and feeling… heavier?

It took her a while, fighting between the glimpses of awareness, to realise that that great beast was still cumming. Glimpses of her bulging belly, swollen now to the point that she could see her veins criss-crossing below the skin, burned in her mind. Thick, warm dog seed was running down her rear, trailing down her back. There was a pool of it, all of a sudden — some clung to the side of her face, matted her hair across her cheeks. It wasn't pale white, like human cum — but thin, transparent like water, but heavy with musk that clouded her senses and made her grunt, breathe in more of its heavy, cloying scent…

She was leaving a trail of it. She was... being dragged. It took her a while to realise it. Had… had she lost consciousness? Or was it just more of that fractious awareness, playing tricks on her?

The monuments of Hades flickered past her. The obsidian gates were nowhere in sight any more. The heat still pulsated inside her, giving no indication of the passage of time. The winding rivers of flame, which she'd passed once before, slid past again; her face burned as the phlegethean monsters born of it jeered in her wake, as if wanting their turn. And it wasn't long before she smelled the acrid air of Tartarus again.

And that was where Kerberos stopped. Gave a moment for her new predicament to sink in.

Awareness was returning. Slowly — the fractured pieces of her consciousness still so much like shattered bones — but she was able to assemble them together enough to see where she was. Limbs burning, arms trembling, she eased herself up by her forearms and looked around.

Finally, back in those dark caverns connecting massive chasm-like chambers where the pale green glows congregated in their coming eternity. The rock formations here were their own form of architecture, finely sculpted to look as though they hadn't been sculpted at all. An artificial naturalness to it that bordered on eerie once you noticed it.

She scanned the horizon nearest to them. Kerberos had dragged her to the edge of a cliff. So close to those wretched stalactites — the cliff must have been the tallest in all of Tartarus, looking out over the whole damned place.

The beast was allowing her to see this predicament. Its tail began to coil around her torso. She gave an unhappy groan and tried to push it away, but it only squeezed tighter, shooting a wave of nausea throughout her body. And apparently a jolt of pleasure throughout Kerberos' own, judging by the heavy growl it gave, as it squeezed the bulge in her abdomen with its own tail.

The tail pulled. A slow and insistent pull, more than a sharp tug, but it felt sharp. She cursed under her breath, and struck the hard scales with a clenched fist. She knew it wouldn't help, but she did it anyway, just because she felt like it.

The beast let out another low, rumbling laugh. “You still have some spirit left in you, do you?" said one of the heads.

Before she could answer, another head spoke up. “Good, good! I knew you would!"

And the third, “You didn't seem the type to be stopped so easily. Such determination… I have to admire it."

“If you're done… having a conversation with yourself…" Athanasia began, through gritted teeth. She'd caught her breath a little by now, but that didn't make this any easier to endure. Her bones creaked beneath the tugging of that obscene knot.

Another wave of nausea washed over her as, finally, that violent knot pulled free of her folds with a humiliatingly loud splash of fluids. She slumped back as that gratefully familiar numbness washed over her — she gritted her teeth to stop herself from groaning — or, worse, whimpering. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction. She just held her breath as the tail pulled her off the rest of his shaft; it slid out without much resistance, the tip of the thick meat slapping against the rock, followed by a splattering of cum.

“Perhaps I should be thanking you," laughed the third head, as her gaze wandered down to the hanging red meat, glistening wet and dripping in great, thick rivers of seed. Almost as much as she was, she realised, thick cum running down her legs, bubbling from her gaping folds.

“Haven't had fun like that in a while, after all," said the first, in a tone of agreement. Something about the way the drops pattered on the rock lent credence to that statement.

She felt a lurch in her stomach as the tail lifted her up, and as the beast sat back, its body and tail curling to let all three heads look at her. One last look at their “new friend", she realized, as all three noses twitched to test the air. Inhaling her scent one last time, likely so he'll remember it.

“Don't get discouraged," the second crooned in a tone of mock-reassurance. “You were onto something, after all. Athanasia, was it?"

“Onto something…?" she panted. She blinked - and again, ridding herself of the exhaustion clouding her vision. She narrowed her eyes.

The beast's heads lowered, great noses twitching, taking its own scent that clung between her legs-

She lunged forwards, grabbing at the dagger-rock still half-buried in Kerberos' neck - and ripped it free.

Kerberos jolted. Blood arced through the air, sickly black in the green light of Tartarus. All three heads rose again to face her, as she gripped the dagger in both hands and threw all the weight she could behind her swing.

The monster's central muzzle wrinkled as the dagger dug into its face. Inches below its left eye. Blood squirted onto her cheek, and she paused a moment to watch the beast.

Yes. She could see it. The reddening veins in its eye as it endured the pain, forced itself not to show it. The slight snarl of indignation, that she'd dare to keep fighting… or was it the beginnings of a grin, a hint that it was impressed that she'd keep fighting?

And it eyed her too. Feeling her out. Analyzing her. She didn't know what it saw in her, but she swore it would soon see a threat rather than a plaything. A soul that represented its death, not the other way around.

All Kerberos did was laugh again. All three heads in unison, this time, a triple-syllable echo. The snarl widened into a victorious grin.

“See you soon," said all three heads at once, with a resounding certainty in their voices.

Because he was right. She knew the layout of the place. Could make her way back much more quickly, much more smoothly. And now she had a better idea of how to fight him…

Next time.

Next time, for sure. She would make him pay.

And with a sudden twist of his body and a whip of the coiled tail, the beast cast her back into the depths from which she'd come.

She flung obscenities - and vengeful promises - at him the entire way down.