FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

“I've come to quite like this nonsense world…"

The sky was a steely grey, clouds heavy with snow yet to fall. It was late winter, and in addition to their light barding, the Gryphon's forelimbs were bound up with standing wraps lined with thick fur to further insulate their avian parts. Upon the peytral armour of the chest was inscribed Raphael's Knight Insignia, the diamond of the World God centred with the eye of Divination. A perfect tribute to the voyeur that set him upon this journey. On chocolate brown wings, Talion soared high above the scattered hills and rolling plains North of the Holy City, and upon his back the Beastmaster scanned the environment with his eyeglass.

It had taken quite the amount of practice to get used to riding a Gryphon. The saddle was mounted high up between the shoulders, but the wings were so broad that rather than sitting more upright as one might on a horse, the position was instead a sort of half-prone lying over their back with stirrups towards the haunches and a saddle-horn to grip with your offhand for balance. A safety line linked his belt to the saddle and would leave him dangling if he was unseated – but not tumbling to his demise at least.

The Ring of Warmth stayed the worst of the cold, but there was still some chill. The charge of a magic item was not unlimited, and he'd relied on this one for much of the winter leaving it now with only the last dregs of its imbuement. Thankfully, the Ring of Status Immunity barely seemed to have a dent in its potency. Good news, since its higher power level came with an appropriately high cost to recharge it, and if he wished to continue his relationship with his Wolfman without contracting Lycanthropy, recharge it he must.

He had been patrolling this area for several days already, and cursed his lack of foresight in renewing the imbuement of his protection against the cold. His warm cloak and thick gloves made his body awkward in flight, and he much more enjoyed the lightness of relying on the magic item. With a sigh, he distracted himself, venting his story to the air and to his Mount, “It really did turn out to be quite easy to pass myself off as an Enchantment Mage, I could even frame my collection of Pets as relief for the side effect of Lust. I'd the best part of a month as a Knight before the prophetic words of the World God came to pass, and of course I fully intended to indulge myself in this new life."

“I still wake up most mornings with Alp's muzzle in my crotch. The Wolfman always likes to start his day with a load in his muzzle or under his tail and can be a little moody if he doesn't get it. I check on Kara and our egg, though she sleeps in, and it can be a rather awkward getting around her to take a good look. The Deathclaw gets a little pat, and I take my breakfast in the lounge courtesy of the combined efforts of Khut and Bravura. The Felyne has a bit of a natural talent for cooking, and my rat-wife is no slouch either. She gives me a kiss, making sure that everyone sees – especially Alp – then heads out to the library or market, leaving me to fix up your feathers, put a leash on the Wolfman, and away we go to the North Garrison."

It had been less than a week, and those mornings already felt strangely distant, “Training of new mounts has been temporarily halted for the duration of the emergency. The Black Fiend of the North is coming, and our days are filled with drills revolving around countering their Evocation magic." His expression darkened slightly, “While some Knights may have appropriate Skills or Magic to defend themselves, the truth is that no Gryphon is going to dodge a lightning bolt. It troubles me that the standing order is to use your mount as a shield. More so that the Knights are in agreement with that protocol. And even more so that the Gryphons call it a 'noble death'."

He shook his head slowly and adjusted his spyglass to take a better look at one of the isolated mountains in their path, “The Knights are afraid. It is right that they are. Evocation magic is destructive. Fireballs, lightning bolts, hailstorms, withering acid, and much more. The Sin associated with this is Wrath – and naturally, the sensation of Wrath leads to the unleashing of even more destruction in a perfect cycle that feeds itself. The Black Fiend of the North is a natural disaster. She doesn't eat, she doesn't sleep, she roams, and she destroys, consumed by her Sin. If she reaches the Holy City, it shall fall."

“So, we must strike at her while she is still in the wilds and deter her, distract her, and bait her into changing her trajectory. To direct her back into the mountains beyond the Lowlands where her only prey is the Wolfman, Deathclaw, and Wyvern."

It was in those Northern roaming grounds that she had encountered Alp, some weeks before Raphael had come into contact with him. The Manticore had rained destruction upon his tribe, scattering them far and wide, with him finding an opportunity in the chaos to lampoon some of his peers into a raiding gang. Since then, she had made it beyond the Skaven infested pass, with the ratfolk probably staying out of her way entirely. After entering the plains, with so little traffic in the region to report movements, she had then been lost track of around a fortnight by foot away from the Holy City.

Raphael spent a moment reviewing that tactical knowledge internally before continuing his story with a lighter note, “Training concludes and we head back to our home to be greeted by Bravura in nothing but an apron and that timeless line of 'dinner, bath, or him?'. Of course, it's him. It's always him. And we four males can make quite a mess knowing that we're able to clean up straight after. The three of you may most like when I put you on your backs to take care of you myself, but you've given me some quite remarkable shows as well. When I've my cock in Bravura's throat and the sight of you on Alp's back, I can see where the World God is coming from when he calls this entertainment."

“I don't know for sure if your inability to get off without me being involved somehow is a side effect of [Tame] or simply preference. No matter how hard you fuck Alp, he doesn't give it up over the tiles until he has my cock in his muzzle, and you won't put a load under his tail if I'm not making sport of you myself. It's the same with Khut and Kara. My rat-wife can eat Deathclaw pussy all day, but Kara won't cream herself unless I'm the one forcing the Skaven's face into her." He gave a slight sigh, considering his own experimentations, “That said, it's the same with me. Masturbation does nothing for me anymore. The evolution of [Tame] to be so entwined with sex has become ridiculous."

“Ahem." Gryphons had something of a taboo of discussing such carnal matters in the open, and while the sky was theirs alone, he still did not wish to cause his precious Mount discomfort, so he ended the detail there. “Since I'm so enamoured by the sound of my own voice, and you lot don't seem to mind it – I've taken to reading stories in the evenings. Sometimes books that Khut brings back, though her preference for particularly trashy romance novels that she pretends are there entirely by mistake is not entirely subtle. My own reskinning of Iron Man into Iron Knight seemed to do down rather well, and began a reciting of pop-culture from my old world that I really should write down somewhere."

“Then before bed, Kara has her turn. If I could best describe how her Awakened personality has asserted itself, I suppose it would be 'ara-ara but without the tits', but I don't think anyone in this nonsense world would get that reference. So, I'll simply say that I quite enjoy being coddled a little on occasion. And despite her lethal claws and enormous bulk, she's a very calming presence on us all. Even better at diffusing fights between Alp and Khut than I am."

The Deathclaw was protective not only of him, but of every Pet in their family as well. She had developed quite the method of dealing with the bickering Skaven and Wolfman. Khut would be picked up and carried away – and Alp she would simply sit on. It infuriated them both equally, and had reduced their arguments to seething broadsides in passing and vigour only when out of earshot of Kara. And she had rather sharp hearing indeed.

“Speaking of Khut, she goes last of all. The Skaven likes to fall asleep with me curled up around her – and likes even more what precedes that. For someone so intent on becoming pregnant, she's developed quite the obsession with anal. Not that I'm complaining about that."

This mountain was clear, and the shift of his body to lean towards the right sent his Mount off to their next point of inquiry, “As for our free time, well of course it's more than just constant debauchery. District Eight is home to the entertainment sector, a whole region of the Holy City commonly called, 'The Jungle'. Assumedly because it's where all of the fun and games are. I will never forgive the Apex Ability user that founded this settlement for these awful puns and references."

He gave a slow sigh, “The idyllic days could not last forever. Now we're deployed with a section of the mountains to search. And since the Pontiff claimed to have been struck by divine inspiration when he divided up the map, I can almost guarantee that the World God will be pushing us towards our quarry. He's made no secret that this confrontation is in my path, and that is probably for the best. Hitting her with [Tame] is probably the only way to avoid this becoming a bloodbath."

“I don't want to take anything for granted. Danger has often been on the horizon, but horror and death has yet to cross my path. I've been blessed with remarkable luck. Not a single fatality when Alp's Wolfman Pack invaded the Lowlands. Only some damage to the camp when I fled the Rot-Tail Tribe. It would be the peak of complacency to assume that my streak of good luck will continue. If I find a mountainside decorated with the corpses of Knights and Gryphons, what would I be able to do but to take the life of the Manticore by my oath?"

Raphael closed his eyes for a few moments, his protective goggles lightly misted, “I can box, and I can fence for sport. A Soldier I may have been, but I sat in a room with maps and computers – I have never fired my weapon in combat. I don't know if I have it in me to draw my sword and use it to end a life. I hope that I never have to find out." The rapier at his hip was very light indeed when he wore it on the parade grounds, yet felt rather weighty at this moment, “This nonsense world is my world now. The Holy City is my home. My family lives in District Five. That much at least, I must protect."

Midway up a lonely mountain slope, there was a glint of light, the shine of something reflective catching the dusk light. The Knight focused on it with his spyglass, observing the yawning maw of a cavern, and before it sat on a rock waving at him rather jovially, a familiar old man in a grey cloak. Destiny was beckoning him down, and he directed Talion onwards.

They landed a little away, needing to find space and footing suitable for the Gryphon's colossal wingspan and the weight of their armoured body. Raphael too was now similarly equipped, with a silver breastplate marked with his Knight Insignia and an array of fur and leather armour suitable for riding comfortably whilst maintaining some degree of protection. The old man looked rather amused at the sight of his mark, and Raphael was the first to speak to cut off what would have likely been a rather cutting observation, “A little ominous. I normally don't see you until the dust has settled, World God."

He left no footprints in the snow, standing weightless upon a bank of white, “Well, the truth is that I've taken quite a liking to you. For a Mortal, you've put on some rather fantastic entertainment for me. So, while I'm forbidden from interfering directly, I thought that I might show up and just offer a little advice. A few hints."

The Beastmaster raised an eyebrow in slight surprise, “How very gracious of you. Are you perhaps worried about me?"

“It's blasphemy to tease a God, you know?" The cloaked figure wagged a finger at him, but then his voice was unfamiliar in its seriousness, “You will not be able to just wave your hand, use [Tame], and settle this. You have shared the burden of Sin with one of your Pets before during the Awakening Ritual, and this shall be the same. Shouldering a little of her Wrath will be enough to knock her from the Fiend state and reclaim her mind. You will have only one chance to take possession of her before Sin consumes her once again. The Manticore is quite a lustful creature, so the moment that you confront her with a greater power, she will doubtless throw herself at this worthy Prey she has found."

Somewhere inside that hood was a very smug grin, and his voice was singsong again as the exposition concluded, “You will have to quite literally fuck her into submission. You must have her choose you over her Wrath."

His response came with a groan, “You weren't kidding when you said that I was being trained for this…"

“Do not think this endeavour without risk. If she is the one to overcome you, then your [Tame] will be dispelled. She will have her fill of you, and then she will kill you. The power of a Fiend comes from the Moon God, just as yours does from me. [Tame] may knock her from the Fiend state, but returning to that state shall knock her from [Tame]."

It was the first time that he'd ever seen the World God look so serious. Yes, he undercut that solemnity with his teasing, but this was different. Enough for Raphael to pay attention, “You will listen to my prophecy of the future in which you fail. The Deathclaw, Wolfman, and Skaven will not live to see the Holy City fall. They shall be disposed of as dangerous Monsters. The Felyne shall be cast out in the wilds and succumb in less than a day. And the Gryphon would be assigned a new Master, and in his refusal to serve shall join your Pets in death. You risk more than your own life when you walk into this cavern."

That much, Raphael had assumed already. He steeled himself and spoke, “But, I still must."

There was a short period of quiet while the World God seemed to weigh his words, and then, “Yes. You must face her. But you do not need to take the risk of attempting to take possession of this Fiend. [Tame] shall restore her mind, so long as it holds, but her personality is already rather aggressive. Little wonder that she succumbed to her Sin of Wrath." The singsong tone returned, but it sounded forced, “What you can do is to engage her with [Tame], and in that time in which she cannot attack you, use that sword at your hip and strike her down. I have enjoyed your shows, Mortal. I implore you to consider this option."

To that there was only one response.

Raphael drew his rapier, and he thrust it into the snow, abandoning the weapon.

The old man actually looked rather impressed. From the small amount of face that could be discerned beneath the hood, “I am not surprised. As you wish, then. Godspeed. I shall be watching."

His shining staff raised, the diamonds twinkling in the half-light one final time, and as it came down he simply vanished as if he was never there. It was only after the divine presence had faded that Talion approached, standing beside his Master and looking beyond them into the darkness of the cavern. He rested his head upon their shoulder, and Raphael ran his fingers through the downy feathers of his face for a few moments, calming his nerves.

“If it's a choice between killing this Fiend or making her mine, then I choose to take possession of her. I decided that before we were even deployed. There's a person under the Sin. I'm sure of it. How could I condemn her when I would save Khut?" He took a slow breath, “I know that it's a great risk. But I think that if I was the sort to do anything less, then I wouldn't be your Master." His eyes narrowed, and he gathered his determination, “She shall be the Prey, not I. So… wait for me here. I don't imagine that this will be quick."

With body language filling in much of Gryphon dialect, it was possible to only convey the most basic meanings while in flight. But even now on the ground, there was very little that Talion could bring himself to say. He stepped back, surveying his Master proudly, and then he bowed, “Come back safe!"

Raphael gave one last smile, and advanced alone into the darkness.

It was not dark for long.

She stood at the heart of the cavern, an inferno erupting from her body to leave her as nothing but a silhouette in the flame. Humanoid and similarly proportioned to him, her monstrous side was exhibited in a pair of great wings and a long thrashing tail. It was difficult to make out much more than that, and Raphael had no interest in studying her in this moment, immediate on the draw with his Apex Ability, “[Tame]!"

The encroaching firestorm receded, yet still tongues of flame still wrapped themselves around the Manticore. The Beastmaster had been expecting a quadrupedal creature, vicious and chimeric, and was a little taken back by such an unfamiliar outline. To give his name would be to seal his fate if she targeted him with her magic, but should she overcome his [Tame] he was doomed either way, “I am the Beastmaster Raphael! I have come to make you my own!"

Perhaps Talion was rubbing off on him a little, or perhaps it was the shouldering of Wrath, for it felt quite empowering to deliver such a dramatic line. The blasts of heated air had his cloak streaming behind him, his eyes narrowed in a futile attempt to peer through her obscurement, his arms raised defensively. The voice from the inferno was rather brash, “Fuck, I can think again! I haven't thought anything in years! You must be one powerful as fuck Wizard or something, eh!? Prey worth pounding the crap out of!"

The flames expanded again, but ultimately the blazing wave fell short of him, invoking a growl of frustration, “Such power! I can't burn you!" Their tail flicked, and a bone spine around two foot long whistled overhead with the force of a loosed arrow, clattering against the stone wall, “I can't strike you either!"

Raphael cleared his throat. Aggressive. Just like the World God had described her. The magical flames produced no smoke, but the heat remained potent. Though, [Tame] allowed her to cause him no more than the slightest discomfort, and the fires had already started to diminish, “Bow to me and you can keep your sanity." He delivered his ultimatum.

“Sanity is overrated, dweeb!" She cackled, “I'm only interested in power, and I'm the strongest! I am the Predator, and you nothing but Prey!"

It was indeed similar to the time when he had helped Khut with her ritual, the Lust of her Enchantment magic washing over him as well. Now, linked by [Tame] to the Manticore, he felt the undeniable stirring of Wrath within him, and it brought forth an aggression in his Soul, “My power is greater! You cannot burn me! You cannot strike me! You are at my mercy! It is you that is the Prey!"

“Oh, you are strong, aren't you? You're packing some hardcore shit to suppress me like this!" The silhouette leaned back, chest heaving in a deep breath, “Fuck, the memories are all coming back! Before I got addicted to blowing shit up, I used to hunt men like you, you know? Strong, proud types! A shame none of them could make it through a fuck to the end!"

She gave a great guffaw, “Course in those days, I'd just turn those useless bastards loose after I was done! Now I would…" There was a strange hesitation, as if something had just been realised, “Fuck me, how many people have I…" She placed her head into her hands and then cackled again, “Ah, fuck. You should fucking run. Tuck your tail and sprint, you magical little shit, or I'll take you out! You're gonna die here, Prey! I'm gonna turn you into ash!"

“Now I just want you even more."

“Why aren't you running!?" There was a mild panic in the frustration, but then Wrath again washed over it, “I ain't bowing to a weak fuck like you! I don't see no weapon! So what if I can't attack you? It doesn't mean you've beaten me! This is just a shitty stalemate! I'm leaving!"

“Without beating me?" He'd learned a few tricks from Khut about manipulation, “There's a way for you to do it, you know."

The Manticore hesitated, confused, “And you're stupid enough to tell me!?"

Raphael spread his arms wide, proudly making his challenge, “Hunt me like one of the men in your memories! Conquer me, and my power shall be destroyed! But if I bring you low, if you submit to me, if you surrender and become my woman, then you are mine!"

“Pfft!" The figure in the flames was incredulous, “That's exactly how we Manticores claim our Prey! If you could withstand me, then you'd fucking deserve me, you dumb shit!" Her cackle evolved into laughter, “You know what? Fucking fine! I get my mind back for the first time in years, there's a powerful fucking man right in front of me, of course I'm gonna fuck you before I go back to burning this shit fucking world!"

“Then…" The Wrath emanated through the bond of [Tame], “Turn down your fucking fires and let me get a good look at you! We're doing this at my pace!"

“Fuck that!" She defied him, “You're the one that has to withstand me! If we're doing this, then I'm on the offensive!"

Raphael roared in return, imbuing his voice with power, “[Come] at me, then!"

There was a hearty scoff in return, but then the fires diminished entirely, thankfully leaving behind enough molten stone and embers to provide illumination. The compulsion of [Tame] forced her to approach, and she resisted with every step. The Manticore advanced from the magmatic hollow, and it was only then that he recognised the franchise from which the [Creation] user had stripped this particular creature. This was a Monster of the Monster Girl Encyclopaedia, a tome he'd once flipped through for inspiration in his tabletop campaign in his old world.

“Fuck…" His memories of the book were vague, but he could remember at least that every entry involved a creature designed to target males particularly effectively. Whatever her gimmick, it would be one wrought entirely to subdue men. Even with the advanced power of [Tame], this would be a battle hard fought.

“Strip then, dumbass! I'm fucking horny here!"

Raphael mastered himself, and with a flourish he discarded his cloak by the broach of his Knight Insignia. He was unable to prevent himself from reaching out curiously, beginning his own monologue, “The torso is like that of a human woman, with lightly bronzed skin – but all else is chimeric." Fingers pressed against the flesh of her abdomen to find hard muscles beneath the flesh, but a warning look had his retract his hand and unbuckle his own breastplate, “Hair and eyes are a soft pink colour – and that's a strong case of resting bitch face if ever I've seen one."

“Hey, fuck you, Prey!"

This was not going to be an assessment that he could give while running his hands over every inch of his new Pet, but even by sight alone Raphael could be thorough, taking his time undressing as he indulged in his own personal ritual, “There are feline ears at the top of the head, black with little inner tufts of white. Cute, if her expression wasn't so sour." It was enjoyable to have her seethe, though he had to remind himself that her surrender to Wrath was antithetical to his aims, “And she's a white mane, too. A crest around the neck. Maybe when I collar you, it will have to be a pendant or something special like Talion's peytral…"

The Manticore adopted a mocking tone, “A fraction taller than me, with shitty black facial hair and shitty black locks and shitty grey eyes. And this shitty smug expression on his face. That's what I make of my pale skinned Prey!"

Raphael snorted, finding the turning of his assessment onto himself to be rather humorous, “Maybe if you keep going, you'll find something you like?"

“You may be powerful, but I bet your cock is as disappointing as all of the others."

He brushed past her cutting jibe, “Batlike wings from the lower back, each crowned with a small spike. They don't look large enough to fly with, but who can tell in this nonsense world."

“They're for gliding, dumbass! I hunt my Prey from the high ground!"

The Beastmaster placed down his Breastplate atop his cloak and began to work on his fur lined bracers, “The arms are very animalistic. Like gauntlet gloves or opera gloves or whatever they're called. At the top of the bicep there is another great tuft of white fur, and then black all the way down to oversized feline paws. Black pads and spike claws."

The shirt was discarded next, and again the Manticore mockingly countered his assessment, “You need more sun, dweeb. Half-decent muscles on the upper body. Can't say I mind those abs." She huffed, “But still, fuck you. You ain't getting any sun after this. I'm gonna burn that pale skin black as coal!"

A slightly more favourable verdict at least. Raphael now unbuckled his empty sword belt, “The legs are like animalistic stockings as well. Thick white fur at the upper thigh, very lightly digitigrade, and black all the way to another set of enormous paws. The large proportion of those feline arms and legs to the body is somewhat cute. Just a shame she doesn't know how to shut up."

“Like you can talk, Prey." She huffed again, “Show me the goods, jackass!"

First came his own summary, “Breasts are indecently large. Suitable for such a vulgar woman. Peaked with a cute pink, just like the slit she's put her legs close together to hide."

He stepped from his boots, and then his reinforced riding trousers after that, the armour of his lower body coming with them. The Manticore immediately spoke, “Barely a semi after looking at my perfect fucking body? Are you some sort of boy-lover!?" She pointed an enormous paw towards him, one of its three primary digits extending its claw, the thumb behind them tucked into a fist, “We'll see about that!"

It was not her slit that she held her legs together to conceal, but the length of her tail. It trailed behind her for a good six feet, a little longer than her height, ending in a large rugby ball shaped protrusion, though a decent bit larger and covered with spikes each at least six inches in length. It now whipped forth, pressing itself to Raphael's crotch, the top opening to reveal countless dripping folds of pink. She enveloped the entirety of his masculinity immediately, “How do you like that, Prey!?"

It brought Raphael to his knees, his hands instinctively grasping at the black bulb of her spike covered tail, “Fuck!" He grit his teeth, and forced himself to continue his assessment to the end, “Tail is long and black as night. The bulb she shoots her spikes from is like a second cunt. It's spasming constantly, like it's trying to milk me."

To call it a second femininity did not do it justice. The tail of the Manticore was pure bliss, able to bring a man to climax and lock him in a loop of endless orgasms until he was entirely spent. It would pulsate with perfect control, learning the best pressure and pace to extract essence, and through the tail she would draw it into her body. Through the tail, she could invoke every sense, feeling the consistency, tasting, smelling, deciding if she found her Prey palatable. Only a man with seed sufficient in volume and potency to satisfy every sense and have his essence suffuse her body entirely would be a worthy mate.

She sneered down at him, “Oh, that's a decent sized cock. Fucking big for a human, ain't you? Take some sort of growth potion or something, you freak!?" The Manticore crossed her arms, looking smug and superior, “I've had plenty of males before the Wrath took me! I got so pissed off I couldn't find a worthy mate that it made me fucking mad! I'm gonna wipe out all of the shitty men in the world, for the crime of not being able to satisfy me!"

One of the spikes of her tail pricked his hand. She had not overcome [Tame]'s power to make her unable to harm him – he had drawn his own blood to bring himself back to lucidity. This pleasure was dangerous. Already his cock was hard as iron, both it and his orbs fully drawn into the bulb of the pulsating tail, massaged relentlessly by a silken, dripping, vice. An orgasm washed over him, but it did nothing to diminish the feelings of ecstasy. With great effort, he growled out a command, “[Down]." And as she fell to her knees, he gathered his strength, and threw himself at her.

“What's the big idea, asshole!?" Now the Beastmaster looked down at her from above, though there was no loosening of the grasp of her tail. That would not release him until she was entirely satisfied. Her cruel expression was distorted by the gasp of surprise and pleasure as her Prey grasped a breast in each hand and sunk his fingers into her flesh roughly.

Raphael manhandled her unapologetically. He'd always thought himself to be a rather considerate mate, but the shouldering of her Wrath awakened an animal inside him, an aggressive beast compelled by desire, “You are the Prey." He reaffirmed it, “I'm going to fuck you until your body and mind surrender and you become my obedient Slave. I'll take possession of you down to your fucking Soul. You're going to wear a collar and be my Pet."

She undercut his determination by coaxing a second orgasm from him, barely a minute after the first, but Raphael countered by channelling the pleasure of it into the rough squeezing of her chest. There was mass enough here for his fingertips to vanish into the flesh, an addicting softness that yielded to his touch and wore away at the superior scowl of the Manticore. The entire length of her tail was twitching, a kink flowing upwards like a snake drawing its meal deeper into its stomach, and the suction that it provided was a mind-breaking rapture.

The Beastmaster captured her nipples between his fingers, pulling mercilessly to test the elasticity, and her body reacted to his brutality, breath stuttering for a moment. His body quivered, and he leaned into the Wrath he had borrowed from her to keep his mind, “You like this, don't you?" It was not like Bravura who liked to be fucked hard enough for pleasure and pain to meld, but instead the thrill of battle and contest. As pleasure was an outlet for Khut's Lust – it was this aggression which wore away the defences of the Manticore, depleting her Sin.

But she was far from defeated, “Fuck – maybe I'll keep you after all. Give you a collar of your own and make you into the Pet instead!" The bite of her taunt was ruined by her first true moan, as he caught a nipple between his fingers and squeezed hard, digging in his nails, “That's not fair! You're a fucking animal! Are you sure you're Human!?"

Since the advancement of [Tame] had granted him such virility, overflowing sexual stamina, and a boundless capacity to copulate with his Pets, the answer to that question could be quite complicated. But Raphael would not deny his humanity, “Of course I'm Human, you fucking idiot!" The shouldered Wrath had him seethe, “I am the Beastmaster!" One that was a Master of Beasts could hardly be one himself. Probably.

A third orgasm took him, but this one had been longer in the making as he began to get used to the rippling pleasure of the tail. He had forced the Manticore onto her back, but the dexterous limb was still milking him steadily. Her expression had changed, becoming a little sweeter as each breath became fractionally shorter, and Raphael was gifted a rather unique sight. Her mouth hung open to reveal his essence upon her tongue, and she licked her lips in the most lascivious way.

He closed his eyes. If he looked at that he'd lose his mind.

“You like that, you shitty Beastmaster?" Her chest heaved beneath his hands, “My tail gets your cum everywhere. I can taste it in my mouth, I can fucking smell you. I can feel how thick your fucked up jizz is." His essence was slowly suffusing her body, down to the tip of every claw, “Only a man that can dye me in his colours earns my cunt! Ain't none of you scrubs worthy of that!?"

She swept his legs from under him, having Raphael lose his grip of her chest and collapse between those bountiful breasts. Raphael was unable to restrain his own moans, each exhalation a low grunt of pleasure as her tail worked on him. The Manticore cackled, “I can't hurt you, but you can hurt yourself, can't you, jackass?" She seized his bloodied hand and dragged the palm to her mouth, licking his crimson, “I can make all sorts of venom. How's this aphrodisiac feel- ah!?"

The Ring of Status Immunity neutralised her toxin, but it made little difference. He was bound to this rut with his full effort be he afflicted or not. With a titanic heave, he'd shuffled himself far enough to set his mouth to the peak of her right breast, and held nothing back as he bit her. It would have been enough to wound the body of a human, a great and unpleasant bruising crush. But against the resistant flesh of a Monster, his mouth was nothing but a pleasurable vice. The tail milked a fourth orgasm from him, and their battle continued.

The World God spoke truth when he said that he was training for this. The sloppy reptilian slit of his Deathclaw granted him fortitude against the wetness of her tail bulb. The Wolfman had taught him dominance, and how to bring his might to bear. He had worn down the defences of his Skaven over many months, and now had to do the same in one rut. The Felyne showed him how pain could meld with pleasure, and the thrill of control. And his Gryphon showed him what it felt to be acknowledged by your Pet.

The Manticore derived only a limited pleasure from her tail, the cause of the heat in her body being the suffusing of her soma with his essence, and the roughness of his resistance to her control as he manhandled her chest. Her race was a lascivious one, and while she buried that desire inside of the aggression of her Wrath it was no less present. She would test Raphael to see if he was worthy of taking possession of her, by the strength of his will and the vigour of his manhood. If he was to force her to surrender, claim her as his Prey, then he must earn it!

Her heavy paw landed on the back of his head, crushing his face into her breast yet failing to dislodge his bite, now diminish the flickering of his tongue across her stiffened peak. The Beastmaster had wrapped his left arm about her, the free hand of his right still making sport of her other breast, “You're really playing this game the way of fucking Manticores!? Not gonna touch my cunt until I say you've earned it!?" She combined a deep moan and a throaty roar, “Fuck you! Fuck you, you arrogant prick! Why!? Why does your essence feel so fucking good!?"

The heat of her form pressed against him overtook Raphael and spiked his desire, his own seed took root in the Manticore, suffusing her body, little by little dying her his own colours, appealing to her racial instincts, demanding that she submit. Her eyes were becoming misty, her voice ever sweeter. All that she could taste was him, all that she could smell was him, all that she could feel was him. Raphael had become productive enough to mark the bodies of his whole Monster Harem, with a stamina to match, and while she could bring him to his knees with pleasure and by her tail use the shortness of his refractory period against him, he would not succumb to this Manticore.

The hand at her mouth from which she lapped at his bloodied palm came to be buried now in the crest of her mane, fingers twisting into it as he stained the white in red. It was no severe wound, but to leave his mark on her body felt like a victory. A fifth orgasm cascaded through him, as potent as any other, Raphael locked inside her embrace with a strength that no human could oppose, subjected to mind-bending pleasure as she sapped his stamina along with his essence.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I can feel you everywhere!" Her body quivered in a bone-deep satisfaction, “There's so fucking much!" The Manticore choked, white upon her tongue, and as he posture broke, Raphael was at last able to pull himself up.

He leaned back, free at last, her body heaving before him as if asking to be ravaged. But that was not the way. He grit his teeth and he snarled, “Now to teach you a fucking lesson!"

Both hands he set at the bulb of her tail, his grip providing him a pressure that he could manipulate to his own pleasure. From this posture he could finally get a good look at the opening, the tip spread wide to reveal rows of folds akin to vaginal lips, dripping lubrication all over his thighs, but not a drop of his own cum. He pulled it back, fighting her for every inch until it was almost entirely clear of his cock. And then he thrust forth, taking advantage of that shock of surprise that he would abandon any chance of escape. Raphael began to mercilessly fuck her tail, “You want a man that can dye you in his colours!? That's how I earn your submission!? That's the price of your cunt!? I'll make you fucking beg for me to take it!"

Wrath had made him a beast of pleasure, appealing to his own innate maleness, his own potency, his own aggression. The Manticore writhed, unable to defy his will despite her superior strength and the lack of an order from [Tame], “Noooo! Fuck! You fucking bastard! You're making my head go all weeeiiiirrrrd!"

His Apex Ability was a divine power, and that divinity now lent him strength. The muscles of his arms bulged as he hilted himself once again, and unleashed a sixth orgasm no less copious than his first. The Manticore was drooling his cum, choking on her words. A seventh orgasm had her paws spasm, every claw curling inwards, “Fuck! I want to cum! I need to fucking cum! I give up! I give up you sadistic fucking bastard! Just fuck me! Fuck me, please!"

“That's not how Prey begs a Predator." Raphael growled, “That's not how a Pet begs her Master!"

“It's all the fucking same, isn't it!? Please, just fucking fuck me! You win! You beat me, you asshole! Just fucking claim your fucking prize already! Ahhh!" She screamed out as he put an eighth load of cum into her tail and fell completely prone, panting desperately. Raphael unsheathed himself, casting her limp tail aside and surveying his victory.

But then he grinned. The Wrath he had shouldered from her still coursed through him. How dare she? How dare this fucking Slave do anything but grovel at his feet? How dare she remain so defiant when he had played her game and brought her low?

“Get on your hands and knees."

His voice spurred her to action, the Manticore adopting the posture that he had demanded of her, shaking her hips to entice him. Her tail was deadweight, ruined from use, and she needed to hold it over her own shoulder to stop it draping to the ground. Raphael advanced, placing his maleness beneath her, feeling the lips of her leaking cunt press against the top of his shaft. But no penetration came. Not of her femininity. He drew back, and savagely sheathed himself beneath her tail instead, “Time for you to learn your fucking place!"

Those oversized breasts were battered back and forth, her chest falling to the ground as the Beastmaster seized her hips and fucked her with nothing but the lubrication left upon him by her tail, “Fuck! Ah! Fuck! Please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

She begged, but despite this her cunt spasmed over nothing in orgasm, the Manticore screaming our her pleasure as she was used, “Fuck! Please! Please just put it in my cunt! I'm sorry!"

The Beastmaster rolled his hips, now in control, taking his time with the pace his to dictate. Her insides had yielded to him remarkably well, her body already starting to be transformed by his essence to serve only him, the Manticore trait of union with her chosen Mate, her elevated Prey. He needed more, “Sorry for what?"

It was hard to think. Everything swam in white hot pleasure, a submission which she had never been allowed to reach. Every sense was overwhelmed by his presence, the test of her tail which had ruined so many men now turned to her own destruction as she drowned in his seed. She was ready to say anything, “I'm sorry for opposing you! I'm sorry for calling you Prey! I submit! I submit!"

He reached over her body, looping his arm about her neck and bringing the Manticore back into him, half choked while he fucked her ass, “What does it mean to submit?"

Breasts swayed wantonly, her chest heaving, paws grasping at him for support, “I'm your Pet! I'm your Slave! I'll do whatever you say! I'll be your Prey! I'll be your Mate! I belong to you! Fuck!" She came again, her mind melting into submission, “I'll submit like only a Manticore can! When we choose a Mate, we can't live without them! I'll be yours alone! My body! My mind! My Soul! It's all for you!"

His nineth orgasm went under her tail, and when he pulled back, the Manticore collapsed to the ground in a terrific mess. Raphael grabbed her by her mane, bringing her back up and then to his crotch, “Clean your Master's cock before it goes into your cunt, Prey."

There was no hesitation, “Yes! Yes, my Predator! My Master!" Her tongue was set to him, her mouth closing about the head of his maleness and suckling as if his seed was the finest nectar. There was barely even a look of surprise when he dragged down the scruff of her mane and shoved a foot of ruinous cock down her throat. His tenth orgasm was for her belly, and he thanked the World God for this broken Apex Ability and every ridiculous power of its advancement.

The Manticore was barely conscious when he pushed her down again and spread her legs wide, “Cunt is like that of a human. Soft pink against bronze skin." His eyes narrowed, “Spread your folds and tell your Master what you need." Some reason remained to him still, “Tell me your name."

It was a final submission, with his essence leaking down her chin and from beneath her tail, her eyes misted with desire and ruin, her own Wrath subsumed by the aggression of his pursuit. The Manticore couldn't remember what she was so angry about anymore, the vague memories of frustration in finding a man worthy of her now inconceivable with this Beastmaster before her. She chose him. She chose Raphael over Wrath. She set her great paws upon her thighs and pulled at the bronze skin, spreading her femininity, “Please, Master! Please fuck your Prey!" She swallowed, the last vestige of her mind knowing that her name could be used to bend her completely. But then, what would be the point of holding back now? Her name and her virginity were all that she had left to give, and her Master would have them both, “Kali! My name is Kali!"

That was all that he needed to press forward, his cock finding her maidenhead and splitting it into crimson, blood to meld with the femcum of two anal orgasms to ease this rut. He grasped one leg behind the knee, pinning it high into her lewd breast, seizing the other in his hand as the Beastmaster used it as leverage to fuck his newest Pet. Her body was so sturdy, but her mind was lost to pleasure. No. Her ruination could be greater.

Her tail lay at her side, limp and without energy, and he released her breast to grasp it, finding one of her spines and tearing it free. It left behind a small opening which sealed near immediately with the growth of a new spire of white, and Raphael could survey the thing in his hand. While it looked to be a solid point at first glance, in closer inspection it proved more like a needle, with a small opening at the point from which oozed a light pink fluid.

He forced it into her mouth, “[Suck]."

If she was immune to her own venom, then this would still be a perfect shame of submission. But if she was not… well, it seemed that Raphael was in luck. Her skin flushed, and her moans became sweeter. Her virgin cunt spasmed about his cock in an immediate orgasm, and Raphael grinned in victory. He never thought that he'd ever see an ahegao expression that was not done ironically.

The aphrodisiac was potent indeed, heightening pleasure and lust at the cost of stamina, every few strokes of his cock having her soak his balls in femcum as she orgasmed again. He could feel it through his [Tame], the body and mind which he had dyed in his colours through the Manticore ritual of her tail, her everything was on the brink of becoming his, the Black Fiend of the North was to be his owned Pet.

His peak was triumphant, heralded with a great roar of domination, of victory, the expulsion of his borrowed Wrath and a return to his senses. He flooded a womb that was now his possession, a body shaped to serve only him, to be compatible with only him, to be bred by only him. Two jets went into her core, and he pulled out to spray what remained of his vulgar load over her body, the Manticore heaving a few deep breaths and then going still, her eyes rolled back, fainted.

The Beastmaster blinked, and then collapsed backwards, breathing deeply. He'd barely a moment to master himself before a familiar voice came from behind, “Well done, Mortal." The World God tapped his staff against the stone, walking past to stand beside the Manticore and peer down, “Of course, I knew you would succeed. Never had any doubt. None. You really did fuck her into submission!"

“What the hell was that?" His head felt heavy, the memory of all that he had just done weighing upon him. It was a ferocity antithetical to his gentle nature, "What did I just... do?"

“Well, you have felt it before to an extent. I already told you that much. The Lust from your Awakening ritual for the Deathclaw." The World God ran his fingers through his long white beard, “This was just a little stronger. A bit of Wrath that [Tame] made a touch sexually aggressive. Don't feel too bad about it or anything – this is just what being afflicted with a Sin will do to you in this 'nonsense world'."

Raphael closed his eyes, breathing deep, exhausted from this great marathon of sex.

“You know, this is just my humble opinion – though being the opinion of a God, it's worth something. But I think that you should embrace this." His staff tapped at the stone, “Are you the same Master for your Wolfman as you are for your Skaven? If you meant what you said about serving the wants and needs of your Pets, earning their loyalty and affection, then this is what you owe them. The Manticore likes it rough. Give it to her, and don't feel like a villain when you do. Save the virtuous parts of you for the Gryphon."

The words rang true, and after a minute of composing himself, Raphael gave a deep sigh. He could accept this. He could accept this more easily than he would have liked. And with the validation of the World God, he spoke, “You are right. This isn't me. But it is a part of me, I suppose. I can't deny that I liked it."

He pulled himself to his feet to find that the World God was grinning. Or at least he felt like he was – for every time he tried to peer beneath the hood, the line of his gaze would just slide right off to the side. The old man continued, “Well, I think it's about time for you to come out as a Saint! Not much choice, now. It's about the only way you'll be able to explain things when you return to the Holy City with the Black Fiend of the North pinning your arm between those magnificent breasts!"

~ SevenWingedDragon ~

Note: Special thanks to User NightSound, for their support and for the request for more anal - I hope you like this Manticore from your suggestion. To User AaAAaAaAaAAAaaHhHhhHhh for their continued encouragement and the cheering on of Alp. To User Airwall for having me think more on the Manticore's bestial aspects and the nature of arc two. And to User Sewuyy who made me laugh with their pregnancy joke.

I appreciate every vote, fave, watch, and comment. Every view, too. And I'm always looking at the comments for suggestions and requests for future chapters. It's your input that's giving me the rails for this story going forward, and it's because of you all that I'm able to continue with this series. Lemme know what you want to see, and if I can make it fit, I will.

The intent was to round things off in this chapter, but it's ran a bit long - so, I'll be covering the obligitory Harem scene in an epilogue instead, as well as tidying up Raphael's return to the Holy City and how that all works out for him... And pitching the main narrative hook for the second series which will continue his adventures in this nonsense world.

Have a most excellent day.