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Temple Howlers
🕑 Added 2020-05-24 03:52:21 +0000 UTC(contains werefoxdragon, weredonkey, and werewolf TF's, domination by a very horny moon god)
Commission for urasmm01, Mephia, Adversarii, Reidon
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Time has a way of consuming more than history can keep up with. That was why when Mephia found a tome detailing a lost temple to Håvard, the moon god, it received moderate skepticism. Kyari, her cheetah friend and fellow intern, combed through every bit of information at a bookworms disposal, only to find no confirming evidence of such a religion. Museum records had never heard of this deity, much less the civilization that had worshipped him.
It was only by sheer luck and circumstances that looking up the coordinates on satellite maps convinced Asher, one of the museum’s senior researchers, to finance a trip into the South American mountains. The supposed location to Håvard’s temple was either blacked out or blurred around some large stone formations. Such inclinations played on a human getting into his forties, filling him with a desperate need to jumpstart his stagnant career. Odds were good that they might find something worth bringing home.
That was assuming they did not get caught. The trio had to utilize the cover of night with only the full moon and standard hiking gear to find their destination. Luckily the temple was not only there, but stunningly, and surprisingly well preserved. Its entrance laid marred by excessive dirt and overgrown moss, but neither had corroded the glyph carvings decorating most of its stone wall.
“So which way?” Asher said, shifting his gaze between the three entrances leading into the temple. They ran pretty deep into darkness, leaving his glow stick useless in figuring out what awaited them.
“I have no idea,” Kyari admitted sheepishly, flipping through Mephia’s old book. The cheetah had been reading it their entire trip here, but it was no Rosetta Stone. Red eyes glanced at the symbols over each exit and back to his current page. “I think that way is the treasure room and this way...huh, that’s interesting.”
“Welp, I’m scouting down that way, then!” Mephia declared, walking at a speed that could almost be a sprint.
“Hey!” Asher tried to grab at the black-haired woman, but she agilely eluded his grasp, vanishing into the dark gaping archway. “Don’t just wander off recklessly...and she’s gone. So what are the odds of traps here...Kyari?”
Asher turned, only half-surprised to be suddenly alone in the entrance chamber. Curiosity must have compelled the cheetah anthro to head down another tunnel with muzzle wedged between pages.
Not wanting to risk both his employees dying, Asher glanced between the two entrances before guessing it had been the middle one. He was wrong. Going at a run to catch up made glyphs pass by in a blur until vanishing as he passed into another chamber.
Everyone had expected something out of this trip. Mephia was out to pay off her student debt. Asher hoped for moderate archaeological fame. And Kyari was in it for the learning experience. So running headlong into a burial worship chamber was a bit perplexing for a temple to the moon.
Not that he was about to complain about the golden, painted sarcophagus on a raised platform. Moonlight shined upon it through an open hole in the ceiling like it was a stage. A fair impression, given the small rows of chairs lined up to face the deceased.
Asher approached this amazing find swiftly, but cautiously. Hollywood may enjoy embellishing such adventures, but a good trap or two still might be likely. Even more glyphs decorated the lid, painted with blue and red paint that had a metallic glint in his artificial light. He could not help tracing over their intricate work with a free hand. This alone would make everyone’s efforts to get out here worthwhile.
Click!
Or he might die horribly after his hand pushed into a plated switch on a hair-trigger. Before Asher could consider running the lid lurched open, blasting his face with a thick cloud of dirt. He backed away in a blind coughing fit, tripping off the platform.
Asher fumbled for his water bottle, only for the container to disintegrate in his grasp. Squinting through tears, he panicked, watching the gear he had brought fall apart into useless atoms. Even his clothes unraveled into the void to expose his naked fur.
“...the fuck!?”
What Asher thought was a salt acid trap proved to have a far different effect on an organic body. As the modesty provided by his garments melted away, a thick pelt of fur grew across his skin to compensate. Soft white cream aproned across his chest down to his crotch, while copper tinted fur washed along his sides down all four limbs. The only exception was the top of his arms gaining a coat of emerald scales that flowed over shoulders down his back.
A heavyweight pulled at Asher’s chest as he sat up, making him horrified to find more changes happening. Both hands slapped onto his chest, squishing around the ample breasts that had swelled from his pecs. He leaned further past them just in time to watch his manhood vanish into the moist folds of a feminine slit.
“Aah!” A sharp pop made Asher’s hips spread, arching her back as a thick fluffy fox tail exploded from atop her plumping buttocks. Its size was still nothing to the pair of draconic wings that unfurl from her shoulders. Before she could even process all the extra limbs, a weird tingle teased at her nose. “ACHOO!”
Asher’s head jerked with a hard sneeze that bolted her face out into the slender, youthful snout of an anthro vixen. Wild mutters poured from her flapping jaw as she felt along the soft fuzzy face with padded paw-hands. Even the voice, unused to such larger tongue muscles, sounded nothing like the aging museum manager she had been minutes ago.
“So, you are the one that awakened me? I’d be delighted were you and your ilk not currently robbing my home.”
The male voice resounded off the chamber walls with a rasp of someone on their dying breath. Even so, it commanded a sense of authority that made Asher forget about her many species and gender problems for a moment.
What had emerged from the now open coffin was something akin to a mummified wolf. His body was so malnourished that Asher saw bones outlined under the taut skin. Moonlight brought only a little gleam to the dull grey that had overtaken his striped blue fur. Despite this, he carried an air of dignity on massive digitigrade feet paws, staring down at Asher with glowing gold eyes.
“It can’t be,” she whispered, still frightened by her own sultry voice. Simply speaking the words did not help deny how familiar the wild-looking wolf felt. Kyari had shown her plenty of matching pictures from that damn book. “Are you really Håvard the moon god?”
“Aaah!” A grin spread across the wolf’s face, showing off his fangs massive overbite. All at once, Håvard’s body shuddered, growing muscle blanketing bones in a trim but healthy build. He stepped off the platform toward Asher with a stronger shine of blue to his fur. “Thank you, thief. Even one so beautiful uttering my name is most rejuvenating. I have been without worshipers for centuries, and it has weakened my powers drastically. In that regard, I might be obliged to give you a reward over punishment.”
“Well, uh, happy to help? Heh. Don’t suppose that would mean changing me back then? Please?”
Asher tried to stand only for the wolf god's paw-like hands to push her back down. They remained grasping each shoulder firmly, but gently regarding the wing joints squashed against the icy stone floor. She gave a sharp bark, glaring up at Håvard straddling her thick curves.
“Changing you back would ruin the point of my moon dust trap.” Håvard gave a long lick across Asher’s cheek. The warm contact of his saliva sent a jolt through the vixen’s brain, relaxing all her muscles with a pleasured churring noise. “Besides, werefoxes are cute, and having a dragon’s purpose means you can bare me many new followers in a single clutch.”
“Oh…” The only thing Asher understood from that was that her handsome god thought having a mixed form was cute. At least until his hips shifting and moonlight glinted off the shiny red skin of Håvard’s erect wolf member. “OH!”
Seeing such a thick tapered head preparing to dive in would probably sober anyone’s mode. Asher’s attempts to thrash the wolf off resulted in failure. Hand claws dug into the fox-dragon's shoulders, bracing her for when Håvard rocked his hips forward. The length of his member speared into her waiting pussy, sending tits rocking as their bodies slapped together.
There was a sharp pain with Asher’s fresh maidenhood breaking under Håvard’s intrusion. But her high yelp quickly lowered into a rolling growl to the unrelenting pleasures radiating from their connection. Somehow she took the entire thing in without dying and relished how stretched it left her.
She only got lifted to further heights when the wolf god began undulating his hips. In and out, the thick member hammered into Asher, sharp yips escaping from her muzzle each time their flesh bounced against each other. He was hitting sweet spots she had not yet realized, making her thighs pull apart wide to allow her new god deeper access.
The monstrous hands released their hold on Asher’s shoulder, Håvard knowing there was no longer a need to keep the vixen pinned. Instead, he focused on Asher’s jostling breasts, kneading them as best he could with their rapid lovemaking.
Their moans sang together in a bestial chorus. Asher’s body bucked off the floor to meet Håvard’s thrusts. Through the rising pleasure, she still felt the sting in the back of her mind that this should not be happening. One sliver of the ex-humans old self stubbornly clung on, trying to fight back against the animal person she had become.
It was far too late for that, and such a wills persistence rather annoyed Håvard. Asher grew tense, feeling her first female climax reach its peak. Her increasing devotion to the godly wolf lover fed him enough power that wiping that last remnant of humanity was a simple effort, like flicking a bug.
Good thing too, because the hard contractions of Asher’s vagina around his member soon had the big wolf howling to the moon baring witness to their mating. Heavy loads of cum gushed into Asher’s womb, filling her with a heavenly warmth that helped ease her into an exhausting afterglow.
Håvard shook himself as he withdrew from the heaving vixen. Her complete devotion had swelled his body larger, showing bulges of muscle when he moved his limbs now. It was still a far cry from his true power, but enough to conjure a pillow for his new follower to relax on. Leaning down, he gave Asher a kiss on the forehead, finding it cute that her leg still kicked in her drunken pleasure.
“Now that my first generation of new followers is on the way, you relax here and wait for them,” he instructed with a voice more fitting of a man in his prime. “I need to go tend to your other outlaws.”
“Mmh! A...as you wish.” Asher gasped the words out watching Håvard’s firm, muscular backside as he exited the chamber.
She had almost drifted off into a restful slumber when a strange twitch in her loins brought things back into focus. Asher rested her hands above her slit, looking at her stomach with a raised eyebrow. It almost felt like the god’s gift of seed was still moving inside her, burrowing deep inside the end of her tunnel.
“Yeep!” A rush of tension surged into Asher’s womb, prompting her slim belly to push against her hands into an inflating bulge.
* * *
Forget student debts, Mephia felt this mini-vacation would set her for life. She dashed into the treasure room ready to be content if it had anything of significant value. No one could have expected after centuries of abandonment for it to still have priceless bling stacked from floor to ceiling. She immediately brushed stray black bangs out of her eyes, realizing she had not brought enough sacks for this.
That did not stop her from partaking in the proper sorting of wealth. Setting her pack by the door, Mephia produced her favorite crowbar to take inventory. They pried crates and barrels open, revealing one bundle of handcrafted trinkets after another. Clay pots smashed against the floor, releasing deposits of silk threads or spilling useless paint powder along the walls. It was amazing how well preserved for their time everything looked. There were even blankets that might fetch a good price once run through a washer.
“Excuse me!”
“GAH!?”
In Mephia’s defense, the booming voice of an otherworldly being would have scared anyone into hurling the ceramic pot held in their greedy paws. It hit the unintended target right in his big wolf nose. Not that such a projectile seemed to hurt the stranger, but its rupture blanketed him in a fine layer of brown paint powder.
“Ack! I’m so sorry, I...uh…” Mephia squeaked out a hurried apology until she realized the silhouette in the doorway was too muscular to be either of her male companions. Cracking a glow stick illuminated a blue wolfman that gave her very nervous vibes. The thick mane and beast-like paws for hands and feet were unlike normal city anthros. “Who? What the fuck are you?”
An irritated snort projected twin streams of dust from Håvard’s nose. With a dismissive wave, the powder lifted off his fur to regather as a ball floating inches above his outstretched palm. “I already take issue with your larceny, child, but this utter lack of respect for my possessions removes any mercy I might have granted you.”
“Heh, your possession?” Mephia scoffed, about to invoke the ancient rights of ‘dibs’ until the striped fur reflected off her glow stick. Her face turned pale, recognizing their haunting glow. “Wait, are you...Håvard Frostmoon?”
“Mmmmhh!” The wolf’s head rocked slightly with a pleasant growl. In the dim light his shadowy form visibly grew to fill the doorway, muscles rose from his luscious fur coat into round bulges. “Thank you. As more become aware of my existence, the stronger I become. There is potential you might make a decent servant yet.”
Mephia opened her mouth to respond only to get the ball of condensed dust sent hurtling at her face. A smokescreen of brown dust engulfed her being, sending the woman flailing about in a mix of coughing and curses. She tried groping for a towel or mask from her tool belt, but it was no longer around her hips. In fact, her pants were feeling disturbingly lose, fluttering with her frantic movements. The weight of her backpack also vanished.
“Well, this is a start,” Håvard said mostly to himself, looking over the maid dress Mephia’s hiking gear had shifted into. The full moon’s influence urged him to alter her body, but into what proved taxing. To blatantly steal was one thing, but also acting like she owned the place was unworthy of a werewolf’s majestic strength, or a werefoxes beauty.
Taking a brief pause to ponder ideas gave Mephia enough time to cry the dust out of her eyes. Her snarl at the wolf god was rather unbecoming of a caretaker as well. “What the fuck did you do that for, jackass?”
Håvard’s ears flicked, golden eyes flashed with an unwitting inspiration Mephia provided. “You are one to fling names, my dear.”
A snap of the wolf’s fingers reverberated off the stone walls, sending a chill across Mephia’s body. It promptly turned into an itching that no amount of scratching could ease. The dust refused to leave her skin. If anything, it became denser as she racked darkening nails through it.
“...oh.” Mephia gasped as she raised an arm for a closer examination. The usually sleek feminine limb had grown several times more toned with muscle mass and grew fine layer of dense brown hairs. A quick check of her face and under the skirt confirmed the fur had grown over every inch of a solid, muscular body. “What the HAAWW have you done to...me?”
Mephia’s hands shot to her mouth, horrified by the strange bray that slipped into her words. Moments later, her nose pushed both palms aside in a rapid growth. Jawbones cracked and stretched as they grew out, widening her nostrils to become flush at the tip of a thick equine snout. Teeth swelled into the flat grinders of a herbivore while ears sprouted nearly a foot long through the black mane atop her head.
Hard cramps seized her hands, compelling fingers to press against each other. Their flesh flowed easily as putty until each extremity only had three meaty digits to them. Fingernails turned a deep black, warping to encompass the wide tips in a hard chitin shell.
“W-what’s HAWppening to me!? Make it stop, please-EEHAW!” Mephia screamed, her voice carrying a harsh nasally tone to it now. A glance down confirmed that not only had her feet become encased in the same cold chitin to become hooves, but her tits had also swelled considerably to stretch out her blouse.
From under the maid's skirt slinked out a thin tail coated in the same grey fur. As it dropped to just around her knees, a tuft of thicker black hairs formed, which gently brushed her muscular things as fresh nerves connected to her brain.
“I would, but seeing as this is my home, it’s only fitting a jackass like you show her true face.” Håvard chuckled at the furious blush spreading over Mephia’s were donkey face. “Now then, kneel.”
“Ah!? Hey!” Mephia said as her body moved against her wishes. Leg’s bent into a gentle rest upon the floor, hoofed hands folding expectedly in her lap. “Don’t just start with this ‘magic puppetry’ bullshit. You can’t strip everything a girl has and expect to...oh...shit.”
The looming red member of Håvard’s penis floated in close until its head pointed inches from the donkey woman’s wide nose. Her tirade drifted off into quiet lip fluttering, a blush burning across her muzzle bridge. Maybe it was her imagination, but at this range, it looked like the wolf was developing a thick set of abdominal muscles, among others. His sac especially seemed to grow into a low hang between his buff thighs.
“I’m sure a weak spell like this could be resisted if you truly wanted it.” A knowing smile behind Håvard’s large fangs beamed upon his perfect weredonkey. “But behind your harsh front, I feel that you are weighing the possible benefits of helping a god regain his former glory. I can guarantee there are some treasures in this world beyond the wealth of gold.”
This was a very rare moment in Mephia’s life where she could not come up with a sarcastic response. She could only bite her lower lip with heavily pronounced front teeth while pretending to take an interest in the floor. The heavy musk of an otherworldly werewolf made for a convincing sale. To her loins, anyway.
“If you wish to accept my blessing, all you have to do is feed.”
“Oh, you son of a...fine! I’ll suck ya dry out of spite!”
Mephia’s head jumped forward, swallowing Håvard’s cock before she could finish. Both were a bit surprised by how well her extended muzzle could take the whole rod. The scent of musk, both Håvard’s and something else’s, burned at her improved nostrils, fogging Mephia’s mind with feelings that made her loins damp.
She could not dwell on them long, for her head began rocking back and forth. Thickened donkey lips polished the sensitive red skin while Mephia became forced to sample the first spurts of Håvard’s pre. A simple gesture, but effective if the wolf god's growls were any sign.
Håvard’s paw-hands latched painfully onto Mephia’s lengthy ears, using them as handles to put more effort into her rocking motions. Whatever protests the pinching brought only came in sputtering snorts around his throbbing meat. That just added to the pleasure she sent across Håvard’s loins, his head rolling back in a small bark at the ceiling.
It did not take long before the forced blowjob bore results. Mephia felt a sizeable lump inflate around the base of Håvard’s cock, recognizing the canine knot only seconds before the member began pulsing against her cheeks. The bitterness of salt overwhelmed her mind since the lack of room forced her to swallow her god's thick cream with tearing eyes.
A jolt ran through Mephia’s body the moment Håvard’s seed landed in her belly, sparking her loins to convulse in an unexpected, yet intense, orgasm of their own. Muffled brays resounded around the wolf’s members, the weredonkey’s body forced to only give the slightest of twitches in its locked state.
All these sensations were Håvard’s perfect distraction for the numbness that settled over Mephia’s mind. The process was so gradually that she never noticed. Her last thoughts lingered on the warmth of afterglow before her body fell limp against her god’s knees.
“Be a shame to completely quell such a passionate fire,” Håvard mused as he withdrew his cock from the limp maid’s snout. “Maybe we should just give it a more obedient fuel to burn off.”
Another snap of his fingers and Mephia jumped to her hooved feet with a resounding clop. Eyes gazed around the room in a panic before recognizing the wolf supporting her, pecs bulged broad and strong for her admiration under that thick mane of his.
“Haaw!? Master, why am I still here?” Mephia grumbled as she bowed in devotion to Håvard’s glory. “I know you’re better than mortal men, but at this rate, I’ll never get the cobwebs off this temple.”
“Very well. Best you start by cleaning this place up.” Håvard gave the donkey maid a pat on the head and left for his last burglar problem.
Mephia watched the god’s broad giant back bend slightly to exit in a dreamy gaze. Seriously, it felt like the god was getting bigger every time he showed up. Whatever joy his hunky presence brought unfortunately left with him too. The weredonkey smoothed out her skirt and then realized just how trashed these storage rooms had become.
“Oh, for Lord Håvard’s sake,” she said aloud, already getting to work with a broom that had spontaneously appeared in her hoofed hands. “What senseless chuckle-fuck just waltzes into a room and smashes everything?”
* * *
Was this temple from a lost society or a cult?
The longer Kyari explored, the more his suspicions drifted towards the later. So far, he had found no evidence to support this place had been part of any thriving community. It had been a bit exciting to find glyphs implying his tunnel lead to some archives, but the cheetah entered a chamber severely disappointed.
Shelves stood lined in several rows, each bare and layered in thick dust. His glowing slit eyes scanned every nook with a flashlight, finding no books, scrolls, or even a carved tablet. Maybe there was some story to be told in the wall carvings, but that could take months of studying to figure out. They probably only had a few more hours if they wanted to use the dark to sneak back to the hotel safely. Kyari just wanted something to help cross-reference this stupid tome's validity.
A strange fluttering broke through the silent room. Kyari’s rounded ears perked before glancing upwards. A long roll of parchment promptly landed upon his face, causing a momentary blackout. Carefully pulling it off, the cheetah’s tail wagged. His torch highlighted about six horizontal lines of glyphs on them.
Kyari propped up onto his toes, trying to view over the top shelves. It was the only place it could have fallen from, though he wondered why it was cleaner than anything else in here. Feline curiosity quickly pushed that mystery aside, encouraging him to flip through Mephia’s book. At least there was an index for pronunciations, with some meanings behind words taking a bit of guesswork.
“Let’s see here…” Kyari juggled the sheet and book between his hands, slowly piecing together the top line of symbols. “Okay, so this sounds like ka’ar bamerra tashra-marby’ok dyr osh. I hope I’m not butchering the tongue rolls. The second line is a-WHOA!”
Fire engulfed the page with no source or reason behind it. Kyari threw it away in a panic, but only a second before it exploded in a blast of powerful wind. Arms instinctively raised as a shield, which did nothing to keep the activated surge of magic from soaking into his body. Dust washed off the shelves to form a blinding smoke cloud, leaving Kyari coughing amidst violent cold shivers running down his spine.
Somehow he found the exit arch through the haze of his light beam. Once tears cleared out his eyes enough, he could see this lead to a bedroom. A hollowed stone box laid out filled with a mess of straw and blankets, with a bedpan and table lamp set by its side.
Shame, there was no water source. Damn dust really itched at Kyari’s exposed fur while he removed his pack. His search through pockets for a cloth left him oblivious to an increasing weight on his tail. The fur along its length grew into a very thick bush, blotting out the yellow and black spots for more solid brown coloring. Ears flicked about as they grew into pointed sharp triangles of the same chocolate color, which drizzled down to paint most of his head.
Kyari only noticed something wrong when he pulled out a towel and saw the hand holding it. Both towel and flashlight slipped from fingers that were popping longer and thick with muscles. He turned them over dumbstruck, watching the claws darken to black coals. Sleek feline weapons lost their edge, becoming blunt sickles better at grabbing. Fingertips burned for a few seconds, which Kyari realized was his covert sheaths sealing themselves.
“Holy hell!” he cried when the spots of his more paw-ish hands faded under plain brown hairs. This continued up his arms, prompting the cheetah strip off his jacket and shirt.
Every hair fiber was becoming consumed by this strange infection. Kyari rubbed at the thick creamy white tuft of his chest as if that could stop its browning, which soon claimed the spots along his back too.
After a moment’s hesitation, he dropped his pants, confirming the feline’s pelt had thickened into a dark-colored mat. More alarming was how the bulge in his briefs inflated like it had an air hose attached. In two blinks, it pushed aside the white elastic band so a glimmering red dick could rise out. The increasing girth in his balls only pushed it down further, exposing a knot four inches wide.
“What is...happening to...to...hnngh!?” In one hard flex, Kyari’s lithe frame swelled with a surge of dense muscles. It was no powerhouse, but his biceps swelled to impressive grapefruit sizes. Not a second later a harsh pressure sent his cheetah muzzle extending outwards. Nostrils grew wider while many more meat tearing fangs grew in the increasing space of canine gums. Unable to handle the throbbing changes to his face, he rocked back to scream at the ceiling. “Ahh...haah...A-awwoooo!!”
“Not a terrible howl for such a scrawny pup.”
A sudden voice, powerful in the room’s acoustics, sent Kyari tripping over alien canine paw feet. Laying across the bed as if he had always been there was a blue-striped wolf covered in a creamy sky blue mane and enough bulk to cover the blanket’s surface. One monstrous paw-hand lazily supported his head as he gazed and the transformed werewolf. Tongue rolled out to lick his lips over enormous front fangs hungrily.
“Who are you!?” Kyari said, scrambling to stand. A hard task with his heels forced to arch him onto tip-toes. “What’s going on?”
“I am Håvard Frostmoon. For having one of my old spell books, you are not that versed in magic.” The big wolf rolled onto his much larger paws, approaching a shaking Kyari with a surprising grace to his hulking physique. One hand raised towards the smaller wolf, causing him to flinch.
Kyari offered no resistance while the bigger werewolf plucked the tome from his grasp. Håvard flipped through a few pages with a bored-looking expression before absently tossing it onto the bedside.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to read a spell out loud, unless you mean to cast it?”
“N-no. I...there’s no such thing as magic.” Kyari felt along his thicker wolf's nose, choking out a forced laugh. “You’re not a god. You’re not even real. I didn’t really turn into a...a werewolf.”
The grin slowly dropped from Håvard’s snout. “Such harsh denial of your own senses. You read the contract I offered you perfectly too.”
“Contract? No! What contract?” Kyari continued smacking himself, but it never changed the fact his body was that of a strong beastly lupine. One with a thick, tender cock. “You’re lying! This is all me hallucinating. Maybe there was asbestos in all that dust. Oh god, this is my brain going into a coma as I slowly die on the floor.”
“...really? You blame my divine appearance on mold?”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense. You’re not real. I’m a cheetah, not a wolf.”
Håvard could only look on with mixed emotions. The state of irritating chanting about reality his would-be robber broke down into was pitiful. On the flip side, this harsh string of blasphemy was not something deserving of mercy.
“Silence!” Håvard barked, causing Kyari’s muzzle to snap shut. The smaller wolf’s blazing red eyes grew wide in the horror that he could no longer speak. That was why Håvard added in a softer tone, “Calm down.”
Just like that, tension evaporated off Kyari’s shaggy body. A powerful cloud settled across his thoughts. It allowed him to contemplate the situation while somehow suppressing the need to panic. It perturbed him how each command word sent a ripple through his pelvis. The tip of his wolf dick pulsed softly, trickling a strand of pre down its sensitive underside.
“Now then,” Håvard continued. “You seemed interested in learning about my ways, so I offered you that indentured servant contract. By speaking its words, you blindly accepted its terms, allowing me to mold you into a better-suited form. However, I’m already finding your wanton heresy to be vexing. Apologize now, and I can make your next two hundred years rather pleasant to work through.”
A tickle in Kyari’s jaw let him know he could speak again. Blackened wolf's lips quivered, mostly from another series of pulses that drew his heavy balls tense between strong thighs. What courage remained billowed forth, opening his muzzle in rapid firing yelps. “You can’t do this! This isn’t happening! You’re not real!”
“Oh…” Two fingers drummed on Håvard’s temple, doing nothing to ease the dull ache this stream of negative influence caused his physical form. “I’m so glad I took the other two first. You might have made my regeneration near impossible to accomplish.”
With a snap of his fingers, Håvard sent the strongest burst of moon magic he could into Kyari’s being. The other wolf’s cries of denial turned to a howl of pain. Paw feet wobbled for a few seconds before the net wrapping around Kyari’s brain brought him to his knees. Hands clasped at his bent wolf's ears trying to block out the influence muddling his thoughts.
Kyari continued the chant over and over in his head. This could not have been real. No way a god could exist, much less influence him. Any second now, Mephia or Asher would come along and treat whatever hallucination he was on.
It did nothing to stop the net tightening around the essence that made Kyari. His shafts pulsing increased until it was thrashing around in rhythm to his heartbeat. That was fine. None of this was really happening. He could fight a mere hallucination. No way was he going to lose.
Until he felt Håvard trace finger pads along the underside of his member. The light contact full of wolven magic was the last push that crushed Kyari’s resolve. A shocked yelp escaped his muzzle, feeling the muscles in his pelvis clench. The poor werewolf only held on a few seconds before his dick's hard contractions sent him in a blissful spiral.
“AAWWOOOO!!!”
Håvard grinned, letting the onslaught of cum drape across his mane. It was only polite to accept the first offerings of his aspiring new thrall. The net encased around Kyari’s mind was giving its squeeze on the smaller wolf. With each stream of milky fluid fired, more of the educated intelligence drained from their mind. Historical facts, scientific logic, even their own history departed through his balls, making space far less offensive thinking.
“Very good,” Håvard said with a pleased growl. “You have some promise yet.”
He released the magic hold on Kyari, allowing the other wolf to fall on hands and knees, gasping for breath. While that might have been mistaken as worship, it was probably more from his orgasm continuing to seep drops of fluid down his shaft. Håvard casually reached out to run claws gently through their head scruff. That quickly got Kyari’s tail wagging.
“Ready for your first night, servant?”
“Oh, yes, master!” Kyari’s head shot up with the excitement of a bouncy puppy. “I live only to breathe in your musk and lick the dirt from your paws. Anything for the blessing of your attention.”
Håvard’s ears dropped slightly, wondering if he overdid the spell. Oh well! Not like he could undo anything now.
“If that is your wish.” The wolf god pointed to his mane, still glistening with warm cum in the light. “Clean up your mess first.”
Kyari gave off a delighted squeal, seeing the degrading command as a treat. Without a second’s hesitation, he was clambering against Håvard’s wall of abs to get at the rich fur across their chest. Tongue eagerly lashed out through the thick hairs, savoring the flavor of his god while sampling their divine animal scent. Hopefully, if he did a suitable job, they would allow him to rest on this mane as a pillow for a while.
As Håvard enjoyed his warm bath, he helped decide on more appropriate attire for Kyari. The white briefs stretched across Kyari’s buff backside shifted to a dark black latex, leaving a hole open in the front for his retracting cock and sheath to hang out. From it emerged several thick tendrils that wound around the wolf’s toned torso and limbs, binding into a harness. A matching leash appeared in one of Håvard‘s hands, leading back to a collar appearing around Kyari’s neck.
“Best hurry now,” Håvard said, though even he could not keep a steady voice under Kyari’s licking assault. “My new brood mother should be done delivering her first clutch soon, and will need help caring for my new following.”
