Professor Krechevskoy; Demon Hunter.
© 2014 Charn
Krechevksoy and Lenex © their respective owners

Professor K, the short, slender white furred tiger with the grey-blue hair, stood tall and straight, smiling to the gathered students. They were excited - he could feel their masculine energy buzzing in the air, radiating from them and bouncing around the room. He had chosen twelve of the freshman class, invited each of them to join him one rainy Tuesday evening. 

	“You’re struggling with your grades in this class,” he had said, resting his paw on theirs shoulders. Warm, friendly, understanding. “I want to help make sure you make the best of your chances here at Pariah’s School of Magicks.” They had stayed behind, so that he could talk to them, of course, because he had put a peculiar little glyph on their homework that they had handed in, a funny little signal that made them want to stay where they are. Each of them had done poorly at their homework, of course, because he had used a particular tone in his voice, when he had called out their name for attendance, a certain tone of voice that, when magically enhanced before class starts, diffuses the mind and makes learning difficult. 

	So yes, it had taken a BIT of work to set this little ‘study group’ up perfectly, but nonetheless, it had worked, and here they all were. A dozen of the good professor’s ‘worst performers’. They were too excited, too chattering to really look at the situation - all of them freshmen, all of them ungulates, all of them rams and goats. If they had been inquisitive,even a little bit, they may have realized that there were other students who were much worse performers than themselves - even worse-behaving ungulates. None of those performers, however, were the peculiar combination of being both male.. and virgin.

	Getting them to drink the Sacrament had been ridiculously easy, the small champagne flutes with the lumpy, red swirled drink being bottomed up in a celebratory style. 

	“No, it’s not wine,” he assured the freshmen. “You’ll have to wait another year or two before your professors can ply you with drink. My job would be on the line!”

	“Well, why do we have to drink it?” Marcus said, eyeing down the length of the champagne fluke, as if to spot some hidden compartment that might have some extra in it.
	
	“To prepare you for the ritual,of course.”

	“Tastes like strawberries,” Luke said, grinning widely as he put his glass down.	

“Strawberries and CUM!” Keven countered, the chubby ram slapping his thighs. “Did you jerk off in these glasses? Aww man, I knew you were a perv!” he laughed.

“I assure you, that all of *MY* semen is still safely stored inside my body. I would not waste such a vital aspect of our anatomy to scandalize some horny teenagers.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely cum,” Jamal snickered. “Not that I care, or anything... I’m not gay.”

Hugh licked at his lips. “Yeah, totally, no homo guys! So what do you mean, you wouldn’t waste such a vital aspect?” the bighorn putting the glass to the side.

“Oh, surely you must have realized by now... a male’s essence, his seed, is his primary source of magickal power. Did you not realize that the rutting moon was starting tonight?”

“Thought my sack felt a little tighter than usual!” Pete said, rubbing a palm over the front of his shorts. “That explains it!”

“That’s right. And for you boys, the rutting moon is the PEAK of your magical capabilities. Which is why I wanted you to come, tonight. We are going to do a fertility ritual, to magnify our magickal capabilities, to refill our sexual capacity!”

“I thought we were going to be working on our grades?” Charlie mumbled, the diminutive goat crossing his arms over his chest. “This is feeling like a bait and switch.”

“Nonsense. Listen,” Professor Krechevskoy said, and changed his tone. It was a slight alteration, with that magnification he had implemented into his student’s heads earlier in the semester. “I need your help.” 

All twelve of the students hushed at that point, staring at him, ears relaxed, eyes slightly unfocused. Krechevskoy leaned to the side, and the eyes followed him, simply, blankly. He stood aright, and they followed him back. “Excellent.”

“Now, you are probably feeling some minor agitation inside - that’s from the drink. You were correct, it does have seed in it. Not mine, though. One of your classmates, Nolan, graciously is allowing us to use him as the center point of the ritual. However, the seed itself is secondary to the Tumen fruit pulp that you taste. That’s the strawberry flavoring. It’s going to prepare your bodies for the ritual ahead.” He adopted the tone again, his voice lowering, seeming to press right into the minds of the increasingly fuzzy-headed students.

“Next, we need to adopt our most natural forms. Remove all of your clothes, and place them in the fire.”

“What... our wulletsh... too?” Hugh asked, blinking blearily at the professor. Marcus and Jamal were already stripping out of their clothing, the synthetic, confining fibers a relief to get off of their bodies. 

“Everything. You must be completely nude, stripped of all of the external world.” Krechevskoy purred, deeply, the sound soothing and relaxing those students who were still capable of anxiety. Clothes were pulled, belts undone, shoes kicked off, and the fireplace in the back of the room choked on the sudden onpouring of designer jeans and plastic shirts. “Good, good. Welcome to your natural forms.” The feline drank in the sea of masculinity, twelve healthy, primed rams and goats standing and stretching, scratching at their fur, fluffing it out after being compressed under the artificial clothing. Balls dangled and swung, plump, heavy, the tiger able to feel, almost hear those massive testicles churning, seed oozing and weeping out of the ripe glands.

“Good. Now, as this is a fertility ritual, you will have to adorn the Sacred cock ring.” He picked up a sheet of leather. It was thin, soft, and had a peculiar shape to it, a peculiar texture. It had been sliced into thirteen separate fringes, each one connected to the far end by only a quarter inch of leather or so. “Please, stand in around the summoning circle.” The boys did, the excited chattering having seeped down into a quiet, dulled curiousness. 

Krechevskoy started with Hugh, the thick shouldered fellow pulling his arms up and allowing the feline to handle him. His equipment was stocky, like the rest of him, with tacky skin on his heavy, sagging balls, and a thick, musky dangling hose. Krechevskoy ripped a strip from the fringe, about seven inches long, and an eighth of an inch wide. He slid it down, along the front of the plumping sausage, and then cradled it up underneath those heavy balls. The strap was soft, pliable, and under that cured leather scent, there was a musk, a familiar sort of musk. He snared it up behind the bulk of Hugh’s testes, and wrapped, twisted it around the narrow neck of those low dangling fruits. Then, wrapping it once around the student’s sheath, he knotted it, a whispered charm sealing the leather to itself, shrinking it slightly, tightening around the ram’s meat. Indelible runes flared, bright shadows on the soft leather, and Hugh let out a grunt of surprise.

“Feels good,” he said, dumbly, watching his thick prick stiffen and fill. Krechevskoy stood, watching for a second, before moving on to Charlie. 

“Yes, well, it’s a very special leather, enchanted and specially made from my former teacher.”

“You mean made By your former teacher,” the smaller goat said. He squinted, his glasses now just two melting disks in the fireplace, frowning as the tiger pulled free one of the shorter frills and bound his equipment as well. 

“Heh. Yes, it was made by my former master,” Krechevskoy purred, tightening the knot a bit. He reached under, giving the goat’s slender sheath a playful stroke. “I received it from him on my graduation, which happened to be the day he retired.”

Charlie frowned, as Krechevskoy moved on to the next student. Each of them were far, far more amiable than they’d normally be, the thick drink and soft purrs helping to disable their natural prey fear response, building trust and openness with their respected teacher. The last of the frills was tucked around Jamal’s fat pouch, the tiger pausing to give them a pleasant, heavy squeeze. 

“Are you sure you’re not part bull, Jamal?” the teacher asked, friendly enough, as he handled the pudgy, spongy testicles of his biggest student.

“Heh heh, they’re bigger than they usually are, teach,” Jamal said, blushing as he watched the tiger truss and bind his equipment as well. His cock had been hard for some time already - when the tiger knotted and sealed the leather strap, a creamy bead of precum drooled from the thick tip of his fat shaft.

“Yes, well, that’s the rutting moon’s effect. Your sexual libido is like the ocean’s tide, rising and falling in a natural cycle, and the moon is what pulls it from stagnation, makes you strong and fierce and ... rampant. To be erect is normal, to feel aroused and pleasured when nothing is touching you, like you are now, that is the effect of the rutting moon. Enjoy it.”

The twelve students grunted, quietly experiencing, each in their own way, the effects of the combined charms and equipment, their cocks soon hard and ready to press into something snug and warm and wet.

“There is one more thing we must do. We will be summoning a fertility spirit, which, for the uninitiated, can be a scary experience. What we will do, is blindfold you.” The tiger said, and stepping behind the first of the students, he wrapped a bandanna around their eyes, knotting it behind their horns. “Now, don’t worry. You’ll get to see them, when you are ready, but it’s appearance, I must say, will have to remain a mystery, until you are further along in your studies. I can not risk any of you panicking and breaking the circle at the experience of watching something come from nowhere. So relax.” He continued, each of the students being blindfolded in turn, ready and dripping with anticipation, twelve hard cocks all pointing towards the center of the circle. The tiger smiled, seeing them waiting, trusting, horny, eager. 

“I’ll begin the ritual, now. You will experience the room getting warmer - and it is entirely possible that you may feel something touching your equipment. If I ask you to step forward, or to step back, you will do so. Whatever you experience, you must remain silent until the ritual is over. Understood?”

The students nodded their head, and Krechevskoy left the room. In the back room, one of the other students, a brawny brahma bull by the name of Nolan, lay spread out, unconscious, spread eagled on a low-slung stone table. 

Krechevskoy checked his pulse - slow and steady - and picked up his ritual knife. The blade was porcelain, smooth and creamy. It was still damp from it’s washing earlier. He examined the bull’s scrotum - the loose, empty pouch was healing up fine, so far, the stitches pliable and soft. 

“Good, good. Thought so. Bulls are just made to be steers.” He turned to the bull’s heavy length of cockhose, dropped and dangling over the crease of one thigh. He murmured, his fingers glowing, and began to touch the thick length. The castrated bull’s shaft began to spark as he touched it, white and black crackles transferring between the bull and the tiger, and the thick meat thickened, stiffening and hardening. It was an immense piece of meat, the biggest in the tiger’s class.

“I would have invited you to the ritual, of course,” Krechevskoy said, as he tugged, caressing, coaxing that shaft to it’s final erection. “But I have a very specific demon in mind that I plan on summoning, and that means only rams and goats. With you there, I’d maybe have summoned a minotaur, and we can’t have that.”

The porcelain blade sank deep into the root of the bull’s shaft, sliding down through the leather sheath and scraping through the connective tissues. It was more of a scooping motion than a proper slice, but the thick cock came free, popping loose, flexing and twitching in the tiger’s paw. “Very good.”

He left the bull, still unconscious, on the table, and returned to the students. The severed shaft continued to flex, pulsing in his fingers, even without a heart to push blood through it. He stepped into the circle, and one at a time, daubed it with the leaking pre-cum from each of the students, the males twitching in surprise at the touch of the warm flesh against their own. He watched Charlie open his mouth, to ask something no doubt, but then close it. Good. They listened.

“I’m starting the ritual now. Relax your minds, and enjoy yourself. This is going to be amazing.”

-	-	-	-	-	-	-	-	-	-	-	-

Balls.

The terrible, terrible creature prowled through the mists of the inbetween. Not part of any particular world, it shifted through various dimensions, seeking out that particular vibration, that hum of male masculinity. So much of the universe had gone either barren, or far too protected for the likes of something like it.

There were other demons, incorporeal as it, each searching for it’s own particular sustenance. The sour tang of pride, the greasy offal of gluttony. Lenex wants but one thing, though.

Balls.

He felt the tingling. He hadn’t felt something like that in long time. There was always a dull, boring throb of boring, normal masculinity, forming a sort of background hum that the turtle-beaked demon couldn’t be bothered to care about.  He sought out spikes,  collections of hyper charged men that would be worth the stress of shifting into their dimension - that outpost of lumberjacks had been tasty. Gyms, barracks. That sort of thing. The demon licked it’s chops.

This felt even bigger than them, though. It sauntered towards the hum, the combined maleness of some sort of.. was this an offering? Thick drool dripped into the ether from it’s muzzle.

Balls. 

Lots of balls. Primed, charged, ready. He moved closer. He would feast.

Lenex grinned malevolently, and stepped through the weakness between the worlds, pressing through it and phasing into existence in the center of the tiger’s summoning circle.

There were balls around him, evenly spaced, big, bloated, virgin balls, untainted with steroids, drugs, fresh and natural and raw and ready. Drool frothed between chomping teeth.

Krechevskoy pressed a paw against Hugh’s shoulder. “Take one step forward.”

The ram did so, a single step all it took to press his testicles past the border of the summoning circle. The room was sweltering hot, suddenly, and the heat of it made his plump testes sag all the more.

Lenex lurched, three fingered paws wrapping around the ram’s dangling jewels. That beak, steaming from the transfer between worlds, wrapped around the ram’s shaft, biting into it firmly.

They always tried to run. This one didn’t, though. It stood, waiting? Lenex did not wait.

Hugh grunted in surprise, as those thick, slimy fingers pulled and twisted at his balls. He could feel something slurping on his prick, biting and pinching and pulling at.. at something inside him, not just sucking on his prick but on all of him in total. His orgasm flared up within him, the ram going up on his hoof tips, blindfolded eyes moving up to the ceiling as he felt himself tense in the rictus of org-

RIIIIIP.

Hugh fell back, grunting in confusion, as the stretching, twisting on his balls tore at them, ripping the fat nuggets from his body. He felt the sensation, felt them leaving his body. But, wait, fertility spirit, was this part of the ritual? Why would it - why didn’t it hurt? He fumbled for his blindfold, as a paw pinched at the crux of his neck and shoulders.

“Sleep.” the tiger purred in his ears, and Hugh slumped, crumpling to the floor. 

Lenex took the stolen pouch, sniffing at it, rolling it between his thick, claw-hoofed fingers, before jamming it between his own nude legs. The stolen flesh sealed itself against his body, plump pouch darkening to match the demon’s flesh. Cords connected, and Lenex cackled excitedly as the stolen sack began to immediately flush hot hormones and sexual energy up into his body. He rubbed his paws together, slathering at the prospects of each of the males who were now so easily grasped at.

“You have been summoned, spirit, to give us a boon.” The tiger said, pointing at the demon with the severed bull’s cock - a potent wand. “You will agree to my terms, or-”

“Hnnnnng!” Charlie said to the tiger’s right. 

	“Uh!” Jamal said, to the tiger’s left. All of the males had seized up, tightened, backs arching and cocks flexing. Precum dribbled from their tips, as the demon cackled and stroked his own fresh pouch.

	Krechevskoy watched, as the demon seemed to inhale, taking a big breath of air. A goat crumpled, his testicles imploding, his sack shrinking like a balloon connected to a vacuum cleaner. Another ram’s left testicle withered to the size of a raisin, his right dangling like a fat mango beside it.

	“You must follow the rules of the summoning!” Krechevskoy said, pushing the wand of the bull into the summoning circle, hand wavering.

	The demon paused, and then squealed excitedly, dust lifting from the walls and rafters, as, all at once, all of the remaining students began to climax. They fumbled for their blindfolds, not understanding as their cocks pulsed and their balls shrank, feeling something cold settling inside their testicles, seeming to suck them inside out.

	Krechevskoy turned his head to watch, as Jamal’s proud coconuts were juiced to nothing by his contracting scrotum. The students were  collapsing, thickly rutting ballbags reduced to shrunken little prunes, with withered little beans inside. All of them fell, one after another, in the course of a minute, collapsing and grunting and going still at the shock of their sudden unmasculinizing!

	The tiger was so busy watching, he didn’t notice the demon, now with bloated nuts, hugely swollen testes as big as it’s head, lurched and jerked the bull prong out of his fingers.

	“No!” the tiger said, but the demon laughed, and popped the crusted prong between his jaws, crunching and devouring the rubbery prick with clear relish.

	The tiger smiled.

	The demon frowned.

	“Should watch what you put in your mouth,” the professor purred, and the demon began to shriek, as it felt it’s body smoke, heat pouring, energy crackling over it’s skin.

	“You just consumed a potion of tangibility.” the tiger said, stepping into the summoning circle and wrapping a silver collar around the now all-too-meaty demon’s neck. “You’re stuck here, now. No going back for you. You’re MY demon.” 

	Lenex scrabbled at the collar, hissing at the steam that puffed from his fingers when he pulled at it. It’s neck blistered, but the demon had seen, felt worse. It hissed at the tiger like a cat, gesturing to the feline’s own groin.

	Krechevskoy snickered. “Protective runes on my cod piece. Not magnifying runes like the others. I’m safe from you. You can’t touch me. I own you.” He casually took one of the demon’s arms by the wrist - even as it twisted and pulled away, the tiger pulled the arm down to the ground, latching it onto a manacle imbedded in the floor. “Now, relax, I’m not going to kill you. I respect you. You just have something I need. And look at what I’ve already given you. Cooperate, and I’ll take it easy on you.”

	A sour smelling puff of brimstone flared out around malevolent eyes. Just a puff - no sparks, no fire, no soul-wrenching skin flaying. Krechevskoy’s grin widened all the more.

	“Or, play hard to get. Your choice.” The other arm was pushed down, manacled, and the kicking legs were casually, easily captured and trussed as well. “I’ve got so many protective runes and finger of binding spells on me, you can’t even make me hurt myself.”

	HISS! SCREECH!

	“So noisy. Can’t you talk like a normal demon? Or are you just a big, stupid beast?”

	Glower.

	“Well, that’s better than the hissing. So, as you can probably figure out - I summoned you alllll the way over here, so that I could rejuvenate my own demon blood with your endowments. Silly, I know - all of these ripe students that I could have just harvested myself, right? But no. When the investigation into what happens to the students occurs, I want to make sure that YOUR demonic fingerprints are all over them. Not mine. Now, of course, I doubt they’ll investigate into your own castration too much.”

	Black-eyed glowering.

	“Can you regenerate? Not in physical form, like this, I imagine, huh? Such a shame. That’s okay, though.” The tiger sat between the demon’s thighs, and reached to cup under those truly massive boulders. “You have the magical essence of thirteen of my students bundled in here. That should be enough to last me... a good year or so.” He pressed his claws against the straining, heated scrotum, kneading and stroking up along the oblong testes. “I shouldn’t draw it out too much. Every minute you keep all that masculinity in you gives you more of a chance to incorporate it from these beautiful balls to the rest of you.”

	The tiger’s grin widened. “Oh, what’s that I feel?” He hemmed, and squeezed his palms together, crushing the demon’s massive nuts against each other. His fingers barely reached half way around either of the two nuts, a good four inches separating them from each other. “Why, I feel a tingle in my groin. I think it’s started. Can you feel them getting smaller?”

	Oh, it thrashed, then! Big thick demon legs bucking and kicking, as the tiger’s fingers began to draw the condensed masculinity out of the demon. “I can. Or maybe I’m  just getting bigger. Such a big, hungry beast you are, but not for long. You think I’m going to castrate you? Oh, when I’m done with you, you’ll hardly even notice.”

	“The question is what to do with you *after* I castrate you. I can’t very well keep a broken-willed little eunuch demon bitch around my place, certainly not after you just neutered all of my star pupils.” The tiger’s claws prickled into the demon’s pouch, puncturing into the meat of those heavy testes. Just enough to feel the warm, squishy insides seep out against the quick of his claws.

	“STOP!” Lenex croaked, finally. The words imprinted themselves, hot and smoking, inside the tiger’s own mind. “Stop. Don’t do this. Trade. Trade!”

	Krechevskoy snickered, thumb claw working deep into the demon’s testicle, wiggling and piercing deeper and deeper.

	“You can what? Bring me some other demon, one that is bigger and more endowed than you?” He said, not bothering to pause in the painful skewering.

	Lenex nodded, a mental squeal piercing the tiger’s mind, before being clamed off as tightly as his turtle-beak jaws.

	“But... you’re a demon. Why would I trust you?”

	“Kindred...?”

	Krechevskoy snickered, and twisted his claw as he pulled it out, the goat demon’s head smashing back into the floor with an anguished yelp.

	“I have a better idea.” He brought a peculiar little tablet over. It looked all the world like a booster seat, a rough square with two long, ovoid depressions on it. There was two holes in the middle of those depressions, and at one end, a projecting tray from underneath. 

	Krechevskoy scooped up both of the demon’s massive stones, and slid the seat underneath, with the tray facing outwards.

	THWUMP! The two nuts sagged down, over the edge of the tray, bulging out over it, massively oversized. Krechevskoy cackled with delight. “Oh, this WILL be fun.”

	He stood, stepping over the demon’s thigh, standing on the middle of the bloated scrote. The demon screeched, as a thin line of gunk bubbled and sprayed from the piercing that the tiger had given him. It was nothing; the equivalent of precum, but the tiger relished the screech of indignation from the brutish beast. He stepped to the fireplace, and took from a small box on the mantle, two strange looking cones.

	They had holes in them, like a cheese grater, each about nine inches long. There were thorns, too, sticking out, pointing down to the wider base of each, angled slightly so that the bottom of the thorn was slightly to the left of the top. . The tiger brought them back.

	Only he wasn’t a tiger anymore, was he? The tiger had changed. He was bigger, his ears now larger, angular, keratinized. They were horns. His muscles, harder, more compact, thrumming with menace and violence. His body was still striped, but darkly, even the cool blue a dull, infernal gray. 

	Lenex’s eyes widened with realization.

	“That’s right. I’m not a mortal.” Krechevskoy suggested, pressing the words back, into the demon’s own pain-saturated mind. “I’m much, much MORE than a... DEMON.”

	He chuckled, a deep, low, bone-trembling rumble of a purr, and kneeled down between the prostate demon’s thighs. He the two cones, setting them like little party hats on top of Lenex’s massive boulders.

	“Mmm. I love that smell. Fear. On mortals, it’s sweet, and slightly sour, like rice vinegar. On a demon, though, it’s a heavy, heady, intoxicating smell.” He twisted the cones back and forth, and then took them, twisting his wrist to turn them upside down, and speared the narrow tips down into the flesh of the goat-beast’s muskmelons.

	The metal cone tips were warmed from being above the fire, but that was not really a relief, as they dimpled the flesh downwards, the skin tearing, scrotum split through. The cones continued, stabbing down into the glands, the two organs struggling for some sort of compromise between the cones and the tablet underneath them. 

	Splich. Krechevskoy felt the left one rupture, flesh welling up through the middle of the cone, pooling out of the top in a thick, curdled protein mess. He could still smell the scent of his students in that flesh, their own sexual essence now half fermented into the demon’s own. He twisted the cone, the thorns cutting through the ruptured gland, sinking down into the wounded organ.

	Schlick! His other hand thumped suddenly into the flesh of the testicle, as that cone, too, penetrated down into the meaty nugget, three inches suddenly burrowed into the trembling flesh. The massive demon grinned, teeth still decidedly feline, this scarf raising up above his shoulder, a scarlet cobra slithering against his ear in anticipation. He twisted the cone, watching as the pudgy goat demon scrambled, no words coming through in his incoherent screaming.

	“Now now, we’re only halfway there,” Krechevskoy intoned, his black skinned fingers twisting, screwing those cones deeper and deeper. More of the thick ball-juiced pudding pooled out of the top of the two cones, and the professor leaned forward, dipping one lone, forked tongue into each, absorbing it directly through the tissues of his tongue. 

“Mmmmm. Sweet and delicious,” he said, shifting to lean over Lenex, resting his palms on the wide rimmed bases, and letting his own weight spear them the rest of the way down into those debauched testicles.

He felt the two cones settle against the base of the nut-tablet. He hummed, scrunching up his snout as if in concentration. The cones, all nine inches of them, were buried into the broken flesh. The tiger demon's palms were pressing against the nuts themselves, compressing the flesh down against the thorns that embedded so deeply into the soft, yielding tissues.

Plo-thunk! He felt the left cone sink in, piercing through the bottom of the goat’s nut, puncturing down into the small hole in the middle of the tablet. 

“There we go, that’s better now, isn’t it?” He twisted his palm, and the cone locked itself into place, so that as he pulled his hand back, the compressed testicle was able to bulge up around the wide base of the intruding cone. “I’m impressed. Honestly, I would have expected total testicular failure, with that level of trauma.” 

Plo-chunk! The other cone locked into place, and he grinned. “Oh, excellent. Both testicles are still in one piece.” He leaned down, pressing his forehead against the bulging ballbag, and lapped at the juices that were already drooling out of the collection tray. “Mmm. Perfection.” He winked, and nudged a wide, shallow ceramic bowl under the tray. “That will do just nicely.”

	Lenex stared blankly back at him, mouth gaping, but nothing other than pained breathing came from the open muzzle. 

	“Now for my favorite part. Getting all of this..” he said, slapping the two pinned, tortured nuts, “Into my milk bowl.” His fingers stroked, and then squeezed, crushing the two testicles in a tight grip.

	PFFFLLLLPPPT! He could hear meaty juices chunking through the cheese grater holes, pushed out from the testicle into the collective cones, and a surge of pinkish juices surged down out of the collection tray. 
	
	“There, there. I’ve never speared such massive nuggets before, but don’t worry. We’ll have them juiced down to size in no time,” the demon said. “Why, I think you’ve already lost a pound or two of nut meat already. I know I’m certainly feeling the effects of all this masculinity I’m draining. Does it hurt, knowing that you’re going to lose your monstrous balls? These big beauties that I helped you get oh-so big?” He slid his fingers underneath the wailing demon’s nut-sack, lifting up. 

	Lenex hoarsely screamed as the tiger lifted from below, cleaving the metal thorns of the cones deeper through the flesh of his swollen, bloated nutmeat.

	“It’s hard to say, but I’d imagine you’ve still got about ten pounds here. I’ll check again in about half an hour,” Krechevskoy teased. He pushed down on them from above, grinding his palms back into the thick, ripe orbs, crushing them down into the bottom of the tablet.

	Another surge of splattering juices and nougat oozed out of the collection tray, the tiger feeling the glands thrum as they were pulped from the inside out, through the little holes in the cones. He could feel the organs shudder as they were juiced. 

	Down below, the ceramic bowl, probably the width of a standard dinner plate, had a pile of nut gunk gathered under the collection tray, and a thin layer of watery-fluid covered the bottom of the dish. The feline sat on it, purring as his shaft pressed into the goopy collected innards, his nuts soothed by the fluids. He could feel his flesh absorbing the nutrients, the raw masculinity from the goat demon being porously slurped into his own body. Muscles tightened, thickened, eyes darkening with more and more power, his cock thickening and surging against the pile of mush.

	Krechevskoy began to knead the goat’s flattened, oblong orbs. They weren’t quite as monstrous looking as before - still the same size, but now they looked weakened, like old party balloons that couldn’t quite float anymore. One huge feline paw splayed wide, then crushed, curling against the ravished nugget, crushing it’s guts into the cone, and then the other. 

	Krechevskoy purred, and the goat demon hissed, both beyond the need for words. It was a nice moment.

	The right testicle failed first, breaking the cat demon’s revelry. He felt the tender tissues crumple, just collapsing into a splinter-cartilaged pile of mush. He frowned, palpating the broken tissued, grinding and smearing the remnants against the cone. 

	“Hmmm. That’s unfortunate. I guess I lost track of the time.” The demon apologized, stroking the leftover flesh against the barbed cone, shredding any remaining tissue into chunks to be easily pulped away. “I know though. I will weight the ball that’s still left, and we’ll just double the weight.” He winked to the demon, who could only blink, mind fried with the excruciating pain that had used to be his testicles - if only for a couple of minutes.

	He released the crumpled flesh of the ruined right side of the goat demon’s scrotum, and took the left ball between both paws. 

	“Hmm. It’s hard to get an actual weight, with this gone supporting so much of it. I know.” He said, lifting it up. The thorns cleaved deeper, as he lifted the testicle up over the cone. The thickest end of it punctured down, wide rim dragging the bit of scrotum that had been caught between cone and testicle down into the testicle itself.

	Lenex found curses that had been extinct before the universe had been created, as the thorns were dragged, vertically, down through the remnants of his left testicle, his entire body rictussing in pain. When the wide rim of the cone popped out of the bottom of his testicle, he sagged down into his bindings, broken, spent.

	Krechevskoy cupped the sagging, soft tissue of the half-emptied testicle in his paws, and gave it a tentative squeeze.

	Almost immediately, a spaghetti like cluster of goop plopped out of the wide, torn hole under his nut, and splapped wet and greasy down into the cone just below, slowly sinking into the funnel. 

	“Well, I’d have said two pounds left, but not, I mean, feels more like one pound. Then again, you just lost half of your nut guts. Shame, when a prime, masculine demon is sooo out  of control that he can just lose half his ball and not be able to do a thing about it. I wouldn’t worry about that, though, the humiliation of not being able to control your balls is now safely out of your hands.”

	Krechevskoy twisted his paws, wringing the remnants of Lenex’s left testicle like an old wet washrag, and a crackling crumpling explosion of juice and demon-custard was squeezed out, splattering over the cones, the tablet, and as the tiger brought it towards himself, it drooled and rained down over over his belly, groin, and thighs.

	Stretching a demon’s testicle far enough away to do that, even an empty, tortured husk of a testicle, was enough to make even the most traumatized demon attempt to curl around himself, protectively,trying to keep his testicle from being torn off. It was no use, though, the tiger’ grip was too strong, his intentions too plain, and with a wet ripping sound, the demon lost his second testicle.

	Krechevskoy brought it to his lips, sniffing at it, sneering. “This is all used up. There’s nothing of use to me here,” He said, standing up, looming over the defeated demon. He brought it down to his own erection, stuffing his cock into one of the punctured holes, fucking the demon’s empty nut shell. “But maybe you would like it, as a memento.” He pulled it off of his shaft, and brought the crusted shell, now tainted with the demon cat’s own masculine essence, to the demon’s lips. 

	“Open.” He commanded, and the demon twisted his head to the right.

	“Open.” He commanded, his voice darker, sterner, underlined in dark red embers in the goat demon’s mind.

	Lenex, devourer of testicles, opened his claptrap of a snout, and meekly let the demon tiger stuff his own ruined gland between his jaws. 

	“Good boy,” Krechevskoy smirked, stepping back, and taking the ceramic dish from the ground. It wasn’t completely full - and not all of the demon’s gunk had been extracted from the cones and the tablet, but it was More than enough, more than he had expected.

	He poured it over his head, the seed and juices sizzling, frying away, absorbing directly into his body, leaving him smoking with the smell of burnt musk.  The demon lord was lust and menace incarnate, body supple and carnal, demanding to be touched and yielded to.

	Then it was a tiger, again. The mild mannered, friendly professor stood before the debauched goat, brilliant crimson scarf curled jauntily around his neck, all creamy fur and soft blue stripes. He was clearly different, though, his fur thick and glossy, the hues of his fur and scarf radiant and deep, his movements seeming to slide between what you could see and what you knew was there.

	“There, there we go. All finished.” He tossed the plate to the side, smashing on the floor. “Now, I’m going to release you. I would run, if I were you. You’re tangible, now, so there will be no slipping back beyond the veil. If I see you, again, I will of course capture you - and you know I can - and dissect you as an experiment for my supernatural biology class. You’ll survive it, of course, but there won’t be as much of you left, when I’m done.”

	The tiger gestured to the demon’s thick, gnarled goat prick, that had left several thick, sopping doses of demon cream along Lenex’s belly and chest. “That, for example. Mine. Though, maybe that would be better for you, hmm? What does a nutless demon need a cock for, anyways?”

	The manacles disappeared, and the tiger pulled Lenex to his feet. “Run, little gelding. I’d head south. There’s a campground there. Maybe you’ll find someone who will take pity on you, and let you have their balls.” 

	Lenex stared at Krechevskoy, opening his mouth just enough to adjust the bulk of testicle inside it, and then crunching back down, pulping it to paste. Gulp. He stared, unblinking, and then took to the night outside the professor’s cabin.

	Krechevskoy smirked, watching the demon vanish into the night. Then, he turned his attention back to the twelve students passed out on the ground along him. He took his cell phone, and sent a single text, to a single person.  “I’ve got twelve fresh wethers for you. Come and get them.” 

	Then, kneeling down by the first of the unconscious students, he casually took the tiny, cherry sized testicles between his fingers, and with the lightest of pressure, crushed them into paste. There was a soft, crumpling sound, a meaty squick, that made the tiger’s cock throb, painfully.

	He smirked. Well, if he needed to work a couple of loads out... he had plenty of soon-to-be-slaves to work them out on. If they weren’t cherry, they might not sell for much, but money was the least of the tiger’s concerns.

	Another shrunken pair of cherries were ground to pulp between his fingers, and Krechevskoy smiled a cheshire cat smile.

	The rutting moon was only beginning...