The wobbling ring of orange light bathed the grey stone of the rugged tunnel before him. Beyond the dull halo of flame, the darkness dared to encroach as if angered by this mere spark in the endless gloom. His lantern held by his side, Sleet leaned against the rough stone and moaned softly. Pain was his entire world now, a red, hot agony that rippled from his creaking hips up to his shaking shoulders. His fur, grey along his back and limbs, splashed with white on his chest, belly and inner thighs, was dingy with the dust which clung to his damp pelt. A film of sweat had flattened the shock of ebon hair to his narrow face, limp tendrils of black falling over his glittering, blue eyes. The rat’s pink nose twitched, drinking in the fetid aroma of the stale air around him. His whiskers bristled and Sleet swept the hair from his sweaty face. With renewed purpose, he shoved himself from the wall of the tunnel and placed one tentative step before the swaying orb of white fur.

The rat gave a wince, cupping his swollen belly, crowned with six eagerly erect nipples. Like the rubies which studded the crown of the Underking, those fleshy buds emerged from the sea of creamy white, each desiring to be plucked and twisted by the delicate fingers of a curious lover. Each nipple was so sensitive, each tipped with a bead of glistening white which glimmered like a jewel in the light of the lantern. His chest was flabby, swollen with the rich milk that bloated each tender breast on his pregnant belly. Pregnant? Had he really thought that? Within his stomach came the stirrings of the lives within him. Sleet trembled, unable to process the wondrous change which had come over him. Within his gravid belly, his unborn shifted, determined to seek the exit into the world. His ass, dimpled and fat, leaked a steady stream of glistening fluid, seeping down the fur of his inner thighs as the rat began to slowly waddle with cumbersome steps. His slender tail dragged behind him, rasping softly on the bare stone as he held his lantern aloft. 

“Which way?” he whispered to himself. He tucked an arm under his belly, waving the lantern back and forth as he examined two paths in the jagged rock. “I can’t recall which of these tunnels we came through.”

The ill-fated expedition was far behind him now, at least he hoped. The three of them had come deep, seeking the ruins of the ancient underkingdoms, but instead… Sleet closed his eyes, trying to stifle the urge to scream which bubbled up in his throat. No, he did not want to remember those terrible eyes. He could still feel the claws on his flesh, raking his fur, the tongue which slid along his flat belly. The breath, like that of brimstone, suffocating as he felt his cheeks parting. Powerless, he was cast to the floor, that horrible, wonderful member pressing into his quivering ring, filling him with all of the carnal joy that the shrieking rat could handle. The eruption of virile seed into his belly had come as a shock, then the sweet elation as his flesh expanded in pregnancy. But, soon the spell was lifted and the horror had come. He had run, his belly growing by the moment, bloating bigger and bigger as the beast roared in rage. Remembering now Skrik, his fat rat companion, left to the mercies of the beast, Sleet would shake his head. Poor Skrik, thought Sleet, the rat was so big as to be full term with two litters, yet what else could he do?

Determined not to remain at the mercy of the beast which haunted the underground tomb, Sleet pushed on. His gravid weight was carrying him to the floor as he walked, each step growing more and more difficult as his belly stretched before him. Tiny claws raked at his newly formed womb, feet pummeling at his kidneys as he fought back the urge to whimper. It was growing so hard now, he was so heavy. Collapsing to the floor of the tunnel, Sleet reclined against the rock, breathing deeply, his hand on his belly. 

“Just for a little while,” he panted. “Then I’ll start moving.”

He placed the lantern down and ran his fingers through his fur. So strange was the sensation as his claws wandered over the curve of his gravid belly. A sort of excited contentment washed over him. Was this what every breeder female felt, he wondered? He pushed the thought from his head. This was no time for silly fantasies and he was no breeder female. None of this should have been possible. His wide hips creaked in agony as he shifted his weight, his hand reaching for the lantern. Just then, his ears swiveled. From down the tunnel came a muffled snuffling, the snorting of a hunting beast sniffing out its prey. Fear tingled down his spine, a tendril of horror squeezing around his heart. Forgetting his pains, the weight of his gravid frame, Sleet was on his feet in an instant, rushing down the tunnel as fast as his bloated body would allow. In his haste, he had chosen the left tunnel, not knowing if it led to salvation or doom. At that moment, anything was better than what waited behind him. 

Sleet stumbled down the empty tunnel, the light of his lantern bouncing from the walls as he placed a hand against the stone to steady himself. Daring to look back, he heard the clatter of bony claws scraping the rock, the rasping breath of the beast panting in the dark. How had it caught up to him so quickly, he wondered? But, he knew the truth, his pregnant body could not hope to outrun such a monster. His pink foot caught on a protrusion of stone and the rat toppled, Instinctively, he turned, landing on his side so as to protect his gravid belly. The lantern flew from his hand as he tucked both arms around his swollen middle, clattering onto the floor of the tunnel to roll just beyond his reach. Sleet coughed, drawing his knees to his belly. Pain racked his now curvaceous frame. When he and the others had found that wretched mausoleum, he had been thin, scrawny even. Now, he was fatter than the ripest of breeding stock in the undercity brothels. His breasts sagged on the floor, leaving thin puddles of milk to glimmer in the flickering glow of the lantern. His belly churned, the lives within him roiling, pressing out against his flesh to make the rat moan. 

The scents of raw milk and of the musky odor of his quivering blossom filled the tunnel, luring the creature to him. He tried to roll over, but a throbbing ache in his knee told him that he had twisted his leg in the fall. His hip was red hot agony as he shifted his weight. Tears began to stream from his eyes as Sleet knew that he could not escape. Terrible red eyes illuminated the darkness behind him and the rat could only offer a quavering mewl as claws materialized from the gloom. Their flesh was a sallow grey, bereft of fur. The fingers were long and slender, but terrible in their strength as they reached for him. Each tipped with a long, ebon talon, they grasped his ankle, tugging him closer to loop a sinewy arm around his expanding waist. The scent of brimstone blew hot in his face, the muzzle hovering just before his lips. Teeth, jagged and long, like wicked curved daggers, flashed in the flicker of the lantern. Leathery black lips suddenly met his trembling mouth in a kiss that stole what breath remained in his puffing lungs. 

The beast sighed, plucking its lips from Sleet’s mouth, its hand coming to rest on his pregnant belly. Gently, the monster ran its fingers down the slope of the rat’s stomach, seeming to delight in the fluttering of new life beneath his skin. With terrifying strength, the beast tucked Sleet to its withered breast and with the rat straining against it, turned to lope back down the tunnel. 

“Let go of me,” Sleet demanded, pounding futilely against the monster’s bony chest. “Let me go.”

Ignoring the rat’s futile pleas, the horror lumbered down the endless darkness. Only the ragged sounds of the creature’s breathing could be heard over the whimpering of the rodent clasped to its breast. Like deflated bladders, each sagging mound pressed itself to Sleet, the nipples hard and erect against his swollen belly. The jostling of the creature set his brood to flutter in protest, making the rat wince. Powerless to do anything more in that monster’s fearsome grip, his nimble paws clung to his captor. Tears stung at his eyes, trickling down his cheeks as he nestled his muzzle into the leathery flesh. The scent of brimstone and dust flooded his nostrils, the aroma of the creature whom they had uncovered in that dismal crypt. Sleet blinked in the gloom, cursing his fate and that of Skrik. They had delved down deep, picks and shovels in hand. The old map in Skrik’s paw had led them through the endless maze of half buried tunnels, some so filled in that it took them days to uncover. His hands were bleeding, blistered as they dug down into the fetid earth, farther and farther from the gaslights of the undercity. Imagine his surprise when they struck the smooth stone of the tomb. Grey blocks, carved with exquisite care, loomed before them. Picks in hand, they crashed upon the stone, chipping away at the hard granite until at last they had entered the chamber. 

Now that very chamber was coming up once more. Sleet could see the dim glow of the magical flames which shed their wobbling blue light upon the dusty stones. Set within bowls of bronze, those licking tongues of smokeless arcane fire leapt upwards at their approach, dancing and weaving to cast their azure light across the flags. The chamber itself was a spacious square shaped room. The ceiling was high and domed, the structure strong against the stone which lay atop it. Columns were carved with an expert’s eye, their delicate figures bearing the visages of the rodent muses. Shapely females cavorted around each swirling column, leading up to the ceiling. Sleet turned his gaze upon them, seeing the stone rats carrying pails of sweet milk, of ambrosia. Their bodies were barely clothed in the sweeping folds of billowing silk, their plush lips forever frozen in smiles of utter joy. Unlike the beast which held him. The light of the blue flames made the shadows dance upon those stone visages, the carvings appearing to move with a serpentine grace before his eyes. The creature clambered into the chamber and placed the rat down on a once sumptuous rug which sprawled across the floor. The threads had long ago faded, becoming one with the layer of dust that clung to everything in the tomb. Gold sat in high piles heaped into the four corners, spilling across the floor to sparkle with countless gems. Golden cups studded with rubies sat beside bejeweled scepters. Sleet moaned, rolling onto his side to find a silver mirror crusted with enough pearls to buy himself a mansion in the upper gardens of the undercity. 

With a trembling paw, the rat took hold of the mirror, raising it to his face to see the creature he had become. His fur was caked with dirt and dust, matted by the oozing fluids of his captor. One eye was blackened, the sclera a vibrant bloodshot red, while the other bore the blue set within a field of yellow. Slowly, despite the growing tightness in his throat, he began to lower the mirror. A faint gasp escaped from his lips, seeing the swelling of his milk-heavy breasts. Gingerly, he took hold of such a ripe globe, feeling the new found softness at his eager touch. His cock stirred, coming to life as he probed his own flesh, shivering as he ran an exploring finger around his bumpy areola. In spite of his fear, he could not tear himself away from the rise of his pregnant belly, so full and round. His breasts sagged atop his stomach, his nipples crowning that creamy pearl like the jewels which sparkled beneath him. His hips creaked painfully as he rolled over, growing wide with the coming birth. His rump wobbled, dimpled with the maternal padding that made his thighs so succulent to behold. 

“So this is what makes the breeder females so irresistible,” he said. “Mmm, I can see why.”

Between his ripe cheeks, his flower bloomed, the aroma of musk and the sweetly cloying scent of his own nectar made the rat lick his lips, tasting the bitter saliva of his captor. Sleet suddenly dropped the mirror, the glass cracking as it struck the stone. What was he thinking? He was trapped in the lair of a fiend. And what of Skrik? Where was the other rat? From the gloom came a groan and Sleet craned his muzzle over his shoulder to see a mound of flabby brown lying against a pile of glittering gold coins. Skrik was a rat fond of his food, of his fungus ale. Sleet had borne witness many a time to the feeding frenzy of his companion. Still, the rodent was dependable and asked for so little in return. Of the three of them, Skrik was the most eager to lay his hands on the promised riches. How his glimmering black eyes sparkled when they entered the tomb, seeing such a treasure trove laid before them. His nimble paws had dipped down into the gold, letting it flow through his fingers like water. He had been the first to be caught. Now, he lay against that very same gold, a bloated sphere of soft flesh, rippling with the kicking protests of his brood. He was so big as to be carrying two litters, for his own mother was a creature of impressive fertility. She had birthed dozens, Skrik among them. Now, it seemed to Sleet that such a trait ran in the family. Poor Skrik, he thought as he watched the fat rat attempt to right himself. His arms shaking, Skrik tried to heave himself up, but could not push his gravid bulk from the pile of coins. 

Several glittering discs tumbled down the slope, rolling across the floor to come to a rest at the clawed feet of the beast. The creature turned its snout to the coins, sniffing, then lifted its horrid head. In the light of the magical flames, the creature was more horrifying than in the fleeting glimpses of Sleet’s lantern. A twisted caricature of rodentkind, the monster towered over them both. Eyes gleamed in vibrant crimson from the great wedge shaped head. Nostrils puffing, its nose wet and dripping, it opened its wide mouth to reveal the crooked fangs which erupted from diseased gums. A long, fleshy tongue lolled from black lips, curling as a noxious vapor poured from its mouth with each ragged breath. Its torso was long and bony, its leathery flesh clinging to the skeleton like old parchment, revealing every rib, every section of the exposed vertebrae which ran down the creature’s back like the spines of the cave lizards that were so often bred as transportation by the rats. 

A long, scaled tail lashed behind the creature as it turned, the limb splitting into a fork halfway so that two tips whipped about in the still air. Six sagging breasts hung from the withered torso, their nipples like accusing fingers, forever pointing, yet devoid of the sweet milk which flowed from Sleet’s tender buds. A small hump of a belly swelled from the torso, quivering as the beast breathed. But, perhaps most horrifying of all was that member which dangled between the back legs. Red as blood, it throbbed with a lacework of black veins, pumping whatever rancid ichor the beast had for blood. Bone studded the red flesh, forever holding that manhood in a state of erection. The undershaft resembled a spine, miniature vertebrae running along the plump underside to come to a halo of bone that held the wicked spear in place at the creature’s pelvis. Shimmering precum oozed from the gaping tip, drooling onto the floor in glistening drops like melted candle wax. Stuffed into the crinkled scrotum were two massive testicals, swollen and ripe as fat cave pears. Each doubtless churned with the virile seed that had filled Sleet’s and Skrik’s bellies, making their wombs gravid with the horrific spawn of such a creature. The monster turned its attention towards Sleet, holding him fast with those terrible eyes. Greasy black hair hung from the leathery scalp, its head adorned with a living crown of twisting horns that curled back from its face. The rat could only groan, helpless as the monster lumbered on clawed paws towards him. 

“Ugh, Sleet?” 

The monster stopped, turning back to Skrik. 

“Sleet, is that you?” The fat rat was trying with all of his fleeting might to turn himself so that he could see his friend. “Sleet, Sleet I can’t move. Did you come back? Did you find anyone?”

“Skrik,” Sleet called. “I didn’t make it. It… got me.” He wrapped a slender arm around his gravid belly. “Skrik, it’s here with us. Oh, it’s coming towards you right now.”

The beast was inching towards the fat rat. So swollen was he, that Skrik could not see over his own pregnant belly the beast which placed its twisted claws upon his abdomen. 

“Sleet,” wailed the fat rat. “Sleet, help me. It’s got me Sleet.”

Sleet closed his eyes, his paws coming to cover his ears, striving with all of his will to shut out the pitiful cries of his friend. He could do nothing to save him. He understood that now. He had tried, first to pull the monster from Skrik, only to have the wicked beast turn on him. Stuffed and pumped, he had managed to flee into the tunnels, but that too would provide only a temporary respite. He bit his lower lip, tasting the iron tang of blood as he fought back the tears which rolled down his cheeks. 

“Sleet,” screamed Skrik. “It’s got me again. Help me, Sleet.” The fat rat kicked out, but his chubby legs offered nothing as he so futilely struggled in the steel grasp of the creature. 

The monstrous rat horror spread its fingers through Skrik’s creamy fur, letting its talons rasp softly along the curve of his swollen belly. Its long tongue flicked from between its lips, licking the leathery flesh before planting its mouth to Skrik’s belly in a kiss that made the rat shudder with a rapturous sigh. He fell back against the pile of gold as the creature’s lips traced a path up his stomach, coming to circle the distended mound that was his navel. The scents of warm milk and the tang of sweat tickled the nose of the beast, the creature giving a low, rumbling purr as it sought to claim a leaking nipple. The tender buds which studded Skrik’s belly had become puffy and hard. Swollen mounds to raise themselves upon that bloated hump to flow with the shimmering milk which set the rat’s full, heavy breasts to quake with each shuddering breath as the black lips of the creature found such a jewel. Eagerly, it lashed at that nub with its tongue, lapping the sweet elixir from Skrik’s delicate flesh. The whimpers of agony soon became moans of purest ecstasy as the fat rat gave into the ministrations of his captor. 

Sleet slowly opened his eyes, his paws falling from his ears as the soft grunts would escape from his friend’s throat. The creature knelt over the pregnant rat, its twisted claws firmly clasping the rodent’s belly as it lowered its muzzle to the weeping tip that was Skrik’s nipple. Gently, it closed its lips around his tender bud, letting its rough tongue slither around the bumpy flesh of his areola. Skrik moaned, his head tilting back as warm milk flowed, filling the mouth of the beast. The creature’s cheeks swelled, threads of white running from the corners of its mouth as it gulped. The forked tail lashed in pleasure, the taut belly gurgling as it grew full with Skrik’s essence. 

“O-Oh,” moaned Skrik. His paws grasped at the coins, closing around a handful which jingled as they fell from his fingers. “Oh, yes.”

The monster plucked its lips from his weeping bud, milk staining the black lips albin. Milk fell from its jaws as it opened its mouth to reveal those terrible fangs, spilling in fat globules onto Skrik’s gravid belly. Slowly, the beast rose, its snout snuffling in the rat’s sweaty fur. Higher it rose and Sleet watched, spellbound as the lips would find Skrik’s offered throat. Sweetly, like that of a lover, the creature suckled at his furry flesh, kissing his neck as it would plummet down the delicate slope to find the empty chalice of his collarbone. Sleet gulped, feeling the heat blooming in his cheeks as he watched the two lovers. Skrik sighed, giving a contented groan as the creature’s poisonous kisses filled that oasis, overflowing to pour down his sternum and into the wobbling valley between his pendulous breasts. Such orbs, the beast did not ignore. Its hunger not yet sated, it came to claim such a sphere, cupping it gingerly in a gnarled claw. Skrik gave a mewling cry as the creature brought that milky globe to its lips, licking the sweet cream from his flesh. Its long tongue slithered around the curve of his breast to dip down into the shadowed valley, rising up his chest to come once more to his collarbone. 

With an unholy strength, it then seized the rat, lifting his gravid body up so that he sat upon his fleshy rump. His black eyes glittered like raw obsidian, reflecting the ruby gleam of his horrific lover. Skrik swayed in a dreamy haze, his mouth quivering as the rough tongue rose up the slope of his neck, gliding along his chin to find those wetly glistening petals that were his lips. Sleet could only press his lips into a thin, bloodless line as he watched. His nostrils flared, jealousy gnawing at his bloated belly. His cock pulsed between his thighs as the monster took Skrik, its mouth claiming his in a triumphant kiss. Those black, cracked lips, like old leather, pressed themselves to the trembling mouth of the rat, taking him utterly in its unholy embrace. Those terrible claws came to cup Skrik’s face, his cheeks squished as his lips would obediently part for the questing tongue which longed to plunge down his waiting throat. 

The rat moaned softly through his twitching, pink nose, like the soughing of the wind. His mouth opened, his teeth gleaming in contrast to the yellowed fangs of the creature which held him. That slender, rough tongue, ever nimble, lashed at his incisors, curling around his teeth as lips met in a kiss which stole the breath from his heaving lungs. The fat rat raised his shaking arms, unable to even meet around his vastly pregnant belly, his swollen breasts, to gently take hold of the monster’s face, guiding it to his muzzle as he surrendered himself. The rough tongue slithered between his jaws, exploring the smoothness of his teeth, the red flesh of his gums as it came to caress his palate. Sleet saw the shudder of sweet ecstasy, his belly rumbling with the need for that tongue to plummet down his own throat. In spite of his revulsion of the creature, he could not bear to part from its intoxicating caress, the pulsing member which stood at the ready as it mounted the bloated belly of his friend. 

That very rod wept its bitter tears, dribbling across the rat’s stomach like hot wax. Every droplet, sticky and warm, would set Skrik to shiver as the beast’s erect cock rubbed against his lower belly. The engorged balls clenched, fat with the ever fresh seed which yearned to pump deep into the rodent. The creature’s muzzle closed around his mouth, its tongue sliding down his throat to swell his esophagus. Hot brimstone gushed forth from the depths of the creature, filling his lungs with the nauseating perfume of hell itself. Tears stung at the rat’s eyes and he clung fiercely to the wrists of his lover, unable to part from that vile kiss. His belly rose and fell, panting rapidly as the beast plucked its leathery mouth from his slackened jaws. A wisp of black smoke curled on Skrik’s tongue as he sighed, letting a cloud of brimstone pour from his mouth. His eyes had grown glassy, unseeing as the beast claimed him. Gently, it rolled him onto his side, his gravid belly spilling across the mouldering rug, threads of milk leaving their white trails like that of snails in the algae gardens of the undercity. 

“Ugh,” moaned Skrik. He laid upon his side, his manhood erect, glistening with the glittering bead of precum, like the jewels which shimmered around them. 

The beast knelt over him. Grasping him firmly, its muzzle dipping into his neck, it ran its tongue down the slope of his chest, along his belly to come to the fragrant jungle that was the rat’s wiry pubic fur. The tangled weave of dark cocoa compelled the beast to dip its snout into that pungent bush, inhaling the musky aroma of its lover. The creature trembled, its cock disgorging the thick, opalescent slime that was its shimmering precum, its balls fattening within the sagging scrotum. Black veins pumped along the grotesque flesh and the awful display swung between the bony legs, making Sleet’s mouth water. He clapped a paw to his mouth then, shaking his head as he closed his eyes. The soft grunts of Skrik, the deep guttural groans of the monster would make him open his eyes once more, longing to be claimed by the beast, for the intoxicating venom of the creature was already in his veins, filling him with a deep, aching need to be bred over and over again. 

The creature had found Skrik’s cock and was lapping the dew which trickled down that throbbing shaft. The twin tails wagged, the beast groaning from deep within its chest as it rose up the plump, pink undershaft to curl its languid tongue around Skrik’s spongy glans. The rat could only moan, lost in the thrall of bliss. His swollen belly heaved, setting his milky breasts to sway as he rolled onto his back, his chubby thighs parting before the creature. Those red eyes narrowed, the leathery lips closing around his cock, suckling his member. Meanwhile, black talons seized the rat’s hips, sinking deep into the soft flesh of his dimpled rump. Sleet’s eyes grew wide, his throat constricting as he bore witness to the creature plunging down Skrik’s shaft. Rising, it closed its mouth hard around the rat’s cock, its tongue never stopping as it circled the rodent’s manhood. Down, it fell, its lips meeting the base of Skrik’s shaft, sniffing at the sweaty pubic fur, enticed by the scents of the rat. Glittering precum gushed from that ever hard penis, spilling across the rat’s ass to mat the grey fur with sticky ooze. Skrik’s balls churned, ready to burst as the creature slid its mouth from his cock. Slick and shiny, that member trembled as the beast took it in one clawed hand and stroked. Faster, it pumped, its lips coming to kiss those fattening orbs. A cry was ripped from the rat’s throat as the first strings of white seed fountained from his tip. 

Sleet let out a groan as he beheld the glimmering stream of sticky virility gush forth. It should have been him, he thought. He should have been so lucky. With semen coating its fingers, the creature continued to stroke, lapping the white ooze from its flesh, licking the velvet tip of Skrik’s spurting cock, savoring the warmth of his seed as it would lick its lips in contentment. Then, the creature slipped from his groin. Claws grasped the rat’s rump, parting his flabby cheeks to reveal the puckering ring which was his gaping anus. Still wet and sticky from their last coupling, Skrik’s blossom would nonetheless open to the tender kiss of his horrid lover. The creature lowered its muzzle, placing those lips to the rat’s flower, gently coaxing the bloom to open. The questing tongue circled those petals, gliding like a curious finger around Skrik’s quivering anus. The fat rat curled his fingers, his claws grating on the dusty flags, clutching the remains of the rug as the beast’s tongue slid deep, piercing him to the very core. 

A scream broke through the fetid air as Skrik arched his back, wailing his elation to echo from the domed ceiling. The monster slid deeper, caressing his trembling prostate, making the rat howl in jubilation. It pulled back then, slithering up his rectum. Skrik closed around it, not daring to let that rough member escape. But the beast would counter, circling and darting, pressing deep, circling itself inside him. Hot nectar gushed on its tongue, the elixir of its swollen lover splashing into its waiting mouth to be savored like that of a fine wine. The shimmering fluid spilled from its jaws to puddle, shiny and slippery, onto the floor as Sleet looked on in awe-struck wonder. He had rolled onto his elbows and knees, his gravid belly scraping the floor as he panted in desperation. Sleet lowered his head, weeping softly, his shoulders quaking as he felt the lust swirling within him. His own precious bloom had opened, gushing forth the fragrant nectar of his desire to roll down his inner thighs as he gulped the still air of that chamber. The unborn within him shifted, causing the rat to let out a whorish whine, his eyes opening as he raised his head once more to see the creature plucking its tongue from Skrik’s ass. 

“Oh, Skrik,” Sleet whimpered. “No, please don’t give in.”

But the fat rat could no longer hear the pleas of his friend. His eyes rolling back, Skrik had all but utterly submitted to the beast. His legs were parted wide, his knees coming up to his pregnant belly, allowing his flabby cheeks to spread for the creature. The monster licked its lips in glee, those red eyes like hot coals, glowing in the azure gloom of the chamber as it mounted its lover. Claws resting on the brown expanse of Skrik’s gravid belly, the creature pressed itself to him. The sagging breasts spread across his stomach as the bloated belly came to meet Skrik’s abdomen. That throbbing rod, with its bony protrusions, nuzzled at his wet flower. The tip pushed into the puckering ring, stretching tender flesh to make the rat wince. Slowly, the beast began to tilt its hips, thrusting into the groaning rodent. Skrik would moan, pain rippling through his gravid frame, his body shuddering as his belly was filled with fresh expansion. The bony growths which studded that pulsing shaft would rub against the silky flesh of his rectum, stirring the desires of the rat as he cried out his ecstasy. The beast bucked, slamming deep, burying its rod into Skrik’s ass. Sleet looked on in awe, his body growing warm with the need for that very pillar to pierce him as well. The pendulous balls of the monster swayed, slapping as the beast pulled back, circling its hips to crash once more into the gates of Skrik’s womb. 

How he yearned for those ripe fruits to slap so heavily against his ass. Sleet licked his lips, his slender tail whipping behind him as he found himself crawling across the floor. Every nerve was electrified, his body on fire as he fought against the desires which welled up within him. He longed to flee once more, to run from the terrifying sight, but he could not escape it. He craved the beast as it rammed itself madly, battering the flabby walls of Skrik’s wobbling ass. The fat rat moaned, grunting and whimpering. His toes curled, his legs shaking as his pregnant belly began to shift with movements of his unborn. Disturbed by their parents’ lovemaking, the unholy spawn lashed out in protest, making his belly bubble. Boiling, his flesh churned as countless claws raked at his womb, pressing out against his tortured flesh as the beast slammed itself deeper, battering down the last bastion of Skrik’s fecund womb. Such was the size of the monster, that creature was able to lay across the mound of his gravid middle, its mouth finding his throat. There, it kissed and suckled, claws coming to clasp the rat’s belly as it continued to pump. The heavy balls clenched, ready to burst with the white seed which would sire another squirming brood. 

Gratefully would the rat accept such a gift, his legs opening wider, his hips creaking as he prepared himself for another virile load. Sleet dragged his swollen belly across the dusty floor, his milk dribbling onto the stone as he crawled. Tears streamed from his eyes as he watched the monster push deep and then hold, its body quaking as the beast prepared to release. His paw slid across the stone, striking something hard and wooden. Sleet tore himself from the carnal view to find that he had bumped into one of their picks. The dull metal gleamed in the azure torchlight, its point honed well enough to split flesh as well as rock. Hope surged within his breast, driving back his twisted need for the creature. His paw closed around the pick and he rose onto his knees, the weapon raised before him as he beheld the terrible climax. 

The monster shuddered and released, venting its pent up fury into Skrik. Hot, gushing seed flowed deep, filling the rat’s hungry womb. His belly began to swell, growing bigger as skin stretched to its utmost. Sleet shook his head in bewildered horror, unable to fathom how Skrik would be able to sustain the birth of three litters. The rat’s breasts gushed, fattening as his body took on the matriarchal form like that of the prime breeder females. By the holy teeth of the Underking, he was a goddess, thought Sleet. Skrik’s milk-heavy breasts bloated into great, ripened fruits which swayed from his narrow chest. His belly surged with new expansion as the brood multiplied. The creature pulled its shimmering rod free, allowing a thin trickle of albin slime to spurt from the rat’s anus. A sparkling thread still clung between them as it then turned to see Sleet kneeling before it. 

“D-Don’t come any closer,” the rat wailed. 

He brandished the pick before him, his palms sweaty, his paws shaking as the beast rose, coming towards him. Those red eyes gleamed, reflecting his terrified visage. Sleet waved the pick at the beast, tears in his eyes. 

“Don’t come any closer,” he screamed. “I’ll… I’ll do it. Don’t come near me.”

But the beast ignored him. Closer it crept, its mouth opening to let curl a single wisp of black smoke. Sleet’s chest heaved and he let the pick drop from his paws. Clattering onto the stone, the dull steel echoed from the walls as he then raised his muzzle to the lowering jaws of the beast. 

“I can’t,” he sobbed. “I just can’t.”

Placing its taloned fingers upon his shoulders, the beast came to meet the rat’s trembling lips. Such a kiss would drive the breath from his lungs and Sleet found his strength fleeing before the embrace of the monster. His shaking paws came to grasp the sinewy wrists, relishing the unholy power which was felt just below the leathery flesh. Those lips, wet and fragrant with the nectar of Skrik, tasted like precious ambrosia as he opened his mouth to the creature. His teeth parted, offering no resistance to that nimble tongue which quickly leapt into his mouth. Slowly, warm and wet, it explored his gums, lapping at his smooth fangs, curling itself along the ridges of his palate. Sleet hummed his elation, his nostrils flaring as he surrendered himself to the beast. Gently, he felt himself falling backwards, the creature lowering him to the floor. The coolness of the stone tickled his back, his belly thrusting upwards to press against bony ribs. 

The distended hump that was Sleet’s navel rubbed deliciously upon that leathery skin, sending ripples to tingle up his spine. His nipples were growing more erect, weeping freely their fresh milk to wet his creamy fur as he slid his nimble paws up the monster’s arms. The muscles of the beast were like steel cables beneath its parchment flesh, filled with a raw power which stirred the blossom of the rat to open, gushing its fragrant nectar upon the stones, spreading from his fattened rump as Sleet would wrap his arms around the sinewy neck. The creature’s lips claimed his mouth, black, soft and so warm, they spread over his muzzle, while that eager tongue slithered deeper. Plunging down his gullet, the questing member swirled, twisting and curling as it slid back, tickling his flesh to make the rat’s nose puff in tortured ecstasy. His belly clenched painfully, the breath fleeing from his lungs in a great huff as the monster’s tongue rubbed the satiny roof of his mouth. His own tongue would come alive, darting beneath that rough member to explore the alien realm of the beast. The acidic bitterness of brimstone filled his mouth, puffing his cheeks as the beast exhaled, billowing black smoke which seeped from the corners of his mouth in ebon coils. The yellow fangs were smooth, tasting of sulfur, while the rotting gums were a strange delight to the rodent. He slid across the rough tongue, caressing that writhing limb as the beast would slip under his own tongue to offer its gentle touch. 

The creature finally pulled back, plucking its lips from Sleet’s trembling mouth. The rat offered up a pitiful mewl, like a pup having been deprived of the milky teat. The creature purred deep in that bony chest, the withered husks of its breasts swaying like empty sacks as it lowered that terrible muzzle to nudge Sleet’s scruffy chin. The rat tilted his head back, offering his supple throat to the monster. The black lips suckled at his neck with an oddly tender touch. Despite the horror, there was a gentleness to the beast which set the rat to shudder in elation as the warm tongue slipped from the jaws of the creature to slide down his throat, dipping into the empty well that was his collarbone. As with Skrik, the creature would fill that empty cup, its love spilling over the rim to pour down the slope of Sleet’s chest, its kisses guiding it to the wobbling valley between Sleet’s ripe breasts. 

“O-Oh, yes,” groaned the rat. 

His fingers were hopelessly tangled in the limp, greasy hair. Finding the horns which crowned that horrid head, he clung tightly as the monster’s muzzle dipped between his milky breasts. The rich scent of his essence, of sweat and musk, filled the beast’s nose, spurring it to take hold of such a bloated globe. Squeezing gently, like a ripe fruit, it lashed its tails in glee as the glimmering drop that was Sleet’s milk began to trickle down the snowy slope. Those eager lips closed around the pink bud, savoring the taste of its lover. The rat gripped the horns of the creature until his arms shook and his knuckles were white. Sleet bit down on his lower lip, his entire body aflame with the desire which boiled within his hot belly. 

“Please,” he sighed. “Ugh, I can’t take it.”

He wanted to scream, to flee from the horror. Yet, his body would not respond. His legs were parting now, ready to give himself to the creature. Like Skrik, he would soon bear another litter, to grow fatter and rounder with the swelling of maternity. He wanted it, in spite of his revulsion. He wanted it so badly. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he knew that he had not the strength to resist. The creature slid along his swollen belly, its lips white with his milk. Soon, he thought, seeing the creature disappearing below the horizon of his gravid middle. Soon that terrible spear would pierce him with such wonderful, horrible joy. Clawed fingers would come to place themselves on his quivering thighs and Sleet let out a whimper. Hot, billowing breath was on his cock, making his wiry pubic fur sway as the beast’s muzzle hovered just above his manhood. 

This was it, he thought. This was to be the moment. Suddenly, the beast reared back with a howl and Sleet looked up. His hands were ripped away from the horned head as the monster thrashed about in the throes of agony. The creature whipped around, black blood leaking down its back from a terrible wound in its flesh. Sleet’s heart leapt to see the beast wounded and his eyes darted to the form of another rat. He stood before the creature with a pick in hand. Black ichor covered the tip, glistening azure in the torchlight as he held the weapon aloft. His body was slender, yet well muscled beneath a tunic of green. Leather wraps covered his calves and forearms and the rat glared at the monster with an expression of grim determination. 

“Strukretch,” squeaked Sleet. “I thought the creature got you long ago.”

The heroic rodent brandished his pick and shot a glance at Sleet. “Not so. But I was lost in the tunnels without a light for quite some time. Now, Sleet, I’m here and I’m going to get us all out.”

Hope swelled in Sleet’s breast. Should his friend succeed, they would all be saved. But, could Strukretch survive against the demon which loomed above him?