His fleeting hopes had been answered. Sleet’s heart hammered as he watched his savior circling the room, his nimble feet scuffing on the old rug. Clouds of dust whirled around Strukretch as the rat kept aloft his weapon, ready to plunge the lethal blade into the flesh of the snarling fiend which crouched as if ready to pounce. The beast let out a deep growl and leapt, talons extended, ready to rend the flesh from the rat’s bones. Those terrible crimson eyes were wide, drinking in the fear which it would savor like heady wine. Only, there was no fear in that grim rodent’s visage. Perhaps it was the flood of hormones which bubbled within him, but Sleet could not help but to clap his paws to his breast and sigh as his hero stood in defiance of the monster. Like the tales told when he was young, Strukretch had become the chivalrous knight to save the helpless princess. Feeling a warmth in his swollen belly, Sleet gave a thin moan, his lips puckering as he longed to place them on the hard mouth of the other rat. The heat bloomed in his cheeks and the rodent shook his head, unable to believe what he was thinking. 

The monster lunged, talons raking at the air as Strukretch dove under that misshapen form. Sleet out a stifled shriek as those terrible claws almost tore into the rat’s unprotected back. Falling into a roll beneath the monster, Strukretch swung his pick, driving the steel point up between the ribs of the creature. Black blood gushed forth, soaking the front of his tunic like spilled ink. A warbling cry ripped itself from the ghastly throat of the monster, the beast tottering as the rat tore his weapon free. Blood pouring from what should have been a lethal wound, the creature spun and threw itself at the rat. Those crimson orbs were alive with a primitive hatred, claws seeking to clasp the rat, bringing him to the stones. 

“Strukretch,” wailed Sleet. “Look out.”

But the pregnant rat need not have cried out in alarm, for the nimble rodent was already moving. With the grace of a dancer, Strukretch slipped the deadly claws, reposting with a swing of his pick which opened a gash from the beast’s snout to its crimson eye. Black blood glistened on the muzzle of the beast and the creature clapped a claw to its face, retreating from the rat and his pick. Strukretch lowered his weapon and then quickly rushed to the side of Sleet. He knelt beside the gravid rat, his hand slowly coming to rest on the maternal hump of Sleet’s distended belly. 

“Sleet,” said the rat. “Oh, by the Underking, you look like a breeder female.”

“I feel like one,” replied Sleet. He seized Strukretch by the wrist, his eyes wide. “It was awful. It did this to Skrik. We’re both…” He found that he could not say the words. Finally, Sleet mustered up his courage and said, “We’re both pregnant, Strukretch. I can feel them inside me.”

From his belly came the flutters of new life, making Strukretch pull his hand back as if Sleet had become something venomous.

“I-I don’t know why it’s happening,” wept Sleet. “I don’t understand.”

“I think I do,” said Strukretch. The rat turned, his gaze falling on an old tapestry which hung from the crumbling walls. Though faded with time and filthy with dust, it still depicted a beautiful, matronly rodent. A golden crown rested upon her regal head, her expression one of quiet sadness. “Do you recall the stories of Queen Salathia Shivertail?”

“The queen?” stammered Sleet. “But, she died over five hundred years ago.”

“Perhaps not,” said Strukretch. “The queen was said to have yearned, ached for children, but she could never bear any offspring. So distraught was she, that the queen began to worship demons, performing foul rituals in hopes of granting her wish. She was taken away in the end and thought to have died in a cell, overcome with madness. 

The beast gave a growl, crouching in the dim corner, the black blood had ceased to flow, its wounds appearing to have closed. 

Strukretch seized his pick, his eyes not wavering from the monster. “It looks like she got her wish, or part of it at any rate. That monster is Queen Salathia, her body given over to the demons, becoming a demon herself. This room was the cell they placed her in, Sleet. A tomb fit for a queen. When we broke into this chamber, we offered her a way out.” He turned quickly to the pregnant rat. “Don’t you see? We have to do something before she can find her way back to the undercity.”

Pain rippled through Sleet’s lower belly as his squirming brood slid deeper down into his womb. His stomach was beginning to droop, the birth not far from now. “I can barely get up,” he said. “And Skrik, he’s so heavy and full.”

From where he lay, the fat rat groaned in whorish contentment. 

“Skrik is of no help to us,” said Strukretch. “I’ve got to stop her somehow.”

From the corner the demonic form of Queen Salathia was now moving. Slithering across the mouldering rug, she came in on all fours, her lips peeling back to reveal her crooked yellow fangs. With a screech, the rat demon hurled herself at Strukretch, her claws raking at his tunic, ripping the flimsy fabric from his broad chest. The rat stumbled back and swung his pick, but the demon, knowing now the threat the rat posed, ducked the blow and swung a long, sinewy arm at the rodent’s feet. Strukretch managed to move his left leg aside, but his right was still on the ground when the demon struck. Finding himself off balance, the rat let out a cry, tumbling to the floor with a heavy thud. Clouds of swirling dust flew into the still air, making the room glimmer in a blue haze from the sputtering torches. 

Strukretch gave a grunt. His paws curled around empty air and a moment of panic overtook him as he looked up into the crimson gaze of the demon. His own terrified image looked back at him, reflected in those awful red orbs. He turned, seeing his pick laying not far from where he had fallen. Above him, Queen Salathia opened her jaws, black smoke billowing from her lips to boil in the still air as hot saliva drooled from her fangs in thick, yellow strings. Strukretch reached for his pick, stretching as best as he could, trying with all of his might to place a single digit on the smooth wooden haft. Alas that his only hope should lie just out of reach. The demon queen was lowering her fearsome muzzle, dripping strings of thick saliva to patter upon his fur as her mouth hovered just above his quivering lips. The scents of musk, of the raw, pungent odors of the creature swam in his twitching, pink nose, filling his head with a dizzying aroma which made his vision blur. Strukretch felt himself falling deeper into that swirling darkness as the terrible claws came to rest upon his narrow hips. 

The demon snuffled at his chest, inhaling the scent of this new lover, drinking in his fragrance as she came to nuzzle the flat belly. A belly which soon would be filled with squirming life. The dreadful member which shivered between her thighs disgorged its reeking precum, splattering onto the rug as the bestial queen’s balls churned, eager to vent their fury into the rat. Her long, rough tongue slithered from her lips, lapping the tang of sweat from Strukretch’s body. Seizing upon a pink nipple, she circled the smooth areola, flicking the erect nub of tender flesh. The rat moaned, his body shaking as primal ecstasy began to win against his fear. 

“Strukretch,” called Sleet. “Please, you have to get away from her. Don’t give in to her.”

The demon queen raised her muzzle, letting her tongue trail languidly along the slope of the rat’s chest, gliding along his supplet throat to crest the scruff of his chin. Black smoke billowed from her lips, brimstone swirling into the air in lazy ribbons as her lips met the wet mouth of her new lover. Such a kiss was enough to steal the breath from the rodent’s lungs. Strukretch opened his eyes, retching on the acidic taste of the demon queen. The creature pulled back, her crimson eyes narrowing, a soft purr vibrating in her bony chest as she craved the mouth of her love. The rat thrust out a paw, unable to claim his weapon, he instead found the cool touch of metal. His fingers curled into a pile of tarnished gold coins, feeling the heft of their weight in his paw. Such a fortune would be enough to buy a mansion in the upper city, and Strukretch cursed his fate, for why else had he and the other rats come this far? The demon queen was lowering herself for another kiss, her body trembling in expectation, her cock drooling its vile sludge as she brought her lips closer. With a cry, the rat whipped his fist around, heaving those golden discs into the unexpectant face of the queen. 

The demon reared back with a surprised shriek, coming up on her hind legs as the tinkle of gold echoed sharply around her. Strukretch rolled, crawling as fast as he could from the monster. His paw fell upon the pick and a new found hope surged within him. With weapon in hand, he could fight the horror once more. The beast let out a roar and before the rat could turn, had pounced upon him. Strukretch cried out, crushed beneath the bulk of the monster. He tried to raise his pick, but the demon queen slammed a claw down on his arm. In spite of his own strength, which was remarkable for his kind, he had not the might to overpower such a creature. The queen snarled, her muzzle dipping to the back of his neck, sniffing at his fur. Strukretch fought against the terrible strength of the demon queen, grunting and straining as the beast lowered herself against his back. The withered breasts caressed the indent of his spine, gliding along his muscled back like questing fingers as the creature tilted her hips. Slowly, she took hold of his leg, and cupping his sleek thigh, pushed his leg outward. 

Strukretch bit and swore, striving to pull himself out from under the beast, but he could not dislodge the demon queen as she slid along his arm to grasp the pick. With a twist, she tore the weapon from his hand and tossed across the room to collide into the wall with a crash. Taking hold now of his other leg, she would likewise lift that thigh so that his knees were spread even with his ribs so that his compact rump would split down the middle like a freshly cut peach. A chill swept down his spine, for the rat had then realized the terrible gravity of his mistake. He now lay on his belly, his ass thrusting upwards while the demon queen positioned herself over him. Already, that wicked head was pressing against his tight ring, probing, pushing as it sought entry into his blossom. 

“No,” Strukretch gasped. “No, please no…”

The queen, for a royal she was, did not listen to his pathetic pleas. She was a creature born to be obeyed, not to be denied. Her muzzle came to his neck, hot, wet breath blew gently on his fur, making his sweaty flesh tingle as she planted her lips against his throat. The rat gave a whimpering moan, his body shaking. Rising, she came to the corner of his jaw, following the bone to the lobe of his hairless ear. Pink and fragile, with thin, red veins that pulsed beneath her leathery lips, the demonic rat gently, so lovingly, began to caress that delicate ear. Strukretch closed his eyes, his fingers splaying on the dusty stone. Beneath his stomach, the mouldering rug itched his fur as his belly clenched. 

“U-Uh… Ugngh…” came the grunts from the rat. 

The demon nibbled at his flesh, her crooked teeth pinching ever so slightly so that Strukretch would moan in tortured elation. His body trembled beneath her, growing hot with a desire that would soon make his fragrant blossom open, wet and ready for her to plume deep. She only had to coax the rat further. Her tongue slipped from between her lips, tracing the lobe of the rat’s ear, circling the deep well of his ear canal. Slowly, so agonizingly, wondrously slowly, the demon queen circled, touching, licking, driving Strukretch into a fit of shrieking jubilation. He could not take the rapturous torture as the beast plunged, her tongue darting deep into his ear, filling his brain with her intoxicating venom. Swirling, lapping, she slid back, curling her tongue only to come in once more. The rat let out a wail, his anus growing slack, opening to the press of her throbbing cock. 

This was her moment of triumph. Strukretch sobbed, his mind a swirling haze as unholy pain flooded his lower belly. His flesh stretched, torn by the bony spear that pierced his very core. The demon queen lunged, her hips bucking as she pushed deep, crashing against the trembling gland of the rat. Her hips tilted, her tip caressing the swollen prostate, stirring against Strukretch, who wailed his growing elation as the monster pulled back. His rectum shuddered, closing around her, not daring to allow the beast to escape. The demon pulled her muzzle from his ear, leaving his skin slick and shiny, raising herself up to buck against him faster, harder, pushing always deeper. 

“Oh… O-Oh,” groaned the rat as his body undulated with the quickening pace of his demonic lover. 

Strukretch’s face had become as colorless as raw clay, his eyes rolling back and his tongue flopping from his slackened jaws. Sleet looked on in horror and not without a bit of jealousy. His fingers crept along the swell of his pregnant belly, finding the ripe bump of an erect nipple. Watching as the other rat submitted to decadent pleasure, moaning like a breeder female in heat, he gave that nub a sharp twist, shivering as pain and exquisite pleasure would each bubble in his brain. His cock throbbed, weeping its bitter tears down his quivering shaft as he continued to watch. The demon queen’s cock slid deep, burying itself to the hilt within the tight buttocks of the other rat. A howl burst from Strukretch, his eyes becoming bright with ecstatic glee. Seizing the squealing rodent, the demon queen would turn him, pulling herself out just enough to roll Strukretch onto his side. The creature took hold of his leg, laying it against her breast as she came in once more, thrusting deep to batter the gates of his newly grown womb. Her vile precum spurted, the hot mixture boiling within his belly. His guts churned, swelling and bloated, roiling within him as his body began the dreadful change. His hips creaked as the monster thrust, her pounding lunges cracking the bone, allowing it to widen, the pelvis reshaping as his flesh would warp with the application of her demonic essence. His body was changing, becoming the vessel to carry her brood. The demonic rodent narrowed her eyes, licking her lips with delight as she felt the tickle in her bloated scrotum. Her balls were clenched, ready to vomit their virile seed as she slammed hard, not pulling back. Her cock shivered, spurting shimmering precum which was quickly thickening into the rich semen that pumped from her demon possessed manhood. 

Strukretch’s fingers slid from the rug to dig into the stone, leaving white furrows in their wake as he curled his paws. His hot face, he would place against the floor, seeking succor in the relative coolness of the dusty stone. Radiant heat pooled in his lower belly, spreading to fill his swelling abdomen as the demonic queen shuddered, giving forth another ropy strand to be lapped up by his hungry womb. The demon pumped, humming low in her chest as her seed would flow. The rat’s belly was swelling against her claws and she took hold of Strukretch, lifting him from the floor so that he now rested against her stomach. Her great arm wound around his growing middle, she continued to rock her hips, pouring her horrid essence into him. The rodent fell slack in her arms, unable to so much as whimper as the beast then laid him on the rug. Her hips pulled back, sliding her cock from his dripping flower. The petals crushed and bruised, a thin string of seed clung from his rump, connecting to the bony tip, forever linking the pair as the demon stood and set her baleful gaze on Sleet. 

Seeing the creature coming towards him, the hope was dashed from the rat. Sleet’s paws flew to his mouth, his horror overwhelming as he beheld Strukretch, belly distended with the coming of pregnancy, lying on the floor. His one chance of being rescued was now a prisoner, the same as him. In the gloom, Skrik gave a pained moan, his belly bubbling with the fury of clawed feet. How much longer, Sleet wondered, until the time would come for birth? Strukretch whimpered pitifully, drawing his knees to his growing belly, already bloated to six months and not stopping. The faint ripples below his fur told of the activity of his brood, the rat wrapping his arms around his gravid stomach, his once muscular chest now flabby with the fresh milk that leaked from his aching nipples. The demon was upon him now and Sleet looked up into those red eyes, seeing himself reflected in their infernal glare. Never had he known such horror, nor such bewildering lust. His cock throbbed painfully, spurting shimmering precum to seep into the fur of his thigh, making his leg sticky and shiny as he fell back before the hot mouth, the hungering lips which fastened themselves to his throat. 

Queen Salathia, demon possessed, immortal monster, the ruler of this underground tomb would at last claim her prize. Her hungering mouth closed on Sleet’s tender flesh, suckling his supple throat to make the little rat purr. The demonic rodent’s questing fingers sought the swollen belly of her lover, her claws gingerly caressing flesh bloated into full pregnancy. Sleet’s middle fluttered as his stomach clenched, tickled by the touch of the beast. His nipples ached, thrusting themselves up like accusing fingers through the creamy scruff of his white belly. Those precious gems the demon would seek out, circling the bumpy areolas, flicking the hardened nubs which wept their white milk to seep into the rat’s fur. His navel was a distended hump atop that greater mound and the demonic queen did find that raised protuberance, her claws tracing around that sweet curve to dip down his lower belly. Her fangs came free of Sleet’s neck, her lips now plunging into the wobbling valley between his milky breasts, inhaling the rich aroma of his sweat and musk, the sweetness of his milk as her hand would dare the tangled jungle of the rat’s pubic fur. 

The red eyes narrowed, her tongue licking the black, leathery lips as the queen would raise her terrible horned head to look the rat in the eyes. From her maw came the black wisps of brimstone, the noxious odor once enough to make Sleet gag, now the rat drank in the acidic fragrance like a heady perfume. His head swam and Sleet fell back upon the cold, dusty stone. The world around him became as an azure mist, his body floating on that giddy sea of carnal bliss as seeking lips would travel along his gravid belly, their kisses leaving behind the wet, glistening trail of a slippery tongue. Down, she plummeted, lapping the dew of the rat’s leaking tits, savoring the taste as if to stoke her appetites for the feast to come. The snuffling muzzle of the beast dipped down, slipping below the expansive horizon that was Sleet’s growing belly, disappearing, save for the crooked, twisting horns which crowned her misshapen head. Her breath blew hot and wet upon his quivering manhood and Sleet could not hold back his desires. With a wail, he released a shimmering stream of precum, spurting into the air like a fountain as the demonic queen’s muzzle dove into the damp tangle of his wiry pubic fur. 

Seized by those powerful claws, his thighs were stretched wide, demonic fingers sinking into yielding flesh as his cock leapt to meet the black lips. His balls churned, fat with the fresh seed which made the sagging belly of the beast quake with glee. Her nose inhaled his rich aroma, her body trembling as her tongue slid from between her jaws to gently flick his spongy tip. Sleet howled, enough to rouse the vastly bloated Skrik to moan in reply. The fat rat, so hopelessly gravid, rubbed his bubbling belly, soothing the brood within before rolling to his side. Sleet saw none of this, for his eyes were closed, his head swimming in a dense fog of ecstasy. The demonic rat’s tongue slithered down his plump undershaft, her hand cupping his balls, rolling the firm orbs in her fingers like precious gems. Down, she slid, her tongue wrapping around the base of Sleet’s manhood, her lips closing then around his tip. The rat groaned, tears beginning to trickle from his eyes as the queen dipped her head. At the same time, her tongue did rise, meeting her lips as she plunged down the rat’s cock. His balls quivered in her hand, demanding to release, but finding no succor as the demonic queen met the base of his shaft. Inhaling the mucky aroma of his fur, she then rose, her rough tongue sliding along his flesh. Her lips tightened around his shaft, milking him as she lapped the shimmering fluid which gushed from his velvet glans. 

Sleet cried out in elation, his wailing screams reverberating from the stones as the beast quickened her pace. Her lips fell, rose, growing faster, harder with each blessed pump. Precum flowed like the sparkling court wines at the Underking’s table, filling the greedy mouth of the demonic queen as her whipping tails wagged in the air above her. Her head dipped, claws coming to take hold of Sleet’s balls, her thumb gently massaging his scrotum. She tugged on that crinkled pouch, her other hand caressing his plumping perineum. Sweat soaked the rat’s fur as he grasped at the dusty stone. Grime caked his grey pelt, sticking to the milky wetness on his belly. Finding no purchase, Sleet’s paws shot for the only handhold he could find, the horns of the beast. He clasped his fingers around those twisting growths as the queen plummeted. Sleet moaned, drawing her down, guiding her to the furry base of his rod as her fingers found his buttocks. The spicy scent of his nectar flooded the chamber, his anus slack and wet, ready for her bony manhood to pierce him. He wanted it, craved it, in spite of the horror of the creature who wrapped her tongue around his stiffened member. 

“Ungh… U-Uh…” Sleet managed to whimper through clenched fangs. 

He could not hold on any longer. His spurting precum was growing white with the first strings of his potent seed, his cock erupting into the mouth of the demonic queen. Queen Salathia closed her lips around his rod, her cheeks swelling with the richness of Sleet’s essence. Eagerly, she gulped the sticky wad, letting it pour down her throat to fill her empty belly. Her tails swayed above her, the red eyes gleaming in triumph as she drank yet more of the rat’s pumping semen. Sleet felt the strength fading from his arms, his body growing heavy as he flopped to the floor, panting, devoid of the will to so much as lift his weary head. The beast plucked her sticky lips free from his softening member, white seed like foam seeping from the corners of her mouth as she placed her hands on his wide, round hips. The fearsome visage of the demonic queen filled his gaze, her mouth parting, strings of loose semen dripping from her yellow, crooked fangs as she came to place her lips on his mouth. Her tongue slid between his teeth, the taste of his own bitter cream on her breath made him swoon. His own tongue curled around hers, licking his semen from her flesh, tasting himself on her as she raised her head. Their tongues would dance in the open air, glistening with the dull azure of the magical fires, seed and saliva dripping from the demon’s jaws patter upon Sleet’s fur. 

Sleet gave a sigh, utterly under the spell of the beast. Ensorcelled by the demon, he could not look away from her. Her crimson eyes, the yellow fangs, all left him in a trance. She was beautiful, more desirable than all the breeder females of the undercity. Her withered breasts, tipped with the shriveled nipples, glided along the swell of his pregnant belly as the beast drew back, sending ripples to tingle up his spine, to bubble in his fevered brain as the creature would seek to turn him over. Obediently, Sleet rolled himself onto his belly with a grunt. His fat rump thrust into the air, cheeks parting just enough to reveal the glistening flower of his anus, he gave himself to the demonic queen. Her fingers sank deep into soft, jiggling flesh, parting his cheeks to expose the bloom within. The scents of his sweat and the gushing honey of his blossom were enthralling. Her tongue slithered free, lapping at the puckering ring which sought to open to her. Gently, she pushed, pressing deep into that quivering bloom. There was no resistance as her tongue came to caress Sleet’s trembling gland. The little rat cried out, tears in his eyes as his body came alive. His paw crept towards his belly as the demonic queen’s tongue slid back, his fingers sliding along the swell of his flesh. His mind reeled with the thoughts of being filled so utterly with squirming rat pups. Breed, grow, give birth so as to breed again. Sleet’s vision swam as his lips curled into the crooked smile of one so content. 

The demonic queen’s tongue curled, plunging once more, savoring the taste of her lover. Coated in the sticky warmth of Sleet’s own seed, the rat began to wonder if he could become pregnant with his own brood. A thrill raced up his spine as he imagined his belly growing, fluttering with the offspring sired by his own seed. The beast plucked her lips from his wet ring, leaving his anus slack and ready. His buttocks quaked in her claws, his body twitching with the sensitive excitement as his fur glimmered in the glow of the firelight. He was ready. Taking the gravid rat into her claws, Queen Salathia sat back on her bony haunches. Lifting Sleet up, she positioned him above that forever erect member. Like a vicious spike, it leaked a stream of glimmering precum, her balls swollen so heavy with seed as she lowered the rat onto her cock. Sleet let out a thin mewl as his flesh stretched, his belly expanding before his eyes as the demonic rat’s manhood filled him. Impaled thusly on the queen’s spear, he leaned back into the softness of her withered breasts. Her round belly was firm against his lower back, like that of a leather armchair. Her flesh was warm, so warm as the creature raised him up her shivering rod. 

Instinctively, Sleet closed around her, as if he feared to be separated from the monster’s shivering girth. Down, he fell, the bony sawtooth ridges of her cock rubbing against his flesh, stirring his rectum to shudder as she crashed into his trembling prostate. Sleet grasped the sinewy wrists of the monster, seeing the protrusion of his belly as her cock pushed deep. Uttering a groan, he was lifted once more, sliding up her shaft as the monster shuddered behind him. Her eyes were closing, her lips curling into a languid, satisfied smile. She lowered him once more, punching deep into his guts as her throbbing flesh filled him. Spittle drooling from his chin, Sleet clung to her, riding that glistening shaft, sliding up, then back down in a single smooth rhythm. His guts churned, his womb quivering, begging to be filled as the first molten spurts of shimmering precum splattered the quaking gates. 

Sleet laid his head back, looking up into the half-closed eyes of his lover. The demonic queen lowered her muzzle, placing her lips to his as she bucked, raising him up. The acidic tang of brimstone danced upon his tongue, wisps of black smoke trailing from his nostrils as Sleet drank in the hot breath of his queen. She slid him back down, stopping then, her cock pulsing. The creature shivered, her balls, so fat with seed, retracting into her pelvis as she plucked her lips from the ripe mouth of Sleet. Taking a firm hold of the little rat, she quickened her pace, sliding him up and down her cock faster, sawing harder, rubbing against the silky quivering walls of Sleet’s rectum, seeking to drive herself into that final, shrieking climax. His toes curling, Sleet would close himself around her, his moaning a chorus to the guttural grunts of the demon possessed rat. His paws slipped from her wrists, coming to clutch his gravid belly, his fingers gliding down the ripe curve of his pregnancy, longing for the surge of new growth which was to come. A cry escaped Sleet’s throat, wild and oozing with the rawness of pure lust. Each pump was a punch deep in the belly, her bony cock scouring his flesh until he feared his skin would be scraped away. Precum flowed from his broken flower, leaking down the demon’s shaft as her pace slowed, drawing him down until his ass met the base of her shaft. Panting with ragged breaths that let forth billowing clouds of black smoke, the demon released. 

With whorish glee, Sleet took that gushing fountain of virile seed. Hot as molten bronze, the essence of Queen Salathia raced upwards, filling his rectum until it burst the last gate of his stubborn womb. His belly swelled with fresh expansion, bloating beyond the massive girth of full-term for a rat, distending until he appeared pregnant with two litters. Much like Skrik, Sleet’s maternal hump was a vast orb of stretching flesh. Milk leaked from every tender nipple, running down the slope of his belly, flowing from his sagging breasts which wobbled pendulously atop his stomach. Hot seed spurted from his overfilled rump, seeping down the demonic rat’s cock as she slid the groaning creature from her rod. A thread of loose semen still clung to her flowing tip, connecting them as Sleet laid on the floor. The rat drew his knees to his growing belly, sobbing as the first pangs of his stretched and bruised flesh would overtake the dwindling ecstasy of his mating. 

He shook, his body growing cold as he turned to see the beast crawling away from him. Upon a pile of gold and jewels was draped a tapestry. Its navy threads faded with time. The queen laid herself upon her makeshift throne, gazing upon her gravid kingdom. Bellies swollen, her harem lay in helpless repose before her. Ripening fruits which would soon burst, spilling forth her precious seeds to conquer new worlds. Sleet squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold back the tears, the shuddering sobs as the lives within him fluttered in protest. Semen still leaked from his rump, matting his fur as it flowed onto the dusty stones.

“Sleet,” came a whisper. “Sleet, can you hear me?”

It was Strukretch. The rat was growing fast, already pregnant to full-term, he winced, placing a paw on his belly. He was on his knees, one paw bracing him, while the other wrapped itself around his sagging middle. 

“Strukretch?” Sleet tried to sit up, falling once before being able to right himself. He quickly turned to glance at the demonic queen, but Salathia had turned her attention to Skrik. “What are you doing?”

The other rat was crawling now, his path drawing him ever closer to the queen. “I’m going to distract her,” he said. “Sleet, it’s up to you. I don’t think I can muster the strength to flee, and Skrik?” He looked at the fat rat and shook his head, “He’s gone, Sleet. You’re all we have.” He licked his lips, seeing the throbbing member of the queen before him. “I don’t have the will, Sleet. I-I can’t get away, but you still can. Go from here. Get to the undercity. Find someone to help us.”

“Strukretch, I can’t,” whimpered Sleet. “I just… What about you?”

“Forget me,” hissed the other rat. “This is all on you. Go, while I keep her occupied.”

Sleet watched as Strukretch dragged his gravid belly across the stones. His fur scuffed softly on the stones, scraping the mouldering rug, leaving a trail as he parted the dust. With tentative movements, he came to prostrate himself before the demon, his queen. The demonic rat turned from the bloated form of Skrik, who she had been observing, her red eyes gleaming as she stared down at the pathetic creature at her feet. Strukretch heaved himself upright, resting upon his knees to reach out to that ever throbbing pillar which stood like an obelisk of flesh and bone. Her cock he did take into his paws, his nimble fingers sticky with the cooling slime of her expended semen. Strukretch paused, bringing a paw to his muzzle, there to lick the white ooze which clung to his fingers like jelly. Sleet staggered to his feet, smacking his lips as he beheld such a sight. His blood boiled in his veins, his heart pounding against his ribs. The other rat placed his lips to the queen’s scepter, drawing himself down, down to the melon-sized testicals, bloating so full in their thin sheath of scrotal flesh. 

The demonic queen sighed, her eyes falling closed. Black brimstone billowed from her lips, while Strukretch would claim a firm orb. His fangs sank into the veined flesh, suckling at the churning globe to make the precum bubble from the monster’s tip. His nose turned up, following that shimmering trail, his tongue lapping at the bitter ooze which coated the queen’s cock like a salty glaze. His lips closed around her tip, savoring the warmth of her flesh, the tang of sweat and the raw sex which hung about her like a heady perfume. The rat’s tail flicked wildly, his moans growing louder, more passionate as the queen’s rod gushed into his mouth. Sleet was at the opening to the tunnels, his hand braced on the rough stone. He watched, unable to look away. His belly gnawed with revulsion and not a little jealousy, knowing that he could have been so easily taken. Strukretch surrendered, given to lust, to the sweet temptations of maternity. The last he saw, as Sleet turned and stumbled into the dark, was the rat being lifted, his fattened rump pierced upon that rigid spear. 

The raucous cries of Strukretch rang in his ears and Sleet had to clap both paws over his ears to drown out the dreadful echoes of the other rat. His belly had grown massive since his previous attempt, swaying in front of him as he stumbled, threatening to overbalance him as he fled into the darkness. Without a light, he could only pray that he was going in the right direction. Utter blackness surrounded him, the cool air blowing slightly, carrying the scents of the undercity, of ratkind, with it. Hope had just begun to light in the breast of Sleet. His paw on the rock, he continued into that void, seeking the tunnel which would lead him back to civilization. Coming around a bend in the tunnel, his eyes caught the briefest flicker. Was that a light, he wondered? Tucking an arm under his gravid belly, he continued. His eyes grew wide and a cry escaped from his throat to behold his lantern, still illuminated, laying on the ground. 

“It’s still lit,” he wept. “My lantern.”

Seizing the lantern in his paw, he raised the light up. The cheery glow spilled across the rough stone, bringing with it the hope of salvation. Sleet continued, making his way through the tunnels. His belly ached, his brood squirming within him, seeking to find their way out into the world. 

“Please, not now,” he whispered. “Not now.”

The tunnel was becoming a slope of loose rock, which Sleet began to ascend. His belly dragged on the stones, which bumping his stomach, set his unborn to lash out in fury. Sleet fell to his knees, agony blooming on his face as his belly bubbled below his fingertips. The lantern he set aside, his paws rubbing his swollen middle. On his hands and knees, his face the color of raw clay, he climbed. Threads of glimmering milk spattered in his wake from his gushing breasts, from the nipples on his stomach. 

“Just have to make it,” he whimpered. 

He could see the light now, the entrance to the tunnel. If only he could reach it. Sleet’s world had become a red mist of pain, his head swimming. 

“No,” he sobbed. “Please, not now.”

He dragged his gravid frame up the rocky slope, dislodging several stones to clatter behind him. His thoughts were only on his companions and the monster who held them in her fearsome, wonderful embrace. 

“I’m almost there,” Sleet groaned. 

His paw found purchase on a large rock and the rat dragged himself up, his belly sliding on the stones. Suddenly, a claw fell atop his paw and Sleet looked up into a horrific, red eye. A scream was ripped from the throat of the rat and the world seemed to spin before his eyes. He tumbled, blackness closing around him, swaddling him in its embrace as he fell into unconsciousness. 

[center]***[/center]

How long he was out, Sleet could not say, but when his eyes at last would open, he found himself not in the tunnels, but in a room of well polished stone. His belly thrust itself above his snout, but Sleet was astonished to find it covered by a fine, white sheet. He tried to roll over and realized then that he was in a bed. The crisp sheets were cool against his fur, his head resting on a pillow of soft down. His fur had been cleaned and smelled faintly of cedar and clove. 

“Ah, awake are we?” came a voice. 

Sleet turned, seeing a creature with a single, crimson eye standing in the doorway. He blinked, shaking his head as he beheld the stranger. It was no monster, but the masked priests who served the Underking. Garbed in robes of black, with a veil adorned with the red eye of the church over their faces, the silent priests attended to the spiritual matters of ratkind. The priest glided across the room, coming to the side of Sleet. Gently, he rested a hand on the rat’s swollen belly. Whatever expression the creature had beneath that mask would remain a mystery as the priest then spoke. 

“You were lucky to have been discovered in the tunnels,” he said. His voice was rich and velvety, soothing to Sleet. “Given the state that you were in.”

“I was fleeing,” said Sleet. His ears swiveled. “My friends! There are two more of us. It’s horrible. Someone has to return for them.”

The priest cocked his head to the side, his fingers gently sliding down Sleet’s lower belly. “Two more, you say?”

“Please.” Tears were in his eyes and Sleet’s voice was cracking into a sob. “You have to find them. She will do something awful to them, I just know it.”

The priest patted Sleet’s belly. “Hush now, you are safe here. You are taken care of.”

Sleet’s shoulders shook and his sobs could not be held back. The rat wept, his tears rolling down his cheeks. For all of his horror, the nightmare was at an end. But, what of the brood within him? What would become of him after the birth of the queen’s spawn?

“What will become of me now?” he asked. “I look like a breeder female.”

“You are going to be taken to the abbot,” said the priest. “He will know just what to do.”

The masked rodent rose and clapped his claws, summoning two more of the priests. Together, they lifted Sleet from the bed, half dragging him into the halls, leading him to the office of the abbot. 

“But, what of my friends?” Sleet asked. 

“They will be found,” answered one of the priests. 

The abbot was likewise masked, with a thick gold chain around his shoulders. Seeing the condition of Sleet, the rat placed his clawed fingers on the swollen belly, tenderly examining the gravid flesh, feeling the squirming of new life below his fingertips. 

“You say that you found the tomb of Queen Salathia?” the rat asked. 

“I did, at least it’s what Strukretch said,” replied Sleet. “We have to hurry.”

“Oh, we do indeed,” said the abbot. “Take him to the pit.”

“The pit?” squeaked Sleet. 

The pit was a reeking hole in the dirt floor of the lowest level of the church. Guttering torchlight wobbled on the bare stone walls, a noxious stench rising from the black mouth which descended into the abyss. From below, came the growls of creatures large and foul. Sleet hovered by the edge, his head spinning as he stared into oblivion. 

“I don’t understand,” he said. “What are you doing?”

“We have known of Queen Salathia for some time,” said the abbot. “We had merely been unable to find her tomb. We thank you, little rat.”

Sleet turned to face the masked rodent. The abbot reached up, removing the veil to reveal the grey fur, the red eyes and the curving horns which crowned his head. Sleet gave a thin cry, bringing his paws to his muzzle as he fell to his knees. One by one, the priests removed their masks, revealing the same horned features. 

“Our mother has long been lost to us,” intoned the abbot. “But, thanks to you, she is found.” He cupped Sleet’s chin with a pink fist, turning the rat’s face up to look into those same gleaming crimson eyes. “Rejoice, for you have served ratkind on this day.”

“W-What are you going to do to me?” whimpered Sleet.

The abbot smiled. “You will fulfill a new purpose.” His gaze wandered to Sleet’s swollen belly. “Mmm, and such a purpose it will be.”

With a rough shove, Sleet was cast down into the pit. Shrieking, he struck the stone, gasping in pain as his brood kicked out in protest. From the gloom, red eyes emerged. Muzzles dripping, leathery forms materialized from the darkness. Demonic rats, twisted like Queen Salathia, their throbbing members drooling shimmering precum as they claimed their prize. Sleet let out a scream that was stifled by a long, rough tongue slipping between his jaws. His buttocks split, his bloom opened wide to the hard, throbbing rod which entered him. Ballooning breasts leaked their precious milk to be suckled by black lips as the abbot cackled from the rim of the pit. 

“The Underking thank you,” he called down to the rat. “For you shall bear us the new generation of ratkind.”

But Sleet heard none of this. His mind had been long since blasted, given only to the raw sensations of lust and the sweet agony of coming birth. Claws quested across his maternal girth. His belly swelled, fattening with expansion as bony flesh slid along his shuddering rectum, filling him with a sensation of giddy jubilation. His nostrils puffing, he moaned deep in his chest as the hot gush of virile seed flowed into his hungering womb. Sleet surrendered as his belly began to churn, growing ever larger, ever riper. Lost to the world, he would continue that dreadful, yet so delicious cycle of pregnancy and birth. The rat closed his eyes, welcoming the dark, giving himself to the fate which had chosen him.

To be bred forevermore.