The young fox rolled onto his side with a strained grunt, seeking some respite from the clammy dampness of the stone which had served as his bed. His fur clung to his shivering body, soaked through by the ever present dribbling from the roof of the cave above. His ears swiveled back, catching the incessant drip, drip, drip from the limestone stalactites. Clawed fingers gingerly found the hollow of his collarbone, descending down to his tender, swollen breasts. The fox bit his lower lip, his heart beginning to pound as his fingers traced the bloated flesh. Where once there had been tightly compact muscle, now there filled his palm with sagging milk-heavy flesh. His nipple was erect, a black nub which dared to rise through the white forest of his chest fur. His areola, bumpy, now stretched across his jiggling breast, wide as a dinner plate. His fingers slid around the sensitive bud, flicking, shuddering at the sensation of fresh, warm milk which spilled freely down his pregnant belly. His belly? Indeed, the young fox’s once flat stomach was now gravid with the spawn of that which dwelled down in the stygian depths. He opened his eyes, blinking into the utter blackness of the void, through which eyes accustomed to the sun’s light could not hope to penetrate. The fox dipped his hand down, feeling the swell of his fetal girth. His belly was big enough to be six months pregnant with twins or more. His hand spread across his middle, the faint stirrings of new life bringing horror to the wretched creature. His unborn kicked, fluttering against his fingers, pressing against his flesh so that his belly boiled with the movements of the unholy fiend within him. “O-Oh,” the fox whimpered, his voice echoing into the darkness. His belly drooped, lowering further and further, marking the soon to come birth and the arrival of a new nightmare into this world. Pain racked his stomach, the clawing of his unborn ripping at his womb, pressing, searching. It quested ever lower, seeking a way out. His hips creaked, widening greater and greater, his body preparing for the birth. The young fox sobbed, tears streaming down his grimy cheeks. He brought his knees to his lower belly, hugging his arms around his shivering frame. “I want to go home,” he cried. “Home,” came a sweetly lilting voice from the gloom. “You are already home, my dear.” Terror seized his heart as the familiar touch of a long, scaly claw came to rest upon his shoulder. From the abyss came the glow of two eyes, red as coals, boring into his very soul. “Please, I-I just want to leave.” The fiend chuckled. “No, dear, you must stay.” She placed a claw on his ripe belly. The protests of his unborn lashed out, pummeling his kidneys, making the fox groan. “So lively,” the fiend said. “It will not be long now.” How had it come to this, the fox thought? Why him? Through the mounting pain of the coming contractions, the claws of his demonic spawn, through the mists of his memory came the bright day he had set forth from the village. The sun was high in the blue sky on that day so long ago. Had it been a year or perhaps it had only been days? He could no longer be certain, lost as he was in the dismal caverns of the old cave. “Where are you headed, Brightpaw?” called old Grimclaw. The grey fox smiled through a scruff of beard as the young fox trotted down the dirt path. “I’m headed for the old cave,” replied Brighpaw. He held in his black fist a torn sheet of yellowed parchment. “Look here, I found this old map.” “A map?” muttered the old fox. “Say now, you be careful with old maps, especially ones that are torn and ruined like that one.” He thrust a gnarled finger at the parchment. “You never know where that will actually lead.” But Brightpaw waved away the concerns of the old vulpine. “Bah, don’t be such a worrywart, old fox. Why, I just bet it leads to treasure, buried gold or even gems piled as high as your head.” His eyes fairly glittered right then as if they too were gems. “They say that in my grandpa’s day the village once chased something down deep into that forgotten cavern,” said Grimclaw. “There’s something lurking in that old cave that a young fox does not want to find. Maybe you should just forget that torn up old scrap and stay here, in the village. Why, I heard stout Oakpelt was in need of a few good young foxes to help bring in the harvest.” But Brightpaw had not heard the warning of the old fox. Having no interest in the humdrum of field work, he had struck off down the path, a song in his heart. Brightpaw thought only of the possibility of gold and jewels, of the merry adventures that young foxes so often dreamt about. If only the foolish young fox had listened instead to his elders. “Oh, I can’t wait to find what this map leads to,” he chuckled. What it had led to was a nightmare. The mouth of the old cave opened like a hungry, black maw, eagerly awaiting the young fox to enter. The stone green with lichen and algae, vegetation hung over the entrance like a shaggy beard. A strange breeze wafted forth, carrying the acrid stench of decomposition and the odor of mildew. Brightpaw gulped, and for an instant, the young fox thought about turning around. “Maybe this is a bad idea,” he said to himself. Shaking his head, he turned his gaze down on the old parchment clutched in his hand. “No,” he then said. “No, I must. Adventures are made in the doing and fortunes are won through trying.” He turned back to the cave mouth, steeling his courage. “Still though, I suppose it best not to venture unprepared.” He hunted around the opening for a large stick. Finding such a specimen, a sizable branch of maple, he then tore off a piece of his tunic and struck the head of his torch. Orange flames blazed to life, lighting his path into the darkness. Placing a paw to the stony opening, he took one hesitant step into the cave. Oily flames flickered against granite and limestone, doing little to chase away the gloom which pervaded every rock. Greasy smoke billowed from the torch he raised above his head, staining the ceiling with black soot. Carefully, Brightpaw crept deeper into the stygian abyss, his keen eyes wide, scanning the dim halo of orange light before him. “No treasure,” he whispered as if fearful that something would hear him. “Maybe just a little deeper.” Darkness lay before him, blacker than pitch, while behind him, the warmth of the sun had long since departed from sight. Brightpaw came to stop, pausing to examine the torn scrap of parchment he carried. “Let’s see, I should have come to fork right about now o-or was it back there at the left?” He looked about him, seeing nothing but the cold, grey stone reflected in the wobbling light of his sputtering torch. “Do I go right? Oh no.” Fear gripped the young fox’s heart, for he had realized that the map no longer showed any semblance to where he now stood. He turned, seeing the dark tunnel behind him, his heart leaping into his throat. “I’m lost,” he whimpered. His ears drooped to his shoulders. “Oh, now what do I do?” It was at that moment, he caught the faint scraping on stone, as if something were moving. Brightpaw whirled, flinging the torch out before him. “I-Is someone there?” His feeble shouts echoed down the tunnel, dying darkness ahead. The far off drip of water and his own panting breath were all that answered. He took a step, his bare paw slipping on the damp stone. His torch fell from his grasp, clattering onto the floor of the cave, the young fox sprawling to the slimy stone. The aroma of copper and the scent of ammonia filled the chamber, wafting in the stale air. “Oh my, did you hurt yourself?” came a soothing, lilting voice. Brightpaw scrambled to roll over, his eyes growing wide with horror. In the flickering glow of his ding torch he caught the glimpse of scaled flesh, a dull bronze like his mother’s tea kettle. Black claws, curved to a deadly point, tipped each long finger which was now reaching for him. But it was the eyes which held him entranced. Glowing red like the coals in his iron stove back home, those terrible orbs drank in his very soul, stealing his strength. Rendered speechless, the young fox could do nothing, helpless as he was to the horrific creature which was now descending upon him. His torch hissed, sputtered and died, leaving him in the dark, at the mercy of the beast which dwelled in that lightless abode. “Please, stay away,” he cried and tried to scamper from those reaching claws. But the creature was at home in the dark as much as Brightpaw was in the light of the sun. Those claws found him, seizing him with a terrible strength which made the young fox cry out. A leathery, scaly mouth nuzzled his lips, claiming his shrieking mouth for its own. “Hush now,” the voice whispered. Wet, hot breath blew on his cheek, carrying the scents of damp earth. “You are in the domain of Darkfang, little fox.” “D-Darkfang?” stammered Brightpaw. The name was familiar to him. Legends had spoken of the foreboding creature of the cave, but he, like so many young foxes, had believed it to be a myth. Just a story made up by the old villagers to spook the kits into behaving. But the beast which held him fast was certainly no myth. “Yes,” whispered Darkfang. “I am she, the queen of the cave. And you, little fox, are just what I was searching for.” Her lips came to his mouth, pressing into his lips, claiming him with a kiss which stole the breath from his lungs and made the heat bloom in his furry cheeks. Brightpaw gulped, his heart pounding, for not even the village girls had kissed him like that before. Darkfang’s tongue, long, slender and forked like that of a serpent, slithered along his fangs, seeking to explore the wet, warmth of his mouth. Brightpaw gripped the scaly wrists of the fiend, finding a strange delight in the supple movements of the taut corded muscles which danced just below the flesh. His jaw began to part and the tongue of Darkfang slid freely into his wanting mouth, swirling around his tongue, lapping at his fangs, caressing the red gums. Brightpaw moaned softly through his nose, finding himself growing slack in the arms of the beast. Carefully, Darkfang drew him into her embrace. Her belly, hard and muscular, sent a thrill up his spine. His clawed fingers gingerly glided up the ripples of her stomach, finding the first set of her soft, supple breasts. “Mmm, such a greedy boy,” she purred. “You seek my charms so readily?” Her tongue slithered back into his mouth, rubbing his palate, twining around his tongue. Brightpaw’s tongue darted between his teeth, plunging into the mouth of Darkfang, sliding around the thin, curved fangs of the beast. Meanwhile, his hands journeyed up her ribs, finding another set of ripe breasts. The nipples had become hard, the sensitive nubs erect, thrusting themselves into his palms. “Take them,” said the fiend. “For you know that you want them.” Brightpaw wagged his tail, for he did truly want to seize upon those ripe fruits, plucking their firm stems with his clever fingers. He tugged and twisted, the fiend whimpering in his arms, shuddering with a mounting ache to take the young fox. “Oh, my dear,” sighed Darkfang. “Yes, please. Give me more.” Brightpaw struck for her throat, claiming the scaly curve of her neck. His lips glided down into the oasis of her collarbone, filling that shallow pool to overflowing with his kisses. The foolish young fox had made a grave mistake in seeking the arms of Darkfang. The fiend churred softly, her voice a soothing lilt in his ears. Her claws slid down his back, slipping beneath the hem of his tunic. His buttocks were bare under his clothes, two firm globes of furry flesh which the creature was keen to seize upon. Her fingers sank into the meat of one cheek, prying the fox’s ass apart. Brightpaw let out a gasp when the chill air of the cave kissed his tight button. “What’s going on?” he cried. “Nothing at all, dear,” said the fiend. “Please, you must be eager to taste of my breast.” His momentary fears thus forgotten, Brightpaw’s lips wrapped around her nipple, his tongue coming alive. He swirled around the areola, her flesh tasting of a tangy copper. The fiend shuddered, trembling with desire. Her forked tongue ran across her lips, relishing the decadent pleasure which was to come. “My dear,” she said in a thick, syrupy voice. “Does my breast truly please you?” Brightpaw kissed her sagging tit, finding the scaly skin dry and strangely warm. “Yes, I do,” he said. “Your breast is truly wonderful. Why, I can say that no girl in the village could measure herself to you, Darkfang.” “Oh?” came the reply. Darkfang placed a hand to her breast, feeling an odd sense of delight wash through her. “Why, no one has ever said something so nice to me before.” “Then more’s their loss,” laughed the young fox. He plunged deep between the heaving mounds of the scaly feed, heedless to the growing danger which was throbbing between her powerful legs. Her cock, a massive rod of ebony and ribbed with bony protrusions, was quickly swelling with the hot need to pierce her unwary prey. Her balls churned, fat globes the size of cantaloupes, bursting with fertile seed. Brightpaw seized her lower breasts, kneading the soft flesh as if they were two lumps of fresh dough sitting ready in Mrs. Clovertail’s shop. The fiend hissed her pleasure, moaning above him, her desires growing hotter by the moment. His lips found her belly, the muscles quivering as he lowered himself. Lower, seeking the damp folds which dwelled between her legs. Darkfang placed her clawed hands upon his head, guiding him downward. There was no pubic hair to be found on her scaly body, but, the young fox was quick to discover that the cave fiend was possessed of an even greater surprise. Instead of the wet, dripping petals of a maiden’s flower, he discovered the rigid throb of an erect cock meeting his lips. Like a serpent, Darkfang’s member rose, that ribbed head prodding at his lips, begging the young fox to open his mouth wide. His cheeks bloomed and for an instant he lingered on her tip. The flesh was warm and taut, smooth as satin and pulsing gently against his mouth. Though he could not see it, an opalescent bead of fresh, pungent dew welled up from her gaping urethra. The young fox was horror struck. “W-What is that?” he said in what was almost a shriek. Panic surged in his breast and he made to rise, to fling himself away from the mysterious beast. Darkfang held him firm, refusing to let go. “That, young fox? Why, that is the holiest of treasures. Did you not come seeking the treasure of this cave?” She laughed, a rich, velvety tone which poured into his ear like a heady wine, making his head swim. “Well now, you have found it.” “I-I cannot,” said Brightpaw. The spell was breaking and fast. Terror once more took the place of his wanton lust. “I need to go.” “Go? Go where? Where can you go in the dark?” said Darkfang. “Stay here with me.” Her eyes glowed bright red, seeming to bore into his soul. “I-I…” the fox’s voice trailed off as he stared into those crimson orbs. “Stay with me,” she chanted. Her voice echoed all around him, seemingly to come from everywhere at once and yet, distinctly, the young fox felt the fiend within him, speaking directly into his mind. “Stay here. Reach out, touch it. Taste it. Kiss it,” she whispered. “Kiss it…” Brightpaw felt his throat constrict and his lips growing dry. He swallowed back the lump forming in his throat and reached for the throbbing pillar of the fiend. His mind screamed at him, shouting to escape, to flee from this terror. But, his hands would not listen, for they curled around that quivering rod of ebon flesh. The veins crawled up her cock like ivy, spiraling around the bony ribs which studded her shaft. The young fox, licking his lips, carefully traced those rigid knobs with a slender finger, his ring growing slack and wet in spite of his mounting trepidations. “O-Oh,” moaned the fiend. “Yes, dear one. Now, put your lips to my tip and kiss it.” Brightpaw descended, planting his lips on her weeping tip with a kiss which made the fiend shudder. The bitter tang of her leaking precum played across his tongue, making the heat surge in his cheeks and his heart hammer. His cock sprang to life, growing hard as his anus trembled with a need to plunge that throbbing rod deep into his hot, trembling core. His tongue slid from his lips like a fat, pink worm, swirling around her velvet tip, lapping the dew which wept so freely. Brightpaw’s eager hands began to stroke, fingers delighting in the rough bumpiness of her shaft. The fox wrapped his lips around the point of her ebon spear, the fiend of the cave quivering in anticipation. Brightpaw descended, plunging down her shaft, his lips delighting in the ribbing which studded her cock. His nose nuzzled the creature’s pubic bone, the scents of copper and a slight ammonia tang wafting into his nostrils, filling his head with the hints of her natural musk. “Mmm, wonderful,” that voice moaned from the darkness. The glowing embers of her eyes narrowed with the creature’s mirth. He pulled back, his lips tightening around her shaft, milking the strange beast, while his hands played with the fat orbs dangling from between her firm, strong thighs. Her balls hung as heavy as ripe fruit ready to burst. Brightpaw cupped each sphere, kneading them, squeezing ever so slightly. Darkfang trembled, the muscles of her legs quivering. Such gorgeous legs they must have been. The fox placed a palm on the inside of her thigh, relishing the smooth, soft skin, the way her scales felt in his hand as he slid down her leg. His mouth had reached her tip, his tongue slithering down the plump underside of her cock, licking the sticky syrup from her hot flesh. He grasped both thighs, wrapping his arms around her, plunging with reckless abandon to careen into her waiting pubic bone. Faster, harder, he could not relent. Despite everything that his brain told him, he could not pull himself from the fiend. “My goodness,” Darkfang purred. “You are a most eager little fox.” His mouth closed around her throbbing shaft, slurping the thick precum from her oozing tip. Darkfang moaned softly, her belly growing tight. The fiendish creature gripped Brightpaw’s furry cheeks, holding him in place, driving his lips into her pelvis so that her pulsing rod plunged down his throat. The young fox gave a start as thick, hot seed filled his mouth. His cheeks puffing, spurting strings of fresh ooze to run down the front of his tunic, he swallowed, gulping Darkfang’s pungent sludge with a desperate relish. The bitter taste of her semen flowed down the back of his throat, pooling into his belly. His stomach gurgled, wriggling with a satisfying fullness that compelled the fox to take hold of the fiend’s hanging fruits, to caress them in his paws, to delight in the richly pulsating veins which beat with the foul heart of the monster. His rapidly filling belly suddenly lurched and Brightpaw began to gag. Darkfang pulled back, a strand of sticky seed still clinging between them, dangling from Brightpaw’s lower lip. The young fox coughed, splattering loose semen down his ruined tunic. “Oh my,” the unseen creature said. “How simply dreadful. Why, to stain your fine clothes. Here now, allow me to remedy this.” She reached down, taking him in her claws. Those terrible hooked talons seized his tunic and with the ripping of fabric, his clothing was flung from his body. “Ah, so much better.” “O-Oh no,” the fox moaned. His voice came out in a slur, his tongue felt bloated, as if it had grown two sizes too big in his jaws. A dizziness swept over him, reminding of the time he had gotten into the jug of his father’s corn whiskey. “My tunic, it’s all torn and… and I… Mmm, I feel so strange.” His slender form was now fully bared before her. His slim waist and flat white belly stirred the creature. Darkfang slid her claw down his narrow chest, raking his fur. Brigthpaw uttered a content groan, his eyes growing heavy. “That’s it, little fox,” she whispered through the soft rasp of claws through fur. “You wish to give yourself to Darkfang? Yes, submit to me, little one.” Her fingers quested, the unseen beast lowering herself, seeking the swell of a hip, the compact muscle of the fox’s lean buttocks. Brightpaw fell backwards to lie upon the hard, clammy earth, his sleek legs raised above his head. The warmth in his stomach suffused his limbs, sapping the strength of his lithe, young body. The fiend placed her clawed fingers on his thighs, slowly spreading him, her great body falling atop the languid fox. Her breasts pressed into his chest, hardened nipples tracing the ripples of his stomach. “Your scales are so warm,” moaned the fox. His head spun, his face flushed scarlet. His fingers played down her muscular back. “So soft.” The fiend slid back, a wicked grin curling her mouth. Her lips coming to his chest, she glided along his pectoral, seeking the nub which dared to so brazenly poke its head above his white fur. Her long, forked tongue circled, lapping at the ripe bud, caressing his nipple while her hands gripped his hips. The fox let out a thin mewl, arching his back to offer himself fully to the beast. The creature of the cave, a monster chased so long ago into the darkness to be left forgotten, now claimed Brightpaw’s tender ass. Her fingers sank deep, parting those firm cheeks, laying his flower open to her. His anus was a puckered doughnut, a wet ring slack and ready, eager to be taken by her. Brightpaw whimpered in anticipation, his heart hammering with the mad lust brewing within his belly. The hot, wet breath of Darkfang blew gently on his trembling ring, compelling him to open himself. The young fox could do no less. His legs wide, he gave into the charms of the unseen beast. Her fingers played at his button, circling the puffy flesh, savoring the sweet tautness of his slender body. “Magnificent,” she muttered. “I wish to kiss it.” Her lips met his ring with such a very kiss as to steal the breath from his lungs. Brightpaw howled into the gloom, his voice ringing out on the surrounding stones, carrying off into the darkness. The scaly lips of Darkfang pressed harder, her tongue slithering around his anus, probing the slackening ring. His juices leaked with the sweet nectar of his desire, his belly was on fire. The fox’s addled mind screamed for him to push back, but his body had long since given into the tender ministrations of the monster. “O-Oh… Ah…” he moaned. That nimble forked tongue plummeted into his rectum, sliding down, striking his core, rubbing at his trembling prostate. The fox’s cock throbbed, a shimmering string of precum flowing down his shaft. The pungent odor drew the beast. Darkfang pulled back, sliding her tongue along his smooth rectum, plucking her lips from his anus. She rose to meet his cock, kissing the spongy tip, licking the salty, bitter tang of his leaking fluids. Like a fine wine, she let it play across her tongue, stoking the fires which raged within her ancient breast. “Ah yes,” she panted. “I feel it now. So long I have been alone. Now, my desires must be met and you, young fox, are to be the one I have chosen.” “I-I am?” asked Brightpaw, recovering his senses. “Um, chosen for what?” Her claws seized his hips with a terrifying strength. Brightpaw gave a yelp, feeling himself being lifted into the air. “W-What are you doing?” he cried. “I must,” hissed Darkfang. “I must breed.” Her tip came to caress the fox’s ring and Brightpaw became aware of the monster’s intent. He struggled, the spell lifted in a sobering moment of purest terror. “Wait, I can’t do this,” he screamed. He pounded feebly on her chest, his fists hardly noticeable to such a powerful creature. “But you will,” came the reply. “And you shall love it.” That rigid tip pressed harder into Brightpaw’s lowering body. His ring stretched, pain erupting in his lower belly. The fox wailed, his belly distending with the throbbing meat of the monster’s ebon rod. Those rigid nubs which ribbed her flesh rubbed against his rectum, waves of utter pleasure vying alongside stark terror in his brain. The creature bucked her hips, crashing into his core, slamming the fox’s prostate so that Brightpaw let his head fail back, a cry of jubilation on his lips. “Yes, that’s it,” hissed Darkfang. She pulled back, swirling, circling, thrusting once more, careening deep. Brightpaw’s face was crimson, sweat prickled his skin. He wrapped his arms around the scaly neck of the beast, his hot face buried into the coolness of her breasts. The creature lowered him to the floor of the cave, her great body on top, pinning him. The muscles of her stomach contracted against his furry belly like the waves of a gently undulating ocean. The sweet rhythm spurring a newly growing lust within the shrieking fox. Faster, she pumped, her cock striking like a hammer to the anvil of his wanting womb. His belly lurched, like worms crawling within his stomach. The fox swooned, his belly squirming, his body beginning to reshape itself. “Oh now, it only feels strange the first time,” Darfang whispered. “Soon, your precious womb will be ready.” “M-My womb? But, I don’t have a womb,” whimpered Brightpaw. This brought a chuckle from the beast. “You do now. Young foxes should take better heed of old maps.” Her cock crashed hard, pulling back. Never stopping, never slowing, she sat up on her knees. Carefully, she took Brightpaw by the legs, turning him, laying him on his belly so that ass was lifted to the air. She gripped his hips and came in harder, pumping faster, making the fox wail into the darkness. Pleasure racked his slim body, washing over him like a giddy tide. Brightpaw scrabbled over the clammy stone and packed earth, clawed fingers seeking anything with which to cling to lest he be swept out onto that dark, delicious sea. “O-Oh…” he groaned. “A-Ah, y-yes…” “Yes?” the monster laughed. “You love this? Oh, I knew that you would.” She bucked, her tip rubbing gently on his prostate. Brightpaw’s cock spurted a thin stream of precum onto the cave floor, his belly tightening as the breath was blasted from his aching lungs. With every fiber of his being he hated the creature, but his body had come alive, seeking to embrace her. He pushed back, his ass slamming into her pelvis, driving the monster deeper. With every thrust his lust only grew. His body was aflame, he could not relent. Beads of sweat poured down his face, dripping from his snout to patter to the pact earth beneath him, turning dirt and clay to mud which squelched between his grasping fingers. The wet slap of raw meat echoed all around them, driving both fox and fiend into a frenzy of desire. Groaning, wailing, they sought one another in the dark refuge below the earth. Shielded from the eyes of those above, Darkfang’s lips kissed the back of Brightpaw’s ear, caressing his neck so that the fox moaned. Her fingers glided down the supple curve of his back, her hips never ceasing. Smooth, forceful pumps thundered against the gates of his womb, battering the last of his weakened defenses. “Ah, young fox,” grunted the fiend. Hot precum spurted from her throbbing tip, a furious jet to splatter his quivering prostate. “I believe that the time has at last come.” Her cock erupted with a flood of hot, bubbling seed. Pouring down his rectum to be lapped up by his hungry womb, the monster pumped another ropy strand. The warmth flowed into his lower belly, his stomach beginning to swell with fresh expansion. The creature bucked her hips, pouring herself into him. Brightpaw gave a cry, his belly becoming so tight as to burst. Semen spurted from his battered flower, leaking down his inner thigh to mat the fur of his leg. Still, Darkfang would not stop. The monster gave of herself, more and more, pumping furiously, filling the young fox with the fertile essence she had carried for far, far too long. “Bear my seed, young fox,” she whispered. “Grow fat with my young, for that is what I wish.” She pulled her softening member free, allowing her seed to ooze from Brightpaw’s bruised anus. The young fox wept, his belly aching. He drew his legs up to his chest, clutching at his knees while the monster draped her arms around him. Her leathery lips kissed his neck, licking the hot tears from his cheeks. “Hush now,” she said. “No more of that. You have so much more to give.” “I just want to go home,” wept Brightpaw. “Silly fox,” the fiend laughed. “You are home.” A sharp pain stabbed Brightpaw in the gut, rousing him from his nightmarish ruminations. He opened his eyes, seeing nothing but darkness. Darkness and those hot coals which were the eyes of Darkfang, hovering just above him. His belly surged with new movement, tiny claws raking his innards. His anus widened, fluid gushing from his ass to slather the clammy stone in a slick amniotic prelude. Darkfang’s claws grasped his legs, spreading him wide, his hips, having grown so round and motherly, creaked in protest. His hands flew to his bubbling belly, tears streaking his cheeks. Pain, unholy and unceasing, tore through him, ripping a scream of agony from his throat. “It comes,” the monster hissed. “Push now, young fox. Bring my young to me.” His womb lurched, the life within him seeking the escape of his blooming flower. Claws probed his flesh, finding the narrow passage. Brightpaw shrieked, his anus stretching. His muscles pushed, drawing the beast down, forcing it to stretch him to the very limits of his flesh. “A-Ah!” Pain enveloped him in a red haze, threatening to consume him. His vision spun and the fox began to swoon. “I can’t,” he gasped through the contractions. “I can’t.” “You will,” Darkfang hissed. “You shall not deny me this moment, little fox.” Claws emerged, scraping on the stone, followed by the horrible head and the scaly body to follow. The infant squealed, splashing in a puddle of its own fluids, lashing out at the chill air of the cave. “At last,” cried the fiend. “How splendid it is.” She lifted the wailing infant, placing it in the arms of Brightpaw. The fox sobbed, wishing only to dash the monstrosity on the stone, but instead, he brought the little fiend to his ripe breast. Tiny lips suckled, drawing his flowing milk. Darkfang purred, her claw cupping his other breast, one finger flicking the milky nub. An electric thrill raced down the fox’s spine and his cock began to stir, despite the exertions of his recent birth. Though the pains of labor still throbbed in his flabby belly, yet the scaly flesh of Darkfang drew across his furry stomach, her breasts gliding along his fur, stoking a primal desire within him. His dripping anus gaped, slackened and ready, his body calling to the fiend, pleading to pierce him, to fill him with squirming new life. “No,” he sobbed. “Please, no.” His thighs were already spreading, opening to the fiend. Darkfang smiled in the darkness, her mouth unseen, but the gesture felt by the weeping fox. His inner thigh, she caressed, stroking the white which ran up into his belly, now stretched and limp, like an old leather sack. “Mmm, you care for the little one so well,” she moaned, a breathy sigh which whispered its tempting promise. “It pleases me so much.” Her lips met his with a kiss and Brightpaw would meet her kiss with his own, his tongue slipping between her fangs, rubbing the roof of her mouth. “That’s it,” she moaned. “Take your pleasure, dear one.” Her mouth traveled down his chin, tracing his throat to lie upon a ripe, swollen breast. Her tongue lapped the sweet milk, delighting in the richness of the young fox. “I wish to give you another,” the fiend said. “And after that, another as well.” Brightpaw hugged the grotesque infant to his breast, weeping softly. “Please, let me go. I won’t ever come back.” “No, young fox,” said Darkfand. She grasped his legs, stretching him wide. Her trembling cock pressed against his bloom. Revulsion and desire mixed within him as he felt her entering his rectum. “Little foxes should learn to heed their elders. Not all maps lead to treasures.” “I want to go home,” Brightpaw sobbed. “Little fox, I have already told you.” The demon took his hips in her hands. Brightpaw’s body offered no resistance as she began to thrust. Pumping deep, plunging into the depths of the fox’s waiting womb, she said, “You are home.”