On his way to the city of Mekat, Dhryn had the fortune of being waylaid by the Skyspeaker tribe during their migration. The Skyspeakers were a large and influential herd of bison-like tauroi that lived a nomadic life on the plains of Wieg, divining omens and direction from winds and the clouds in the sky.

On approach, he was met by two large tauroi, an athletic older boy named Shimo who eagerly introduced himself, and a smaller, younger heifer named Jimo, who said little. Even though the pair were younger than Dhryn, the gnoll only stood up to their chest.

According to Shimo, the winds had guided Dhryn and the herd together. The skies had foretold that Dhryn was to stay with them for a time and bear witness to the birth of the matriarch’s calf. After witnessing such an event, Dhryn would forever be known to the herd as Biiwide – a guest.

The delivery itself took place on the windy open plains just after dawn. The sky was dark and menacing, with dark clouds obscuring the red spring sun. The new calf, a boy, arrived wrapped in its caul – a sign of good fortune. Unfortunately, the delivery itself was so long and gruelling that it seemed to take all the matriarch’s energy. The newborn bull was seemingly dead on arrival, with the mother slipping into a torpor shortly after as she succumbed to exhaustion, apparently joining her son on the other side of the veil.

The herd lowed in grief and turned their backs on mother and son, preparing to move along as was their tradition. But Dhryn knew better. He could feel the spirits lingering, teasing and testing him, and he knew it was not too late.

While the herd turned away, Dhryn approached the pair with desire in his heart.

The newborn calf was large and lifeless, still curled up in his pallid amniotic sac. Dhryn grabbed one of his hooves and lifted, watching the newborn’s flaccid penis jiggle slightly. “You don’t think I’m going to let you off that easy, do you?” he growled aloud, addressing the flitting spirits, an audience that could be felt but not seen. They demanded a spectacle, and the gnoll shaman intended to provide. He lifted the calf up by a leg and jostled the heavy, wet body up and down before pushing a clawed finger into the baby’s exposed tailhole. He could have sworn he felt the ring of muscle twitch around his digit and he smiled, knowing he could coax one of the spirits into the little bull’s body if he made a tempting enough offer.

Keeping his grip on the bull’s leg, Dhryn lifted him higher, dangling him upside-down and watching the swampy fluid drip from his mouth and nose. The gnoll’s amber eyes drew lines across the newborn’s naked body, from his slimy umbilical cord up to his sunken chest, to his tightly closed eyes and then back down to his soft, wet sheath and tight, round scrotum. He gave the calf’s floppy member a lick, then tightened his grip on the calf’s ankle as he jammed his finger further up his tailhole, curling to tickle against his tiny prostate.

The calf reacted strongly, kicking out its free leg and almost catching Dhryn in the chin as his entire body jerked. The gnoll could feel the baby’s anal ring clamp down on his knuckle, and he also felt the calf’s member throb against the roof of his mouth.

“That’s it,” Dhryn teased, pulling away for a moment and licking his lips. To his surprise he found the taste to his liking – a heady mix of salty, bitter, and earthy flavors that ignited his predatory instincts. He growled hungrily and slurped the calf’s nethers into his mouth – balls and all – and felt the newborn’s erection bob against his palate as he nibbled gently at his sheath. The calf gurgled, and Dhryn abruptly let him drop, hoping the sudden impact might force some air into his lungs, but no more sound came out.

“We’re getting there,” the gnoll teased, grinning wickedly, “but you’ve got to do more than that to convince me you’re ready to stay!” He pushed two fingers into the calf’s sloppy muzzle, swishing the mucus and fluid around before pulling out and jamming his thumb down the calf’s throat. The calf reacted almost violently, arching his back and trying to cough. Dhryn could feel the calf’s throat clenching around his thumb before a gob of viscous goo was forced up past his hand. His loins reacted just as strongly, the calf’s erection springing taut with a purplish tip peeking out from his sheath.

Dhryn pulled his slimy hand away from the calf’s muzzle and rolled him over onto his front, tearing parts of the caul that was still stuck to him. He hoped that more of the fluid would drain if he was face-down. He also got a face full of the boy’s hindquarters, his ropy tail still sticking to his buttocks and exposing his tailhole, still gaped from the gnoll’s earlier intrusion. It was glistening wet, still red, begging to be filled.

The spirits wanted him to continue.

The shaman normally wasn’t this intimate with the new male arrivals, but animal instinct was taking over, and his tongue gingerly probed the fresh hole. As soon as the delicate tip of Dhryn's tongue touched the smooth skin, he inserted it and felt the boy wobble and thrust himself backwards – as much as a newborn could – forcing himself further onto the gnoll’s muzzle. 

Dhryn's teeth bit down on his soft plump bottom and he dug his tongue around in circles, lifting the calf up by his buttocks and causing the most amazing sounds he had ever heard from a newborn. It was almost like a feral bovine blurting out, the sound of amnion spattering with each guttural bellow. He was edging dangerously close to predatory territory. His teeth slid along slick, short fur, digging in just enough to grip the newborn without actually breaking the skin. He was getting results, though, the new arrival gurgling and gasping in a great hurry to spew out the fluid that stopped his breath so he could join his herd on this side of the Veil.

After a few intense moments the baby arched his back again, letting out a strangled cry before going completely limp. The newborn’s shaft, now fully exposed and erect, continued to twitch after the rest of the calf’s motions had ceased. Dhryn was sure he had brought the boy to orgasm, but after the shudder of his frame died down, even though his glassy eyes seems to be open, his breath had stopped. Fluid still leaked from his mouth and nose, so the gnoll lifted him up again by the hips and continued to tongue-fuck him, dangling him just in front of his face as he sat on the cool ground.

Dhryn noticed the warm droplets landing on his crotch, trailing down his erection. In his devotion to the newborn calf he had neglected his own needs, and now it felt like the spirits were losing interest, threatening to leave the calf a soulless shell. He would need to redouble his efforts to convince them to stay. He continued his predatory actions by licking the calf clean, turning and twisting his limp body in the air in front of him and dangling him by his tail, his neck, and all of his limbs, watching his floppy dick bounce around as it slowly faded to a tiny flaccid member. The gnoll caught himself slobbering and drooling as he nipped and tasted the boy all over, until, lost in the throes of predatory ecstasy, he allowed the wet calf to slip out of his grip and onto his lap. He let out a yelp and looked down at the jumble of limbs in his lap. The newborn bull calf was flaccid and floppy – not just his member, but his entire body. His eyes were open but stared off into the sky, ignorant of the gnoll trying desperately to revive him. 

Dhryn knew what he had to do. 

The first thrust of Dhryn’s hips felt like he was peeling apart a set of sticky leaves, but the second one lubed the hole, and Dhryn felt the faint clamp of the calf’s anus around the tip of his shaft. He grabbed the calf by one leg and gripped his hip with the other hand before shoving his hips forward and into the newborn’s bowels.

The calf did nothing to resist the sudden, violent intrusion into his guts. He flopped against Dhryn’s torso like a bundle of wet furs, his tongue lolling out one side of his mouth, grey from lack of oxygen. Dhryn almost blew his load immediately, but he couldn’t let this piece of meat best him. He could be just as stubborn as this calf.  He rocked his hips back and forth. Slowly at first, and then faster and faster until he was bucking like a mad feral. The calf’s anal cavity was already lubed with amniotic fluid and now the gnoll’s own saliva and precum, so it felt like he was almost gliding back and forth.

With his cock still buried in the newborn calf, Dhryn grabbed the calf’s muzzle and leaned down to forcefully kiss him, sucking and then spitting out a long strand of fluid. He embraced the baby again, teeth grazing over his lips before the gnoll blew into his mouth, forcing his lungs to inflate before he bucked his hips up and forced the air back out. As he pushed his member further inside, he could feel the calf squeeze his shaft again, and he even kicked up his hooves once more. . . before voiding his bladder all over the gnoll’s thighs.

Despite the humiliation, Dhryn could tell that life was starting to return to the calf. One of the spirits was very near, seemingly considering whether to settle one this side of the veil or the other. He knew that the more he dominated the newborn, the closer the spirit got. So he decided to take things a few steps further. He pushed his nose into the newborn calf’s neck, giving it a predatory lick. “Do that again,” he whispered, “and I’ll do what gnolls do best.”

The circling spirit appeared to take the taunt as a challenge. The newborn calf’s entire body seized up again, and not only did he void the rest of his bladder onto the gnoll’s lap, but he coughed up a lungful of amniotic fluid right into the gnoll’s face before letting out his first stifled cry.

Dhryn spat the fluid back at the baby, baring his teeth. It felt like the spirits were taunting him, even though the fight for the calf’s life had been won, and a spirit had returned to his body. But after a final insult like that, the shaman felt no qualms about being a sore winner. As soon as the baby boy spurted to life Dhryn grabbed his neck in his jaws and pulled the newborn off his lap with his teeth with a slippery noise and slammed him to the ground, hot breath bending the grass around his neck. 

Dhryn felt the boy throbbing against his chest, his member dry-firing against the gnoll's coarse fur. He heard the piercing, staggered cry in his ear and he smiled. The boy's spirit had returned to his body. He won. And to the victor went spoils.

"Good boy," he praised, rising to his knees, his own member twitching with barely-restrained arousal. "But I'm not done with you yet." He grabbed his own member and jerked, quickly finishing himself off in a matter of seconds. 

Rope after steaming, gooey rope splattered the newborn, marking his erect shaft, belly, chest, and flat nose. The calf flinched and coughed, his chest starting to rise and fall with a steady rhythm, and Dhryn let out a sigh of relief. 

By now, the sounds of the newborn calf had drawn the attention of the rest of the herd, and Dhryn could see them slowly meandering back. Even the mother stirred groggily, the cries of her newborn reaching her ears.

Dhryn had done it – he had earned the title of Biiwide from the Skyspeakers, and perhaps more after seemingly bringing the matriarch and her son back from the dead.

Before handing the newborn cub over to his mother – cum-stained fur and all – he leaned down to whisper into the calf’s ear. “Behave,” he threatened, “or I’m coming back for you.”