Things were not as they should be. That was his first thought after packing up his simple camp and heading out into the woods proper. There was a disturbing lack of game, even the rabbits he almost never hunted by enjoyed watching. Not enough meat or decent prices for their tiny pelts.
	The largest clue was an inexplicable splash of blood against a tree trunk. The local large predators rarely bothered to drag away their kills and there was no sign of a body or scattered bones which were the hallmarks of their feeding. His  hackles rose and he fought to suppress a growl as his mind rapidly put the clues together. Someone else was hunting in HIS woods!
	Once he knew what was going on, finding further evidence wasn't hard. The tiny marks on tree trunks, the occasional booted track, branches broken in distinctly non-animal ways, all of them lead him towards an old fort. It had been abandoned for decades, maybe even centuries before he was even born, but now white smoke curled from holes in the ancient roof and the front entrance had been crudely replaced with a palisade of sharpened logs.
	Things were worse than he thought, one intruder alone couldn't have done this. The scale of confrontation  had just jumped massively. A little voice in his head contemplated finding a new forest, Skyrim was FULL of them after all. A new and much more dominant, in several ways, thought overpowered them. How DARE someone invade his territory? It was not made any softer by the first sight of his uninvited guests as their sentry came out onto a ramshackle wooden watch tower.
	It was a damned cat! Worse, it wasn't  even one of the small, graceful felines he too guilty pleasure from watching. Their motions were so fluid and always  feminine. These, on the other hand, were massive, brutish beasts like lions with over-grown tusk like canines  that went down below their upper lip. There were obviously the two legged cousins of the might saber cats that roamed the frozen wastes further north. He'd always heard they were brutal, barely civilized beasts of a people and he felt himself reaching for the bow slung across his back without realizing.
	He stopped himself for a moment. He'd never actually killed anyone before... intentionally. Sure, some fellow wolves may not have walked out of various bar fights and he hadn't cared enough to go back and check on them, but he hadn't wanted to murder them. On the other  hand, these were cats and not people. The dominating voice in his mind shushed his worries and he limbered up the fine hunting bow, knocking an arrow and lining up smoothly with the distant sentry.
	It was almost hilariously easy. Unlike most animals, they stood still. Their senses were dull and they didn't even notice the soft twang of the bow before a feathered shaft seemed to just appear in  their throat with a rush of crimson. The leather clad feline toppled like a felled tree and hilariously flipped over the barely functional guard rail around the tower  top to land majestically in a broken heap at the base. Apparently they did NOT always land on their feet.
	He struggled not to laugh at that. His humor had always been dark, but this was a new level  and it shocked him for a second before he watched the rest of the pack close in on the fallen cat. Pack, bah, that was hardly a title worth of the leather and fur clad rabble. Their attention was focused entirely around the body which made slipping around to the  unfortified side of the stone structure far  too easy. He understood why some of the creatures became man eaters and devoted themselves to hunting two legged prey.
	The first saber to move out of earshot took an arrow to the back of the skull. The next caught an intruder neatly through the chest as they came to explore the gentle thump only a falling feline can make. The last was smart enough to reach for its weapons, a second before a barb disappeared into its eye. Three bodies in under a minute. He'd never succeeded that well with wildlife. The  rush of adrenaline and surge of pride were a lovely drug before  his mind caught up with him. He'd completely forgotten the ancient tower itself. The plumes of smoke and flickering of light through cloudy glass told him there was almost no chance it was unoccupied so with another soft snark he collected himself and ventured inside.
	The idiots hadn't even bothered to lock the front door! The hinges were even oiled so it swung open easily and almost without a sound. This was apparently their lair. Bedrolls littered the floor, meat roasted over a nearby fireplace. Candles and lanterns dotted the tables and walls. He would have felt right at home if it wasn't for the overpowering, musty scent of cat. His hackles rose further and clawed fingers tightened rapidly around the grip of  his bow. This would not be allowed. And yet, the smell was having an unexpected effect. A deep, pleasant warm was settling  into his groin and starting  to become more and more distracting. Something about the entire situation was enticing and infuriating. It reminded him  of distant memories of his father, when the old drunk was still alive. Not that he could talk, he'd followed in the shaggy bastard's footsteps.
	That new directive in his head snapped him out of his reverie. This wasn't the time. Without thought a hand snapped out and grabbed a discarded ornate leather shield from the supplies left haphazardly near the empty bedrolls. Something urged him that an enclosed space like this was no place for a ranged weapon and he retrieved the iron club at his  belt he  used to finish wounded prey. It was hardly an imposing weapon, little more than a wooden haft banded in thick iron with a heavy head adored with small, shallow studs. All the better to rapidly put them out of their misery while leaving precious pelts intact.
	Almost in a daze he ascended the crumbling  stone staircase towards the upper floor  of the small tower and almost ran head  long into the largest feline  he'd encountered yet. This was no sorry, leather clad specimen made for stealth and cowering. This monstrous cat was taller  than  he was and even more broad which helped support a suit of simplistic iron armor. For a drunken hunting wolf, he was quite the beast with a strong, athletic build and hard muscle under thick, soft fur. This... thing was on an entirely other plane as it hefted an ax nearly its own height and made from heavy steel before bellowing something about “ending games” and charged forward.
	Ironically, this wasn't an unfamiliar situation. He'd dealt with dozens of feral wolves attempting the same trick  and even a bear  or utterly panicked buck on  rare  occasions. Instincts had  him treat this monster much like a bear and he waiting for it to commit  fully before ducking to the side, sliding under the swinging ax then bringing the club down brutally into the back of its knee. A dull, meaty CRACK filled the air  as the beast fell with a hilariously startled mew which morphed into a shuddering roar as its wounded knee slammed into the hard stone floor. This was far easier than warding off an angry bear long enough to make an escape.
	His confidence nearly killed him. Instead of using its hands for support, the saber twisted around, using the weight and momentum of its own ax to its advantage. It whistled sickly through the air on a path to bisect his pelvis. The strange new urges saved him in the end, arm moving  to bring the  leather  shield into place without hesitation. Polished steel bit deeply into layered animal hide... then stuck fast. He dropped the occupied shield and surged forward himself, slamming the club directly between the hell cat's eyes. Old wives tales were apparently true as instead of shattering its skull like it had many a feral fox or elk, it simply caused it to recoil with a meaty THWACK and deprived it utterly of its senses. It collapsed like a ham strung goat and let out a kittenish mewl that made him bark out with laughter as the great cat lost consciousness.
	As  the  adrenaline rush began to wear off he stared at his last attacker and  raised the club again. It wouldn't even be a challenge to kill it now. And yet, he  hesitated. The smell was so powerful and seemed to rise from the filthy  beast before him, occupying his senses and dulling the rage from before. Instead he began to feel curious and predatory in a different way. He'd never actually examined one of these things up close before. This one was helpless... what was the harm?
	Removing its bothersome metal shell proved simpler than he thought. His skinning knife ran through leather  straps like butter  and iron plating fell rapidly to the floor. The primitive thing hadn't even bothered to wear something underneath! It was bare to the cold Skyrim air now and he could fully indulge his curiosity.
	It's coloring was much like that of the more noble lions that were supposed to dwell in the planes and deserts. A deep gold that framed a cream white belly, highlighted with thicker, dark brown fur which he supposed was a sad attempt at impersonating a mane. It came to a point in the center of a wide, muscular chest then continued like the tiny stream winding from a water fall down hard abs before framing a small feline sheath and finally “dripping” from  the bottom of plump balls. It was a male! Well, he'd always assumed, but still, this was quite  the confirmation. He considered using the club again, but there was something strangely appealing about the sight. Before he realized  what he was doing, clawed fingers traced through the brown trail down the cat's belly.
	It  purred. The silly, barely living thing actually purred! He couldn't stop himself from laughing before more devious thoughts bubbled up from deep inside his mind like trapped air in one of the local hot springs. Fingers moved of their  own accord, this  time removing his own much more sensible leather armor. Unlike the beaten saber, he had a PROPER  mane, wild black hair that streamed down past his shoulders and had attracted the teasing fingers of more than a few bar maids looking for greater tips. His superiority filled him with pride and he continued comparisons further. He was far more lean and sleek than this sad excuse for a predator. Where it had gone to bulk, his muscle was tight and hard for speed while retaining force. It was obvious which approach was better.
	He seemed to blink  and find himself sitting between the saber lion's awkwardly spread legs, looking down and beginning to snicker. Like most cat's, it  was equipped with a tiny, compact sheath which showed  a narrow, pointed tip pink flesh. It was utterly pathetic and he couldn't help himself from reaching out to touch. The lion  was hot and slick and a curious flick of the finger caught hair  fine little barbs against his padded fingertip. Another old tale confirmed! How sad, their women must get off on pain.
	A furry eyebrow raised slowly as he watched its small shaft swell and  push free of its fuzz covered holster. The animal was actually enjoying this! Its body could still react even in its current state. He  continued toying with the emerging cock, squeezing and lightly twisting  at the tip as it grew rapidly under his ministrations. The snickering grew into laughter  at the result. This  poor animal, despite its great height, perhaps reached five  inches  in length and only had respectable thickness at the very base. His free hand casually gripped the base of his own shaft and was only mildly surprised  to find it steely hard as well. Unlike the cat, his was  humanoid and instead of a sheath it had a lovely coating of velvety grey fur which ended in a supple foreskin which allowed a fat and deep red  tip to just kiss the air. A soft push of its hips shoved it up against the little lionhood to cruelly demonstrate its over  double length and far more impressive girth. How could this two legged animal dare to call itself a male? Another foreign thought raced through his mind. If it couldn't qualify as a male then...
	A cruel grin split his handsome black muzzle, revealing glittering white teeth and strong canines  of an actually useful size. His hand stopped toying with the sad cat cocklet and moved around, stroking up the back of a strong  leg to feel the slightly rough texture of thick fur over corded muscle. This beast would need several good washes before its pelt would be worth more than a belt septim. He laughed off the  thought then stopped as his hand cupped a hard, well rounded rump. Fingertips dug into pliant skin, clawtips leaving small red lines as they scraped across. This was far different than the usual drunken trollops or village girls curious for a taste of the wild. But  the shape was deliciously similar and something about  the firmness set his tail to wagging. What logic he  had left was losing the battle  with his  new urges and the blood loss from filling his heavy cock. What could possibly be the harm in indulging himself with this new prey? Still, something told him it would hardly be satisfying this way. The solution  hit him like a lightning bolt and made him cackle like a hyena for a quick second.
	A hand disappeared into one of his belt pouches in the discarded  armor then came back with a small red vial. It was little more than a test  tube and sloshed with thick liquid inside. Even the shape made the situation perfect and his smile showed entirely too much fang as he deftly lifted heavy feline hips from the stone  floor. A quick bite divested the tube from its stopper. His tongue drug slowly over his lips while he stared down at the tiny, flexing  pink hole tucked under a slender lion tail and a shudder went down  his spine. A thick spurt of precum, something all canines produced in plenty, splashed  over fuzzy kitty balls to glitter in the torch light and make him groan. It took all of his focus to pull himself to the task at hand. The  broad mouth of the vial ground against the winking beast opening then ground insistently. Without its owner aware enough to struggle the resistance was light at best and he watched it delight as it spread lewdly  with tiny, shivering flexes. A flick of his wrist upended  the tiny bottle and poured the oily liquid inside the unconscious cat's body. To think, everyone  always criticized his crude home made potions. Flavor obviously wasn't going to be a factor this  time and the idea caused him to burst out laughing once more.
	As the healing draught rapidly absorbed inside its body, the cat woke with a start then mewled as the magical glass simply vanished once it was empty in  the  strange way the bottles always did. It left the poor creature confused, empty, and gaping with slick red liquid lazily drooling down the cleft of its powerful rear.
	“What in the hell do you think you're  doing?!” the great cat bellowed.
	The voice was short lived as he wrapped powerful hands  around  its throat and squeezed.
	“None of  that now. You're going to be a good little kitty if you don't want to be a coat” he said, a cruel snicker coloring his voice. 
	He watched in delight  as  rage filled large shining yellow eyes, a dim reflection of his own golden ones before defiance melted into submission and desperation as the creature's brain caught up to its own lack of air. The struggle barely began before the feline fell limp in surrender.
	“That's a good kitty. Don't want the big bad wolf to have to hurt you more, do you?” he said, grinning down at his prize.
	“I swear I'll ki... hurk!” the  cat struggled to get out. It was devoid of any real conviction and died with the slightest of squeezes from a real predator.
	“That's what I thought.”
	The animal didn't deign to reply so he decided to continue. For the first time it noticed the full extent of its position and he watched  in utter delight as those eyes bulged, almost threatening to escape their sockets. He even helped by pulling its head up to see the utterly massive length now rubbing insistently against a gold furred thigh. As he slid his hips forward the saber lion gave its best token resistance by reaching  down to fend the monster away from  its vulnerable  body. Its only reward was a bark of laughter and a hand grabbing its hips to cruelly jerk them  upward. For a long moment the cat was left completely exposed and helpless.
	Like a true hunter, he did not let such an opening pass him by. The lion barely had time  to mewl out a denial before his hips slammed forward, lifting it even higher from the cold stone floor. The looks of horror, denial, then utter defeat  chasing themselves over that gold furred face were almost better than the slicked, hot grip around his shaft, desperate to push him free but only making him snuggle in that much deeper.
	“Awe, is a real male too much for you to handle, puss?” he chided. The words got another  tiny flash of defiance which he melted away with a brutal thrust that shook the cat's body.
	“Hmm? What's this now? I can feel you poking  my belly, little girl” he almost laughed. 
The look of horror made his voice husky as he rubbed the little pointed lion shaft into the soft fur  of his belly, delighting in pointing out the weak trail of pre it left behind to stain his fur.
	“Has someone just been out here waiting for the big bad wolf?” he taunted  relentlessly. He thought he heard his prey demand he shut up.
	That would suit  him fine. The grin never left his face as he leaned his head forward, practically sitting on his heels as he  kept his body straight. The better to lift the helpless prey from the floor and keep it off balance. This  wasn't  some  pretty girl to pamper and toy with so he did not bother with niceties. Thrusts came hard and brutally fast, rocking  the strong golden body back and forth and making its owner mewl much like one of the feline whores he'd taken up on a dare. The thought made a particularly thick spurt of precum jet from his thick tip and splash hotly against  the helpless beasts prostate. The creature's entire  body trembled at that and he was delighted at the response. A few experimental pushes and probes let him hammer the blunt tip of his mighty pole against the swollen ball of tender flesh inside the cat.
	The way the lion writhed and mewled without thought made him shiver as well. He didnt even know when he started growling, his hackles rising fully and fur lifting along his spine. Only the saber could feel his much larger balls swelling and starting to lift. Perhaps fear or acceptance of what was to come caused it to let out submissive little sound like a mewl crossed with a roar as watery feline seed splattered over hard abs and clumped golden fur.
	“Haa... nnn... You really ARE a girl. I didn't even have to touch...” he stammered out.
	The animal was beyond caring but he wasn't and reveling  in his  superiority was just the last push he needed. The final thrust lifted the cat bodily and made it use its shoulders and neck for desperate support. He was so deep in  its yielding flesh he caused  a visible bulge in  its trim belly before he  gave in and  howled. The sound flooded the inside of the fort, just like the incredible amounts of steaming, gooey cum did to the now limp feline body.
	He wasn't sure how long he remained that way, holding the lion up and ensuring it took every single drop of his essence. Well, almost every one. A cruel whimsy made him slowly slide out, the wet friction drawing a few more spurts which he eagerly applied to the golden rear. He at least had the decency to drop the cat onto its back instead of its neck as it let out a series of soft mews like a lost kitten.
	He rested heavily back on stone wall, idly grabbing a bottle of mead from the saber's  possessions and chugging  greedily. Educating a beast in its place was thirsty work after all. His eye was drawn back to his new toy and he couldn't stop himself from smiling as it struggled onto its knees. The poor  thing was still dazed and confused. Something  about that sent another powerful tingle  down his spine all the way to the tip of his softening cock, rapidly reversing  that situation. Before it could recover he reached out and stroked down its back, petting it like the house cat it truly was. Unconsciously the lion arched into his caresses and he grinned before shoving it face down against the floor.
	A powerful hand kept the animal in place before he grasped the base of its tail and pulled upward. He delighted in the sight of its stretched, freely oozing opening and the splatter of his seed across the flexing cheeks. The  creature began to growl as he slipped over top of it, sitting heavily on the  backs of its thighs and nuzzling  his tip under that welcoming  tail again.
	“Shhhh. None  of that now, puss puss.” 
	The growling stopped. There was not even token resistance as he slipped himself deep inside the humiliated lion again.

(For those of you who haven't seen my recent journals, pictures to accompany this piece  can be found here. https://imgur.com/a/clJ3C7E check my imagur gallery for  the first two  parts of the story in article form!)