	The shaman licked his lips noisily at the offering, be it intentional or not. Such a tantalizing sight, the unblemished female puppy already almost hanging in his lap, both mother and daughter begging for satisfaction. He dragged a finger from below the warhound's thighs and up across the unborn female's genitalia, watching her tiny legs kick as he did so. He didn't see a cord, and she was clearly reacting to his touch – the gnoll concluded that she wasn't in any danger, yet. He held his glistening finger up to his remaining disciple before sticking it in his mouth, his eyes closing in bliss as the sweet, earthy scent of both mother and child quickly overwhelmed him.
	A soft whine disturbed him, followed quickly by a feline snarl and a burst of quiet, nervous laughter. The gnoll looked over to see one of the male adolescents wiping a rope of warhound cum from his whiskers, a thick, red puppyknot clenched in his other hand. 
	The gnoll smiled as he watched his lone, prepubescent disciple take in the spectacle with wide eyes. The teenaged lion in front of him had just finished masturbating a newborn warhound. The kennel-master's apprentice was busy 'nursing' another on his right, and his friend was busy pounding away at another, just out of sight. And then there was the gnollish stranger, a low, filthy creature, or so he had been taught. Yet here he was, the centre of attention, even given permission to touch the tribe's most sacred charge, and more . . .
	“Good girl,” the gnoll cooed softly. The warhound was getting antsy, her back leg twitching periodically as the shaman molested her half-born pup. She was clearly fighting her way through a contraction, although whether she was fighting to keep her pup in or push her out was unclear.
	The pubescent lion cradled the satisfied newborn canine in his arms like his own kin, presenting him first to his mother and then gently setting him down at one of her many swollen teats. He latched on eagerly, noisily suckling as his mother nosed him, introducing herself.
	A distinct feline yowl was heard off to the side from the kennel-master's apprentice. Apparently, the 'nursing' pup had found quite the sweet spot, and was currently driving the teenaged leonin absolutely wild. He had latched on to the male's barbed tip, a guiding hand on his head keeping him from attempting to use those sharp little teeth to coax the 'milk' from him.
	All the while, the mother wolfess rocked gently, one of her daughters currently losing her virginity to a leonin boy-cub scarcely a head taller than his feral partner. It would be almost criminal not to have those two paired off, Dhryn thought to himself. The cub's eyes were closed in bliss as the two surrendered to young lust. The pup seemed slightly less aware of her surroundings than her lover, as her eyes were still tightly shut. That would be even better for their relationship – she already knew him by touch, and his face would likely be the first thing she saw.
	Another sharp cry carried above the commotion of the crowd. The 'nursing' pup's persistence had paid off quite nicely,  and he was eagerly gulping down mouthful after mouthful of male-milk from his handler, his nostrils flaring as his muzzle was firmly guided down, engulfing his barbed cock. If the face of the apprentice kennel-master was any indication, that was one trick the newborn hound would be taught repeatedly!
	The gnoll continued to molest the newest arrival – if it would be proper to call her that, she hadn't exactly arrived yet! With one hand firmly planted on the warhound's rump, he rubbed his finger between the genitalia of the two females, aiming to stimulate them both at the same time. The half-born continued to kick rhythmically, one leg twitching with each pass of Dhryn's delicate digits. She was already quite slick from the gooey sac that still clung to her midsection, and after a few moments of rubbing he was able to gently work a finger inside her puny folds.
	The pup bucked her hips, clearly feeling his entry as her hymen was torn away. The shaman pulled his finger out, showing the child beside him the slick arousal mixed with a small streak of red. 
	“I have claimed her in body,” he told him, “But not yet in spirit. Watch: now I will take her feyrn.” 
	He replaced his finger inside the half-born pup's folds, using his other hand to hold her in place, stimulating her mother with a wandering finger. The large beast reacted instantly to his touch, likely still riding a residual high from her last explosive orgasm.
	A whine broke his concentration, a sound that was quickly followed by a sharp, high-pitched yelp from the gnoll's left. The lucky leonin-kitten was pounding wildly into his four-legged lover as his immature cock throbbed inside her, apparently claiming both her virginity and feyrn at once. 
	“If they were of gnollish blood,” Dhryn said softly, nudging the child beside him and pointing,  “The two of them would be life-bound. The hound could belong to no one else.” The puppy-whining continued, the newborn female's mouth hanging open as her two-legged partner continued to plow into her. The leonin-boy frowned, his eyes quickly glancing at the other newborn female curled up beside the large gnoll before looking back at him, anxiously. 
	“Not yet,” the shaman replied, seeing his discontent. 
	The mother warhound strained again, her mouth hanging open as another contraction rippled though her. Dhryn hummed in awe as her muscular rump tensed and flexed, his fingers still slipping in and out of her cunt. He was doing his best to make her powerful contractions less painful, and judging by the way her plush folds gripped and flexed around his digits, he was doing a very, very good job – the gnoll had lost count of how many orgasms he had given her during what would have otherwise been an incredibly painful experience.
	“Good girl,” the shaman cooed, patting her rump, keeping a finger inside her breeched pup. He continued fingering her, making a sort of 'beckoning gesture inside her feral lips, smiling as she kicked with each curl of his claws. She was getting close, soon the shaman would be able to complete the ritual. He turned the pup sideways, lining her body up with his own. Given the size of her siblings, Dhryn figured that she would be able to accommodate enough of him. With a soft, slick squelch, he found out he was right. A harsh whisper ran through the crowd as he penetrated the little half-born, but the gnoll didn't care. He was busy.
	The lion child peeked out from behind the warhound's flank, the sleepy, squirmy pup slung over his shoulder as turned toward the gnoll for instructions, quickly blushing and turning to the kennel-master instead. The adult pointed to the warhound's underbelly, where the other pups were suckling noisily.
	The other boy rose, his attention diverted. “You had your turn,” he said sternly, at least as sternly as a preteen could muster. “Now share!”
	The other boy, having already had his fun, didn't seem to see much of an issue dumping the heavy pup onto someone else. “You need to let her nurse,” he said as he heaved the newborn puppy off of his shoulder and into his arms, “The trainer said.” Both cubs were quite erect – one frustrated, the other quite satisfied, the arousal of both him and his four-legged partner dripping onto the ground.
	The other cub opened his arms, ready to receive the sticky bundle. “How did it feel?”
	“Really weird,” came the reply, “It felt . . .good, and then my whole body started tingling, I couldn't stop.”
	The squirming bundle was placed beside her siblings at her mother's breast, the cub holding on to a leg and keeping her on her side. Her thighs were matted with white, sticky goop, and whatever it was looked like it had filled her inside, too.
	How hard could it be, the boy-cub thought as he glanced down at his puny erection. The other boy certainly seemed to have had fun, and the newborn certainly wasn't going anywhere. The visitor didn't mind, and both warchief and kennel-master seemed rather nonchalant about the events going on around them.  He rolled the newborn pup over on its side and crouched down beside her, making sure she was still able to suckle and feed before awkwardly clambering over top of her, pressing in with his hips until he found her used, sloppy vent. There was a slight hesitation, a quick roll of his hips, a sharp gasp, and he was in.
	Dhryn, unlike his eager 'student', was having a more difficult time fitting inside his target. His fat head stretched her lips, his large cock fighting for every bit of space inside her tiny body, whereas his student was already hilting himself inside the nursing pup, pounding away with wild, sloppy abandon. Unlike his partner, however, the adult shaman had been teasing his quarry for long enough that it wouldn't take much to tip her over the edge. He rocked his hips up into what little room he had, taking short, swift strokes inside her, groaning as her slippery body squirmed in his hands. She kicked her feet with every thrust, trying to kick herself closer to the source of the strange, wonderful feeling. 
	A low growl was heard over the din of ecstasy, and the shaman saw the tell-tail signs of another contraction – a strong one.
	“Not yet,” he protested as the pup was pushed further down onto his cock, “Not yet!” But the slick pup slipped out of his hands, the gnoll's feeble grip no match for the warhound's maternal strength. The puppy's entire body clenched and released as she was born, a soprano howl leaving her lips quickly as the gnoll took her in his arms, holding her close to his chest as he felt her shudder in rhythm.
	“It is done,” the shaman announced, looking down at the bead of puppycum leaking from his newborn lover. There was no applause from the crowd of maned men, for most of them were too stunned to react. What had they just seen? And what was one of their cubs still doing inside a newborn warhound?
	But there was still one more deed the shaman needed to accomplish. He bit the pup's umbilical cord in two, placing her down by her siblings. The warhound panted heavily, but was looking like her task was finally finished. No kicks came from her belly, and a quick examination by the shaman revealed a distinct absence of pups in her birth canal. A harsh growl indicated that the panted hound had had quite enough of gnollish meddling, her instincts perhaps leading her to the same conclusion. The shaman merely chuckled. It wasn't like she was going to turn around and take his head off. Not after what he had just done for her.
	A series of sharp, feline yelp carried above the crowd as the second of Dhryn's students came, hard, inside his younger feral partner. In a roundabout way, the little newborn had already claimed two males, according to gnollish tradition, before even opening her eyes! She hardly even moved from her teat!
	Dhryn's gaze turned to the firstborn, still lying on her side beside him, sleepily trying to crawl around on her stomach. Gnollish seed caked her rear end. Had the shaman not been interrupted so suddenly . . . He shook his head. He had a chance now, a chance to finally introduce himself to the massive canine mother. He took the heavy pup in both arms, cradling it like a small gnoll-pup, and slowly rose to his feet, walking into the sacred beast's vision. To his surprise, she barked harshly, eyes narrowed and ears pinned back. The kennel-master calmed her with a firm hand on her scruff, but a low, menacing growl still carried through. Dhryn frowned, turning to the warchief for an explanation. She had been so . . .accepting earlier!
	“For all your deeds, you are still an outsider,” the warchief reminded him, stepping closer. He was starkly erect, the red markings on and around his groin matching those on the hound herself. “And she doesn't like outsiders. Now that her pain is over, she tolerates none except those who carry my mark.”
	Dhryn waited, unsatisfied with this news. He had never met a living creature so . . .blind as to refuse the company of a shaman. He kept his thoughts to himself, though, remembering the company he kept.
	“But,” the lion continued, a hand moving to his member, “I feel that my mark is the very least I can share with you for your accomplishments. Step forward.”
	The shaman did as asked, bending to kneel before a tap on the shoulder from one of the warrior escorts corrected him. The lion chieftain took a single finger, slowly running it along the bottom of his shaft, a glistening drop of precum collecting at his tip. He collected it and then reached toward his guest, anointing the erect gnollmeat with his own seed, drawing his finger down its length just as he did his own. Dhryn looked around, seeing a few nods of approval, even a jealous scowl or two from the crowd. He turned, noticing that the canine's gaze hadn't left him. She was watching the whole time, tracing his every move, watching a filthy outsider parade around with one of her offspring.
	The warchief then went a step further, milking out another, larger droplet in his hand, cupping the foreigner’s fertile sac, rubbing his scent deep into his most intimate area. 
	“She shall know you for life,” the lion announced, gesturing to the new mother, “Show her.” 
	The shaman approached again, and the kennel-master released his grip on the canine's neck. He half-expected the hound to charge, but she was far too busy nursing her pups to move much more than an inch or two. She narrowed her eyes, sniffing the air, her nose leading straight between the gnoll's legs, just like she did before. She seemed to recognize something, at least – she gingerly licked the presented part, cleaning the variety of fluids off his member with slow, controlled tongue-strokes. The shaman groaned with pleasure upon feeling the massive predator's gentle side, wondering how exactly the lions had trained her in such a manner!
	The painted bitch-hound leaned forward, easily taking the gnoll's entire length inside her jaw, swirling her broad tongue around, cleaning every inch of his sensitive member with motherly precision. Dhryn put a hand on her head, more for support than guidance, and kept the newborn cradled in the crook of his arm. It soon became very obvious that the warhound was interested in doing much more than cleaning the shaman – when she could find no more of the sweet, sticky sap around his girth she began lapping at the sensitive underside, clearly well aware of where she could find more! Dhryn groaned again, leaning over as supporting himself became harder and harder. The warhound was well-trained indeed, and it wasn't long before she was rewarded accordingly, the gnoll's sticky seed flooding her mouth in thick plentiful ropes, the pent-up shaman finally able to release. He howled in pleasure as he more or less collapsed on top of her, nearly dropping the newborn. 
	Dhryn sank with a heavy breath, collapsing onto his rear as the warhound licked her chops noisily, seemingly pleased with how quickly she was rewarded with a sticky treat. Dhryn merely smiled, moving the canine's firstborn from his arm to between his legs, belly up. “One more treat,” he said softly as the great hound's nose twitched. The same substance that pasted her maw only moments ago seemed to be covering her newborn as well! She leaned in close to lick her little girl clean, and the shaman opened her hind legs wide to accommodate her mother's fat tongue.
	“Good girl,” he said softly as the newborn squirmed in his arms, “your daughter's feyrn belongs to you now . . .take it!” 
	Although her ears perked at his hushed words, the warhound paid the shaman no mind. She was focused entirely on cleaning her daughter, her large tongue lapping eagerly at her puny nethers. The newborn squirmed, wriggling her front legs as her mother's tongue explored her shallow depths, her tunnel filling with female arousal just as quickly as the gnoll's seed was cleared away.
	The shaman stifled a giggle, watching the mother's tongue cake with white paste as she 'cleaned' her daughter vigorously. “Such a good girl,” he cooed, feeling the tiny body shudder and shake, her head rocking side to side. He had no doubt that any trace of his seed had been removed already, but the hound seemed to gobble up the arousal of her daughter just as greedily. The newborn whimpered and bayed as her body suddenly shook violently, her mother apparently knowing exactly the right spot to hit. 'Well-trained' indeed.
	She licked her chops again, nosing and nuzzling her daughter towards her teats as the spotted shaman rose from his seat. All parties seemed exhausted, and the painted hound was now proud mother to five large, healthy puppies – two males and three females – none of which would have survived if not for the gnoll's unique method of midwifery. 
	“Praise you,” The warchief announced, “I never imagined your kind capable of such a feat. You have exceeded my every expectation, and clearly your reputation is well-deserved.” 
	Dhryn merely bowed humbly. “We are not as different as we once thought, it appears,” he offered, “I would be glad to offer any further assistance, should the need arise.”
	“The sun grows cold, and the walk home is long indeed. “You are welcome if you wish to stay, we can provide food, water, any comfort you desire . . .”
	The gnoll shook his spotted head. “Your offer moves me,” he replied, bowing his head, “But my people need me as well. Farewell, mighty king,” he announced, turning to the warhound as he turned to leave. “And farewell to you as well, great mother.”
