Without a Trace.

Such a long day of excitement, between those false templar’s and watching a dragon fight, even having to use some of my own magic, this rest was a very welcome reprieve. We were all holed up in my old estate. One that I couldn’t remember but have been assured is still mine, the rooms dusty and unkempt after so long without a tenant. Flora was in my room while I washed up before bed, and I’d assigned a room for everyone else. The mansion was easily large enough for everyone. 

Still no pants on the tiger, but I was long since past the point of complaining whenever she offered such a lovely view. Last thing I saw her wearing wasn’t so much a shirt as it was a blanket. My blanket. On my bed.

As you might expect this left me eager to return.

Dark and cold, the house creaking as everything settles into stillness after sunset, candles left to simmer in a corner providing more atmosphere than actual light to see by. I walked the fancy decorated halls back to …

Huh … “Keith?” 

And there he was, the bastian ambassador wasn’t in his bed, he was at the foot of mine. Entirely naked. Even his socks were peeled away and draped into a pile on the floor, and his head was between Flora’s toes. I could still see slobber glossing the fur, as if he’d been what, kissing? Licking? His eyes wide in fear, his first thought must have been the obvious one.

“This isn’t what it looks like!” He spoke these words desperately, and like a fool expected that I should believe them. I could feel it.

“I was gone for less than two minutes, why did you even come in here!?” My voice was demanding. Resonating with authority. 

“T-trace …” Flora seemed more stunned by my sudden appearance than anything else. What was that fear in her eyes? No. Irrelevant. 

“Don’t worry I can explain!” he shot up onto two feet and looked down at his clothing.

He reached down to grab at his socks and for some reason was surprised that I stopped him. Black claws holding his wrists in a tight but fair grip, giving the lesser beast only as much as he deserved. The ambassador yowls in pain, a feeble attempt to pull away immediately followed by an even more feeble attempt to plead with just his eyes. One would hardly expect a diplomat to assume making faces of any sort would be comparable to actually answering the question. 

“Flora is my mate. MINE. Entirely mine.” I seethed through gritted teeth. “You have your room, a room that you don’t even own because this is MY house, all mine, all of its mine! Is this how you repay my mistake of hospitality Bastian?” 

“Repay your … what? No, this is nothing like that, I was just coming by to check up on …” he twitches, a weak tug on his arm. My grip held firm and my fingers tightened. 

“Coming to check on my wife, pregnant with my child, and the first thing you do is pull off all your clothes? What are you then going to tell me you tripped? Fell face-first into her foot pads? Don’t think I’m blind to what you freaks think is attractive.” My other arm reached up for his neck, lifting him off the ground. I could see him gasping, feel the weight of his breath beneath my fingertips. 

“Trace! Stop!” Flora shouted. There was fear, yes. But also a blush to her cheeks, a tint of red in the back of her ears. 

“Yo-your h-hurting … me …” Keith mutters as he dangles like a mewling puppy. There was some attempt at a kick, or at least I think that’s what he was trying to do. But naked as he was, I could also see what he kept hidden between his legs. See the excitement far more clearly than I could smell it. 

He was enjoying this, he must be. 

Yes …

I could see it in Flora too, beneath that fear. No, concern was it? Beneath that thin veneer of an outward expression she was excited too, lusting to see what would happen. To see just what I would do to defend my woman. Me, the most dangerous of Templars. 

“I’m about to do so much more than hurt you.” With those words Keith was thrown to the ground, blood on his neck and red dripping from his wrist. There was a slam, the door closing behind up? No, it was tendrils. Inky black magic, obeying my will even without me having to send a command. Honestly I didn’t feel it. So very easy to feel nothing and let this power handle things for itself. 

“Ggg- w-waitwait! GAURDS, ha-halmph!” He started to whine like the pathetic animal he was, finally showing his true colors. The noises stopped when I stomped on his face, blood dripping from his nose now. Eyes wide as he lay sprawled over a wooden floor. 

“Trace, this isn’t like you! Snap out of it!” Again the tigress pleads, leaning over the edge of my bed. A glare in her direction. 

“You brought this on yourself.” Both of them wanted something pleasing, a show of dominance. Oh they might try to say otherwise, but I could see the truth beneath their lies. They were enjoying this. It was so clear to me now. With Flora and Keith both naked, it was only fair I offer them the same show. 

Tearing, shredding, in mere seconds my clothing was gripped from all sides by jagged shadows and then pulled apart to reveal the pale skin beneath. Bare feet lift up and stomp down on Keith’s chest, knocking the wind from him. The beast wasn’t trying to fight back all that studiously of course, if he didn’t want this to happen he would have at least tried to stop me by now. 

“T-trace … please …” the Bastian begs. So weak. 

I proceeded to place my foot atop his ballsack, sliding his still very erect cock between my toes. The big toe slides up and down, gripping his member with my feet and pulling on it. Painfully? Well, not painfully enough obviously, he didn’t scream yet so this must be what sex is to him. 

My whole weight bears down, crushing over the top of his balls and smothering that cock between crusted human flesh and that filthy, mangy fur on the subhuman diplomat. I twist. Making sure to grind flesh against flesh, tugging hard only to discover his cock was indeed quite attatched to his nethers. 

“Aaaahhrghh!” he screams? No, we must cut that short.

No sooner than I’d considered my will did those tendrils of so very helpful darkness grab at flora’s socks and stuff one inside his maw. So easy while he’s screaming. First snakelike lines of blackness holding the jaw open, another maneuvering the wadded ball of old yet clean cloth atop his tongue. A banded loop of shadow curls around his muzzle, the scream cut off before it’d had really began. The final insult was when Flora’s other sock was draped over his muzzle from nose to cheeks, taste and smell of feet all in one convenient package. 

“Aren’t I so helpful?” Really this inferior creature should be thanking me, fulfilling his desires like the kind and generous Templar I am. Judging by his eyes it would appear he felt differently, but his erection spoke volumes louder. 

“Trace you have to stop this, please … if you don’t …” The tiger woman nagged in the background, but wasn’t moving to stop me. Obviously she must want me to continue. What fool uses words at a time when action solves things so much quicker? 

I dropped to my knees, sitting my bare thighs against his exposed chest. Black clawed hands grip at his wrists and pin them to the floor behind his head. I stared down at the bastian, right in the eyes, watching him struggle to breathe through padded socks and musty old sweat. He could feel my weight baring down, and I could feel his breath rising between my thighs. This, yeeeesss, this must be what power feels like. And now I hungered for more. 

“Hrmph!” he mumbled so pitifully, each breath filtered through a sock. 

It didn’t deserve much of an answer. I lifted his arms, forcing his paws over his chest and toward mine. I could feel the struggles, see his arms tense as he tries to break away. It was as if he barely tried.

“Give me a massage.” I hissed with a thinly veiled threat. His two palms, furry and padded, placed directly onto my crotch. I aimed his fingers, forcing him to hold it gently, smothering my cock in warmth. 

He balked in confusion, but my grin was insistent.

Flora was hardly saying anything, but the bastian’s eyes said it all. He hoped there was a way out of it, that this would be debt repaid. He started off slow, moving only as much as my grip allowed, and very quickly went into feeling over my balls. Sliding his soft pawpads up and down the length. I aimed one of his finders toward the tip and allowed him to poke at that most sensitive of bits. 

In the midst of my own pleasure I sling by feet forward and onto his face, my full weight now baring down and with the pathetic beast dealing with a smeared face, his ears shoved to each side and his eyes covered by unwashed human feet. I tapped by toes above his forehead just to showcase my utter dominance, offering a tap to make sure he kept pleasing me. 

One hand lets go of his palm and reaches back to grab at the ambassador’s cock, massaging him in return. Feeling that full erection, feeling the drops of sticky moisture as he’s already started to leak. Feeling the heat and the musk, just how sticky the furry thing’s member was this close. 

Using my feet I shoved his face to one side, knee raised and pressing down against his skull. He still kept working at my cock, desperation setting in. Panic. The mewling puppy still sought to please me, as if mere physical pleasure would turn away my wrath. 

“You’ve already had your fun. Now it’s time to sate my hunger.” 

He didn’t know what I meant. 

To be honest, neither did I really. It felt more like the shadows were talking. But the shadows were helpful, the shadows were powerful. In this moment it feels so very much like the shadows have the right idea. I hungered for power. 

I hungered for glory …

I hungered …

None of us realized that Keith’s head was in my mouth until after the muzzled meatsack was already screaming. Jaws spread wide enough to cover it, flat human teeth scraping awkwardly through the hair on his head, the fuzz under his chin. He tasted fluffy and earthy, a little bit like Flora and a lot like feet. My fault. I accept full responsibility for that one. 

His muzzle was down my throat in seconds, that unfortunate flavor of dirty sock going away in favor of the unnatural texture of dry cloth bulging the front of my neck. Keith was soft going down my maw, warm to the touch and smooth against my tongue. I swallowed again.

It was there I discovered he wriggly he was at that, paws still trapped between my legs while worthless meat was vanishing up to the shoulders. 

“Trace? TRACE! Ohmygod trace what are you doing?!” Flora’s voice caught my attention. The angles and contours of Keith’s face left distinct lumps in my neck all the way down to my chest, and the poor thing wasn’t able to move much with me sitting on him. My wife however, was biting her lip. I could see one hand already drawn back between her legs. I could see the moisture in my bedsheets.

She wasn’t stopping this for the same reason I wasn’t spitting him out.

Another gluck. If the bastian had thought to save himself now would be his last chance. The tops of his arms were enveloped by my spread lips, jaws and mouth wider than humanly possible, stretching out like elastic with only just enough give to shove a person through. He bucked and writhed, I could feel his gasping breath against my insides. And I could feel the supple ease with which he slid down.

Standing to my feet but keeping his arms bound, the next swallow had him up to his elbows.

He tried claws, scraping jagged claws against bare flesh. The skin tore, there was the hint of fresh blood as I suffered a minor scrape.

And then with another swallow he couldn’t use his hands, pressed tight within packed flesh.

I supported his legs, lifting him up over my head and allowing gravity to do the rest. His face splats into my midsection and that elongated weight of bastian meat shoved down. For a moment I felt the need to pee, so much pressure on my intestines from above, but that wasn’t going to stop me from taking the rest of him in. Down the hips go, his kicking becomes panicked and flailing. Down go the knees, all he can do is stretch out my lower jaw and wiggle the toes around.

Down goes the feet, and suddenly he’s vanished entirely, for all the world he’s little more than a bulge in my gut and the meat for my dinner. 

One final swallow. The trace of his toes easing past my chin, still twitching as it winds down the throat. Packed in tight once it gets past the chest, Keith’s knees forced into his own face as that so very limited space relegated this furry lunchmeat to a cramped fetal position. 

“I’m eating dinner.” I replied to Flora at long last. Smacking my lip, black clawed hands coming up to feel my throat and chest. To massage onto my midsection, a rounded bloat with a roughly humanoid shape jutting the stretchy pink walls. He twitched, but wasn’t really able to struggle at this point. 

“Y-you … Trace, you just ate Keith.” She said this so matter of factly … 
“I don’t see you complaining.” My response was as succinct as it needed to be, and punctuated by a belch. “Now come here girl. I’m going to show you how much I love you.” 

She backed away, not so much moving to escape as making room for me on the bed. Her own tummy bloated and round, if it kicked then there was a remarkably similar yet entirely different reason for it. I stalked forward, knees over the bedside, advancing onto Flora until we were neck and neck together. My stomach smothering against hers, my arms clawing into the bed sheets on either side of her. 

I could see the way she gaped, maw half parted and lips hanging down.

I moved in to kiss. And she kissed me back.

Tongues invading, my own reward the sweet taste of the woman I love, and her feeling the bland flavor of naked bastian and mild sock fabric. She didn’t pull away. 

Keith was screaming inside, obviously the acids were already starting to get to him. He stretched his legs, elbows making an elongated point out past my side before snapping back into place. There was the outline of his head, the ears and muzzle shoving hard to spread past my ribs, but it all smothered back into that tightly packed ball without my having to so much as flex.

I kissed Flora again. The meal was inconsequential, and by the time I’ve finished making Flora scream my name he probably wouldn’t even be conscious.

Laying down atop her the partial weight of two full sized men helped pin Flora to the bed, my stomach bulging out into her chest, sometimes Keith’s head would stretch downward and mash into her thighs. But I was already naked. Flora was already in bed with no pants. And unlike Keith I still hadn’t gotten off.

“G-g-oooohh!” was the woman’s first reply beyond the feline mrowling. She felt warm and slippery, my own shaft plunging in without effort. Hips pumping forward and back as the plumed cock rubs against the very seat of her womanly form. The bastian meat was thrown forward and back, squashed between two lovers and feeling the clench whenever we embraced. Forced to feel the acids splash around to soak clean through his fur. 

He wasn’t moving much to begin with. Well, I should say he was trying to move constantly, but pinned inside that gullet without a scrap of leverage meant he was deadlifting with every pull or shove of his muscles, while coated in a burning caustic slime. 

Another Kiss from Flora. 

“A-again trace, ohgodyes can you eat someone e-else?” her eyes were wide, bright amber pearls staring up into my blue pupils. She was excited. She was still in head. And nothing was going to stop us from satisfying each other.

“Anything for you, my love.” I had to stifle down a burp, for the desire to not be crude into my wife’s face. Keith seemed to take particularly violent umbrage at this statement, but whatever words he was trying to lease weren’t worth the effort to pay attention to. Meat is meat. Even an inferior bastian should know this simple fact. 

The bed rocked with our passion, violent thrusts impaling her crotch, and she in turn leaned her head past my cheeks to nipple at the ears. Then my neck. Then my shoulders.  Those sharp fangs always finding some purchase to bite onto that wasn’t her own lip. 

On at least one attempt at a kiss she ended up biting my lips. Something to laugh about. 

Within minutes I could already feel it, the way Keith had gone from hard to lumpy, the way he made sloshing sounds with each thrust or bounce as if a mass of melted liquid was splashing around. Flora presses one hand onto the side of my belly and it squishes right through, mashing aside Keith’s flesh as easily as dough.

Neither of us stop, be it the human and tigress or the dying screams of a panicked ambassador. He might have had diplomatic immunity. In the right situation he could have even been given the chance to show documents proving such. In this scenario he was lucky the papers weren’t devoured alongside the bastian. 

One final squeeze, everything tightens in the both of us, Flora’s abdomen squeezing around my cock and yet my balls felt like lightning struck the bottom and was trying to escape through my tip. A squirt from the both of us, sudden convulsion that spread my seed inside her, and she responded in kind with a messy squirt that coated my crotch in warmth. 

I remembered a belch as I pulled out. I could remember one final kiss before laying on her side in exhaustion, the sobbing moans of Keith weighing down my midsection. There was faint memory of Flora whispering into my ear as she rolls forward to spoon. One paw flopping down atop that distended gut, content to feel every squeeze and clench as Keith was melted down through the night.

We slept. And we slept peacefully.

I woke up full and rested, spotting Flora still in bed, clothes piled around the room, and the scent of sex was palpable. The tigress slept. 

Daylight trickled in through the nearest window.

I thought about putting clothes on, but instead simply headed to the nearest bathroom. Right down the hall and around one corner, no one would care if I walked nude through my own house. 

For a while I wasn’t exactly sure if what happened last night was a dream or a prophesy or some strange fantasy.

For a short while I simply sat above the toilet, releasing one long coiled log, spreading so far I felt it might have been endless. 

I stood up to wipe, tossing the paper amongst a mucky brown mess of human shit, smooth and featureless without a trace of Keith left remaining. 

If I looked closely enough I might …

Are those socks?

A flush of the commode, a shake of my head. No one ever got the chance to look that close. And as far as the delegation from bastian lands was concerned, their ambassador had disappeared without a trace.