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Firestick finds religion.[/i]\n\nIf you'd like to read more like this before it gets posted publicly, head over to [url=https://subscribestar.adult/limewah]my Subscribestar![/url]\n\n-----\n\n[url=http://www.postybirb.com]Posted using PostyBirb[/url]", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Clayton Firestick finds religion.

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Posted using PostyBirb", "writing": "Transcendent Scent\nBy Limewah\nSubscriber Reward for Flarfenarfle (June 2024)\n18+\n\n\nClayton thought he could smell something… a bit off. More than a bit, in fact. It smelled like a skunk had died after eating too much marzipan, and their corpse had been lit on fire.\nThe scent wafted into the room in hot pursuit of the staggering lamb girl. It was probably caked into her wool. \nWithout looking up from the letter he was writing with an ink-tipped claw, the fiery-furred fox waved his hand, his fingertips sparkled, and the scent dissipated; at least, it did for a moment. But his sensitive nose could tell there was definitely more of it to come.\n“Someone to see you, Sir…” the lamb mumbled.\nThat got Clayton to look up from his work.\nHe wasn’t expecting visitors. Nor was he expecting to see the lamb so dishevelled. Or to see her eyes so dilated, to the point where her eyes were opaque black. She coughed once, and a little plume of smoke slipped from the corners of her mouth.\n\n…Smoking on the job? He’d never expressly forbade it, but he’d never had to. He kept a tight ship; the Foxfire inn staff never indulged in anything mind altering, aside, of course, for Clayton’s regular magical brainwashing.\nClayton made a mental note to include that rule in the next group training.\n\n“Who is it?” he asked. “Someone I know?” \n“No, sir, but you’ll, like, really love him..”\n‘Like, really’ was never a phrase this girl used either.\n“Fine, let’s see what he wants, then.”\nClayton stood from his desk, wiped his claw clean of ink, and allowed the coughing, smoke-stinking servant to lead the way out of the office, down into the bustle of the Foxfire inn lobby.\nHe could have followed his nose, honestly. Or his eyes, seeing the source of the grey smoke that gradually swirled up to congregate around the ceiling like a raincloud.\n\nThis visitor had clearly made himself right at home - him and his crusty entourage. They’d commandeered one of the large lounging pits, a space normally reserved for that naga diplomat who stuck her head in now and again. She’d be pissed to see a prey-animal making himself at home among all the pillows and cushions.\n\nAbout half of the venue’s other chairs and stools had been pulled up and around the pit, and they were all occupied. Every visitor was absolutely enraptured by the soft, quavering voice of the sheep sitting amongst them all. Maybe a dozen of them were dressed in loose hempen clothes, faded and stiff. There were at least two dozen others who had joined him all of whom were either patrons of the Foxfire Inn, or staff.\n\nThe sheep’s curved horns were painted with turquoise shades, and he was enrobed in fabrics that looked - and smelled - like they hadn’t been washed in years. His snout poked out from a mass of dark ginger wool, and he appeared to be chewing as he spoke. \nIntruders like these were a dime a dozen. Which would it be? Mind-melting drugs? A hypnotic voice? Was the incense putting them under?\nHe’d heard of this guy… a ram roaming the lands and slowly building up a cult of personality. The Conduit of the Spirits, or something.\nThis amateur didn’t know who he was dealing with.\n\nClayton couldn’t tell if he was being looked at until the sheep had turned his head towards them and gave him a beatific, crooked-toothed smile.\n“Oh, my humblest greetings to the owner of this beautiful haven,” the old ram said. “I thank you for allowing us impoverished travellers to stay under this hallowed roof.”\n“Ahem.” Clayton looked to the mass of bodies gathered around him and spotted more than one hand going between more than one pair of thighs. “This isn’t a boarding house. Or a whorehouse.”\n“Ah, but me and my brothers and sisters do not need any. The energies of the universe speak through me, and that provides sustenance.”\nClayton stared at the sheep’s mouth and its circular chewing motions.\n\n“You’re eating something, by the looks of it.”\n”Ah, but you’re merely mistaken. This cud I chew is simply part of my meditation, and it allows the words of the universe to flow freely through me, as I am but a Conduit for the world..”\n“Be that as it may, Conduit…” Clayton turned up his nose. “If that’s the case, then you can sleep outside. Plenty of trees you can shelter under.”\n“Ah, but charity provides-“\n”Ah, but, ah, but-“ Clayton mocked. “Come off it. I’ve seen plenty of grifters like you in my time. This isn’t that kind of establishment. You’re not about to guilt me. In fact…”\n\nIt was unclear where to look in that mass of wool, but that wasn’t going to stop Clay from nailing this sheep with his hypnotic, swirling pink stare.\n“I think it would be preferable if you got up and-hrk!”\nAn arm wrapped around his neck, and a paw covered his eyes. From the size of those hands, not to mention the musky scent… it was one of Clay’s bouncers, that big bull girl, he reckoned. A former prizefighter turned petty thief, who had run afoul of him.\nHer scent drove him wild at the best of times… it was why he brainwashed her and took her in.\nJust how many of his employees had this sheep stolen away from him?\n\n“Thanks for catching that tic, Stary,” the Conduit said. That geriatric quaver in his voice was suddenly nowhere to be heard. Clayon tried to stare through the slight slits between the fingers. He sat forward, rolling his shoulders back, and suddenly seemed a great deal more vibrant. \n“You’re a sharp fox… sharper than most. Promise me you’re not going to try that shit, and I’ll let my follower release you.”\n“Your-?” Clayon sputtered. \n“Look… I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot here.” the sheep’s scent was getting closer, and the fox could hear the clop of the chitinous toes on his wooden floor. \n\n“Your maids here were telling me so much about you. Seems like you’re a pretty good boss, all things considered. And I get the appeal of having a whole throng of brainwashed idiots under your control. So… one dominator to another, let’s just have a chat, chew the cud for a bit!”\n“You’re in no place to make any demands!” Clayton kicked and writhed against the massive, eye-blocking arms. “This is my establishment! You’re not going to stink this place up! You smell like you haven’t bathed in months!”\n“But, Mr. Foxfire, a little birdy told me that’s secretly how you like it~!”\n“Fffuck,” Clayton cursed, kicking and wriggling again. Which one of them spilled the beans…? It didn’t matter. They fell way too fast, whoever they were.\n\n“W-well, this is still my house! And I’m in charge here, let me go!”\n“Of course, Stary, of course…” the sheep chuckled. “Tell you what. Let old Kasimir offer an olive branch to you. You look like you could unwind a bit, take the load off… maybe you’re a little, heh, pent up?”\n\n…Clayton hadn’t even noticed his boner. Of course. The tight embrace around his face, not to mention all those scents, had made his already tight pants even tighter. The thick aroma of the bull-girl’s pit-scent, plus the natural burnt-sweet musk of the so-called conduit, and all of that acrid smoke, mingled into a vile perfume that Clayton couldn’t help but find irresistibly arousing.\n\n“Don’t you dare t-touch me!” Clayon sputtered, redoubling his squirming efforts, and only getting more pit-stink for his trouble. The salty sweat and tangy musk was not doing him any favours.\n\n“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on fucking your ass.” Kasimir said. “I’m not a top. But I do plan on giving you a little gift.”\nThe voice was getting lower down. As Clayton squirmed, he felt familiarly slender hands on the waist of his pants, ready to pull them down as they’d done many times before. \n“And I’ve found that my mouth has a lot of gifts to give. Kind words… kisses… blowjobs~”\nClayton couldn’t suppress the huff in his throat, which gave him another hit of that bull-girl’s pit-scent. It complemented the sheep’s smoky stench too… The combination made Clayton feel more than a little light headed.\n“I’m gonna give you one of the best orgasms of your life,” Kasimir said.\n“Th-then will you leave?” Clayton grunted.\n“If that’s what you want… but you might have a hard time letting a mouth like mine go~”\n\nThe ram was nothing if not confident, but Clayton had a suspicion that this sheep meant what he said…\n“What do you say, Stary? Just tell your servants to strip ya down, and I’ll get right to work.”\nClayton had fail safes for this sort of thing. Commands that could cut through any other dominant’s brainwashing. But he couldn’t help but wonder just how good it might feel.\nHe could probably dip his dick in there for just a minute or two, just to see what the ram could do, then turn the tides.\n\nClayton’s hubristic horniness always worked against him like this. He never seemed to learn. Nor would he now.\n“Strip me,” he said quickly.\nHis cock flopped out from its prison and tapped Kasimir on his nose. Clayton heard a giggle, felt a warm exhalation of air caress his cock, then, almost immediately, his cock was engulfed.\nClayton bucked his hips, reflexively gasping with audible bliss. \nThe ram sucked with the same sort of circular motions he used while chewing; his head lolled from side to side, his surprisingly long tongue curling and prodding along Clayton’s tool. Clayton’s dangling feet curled their toes, and his thighs found their way around the sheep’s shoulders. His hips were pulled forward by the forceful suckling, and Clayton knew that this fake guru was getting off to it as much as he was.\nHe closed his eyes, even though they were already engulfed in darkness, and took in the warmth, the pulsing squish, the huffs of smoky nostril-breath against his crotch. The scent stuck to his nose, and his fur, but the more it filled his sinus, the more pleasant he found it, moment after moment.\n\nWhen he opened his eyes again, it was like he had teleported. Time had passed, more time than he was comfortable having lost. He was nestled in a mass of smoky-smelling revellers. Some of them were his servants, the others were the ram’s crusty entourage. All of them were staring at him with adoring smiles, and dilated, black-marble eyes. \nThe cushions beneath Clayton’s body didn’t feel like the ones from the lounge-pit, they were too rough and hempen to have come from his in. Not only that, in his peripherals he could see fabrics of all new colours and materials being draped and spread throughout the inn - his inn! And there were plenty of faces he had a vague sense he’d never seen before, carousing and fucking and belching sickly smoke into the air.\nAnd between his legs, still suckling, was Kasimir. The sheep pulled back, his flat teeth giving the faintest hint of a nibble on Clayton’s cocktip, and moaned with satisfaction.\n\n“Kurwa Mac, that’s a great tasting dick. And you smell great down there, too.”\n“Damn right…” Clayton gurgled in spite of himself, and gasped when Kasimir took the base of his cock and stroked the slick length.\n“I’m gonna have to milk you for a while, huh?” Kasimir nestled his head against Clayton’s thigh nuzzling his wooly cheek against the shaft and sighing with delight. “I’ll probably keep goin’ after I make you cum, if you let me.”\n\n“Y-yeah…?” Clayton croaked. \nHe sensed an opportunity. A chance to hypnotise the ram and take the reins, regain control… \nHis cock twitched as if to remind him that its release was more important than his reversal. How silly of him to forget, ruled as he was by his cock.\nThe sheep reached into his mouth and pulled something out from behind his back teeth. A little wad of something green and shiny was pinched between his fingertips. \nClayton couldn’t see Kasimir was staring right at him, at his panting open mouth… but he could feel those eyes on him.\n“Catch,” Kasimir said, wicking the squishy wad right at Clayton’s face. Clayton was too horny not to follow his direction.\n\nThe taste was bitter, like anise and licorice dipped in tar. But as it squished between its teeth and its juices leaked onto his tongue, he felt something seep from it, through his tongue, and travelling into his head. The sensation of discombobulation and dizziness revolved and twisted through his skull before settling in the folds of his brain.\nHe felt a tiredness, the sort that came just before nodding off. But with that, the warmth of a perfectly calibrated sauna. And with that, the taste of someone’s lips on his tongue, and the scent of a delicious musk, and all sorts of other sensations that set his synapses ablaze.\n\n“Hhhuh…?” he groaned. A bit of that green moss began to fall from his muzzle, but Kasimir caught it and slipped it back in. The more Clayton chewed, the stronger the taste got, and the more that sensation spread. When Clayton looked around, his vision melted. Every sharp, unfriendly angle shifted and curved and curled into spirals. Free from the tyrannical tethers of objective reality, he took in the beautiful streams of colour, magic, and light surrounding him. Was this what those energies he spent his life tapping into looked like? An endless aurora, enfolding him and everyone else? Lashing them all together in secret, wonderful bondage?\n\nHow could he have been so blind to the world’s secret wonders? He had taken it all for granted.\nAll of the threads of majestic magic had a source, a central point. All the roads travelled back to the ram. The Conduit. \nHe was blessed to be so close to the source of the world’s beauty, the one who channelled its essence and shared its bounty.\nClayton was so happy to be bound to the Conduit, to be one with his will - the will of the universe. \n\n\n“That’s it, my child…” Kasimir said, mockingly adopting that old-man voice again for a brief moment. “I have given you my gift, the gift that all of us divine siblings enjoy… it’s good shit, right. Just chew, suckle on it, really enjoy it… and I’ll get to work on ya down here. Sound good, stary?”\n“Huh…?” Clayton giggled, still coming to terms with the beautiful new truth of the world.\n“That’s what I thought,” Kasimir chuckled. “Now, hold nice and still, and let’s get at that dick…”\n\nThe ram slid his lips around Clayton’s cock once more, and the fox’s moans grew louder, deeper, more open-throated as his self consciousness died with the rest of his ego. Clayton laid back, giggling and drooling thick, colourful saliva from his mouth. His pupils had gone completely dilated, that same marble-black as every other person who had consumed the moss. His tongue slid out the corner of his mouth, now coated with green from the psychedelic plant.\nHe let out loud, idiotic groans of pleasure as Kasimir throated him, his thin throat bulging and distending from the girth. Kasimir put one of his hooves on Clayton’s belly, rubbing the fox and feeling his rise and fall.\nHold nice and still. Clayton wanted nothing more than to do that.\nClayton’s fingers curled and sparkled, the magical energies within him seeping and leaking from his pores. He could see them too, those little wisps of hot pink and purple joining the multi-coloured threads of the world around him. He gurgled and laughed to himself. He wanted to stay exactly like this, in this spot, forever.\nThe magic spoke to him, the energies around him, told him exactly what he had to do. \n\nClayton lifted up one of his paws, slowly and sleepily. The pink light turned a stony shade, and he pressed it against his nose. \n“Boop~” he said. \n“Hmm?” Kasimir pulled back up, his lips still around the tip. \n“Ahehehehh, nice n ssstill…” \nClayton giggled, his voice turning strange and nasal as his nose and sinus turned to stone. His lips were frozen next, as well as his face, and the rest of his head. The expression he was frozen in was an idiotic one, his tongue draped to the left, his right eye droopier than the left. One last little choked gurgle escaped the stone hole as his throat calcified with the rest of him.\nThe stone-skin spread rapidly, like cracks on an icy lake. Kasimir noticed his hand was still on Clayton’s stomach just in time to pull it back before the spell could spread to it\n“CHOLERA! JA PIERDOLE!” He fell back, looking on with shock and confusion as the petrification spell continued. Clayton’s legs squirmed a little, his toes curling and scrunching inwards just as the encroaching stone reached and encased him.\n\n“Kurwa Mac, you fucking idiota… I was enjoying that too!”\nHe looked down at the splayed out statue. Clayton wasn’t even in a position where he could be stood upright, his limbs a spread-eagled sprawl. The piece of moss Kasimir had shared with him was stoned with the rest of him too.\n“Fuck’s sake,” the sheep tutted, reaching into his prodigious wool to dig around for a fresh, dry piece. “Anyone here know a curse-removal spell?”\nThere were no responses. Kasimir looked around. Everyone was on their own individual vision quest, not quite at the point where they’d be able to really listen to or process his commands. \nKasimir looked down at the statue one more time. The dick was still hard, still sticking up.\nThe sheep began to chew on the moss, mulling things over in his head as he stared into the black, stony, sightless face. He looked down at the still erect dick. It was still at a good angle, at least…\n“Well, I guess you’ll still work as a fuck-seat,” he said with a shrug. “You’ve got lube somewhere here, right? Ugh, what am I doing, talking to a statue…”\n\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Transcendent Scent
By Limewah
Subscriber Reward for Flarfenarfle (June 2024)
18+


Clayton thought he could smell something… a bit off. More than a bit, in fact. It smelled like a skunk had died after eating too much marzipan, and their corpse had been lit on fire.
The scent wafted into the room in hot pursuit of the staggering lamb girl. It was probably caked into her wool.
Without looking up from the letter he was writing with an ink-tipped claw, the fiery-furred fox waved his hand, his fingertips sparkled, and the scent dissipated; at least, it did for a moment. But his sensitive nose could tell there was definitely more of it to come.
“Someone to see you, Sir…” the lamb mumbled.
That got Clayton to look up from his work.
He wasn’t expecting visitors. Nor was he expecting to see the lamb so dishevelled. Or to see her eyes so dilated, to the point where her eyes were opaque black. She coughed once, and a little plume of smoke slipped from the corners of her mouth.

…Smoking on the job? He’d never expressly forbade it, but he’d never had to. He kept a tight ship; the Foxfire inn staff never indulged in anything mind altering, aside, of course, for Clayton’s regular magical brainwashing.
Clayton made a mental note to include that rule in the next group training.

“Who is it?” he asked. “Someone I know?”
“No, sir, but you’ll, like, really love him..”
‘Like, really’ was never a phrase this girl used either.
“Fine, let’s see what he wants, then.”
Clayton stood from his desk, wiped his claw clean of ink, and allowed the coughing, smoke-stinking servant to lead the way out of the office, down into the bustle of the Foxfire inn lobby.
He could have followed his nose, honestly. Or his eyes, seeing the source of the grey smoke that gradually swirled up to congregate around the ceiling like a raincloud.

This visitor had clearly made himself right at home - him and his crusty entourage. They’d commandeered one of the large lounging pits, a space normally reserved for that naga diplomat who stuck her head in now and again. She’d be pissed to see a prey-animal making himself at home among all the pillows and cushions.

About half of the venue’s other chairs and stools had been pulled up and around the pit, and they were all occupied. Every visitor was absolutely enraptured by the soft, quavering voice of the sheep sitting amongst them all. Maybe a dozen of them were dressed in loose hempen clothes, faded and stiff. There were at least two dozen others who had joined him all of whom were either patrons of the Foxfire Inn, or staff.

The sheep’s curved horns were painted with turquoise shades, and he was enrobed in fabrics that looked - and smelled - like they hadn’t been washed in years. His snout poked out from a mass of dark ginger wool, and he appeared to be chewing as he spoke.
Intruders like these were a dime a dozen. Which would it be? Mind-melting drugs? A hypnotic voice? Was the incense putting them under?
He’d heard of this guy… a ram roaming the lands and slowly building up a cult of personality. The Conduit of the Spirits, or something.
This amateur didn’t know who he was dealing with.

Clayton couldn’t tell if he was being looked at until the sheep had turned his head towards them and gave him a beatific, crooked-toothed smile.
“Oh, my humblest greetings to the owner of this beautiful haven,” the old ram said. “I thank you for allowing us impoverished travellers to stay under this hallowed roof.”
“Ahem.” Clayton looked to the mass of bodies gathered around him and spotted more than one hand going between more than one pair of thighs. “This isn’t a boarding house. Or a whorehouse.”
“Ah, but me and my brothers and sisters do not need any. The energies of the universe speak through me, and that provides sustenance.”
Clayton stared at the sheep’s mouth and its circular chewing motions.

“You’re eating something, by the looks of it.”
”Ah, but you’re merely mistaken. This cud I chew is simply part of my meditation, and it allows the words of the universe to flow freely through me, as I am but a Conduit for the world..”
“Be that as it may, Conduit…” Clayton turned up his nose. “If that’s the case, then you can sleep outside. Plenty of trees you can shelter under.”
“Ah, but charity provides-“
”Ah, but, ah, but-“ Clayton mocked. “Come off it. I’ve seen plenty of grifters like you in my time. This isn’t that kind of establishment. You’re not about to guilt me. In fact…”

It was unclear where to look in that mass of wool, but that wasn’t going to stop Clay from nailing this sheep with his hypnotic, swirling pink stare.
“I think it would be preferable if you got up and-hrk!”
An arm wrapped around his neck, and a paw covered his eyes. From the size of those hands, not to mention the musky scent… it was one of Clay’s bouncers, that big bull girl, he reckoned. A former prizefighter turned petty thief, who had run afoul of him.
Her scent drove him wild at the best of times… it was why he brainwashed her and took her in.
Just how many of his employees had this sheep stolen away from him?

“Thanks for catching that tic, Stary,” the Conduit said. That geriatric quaver in his voice was suddenly nowhere to be heard. Clayon tried to stare through the slight slits between the fingers. He sat forward, rolling his shoulders back, and suddenly seemed a great deal more vibrant.
“You’re a sharp fox… sharper than most. Promise me you’re not going to try that shit, and I’ll let my follower release you.”
“Your-?” Clayon sputtered.
“Look… I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot here.” the sheep’s scent was getting closer, and the fox could hear the clop of the chitinous toes on his wooden floor.

“Your maids here were telling me so much about you. Seems like you’re a pretty good boss, all things considered. And I get the appeal of having a whole throng of brainwashed idiots under your control. So… one dominator to another, let’s just have a chat, chew the cud for a bit!”
“You’re in no place to make any demands!” Clayton kicked and writhed against the massive, eye-blocking arms. “This is my establishment! You’re not going to stink this place up! You smell like you haven’t bathed in months!”
“But, Mr. Foxfire, a little birdy told me that’s secretly how you like it~!”
“Fffuck,” Clayton cursed, kicking and wriggling again. Which one of them spilled the beans…? It didn’t matter. They fell way too fast, whoever they were.

“W-well, this is still my house! And I’m in charge here, let me go!”
“Of course, Stary, of course…” the sheep chuckled. “Tell you what. Let old Kasimir offer an olive branch to you. You look like you could unwind a bit, take the load off… maybe you’re a little, heh, pent up?”

…Clayton hadn’t even noticed his boner. Of course. The tight embrace around his face, not to mention all those scents, had made his already tight pants even tighter. The thick aroma of the bull-girl’s pit-scent, plus the natural burnt-sweet musk of the so-called conduit, and all of that acrid smoke, mingled into a vile perfume that Clayton couldn’t help but find irresistibly arousing.

“Don’t you dare t-touch me!” Clayon sputtered, redoubling his squirming efforts, and only getting more pit-stink for his trouble. The salty sweat and tangy musk was not doing him any favours.

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on fucking your ass.” Kasimir said. “I’m not a top. But I do plan on giving you a little gift.”
The voice was getting lower down. As Clayton squirmed, he felt familiarly slender hands on the waist of his pants, ready to pull them down as they’d done many times before.
“And I’ve found that my mouth has a lot of gifts to give. Kind words… kisses… blowjobs~”
Clayton couldn’t suppress the huff in his throat, which gave him another hit of that bull-girl’s pit-scent. It complemented the sheep’s smoky stench too… The combination made Clayton feel more than a little light headed.
“I’m gonna give you one of the best orgasms of your life,” Kasimir said.
“Th-then will you leave?” Clayton grunted.
“If that’s what you want… but you might have a hard time letting a mouth like mine go~”

The ram was nothing if not confident, but Clayton had a suspicion that this sheep meant what he said…
“What do you say, Stary? Just tell your servants to strip ya down, and I’ll get right to work.”
Clayton had fail safes for this sort of thing. Commands that could cut through any other dominant’s brainwashing. But he couldn’t help but wonder just how good it might feel.
He could probably dip his dick in there for just a minute or two, just to see what the ram could do, then turn the tides.

Clayton’s hubristic horniness always worked against him like this. He never seemed to learn. Nor would he now.
“Strip me,” he said quickly.
His cock flopped out from its prison and tapped Kasimir on his nose. Clayton heard a giggle, felt a warm exhalation of air caress his cock, then, almost immediately, his cock was engulfed.
Clayton bucked his hips, reflexively gasping with audible bliss.
The ram sucked with the same sort of circular motions he used while chewing; his head lolled from side to side, his surprisingly long tongue curling and prodding along Clayton’s tool. Clayton’s dangling feet curled their toes, and his thighs found their way around the sheep’s shoulders. His hips were pulled forward by the forceful suckling, and Clayton knew that this fake guru was getting off to it as much as he was.
He closed his eyes, even though they were already engulfed in darkness, and took in the warmth, the pulsing squish, the huffs of smoky nostril-breath against his crotch. The scent stuck to his nose, and his fur, but the more it filled his sinus, the more pleasant he found it, moment after moment.

When he opened his eyes again, it was like he had teleported. Time had passed, more time than he was comfortable having lost. He was nestled in a mass of smoky-smelling revellers. Some of them were his servants, the others were the ram’s crusty entourage. All of them were staring at him with adoring smiles, and dilated, black-marble eyes.
The cushions beneath Clayton’s body didn’t feel like the ones from the lounge-pit, they were too rough and hempen to have come from his in. Not only that, in his peripherals he could see fabrics of all new colours and materials being draped and spread throughout the inn - his inn! And there were plenty of faces he had a vague sense he’d never seen before, carousing and fucking and belching sickly smoke into the air.
And between his legs, still suckling, was Kasimir. The sheep pulled back, his flat teeth giving the faintest hint of a nibble on Clayton’s cocktip, and moaned with satisfaction.

“Kurwa Mac, that’s a great tasting dick. And you smell great down there, too.”
“Damn right…” Clayton gurgled in spite of himself, and gasped when Kasimir took the base of his cock and stroked the slick length.
“I’m gonna have to milk you for a while, huh?” Kasimir nestled his head against Clayton’s thigh nuzzling his wooly cheek against the shaft and sighing with delight. “I’ll probably keep goin’ after I make you cum, if you let me.”

“Y-yeah…?” Clayton croaked.
He sensed an opportunity. A chance to hypnotise the ram and take the reins, regain control…
His cock twitched as if to remind him that its release was more important than his reversal. How silly of him to forget, ruled as he was by his cock.
The sheep reached into his mouth and pulled something out from behind his back teeth. A little wad of something green and shiny was pinched between his fingertips.
Clayton couldn’t see Kasimir was staring right at him, at his panting open mouth… but he could feel those eyes on him.
“Catch,” Kasimir said, wicking the squishy wad right at Clayton’s face. Clayton was too horny not to follow his direction.

The taste was bitter, like anise and licorice dipped in tar. But as it squished between its teeth and its juices leaked onto his tongue, he felt something seep from it, through his tongue, and travelling into his head. The sensation of discombobulation and dizziness revolved and twisted through his skull before settling in the folds of his brain.
He felt a tiredness, the sort that came just before nodding off. But with that, the warmth of a perfectly calibrated sauna. And with that, the taste of someone’s lips on his tongue, and the scent of a delicious musk, and all sorts of other sensations that set his synapses ablaze.

“Hhhuh…?” he groaned. A bit of that green moss began to fall from his muzzle, but Kasimir caught it and slipped it back in. The more Clayton chewed, the stronger the taste got, and the more that sensation spread. When Clayton looked around, his vision melted. Every sharp, unfriendly angle shifted and curved and curled into spirals. Free from the tyrannical tethers of objective reality, he took in the beautiful streams of colour, magic, and light surrounding him. Was this what those energies he spent his life tapping into looked like? An endless aurora, enfolding him and everyone else? Lashing them all together in secret, wonderful bondage?

How could he have been so blind to the world’s secret wonders? He had taken it all for granted.
All of the threads of majestic magic had a source, a central point. All the roads travelled back to the ram. The Conduit.
He was blessed to be so close to the source of the world’s beauty, the one who channelled its essence and shared its bounty.
Clayton was so happy to be bound to the Conduit, to be one with his will - the will of the universe.


“That’s it, my child…” Kasimir said, mockingly adopting that old-man voice again for a brief moment. “I have given you my gift, the gift that all of us divine siblings enjoy… it’s good shit, right. Just chew, suckle on it, really enjoy it… and I’ll get to work on ya down here. Sound good, stary?”
“Huh…?” Clayton giggled, still coming to terms with the beautiful new truth of the world.
“That’s what I thought,” Kasimir chuckled. “Now, hold nice and still, and let’s get at that dick…”

The ram slid his lips around Clayton’s cock once more, and the fox’s moans grew louder, deeper, more open-throated as his self consciousness died with the rest of his ego. Clayton laid back, giggling and drooling thick, colourful saliva from his mouth. His pupils had gone completely dilated, that same marble-black as every other person who had consumed the moss. His tongue slid out the corner of his mouth, now coated with green from the psychedelic plant.
He let out loud, idiotic groans of pleasure as Kasimir throated him, his thin throat bulging and distending from the girth. Kasimir put one of his hooves on Clayton’s belly, rubbing the fox and feeling his rise and fall.
Hold nice and still. Clayton wanted nothing more than to do that.
Clayton’s fingers curled and sparkled, the magical energies within him seeping and leaking from his pores. He could see them too, those little wisps of hot pink and purple joining the multi-coloured threads of the world around him. He gurgled and laughed to himself. He wanted to stay exactly like this, in this spot, forever.
The magic spoke to him, the energies around him, told him exactly what he had to do.

Clayton lifted up one of his paws, slowly and sleepily. The pink light turned a stony shade, and he pressed it against his nose.
“Boop~” he said.
“Hmm?” Kasimir pulled back up, his lips still around the tip.
“Ahehehehh, nice n ssstill…”
Clayton giggled, his voice turning strange and nasal as his nose and sinus turned to stone. His lips were frozen next, as well as his face, and the rest of his head. The expression he was frozen in was an idiotic one, his tongue draped to the left, his right eye droopier than the left. One last little choked gurgle escaped the stone hole as his throat calcified with the rest of him.
The stone-skin spread rapidly, like cracks on an icy lake. Kasimir noticed his hand was still on Clayton’s stomach just in time to pull it back before the spell could spread to it
“CHOLERA! JA PIERDOLE!” He fell back, looking on with shock and confusion as the petrification spell continued. Clayton’s legs squirmed a little, his toes curling and scrunching inwards just as the encroaching stone reached and encased him.

“Kurwa Mac, you fucking idiota… I was enjoying that too!”
He looked down at the splayed out statue. Clayton wasn’t even in a position where he could be stood upright, his limbs a spread-eagled sprawl. The piece of moss Kasimir had shared with him was stoned with the rest of him too.
“Fuck’s sake,” the sheep tutted, reaching into his prodigious wool to dig around for a fresh, dry piece. “Anyone here know a curse-removal spell?”
There were no responses. Kasimir looked around. Everyone was on their own individual vision quest, not quite at the point where they’d be able to really listen to or process his commands.
Kasimir looked down at the statue one more time. The dick was still hard, still sticking up.
The sheep began to chew on the moss, mulling things over in his head as he stared into the black, stony, sightless face. He looked down at the still erect dick. It was still at a good angle, at least…
“Well, I guess you’ll still work as a fuck-seat,” he said with a shrug. “You’ve got lube somewhere here, right? Ugh, what am I doing, talking to a statue…”

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