Oswin never felt so dizzy in his life. Sure, he’d had some serious benders, drowning in so much ale the world would spin. That included a few nights with Ein that always left him wishing for a little more from the puma he’d long held a candle for. And now, so close to really having the man he’d spent restless nights yearning for, he was realizing how that dream had been completely ripped away from him.
Charlon’s cock stuffed in his muzzle overwhelmed his breathing. It was big enough to choke him, forcing himself to relax his throat lest he suffocate on the giant piece of meat occupying his windpipe. That would be bad enough alone, but the scent was really finishing the job, the second part of a one-two punch obliterating his senses. The wolfdog’s musk was heavy and pungent, and Oswin only had his nose to breathe with. Up this close, the smell was overwhelming, the hints he’d caught simply being around this man for that last few hours were now slamming into his lungs with enough force to make his body feel limp.
Dominance.
Oswin thought he understood the word, what it meant, how to establish it. He was strong, he was a leader, he was capable. His rugged charms made bedding any man he wished an easy feat. Hell, he had to work for it a bit, but even Ein, now in his resurrected form, found his way to submitting to the buck’s cock. He thought he understood dominance.
But he could never compare with this. This demigod of muscle and skill, this man among men, the being with an aura of pure masculine authority. This is the man that represented everything he thought being a man was all about. The man fucking his throat like he was a toy, that was dominance.
Oswin’s mind was at once sluggish and racing. Like running through quicksand, he felt like he was sinking with each strained lungful of potent man musk. He was losing something, more than the man of his dreams. A panic set itself inside him, as he weakly put an arm up to the side Charlon’s thigh.
Charlon looked down at the hand with a mirthless grin. A hand built from heavy lifting and intense training seeming to have lost all strength. He gripped the stag’s antlers tighter, and pulled roughly, impaling his plaything once again.
To Oswin’s surprise, the wolfdog had lost no vigor once he came. Dominance. The word floated in his mind again. The man had endless endurance, he could have been fighting him for a hundred hours and never seen him tire. Or, at least that’s now how it felt to the stag. As his mouth found itself adjusting to its new role of “cocksucker” he found himself accepting the idea that he never stood a chance. At winning, at Ein, at anything. Dominance, what a joke. His hand weakly gripped Charlon’s thigh, its memory of strength begging it to push outwards. Instead the hooved fingers pulled, his body making its desires known.
He was sinking in quicksand, and he wanted more.
Charlon’s grin grew wider as he signaled to the crowd. He panned his view around, all eyes eagerly fixed on him and his victory. All dissenters found their words caught in their throats as their hands mindlessly stroked their dicks.
“You fancied yourself a stag,” the wolfdog declared loudly, this speech more for his onlookers than for the man suffocating on his dick. “But I think you’ve shown yourself to be closer to a doe. Let me guide you to your proper place.”
Oswin’s head nodded without thought, feeling the cock press against the sides of his throat as he did. To be mocked and belittled would normally stir up a rage unlike any other in the deer, but now weakened and beaten, he could not muster the energy. He was sinking, and his mind left defenseless. So he was a bit taken aback as the word rung in his ears. Doe.
He felt Charlon grip on his antlers yet again, and this time the wolfdog accompanied that with a powerful thrust of his hips. That should have choked Oswin back out of his dazed state, but instead his neck relaxed over the massive tool, having acclimated to its purpose. To hold this man’s cock. He felt his hand stroking the fur of his rough lover, and that weakness he felt seemed to overwhelm him. His arm felt strange, it tingled and felt fuzzy, like it was going numb.
His body felt that way all over. His stomach found itself stretching and compressing, the weight of it seeming to lessen with each jab filling his muzzle to the back of his head. His shoulders narrowed, years of heavy lifting washing away. Sitting on his knees, he felt his body become unstable, his hips widening as his tail flicked too and fro. He adjusted his knees wider to compensate, now eagerly licking at the length that had claimed him so thoroughly.
He felt an odd compulsion to look around, feeling like there should be some shame in what was happening to him. But as he flicked his eyes to the people of the camp, the glazed look and panting expressions told him everything he needed to know. This was Charlon’s show, he was just a prop. As he sucked more enthusiastically it almost felt like the cock in his mouth was growing even more. A dream come true, he idly thought.
Suddenly, his head tilted back, and he felt his body flung backward by a shove from the glorious piece he had been doing his best to pleasure. As he lay in the dirt below the adonis that had bested him, his eyes widened.
He seemed bigger, his muscles built more than they were before. His chest felt like it could rival a ox, and his legs looked like they could power his body through impossible feats of acrobatics. But that cock was what really drew his attention. It was big before, but now it was a true monster, hanging low on his leg with heavy balls the deer could still smell as strongly as ever. Oswin’s face fell with a placid expression, a hint of lust peaking through looking at this perfect masculine pole.
“Ha!” Charlon exclaimed with a scornful tone, “It seems all the buck’s antlers have shrunken down.”
Oswin sat there confused, his head feeling light he found himself rubbing the top of it. Then he realized what his dominator had proclaimed. His proud and majestic antlers had certainly shrunk, almost completely. All that was left were two adorable nubs, smooth to the touch. A point of pride screamed in his head, and was quickly swallowed. He felt a strange peace wash over him, as if this was the proper way of things.
As he looked at the powerful man above him, he noticed that his eyes laid not on the deer’s head, but on his crotch. Following the trail down, he caught his second surprise, his cock had shrunk. Once a proud representative of his masculinity, he found it had diminished down to a finger thin cocklet. He brought a delicate hand down to it, touching it gently, and finding it sensitive in a way he’d never been before.
He absentmindedly let out a giggle, higher pitched than he’d ever had in his life. “W-what happened...?” his voice strained, but lacked any of the masculine deepness it held before. Now, he sounded effeminate, downright girly. He felt his face, any semblance of facial hair long gone, his features softened all around. Gone was his square jaw and powerful chin, now thin and androgynous. His cheeks were soft, his cheekbones low. If one was not staring at his cocklet, they might confuse him for a woman. Even then, they still might.
He looked up dazed at the man, as the wolfdog walked around to position himself behind him. “You will find your purpose now rests on the whims of my cock, doeboi,” Charlon proclaimed, slapping Oswin in the rear. He yelped, feeling his voluminous ass cheeks jiggle from the blow, and feeling himself settle on all fours rising his hindquarters up. It’s almost as if his body had been trained to do this without him knowing. “Pray that you have moistened me enough Toy. For this shall be the first of many times you will be used like this.”
He furrowed his brow, an odd confusion filling the doeboi. Memories flashed in his mind of taking Master’s cock in all of his holes. They were flimsy and hazy, but there they were, burrowing into his mind.
He had little time to ponder though, as he felt his hole being teased and played with. It was strange, he felt tighter than he should be. A lingering doubt floated in his mind, of course he’s tight, he’d never been fucked before! And yet each memory slotted itself in his brain, and the smell of Master stuck to the inside of his nostrils, deepening his submission. Down, down, sinking, sinking.
As the wolfdog removed his fingers from loosening the hole, the doeboi relaxed. “You are ready, Toy.” A command, and it was true. It was over, he could rest. He didn’t have to be a man anymore. Charlon had that covered.
Charlon thrusted into it, and Toy felt pleasure unending. It took very few thrusts from the behemoth in its tailhole to blow a load from its useless cocklet, but Toy felt far from relief. Its duty still called, to bring pleasure to Master. Pumping again and again, Toy could only moan happily at the opportunity to perform its role. To serve Master’s cock. Feeling it stretch it out, molding it into the optimal shape for pleasure, the powerful, dominant man pounding its hole. It smiled dully, eyes devoid of their former intelligence and wit. Sinking, sinking, sunk.
Toy could hear Master’s grunting, deep and imposing. It could hear the rising intensity as the glorious shaft throbbed in its hole. It was a good Toy, it had its role, it was fulfilling it. Empty of all thoughts but to pleasure. Thrust into again and again, Toy’s cocklet stirred and soon shot out a pitiful load, the last remnants of its time as a man spilling out on the ground. It paid no mind to it.
Soon, the culmination of its duty arrived. One final grunt, a thrust, a throb, and Master’s cock erupted inside Toy. Feeling Master’s cum coat its insides, Toy could only moan in bliss. A torrent representing Master’s satisfaction filled it completely. It had done its job.
Charlon pulled his cock out of the worthless doeboi, having taken what he needed. His authority and his strength, what little was worth to him. He looked around at the exhausted onlookers, each of them having blown their loads and looking at him with reverence. He commanded them now, all of them, as he always should have.
He walked over to Palseks and Geoffrey, the servants, gesturing to the well abused toy. “Clean this up, we should not leave our camp in such a state.” The two of them nodded and walked over to perform their duty.
He walked over to Veles, the cougar having a dazed expression on his face as he stared at the state of what had once been a man in the center of camp. “Veles,” he said, “You should not keep this form that was thrust upon you. In the morning, trim yourself back. I do not care for any talk of tactical disadvantage. I will not see you hold yourself to the standards of a scoundrel.”
Veles nodded weakly, wanting to protest, but finding the words dying in his throat in the presence of such a deity. He would simply do as he was told. He felt himself being held by the massive giant of a man, his body melting in the wolfdog’s eyes. “Yes, sir,” is all the words he could muster.
As the weary body of Toy was carried by the two of them, they saw its eyes transfixed on them, and muttered a single word. “Ein.”
As they watched it being carried by the polar bear, Veles could feel the anger of the wolfdog boil beside him. “Leave it,” Veles told him, “It simply believed until the end, and it will not matter in the morning.”
Charlon paused, then nodded, choosing to trust his adviser, his friend, his lover. He pulled the cougar close and kissed him, telling him it was okay, and guided him to his tent.