The lizardmen of the Dragon Tusk tribe stood gathered in the centre of their village, on the grounds that, no more than a day before, they’d been visited by a representative of the Green Claw tribe, Zaryusu Shasha. The same grounds where that representative had battled their leader for the right to discuss what he’d been sent to discuss. The only evidence of that meeting now were the gashes in the earth from their weapons. Zaryusu had lost that fight, at the cost of his life and something, perhaps, altogether more valuable. At the head of the crowd stood a lizardman that towered a good head over all the others, though his height was, arguably, not his most striking feature. As prominent, if not more so, were his arms. While his left was rather usual, his right was longer and more muscular to the point that it looked disproportionate to the rest of his body, more suited to a creature twice his size. Such a lizardman could only be Zenberu Gugu, the leader of the Dragon Tusk tribe. If his unique appearance wasn’t enough to convey that, what he was holding certainly did. Wound around the larger of his hands was a rope, leading off behind him. Those in a proper position to see around him could see that it was connected to a collar, wrapped around the neck of a far shorter, svelte looking lizardman, this one a female. Her legs were bound at the ankles with a set of thick wooden stocks, which were connected by a stiff iron bar to a similar pair clamped around her wrists. It left her forced into a hunched posture and unable to move in any manner but an odd, shuffling gait. It was a struggle to maintain her balance, something certainly not helped by the restraint of her tail, the tip of it attached to the back of her collar in a way that left her exposed to any passerby who cared to spare a glance. She was none other than Crusch Lulu, chieftain of the Red Eye tribe, though she was hardly in any position to take advantage of such an illustrious title. She’d accompanied Zaryusu when he’d set out to negotiate with the Dragon Tusk, and upon his defeat, she’d been taken as a slave by Zenberu. He’d wasted no time in helping himself to her body, raping her before Zaryusu’s body had even gone cold. Her bondage was quick to follow, leaving her fit to be paraded around like some sort of trophy without any risk of her being able to escape. Perhaps the only part of her that’d been left free was her mouth. Understandably so–she’d already well learned the value of staying silent after the first night she’d spent with Zenberu Gugu. She’d been doing just that for the greater portion of Zenberu’s speech, quietly staring down at her feet and making herself as small as her restraints would allow. As he continued to speak, though, she found herself glaring at the back of his head as if she could bore a hole through it with the sheer intensity of her stare, grinding her teeth together all the while. “…We’ll start towards the Green Claws’ territory at dawn,” Zenberu said. “Make all your necessary preparations. We’ll arrive by noon, and we’ll ensure their surrender, one way or another.” Crusch couldn’t see his face, but she could practically hear the grin in his voice as he spoke. The disgust she felt for him wound knots into her stomach. He spoke with such a casual air, as if he were discussing what was for lunch that day rather than the plans for the conquering and subjugation of an entire tribe. That disgust didn’t come alone, accompanied a rage unlike anything she’d felt previously. It didn’t take long before that rage was bubbling up to the surface, words slipping out of her mouth before she could stop them. “You’re going to put an entire tribe to the sword, just because you can? You’re no leader! You’re nothing more than a– a murderer, a thug!” In a moment, all the chattering of the crowd was cut short, their eyes all staring directly at her. Some of them looked surprised, while others looked like they wanted to tear out her throat for daring to interrupt the chieftain, though she had no fear of that. Not one of them would dare lay a claw on the ‘property’ of Zenberu, as much as she loathed that title. What caught her attention the most, though, were the ones who looked at her with barely concealed expressions of amusement. Once the heat of the moment started to dissipate and it sunk in what she’d just done, it didn’t take her long to realise why. There was just enough time for that realisation to blossom into a cold grip of fear, twisting like a cold knife in her stomach, as Zenberu slowly turned around and stared down at her with an intense stare. He didn’t say a word to her, something that made the usually outspoken lizardman all the more intimidating. His silence only lasted a few seconds, though, before he jerked his fist back. The leash came right along with it, sending her staggering forward with a choked noise. With the stocks keeping her legs together, Crusch could barely keep her feet under herself, and she was sure she was going to fall flat on her face. But she didn’t. Instead, Zenberu’s hands shot out and grabbed her by the sides, hoisting her up none-too-gently onto his shoulder. As soon as she was securely in place under his arm, he started moving forward in a direction that Crusch was all too familiar with. He was headed towards one of the huts surrounding the village centre, the same one where he’d kept her the night after he’d killed Zaryusu, violating her over and over. She thrashed around as best she was able, leaving a trail of protests behind her, but not one lizardman moved to help her. They just stood there, watching as she was carried off. When they reached the hut, Zenberu took only a few steps in before tossing Crusch across the room onto the bed inside, where she landed on her back with enough force to make the frame creak and to drive the air from her lungs. He stomped in after her, moving onto the bed and positioning himself over top of her on all fours. “It seems you haven’t learned when to keep your mouth shut,” Zenberu growled, grabbing a hold of the side of her face with one hand. His fingers dug into the side of her head, while his thumb slipped between her lips, digging painfully into the flesh of her mouth. Crusch let out a hiss and tried to pull away, but his grip was firm, and all she succeeded in doing was driving his claw further into the inside of her cheek. Still, she didn’t dare bite down. She’d learned at least that much. “That’s fine,” Zenberu said, reaching down between her legs with his other hand, roughly probing for her vagina. “I’ll just have to make sure you fully understand this time.” His fingers moved all across her front, groping without a shred of concern for her wellbeing, claws poking painfully into the more tender areas of her body. He stopped only long enough to remove the bar keeping her wrists tethered to her ankles, offering him even easier access to her body. He was quick to make use of it, moving into position over top of her. Zenberu hardly even spoke, focused entirely on raping her as quickly and brutally as possible, clearly more intent on making her suffer than achieving his own pleasure–though she was sure he’d get plenty of that, as well. He worked swiftly, moving with speed derived from all the other times he’d done this to her and no doubt to countless women before her. He was brutal, as per usual, though the rough fucking made up only half of the pain. The other half came from when, halfway through, he grabbed hold of her neck with both hands and started to squeeze. “Don’t!” Zenberu shouted, shoving his hips forward. His cock rammed into her, the bulge of his knot slamming against her entrance. Despite the numerous times she’d been forced to take him since her capture, the experience was still just as painful for Crusch–perhaps because of them. The only difference was a subtle one: instead of the pain of being split open for the first time, she now felt the assorted agonies of her raw insides being put to use once more before they’d had a chance to fully recover. “Fucking!” Zenberu’s fingers tightened around Crusch’s throat, and her mouth opened and closed noiselessly in response, unable to let out even the slightest noise. As if to fill the void left by her inability to speak, her tears streamed down her face even more abundantly, dripping off her cheeks and onto Zenberu’s hands. He didn’t even notice, focused solely on pistoning himself in and out of Crusch’s body. “Speak!” With that word, so guttural that it skirted the line between language and animalistic grunting, Zenberu rammed himself forward with as much strength as he could muster. His knot battered against Crusch’s hole with enough force to draw a strangled sound from even her tightly clenched airway, but even so, he didn’t manage to shove it inside her. Her muscles were too tensed, and he was too big. But Zenberu didn’t stop trying. He drew back half an inch, then thrust forward once again with all the same strength he’d used before. This time, Crusch’s lips spread a touch wider than they had last time, and she could feel every stinging, burning fraction that they stretched. Zenberu pulled back before slamming into her again, then again, over and over. It was just like every other time he’d decided to knot her. She’d say that it never got any easier, but that wouldn’t be entirely true–she could feel herself spreading open more readily than she had last time he’d done this, if only slightly. It was a testament to exactly how thoroughly and repeatedly he’d violated her, that her body was beginning to adjust to the treatment. That fact was brought into stark focus when her cunt, finally worked open, allowed his knot to slip inside. As soon as her insides were wrapped around it, it started to expand, her reward for enduring such a painful stretching being stretched even wider. She wanted to scream, but the hands around her throat made that impossible. All she could do was jerk and shudder in his grip, lights dancing in the edges of her vision. Once she’d been knotted, it didn’t take long for Zenberu to finish, letting out a pleasured growl as he started to shoot his load inside her. Crusch could feel bursts of seed work their way deep inside her, a heavy, liquid heat that collected in her belly. Still, she felt none of the horror that had plagued her when he’d first done this to her. After all, the danger of pregnancy had long since become a certainty. Through the fog of hypoxia, all she felt was a familiar sense of disgust and the kind of violent sadness that she always felt at being used like this. After spending a few seconds like that, working through the last few throbs of his cock with his hands still clutched around Crusch’s throat, Zenberu started to pull out. It wasn’t easy-going with his knot already fully swollen inside her as it was, but Zenberu had neither the concern for her nor the patience to wait for it to go down on its own. The pain of him using his grip around her neck for leverage, pushing on her head so hard that it felt like he was trying to tear it off of her body, was only matched by the agony of his knot pulling back on her insides. It always felt far worse going out than it did going in. But being that there was nothing else she could do, Crusch laid there and took it, shaking and jerking with cries that couldn’t escape her throat. The only mercy was that it was relatively quick: Zenberu was making no effort to drag things out, trying to tug himself free with as much force as he could muster. Once he’d managed to work his knot to its midpoint, stretching her so wide she thought she’d split open in the process, he succeeded. His knot popped free, and the rest of him slipped out effortlessly, his shaft being a good deal thinner than the bulge at the base of his cock. His hands finally released their grip around Crusch’s throat, and he moved away from his position over top of her and off of the bed, walking over to the far side of the hut to rummage across a cluttered table placed there. Crusch took the opportunity to curl up on herself and sob, keeping as silent as possible as much to spare her throat as to avoid any punishment from Zenberu for being too loud. Her cunt continued to gape between her thighs even after Zenberu had removed himself, his seed starting to ooze out of her and down along the base of her tail. “And just to make sure there are no more interruptions…” Zenberu said, turning back towards her with a long piece of fabric trailing from his fist. By the time Zenberu left the hut and returned to finish his speech, none of the tribe spared even a cursory glance to the albino standing behind him. There was a gag tied around her face, and she shook slightly and stared down at the dirt while droplets of fluid just as white as her scales dripped down the insides of her thighs. --- Shasuryu sat at the edge of the lake, looking out over its surface. Sticks placed at regular intervals poked out from the riverbed into the open air, all connected by mesh nets to form a large, cordoned off area. Whether accepting or disapproving of its presence, everyone in the Green Claw tribe knew of the place’s presence and what it was: a fish farm. Judging from the shadows of plump fish swimming just below the surface of the water, it was quite an effective one, too. Shasuryu stared down at them. The farm had been born from the idea of his brother, Zaryusu. It’d taken months to establish, though perhaps less from the difficulty in construction and more from the opposition of the greater part of the tribe. The idea of rearing fish rather than hunting them had been foreign to the lizardmen, and the situation was hardly helped by the fact that the one presenting such a radical idea was a traveller. Though none had yet had the courage to come to him directly with their complaints, Shasuryu could see that his brother was viewed with suspicion and distrust by most of the tribe. If he’d been a lesser man, Shasuryu likely would’ve treated Zaryusu the same as the rest of the tribe, either doing his best to ignore his existence or, when an interaction was unavoidable, treating him with only the bare minimum of respect required. He was an outsider now, after all, someone who’d turned their back on the tribe in favour of exploring the world. But Shasuryu hadn’t. Despite the prevailing views of the tribe, he’d done all he could to reintegrate his brother into the community. He’d spoken nothing but good of him to the rest of the lizardmen, and had used his influence to supply Zaryusu with the necessary resources for his endeavours–in secret, of course, being that it was considered inappropriate for a chieftain to assist those who were not a part of the tribe hierarchy. It was that aid which had allowed him to construct the fish farm next to which Shasuryu now stood. Given that such support was also what had enabled Zaryusu to take up the task of meeting with the Dragon Tusk tribe to discuss an alliance, he couldn’t help but wonder if offering it had been the best course of action. Though the tribe’s dealings with them had been slim, rumours of their chieftain had spread to them from the other tribes. ‘Bloodthirsty’ was a word too mild for what he’d heard. The thought lingered in his mind for only a moment before he dismissed it with a shake of his head. Zaryusu was a strong, capable warrior, and wizened from his travels to boot. If there was a single person in the tribe capable of dealing with the Dragon Tusk, it was him. Shasuryu had to temper his concern for Zaryusu with the reality of the situation. But while it was easy to say that, he’d still been spending increasing amounts of time at the lakeside, lingering at the edge of Zaryusu’s farm while wallowing in anxiety over his return. His eyes lifted towards the horizon, scanning for signs of his brother’s return for the dozenth time that hour. Yet this time, unlike every other time he’d looked that day and the days preceding, it wasn’t empty. A large beast was cresting over the horizon, easily recognizable as a hydra, even given the distance. Instead of the usual eight heads that the species typically possessed, however, this one only had four. Such a creature could only be Rororo, Zaryusu’s pet and, when the situation called for it, mount. The sight instantly brought a smile to Shasuryu's face, one with no small amount of eagerness behind it. Finally, his brother had returned! He could see his silhouette perched on top of Rororo’s back, along with another, smaller form that he didn’t recognize. Still, that didn’t matter; he was far too excited by the return of his brother to worry about a stranger. Leaping to his feet, Shasuryu ran along the bank of the river towards them, eager to greet them. However, as he approached, Shasuryu slowed and came to a stop–something was wrong. The lizardman riding Rororo had scales that were a dark green, rather than the ruddy brown colour that Zaryusu had, and he was a good deal taller and more muscular than his brother had been. Though he still wasn’t close enough for Shasuryu to make out his identity, there was no doubt that this was a completely different lizardman. Shasuryu’s head was awash with confusion. Had Zaryusu been held back for some reason, forcing them to send another in his absence? No, that couldn’t be it–Zaryusu would never part from his pet except under the most dire circumstances. Which meant that the most likely explanation was… A lump formed in Shasuryu’s throat, only growing in intensity as he saw dozens of other lizardmen cross the horizon behind Rororo, arranged in an extended line and armed with weapons. To his surprise, Shasuryu found that the idea of an invasion force closing in on his tribe was less upsetting than the idea of something happening to his brother, and that surprise was followed by a feeling of revulsion at his selfishness. He was the chieftain of his tribe, and that meant he had responsibilities. Steeling himself as best as he was able, Shasuryu marched forward directly towards the oncoming force. As Rororo came closer, Shasuryu was finally able to make out the identity of his rider. The distant silhouette hadn’t done him justice. He was a good two heads taller than Shasuryu, at least, and had the muscle to match. Particularly in his right arm, so disproportionately thick that he looked almost monstrous. It matched all the descriptions he’d heard–there was no doubt that this was Zenberu Gugu, leader of the Dragon Tusk tribe. His intentions certainly didn’t seem positive, if the treatment of the woman behind him was any indication. She was bound up in a lattice of ropes and stocks, and he could see that a gag had been placed in her mouth, though she didn’t need to speak to convey how she felt about the situation. It only took a glance at her face to see how distressed she was, though she wasn’t crying, being the strong woman she was. It looked more like an expression of worry, of concern. Shasuryu didn’t have long to analyze it before Zenberu reached back and grabbed her, slinging her over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Then, he slung his leg over Rororo’s side and hopped down to the ground, landing directly in front of Shasuryu. Standing at his full height like this, the differences between them couldn’t be more evident; Shasuryu had to crane his neck up to even look Zenberu in the eye. Still, if Zenberu noticed it, he certainly didn’t show it. He just grinned, as friendly as if he weren’t committing a blatant act of war. “I am Zenberu Gugu, chief of the Dragon–” “I already know who you are,” Shasuryu cut in, staring the other lizardman down. All the confusion and suppressed worry he’d been feeling had given way to a kind of surreal calm, where even such a glaringly rude action seemed completely natural. Accompanying it was an undercurrent of rage that, for the moment, Shasuryu kept in check. Zenberu’s eyes widened for a moment at the interruption, but he recovered quickly. “Is that so? Would you grant me the same honour, then?” “Shasuryu Shasha.” Zenberu’s grin split wider and his eyes narrowed, that exterior of faux-friendliness giving way to what felt like a far more honest expression, one which wore its predatory nature on its sleeve. “The brother of Zaryusu, I presume.” Shasuryu had been trying to maintain a cool expression, but Zenberu’s words caused it to crack, his face starting to draw back into a scowl for a second or two before he caught himself. “You are correct.” “I suppose I don’t have to tell you what’s become of him, then?” Anger and violent grief fought for space in Shasuryu’s chest. Zenberu’s words had at once confirmed his fears and mocked him with them, and it was a feat of self control that he didn’t immediately tear into the other lizardman with his claws upon hearing them. He balled his hands into fists and grit his teeth, but no response came from his lips–if he forced himself to say a single word, he had no idea what the result would be. But Zenberu had no such reservations, and upon seeing that Shasuryu wasn’t going to say anything, he continued. “If you’ve no taste for small talk, I’ll get right to the point. Your tribe is weak, and I intend to conquer it.” Shasuryu opened his mouth to speak, but Zenberu held up a hand to silence him. “But,” he continued, “I am aware that you other tribes are more… averse to bloodshed, than us. So, I offer you this: “I will fight you, one-on-one. Should you win, my men will withdraw from your lands. Should I win, you will cede your tribe to me, including its land, its possessions, and its people.” Shasuryu just stared at him, expecting there to be more to it than that. But there wasn’t–Zenberu had challenged him to a duel for the continued existence of his tribe like any other man would ask about the weather. After a few seconds, Shasuryu collected himself enough to offer a response. “To the death, I assume?” The corners of Zenberu’s grin twitched a touch higher at that. “The loser’s life will be forfeit to the winner.” Shasuryu could feel his resolve flicker at that. Not at the idea of dying, of course–Shasuryu would gladly give his life for the continued survival of his tribe. The problem was that, in this case, dying wouldn’t do any such good. The only thing it would accomplish would be the destruction of the Green Claws. If he wanted to save his people, he needed to win, and he wasn’t entirely sure of his chances when his opponent was nearly twice his size and no doubt just as skilled in combat as he was, if not more so. He glanced back over his shoulder, and could see the rest of the tribe crowded up at the edge of the village. The men were at the front, forming something of a protective ring around the rest, most looking ready for a fight if things went in such a direction. The others were staring at him, anxiously waiting to hear what his decision would be. They were all depending on him. It wouldn’t do to refuse Zenberu’s challenge and force the entire tribe into conflict when there was any chance that he’d be able to resolve it alone. Such an act would be selfish, cowardly. So, for the sake of his tribe and his honour, Shasuryu turned back to face Zenberu with an expression of renewed confidence. “I accept your terms.” Zenberu shrugged, rolling the bound form of Crusch off of his shoulder and into the grip of one oversized hand before letting her drop to the ground. She let out a grunt as her front slammed into the dirt, but the sound was muffled by the gag jammed into her mouth. Though she wriggled a fair bit, her restraints seemed to prevent her from even manoeuvring herself into a sitting position, let alone escaping. “You’re as wise as your brother was. Draw your weapon, and let’s begin.” --- The two chieftains stood across from one another, their respective tribesmen behind them watching with either thinly concealed nervousness or barely restrained excitement. Shasuryu held his sword out in front of him with both hands, a blade nearly as long as he was tall. It was made out of steel, a rarity among the lizardmen, and was a respectable weapon even by the standards of the more advanced races. Possession of such a weapon was a mark of both authority and strength. Though any awe it might’ve drawn was offset by Zenberu’s own equipment. He was holding a halberd, made of equally fine steel, though the head of it was grossly oversized compared to the polearms the lizardmen typically used and its shaft was a good three metres long. Any other lizardman would need both hands just to hold it, let alone think about using it. Zenberu was holding it in one, and was waving it through the air like it was nothing heavier than a feather. The fight had technically already begun; neither of them was waiting for a cue to attack the other. Shasuryu had gone into things with a cautious, defensive approach, circling around his opponent from a distance. He’d expected the other chieftain to throw himself into the fight with reckless abandon. It’d be simple for him to advantage of such a strategy, and he’d stand fair chance at winning even if he was outmatched in terms of sheer strength. Unfortunately, that was not what Zenberu had done. He’d hardly even moved from where he stood, apparently content on staying put and waiting for Shasuryu to make the first move. He didn’t even seem particularly concerned with defence, instead busying himself by idly swinging his weapon through the air, testing its heft. It was as if, to him, his victory was already a foregone conclusion. Eventually, given no choice but to either wait endlessly or make his move, Shasuryu started his approach. He took slow, cautious steps towards his opponent, still holding onto the hope that he’d make some mistake that he’d be able to take advantage of. If Zenberu did, then he didn’t see it. The other lizardman shot forward with such dizzying speed that Shasuryu was only just able to bring up his sword in a block, breaking a swing from that halberd which no doubt would’ve cleaved his head from his shoulders. The swing was quickly followed by another, identical strike, then another. The ferocity behind them made Shasuryu’s arms feel like they were going to be ripped from their sockets, and he was sent staggering backwards, initially from the force of the blows, but then just to put some distance between him and his opponent. Zenberu didn’t allow it. Tossing his weapon to the side, he kept right on Shasuryu’s toes, launching blow after blow into his defences with no more than his bare fists. Oddly enough, being weaponless didn’t seem to make his attacks any easier to block–if anything, they seemed even more difficult to endure. They had all the weight behind them that the halberd’s swings had had, but they came even closer together, such that Shasuryu had no choice but to put all his focus and energy into maintaining his defence. Seeing that there was no hope for victory unless he changed the situation, Shasuryu altered his strategy. Instead of trying to block the next swing, he ducked, simultaneously bringing his sword around in a sideways chop. It didn’t work. As if he’d expected it, Zenberu grabbed his arm, arresting his swing in midair. He used it to yank Shasuryu up into the air, holding the other lizardman up with a single hand, which left his other free to slam itself into Shasuryu’s chest and gut. The strikes were rapid; by the time Shasuryu had even thought of the idea of kicking out with his legs, a dozen punches had already beaten the wind out of him, and Zenberu had sent him flying through the air with a casual toss. He collided harshly with the ground, crumpling into a heap. “Is that all you have to offer, chieftain?” Zenberu said, spitting the last word like an insult. “I’m disappointed. At least your brother offered something of a challenge.” Shasuryu tried to crawl back to his feet, but found himself able to do little more than push himself onto his hands and knees–his body ached from all the blows he’d taken, and that final toss seemed to have stolen the last bits of strength from his limbs. Still, he refused to give up. With limbs shaking like grass in the breeze, he reached out and grabbed the handle of his sword with one hand, muscles straining to lift the blade that, no more than a minute ago, he’d been handling with ease. Zenberu watched for awhile, then stepped forward and kicked the sword’s pommel, yanking it out of Shasuryu’s grip and sending it skittering across the ground and out of his reach. After a second or two of staring at his empty hand, processing what’d just happened, Shasuryu looked up. Zenberu was looming over him, giving him a grin that was far too toothed to be anything friendly. Shasuryu didn’t maintain that stare for long, instead choosing to drop his eyes down to the ground before shutting them tight, awaiting the blow that would end the fight for good. Such a blow never came. Instead, the sound of Zenberu yelling over his shoulder at the men behind him met his ears. “This fight is over. Go and take what you will.” There was no hesitation on their part. As soon as the order had left Zenberu’s mouth, the lizardmen were charging forward, near sprinting in an effort to reach the village and the spoils within. The crowd parted around the two of them, leaving Zenberu and Shasuryu in a small island in a sea of green scales and slavering jaws. The sound of the stampeding footsteps was quickly joined by the sounds of screaming. Shasuryu didn’t look back towards it. He couldn’t, because the hand of Zenberu had clasped itself around the underside of his jaw, jerking his head up and forcing him to look the larger lizardman in the eye. He still wore that same fierce grin, somehow all the more worrisome now that he’d demonstrated his intentions weren’t violent. “I’m not going to kill you,” Zenberu said. The words brought Shasuryu little comfort. “After that performance, you aren’t deserving of a warrior’s death.” Shasuryu found it difficult to think of a response, and not purely because of the pain of the battle still thrumming through his body, but because of something else. A feeling was beginning to build inside him, one that he’d felt precious little of before, even when he’d been faced with what he was certain was his own death: fear. He quashed it down as best as he was able, and managed to eke out a handful of nervous words in reply. “Then you will...?” “Take you as my prize,” Zenberu said, picking up where Shasuryu had trailed off. Before Shasuryu could utter a single word in response, he felt the other lizardman’s hands shift to his shoulders, flipping him onto his back. He let out a pained hiss as his back slammed into the dirt, the impact turning dull aches into fresh stinging agonies that were enough to have him screw his eyes shut. When he’d collected himself and allowed them to peek open, he was greeted to the sight of Zenberu standing over his supine form, a foot planted on either side of his chest. It was a position that made the lizardman look bigger and thus even more intimidating, to his great surprise–such a thing hardly seemed possible. More concerning than his size, though, was what he was was doing with his claws. They’d gone to the back of his loincloth, and after a moment of fiddling with the knot there, pulled the fabric off and away from his body. He dropped it to the ground beside him, leaving him standing proud with his slit bared for all the world to see. Shasuryu was certainly getting an eyeful of it–and the bit of pink that was just beginning to poke free from its confines did nothing to ameliorate the gnawing feeling in his gut. “And of course,” Zenberu continued, lowering himself onto his knees over Shasuryu’s chest. The position left the smaller lizardman’s face near buried between his legs, his muzzle mere inches away from that slit, the contents of which were gradually working their way free into the open air. Shasuryu caught a hint of its scent, and his nose wrinkled in distaste. “I’ll take you in the way I take all my prizes.” With that, Zenberu grabbed the back of Shasuryu’s head, forcing it forward until his muzzle was pressed flush against his crotch. Taken off-guard by the sudden motion, Shasuryu drew a sharp breath through his nose, and the effects of his mistake were immediate–the glancing whiff he’d caught before suddenly became all he could smell, the stench of the other male’s musk burning into his nostrils as soon as he inhaled it. Shasuryu’s experience with other males in this particular area was limited. He rarely even saw them naked, save for the occasional glimpse during bathing, so he’d certainly never smelled one before. The scent was a lot like his own, but with it being as powerful as it was, he was able to pick out the differences. A slight spiciness that he’d never noticed in himself, and a whole assortment of far more subtle notes that were difficult to describe, but left absolutely no doubt that this was the musk of another male he was inhaling. Shasuryu moved his arms, intending to push Zenberu away, but his injured body couldn’t muster the necessary speed. Before he could do anything, Zenberu’s hands had moved to intercept him, pinning his wrists to the ground. At the same time, he moved his hips forward, his groin pushing Shasuryu’s head back until it was pinned down against the ground while his muzzle was pressing ever more firmly against Zenberu’s slit. “Now now, Shasuryu,” Zenberu said, continuing to grind himself leisurely against the weakly struggling lizardman beneath him. His shaft was slipping free at a steady pace, sliding across the top of Shasuryu’s snout, leaving a trail of moisture and further polluting the air with his heady scent all the while. “I should think you’d be more grateful. You do owe me your life, after all!” Shasuryu, unable to think of any response that’d let him retain his dignity in such a situation, merely growled. Zenberu ground himself against the other lizardman’s face for a bit longer, making sure to rub his nostrils right against where his slit gave way to the base of his cock while his tip drooled across the top of his muzzle. All the while, that scent burned itself ever more strongly into Shasuryu’s nose, leaving the male’s musk the only thing he was able to smell. Eventually, though, Zenberu pulled away, and Shasuryu was finally able to see his cock in its full glory. He’d expected it to be bigger than his own, given the size difference between them in every other regard, but having a vague idea of its size was far different than actually seeing it. It had to be nearly a foot long, complete with a thickness that easily matched the rest of him. That thickness was particularly prominent around the base, where the bulge of what was clearly a knot rested. “I think it’s time we move along to the main event,” Zenberu said, shifting his legs down until his knees were on either side of Shasuryu’s thighs, his huge, dripping erection drooling a thick trail of pre across the smaller lizardman’s stomach. “Don’t you?” Zenberu shifted his hips down, bringing the tip of his cock between Shasuryu’s legs. It glanced across the base of his tail, but rather than seeking out the hole there, it continued to move upwards, poking around between his thighs in a blind search for an entrance. Shasuryu’s eyes widened as the realisation of what Zenberu had in mind sunk in. He was hardly ignorant of sex between males, even if he’d never participated in it himself–he did have a wife, after all–but as far as he knew, that was always done anally. But as Zenberu’s head came to a rest against his slit and pressed against it with an insistence that left little room for debate, Shasuryu had a feeling that Zenberu either didn’t know that or knew far better than he did when it came to dominating other males. Either way, it seemed like Zenberu was set on taking him like a female, regardless of his anatomy. Even the thought filled Shasuryu with dread. He couldn’t imagine it being anything but painful–the space was already occupied, and considering Zenberu’s size, he doubted he’d have enough room even if it was empty. So his body reacted in the only way that seemed appropriate: his muscles all went stiff as iron, his claws dug into the dirt below, and his teeth grit together, as if he’d somehow be able to prevent anything from happening if he tensed down hard enough. That didn’t go unnoticed by Zenberu, who let out a chuckle as he felt the smaller lizardman go stiff beneath him. “I’d recommend relaxing. It’s going in one way or another.” But he didn’t give Shasuryu even a second to do so before he was pushing forward, the tapered head of his cock easily piercing the lips of his slit. The first half-inch of the chieftain’s cock sunk in with ease, but past that, the thickness increased sharply. Shasuryu’s muscles clenched tight around the invader, grinding progress to a temporary halt–though one that wasn’t at all unappreciated, if the pleasured growl that Zenberu gave off was any indication. But Shasuryu wasn’t having anywhere near as good a time. The inside of his slit was, as with any lizardman, incredibly sensitive. Even having the head of Zenberu’s cock inside of it was lighting up his nerves like a Christmas tree, the feeling of his slit being spread open and having something work its way inside unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Moreover, it wasn’t anything he’d ever wanted to experience–the over-stimulation was enough to have him squirming. “Nff! Stop!” Shasuryu shouted, feet kicking out and sending up small clouds of dust where they struck the earth. “I will do what I want with my property,” Zenberu said, pausing to let out a grunt as he shoved himself another inch inside of the other lizardman’s slit. The high-pitched cry it drew out of Shasuryu in response was music to his ears. Zenberu dipped his head low, bringing his muzzle right next to Shasuryu’s before letting his tongue slip out of his mouth, dragging it up along his cheek in a long, wet lick. The act made Shasuryu want to spit out a curse, but instead he let out an almost feminine whine, the sound forced out of him despite his best efforts to suppress it as Zenberu slid even further inside of him. The lizardman had forced a fair amount of his shaft inside of him now, and was now more than deep enough for what Shasuryu had been dreading to occur: the head of his member, held safe deep inside his body, was now pressed up against the tip of Zaryusu’s invading cock. The contact was slight, almost as if they were kissing. From the wicked grin on Zenberu’s face, though, it was obvious he didn’t intend to keep it that way. After a throb from the larger lizardman brought with it a spurt of pre that washed over the head of his dormant cock and drooled deep into his slit, he started pushing deeper once again. Shasuryu let out a screech, thrashing against the hands pinning him to the ground, but it was a useless gesture. Zenberu was far too strong for him to break free, and the extra lubrication provided by his precum meant that there was nothing he could do to halt his progress. Shasuryu’s screams doubled in intensity as Zenberu’s thick cock started to move deeper, pressing his own maleness off to the side of his slit with crushing tightness. “Shut up for a second,” Zenberu growled, shifting his hand from one of Shasuryu’s wrists over to his face, clamping his muzzle shut. “Listen.” Left with little choice, Shasuryu did so. With his own noises out of the picture, it was all to easy to hear what was going on in the distance. Dozens of voices, male and female, all merging together into one. Every one of them was screaming, just like he’d been mere seconds ago. “That’s the sound of my tribe enjoying your people,” Zenberu said, speaking with no small amount of relish. “All of them are going through what you’re going through now. Something to ponder, eh?” Zenberu’s hand released his muzzle, grabbing his free wrist and returning to its former position. Shasuryu immediately started to speak. “You–” His words were cut off by a strangled cry as Zenberu thrust into him once again, harder than before. It had enough force behind it to force nearly all of the lizardman’s shaft inside of him, leaving out only the knot, which butted up against the widely-stretched lips of his slit. Filled with so much of his enemy’s cock, Shasuryu’s own member was left with no room for itself, pushed cruelly to the side. It was a mixture of stretching and tightness, both occurring simultaneously, both equally painful. Yet alongside the pain was something else–a familiar building sensation, subtle and near unnoticeable, but building in intensity with every passing moment. Shasuryu ignored it, either unwilling to acknowledge it or hoping that it would dissipate before he was forced to confront it. Finally having managed to fit all of himself inside of Shasuryu, though, Zenberu was showing no signs of slowing down. Zenberu yanked himself halfway out of Shasuryu’s slit, a thick drool of pre escaping and running down along the base of his tail from the motion, then slammed himself back to where he was with one solid thrust. The act crushed Shasuryu’s cock back inside of his body and spread the walls of his slit open far more harshly than his initial entry, sending a jolt of pain through his body, along with something else–what could no longer pretend was anything but a sick, unwilling wave of pleasure. A squeak forced its way out of him, far higher than any noise that’d come out of him previously. “Enjoying yourself?” Zenberu said, looking down at him with a pleased grin, drool starting to leak out from between his clenched teeth. “You know, I was planning on killing most of you after we were finished here. If you pledge yourself to me, though, perhaps I’ll only take them as slaves.” A few metres away from the two, muffled noises started to fill the air, alongside the sounds of straining rope. Crusch was still just where Zenberu had left her, forced to hear and watch everything that’d been happening without the ability to do anything about it. She had initially tried to push everything away, to pretend she was somewhere else, but those words yanked her back to reality. If Shasuryu took that offer, Zenberu would have control of the Green Claw tribe. None of them would dare disobey an order from their chieftain, after all, even if he was just being used as a puppet by the Dragon Claw. She wanted to tell him not to do it, to hold on and find some other way to rescue his people. With the gag in her mouth, though, it was all reduced to so much meaningless noise. “No response?” Zenberu said, looking down at the panting, whimpering form of Shasuryu, squirming around the thick length jammed into his slit. “I’ll let you think on it. We’ve got plenty of time, after all.” With that, he pulled himself out, slamming back in a moment later as he resumed his rapid pace. Shasuryu squirmed and hissed beneath him, continuing to struggle even as his cries sounded increasingly less pained. In. Out. In. Out. Crusch could do nothing but watch as Zenberu continued to violate Shasuryu, slowing down, speeding up, taking his time to pace himself and make things last as long as possible. Shasuryu’s struggles got gradually weaker as time went on. His arm jerking was the first thing to go, the knowledge that he couldn’t break Zenberu’s grip finally sinking in. Next were his legs, stopping their kicking and instead settling into place on either side of Zenberu. Now whenever Zenberu thrust in, Crusch could see Shasuryu’s knees squeeze in, as if he were trying to keep him inside. It didn’t seem like a conscious act–still, Crusch’s heart sunk at what an instinctive reaction like that implied. “So, have you thought about my offer?” Zenberu said, now panting openly, clearly approaching his peak. Shasuryu offered no coherent reply, only a moan as Zenberu thrust in once more. “I see,” Zenberu said, looking quite pleased with the response. “Well, I have just one question then.” Zenberu pulled out just an inch, then slammed forward once again, battering his quickly swelling knot against Shasuryu’s slit. “Who owns you?” Shasuryu said nothing, just tried desperately to catch his breath while countless small noises escaped him, shivering all the while. Crusch looked on desperately, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t say anything. But Zenberu didn’t seemed pleased with his silence. Letting out a snarl, he pulled out again, slamming back into place even harder than before. He ground into Shasuryu, feeling the lips of his slit start to stretch even wider around his knot. When he spoke again, it was louder, angrier. “Who owns you?!” Still no response, but Shasuryu was looking up at him now, tears in his eyes and mouth agape as if he wanted to say something but the words just wouldn’t come out. Zenberu grinned, pulling back and giving one more slit-battering thrust with his knot. He didn’t even need to ask the question before Shasuryu spoke in a quiet, trembling voice, sounding like he was going to break down any second. “Zenberu Gugu.” “Louder!” Zenberu shouted, pressing his knot forward with all his weight. “Zenberu Gugu!” Shasuryu screamed, knees again pressing on Zenberu’s back, as if in some effort to help push his knot home. Crusch let her face drop to the ground at his words, silently crying. With one mighty shove, Zenberu forced the bulge of his knot into the confines of Shasuryu’s slit. The fit had been tight before, but this was enough to draw a moan from even Zenberu’s lips–the way he squeezed around his knot was utterly unlike any woman he’d ever been with. It was a feeling that only got stronger as his knot swelled, spreading Shasuryu the wider than he’d ever imagined while simultaneously locking them together at the hips. Shasuryu let out a continuous, high-pitched whine, unable to stop himself. Even with his knot already inside, Zenberu was continuing to thrust into him with short, powerful motions, every one of them grinding his shaft under the chieftain’s own larger cock. It was hardly the most comfortable thing in the world, but that wasn’t the worst part of it. Worse than any pain he felt was the fact that, despite the fact that his slit was crammed so full that he couldn’t even get an erection, it felt good. Regardless of how he felt about the situation, the aggressive frotting and simultaneous stimulation of the entirety of his slit was driving him inexorably towards his peak. “Not to worry, Shasuryu,” Zenberu said, words interspersed with heavy pants. “I promise we’ll take excellent care of your women. And your men, too!” Before Shasuryu could muster a response–if he even had the capability to do so, with the state that he was in–Zenberu lunged forward, jaws flying open. They weren’t open long, though, for a second later, they were clamping shut around his shoulder. It was something that any lizardman would easily recognize: a mating bite. But whereas most men would be satisfied with the gesture and not put much force behind it, Zenberu clearly didn’t hold any such compunctions. Shasuryu could feel the jagged teeth that he sported digging into him, pushing through his scales and leaving deep gouges that quickly welled up with blood. Zenberu let out a growl, his dick throbbing inside Shasuryu’s slit and his knot growing larger still. A second later, Shasuryu felt it–an explosion of warmth inside him, washing over his smaller member. Zenberu was cumming inside him, and he could feel it flooding every inch of his slit, more and more of it surging into him with every pulse of the chieftain’s cock. To his great shame, the crushing pressure of Zenberu’s shaft against his combined with the slick heat filling up his insides was enough to push him over the edge, in spite of the pain of the bite. Shasuryu let out an involuntary noise, a tremolo cry that sounded embarrassingly similar to a mating call, as his own orgasm hit. It wasn’t violent–his cock barely even had room to twitch, pressed as tight against the walls of his slit as it was–but it was an orgasm nonetheless, his seed dribbling out to join the rest of the stuff packed inside him. Shasuryu laid there, shivering, Zenberu’s knot keeping him packed full of their mixed seed. Zenberu relaxed his jaws, releasing his grip on Shasuryu’s shoulder, then pulled his head back so their eyes could meet. He stared down at him, trickles of blood rolling off of his teeth and down his lips. Then, he leaned down, pressing his muzzle up against Shasuryu’s. His tongue pushed forward and found no resistance from the smaller lizardman’s slack jaw, easily slipping into his mouth. Shasuryu groaned and tried to twist away, but Zenberu’s hands shot out to grab hold of his head, keeping it set firmly in place while his tongue continued to work deeper into his muzzle. It wrestled with Shasuryu’s own, wrapping around it and pinning it down, occasionally releasing it to lap at the inside of his mouth. It brought with it the taste of Zenberu, accompanied by the coppery tang of his own blood, and Shasuryu couldn’t help but shudder. Eventually, Zenberu pulled his tongue free of Shasuryu’s mouth, giving the front of his muzzle a parting lick before he pulled away. Shasuryu gave a wince in response, and Zenberu chuckled at the sight. “Aw, you didn’t like it?” Zenberu said, grinning as he reached down towards their linked groins with one hand. Shasuryu could feel his finger dragging against his scales, the tip of it tracing along the lips of his slit, spread wide around the root of Zenberu’s cock. “Maybe you’ll have more of a taste for this, then.” Before Shasuryu could ask what Zenberu meant, that hand was moving up towards his face, fingers outstretched. He could now see what Zenberu had been doing: his digits were coated with a thick, whitish fluid, a mixture of all the pre and mixed fluids that’d been forced out of Shasuryu’s slit while Zaryusu had been pounding him. Before he could react, they were pushing past his mouth and into his muzzle, seeking out his tongue and rubbing across it to ensure that he had no choice but to taste it. Shasuryu’s face scrunched up. The flavour of his own slit was there, certainly–something that he was only familiar with by scent and certainly had no desire to taste–but primarily, what he tasted was Zenberu. The same musk that he’d been forced to smell earlier was now coating his tongue, and it was definitely the far worse of the two experiences. It was at least thrice as powerful tasting it as it was smelling it, and it was accompanied by the salty, bitter tang of the other lizardman’s seed, both flavours seeming to burn themselves into his taste buds. Zenberu pulled his fingers free of his mouth, and Shasuryu immediately moved to spit, but the larger lizardman’s hand moved to clamp his muzzle shut. “Ah-ah-ah,” Zenberu said, smiling down at his disgusted expression. “Swallow it. I want you to get used to the taste. After all, you’re going to be tasting it a whole lot more after this, aren’t you?” --- Zenberu was right: that’d be only the first time he sampled his prize. The whole day would be filled with it, Shasuryu enduring the appetites of the Dragon Tusk chieftain as Crusch watched, all of them surrounded by the same happening to the rest of the Green Claw tribe. He hadn’t stopped at merely violating his body, either: after violating him for a third time, Zenberu had lifted Shasuryu up onto his feet and took him for a short walk towards the village, keeping a hand clamped on his shoulder to prevent him from running away or, more likely with his shaky legs, keeling over. The sights were nothing that Shasuryu hadn’t already expected, but that didn’t make them any easier to endure. The women of his tribe were strewn about the sides of the road, each one being brutally used by a Dragon Tusk warrior, some even being shared by several. Zenberu stopped him in front of each and every one, and when he did, they’d look up at him. Their eyes would often brighten at the sight of him, the sight of their chieftain instinctively linked with safety in their minds, before the presence of Zenberu beside him reminded them that he had no safety to offer. The response from that point varied. Some of them would look away, either out of continued deference to their leader or embarrassment at what’d become of him. Others would fix him with an angry glare, enraged at what he’d allowed to pass. The rarest were the ones who gave him a sad expression, sympathetic to what he was going through even while they were busy suffering through much of the same. Those were the worst. They reminded him that, despite his loss, at least some of his tribe still respected him as a leader. It made the pain of having failed them sting all the more harshly. As they passed by all the women, though, Shasuryu couldn’t help but wonder where all the men of his tribe had gone. He wasn’t left wondering long. As they approached the centre of the village, shouting that sounded less pained and more angry met Shasuryu’s ears. When they passed by a cluster of huts, the source of the noise came into sight: perhaps a dozen lizardmen, wielding whatever items they could get their hands on that could serve as weapons, surrounded on all sides by a crowd of more properly armed warriors. Apparently, some of the Green Claw had managed to avoid getting captured in the start of the raid and were now making a last stand. Zenberu stopped a couple yards away, and Shasuryu was torn on what to do. He wanted to charge forward and join them, but without a weapon and weakened as he was, it was doubtful he’d be able to offer any sort of help even if he managed to get close enough. With Zenberu standing right next to him, he wasn’t even able to shout out encouragement, lest he incur the lizardman’s wrath. So he just stood there silently, trying his best not to look nervous. The Dragon Tusks charged forward, and the shouting doubled in intensity, joined by the sounds of weapons slamming against each other. Zenberu had hoped to see his men manage to cause their enemy a fair amount of damage, even if they didn’t manage to win the fight, but there was no such luck. It could hardly even be called a battle, so much as a massacre. Outnumbered and underequipped as they were, the Green Claws were struck down in a matter of minutes. Shasuryu did notice something odd about the fight, though: despite the fact that they’d had ample opportunity to gore and maim their opponents, the Dragon Tusks never seemed to strike lethal blows, instead opting for blunt strikes and take downs. The reasons behind that quickly became evident. As his tribesmen fell to the ground, Shasuryu saw their opponents dive down after them, pinning them down. Once the whole of the group had been subdued, the grunts of resistance and struggle took on a different tone, and wet noises began to fill the air. It was clear that those men, those strong warriors that Shasuryu had led and fought alongside, were now being raped in front of him. It wasn’t surprising–it would be foolish to expect any other outcome. Still, whether he’d expected it or not, the sight was still just as heart wrenching. “I think you’d best join your men,” Zenberu said, pushing Shasuryu face-down into the dirt. “Don’t you agree?” When Zenberu dropped down on top of him, grabbing hold of his tail and forcing it up out of the way, Shasuryu didn’t even bother resisting. --- Crusch laid on her back, protected from the ground only by a thin layer of straw, her belly swollen out to a gravid dome above her. Time had grown somewhat difficult to keep track of, what with her being confined to her hut while she was carrying eggs. She still had a grasp on the larger scale of things–she knew that that it’d been some months since the Dragon Tusk had subsumed the Green Claw, for example–but it was the hours where things became tricky. She could only guess the time of day by the meagre light that made its way through the doorflap of the hut. She craned her head up towards it. Stood in front of it was Shasuryu, standing guard as much to prevent anyone from coming in as to prevent her from going out. He was the picture of attention, standing tall and with bright eyes ready to pick up on any suspicious activity. She might’ve almost called him proud, were it not for the thick leather collar strapped around his neck, the gag shoved in his mouth, and the bite scar on his shoulder, all of which marked him all too clearly as the property of someone else. Then again, perhaps he maintained his pride in spite of these things. Perhaps he maintained it because of them. Shasuryu had changed much since his defeat–he’d always shown unquestioning compliance, having sworn such on that one fateful day, but he hadn’t shown any sort of eagerness for his position in the beginning. That’d come gradually, worked out of him through days of hard labour and equally hard nights with Zenberu, many of which she’d either been forced to watch or participate in. Now, he was little more than an eager lapdog. Crusch let her head drop back down. Most of the time, she felt pity for him. Sometimes, she was disgusted by him. Only on rare occasions did she envy him, how he could find even a hint of purpose or joy in a situation where she could only find listless misery interspersed with bouts of sharp suffering whenever Zenberu felt fit to use her. But she never let those feelings linger too long. She’d always try to push them out and replace them with the hope that someone would come to defeat Zenberu, to rescue her and the rest of the lizardmen he’d subjugated. As time wore on with no signs of change, though, that hope grew harder and harder to muster, and the only thing that’d replace the envy would be a sense of despair and ennui. Before she could slip into such a state again, though, something shocked her. A jolt of motion from inside her swollen middle, followed by an uncomfortable pressure that steadily grew in intensity. She instinctively tensed at the sensations, but caught off-guard as she was, she didn’t realise what was going on until she felt liquid trickling between her thighs and over the base of her tail. Then, it hit her: the liquid was coming from her. She was going into labour. Crusch wasn’t sure how she was meant to feel. Relief at finally being free of the burden she’d been carrying around for so long? Horror at the thought of bringing her rapist’s children into the world? It was difficult to feel either of those; her mind was flooded by the sensations of her body preparing to lay, and that made it difficult to think anything at all. The discomfort she felt was growing, rapidly approaching the point of full-on pain. She raised her head again, hoping that Shasuryu would offer her some sort of comfort, but there was none to be found. He just stood in the same spot as always, staring at her without sympathy, only a guarded sort of interest. Another contraction rippled through her body, and her head dropped back to the ground, the sight of the lizardman disappearing behind the curve of her stomach. The egg shifted through her body at a glacial pace, spreading her insides open wider than she’d ever experienced even in her most violent violations. The pain fluctuated between overwhelmingly intense, making her body clench up so hard she couldn’t even bring herself to sob, and conspicuously absent, as if her body couldn’t handle it and had to temporarily block it from her mind just to continue. It was impossible to keep track of the rate the egg was moving at. Time seemed to slip away from her in great chunks whenever her attention wavered for even a second. All she knew was that things were moving far too slow for her tastes. It was in one of those increasingly brief moments of lucidity that something happened, something that managed to pull her attention away from her own body, if only slightly. The doorflap was pulled open from the outside, and Shasuryu gave only a brief glance to who’d done it before lowering his head and stepping aside, allowing them entrance. “Well, well!” Zenberu said, pushing his way into the hut. “Finally time to lay, is it?” Crusch was hardly in any condition to give a coherent reply. Still, when Zenberu moved across the room and took up a position on the floor behind her, she still had enough wits about her to try to angle herself away from him. Not that it did any good–he just grabbed her from under the shoulders, pulling her up and towards him until she was in a half-sitting position, flanked on either side by his legs and with her head pressed back against his chest. “I can’t wait to see our clutch,” Zenberu said, letting out a chuckle and while stroking up and down Crusch’s sides. His touch made her skin crawl, but there was nothing she could do, only lay there and continue trying to force out the eggs inside of her while Zenberu’s hands roamed across her body. And roam they did. His fingers trailed a path from her sides to her front, taking a moment to trace the curves of her chest before going lower yet, sliding over the huge bulge of her pregnant belly. They swirled across it, palms pressed up against tightly stretched scales and fingers digging into its surface while Zenberu let out a low, possessive growl. “Push,” Zenberu said, continuing to grope at her body all the while. Crusch hated the feeling of his hands, hated that she was carrying his children, hated the fact that he was here and forcing himself on her at her most vulnerable moment. Still, she had little choice but to do what he said. She pushed. Even the presence of Zenberu couldn’t keep her anchored to reality for long: time slipped away once again. She was plunged back into that strange feeling of not-quite-pain, a confusing, intense mixture of sensation that nonetheless left her completely aware of every inch the mass inside of her moved. Eventually, it finally reached its goal. The tip of an egg poked through the lips of her vagina, spreading them apart with agonizing slowness as it pushed its way through her tunnel, widening towards the bottom. “Ah, there it is!” Zenberu said, craning his head over her to look between her legs. “Took long enough, didn’t it?” Crusch said nothing, only gave off hisses and grunts of effort in between bouts of panting as she did her best to hurry the egg along. The thing was roughly a hand’s width at its widest, but pushing it out, she’d swear that it felt twice as big. It only got harder and harder as it got closer to the base, her lips stretching so wide around it that she was sure she’d tear–and then it was over. Once she’d passed the widest point, it slipped out of her, rolling across the ground a short distance before coming to a stop in a small heap of hay. She let out the breath she’d been holding, relaxing against the muscular body pressed up against her back, too exhausted to care about who it was. “Good work,” Zenberu said, moving a hand up to her face to stroke her cheek. “How many are left, do you think? Three? Four?” She didn’t have time to answer before another contraction rolled through her body, another egg coming right on the heels of the last, forcing a scream out of her throat. --- The answer was five. Crusch laid limp on the ground, breathing fast and shallow, having long since lost the strength to do anything else. Zenberu was crouched between her legs in front of the pile of eggs, holding one up to his face, inspecting its surface. “Not bad,” Zenberu said, then twisted around to face Shasuryu, holding the egg out towards him. “You. Take these to the nursery.” Shasuryu nodded, taking the egg and then moving forward to get the rest. When he bent down to pick them up, though, something stopped him: Crusch had sat up, and was now covering the pile of her eggs with her hands protectively. “No,” she said, voice still weak and raspy from birthing. “You can’t! They’re mine!” At that moment, it didn’t matter that they’d been the product of rape at the hands of the man who’d conquered everything she loved. They were her children, and she didn’t want them taken away. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to matter to Zenberu. He grabbed her wrists and wrenched her hands away, giving Shasuryu ready access to her clutch. “No!” Crusch screamed, forced to do nothing but watch as Shasuryu bent over and started gathering up her eggs. She yelled it a few more times, but by the time his arms were full and he was pushing his way out of the hut, it’d degenerated into nothing more than a mournful wail. “Aw, don’t feel bad,” Zenberu said, pinning her down and moving himself into position on all fours on top of her. “If you really want more children, I’m happy to provide!” Crusch looked down between his legs, and was greeted to the sight of his erection already completely emerged from his slit, dripping onto the raw, gaping folds of her pussy. That was when the horror of it all truly struck her: this was her life now. All her future held was getting bred by Zaryusu over and over, only stopping for her to bear his children, until he finally grew bored with her. She let out a desperate scream as he drove himself into her, one last cry for someone, anyone, to help her. Nobody came.