Archive > Charn > Whole Vore > Vanquishing of the Beast
Vanquishing of the Beast
Kerlon was taken, suddenly, while at his most vulnerable. The great, shaggy, gray furred beast had allowed himself a moment’s respite, splayed out on the great flat rock that faced south. He had closed his eyes for just a moment, letting the cool breeze tickle through his bristly mane, letting the sun slowly soak down into his pelt. The rock over looked a hill, and the smooth grass led down to a clear, babbling brook full of smooth stones and tasty, edible crab things. It was to be a very low key afternoon, spent relaxing after the most epic of battles earlier in the day.
Then, he felt the hoop around his neck. His eyes snapped awake, and he lunged to his feet, but it was too late. He had been captured. He snarled at the two bipedals who dared to try to harangue him - showing teeth as long as their fingers.
They seemed unphased, pulling and walking, dragging him towards that infernal hut. Damn bipedals and their pointless contrived buildings! All slippery floors, weird, musty smells, and terrible machines.
He would escape, though - nobody could take HIM! He pretended to walk with them, then feinted to the left, bolting to the side. The long metal stick that the two were holding onto went slack, twisted, and one of them was knocked to their side as he made a run for it. The larger of the two, though, the one that always smelled like machine grease, held fast.
“Oh, no you don’t!” She called out, but he did! Turning, bracing his feet, tail swishing majestically and growling his teeth again.
“Relax, Sandra”, the one who had fallen down said. She got up, both of them rabbits in the modern style, with trimmed ears and sleek haunches. Kerlon had allowed himself the amusement of contemplating what it would be like to sink his teeth into those deliciously meaty haunches of theirs. Occasionally, he even thought about sinking *other* things, bigger, more flexible things, between those haunches as well. It was obscene to think about, of course, but...
.. well, he *was* a wild animal, wasn’t he? Nevermind that tag jangling on his collar, or the chip imbedded behind his left shoulder, he was a proud, feral, wild beast!
And he was about to get a cookie.
He knew it would pay off. The one who had fallen down approached, a treat held up provocatively.
“Come on, now, Bega-three. Yes, yes, we interrupted nap time, but you shouldn’t be surprised.” She offered the bit off baked meat jerky-biscuit on a palm, and he snuffled at her wrist. Sandra smelled like metal and grease, but this one always smelled like cut grass. He deigned to lick the treat out of her paw.
It was sufficiently adequate that he allowed himself to be roped in, but he made sure that he snorted enough to let them know he was NOT pleased with such callous disregard for Nap Time.
“Thanks, Jizelle. Should help keep him calm. There we go, big guy, don’t worry, there’s a big treat at the end of this for ya. You really really SHOULDN’T have gone and eaten all those mud ferrets, though, that was fairly disrespectful of you.” Sandra chasized. “We were saving those for Grumpy. They’re HIS favorite snacks, you know.”
Not his problem. Kerlon had enjoyed gulping those slithering, wiggling tube cats, had enjoyed pouncing through the mud, snapping his jaws and pulling one meaty treat after another out, up into the air, to be snagged between hungry jaws and gulped down like fat, muddy noodles. So tasty. He licked his chops, smirking so smugly, and the bunnies rolled their eyes at his impudence.
He allowed himself to be led into the main building, past the desk and the big windowed work areas, with all the funny smelling vats and ozone and crackling science smells. His tail wagged, as they approached the kitchen, for there was so many different treats, there.
They turned left, instead.
They turned left, into hell.
He resisted, of course, but his feet slid on the smooth tiles as they pulled him. He was, easily, bigger than both of the bunnies, standing six feet at the fore shoulders and only slightly less at the butt, and his head and ears came up an additional foot and a half over that. No, he would not allow himself to be taken through this... torment, this evil place!
“Oh, come on, ya big baby,” Sandra teased, and he tried to twist away from her. She had a long leash, coming down from the ceiling,and he wasn’t about to let her hook that to his collar. No way, no how, uh-uh, that was so embarrassing last time, he wouldn’t let her!
The sound came from behind him, and Kerlon twisted around. He had miscounted the men! There she stood, sneaky and triumphant, with her paw on the leash that she had connected to his collar, without him noticing! He barked at her, angrily - this was not fair, this was cheating! But she stepped back and pressed a button on the wall. Oh, that smirk she had, that was HIS smirk, HE was the one who did what he wanted and got what he wanted and got to smirk at the turmoil that he caused to others! HE was the brat!
The leash was dragged forward, into the monstrous meat grinder known simply as “the Grooming Pit”. He hatsed it. He hatsed it so much. It was terrible, embarrassing, humiliating to the king of the world such as himself.
Still, it looked like he was completely trapped. There was no way to slip the collar. It dragged him inexorably forward, into the bubble room. The wolf growled, tail tucked, ears back as the floor beneath him rolled forward. A conveyor belt, REALLY?! So unnecessary. He had managed to break the machine, last time, but only because he could get pull against the leash, thrashing back and forth. Now, when he tried to pull back, the floor under him slid forward, faster, keeping him under the leash. When he bolted forward, it slid under him, maintaining his position. He would have barked his disapproval, but then, he was coated in warm, foaming GROSSNESS.
It saturated him, jets spraying thick, heavy foam down over his haunches, his head, his foam. He huffed, a puff of foam spraying away. It didn’t sting, when it drooled down into his eyes, but he shook his head anyways, slinging it this way and that.
Gloved appendages dug into the foam, coming from left and right, above, below, thick fingers working through foam and grimy, mud caked fur to scrub and scritch against the muscular hide underneath. HUFF. He was the KING. He did NOT get SCRITCHIES from ROBOTS.
He was going to learn how to write, and write a letter of complaint to the President about this unfair treatment. Worse than Guantanamo.
The hands worked through his pelt, some moving up, some down, some left and forward and right and back. He barked when one wrapped around his tail, LIFTED it, baring his backside to the world.
Fingers rubbed soap under his tail, where all of his best scents were kept.
And then they cupped his fat, dangling wolf jewels!
Admittedly, that didn’t feel bad, not at all - and it wasn’t anything other than his own long wolf tongue had touched them in the last couple of weeks, but there those fingers were, cupping and massaging, gently rubbing that foam into the smooth, heavy surfaces.
Another wrapped around his sheath! Kneading and squeezing, stroking at the big wolf’s length until he began to drop out, baring his engorged, red, half hard length to the air, to the technicians who were watching.
“Uhh.. did you initiate a milking protocol?” Sandra asked, frowning. She glanced at her watch.
“Well, sure. I mean, didn’t the Administrator say it was important to keep samples of all of our experiments?”
Sandra rolled her eyes. “Not like that. Not unless the experiment is going to be used commercially. She took a tablet from the wall, while Kerlon panted, eyes slitted, hunching lewdly into the air, into the paws that massaged him.
It wasn’t really all THAT bad, once you got past the impropriety of it all. The suds had soaked in, and had tickled at first, but now they just made him feel warm and loose and comfortable. His tongue lolled, the suds covered lupine grinding lewdly against those accommodating fingers, balls being kneaded gently, lifted and pulled and teased.
“There. We’ll get the RIGHT samples, now.”
Fingers slid away from the wolf’s equipment, leaving it hanging there, dripping suds and other fluids. He was close! How rude. His dick throbbed, still knotted, as the leash started moving, dragging him deeper into the machine.
Nozzles soaked him, spraying from this way and that, spraying in between the fur of his outer coat, blasting grime and soap suds away. He lifted a paw, then another, trying to wiggle away from the hard, penetrating sprays, but there was no relief! They rinsed him off, even briefly jetting up his rear end, getting a startled yelp from him. If he had not been so warm and comfortably relaxed from those suds from the last area, he would have no doubt been panicking. As it was, this was an inconvenience that left him dripping soggy and wet, hair hanging down, soggy and moplike. Hmph. It was warm, at least, not cold, so he wasn’t uncomfortable with it, but the suds had been better. He glanced behind, to check out his awesome caked on mud paint from earlier, but.. It was all gone. All the mud, all the scents he had been collecting for the last couple weeks, just washed away.
He would show them, though. He had seen a nice, thick, unspoiled patch of skunk cabbage, and he would be dolling himself up fifteen seconds after this was all over.
Tail wagging, he went into the next section. Warm air, this time, the vents extending to push into the fur, blowing the undercoat right out in a cloud of soggy fur. That felt good, admittedly, the air fluffing right through soggy dog pelt and against his skin. He barely heard the whirr of the clippers that were attached to the other vents, the sucking vents, that buzzed over his body. It was only after he felt a tug of fur that he glanced over, and yelped.
Well, not all of it! But it was buzzed down to nearly peach-fuzz level, showing off the thick haunches, the warm drying vents blowing over it to get him nearly crispy dry. Hmph! He had never been subjected to THIS! His fur was thick, regal, glorious, not some... some punk poodle’s wooly chaff.
Another blow vent blew over his sagging cock, and he twitched, the air tickling hotly against the naked flesh, still slick and wet from the suds earlier. It made his ear twitch, and when it came back again, his ear twitched again. He was going to have to rectify that...
He curled around, lifting a leg and going to give himself a lick - his shaft was rather ordinarily hard, just dangling fat and knotted and waiting, for he had been VERY close to sharing his royal seed when the hands had stopped playing with him! Before he could give himself a taste, though, he was dragged forward again. Huff.
He could see the door that led outside, again. This must be the last station. He tried to remember what it would be for, but honestly, after so many contrasting, intense sensations, he couldn’t quite get his thoughts together. His dick throbbed again, wanting licks. That was important.
Hands came back, and started rubbing him with some gleaming oil. The wolf was denuded, stripped of all his thick fluffy pelt, now looking like some kind of great dane or boxer, just a fine sheen. His muscles were quite evident, now, and he glanced over, to see the bunnies taking notes, staring at him studiously. He flexed his back legs, lowering his butt to let his dick nearly touch the groun. Look away, girls!
And then a hand wrapped back around his cock! He hunched instinctively, stabbing at the hand, and it wrapped around his knot, squeezing it. UNF, this slut wanted it bad!
Another hand wrapped around his testes, smooth and gleaming, gripping and pulling back on them, tugging them out so that they ached. The warm oil made his fur glisten, made his mind itch, the smell familiar, but peculiar. Where had he smelled it before. Some time recently, some time that had been fun, but where.. What...
He was casually hunching against that hand on his knot, letting his thoughts float on the scent he was being swaddled in, when the machine flicked a blade through the neck of his scrotum, severing his hefty testes and drawing them back to the sample drawer.
“Oh.” Jizelle said, swallowing. “You’re taking *that* kind of sample.”
Sandra smirked. “Much more source material to work from.”
Kerlon frowned, though he wasn’t sure why. He had felt.. Something. What, though? Hmm. It wasn’t really his concern, but he still felt he had the right to know. It was hard to figure anything out, though, with that hand tickling against his shaft. He was smeared, the oil gleaming, his body shimmering in the thickly layered scent, from the inside of his freshly scrubbed ears, to his tail, to the gleaming shaft that was finally released, still SOOO close, looking more inflamed than ever.
The door opened up, and Kerlon felt his leash detached. Oh. Just like that, eh?
The dopey wolf, sheared, trimmed, and cleaned to an impeccable degree, lifted a leg, marking one of the columns that some of the paws were attached to, then trotted back out into the sunlight. Hmph! Stupid bunnies, ruining his perfect nap just to give him a bath.
The sun seemed *sooo* bright, the lupine yawning widely, his swagger more of a stumble as he careened out into the wilderness. There was a large thing in front of him.
He couldn’t make out what it was, but, being the King of the Everything, Kerlon had no reason to be afraid. He wagged his slender, whip like tail, giggling at how easily it cut through the aiat fur on it, and padded over to the creature.
It laid on it’s belly, and Kerlon couldn’t really tell HOW big it was, but it was immense. Easily twenty feet from nose to butt. It didn’t seem to have any legs, just a shimmering, golden furred pelt, richly thick, exquisitely glossy. Kerlon almost felt a pang of jealousy, but the drugs in the oil he had been soaked in prevented feeling pangs of jealousy, or irritation, or fear, or pain... they just made him feel warm and dopey happy. He wandered right up to the creature, and lifted a paw. Pushed it right on the huge creature’s snout.
It stared at him, incredibly unamused. It sniffed the air, whiskers flexing forward, ears following suit. Regarding him more intimately, now - this was not one of the technicians, or one of the other experiments. This thing smelled like mud ferrets.
Kerlon, getting no reaction from the big creature, decided it was time to mark it as his own. He turned sideways, lifting a leg, and waited until his erection was just a LITTLE softer to pee. He could hold the leg for a second or two. His balls must just be too full. He would have to hump this thing, after he finished marking it.
A tongue licked his dick. And he grumbled. No, dummy. No licky the dick.
It licked again, and the wolf shuddered. Okay, you can lick it, but only once more. Just one more lick, he rationalized, for he was still QUITE riled up, his mind not having caught up with the realization that his balls were currently removed and being studied in a microscope.
Lick - only this time, that tongue licked all the way under the wolf’s belly, licking up and against the far side, the feline opening it’s mouth and lapping the wolf right into it!
Kerlon’s eyes went wider - well half wide, anyways, because this was all very pleasant feeling, as his lifted leg and belly went right into the big cat’s muzzle.
He turned his head, in time to see a huge paw unearth itself from underneath the monstrous kitty, lifting up and coming back down, over his shoulders! He was pinned!
Damn cats! It ground against his shoulder, rolling him onto his back, his leg almost coming free, and he peered down his near-hairless chest to see that big maw come back, swallowing up over BOTH legs, and butt, and most of his tummy!
He would have yelped, if he had thought to! As it was, his dick ground against the roof of the feline’s muzzle, and he pawed at the air, growling half heartedly. “Rrrr, I’m the king!” He demanded, but the cat didn’t seem to care!
It lifted his head up, and let gravity pull the king downwards! Forelegs scrabbling at the air, the confused, horny, neutered puppy slid down along that tongue, into the carnivore’s all-too-accommodating throat! He glanced back at the building, surely this was a mistake???
Apparently not, though! For there, coming out the front door, was himself! A copy! Just like him!
That would explain why he couldn’t remember anything before his LAST bath.
It kind of made sense! And then the cat gulped him up, teeth nibbling on forepaws and swallowing him down into a hungry kitty belly.
And Kerlon, 43rd King of Everything, was no more! And Kerlon, 44th King of Everything, found a nice, sun warmed dias to flop down on and call his throne. All is as it should be. :I
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Vanquishing of the Beast By Charn -- Report

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King Kerlon is used to having everything served to him, being the king that he is. So when his royal servents lead him to a great machine, he has no reason to suspect a thing.

A Very silly commission from long ago that I'm posting for Vore Week / Bad End week.

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