[Episode 235946] [Episode 235946]
Although his eyelids were shut, they twitched in a valiant effort to stay in the protective state that was known as a ‘coma’.
But it was a losing war on the efforts of Ranma’s body. As much as he wanted to stay unconscious and blissfully ignorant of the world around him, he could feel sunlight on his face... and an odd sensation around his waist. It was an odd mixture of ‘got to pee’ and ‘flying above the clouds’. He just hoped it ended better than the last time he felt it. He had awoken with his boxers open at the fly and Kasumi’s apron over his face.
Slowly allowing the sensations to pull him fully into the Real World and hoping he didn’t wake up to see a bald black man calling him The One, he felt a familiar call phrase enter his mind.
“Another unfamiliar ceiling,” he muttered.
He never said it was his call phrase.
He blinked his eyes as he felt movement on his lap. Looking down, Ranma saw that he was in a bed of some sort, definite refinery if the quality of the sheets, blanket, and the nightshirt he had on were of any significance towards that conclusion...
But what was of more immediate concern was that there was a definitely LARGE lump underneath the covers right in front of him, with a movement going up and down beneath the blankets right over his hips!
Tilting his head to the side, trying to determine if whatever that was under the covers was something he should stop—the flying feeling was definitely getting better—his hands slowly reached for the top edge of the fabrics covering his body and creating a soft and warm feeling, raising them slowly so as to not startle whatever was under those sheets.
Seeing two cat-like eyes staring back at him, bobbing up and down was definitely not what he had been expecting. He knew he should be doing... something, but for some reason, thought was becoming harder and... harder and... and...
And...
...
......
What was he thinking about again?
There was a very loud purring coming from underneath the blankets just then, making the pigtailed martial artist rear his head back as it literally sent a feeling of ‘good vibrations’ right up his spine, shooting from his hips and going up to the base of his skull and down to the tip of his tail, which was now twitching rapidly.
Some small part of his mind pondered why he wasn’t freaking out at such a cat-like sound, that he should be clinging to the ceiling and looking towards dealing and/or escaping from said demon. That part however, was drowned under the melted portion of brain that was being destroyed by the happy sensations from below the waist.
Finally, a bright light appeared before his eyes, as if a deity was being revealed before him, as all his thoughts paused for one moment, as he became one with the universe. A slight coughing sound interrupted the purring from under his blanket, but he was far too immersed with Inner Peace to care.
“It’s... glorious...” Ranma said as he finally started to come back down. “Did I... did I go to heaven?”
“Awww...” came a very cute and petite-sounding feminine voice from beneath the covers. “The God-King believes I’m heaven? Oh, I’m very flattered, your Majesty.”
It took his mind several seconds to realize just where he was and develop a pretty good idea what had just occurred—if those new Neko-Ken memories were anything to go by.
“Juts let me clean you up a bit, my Liege. You let out a lot more than I was expecting and it would be wrong to let it go to waist when there are starving catgirls in the lowlands with none to eat.” Yes, such was a piece of crap Iceron had started spouting—as if there was any left when he finally popped like mosquito on a Bug-Zapping crystal.
Now however, it was a perfect excuse to ‘tidy up’.
Groaning, Ranma pulled the covers aside... and wished he hadn’t, getting an excellent view of the werelioness only in panties licking his erection—which seemed to be bigger than even he remembered having, despite his overzealous pride. “Um... oh my...” he whispered, deciding that Kasum’s favorite phrase was the best one at this point.
As the werelioness continued to lick and suckle on his member, getting every ounce of flavor she could, it was a very red-faced werecheetah that asked her, “Um... who are you again and why are you doing this?”
The werelioness smirked, ceasing her sucking as she pumped his member, hoping to keep him ‘alert’ to get a good ride in as well. “I am you Foot Washer, Lyra.”
Ranma just blinked his eyes at the response. “That’s not my feet,” he muttered, eyes still focused on her eyes and that lapping tongue.
“I have other skills,” she replied with a smile, as she placed his ‘not-so-little’ friend back in her mouth and resumed her suckling.
Ranma nodded weakly, before his head hit the pillow again. With the sensations she was creating, who was he to argue about what she was to do? “Remind me to give you a raise...” the pigtailed werecheetah mumbled.
Lyra smiled. Silly Lord of the Lycanthropes... he already was.
However, the poor girl’s fun would have to wait, as the doors to the God-King’s bed chambers were opened, the High Priestess Tswana in full ‘Religion of Saotome’ Regalia—which was very much Egyptian with a Far East Flavoring—stopped and stared in shock. “MY MORNING MILKSHAKE!” she screamed in horror.
Ranma’s eyes slowly came back to focus, uncrossing as the happy feeling disappeared... and he felt a slight breeze.
Risking a look down to discover where all the Happiness went, he found that the Foot Washer was no longer suckling, but was being held by her hair by the newcomer, who happened to be hissing at Lyra.
He knew he should do something, but his mind was still focused on restoring the Happiness. It would take several more moments for the hormones to clear the brain and allow him to think, Ranma having not developed any mindsets to deal with such a situation before now.
“And what do you think YOU are doing, young Lyra?” The Werecheetah asked, her fur bristling as she glared at the petite werelioness—the two werepanthress attendants making a sign of the cross in short prayer for the poor girl.
“Um...” Lyra whimpered as she was held up by her hair/scruff of her neck like a kitten. “I’m his Royal Foot Washer!” she tried to explain.
“...That’s not one of his feet,” she snarled in annoyance.
“...I was working my around?” she stated, hoping that would work.
The werecheetah continued to glare. “None of his feet appear wet,” Tswana replied.
Blushing, the werelioness couple only mumble, “Um...”
“And I do not see any bathing or cleaning supplies nearby,” the High Priestess added.
“Oh, I knew I forgot something!”
“...”
“Not buying it, huh?”
“Nope.”
“...Can I plead I was giving him a tongue bath?” the Foot Washer begged.
“I can see that,” the High Priestess replied with a hiss.
Shaking his head a couple of times, Ranma finally sat up in bed, turning his legs around so he could drop them over the side of the bed. “Yeeeesh... what’s wrong? Can’t a guy get a little shut-eye or at least some more molten spine-tingling happiness?”
“See?” Lyra asked as she motioned over to the male werecheetah. “The God-King asks for it!”
Taking a deep calming breath—lest she toss the morning milk-stealing skank from the balcony window to the courtyard below—she turned to smile at her new Lord. Man; our Lord is putting out a lot of pheromones. Steeling herself not to simply jump him now, she focused on his deep blue eyes. “As much as I would like to assist you, my Lord; alas we have other duties that simply cannot wait. After they are completed, then we shall deliver all the happiness you can handle.”
“Happiness? Okay...” Ranma grumbled as he rubbed his left eye with the back of his left hand. “Man... feeling furrier than usual...” he blinked his eyes and looked down at himself, memories really kicking in. He didn’t know what was more startling... that he was indeed one of the furry feline demons now...
Or that the pajama pants were pulled down enough in the front that ‘Little Ranma’ was standing at full attention and not quite-so-little. “...Crap.”
“I should finish washing that,” Lyra stated with a smile, attempting to free herself from the werecheetah’s grip and lean forward.
Tswana had other ideas, refusing to release her hair. “I shall deal with it. I do believe you have other duties at the moment?”
The werelioness blinked her eyes once, twice. “I do?”
“She does?” asked Ranma, wondering what other duties a Foot Washer had... aside from giving him Happy Thoughts.
“Yes,” the High Priestess replied. She set the younger werelioness down and told her, “The males that have been handling refurbishment of the God-King’s Castle have been working very hard for a long time and are very dirty... wash their feet: all two-hundred of the legion!”
“...Two-hundred?” little Lyra squeaked.
“That’s four-hundred feet. Now, make sure to retrieve your basin and towels from the closet and get to steppin’!” Tswana commanded, the werecheetah cleric clapping her hands. “Chop-chop!”
Pouting slightly and trying not to lick her lips until she was out of sight, the werelioness curtsied to her Lord and trudged out of the room. It could have been worse, after all.
The men would be stuck sitting down... cutting precious seconds from their escape time.
“And only washing their feet!” bellowed Tswana, turning to the werepanthress guards. “Do ensure she keeps to her chores. We wouldn’t want her doing things not allowed, would we?”
The werepanthress in battle regalia on the right shook her head. The one on the left asked, “What if we’re allowed to help her?”
“...Still NO!” the Werecheetah cleric shouted. Oh, it really was difficult, being the voice of sanity and reason for over a thousand female werecats, with only two-hundred males with their numbers dwindling. In just a month, the men dropped from three-hundred—literally one-third of the original number—so it was up to her to help ration them out until Ranma made more.
And who knew how much magic the new Lord knew? Well, actual magic, not sexual magic—though they might be able to create that if what happened in the ruins of the East Tower had been any indication.
Until they knew what he needed to be taught—before some upstart came to ‘slay Iceron’s heir’ and take them for their own—they needed to also heap studies upon him and turn him into a mage the world would quake in fear of.
Women would be quaking, but not in fear.
Realizing she needed to get to work, the werecheetah made a shooing motion with her hands, causing the trio of other feline werecats to grumble and walk off—the two panthresses leading the werelioness away.
Once the door was closed, the werecheetah locked it behind them. “Now, my Lord and Sex God,” the spotted werecat began. “I am Tswana, the High Priestess of your religion.” She got to her knees, bowing before him. “As far as the world is concerned, I am here to praise you, and make sure that worship is heaped upon you... but...” she looked up at him, a serious gaze in her eyes. “I am she that will teach you everything you need to know about being the one true king to our people, oh my precious, wonderful God-King...” she whispered as she leaned forward, nuzzling her face against his lap.
Though the purring was less intense than before, it still helped kick-start Ranma’s own motor once more, making him coo in contentment, his right hand reaching out and running his fingers through the woman’s hair. “R-ruh-really?” he stated near quietly, allowing the sensations to run through his mind once again. So unused to these feelings, he had still no defense against them.
Truthfully, he had more mental defenses against a crying female than he did a willing female who was a twist of the head away from licking his lollipop.
“Yes, my Lord,” she cooed as well, giving him a quick lick. While she couldn’t have her morning milk, she could see that the table was set for a nice bit or Morning Jam. She slowly crawled up his body, her right hand quickly darting to her side and loosening her skirt. Luckily, she had gone commando this morning. Closing her eyes, the High Priestess hissed as she settled herself onto him, Ranma gasping as he became enveloped inside of her body. She had to admit, he was definitely a wonderful fit compared to her former liege—this one had actually been long enough to pop her cherry!
“Yessss...” Tswana hissed. “And of course, you’re always welcome to use me as you see fit in the meantime... my body was created for the God-King... and you are now he.”
Ranma could only groan; as once more rational and logical thought—or at least as close to it as Ranma could come to—was forced quickly from his mind, flooded away by Super Happy Thoughts.
“I belong to you in all things, my God-King,” she purred, as she began to ride him like a wild horse—pun intended. “My mind to teach you more knowledge than the former lord could ever learn, my body to bring you more pleasure than he could ever stand, and my soul, to bind our spirits closer than he ever allowed.”
It was poetic... and his mind was too gooey to even understand it. Still, his mind knew one thing... it needed more sweet, soft, gooey happiness.
Opening his night-shirt, Ranma revealed his furry chest to the woman riding his cheetah cock. His hands moved up to her chest, pushing her toga up, revealing her own abdomen and her furry breasts. He held her close, pressing those soft, furry orbs against his chest as he kissed her.
It was odd, being the one to initiate a kiss for once but... instinct be damned, if it didn’t feel right!
However, Ranma wasn’t the only one riding high. Tswana was enjoying it just as much! The first time had been raw animal passion, taking her like a cat in heat, as if his mind was that of a simple animal, claiming all the mates available as only an Alpha was meant to. This time was anything but. The kisses, the caresses, the tempo of his thrusts into her, were all the hallmarks of a caring partner, one which she was experiencing for the first time.
Yes, he truly was their Lord and Savior, and she swore that before she passed, he would be better at all things than Iceron had been.
Hell, he was already better at fucking than the former Lord, may he rot in the fires of an Infernal Realm, forever stabbed with pitchforks and made to service tentacle demons.
The High Priestess was so into her vision of the previous lord suffering a most fitting horrible end that she was taken off guard as she found herself falling on top of her lord, the werecheetah having leaned back on the bed...
And then found herself pinned to said bed as he rolled over, the male on top of her. Closing her eyes, Tswana moaned into his mouth as he kissed her; kicking her legs up at either side of him as he started to REALLY pound into her kitty.
Instinct was a powerful force, moves and reactions burned into muscle memory by one’s ancestors for thousands and thousands of years, reactions created by that ancestor surviving to put his genes forth because of it. Ranma was putting that to use now, but his speed was slowly growing as he rutted into his priestess. Cheetah blood combining with the Saotome need for speed turned her deep moaning into sounds of shorter duration and higher octaves.
Shucking his shirt completely, the pigtailed martial artist’s newfound cat instincts also helped lead the course... in this case, mating and claiming what was rightfully his—even if it was mostly the human brain in charge. His hands moved between them, caressing the High Priestess’ breasts, making the female werecheetah moan happily.
Of course, even if it started out slow, his own movements were REALLY picking up speed as his hips thrust with more power, making her body jolt beneath him with each inward thrust.
Part of Tswana’s mind—what was left coherent from the pounding she was receiving—knew it had made the right decision to take care of her Lord’s needs. He wouldn’t have been able to concentrate with such thoughts running unchecked through his mind.
Of course, her main thought was to not even give a fuck, as she was being ridden as she had fantasized about since she had known the possible joys of sex through tales.
Her former Lord never delivered. A few of the guards—who had died happy and far too soon—had come close.
Her God-King was proving to truly deserve his title, as she felt her pleasure continue to grow, refusing to plateau. When it would hit, she knew it would be a doozey!
Needless to say, she was surprised, however, when her God-King.... PULLED OUT OF HER!?
Tswana mewled pathetically, fear of what she’d done to displease her God-King so that he would end their coupling so soon!
Her fears were abated as he picked her up and moved her around, pressing her to the nearest wall... which happened to be the glass doors to his balcony. He pressed against her, intent on taking her...
And push the doors open with the force of their mass.
The High Priestess managed to stop herself, putting her hands firmly on the railing, eyes widening with fear for a moment as she realized how high up the God-King’s bed chambers were, giving her excellent view of the courtyard and the werecats working...
But such fear lasted only a moment as HER Saotome grasped her spotted ass-cheeks and PLUNGED his mighty member within her in a powerful thrust. The werecheetah reared her head back and ROARED in passion as he leaned forward, biting onto the back of her neck as he continued to pound her pussy. She was extremely thankful for the way he held her hips, transferring the thrusts into her and not the balcony railing—she had seen first-hand how shoddy some of the construction for this place had been with the former Lord’s swan dive.
As pleasure took hold, Tswana’s eyes noticed that many of those still at work on the castle grounds now looked at them, watching as their Lord took her, proved who was the real power of the duo, proved that unlike the former Lord, who could make her passion-filled cries not only sound real, but be real.
She didn’t care. Let them look! Let them gaze as her furry God—who had chosen the same form as she had forced upon her—took her as he willed it, took her to heights of pleasure far higher than they were now.
Growling, Ranma continued to pound the woman from behind, making her feel as though she really were flying from her position and how the female werecheetah continued to climb new heights of pleasure. She’d never felt this great in her life—she could find out tomorrow that the walls were coming down and the kingdom was over, as long as she had this moment to cherish.
Rearing her head back again and thrusting her chest out, the High Priestess let out a roar of sheer passion and pleasure as she orgasmed, her cunny churning around her lord and god’s cock in immense desire, needing his blessed seed above all others.
And Ranma didn’t disappoint. Thrusting his hips up against her ass-cheeks one last time, the pigtailed werecat roared his dominance as he orgasmed, his member throbbing powerfully with each spasm of his orgasm that flooded into the High Priestess’ inner-core.
Both backs arched as the pleasure shook them—her from the pleasure given and the hot feeling filling her inner core, his as long-unused instincts took over, flooding his conscious brain with more hormones and endorphins than he had ever experienced before.
It also unbalanced the pigtailed werecheetah enough to fall backwards, taking the female with him, as he landed on the patio. He wasn’t hurt; such a small fall onto stone was nothing to him, not after all he had endured.
Her; it simply forced him beyond her inner wall, directly to only where a few homemade toys and a few female werecats with thin hands had gone before, coating her deepest parts, and sending her into an orgasm so intense, no sound could escape her body.
The feeling of her clutching his member in such a unique way was more than enough to get Ranma yowling in pleasure, his arms wrapping possessively around her abdomen and holding her to him, hands quickly rubbing over her belly.
The duo would eventually calm down several minutes later, after the tremors ended. It would be several minutes more before their breathing would even begin to slow.
And it would be half an hour before either awoke, as sleep claimed them.
Even women can give into ingrained instincts.
“...Un... fucking... believable...” was all Tigerseye could manage to whisper. Crass as his language may have been, it did get the message of his feeling across
“...Commander Feroul?” Jordal spoke up, trying to get the werelion’s attention. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t High Priestess Tswana listed as a ‘One Woman Funeral’?”
The armored individual nodded his head slowly. “Yes, she is,” muttered the Commander, staring in awe. Truly, his new Lord was a kind man, probably saving several lives of his own troops by taking on the Black Widow Priestess.
“Hope that balcony lasts,” muttered one male close to the group. “It’d look bad if we went through two Lords in as many days.”
The Commander nodded his head. “MEN!” he shouted.
The weretiger and werejaguar snapped into a salute. “Sir, yes sir!”
“We must see to it that out God-King is successful,” the grizzled werelion told them. “For if he is able to sate all the she-beasts of his Harem and the other nine-hundred women here to the last...” he grinned. “We might just live to see our next birthdays!”
“ALL HAIL THE GOD KING!” cried the assembled men, spears and boots slamming into the ground in a thunderous clap.
A clap that was soon outdone by the screaming priestess, as they watched her arch her back and eventually fall back onto their Lord.
“Hope they’re still alive,” muttered Tigerseye.
The proof came as another loud roar—louder than before—was heard, echoing across the castle walls and the landscape.
“What in the Nine Hells was that?” demanded Lyra, her ‘guards’ were picking at their ears in an attempt to restore them to working order.
“I think...” one of the werepanthresses spoke up. “That the High Priestess had an ever greater orgasm than the time the Lord God-King claimed her as his first pussycat...” she answered truthfully.
“...Lucky, greedy bitch...” the other werepanthress muttered. “We should’ve stayed; there was MORE than enough God-King to go around!”
“Aye,” muttered Tigerseye. “And quite the show from here.”
The werelioness spun about on the male. “THERE WAS A SHOW!?” cried Lyra, tears forming in her eyes. “Why? Why did that bitch have to kick me out?”
“Well, she did call dibs, Lyra,” replied the closest of the two guards.
The other werepanthress nodded her head. “And she did stress that only she was to awaken the new Lord, as she had much to inform him of.”
“And she did proclaim a terrible punishment to any who cut before her,” offered one of the males... who soon found himself alone for fifteen meters in all directions.
The two werepanthresses and werelioness looked at the long weretiger... he stepped back, only to find that a trio of weretigress guards were coming out from the barracks, a hungry look in their eyes. He looked around, seeing yet another, and rather large werelioness, lifting her head above the rose bushes where she’d been gardening. “C-COMMANDER FEROUL!!!” The male shrieked.
“CIRCLE OF LIFE!” Commander Feroul shouted from a second floor window of one of the battle armaments—numerous men downstairs already barricading the lone ground-level entrance.
The lone werecat proved he had some sense—not much in the Common Department—as he took off as fast as his legs could carry him.
Sadly, like many present nature documentaries, one could almost here a British voice state, “Now, sadly, there can be but one result.”
The Commander turned away from the window and towards the closest of his men. It was just as he turned his back, that the lone weretiger was pounced by a speeding pair of twin werecheetah sisters—forcing him to the ground screaming as the other females closed in. “Spread the word; remember what happens, for it can just as easily be you!”
The males on the top floor that had been sharpening and polishing weapons paused in their work and turned to the armored werelion, saluting him. “YES, COMMANDER FEROUL, SIR!”
Nodding his head, he hoped this would be the final time this particular lesson was learned.
“FOR THE LOVE OF THE MOON; SOMEONE HELP ME!!”
Well, he could hope that with the idiots dead, the next generation would be somewhat smarter. At least his current troops didn’t have anyone stupid enough to try and help the fool.
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(Posted Fri, 16 Jul 2010 23:12)
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