A Gift for the Wolfmen

The brothel is often frequented by adventurers and wayfarers of varying kinds and descriptions, many of them mercenaries, soldiers, guards, strong men. Eda has been here before, has sipped shyly at his drink from his position at the bar and watched them come in and out, the different men and women and others too - elves and humans, orcs and dwarves, others besides.

This evening, the ones who catch his eye are the wolfmen, a pack of them - the four of them are each of them seven and a half feet tall at the shoulder, and Eda's mouth goes dry as he takes them in. Two of them have brown fur and brown eyes, one of them lighter in colour with a greyer undertone, the other in a darker, richer brown; one's hair is flinty grey, in contrast to his bright yellow eyes; the fourth's fur is pure black, and his eyes are a darker brown than the others'. They mostly don't armour their chests or backs, because the muscle and fat packed on them is so thick and under such deep thatches of heavy fur that it's hard for most blades to penetrate.

The armour they do wear is where the fur is thinner, or on their joints - they wear pauldrons over their shoulders and the brown ones have armour on their upper arms; the grey one is wearing gauntlets to protect his forearms and the backs of his hands even though his claws are free; all four of them are wearing leather skirts, and while they don't wear boots, they have more armour around their ankles or over the tops of their feet.

Their paws are mostly free to let them run and move freely.

Eda's mouth is dry, looking at them as they move, at their weapons - heavy maces for the lighter brown one and the grey one; a greatsword slung on the back of the darker brown one; the black one carries a sword and shield.

An attendant takes their weapons from them to stow in the lockers at the brothel's entrance, and after some conversation, the four of them begin to strip off the rest, too, until their kilts are aside, all their armoured pieces.

All four of them are left naked, except for the jewellery some of them still have - the grey one has his ears pierced, has two gold rings hanging from one ear and another from the other; the black one has a crystal necklace hanging around his neck, the pale blue of it glittering in the dark fur on his chest.

Eda can't take his eyes away from each of their cocks - they swing thick and heavy between each of their legs, their huge balls swaying too, and Eda can see the thick bump at the base of each cock. Knots, big ones, once they're hard, Eda expects.

As a line of four, they stand in a row and look at the wall.

It's a quiet brothel, compared to most, here in the main hall - there are a group of other men drinking in the corner, laughing together, and a group of other mercenaries chuckling as they play over a table. The table is on wheels, and one of the whores is inside - their tits and their cock poke through gaps in the tops of the table, and now and then one of the mercenaries will play with their cock or tweak their nipples, touching them, manipulating them.

Up on the wall are a series of about twenty tiles, each the far end of a box on wheels just like that: poking through each gap is an ass, some of them face up, some of them face down. Eda looks at the array of them, at the different colours of the whores' skins - an array of human shades, paler whites, pale and darker browns, one more dark-skinned person whose cunt is brightly pink inside and contrasts with the pigmentation around their lips and on the flesh of their ass, and then a few non-humans too - pinks and purples, one huge, green ass with a thick, pierced cock hanging down and a plug pressed into their ass.

Eda considers the position of the people on the other side - on their hands and knees in a box, some of them, others with their legs strapped to the wall and their bodies laid on a bed or another supporting surface.

Some of them have already been used tonight, and you can see it - see that one or both of their holes are open, some with cum visible stuffed inside or leaking down around their cocks or out of their holes. Some of them have been written on with ink, or have notes written on the wooden panelling the asses poke through - three on the end says QUARTER-PRICE: PRISONER'S HOLES, meaning that they're prisoners who are doing brothel duty to pay down some of their dues to lessen their sentence, or just want to earn some money for them to have once they're out.

He's heard some of the whores talk about the work here, about the helplessness of it - you don't get marks or bites or kisses, for the most part, don't have to talk to the clients, don't have to perform. You can't solicit for tips, either, and there's no guarantee they'll pick you out of the line-up - of course, there's no guarantee they'll give you any reprieve, either.

He's been dreaming of it. Considering it. You can take the job part-time, and most of them do, only do one or two days a week - there's something anonymous about it, after all, especially in a bustling city like this, and while there are identifying markers, like piercings or the particularities of someone's pussy or cock or asshole, their pubic hair, scars, tattoos, it's relatively anonymous.

The wolfmen are talking to each other as they walk up and down the line, examining the different asses on display - they seem to go right past the cocks, focusing on the ones with cunts instead.

They're looking at an ass that's obscenely tiny, must belong to a halfling or a gnome or someone else who's very small, and Eda bites his lip as one of them licks the tip of his finger and thumb and parts their lips.

The wolfmen all laugh as the person must twitch or clench their hole, and Eda twitches in his own seat as the wolfman smacks the ass on one cheek and moves down the line.

This ass is a human's or an elf's, Eda thinks, their asscheeks a pale brown, their cuntlips and cock a little darker with pigmentation, the same darker colour showing in the pucker of their unused ass. The black wolfman reaches out again and spreads his pussy lips, and Eda can see the shine of the pink wetness inside.

There's writing on the board around him - FIVE-STAR BOYPUSSY says one scrawled piece of graffiti; another says get this bitch pregnant; another says fill him up!!

The wolfmen pull the box out of the wall by a metal handle and set it gently down on the floor, rolling it across to one of the tables, and Eda sips at his drink as he watches, looks at the shape of the box - the boy's ass sticks out at waist height, his pussy underneath his asshole, so his legs are probably straight beneath him, maybe his feet on the floor of the box; there's another strap across his chest keeping his body pinned to the top of it.

It's the second-favourite of the positions Eda would like to try himself, he thinks, if he bit the bullet and applied for work - his favourite is when they're on their backs with their ankles strapped to their thighs.

They set it in the middle of a set of chairs, and one of the wolfmen comes over - the black one, the leader, Eda thinks. The grey one is the tallest, and the lighter brown one is the biggest - the fattest and the most muscular - but the black one is the one they all look to.

"Four ales," he says to the bartender, putting a pouch of coins on the table. He's got a rich, growling voice, and Eda presses his knees together as the wolfman's shoulder brushes against his. He's so warm, and his fur is surprisingly soft - up close like this, Eda can see the places where scars interrupt the growth of the hair. "Keep them coming."

"You all going to fuck number 17, Gentry?" she asks as she starts pouring ales, and the wolfman looks across at her, his hands on his hips.

"That a problem?"

"Once each," the bartender says sternly, pointing at him with one finger. "Then I need to break open the box and see if he can take anymore or if he needs to be retired for the night."

"Scared we'll pop him?" Gentry asks, grinning.

"Scared he'll run out of space," she mutters, and Gentry laughs as he takes one of the ales from the bar. "I'll bring the rest over in a minute."

Gentry looks at Eda, and Eda immediately averts his eyes.

"You a whore?" Gentry asks.

"No, sir," says Eda.

"You fucking any of the whores?"

"Um—"

"Just a pervert, are you? Here as a voyeur?"

"He's paying for his drinks, Gentry, leave the kid alone," she says, and Eda's breath hitches as Gentry pushes one knuckle under his chin, pushing his head up. The crystal necklace the wolfman wears is distracting where it glitters between his two huge, fat pecs - only two of them, each of these wolf-men have, although he knows others have six or eight.

"Sorry," says Eda.

"The fuck are you sorry for?" Gentry asks, raising thick, dark eyebrows. His tongue is dark pink, and his teeth are sharp, his nose black and shiny. Eda's never had sex with a wolfman before, wonders what his snout would feel like, licking at him, and it makes his body shudder. "Can we fuck him?"

He directs the question not to Eda, but to the barwoman, who glances at him, raising her eyebrows.

"He's not one of ours," she says. "If you want to fuck him, you don't owe us extra."

"You a virgin?" Gentry demands, and Eda stares at him, at his face, feeling his own cheeks flush with heat. "Yeah," he murmurs. "You look like a fucking virgin. You hang around in brothels like this, hope someone comes and just bends you over? Takes all the anxiety out of it, get it over with? Have someone break in those holes of you all at once?"

Eda swallows. "I, um, I—"

"Take your clothes off," Gentry orders, and Eda stares at him, dumb. His hands are going to his shirt before he even knows what he's doing, before it can even occur to him to protest, to say no, to refuse. Gentry's right, after all, and the thought of it makes his head spin, his cunt throbbing between his legs.

He takes off his shirt, his pants, takes off everything until he's naked, and Gentry reaches to pinch one of the nipples on his tits, then reaches down between his legs and flicks his cock.

"You're small," he says approvingly, tilting his head as he looks Eda up and down. "Tabitha, you have that gel you use on your whores?"

"That you have to pay for," says Tabitha, but she tosses him a metal cannister, and as Eda stands there, frozen and dumb, Gentry opens the lid from the cannister and smears some of the pale green gel inside over the hard, black skin of his palms, rougher than a human's palms.

Eda yelps as he spreads some of it over his belly, gripping Eda by the hair with his other hand to keep him still as he spreads it in a circle over and around his navel, over his sides.

Tabitha puts a glass vial of similarly-coloured green potion on the bar, and Gentry says, "I'll need two of those - this one's a cuntboy."

Tabitha huffs out a laugh. "You're an endlessly lucky bastard, Gentry, you know that?"

"What can I say?" Gentry asks, grinning. "It's my high charisma. This as big as your tits get, boy?"

"Yes, sir." Eda mumbles, and Gentry clucks his tongue against his sharp, white teeth as he rubs more of the gel over his belly and his sides - it's the most Eda's ever been touched by a man and he's so wet he's pretty sure it's dripping onto his thighs, his dick throbbing.

"That's a shame - pudgy lad like you, nice meat around your thighs, this belly, good shoulders, you'd think you'd have a better shelf of tit to match."

Eda doesn't know what to say to that, can't really think, can't get his thoughts in order because all he can think about is just how close he is to Gentry's cock, which even soft is thicker around than Eda's wrist. "Are you— Are you really going to fuck me?"

"Yep," says Gentry. "Your ass and your cunt and your mouth."

"Tonight?"

"Yep."

"All four of you?" Eda asks, looking over at the table, where the other three wolfmen are sitting around the makeshift table of the whore in the box, and Eda realises that when he wasn't looking, the grey one had lined himself up and fucked inside one of the boy's holes. He's not moving his hips much, rocking him very gently and carefully - he must have already knotted him.

Eda feels faint just thinking about it, about being in the box and suddenly having a huge pink wolfcock shoved inside him, splitting him open, and not just a cock, but the wolfman's knot, too, being pumped full of cum.

"All four of us," Gentry says, and nudges Eda toward the table.

"What about my—"

"You won't need your clothes," Gentry says, and Eda's thighs tremble as he moves toward the table. "Another drink for our friend here, Tabby. How is he, Van?"

"Tight," says Van, the tall, grey wolfman with the bright yellow eyes whose knot is buried in the boxed whore. His earrings clink as he turns his head to meet Gentry's gaze. "I bet he's squealing in this little box of his. He's got no idea what's coming to him." He laughs, tipping his head back and continuing to fuck his hips forward and into number 17.

"Who's this?" asks the biggest of the wolves, the one with the light brown fur. He's got, Eda realises with a sort of tremor running through him, that he's got golden barbels going through each of his nipples - it's the only reason he can see them under the thick thatch of fur on his chest where he can't see any of the other wolves', and his tits are fatter, wobbling and shifting as he moves in his chair.

The darker brown wolf is quiet, examining Gentry and Eda both as he slowly slides his hand over his own cock - he's using his sheath to grip his cock with, and Eda stares at how pink and shiny the huge dick is, how it's tapered at its tip so it can easily sink deeply into a hole.

"This is Van," Gentry says to Eda, putting his hand on Van's shoulders. "He's a good warrior, keen, sharp. Likes his holes tight - he prefers somewhere we can hear them whine and yelp when we split them open, but he lost the vote this time around. The rest of us, we like the anticipation, like opening the gift box after we've primed it.

"This is Brant, he likes to spank a hole before he fucks it - gets it to tighten up a bit before he slides his prick inside."

The big wolf, the fat one, grins at Eda and gives him a little wave, so that Eda can see the rings on his fingers. "Makes them nice and warm, too," he murmurs, chuckling low in his chest, which makes his tits jiggle. "All hot from the friction."

Eda gulps.

"And this is Rain," Gentry goes on, gesturing to the silent one, the one with lighter hair. He's got an old bite mark scarring the bottom part of his neck. "He likes to rain hell on his victims on the battlefield - you saw his greatsword when we came in, didn't you?"

Eda nods silently, meeting Rain's amber-brown eyes, which don't blink.

"He likes to put pups in the people he fucks - men, women. What do you think, lad?" Eda whimpers as Gentry slides his rough-palmed hand down his chest, squeezing one of his tits and rolling his nipple between his thumb and forefinger, making Eda squirm. "You think he'll get first-time lucky, blow this belly of yours up and out?"

Eda shudders, and Gentry laughs as he goes and sinks down into the other armchair, putting his tankard down on top of number 17's box - Rain puts a coaster underneath it, seemingly on reflex - and sets the two vials to the side.

"My name is—"

"We don't care," Gentry interrupts him, and Eda is punched by such a searing wave of heat that his vision almost goes dark for a second. This is a fantasy beyond fantasies - he's already been wanking off to it for months, for nearly a year, the idea of being boxed up in this place, paid for, fucked without anyone ever seeing his face or thinking of his name, but it's been so... contained.

This is real, all of them around him, looking him over, looking at his ass, his tits, his belly. As he stands there, Van reaches over and curls his fingers through his hair, tugging on it gently, and Eda shivers.

"I can smell you," murmurs Brant. "Look at how wet you are lad, all dewy for us. You want to be in a box next?"

"Why should we put him in a box?" asks Gentry. "We can handle him like this. Come here, lad."

"How much are we paying for him?" Van asks.

"I'm paying for his drinks," says Gentry as Eda walks closer, taking small, shuffling steps until he's standing between Gentry's glossy black-furred legs and stares down at his huge, still-soft cock in its sheath. "But otherwise, he's for gratis. Just wants to let a few men take those holes of his for a ride."

"Can we breed him?" asks Brant, and Eda shudders as Gentry laughs, not sure if it's from the question or the laughter or the fact that Gentry has his cock between his thumb and forefinger and is tugging and squeezing on it, sending electric shocks of pleasure up his spine and through his pussy, making his cunt clench around air and feel so painfully, agonisingly empty. He's only ever put fingers inside himself, and only ever three at a time - three in his pussy, two in his ass.

How is he going to take all their cocks?

Rain's nostrils flare as he scents the air. He says in a voice so deep that Eda almost can't believe he can talk at all without it hurting, a voice like distant thunder or grinding stone, "He's fertile."

"You sure you're not smelling the boy in the box?" Brant asks.

"They both are," says Rain, and takes the tankard from Tabitha as she brings it over on a tray. She puts the rest on top of number 17's box, the tankards of ale, another jug of the stuff, with coasters underneath it all, and she also puts down a series of plugs, each one of them with flared bases and thick shafts.

Four of them.

"Try not to make too much of a mess," Tabitha says mildly, and walks off with the tray under her arm to talk to the mixed group of mercenaries, who are now playing hoopla with their whore's cock, tossing rings onto its hard shaft and laughing when one of them misses.

"Turn around," Gentry tells him, and Eda obeys, slowly turning away from Gentry - he yelps as Gentry pushes his palm against Gentry's lower back and bends him over, makes him rest his hands on the other edge of number 17's box.

He thinks about the fact that he and number 17 are in the same position, each of them with one of these huge wolfmen behind them, each with their cunt and ass on display, each wet and open.

Each of them... fertile.

Gentry licks from Eda's cock all the way up to his asshole, and Eda nearly screams.

He presses his mouth in against his upper arm as he grips tight at the other end of number 17's box, his thighs trembling at the wet heat of Gentry's tongue, which feels so different to his own fingers, even slicked with lube. His tongue is smooth and dexterous in its movements, lapping hot around Eda's cock and then slipping around the edges of his cunt.

He can hear the sound of it, the wet slick of Gentry's tongue against his clenching hole, then whimpers as Gentry's tongue slides inside him so much deeper than a human's could, swiping around the inside of him and making him jump and shudder away - Gentry grips his thighs tighter to keep him in place.

"I like those noises," Van murmurs, smirking as he looks at Eda across 17's box, pulling himself free. "Who's next?"

Eda watches as Van tugs himself free from 17 and wipes off his knot and cock with a handkerchief, and then Rain stands up to take his place. He's squeezing and tugging at himself as he moves along, and Eda's mouth is wet inside as he sees him roll back his sheath all the way and bare his bright pink cock and the huge, fat lump of his knot at its base.

He sinks it inside number 17 in one smooth movement, and then begins to fuck into him - at the same rhythm, Gentry fucks his tongue into Eda's cunt, and it's impossible not to imagine how Van's cock would feel inside him instead, so much thicker than Eda's fingers, pumping into him, filling him so fucking full.