tagNonHumanA Slaying Song Tonight

A Slaying Song Tonight


The Protector stripped off this torn and shattered Armor and lowered his aching body into the pool of nearly-boiling water to relax and soothe away the pain. The nine Steeds already were in their magma-lake, doing the same. HellJaw, StarSwallower and GriefClaw must have taken less damage, because they already have their sinuous draconine shapes entwined, copulating madly. LastSight, FoeRender, SunKiller, HellThunder, Perdition and RedFlood lolled in the lava, restoring their torn bodies. They would join the orgy soon. Eight-legged, four-winged dragons, each the size of a small town, hermaphroditically fornicating in a lake of lava is always an interesting sight.

Chariot spoke into The Protector's mind, reporting that repairs were complete and status of the Fortress' systems was good. Three of his Helpers entered the room, laden with food, wine and massage oils, curtsied prettily, lifting their already-short skirts, and knelt silently at a safe distance from the scalding hot water, awaiting their Master's pleasure. Shimmer, BonBon and Breeze, three of his favorites.

The Helpers were mostly humanoid, except for their diaphanous wings, cat-like ears and long, sensitive prehensile tails. The few thousand there, in the Fortress, were the last remnant of a slave-race created some thirty thousand years ago by the mad Gene Spinners of Kharak-Na. The Protector himself had eliminated every trace that entire antedeluvian metropolis, and its twisted sciences, but the race they had created to be their toys were just so lovely, pliant and pleasant to be around, that he had rescued them all, and housed them there in the Fortress, beneath miles of rock and polar ice, to become his own pretty playthings.

"You may relax while you wait for me." , he announced.

The three wasted no time stripping out of their tiny skirts and halters, retaining only their dainty collars and cuffs, and collapsed into a giggling pile on the soft cushions, each lovingly sucking the tip of one of the other girl's tail. They would all be very aroused and enthusiastic when he was ready for them.

Defeating the Silver Swarm had not been easy. A mere ten thousand Swarm pods had consumed every carbon atom in the entire Syrinx galaxy. The Protector had intercepted the Mother Swarm - over six million pods, out in deep interstellar space, far beyond the detection range of even the most sophisticated instruments of the inhabitants

of his chosen world, but on their way to his adopted home.

The battle had been epic. His Steeds had raged like the ravening slayers they are, smashing and devouring. His Sword had cut swaths of unspeakable energy through the Swarm.

Then he ran. Much faster than light, yet still slowly enough to allow the Swarm to follow. Once the Swarm had all dropped back into realspace near a distant giant star, orbited by a single gas giant planet, The Protector had sprung his trap.

Using the Sword's power, he detonated the star's core in a titanic explosion that wiped the entire Silver Swarm from the face of this Universe. In fifty centuries or so, instruments here would record a new hypernova, and the birth of a huge new pulsar.

It was a rough ride, but it would take more than that to really hurt him, or his Steeds. He was, after all, a Protector, and had been ever since the end of the War, when he had been forced to bind himself with an unbreakable oath, to care for this particular little world, and the Life upon it. It was still two damned long, rough days.

He smiled. It had been a long time, but he still liked the place. Duties aside, there were more diverse pleasures to be had here than in his home dimension. The Steeds, especially StarSwallower, still made rude remarks about the planet, ever since the big lizards went extinct, but, they were on their way out anyway, even before he had used the Sword to trim down the big rock that had sealed their fate. They fuck each other enough that they don't miss the dinosaurs too much, any more. His Oath bound him to protect Life itself, not any particular species, or branch of the Tree.

The Humans WERE fun, though. They thought up such fascinating sexual variations. Still a baby species, they were always surprising. Their sciences made them a bit dangerous, but their mythology still called forth genetic memories of The War. He already planned to save and breed a small population for his pleasure, when and if they wiped themselves out. The cephalopods would probably be the next big thing in a few hundred millennia. So it goes. He even had a wager going with a fellow Protector, half a galaxy away about the next dominant class of organisms. Neither would cheat very much to win. They were, after all, Protectors.

The Protector stepped out of the pool, already sporting a massive erection. The three Helpers rushed close, falling to their knees, mouths already open in submissive expectation. He reclined on the cushions, and permitted all three silky-smooth tongues to pleasure him. He smiled again. They were such wonderful little sluts.

Their tails were already penetrating each other's wet vaginas as they licked and sucked their beloved Master. He planned on using these three sweet little fucktoys for all of his own dark pleasures for days on end. Pink-curled Breeze already had tears in her gorgeous golden eyes as he forced his hard cock deep into her throat. Their sexual pleasure helped regenerate his energy.

An alarm sounded in his mind, and he swore by the name of a deity he had been forced to destroy, back when trilobites still swam the warm oceans. He had once thought it odd that he remembered an ancient foe's name, but not what he, himself,

had been called before he became The Protector. Duty called once more. No time for silly questions.

He kissed each quivering, naked Helper lasciviously, and whispered "This wont

take long.. Stay aroused." His large hand left a warm, red print on each bare, shapely ass as he left the chamber. The Helpers did love their pain as much as every other bodily sensation. They would get their fill of all when he returned.

The Protector called to his Steeds, who left their multiform copulations, joined Chariot and all began to change their shapes. It was His Night, once again. The Humans were such fun.

The Protector changed his own shape as well. Gone were the red fires that were usually his eyes, as was the tall, chiseled, titanium-hard man-form he usually wore. Sword assumed the outward shape of a long, thin whip. The Armor took on color and physical form and reshaped itself around this new body.

Ready for this easy and, actually, pleasurable, self-chosen Duty, he joined once again with Chariot, and began speaking the arcane spell-words that would set them aloft on this particular night's work, in these particular physical forms. He would greatly-enjoy this pleasure as well - His own particular pleasure, and no one else's - it always made him smile, as few of his other pleasures had ever done.

His words echoed from the flame-lit stone walls of the Fortress, as a fully-laden Chariot and the Nine Steeds took flight into the skies high above the Fortress.

"On Dasher and Dancer, On Donner and Blitzen..."

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