Hello everyone!
Sorry for the delay, I've been a bit busy.
Here are the 3 chapters, from 20 to 22.
Enjoy them.
Mike.
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Chapter 22: The Reign of the Wolf God (Part 1)
The hangover of terror was a slow poison. The grotto, which moments before had been a scene of animal ecstasy, was now a silent tomb. The fires in the braziers flickered weakly, casting long, trembling shadows that seemed to cower before mine. The air was thick with the smell of fear, sex, and the evaporated blood of the naiad lying broken at my feet.
The survivors were frozen, statues of flesh and panic. The demigods, previously so full of raucous laughter and bravado, now squeezed into the alcoves, their muscular bodies shrinking, their eyes fixed on the ground, afraid to meet my gaze. The nymphs and mortal women had become part of the scenery, merging with the shadows; their stifled sobs were the only sound aside from the dripping of the waterfall.
And in the center, kneeling on the stained sand, was the ruin of the alpha. Alkeus had not moved. He was a monument to shattered pride, his body trembling with uncontrollable spasms.
'Fear is a useful tool,' I thought, my consciousness an island of calm in this ocean of dread. 'But it is boring.'
I remained motionless for what seemed like an eternity, letting their fear simmer over a low heat, letting the new reality settle into their mortal and divine minds. I let them understand that their world, their feast, their hierarchy... everything was over.
The first to move was not a hero. It was an opportunist.
One of the demigods, the one with the build of a bull and a scar on his cheek, slowly separated from his group. He did not look at me. His eyes were fixed on one of the wine amphorae that had not been overturned. He approached it with deliberate slowness, filled a gold cup, and, with shaking hands, walked toward me.
He stopped at a respectful distance, avoided my gaze, and knelt, extending the cup like an offering.
"Great... Great Lord," he stammered, his voice a hoarse murmur. "Wine... to quench your thirst."
I did not answer. I did not move. I simply watched him. His survival depended on this moment.
After a minute of crushing silence, he understood. It was not an equal offering a drink to another. It was a subject serving his king. Slowly, with palpable humiliation, he crawled forward and placed the cup on the sand, just within reach of my snout, before retreating in the same manner.
His action broke the spell. The others understood. I was not a monster that needed to be killed. I was a god that needed to be appeased.
Another demigod ran out of the grotto and returned minutes later, dragging the carcass of a huge wild boar they had just hunted, depositing it at my feet.
"Meat... to sate your hunger."
The fear was transforming. It was turning into a desperate and servile form of worship. The demigods, stripped of their alpha and faced with a power they could not comprehend, did the only thing they knew how to do: they sought a new hierarchy. And in this new hierarchy, they were the betas. I was the undisputed alpha.
And the betas serve the alpha.
Soon, they began to bring the most valuable offerings. The women.
The demigod with the scar grabbed one of the trembling mortal women and dragged her toward me. "Pleasure... for your repose."
But it was the priestess, the first one who had crawled toward me, who stepped forward of her own free will. She pulled away from the demigod and knelt before me, her body trembling, but her eyes filled with a fanatic fervor. Beside her, another priestess, seeing her companion's boldness and fearing being left behind, knelt as well.
Two offerings. Competing.
'This... is more entertaining.'
I ignored the wine. I ignored the meat. My ember gaze settled on the two kneeling women. They were a study in contrasts. The first was slender, with the wiry body of an ascetic and a mad fire in her eyes. The second was curvier, her body softer, her eyes filled with a mixture of terror and lascivious ambition.
"Both," my voice resonated in the mind of the demigod with the scar.
He understood. He grabbed both women by the hair and dragged them until they were kneeling directly in front of my exposed member, which hung heavy and semi-erect.
"Worship your god," he growled, his voice now that of a foreman, not a hero.
The two women looked at each other for a fraction of a second, a spark of pure, animal rivalry in their eyes. Then, they bowed.
The competition began.
The ascetic priestess went straight for it, her mouth closing over the head of my member with desperate greed, her movements fast, almost frenetic. The other, the curvy one, was subtler. Her tongue began to trace patterns on my heavy testicles, her mouth creating a soft and provocative suction.
Slurp! Glurg! Glug!
The wet sounds filled the silent grotto, a new form of music for my feast. I leaned back, my massive body settling into the sand, a position of lazy dominance, and let them work.
It was a strange sensation. The frenetic warmth of a mouth on the tip, the expert and swirling suction of the other at my base. I closed my eyes, not from ecstasy, but from a distant satisfaction. They were efficient tools.
The competition intensified. The ascetic, sensing she was losing ground to her rival's technique, tried to take more of me, choking, her gagging a wet and pathetic sound. The curvy one, hearing her struggle, smiled against my skin and increased the pressure of her suction, her muffled moans a purr of triumph.
'Pathetic. And yet... effective.'
I let their little war continue for what seemed like an hour. I let them exhaust their techniques, their energies. And when I felt the pressure inside me beginning to build, I decided the lesson was complete.
I grabbed their heads, one in each of my shadow claws, and immobilized them. I forced the ascetic to take me deeper, her throat stretching to the limit, her eyes filling with panic tears. I forced the curvy one to accelerate her pace, her mouth now a desperate piston.
I took them to the limit together, their bodies trembling, their moans drowned out by my flesh.
And then, I came.
It was not a climax of pleasure. It was a release of power. A flood of boiling seed that filled their mouths and throats to overflowing. The ascetic choked, convulsing, her body jerking as she swallowed spasmodically. The curvy one moaned, a sound of pure and absolute victory, as my essence spilled down her chin and dripped onto her breasts.
When I finished, I let them go. They fell sideways onto the sand, coughing, gasping, covered in my essence. They were broken, exhausted, and, judging by the gleam in their eyes, completely devoted.
They had been the first. They would not be the last.
The new hierarchy of the grotto had been established, sealed not with blood, but with semen. And I, their new and terrible god, had barely begun to accept the tributes.
The grotto became my nest.
For days, the feast continued, but the rules had changed. It was no longer a chaotic celebration of equals. It was a rite of worship organized around a single, silent god. Me.
The demigods, stripped of their arrogance, became my high priests and servants. They kept the braziers burning, hunted boars to appease my physical hunger (an instinct I rarely felt, but enjoyed satisfying), and, most importantly, herded the flock.
The nymphs and mortals, their initial fear transformed into a feverish and terrified devotion, competed for the honor of being the offering of the day. They were brought before me, trembling and willing, and I took them with a predatory indifference, my body an altar upon which they poured their pleasures and their pleas.
But the grotto, with its rock walls, felt... confining. It was a sanctuary, yes, but it was also a cage. And I had had enough of cages.
The news of my presence did not spread through mortal gossip. It spread like pollen in the wind, like a vibration through the roots of the earth.
The naiad I had taken first, upon returning to the depths of her pool, carried my essence with her. Her terror and her ecstasy seeped into the water, and every stream, every river connected to that spring, carried the echo of my power. The other Naiads, in their riverbeds miles away, felt the call: a new and terrible power had claimed the waters.
The dryads who had witnessed my dominion felt the tremor in the earth. They clung to their trees, their sap hearts beating with a primordial fear. Through the invisible web of roots that connected the entire forest, the story spread: a god of the night, older than the trees themselves, had arrived.
They did not come out of fear of being hunted. They came for a much deeper attraction. Instinct. Nature does not fear power; it bows to it.
They began to arrive.
At first, they were just shadows on the periphery of the forest surrounding the grotto. Slender figures with bark skin and eyes that shone like leaves in the gloom. Dryads. Then, translucent figures began to emerge from the pool, their bodies made of water and moonlight. Naiads.
They did not enter the grotto. They waited. They watched. And the scent of their curiosity and longing filled the air.
One night, bored with the confines of the rock, I decided to take my court outside. I stepped out of the grotto, a colossal form of night moving beneath the stars. My harem of priestesses and demigods followed me, a silent and devoted retinue.
The spirits of the forest recoiled as I emerged, but they did not flee. There was a tension in the air, a silent question.
I guided them to a clearing in the heart of the forest, a circle of soft grass surrounded by ancient, twisted oaks, their branches intertwining high above like the vault of a cathedral. The two moons bathed the place in a ghostly silver light.
It was a fitting stage.
I lay down in the center of the clearing, a mountain of indifferent darkness. And I waited.
The first to approach was a dryad. She was older than the others, her skin looking like the bark of a millennial oak, and in her hair were ivy leaves and small night flowers. She did not crawl like the priestesses. She approached with an ancient dignity, a queen of the trees greeting an equal power. She knelt at a respectful distance.
'She has no fear. Only respect. And curiosity.'
"Great Lord of the Forest," she whispered, her voice like the rustling of dry leaves. "The forest has felt your awakening. We sing your power in the sap. We dance your dominion in the wind. Allow us... to honor you."
I did not answer with words. I answered with action.
I took her first, physically. I put her on all fours on the dew-covered grass and fucked her with a slow, powerful rhythm that seemed to echo the heartbeat of the earth itself. She did not scream like the mortals. Her moans were deep whispers, sounds of nature itself yielding to a greater force.
But while my body was occupied with the queen of the trees, my power was spreading.
'It is not enough. The hunger is greater.'
From my own shadow, they sprouted. Tentacles. Dozens of them. They were not fleshy appendages, but serpents of liquid night, cold to the touch and smooth as polished obsidian. They slid through the grass, silent and predatory, moving toward the other dryads and naiads who watched, paralyzed by fear and fascination.
The first scream came from a young naiad, as a tentacle coiled around her watery ankle and dragged her into the darkness. A second tentacle followed, sliding between her thighs, and her scream of terror transformed into a sharp gasp of shocking pleasure.
The clearing became a garden of twisted lust.
While my physical cock hammered the dryad queen's cunt, my shadow appendages claimed her court. One tentacle lifted a dryad against the trunk of a tree, her legs wrapped around the solid darkness as she was impaled. Another dived into the pool, finding two naiads huddling together, and took them both at once, one in each orifice, their translucent bodies convulsing underwater.
Glurg! Slurp! SLAP!
The symphony of moans filled the forest. Each spirit reacted differently. The dryads moaned with an earthy resonance, their orgasms seeming to make the night flowers bloom around them. The naiads shrieked with a watery sound, their climaxes causing ripples in the pool.
And I was in the center of it all, a god of darkness presiding over an orgy of nature. My physical cock sank into the warm, earthy flesh of the queen, while dozens of my shadow phalluses explored the cold, watery essence of the naiads and the woody vitality of the dryads.
It was an overload of sensations, even for me.
The dryad queen beneath me was breaking, her moans turning into a wordless chant. I fucked her harder, faster, taking her to the edge, feeling the energy of her climax building, an energy that smelled of fertile earth and impending rain.
The forest itself seemed to respond. The wind stopped. The leaves stopped whispering. All of nature held its breath, waiting for the release.
The echo of my power had spread.
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Mike.
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