SNUFF TALES, VOL.

1
A COLLECTION OF DEADLY STORIES
by Felixpath

5 Stories belong to Felixpath. All characters belong to their respective players.

CURTAIN CALL
Starring Akidas
The dead hyena sways slowly, his body framed by the setting sun. The crowd is
10 dispersing, many of them still shooting glances at the body. They whisper: he is still hard, erect
in death. How can such a thing be? And his face, purple with pooled blood and frozen in a
hideous snarl....isn’t it more like a smile? As he twirls on the end of the noose, he seems to be
regarding the crowd with that terrible leer. His face will be in the dreams of many tonight, and
they will wake to their own guilty arousal. Some will spill their guilty seed, just as he did.
15 Oh, yes, they watched that seed spill. It came at the end of a long and ferocious dance on
the end of the noose. He was going limp, his muscles beginning to relax as his body surrendered
to the crushing grip, airless, bloodless, vicious. Some were leaving the execution square already,
assuming the entertainment to be over, when the startled murmur ran through the crowd,
punctuated by gasps. He was spurting, cumming so hard that blood trickled down his chin from a
20 bitten-through tongue. The hot seed left his twitching body and landed upon the stones beneath
him, some drops flying into the crowd, causing no end of havoc. Even as he died, the hyena
seemed to be laughing at them.
And how he had danced! Such a dance had rarely been seen before in this city. He had
fought the noose and embraced it at the same time, the frantic movements of his form displaying
25 both agony and intense desire. His cock, heavy and pink, bobbed up and down, as did his
swollen balls. His fine muscles flexed and twitched as though there were living creatures beneath
his skin, doing a dance all of their own. He kicked -- oh, how he kicked! The wide flailing of his
legs caused his body to swing this way and that, spiraling rapidly, his entire anatomy visible for
the jeering crowd. They jeered, but their voices were uncertain, wondering. He lasted so long,
30 even for a strong young male. And his cock, so hard...
It had been hard before the dance began, of course. It reached full tumescence right as the
executioner placed his gloved hand on the lever. The hyena showed no shame or regret and made
no attempt to hide the pink shaft pushing up his loincloth. A faint smirk played over his muzzle,
turning into a sharp exhalation as the wooden platform opened beneath his footpaws with a
35 creak. An instant of weightlessness, the closest he’d ever get to heaven. Then the agonizing snap
of the noose catching him under the jaw, the pop of neck bones, the eruption of saliva from his
mouth as the dance began.
“I hope you enjoy this.”
The hyena’s last words, spoken in a laconic tone of voice with an undercurrent of intense
40 excitement. He’d been looking at the executioner when he spoke, almost challenging the gloved,
hooded bat to reply. But the executioner did not answer. He just smiled his enigmatic smile and
prepared to send the hyena to his doom. He’d placed the noose around the throat of the
condemned, made it fast and snug. There would be no breaking of the neck, no easy death.
But, then, Akidas expects no easy death. As he is marched up the stairs to meet his fate,
45 he reflects on his crimes, real and imagined, but feels no regrets. A harsh death for a harsh life.
Arms bound behind him, nude but for a ragged loincloth, he feels himself to be a prime piece of
 meat displayed for the yelling, jeering, catcalling crowd. The burly guard moves him onto the
trapdoor and he fixes his gaze upon the leather-clad bat who will end it all. The noose hangs over
his head, ready for his neck. Akidas gazes at it and imagines how the next few minutes will go,
how his final dance will feel, how he will look when he is dead. It makes his heart pound in
5 delightful fear. The beginnings of a final erection stir between his thighs.
They want a good show? He’ll give them one.

IN THE TOMB
10 Starring Guba
The interior of the ancient tomb was cool and musty. Only one set of pawprints disturbed
the thick dust and gleaming husks of dead scarabs that had accumulated over the millennia.
There was a strange, almost reverent stillness to the air, a kind of anticipation. This was a holy
place, pure and untouched, a final sanctum for men who had lived as gods. Sacred ground.
15 Now, of course, the silence was broken by the cheerful whistling of the young raccoon as
he brushed dust away from his find. Clad in khakis and a cute little pith helmet, he was the
picture of the dedicated treasure-seeker. It was nighttime in the desert outside, but Guba had
returned to the tomb alone to continue excavating, drawn by the excitement of being so close to a
major find. This tomb was brand-new, and it was all his! And now he’d found this inner sanctum,
20 strangely plain for a pharaoh, but marked by elaborate hieroglyphs. And the sarcophagus that
stood upright upon a raised dais could only be for a king! The stone was ringed with gold and
inlaid with precious gems of all sizes and types. The raccoon’s eyes gleamed as he stroked one
jewel after another. Wealth, prestige, high society....he could already see himself in a museum
with countless elites fawning over him.
25 He’d taken a stab at deciphering the glyphs etched across the sarcophagus. Something
about a warning to intruders, and lots of wiggly shapes that looked like snakes. Guba snorted;
these tombs always had warnings. Nothing but superstition and ancient mumbo-jumbo. As soon
as he found the release mechanism to open the coffin, he’d be face to face with a bona fide dead
pharaoh, just like he’d always dreamed of!
30 Ah, there was the catch! Guba pressed it, and the heavy stone lid creaked open in an
explosion of dust. The coon leaned forward, grinning eagerly....
WHOOSH! Something burst from the sarcophagus and seized the startled coon. Several
somethings, actually, long and thin and pale in the torchlight. Snakes? No....they looked like
white streamers, and they moved with incredible speed. Before Guba could recover from his
35 shock, his arms and legs were entangled. The pale strips wound about his limbs and torso, lifting
him straight off the ground. He struggled in shock and horror, feeling the soft, strong material
slide against his fur. Mummy bandages?!
“Wh...what is this? Let me go! Help! HELP!”
No one could hear him, but still he screamed and screamed, until one bandage wound
40 around his muzzle and forced it shut. With speed and dexterity, the bandages pulled his clothing
away from him, leaving him exposed and spread-eagled a few feet off the ground. Then they
turned him horizontal. He squirmed and thrashed, but their grip was stronger than any snake.
They drew his legs together, pulled his arms across his chest. Then they began their work.
More and more wrappings emerged from the coffin to join in wrapping the helpless coon.
45 Guba struggled with all his might, his pitiful cries echoing in the still air. Pale bandages wound
about him, wrapping him from the footpaws up, encasing him. His bushy tail was pinned against
 his legs, his arms crossed, a pose he had seen many times before. Tears fell from the young
coon’s eyes as he was slowly mummified. The bandages did their work with great precision,
leaving not one millimeter of raccoon fur exposed. A second layer followed the first, moving up
his body, pulling tight, so tight he could barely twitch. His last view was of the empty coffin,
5 mocking him now with its glyphs. Then a strip of cloth covered his eyes and all went dark. Only
his head was still free, and the bandages went on wrapping and rewrapping, adding layer upon
layer, sealing him in.
The head came last. Guba’s cries and whimpers grew more muffled as his muzzle was
encased. His ears, cheeks, neck....soon only his wet nose remained. And then that too was
10 covered. More bandages, more layers, cocooning the moaning, squirming coon. His cries grew
desperate once he could no longer breathe, but the cloth muffled them nicely.
Their work done, the bandages drew the mummy into the sarcophagus, sliding the
wrapped form in snugly, placing him. One strip of cloth tugged the heavy lid shut. Within, the
raccoon mummy moved and whimpered very faintly still. The lid slammed into place, cutting off
15 all sound forever.
They would search the tomb for him and find his clothes, but not a single hair from the
raccoon would ever be seen again, and the sarcophagus would not open for any modern man or
woman. The coon would be filed under the unsolved mysteries that surrounded the tombs of
Egypt. The coffin would be x-rayed, studied, analyzed, and displayed to the public in a museum,
20 stood up behind velvet ropes and bearing this legend: SEALED ROYAL EGYPTIAN
SARCOPHAGUS CONTAINING PRESERVED MUMMY (MALE RACCOON, AGE 18-25),
PRESUMED TO BE AN AS YET UNKNOWN PHARAOH.
Guba’s fantasy had come true.

25
REVENGE SERVED HOT
Starring Kyne
My paws hurt like hell, but it’s a hurt that makes me feel all warm and satisfied inside,
like I’ve just eaten a good meal. I crack my knuckles and deliver a few more sharp blows to my
30 captive. The wolf’s leather-covered head snaps back and forth, accompanied by soft groans. He
twitches in his bonds, dirty chest heaving in obvious pain. Good.
As much fun as I’m having, it’s time for the end of this show. I jerk the leather hood off
his head, revealing that lupine face that has filled my thoughts all these years. Just like I
remember him, if you ignore the blood and bruises. How I’ve waited for this moment: having
35 him here, half-naked and bound to a chair in this out-of-the way shed with its dirt floor. Hot air
flows in through the window holes. His white fur is streaked with sweat, as is mine. No one will
come upon us.
“Surprised to see me?” I ask him, smirking in a mix of smugness and rage. “When you
murder someone, make sure he’s dead.”
40 “Let me go,” Kyne snarls, trying to struggle despite his weakened state. His cock pokes
from his pants, hard and wet with pre. I’ve been tormenting him in more ways than one. “It...it
wasn’t anything personal. I was just doing a job!”
“I’ve already dealt with those who ordered my death,” I reply. “But that doesn’t make
you innocent. You enjoyed it. You had your way with me and left me dying in a plastic bag. If the
45 bag hadn’t had that tiny hole, and if I hadn’t been found in time.....”
“Fucking let me go! You’ve had your revenge, okay?”
 “Oh, but I haven’t,” I purr, kneeling and tickling the tip of his member. He moans and
squirms. “My revenge is just now starting.”
I tease Kyne a bit, then stand and move around behind him. He hears the rustle of plastic
and starts to turn, and I jerk the bag over his head, masking his red hair and handsome blue eyes.
5 It takes him a second to realize that this is not the leather hood. Then the screaming starts.
“NO! GOD, NOT THIS! LET ME GO!”
I smile to see the black plastic bag inflate and deflate as he howls and pleads. Using up
his air, just as I did. Pleading, just as I did. I stroke his cock slightly, not pawing him, not even
giving him the climax his body must crave. He sucks the plastic into his mouth, trying in vain to
10 bite the tough material. I see his face defined, eyes wide, mouth frozen in a scream.
“HELP! HELP!”
“That’s it, waste your air. Suffer...like I suffered.”
Seconds turn into minutes. He struggles with all his might, to no avail, of course. I tease
and taunt him, watching the movement of the plastic against his face and head. Soon it’s stuck to
15 his fur by sweat and saliva, a crinkled skin blocking off his air. He starts to weaken in due time,
his movements becoming slower and more confused. I murr to see him succumb; it’s better than
I dreamed. I start to paw him more firmly, maybe out of some buried compassion, more likely
because I want to humiliate him one last time. It doesn’t take long for him to cum; I’ve heard
lack of air is a great stimulator. He moans thickly and spurts in long pale streams that gleams in
20 the fitful light, marking the dirt floor.
“Good boy,” I say. “This is what dying is like.” I stand, nursing a bit of an erection
myself. His head droops forward as he fights to stay conscious, still trying to plead for his life. I
go and get the machete, hefting it and coming up behind my captive for the last time. Kyne is
almost gone, deeply suffocated and seconds away from sleep. Perfect.
25 I grasp his bagged head, force it back, and bring the machete down on his bared throat
with all my might. The first blow cuts deep into flesh, muscle, and spine. Blood fountains, and
Kyne lets out a hoarse scream, the last sound he’ll ever make. The second blow almost severs the
spine. The third blow finishes the job. I pull the wolf’s head away from his spouting neck and
pull the bag away, revealing a face frozen in a snarl, eyes wide open in eternal terror and anger.
30 “You’ll look good above my bed, wolf,” I say. Then I tuck the head in my pack and leave
the corpse for the insects.

ROAST RODENT
35 Starring Marko
The hyena gang had caught a rat, a nice plump one, too. Eager halloos greeted the
hunting party as they wound their way through the twisted, jumbled maze of concrete, steel
girders, and skeletal struts. The ruined husks of skyscrapers towered overhead, a constant
reminder of what had once been. Now it was a world of blood and killing, and those who tried to
40 prowl the nighttime streets alone didn’t stand much of a chance.
The young rat was dropped onto the concrete slab that served the hyenas as both a
preparation and dining table. The cement was already stained and caked with old blood. The rat,
whose name was Marko, trembled and moaned around the dirty rag stuffed in his mouth.
Scarred, slavering, heavily tattooed hyena faces leered down at him. When civilization crumbled,
45 they had reverted to a half-feral state, and Marko’s only hope was to die quickly.
 The hope was quickly dashed as his captives got started. They stripped and shaved him
first, holding him down while razor blades were dragged over his bare body, removing most of
his soft gray fur. When they were done, his bare flesh was covered in cuts and his voice was
hoarse from whimpering and sobbing. The worst was still to come. A burly female removed the
5 rag from the rat’s mouth, but quickly stifled any pleas by seizing his muzzle and forcing his head
back. A hyena took each limb and pinned it to the concrete, holding Marko spread-eagled. He
squirmed, but their strength was ten times his. A male, obviously high-ranking, hefted a long
wooden pole, thin but strong. One end had been expertly whittled to a sharp point. The rat could
not see the pole...but he soon felt it.
10 Smirking cruelly, the hyena inserted the needle-tip of the pole into the helpless rodent’s
anus and began to push, holding it straight and level. Marko began to shriek, his raspy sounds of
agony making his captors snicker and slaver. His body twitched and torqued as the skewer went
deeper, deeper, puncturing everything in its path. The male hyena was an expert at this, and he
kept the pole’s path steady, not piercing anything fatal. The gang had decided that food tasted
15 better when cooked alive, which was unfortunate for the hapless rat. He screamed and screamed
until his voice became a harsh rasp. He stopped struggling, paralyzed and almost unconscious
from pure agony. The female held his muzzle open, and within moments, the crimson, dripping
tip of the skewer emerged from his throat. Marko was impaled straight through, barely alive but
still twitching.
20 They tied his ankles to the pole and bound his hands behind him. Then two strong hyenas
hefted both ends of the pole and carried the impaled rat toward the large, crackling fire that the
lower-ranking gang members had built up. Marko sagged on the skewer, letting out gulping
sounds, each agonized breath sending a little spout of blood over his lower jaw. He saw the fire
through glazed eyes and prayed he would die before they began to cook him. No such luck. Two
25 forked sticks had been placed on either side of the fire pit, and this was where they placed their
meal.
The fire licked hungrily at the twitching, spasming rat. Flesh sizzled and crisped, dripping
fat into the fire with loud pops. The hyenas gathered round, eyes lit with fire, drool running down
their chins. This plump rat was a good catch; all would eat well tonight. Some of them fancied
30 they could hear their meal attempting to scream still, but it might have merely been the hiss of
superheated air. There was no movement from the rat now; he hung above the fire and slowly
cooked, rotated every thirty seconds by his cooks. His eyeballs and brain cooked in his skull, his
organs baked within the warm oven of his body, and his bones blackened from the heat. It took a
long time for him to cook, but it was well worth it for the hyenas. They gorged themselves upon
35 his hot, tender flesh, sucked the marrow from his limbs, and let the grease run down their chins.
The next morning, there was one less soul in the ruined city.

SOFT BUBBLES
40 Starring Tsubaki
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Chad asked.
Tsubaki tugged on the nylon rope lashed around his ankles, feeling over the knots to
make sure they were secure. The rope pooled around his footpaws in a loose mound, the other
end passed through a hole in the middle of a heavy stone. He looked up at his friend and nodded.
45 “Yes. I want to and I’m ready.”
 The otter leaned down and scritched the white headfur of the nude wolf, causing the
small rowboat to rock gently. Around them, the clear waters of the lake rippled beneath the
summer sun. “This is for real, you know. You’ll die.”
Tsubaki smiled. “I know. But I’ve made my choice and I know I’ll enjoy it.”
5 “Shall I tie your hands?”
“Yeah....I don’t want to be able to escape.”
The wolf murred softly as his otter friend drew his arms behind his back and bound the
wrists tightly with a short length of rope, concealing the black bands of fur there. The start of an
erection was visible between his legs, pink tip slipping forth from soft sheath. Chad licked his
10 cheek softly. The muscular otter was wearing a snug black Speedo and showed a bit of arousal
himself. Perhaps some primal part of him had always wanted to try this. He helped Tsubaki
stand, both of them keeping their balance in the boat. Chad turned the wolf and treated him to a
long, slow kiss. Their tongues touched, quested around one another, curled together for a minute,
and withdrew.
15 “You’re a good friend, Chad,” Tsubaki said softly. “Thank you for doing this.”
“It’s what friends are for,” Chad smiled. “Are you ready, wuff?”
Tsubaki took a deep breath and nodded. “Goodbye....”
Chad lifted the heavy stone weight and flung it over the edge. Tsubaki shut his eyes and
let himself fall, the water rushing up to meet him. He hit with a large splash and immediately
20 began to sink, tugged downwards by the descending rock. The rope around his ankles drew him
into the depths of the lake. It was not a terribly deep body of water, and though it grew colder as
he descended, it was still quite comfortable -- soothing, even. Tsubaki held his breath, wanting to
savor the experience. His heart pounded with excitement and his wolfhood showed full from his
groin. This was it! He was going to drown!
25 The stone hit bottom. Tsubaki bobbed gently, hanging in place in the clear water. He
could see the silty, weed-covered bottom below. Looking up, he saw the refracted blob of the sun
and the wedge shape of the boat. It was like a wonderful dream. The wolf flexed his slender body
slowly, enjoying the feel of water through his fur. His chest was starting to hurt, to need air. He
puffed his cheeks out, determined to last as long as he could. Seconds ticked by, all sound
30 muffled, air out of reach. Tsubaki squirmed slowly and let a single bubble escape his lips. It was
getting very hard to hold them in.
Suddenly, the water was disturbed as a sleek form entered the lake and moved toward the
bound wolf. It was Chad, naked now, his powerful limbs moving him quickly to join Tsubaki.
For a second, the wolf was worried that the otter was going to try and save him. But then Chad
35 stopped and tread water in front of Tsubaki, smiling wide, and the wolf realized that his friend
simply wanted a good view of his demise. Chad’s cock was erect, and he stroked it and let out a
soft underwater croon. Tsubaki smiled. He would give his friend a good show.
Slowly, dreamily, he parted his lips and let a few bubbles slip out, then a few more, then a
stream of them. Soft, fat bubbles, drifting and spiraling upward. His life’s breath escaping,
40 dooming him. It felt so good to know he was dying! Tsubaki’s heart beat with a kind of scared
joy. He tilted his head back and let out a sharp burst of bubbles, the last to come. Nothing left.
His chest screamed for air, and he shuddered and jerked on the rope, twisting his head from side
to side. This was it! This was....
The first lungful of water erased his thoughts in a blaze of pain and pleasure. Tsubaki
45 choked and gurgled, suctioning more water into his mouth and nose. He thrashed, every muscle
standing out. Chad churred as he watched, pawing in earnest now. The drowning wolf looked
 beautiful, his white fur drifting, eyes wide and turned the color of pleasure, mouth frozen in a
silent cry. He arched his back and began to cum as water filled his lungs. His seed formed a
cloud in the water. He shuddered violently and then began to go limp, now breathing the water
freely. His fading eyes found those of his friend, and he managed a soft smile. Chad smiled back,
5 then moaned and came hard, making his own little cloud. As he climaxed, he watched the final
seconds of his friend’s life. Tsubaki’s face went slack, jaw hanging, eyes seeing nothing. He
relaxed, his body losing all movement. The water went yellow with his piss as his body shut
itself down. He looked at peace, joyful and content in his death.
Chad swam forward and placed a kiss on the lips of the drowned wolf. Then he swam up
10 and away, back to the boat, leaving the body to bob in the gentle currents. He felt wonderful, as
if a great deed had been accomplished. And it had, in a way. He had made his friend very, very
happy.

15 SNUFF-A-GUY
Starring Vanyel
The lights came up. The music blared. The live studio audience, consisting entirely of
males in various stages of undress, cheered and whistled as their emcee took the stage.
“Thank you! Thank you!” hissed the Killer Kameleon, pulling on his gaudy bow tie. As
20 always, he wore nothing besides the tie and a sleeveless white button-up shirt. His eyes swiveled
as he beamed upon the audience. “Welcome, boys and men, to Snuff-a-Guy, the show where we
take handsome males and kill them for your viewing pleasure! No rules, no winners, no point!
Just sexy, sexy snuff! Are you ready to see some death?”
The crowd howled its approval. The Killer Kameleon turned and wiggled his rump,
25 smirking. The lights went wild, playing tag all over the massive red velvet curtain that hid the
main stage from view.
“I said, ARE YOU READY TO SEE SOME DEATH?”
Howl. Scream. Affirmative. The Killer Kameleon’s arm made a dramatic swoop as the
curtain parted, revealing a great stainless steel platform in the center of the black stage, brightly
30 lit. The platform was on motorized wheels. A steel crossbeam stretched directly overhead, and a
long rope hung down to the level of the platform. The noose was already tied. The crowd went
nuts, instantly recognizing Snuff-a-Boy’s famous gallows.
“Meet our first doomed boy of the evening!” the Killer Kameleon proclaimed. “He’s a
handsome young dragon who just can’t wait to dance in the air for you all. One hundred percent
35 ready and willing! Let’s hear it for Vanyel!”
The tall green dragon appeared stage right, hands cuffed behind him, smiling wide as a
black-hooded assistant led him into view. His wings were folded neatly against his back, and his
blue eyes shone. He bowed low to the crowd, then began the march up the metal stairs to the
gallows platform. They could see his throat working as he swallowed, nervous but still excited.
40 The tip of his malehood was visible, and growing.
The Killer Kameleon scampered up the stairs after the dragon and his handler, mic in
hand. As Vanyel was marched to the center of the platform, the host held the mic under his nose.
“How are ya feeling, Vanyel?”
“Great!” the dragon replied. “I’m ready to dangle!”
45 “Good boy, good boy! Any final words of wisdom for our audience?”
 Vanyel simply winked out at the crowd and said, “Enjoy!” As they cheered, the assistant
lowered the nylon noose and slipped it down around the dragon’s neck. Vanyel shivered and
murred in his throat, tilting his chin up. The knot was made fast under his jaw. He stood tall and
proud, fully erect as the crowd roared for his demise.
5 With a faint whirr of servos, the gallows platform slid backwards, carrying the Killer
Kameleon and the assistant with it. Vanyel’s claws scraped on the metal as the solid platform left
him behind. He shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and then, “GGACCCCKKKKK!” The platform
was gone, and the dragon was left to hang in midair, fifteen feet above the stage floor,
illuminated from all sides. The crowd panted with lust as his dance began. Green and gold scales
10 flashed and sparkled, muscles twitched, blue eyes bulged wide. He kicked like mad, dancing a
beautiful solo dance for them all to see. The crowd had hushed somewhat; the unspoken rule was
silence. Vanyel drooled down his scaled chest, but although his face was twisted in pain, he was
still smiling.
The noose killed him by slow degrees, stretching out his slender, lovely neck. He strained
15 and rasped helplessly, twisting in place. Drops of pre hit the floor far before his kicking feet. He
spread his wings and flapped, sending gusts into the audience, but it was all for show. He was
dying, and his struggles were more for pleasure than for any attempt to save himself. His body
began to weaken, to go limp. The crowd watched, most of them pawing off. They knew he would
cum soon. Willing or unwilling, all the victims on Snuff-a-Guy came....
20 Dragon seed made an arc in the air, caught by the multicolored lights. It hit the floor.
Vanyel whimpered and closed his eyes, scales flushed around his face and throat. He fell to
twitching fitfully, wings sagging, head pulled to one side. He was almost gone. The crowd waited
for the signal. Almost....almost....there. Slowly, inexorably, the dying dragon’s feet sank so that
his toes pointed straight down. The noise of the crowd began to build, like a cresting wave, rising
25 to great cheers and howls. They cheered for Vanyel, crying his name in thanks. It was the last
sound the dragon heard before all his senses shut down. His bladder emptied with a wet splash,
and he fell still. Death took him in its clutches and bore him away, leaving his gorgeous body to
hang in place in the exact center of the stage, suspended perfectly in empty space.
The Killer Kameleon led the applause, sporting a proud erection of his own. The show
30 was off to a wonderful start!
COMMERCIAL BREAK...

SPIDER’S PREY
35 Starring Darkpaw
One minute there was solid ground beneath his footpaws, the next minute he was falling,
sliding and rolling helplessly down a steep dirt slope. Darkpaw yelped in surprise and struggled
to halt his descent, but gravity had other plans. Down the wolf went, until he suddenly landed on
something flat and fiberous...and sticky.
40 The black wolf whined softly as he struggled to move, dazed from his fall. High above,
he could see late afternoon sunlight filtering through the thick canopy of leaves. It seemed very
far away. Darkpaw had thought that a nice stroll through the deep wood would be good for his
spirits, but he hadn’t counted on this! He tried to sit up, but the surface beneath him held him
fast; he couldn’t lift his head or his limbs more than a foot before they snapped back down. What
45 was this place?
 He looked to the left and to the right. He was in some kind of shadowy hollow, a deep
gully, lying on a pale net made up of many, many individual fibers. He could feel the material
stuck tight to his fur, bonded to him. It was so sticky! It held him pinned and exposed. Darkpaw
whimpered, suddenly wishing he weren’t naked. He loved to get closer to nature, and so he’d left
5 his clothing hidden in a hollow tree some ways back. He wasn’t afraid of getting lost; he could
smell his own backtrail, after all. But now he was trapped, and no one knew where he was.
“Help!” the black wolf cried. “HELP! SOMEONE!” There was no answer, of course. In
the gloom, the trapped wolf looked like a wiggling shadow in the middle of the pale web. He
struggled with all his might, but his predicament only grew worse as more strands touched his
10 fur and were stuck fast. Darkpaw moaned and fell still for a moment, panting.
Then he felt the web vibrate and hum as another weight settled upon it. A fellow hiker,
perhaps? The wolf turned his head awkwardly to see. At first, all he could make out was a vast
dark form moving toward him. Then, with a thrill of terror, he saw the fat body, the eight barbed,
bony legs, the bottomless black eyes and slowly working mandibles. The owner of the web,
15 bigger than a horse. Coming for him.
Darkpaw screamed in primal fear and thrashed in place. He could only watch as the
creature came closer and closer, filling his entire vision. Emotionless eyes gazed down upon the
wolf. Bristly legs reached out to touch him, to lift him. He struggled and howled for his life, but
his fate was truly sealed. The spider began to slowly turn him around and around with its front
20 set of legs, while the lower set drew a long continuous strand of silk from its abdomen.
He was being cocooned. The sticky web inexorably drew his legs together, pinned his
arms to his sides. There was no one to help him, no one to hear his increasingly pitiful screams.
Only the predator. Around and around, pale webbing encasing that wriggling body, hiding him
from view, covering his sheath and balls, his torso, his limbs. Darkpaw opened his mouth to
25 scream one final time, and choked as a thick glob of webbing was spat into his mouth, clogging
it. The spider wound its silk about his head, sealing his muzzle shut, covering his wide, panicked
eyes. Last to vanish were two black eartips.
A tight parcel of silk, a silken bag containing the juiciest, most succulent of prey. The
spider seemed to admire its catch, turning the cocoon this way and that. It was still wiggling
30 faintly, still emitting soft, muffled cries. The outline of the wolf’s form was still visible. The
spider lowered its bloated mouthparts and allowed its ebony fangs to slide through the silk, into
the flesh beneath. The prey twitched violently, then fell to shuddering. The spider carried its prey
deeper into the mass of web, into its lair.
Perhaps he would be eaten now, perhaps hung upside-down and saved for later. It barely
35 mattered. Unfortunately for Darkpaw, spiders tend to prefer their prey alive.

THE GARBAGEMAN’S TALE

Starring Maskedsow
40 I fucking love this job.
Best decision I ever made, becoming a garbageman. Yeah, I’m the guy who prowls the
city streets at night and cleans up your shit, your pizza boxes and used condoms and needles,
your kleenex and dead pets and dirty diapers and all the filth that this heaving, sweating, shitting
mass of life squeezes from its pores every damn day. Me and my wingman, Poe, we’ve got this
45 down to an art. And damn if there aren’t some awesome perks to the job. Poe taught me all about
the stuff we trashmen can get away with, and I was kind of freaked at first, but now I’ve gotten
 into the swing of things. See, it turns out that the best kind of garbage to dispose of is the kind
that begs and pleads.
Awwww, yeah.
Take last night. Me and Poe are cruising when we see this smallish guy walking down the
5 street, hunched over in his hoodie. Poe elbows me and winks. We pull up alongside, offer the kid
a ride. We’re nice guys, right? Sometimes they just tell us to fuck off, but this kid says okay and
climbs in. It’s tight in the cab, and the kid’s half in my lap; I think he’s on something, or maybe
he just needs the company. Kind of a cute little guy. One of those hybrids. I think he’s a pig until
I see the big mouse ears and long tail. Smooth pink skin, long blond hair, glasses. A femboy type.
10 Not bad at all.
We drive to a nice secluded spot behind some warehouse. The kid gets scared, of course,
but me and Poe, we’re real nice to him. Real nice. We get him out of the car and start coming
across real smooth, feeling him up, whispering sweet nothings. He’s shivering, whimpering,
asking to be let go, but not really resisting much. We get his clothes off easy enough. Yeah, a
15 total femboy type: little tiny waist, full hips, all delicate. Nothing femmy about what’s between
his legs, though. Damn, that kid was hung like a fucking woolly mammoth! And I know, ’cause I
felt up every inch of that nice pink cock, got him relaxed enough to press him up against the dirty
metal wall, spread-eagled in the midst of faded graffiti. Poe fucked him first; I may drive, but
he’s the alpha male around here. He mounted and took that little pig-mouse kid so nice, while I
20 watched and played with myself a bit. When it was my turn, I went a little more easy on the kid.
He was whimpering and sniffling, long hair falling around his face, cock rubbing pre all over
some gangbanger’s spray-painted name. I pawed at him a bit, didn’t let him cum. I’m a tease like
that.
Nice kid. Real nice.
25 The best part’s the ending, of course. While I was using the boy, Poe went and got the
duct tape and hefty black trash bags. We keep them behind the seat, for the special kind of
garbage. I finished up, cumming real nice inside the kid, making him moan. Then I held him nice
and tight while Poe began to tape him up. The kid started whining and pleading, of course, but I
just put a hand over his mouth and told him to relax and enjoy things. He couldn’t do much
30 against big boys like us; soon we had his arms taped behind his back, legs taped together at ankle
and knee. Poe unrolled a shiny black bag and held it open. I lifted the kid and lowered him in,
hooves-first. He cried and wailed; it was kind of funny. The trash bag came up to his armpits. We
wrapped it tight around that wiggling body and taped it in place. Then a second bag, over his
head, hiding that frightened, teary face. Down to his knees, wrap it tight, more tape, and we’ve
35 got ourselves a nice bagged kid, all covered in black plastic, all snug and tight.
Perfect.
Me and Poe, we laid the wiggling garbage out on the concrete. Then we crouched down
and played with it, rolling it back and forth, laughing and passing a bottle of cheap whiskey.
When I prodded the bag, I could feel that big cock still nice and hard. Dunno if he spurted; no
40 way to tell. We kept rolling the garbage around until its sexy movements grew less and less, its
whimpering sounds trailed off. After awhile, there was no movement at all even. Just another bag
of garbage, sealed tight, black plastic hiding the contents. We dumped the trash in the back, hit
the button, watched as that massive metal maw closed around the bagged form and crushed it in
with the others. More than one formerly live kid in that truck of ours. But they’re all bagged
45 garbage in the end.
Like I was saying. Fucking love this job.
 RED ON BLACK
Starring Vox
5 They faced each other across the dim room, fists up, ready to fight. Two strong, powerful
bodies, two sets of fanned-out wings, two arrogant smirks. There was no live audience, but
several cameras arranged around the ring broadcasted their every move to their viewers on the
internet. Live entertainment. A fight to the finish.
“Do you really think you can take me, boy?” the older gryphon sneered, flexing for the
10 cameras. His jet-black fur and feathers caught the light.
“I think I can take a fossil like you, yes,” his younger opponent grinned. “And I shall
enjoy seeing you breathe your last.
“Ha! I’ve sent many men to their deaths, boy. Cocky young chicks like you, too. You’ll
be no different.”
15 The younger gryphon flared his crimson plumage and snapped his black beak. “Oh, but I
am different. They will know my name, just as they know yours, Vox Anteron. They will know
of Galen Padishar. Of how he killed that washed-out old relic.”
Vox let out a cry of rage and charged his opponent. Galen raised his arms in defense,
letting out a pained grunt as the two powerful bodies collided. The fight began in earnest. Limbs
20 flailing, beaks snapping, wings beating wildly at the air, the two gryphons had at each other. The
room shook with the impact. The walls reverberated. This was surely how gods fought.
Vox was a more aggressive fighter, using his weight and muscles. Galen was lighter and
more nimble. There was no way to tell who would win, not yet. Galen took a fist across the face.
Vox doubled over as a vicious kick was delivered to his belly. Their bodies -- both nude and oiled
25 -- began to show the strain of the fight, the sweat and bruises. Each gryphon sported an erection;
excited by the fight and the high stakes, their malehoods had come out to duel as well. Two
ebony cocks smacked against one another as they grappled, locking limbs, chests heaving
together. Vox managed to force Galen’s head back and tore at the red gryphon’s throat with his
beak. Galen screeched and fought to be free. He pounded at Vox’s kidneys and the older gryphon
30 released his hold. They staggered apart, bleeding.
“Had....enough....boy?” Vox grinned savagely.
Galen licked blood off his beak. “You fight like a little fox.”
Vox’s pride was his greatest weakness. Again and again, Galen goaded him into making
foolish choices. The black gryphon began to tire, to fight in a more confused, less disciplined
35 manner. Galen danced around him, flinging insults. Vox got in several more vicious blows, but
Galen let the pain invigorate him rather than wear him down. With kicks and buffets, he brought
his opponent to his knees. As Vox struggled to rise, Galen beat him about the head with his
wings, hitting him with the force of a mule’s kick. Vox fell hard and lay on his side, gasping for
breath.
40 Galen forced Vox’s arms behind his back, pinning them in place. Vox squirmed, growling
in rage. Then he felt a furred, muscular cable slide around his throat. Galen’s tail. Vox gasped as
the tail began to constrict with vicious intent, digging into and compressing his neck. He
thrashed and squirmed, gagging and wheezing, tongue lashing at the air. Galen held him pinned.
His legs scrabbled on the stone floor, and his cock stood out rock-hard.
45 “Hush, gryphon,” Galen purred. “Sleep.......relax and sleep....it is over for you. Time to
die.”
 “Nnnno....” Vox rasped. His eyes bulged, lashes fluttering as he fought to stay conscious.
The tail around his throat only tightened like a snake, strangling him. He twitched, groaning
faintly, and began to cum hard. The white seed dotted and streaked his black body as he
orgasmed helplessly, his final shame caught on camera for all the world to see.
5 “Nothing but a slut in the end,” Galen murmured. “A slut who needed to be snuffed out.”
He put all his strength into his tail, mercilessly choking Vox. The older gryphon’s eyes rolled
back and we began to go limp, sweaty muscles failing him now. His wings flopped to either side.
His own tail lashed and curled, then fell still. A deep purple flush was visible beneath his black
fur as he faded away in the grip of his opponent. He let out his death-rattle, long and hoarse. His
10 heart stopped. Vox Anteron died in helplessness, held tight by the one who had finally beaten
him.
Galen stood and let the heavy corpse fall to the stone floor. His tail uncurled from around
Vox’s thick neck, revealing a band of deep bruising. He looked down contemptuously upon that
lordly face, still frozen in a snarl. The crimson gryphon stretched, groaning as joints popped. He
15 made a few poses for the cameras, grinning.
“Yes....yes.....know my name. I am Galen, and when I play, I play to win.”

PERFUME
20 Come, wolf. Come to me. I’m waiting for you.
Follow my trail. Walk my woods. Let your nose pick up the invisible trails of scent. My
perfume, just for you. Do you see the vines that carpet the forest floor, that hang from branches
and embrace gnarled old trunks? My vines. The forest has become a part of me, my body. Just as
you will soon be a part of me, my pretty, pretty wolf.
25 Come. Breathe my perfume. Do you feel it ignite your senses? Do you feel your body
respond? Yes, that’s it, slip out of those clothes. You won’t need them anymore. Feel your nerves
crackle. Feel the blood rush to your most tender places. Feel your cock rise and stand up proud.
Let it happen. Don’t fight. Just breathe. You’re already mine.
Ahhhhh. Here you are. I see your eyes widen at the sight of me. Am I not beautiful? The
30 moon reflects off my surfaces, my map of thick veins, my pods and blossoms, my mouths and
throats. At the center, the great cradle that holds my brain and stomach. I am plant and animal
both, evolved on the minds of my prey, become the perfect predator. I need not hunt. My prey
comes to me, drawn by perfume, by whispers in the leaves. Ready and willing.
Here; I lower a thick flower to you, heavy with nectar. Sip it. Drink deep. Is it not sweet?
35 Does it not refresh more than any mountain spring. Now, let my vines take you. Don’t struggle.
Let them coil about your strong limbs, your fine torso, your soft neck, your nuzzle. Let them
hold you. Does that feel good, wolf? I feel your pleasure. The sounds you make vibrate in my
cilia. Let me stroke your cock. Relax you. Ready you.
Here is a mouth, the mouth that will eat you, wolf. See the firm, moist petals peel back to
40 reveal the snug maw, plant matter acting as muscle. Its many tongues emerge, sticky and
writhing, to wrap about your head and draw you in. I feel your fear. There is no need for it. Enjoy
this, pretty wolf. The mouth tugs at you, clamping tight, swallowing. My vines ease you in,
keeping your struggles to a minimum. Your soft fur and flesh vanishes forever from sight, drawn
in inch by inch. The mouth swallows, the tongues pull you down a tight green throat. Tight,
45 warm, gently crushing your body. Plant-muscle flexes, cilia ripples, pushing your wiggling form
down the throat and into the gullet. The stomach.
 Almost done, wolf. I feel your lust. I feel your soft moans. The veined sphincter opens
wide and admits you into my stomach. Soft tendrils draw you into the small lake of digestive
enzymes. This will not hurt. It may even be pleasurable for you. Your body slides under the
surface, into the thick brew, lying amid the soft, half-digested bones of former prey. Do you feel
5 yourself begin to digest? It will take some time. Already, your fur is drifting away in clumps,
your flesh is beginning to bubble, eroded by acid. Relax, pretty wolf. All your strength and
beauty will flow into me now. I will drink you. I will absorb your thoughts and memories. You
will become part of me. Part of the plant. Like so many others.
Breathe deeply, my dear wolf. Breathe the brew into your lungs. Drown in it. Your flesh
10 is coming apart, softened and dissolved, layers of muscle and fat giving way. You are becoming a
cloud, spreading out in the water. You are dead now, I know. Yet, you will live on in some way.
You will be immortal. You will be me. As your old body nourishes me, you will now feel your
new body, your body of vines and flowers, of sweet nectar and perfume.
Spread our perfume, wolf. Send it out into the world. Catch us some prey.