Kintaro growled to himself as he rummaged through his locker, stuffing the small amount of items it contained haphazardly into his tiger fur satchel. He should have known better than to trust those impudent dogs. Oh, sure, he needed the money; recently, everyone did. Times were hard in Outworld, and even the ruling elite like himself were forced to scrounge around like peasants for any employment willing to take their apprenticeship. When the Earth gaming company Midway somehow found their way into Outworld and established a branch there, he had thought they were a godsend, especially when they had inquired him and his lords Goro and Shao Kahn about making a series of games based on their involvement in the infamous Mortal Kombat tournaments. However, he never realized just how treacherous and deceiving the Earth corporation could be. Despite his popularity among fans of the new game series, Midway had so far called him in for a total of three games, all of which were more or less cameo appearances that only warranted a tiny pittance as payment. So, when the infernal company called him again with a new game idea, promising a bigger pay cut and more screen time, he was skeptical of their words, but his financial shortages forced him to accept.

	His suspicions were well-founded; his 'compensation' was only marginally better than what he had gotten before, just barely enough to sustain him for the next four months, and his part in the game was little more than the standard motion-capture for his character, and a bit part in the game's "Konquest Mode" playing his own phantasm. Worse yet, the company had determined to terminate the contracts of many of the Kombatants who participated in the series' creation, deciding to start with a "clean slate" and a brand new and fictional storyline...and he was one of the casualties. This, understandably, infuriated the former Shokan general, who now had no way of making ends meet, especially since his pre-Midway employers abandoned him soon after their popularity started to grow among the game's fans. Most of his previous finances were all from his employment to them, but while they were still financially secure due to their previous standing as esteemed Outworld royalty, he - as a lowly general - was not.

	As he angrily shoved the last of his things into his bag, he heard the familiar clopping of heavy hooves against stone, an enraged snort of discontent following close behind, and knew without looking who it was: Motaro, that insufferable Centaur, who he had to admit got - as the humans put it - "the bigger shaft" in his contract. He gave a small chortle as the newly bipedal horseman slammed his impressively large fist into the nearby lockers, denting the metal as he muttered a curse that the tiger-Shokan could barely hear. Despite his people's enmity towards the Centaur race, he couldn't help but feel sorry for Motaro; he was also popular among the series' fans, but his appearances were even less than Kintaro's, and this time around, he was contractually obligated to undergo a painfully disfiguring spell by Midway's crackpot sorcerers before he was even allowed to be in the game. Not only was the salary not worth the indignity, but the sorcerers lost the counter-spell to return him to normal, thus leaving him stuck in a Minotaur-like state.

	Kintaro slung the handle of his satchel over his shoulder and slammed the locker door, smiling thinly as he stood up. "They dismissed you, too, I'm assuming," he grunted to the Centaur, glancing over his shoulder to give the other male the most imperceptible of glances.

	Motaro grunted, nodding curtly. "As if you care," he mumbled, sourly. "We Centaurs are apparently too expensive for Midway to effectively hire for any more of their worthless games, not when they are too stupid to work with our superior body structures! If I still had all four legs, I would stomp Boon and Vogel into a bloody paste beneath my hooves! 'Four legs can't cut it in a fighting game', indeed..."

	Kintaro snarled a little at Motaro's boast of having a superior frame, but reminded himself - with a tad of surprise - that Motaro was merely venting his frustration in being cut from his contract, and the incompetence of Midway's sorcerers. Sure, the former Centaur could've asked one of the other sorcerers on the cast - Shang Tsung and Quan Chi - or the deposed gods Raiden, Fujin, and Shinnok for help with whipping up a new counter-spell for his condition, but Midway had locked him in a contractual bind preventing him from asking aid from anyone but the company's magic-users, and besides that, with finances so tight as they were and the other gods and sorcerers' popularity substantially increased throughout the series' life, there was no doubt that they would've demanded a hefty fee for aiding Motaro, money that Kintaro knew the Centaur didn't have.

	"As much as I enjoy seeing you in such torture, half-breed," Kintaro sneered, "I have to admit I share your hatred towards our employers. I was perfectly acceptable as a Shokan with stripes, but Boon had to insist on giving me a more tigrine form. Thank the Elder Gods I put a stop to all that nonsense before he and his blasted sorcerers gave me feline ears and a damned tail!"

	"At least you got to keep most of your parts, you four-armed freak," Motaro retorted, accusatory. "I had to lose half of my body to even accept work, this time around. And now I can't even change back! I'll be the laughing stock of my people; even that flamboyant pony boy Zebron will gain more respect than I, after this insolence."

	Kintaro dropped his satchel and stared the Centaur straight in the eye in challenge. "My heart bleeds for your plight, half-breed."

	The two enemies stared each other down for a few seconds, waiting for the other to take the first shot, but before blows could be exchanged, the doors to the locker room burst open - almost literally - as a huge draconian form stormed in, bellowing in rage and startling the two combatants into abandoning their hostilities.

	"Damn that bastard Boon! Damn him and the rest of Midway to the lowest depths of the Netherealm!"

	The two Outworld natives watched as Onaga, the once and former Dragon King, raged past them, the lizard's serpentine tail thrashing back and forth in enraged irritation. As he passed by his locker, Onaga uttered an unearthly roar and wrenched its door off its hinges, tossing the rendered steel away as he continued to pound on the lockers around him.

	"Who in the name of the Elder Gods does Boon think he is, trying to renegotiate my contract without my knowledge?!" Onaga bellowed, slamming his fists into the wall behind the lockers, smashing a twin set of craters into the Sheetrock. "I was to be the 'final boss' of this last game, that was the agreement; so how in the Netherealm could Boon justify replacing me with that...that....living firebrand? If I were still Emperor, I would rend that traitorous cur limb from limb and use his blood to polish my scales!"

	Kintaro had to stifle a chuckle as he watched the dragon fume, enjoying the damage Onaga's temper tantrum was causing. Motaro, however, was far more stoic. "At least you do not need this pittance they give as a salary to survive, oh great one," he grumbled, sarcastically.

	Bad move; Onaga turned towards the Centaur, eyes aflame in insult. "And what, pray tell, are you insinuating with that?"

	"Only that if you and your kind in the royal elite weren't so stingy with your spoils," Motaro snapped, pointedly, jabbing a finger at the Dragon King's chest, "then maybe your subjects wouldn't have to submit ourselves to such indignity just to survive."

	Onaga simply stared down at the impetuous Centaur, too angry to respond. His gaze was met in kind by Motaro, and it appeared that they would break out in a brawl right then and there, had twin pairs of Shokan hands not have pushed them away, their owner blocking any hope of their retaliation on one another.

	"This is getting us nowhere," Kintaro declared, eyes narrowed in warning. He waited a beat for the two Outworlders to calm down, then continued. "It is clear that we are all in the same predicament, some of us more than others." He glanced between his companions. "We cannot change what has happened to us, but we can determine what will happen to us in the future, so I suggest we stop bickering amongst ourselves and start figuring out what to do with our lives, now that we are unemployed."

	Motaro frowned gravely. "That's easy for you to say, Shokan. With the loss of my full Centaur form, I'm now an outcast among my people. I cannot go back to my tribe, and no one in Outworld would hire half a Centaur."

	"Who says you have to stay in Outworld?" questioned Kintaro, impatiently. "Surely there are other realms you could go to that would offer you haven and employment. What about Chaosrealm? I hear they accept anyone, no matter how...deformed they may be. They may even revere your disfigurement."

	"That's enough, you four-armed house cat!" spat Motaro, clearly insulted by Kintaro's words. "It's bad enough that you have to remind me of the loss of my legs, but to insinuate that I go to that Elder God-forsaken realm? I would rather die than suffer such indignity."

	Kintaro snorted, unwilling to give the Centaur the pleasure of a response, and turned to Onaga, who seemed to be lost in thought, at the moment. "And what of you, Dragon King? What do you have to say about this?"

	Onaga growled, as if contemplating something he was not want to do, otherwise, and nodded. "The Shokan is right; We have all been suffering under this depression, and now the treachery of Midway. I am loathe to admit it, but we cannot survive alone, in this state."

	Motaro simply sneered at the dethroned Dragon King. "That much is obvious, scaled one. But if you are implying what I think you are..."

	"You said it yourself, Centaur, you cannot go back to your own people. And you, Kintaro, have fallen out of favor with your prince and my usurper. Going back to your former lives is not possible, but I can offer a solution. It is true that I have a large cache of treasure hidden away from my time as emperor of this forsaken realm; far more than I have need for, even now. I would be inclined to offer you both sanctuary at my palace, use my assets to aide you in this time of need."

	Motaro laughed, unable to believe what he had just heard. "Such absurdity! You expect me to pigeonhole myself away with you and that Shokan? Hmph! Such a fate would be almost as bad as cowering as a vagrant in Chaosrealm! Furthermore, what would we need to do to earn such an offer? I refuse to submit myself to either of you for a few more coins in my purse and a dark room to sleep in..."

	"ENOUGH!" Kintaro roared, tired of this ceaseless prattle. "Do what you will, Motaro, but Onaga is correct; we have little choice in this matter. Anything would be better than subjugating myself to this misery, again." He turned to his draconian comrade and nodded. "Your offer is most gracious, Onaga. I am...'honored'...to accept it."

	Onaga smirked in satisfaction, thankful that at least one of his companions had some sense in him. "I will send an escort to your dwelling shortly, then. He will take you to my palace when you are ready." He shot a glance at Motaro, the Centaur still sneering in disgust. "Last chance, Centaur. What say you?"

	For several seconds, Motaro glared at the others, silently, He hated to admit it, but they were right; he had no other option. With his deformity preventing him from returning to his place among his people or gaining any favor with potential employers, he would be as good as dead within a matter of days. With a sneer, he snorted and shook his head in frustration. "Fine! I will accept your offer, Onaga. Just don't expect me to be as grateful for your hospitality as Kintaro."

	"As long as you harbor no trouble within my lair, I care not what you do. It is agreed, then; I will expect you at my palace this evening. Until then..."

	With that, Onaga left the two enemies to attend to his own packing. Motaro likewise gave Kintaro a defiant snort before doing the same. Picking up his satchel, Kintaro took his leave, an odd smile of anticipation on his lips... 


				   Exactly as planned...


	That evening, as the sun began to set on the desolate wastelands of Outworld, twin Chinese dragons broke through the perpetual cloud cover, twisting and weaving as they flew to their destination. Clutched in their claws were the few meager possessions of their passengers, Kintaro and Motaro, who wrapped themselves around the shoulders of the dragons, hanging on for dear life. Their destination: the shadow of a semi-dormant volcano, upon the side of which was carved a massive dragonic palace, its courtyard dotted with statues of the Dragon King. With an announcing roar, the twin dragons spiraled down, swooping low to encircle the courtyard proper before finally landing, The passengers staggered off of the mighty steeds and struggled to stay upright as a green humanoid dragon-like creature, a bit larger and more spiky than the red brethren behind him, approached.

	“We welcome you to our humble abode,” the serpentine figure hissed, bowing with all sincerity. “I am Tiamat, the master's loyal servant. He has been expecting you...”

	Motaro snorted, his legs still shaky from the flight over. “I bet he has. Was it truly necessary for us to travel here in such a...a...” He couldn't finish his sentence as he felt a wave of nausea wash over him, eliciting a sickly cough from him as he struggled not to vomit.

	Tiamat reached over to gently pat the centaur on the back. “I know it must've been difficult for you, who are so used to traveling on the ground, but as you could see upon your approach, it is difficult if not impossible to reach this site otherwise.” He reached up and handed an unusual herb to the centaur, one of his red comrades doing the same to Kintaro as the others gathered up their things. “Here, this will help with the nausea and vertigo.”

	Motaro eyed the strange plant, suspiciously, then glanced over to his Shokan counterpart; Kintaro, likewise, was suspicious of the herb, but nodded and tentatively placed it in his mouth, chewing lightly. Almost immediately, the Shokan seemed to look steadier; he no longer was holding his stomach, and while he still stumbled as he walked, it wasn't as bad as before. Not to be outdone, the centaur followed, surprised at the thick, sweet mint taste of the plant's secretions as he ate it. As he swallowed, he felt the plant's tranquilizing agent cure him of his illness, his stomach settling down gradually as his balance was regained.

	Tiamat grinned as his master's new guests took the herb, pleased at the trust that had already started to build between the two outsiders and his lord. “My associates will show you to your individual quarters. We pray you make yourselves at home with us, and if you are in need of anything, just let us know.”

	Motaro grimaced as the red dragon humanoids gestured for him to follow them, still unsure of the decision he made in coming here. “Where is Onaga? Did he feel it not necessary to greet us in person?”

	“Our lord is...busy; you are his guests here, and we are in need of instruction on how to best fulfill your...individual necessities. He knows it will be...difficult for all of us to get used to your presence here for some time, but he is a wise ruler and is making preparations to make this transition as smooth as possible.”

	Motaro glanced at Kintaro, still unsure, but the Shokan seemed to accept the dragon's explanation with grace. “Very well. Lead on, then; I wish to see the accommodations our host has provided for us.”

	Tiamat smiled and nodded, bowing deeply. “As you wish, Master Kintaro. One last thing, though; our lord wishes you two to meet him in the main dining area in three hour's time, as to discuss with you personally all that will transpire during your stay, with us. After that, you may do whatever you wish while you're here, within reason.”

	Motaro sneered. “You mean within the reasons of our 'gracious' host.”

	Kintaro growled at the centaur in warning. “You accepted Onaga's offer, same as I, and it is reasonable that he place some ground rules on what we can and cannot do within his domain. If you are having second doubts, you can get back on that dragon and fly home.”

	With that, the Shokan left, following his little troupe of dragons into the palace's massive gates. Motaro gulped as his gaze shifted between Kintaro and the dragons they had rode in on, another wave of nausea building up despite the herb's effectiveness. With a sigh of defeat, the centaur followed the Shokan in, mumbling to himself how he let himself get talked into this...




	True to Tiamat's word, the accommodations Onaga had provided them were fairly plush; Kintaro was given a massive suite deep inside the palace's bowels, overlooking the still-molten crater within. A large natural hot spring bubbled up from one end of the room, while the other contained furniture specifically crafted for a Shokan of Kintaro's size and stature. Motaro, on the other hand, was given free reign of Onaga's stables, the half-dozen dreadhorses that inhabited it whickering to the centaur in greeting as he, too, marveled at how well-crafted and accurate his new living quarters were designed. True, he felt a twinge of guilt and jealousy over the horses, their large, stable frames reminding him of his own deformity, but their comforting whinnies and the familiar smell of hay and horse musk loosened him up. 

	After marveling their new surroundings, the two enemies started to unpack; toiletries, clothing, and other essentials were quickly put away, but more personal stuff... Kintaro looked around before unpacking his last bag, much bigger than the others he had with him, making sure no one was eavesdropping before pulling out a massive black crystal horse phallus. He grinned as he watched the lights of the glowing molten rock below reflect off the jeweled shaft in a prismatic orgy before his eyes. He felt his leather girdle tent as he placed the phallus down on the bed beside him, and proceeded to remove the other objects in the bag: a long string of obsidian anal beads, the largest of which was twice as big as all four of his fists put together; thick, heavy shackles meant to bound a Shokan fast to whatever object their owner wished to be bound to; other bejeweled dildos of various sizes and shapes, thick leather harnesses and obsidian rings and rods fused together into wicked shapes meant to fit over Kintaro's apparently massive girth; and finally, several gallons of volcanic oil, a lubricant created by the sloughed-off impurities of Kuatan lavaflows that the Shokan had long used for various things, from greasing up mechanical instruments to other, more lewd practices. A heavy and private load to bear, to be sure, and indeed, it took three of Onaga's servants to carry it the meager distance into the palace that they had before Kintaro took over. Fortunately for him, none asked what was inside, though he had overheard various murmured guesses from the dragonic slaves, including exercise weights and ceremonial weapons, the latter of which the Shokan were famous for crafting. 

	Kintaro looked around, again, with a cautious eye, before turning to the mechanical clock on the room's rock face: 1700 hours, less than 2 and a half hours before his audience before Onaga. Just enough time for him to release some tension he had built up over this. Grinning wickedly to himself, Kintaro picked up the obsidian horse dildo and a keg of oil with his top arms and began to lube the crystal phallus up, while his bottom arms struggled to undo his girdle, the tent within it growing to a good 5 inches, barely enough to reveal the thick hunk of meat within. Moaning in anticipation, the tigerine Shokan managed to wrestle the tight fabric off of him, exposing a nicely toned, shapely ass and a thick feline sheath and heavy, cantaloupe-sized balls as he finished slickening the shaft in front of him. He murred as he took the phallus and placed it on the ground, its glistening length barely coming up to his waist as he positioned it behind him, right between his buttocks. Reaching back to the keg of oil in front of him, he scooped out another handful, bringing the dribbling substance behind and between his furred cheeks, stiffening as he slowly forced his hand deep within his puckered anus. The fist went in easily, but not without a twinge of discomfort; thanks in part to the busy schedule he had with his short stint at Midway, Kintaro didn't have much time or privacy left to him during the off-hours for this kind of fun, and it showed as he met with resistance, arching his back with a grunt as his hand got stuck within him at the elbow. 

	However, he would not be denied; Bracing himself, he forced himself to relax as he thrust his arm in deeper, the pain growing in intensity as the thick appendage wormed its way to the mid-bicep – the deepest he could get his arm into himself, even at his peak. The pain was excruciating by then, but he couldn't hold the position for long, and his lust had grown beyond the point of him caring, his sheath hanging low as his erection – all 18 inches of fist-wide Shokan meat – bobbed needingly between his legs. He gripped the frame of the bed as he started to pump his arm like a piston into his tight ring, the pain subsiding a little as the muscled appendage thrust itself harder and deeper into him. The feeling was intense; he had always loved taking it up the ass, as thick and as deep as he could possibly go, and for a Shokan, that was very thick and deep indeed, if his toys were any indication. However, hardly anyone knew about it; as the former general of Shao Kahn himself, he had to show impossible strength and superiority at all times, and any hint of his sexually submissive nature during that time would've been his downfall. That didn't mean that he didn't have the occasional big-cocked lover; it was tradition for male Shokans to take each other sexually when their many wives were unable to put out, but those usually meant a battle of dominance between the two lust-ridden males, with the loser being all but raped by the winner – he couldn't simply throw the battle, and was thankful that he was able to find a precious few Shokan males who would keep his secret and ravage him in his most private of quarters. 

	After a few minutes of this self-fisting, Kintaro slowly pulled his arm out, thankful that he still had the time to ensure he was always clean back there despite his busy schedule. Grabbing the head of the giant dildo as his fist slipped out of his stretched rectum, Kintaro crouched down, moaning as his arm was replaced with the head of the massive phallus. He steadied himself with his upper arms, one keeping the dildo stable while the other braced himself against the bed as he eased himself onto the thick pole. Instinctively, his lower arms reached for his malehood, one hand gripping and stroking his feline member while the other groped and kneaded his hefty ballsac. Within moments the thick, 4 ½ foot long shaft had sunk a good third of the way into him, the hard crystal prodding gently against his prostate and evoking a moan of ecstasy from the Shokan. Unfortunately, as he tried to push the hard crystal phallus deeper into himself, pain shot through Kintaro's spine, warning that he was still too rusty to take any more. It was a disappointing feeling for the mighty Shokan; he prided himself, secretly, for having the widest and deepest ass in the whole of Outworld, able to take things that even the most obsessive bottom could only dream of. So, to be so out of shape that he couldn't even take the horse dildo, one of his more lucrative toys, was a severe blow to his ego.

	That didn't stop him from enjoying it while he could; repositioning himself, he turned his back towards the bed, scootching his ass and the phallus hanging from it flush against the side. He reached down with one hand to simultaneously steady himself and measure where on the dildo the top of the bed's mattresses came to. To his delight, it came up to nearly where his sphincter had stopped swallowing the toy, meaning he could safely bounce on it wantonly without having to worry about it penetrating any further and potentially harming him. And that's precisely what he did, gripping the side of the bed for support as he rode the crystal phallus hungrily, continuing to fondle himself in time with his rabid thrusting. It was a feeling he had long denied himself due to his busy schedule, and a feeling he relished returning to; the almost painful fullness in his ass as it was stretched beyond what most Shokan thought would be possible to accommodate the massive intruder, wide enough that his lovers teased him about using any puny mortals he defeated in kombat as makeshift dildos afterward; the rough, almost brutal drilling of the dildo in his ass; the total release of inhibitions as he gave himself fully to his submissive nature, quietly mumbling phrases such as “Please, master...” and “Punish me, sir, punish this cockslut's boycunt good...” which denoted quite clearly his current mindset of being a literal and willing cumdump to whatever horny, aggressive, and massively-endowed males he encountered. 

	He slammed his hips into the bed harder, the stimulation of his anus being so tortured becoming more than he could bear. He needed to cum so badly, so desperately, that he would've done anything to do so...including unknowingly drive the dildo further into his aching ass. So lost in his growing orgasm was he, that he didn't realize that he had slipped off the edge of the bed, his rampant thrusting forcing more and more of the rigid horse phallus painfully deeper into his ass, his body protesting almost violently as it threatened to puncture his intestines in his mad lust. But even with the lack of consistent training, his rectum had been conditioned too well to not handle the insistent invader, deftly flexing and working the shaft into a more comfortable position until, finally, after a full hour and a half after he started, Kintaro had reached his goal of full-hilt penetration. 

	As soon as his buttocks came down flush with the base of the enormous toy, the rush of the pain and pleasure he experienced just getting it there proved the last straw for him; with a mighty roar, his balls contracted in a fit of spurts, unleashing their load all over his lower hands, his chest, and the floor in front of him. His anus spasmed around the toy within, his abused inner walls sending combined waves of pain and pleasure all over his body as his mind locked in a brief illusion of being fucked by an incredibly rough, brutal, and horny lover. The euphoria he felt from such an intense orgasm kept him in a state of semi-consciousness as, for the next 15 minutes, he drenched himself with his own semen, the weeks of self-denial he was forced into while working on that infernal game of Midway's finding release in one blast of orgasmic bliss. That was the one failing that his lovers had with him; he was very sizable and virile himself, enough to satisfy any male or female he wanted, but he was such a cockwhore and submissive, no one could get him to fuck them, in return. It wasn't a total loss, as at least they were allowed to help him clean up after each session, and that same toysmith he knew had convinced him to allow him to make a spurting copy of his own cock for sale to his other customers, but it was still a letdown to his lovers that they were constantly on top.

	Eventually, the orgasm died down, allowing Kintaro to slump against the side of the bed, the soreness of his intense self-rape catching up with him. His body was drenched with his own cum, the huge puddle before and below him a testament to how pent up he was. His guts and anus ached, the rod in his back passage feeling more and more unwanted as the numbing sensation from the orgasm faded. He was pretty sure he drew blood from the toy, but thankfully, he didn't feel anything torn or punctured. Despite himself, he smiled, contently; it had been such a long time since he had as brutal and vicious of a fuck as he had, just then, and it felt good, despite the pain. It was customary for Shokan who dominated each other to show no mercy in their lovemaking should they be on top; male or female, the dominant always had free reign to do with the submissive as they pleased, and in the kind of constantly adversarial, dog-eat-dog world of the Shokans, that meant the submissive being an abused fucktoy for the dominant. It was the only part of the Shokan mating rituals that Kintaro enjoyed; he loved the roughness, he loved being dominated, and he loved being used and abused by an aggressive male with a huge dick like the undeserving slut he was. He just wished he didn't have to through up a facade and fight for a chance at it...

	The clock on the wall dinged the hour, alerting Kintaro to the fact that a full hour and a half had passed since he first tried to use his toys, leaving him with just under an hour to prepare for the dinner with his host. Grunting in pain, the Shokan braced himself against the bed as he attempted to stand on wobbly legs, a sharp, half-pained groan escaping his throat as he felt his ass all too willingly release the thick, hard invader within. With a wet *plop!*, the dildo slipped free, tiny rivulets of blood trailing down its shaft to indicate the intensely brutal raping he subjected himself to. His vision blurred from the afterglow, it was all he could do to keep himself upright as he hobbled over to the hot springs, easing himself in and hissing as the hot, salty volcanic water washed over and inside him, cleaning him thoroughly. He cursed himself gently as the springs flooded his abused anus, the heat and stinging salt scouring the tiny tears on his inner walls, wishing he had taken the time to prepare himself, better. But it couldn't have been helped; he had waited too long to seek release, and besides, if his plans came to fruition, he's going to need to get used to being fucked that hard...

	His musings were interrupted by a knock at his chamber door. Growling at the sudden intrusion, he called out for whoever was at the door to wait for him as he climbed out of the springs, grunting at the soreness still entrenched in his frame as he limped back toward the bed, grabbing the crystal dildo along the way. Reaching into one of his bags, he grabbed a fur-lined towel big enough to cover himself with as he hastily stuffed his toys back in. He had just replaced the last of his unmentionables when he heard the door open behind him, a meek, hissing breath slithering inside. He turned his head, throwing up an air of irritated haughtiness as he saw Tiamat creep halfway through the threshold.

	“What do you want?” He growled, trying to sound authoritative, but aware of the worried tone that tinged his voice. Of all the times for him to be interrupted...

	Tiamat gulped and cleared his throat, trying not to look at the obvious pool of white in front of the Shokan, or the oddness of his stature, or the thick stink of male sex-musk in the air. “My master wishes to know what you prefer for your meal, this evening.”

	Kintaro glared at the dragonman, the dagger-like gaze causing him to step back a little and eep in fear. “I care not what it is, as long as it's a Shokan dish..” His stare deepened, dropping the poor dragon almost to a cower. “I pray that Onaga had the sense of mind to equip his chefs with the knowledge on how to prepare such a dish.”

	Tiamat nodded, stutteringly, the fright in his eyes clear as day. “I understand, sir. I will inform the chefs, immediately.” And with that, the dragon left, deftly closing the door behind him.

	Kintaro held his stance for a good few minutes to make sure the lizard had in fact left and he would not be disturbed, then sighed in relief, relaxing himself. He was lucky the dragon didn't inquire him about anything else; it would've been very hard for him to explain away the scene before him. He needed to be more careful; one false move and his ruse will be undone before it's even begun. Grabbing a fresh loincloth from his bags, the tigrine Shokan got dressed, easing the article of clothing over his hips and buttocks gently so as not to inflame the soreness within them again. He glanced back at the puddle of cum behind him, sighing as he contemplated how to clean it up, then smirked. This was going to be a long couple of months...


Kintaro is a horny cockslut? Who'da thunk?


	“So, Shokan, you finally decided to join us,” Motaro snorted, derisively, as Kintaro seated himself at his place at Onaga's banquet table, trying hard not to show his discomfort as he eased into the chair gingerly. The banquet room was huge, spanning a good hundred feet square, and lit with all manner of torches and elaborate candelabras. Dotted along the was were intricate statues carved into the very pillars, mighty beasts of all kinds in various poses, mostly dragonmen, though Kintaro did see a few Centaurs and Shokan in the mix, among other, unrecognizable creatures. All were engulfed by battle lust, frozen in either a struggle for life and death or a triumphant war cry, though Kintaro could've sworn that, through the trick of the shadows, he could see each one as being carved nude and very much anatomically correct, even if the poses and shadow did well to hide their nakedness.

	Upon the grandiose table positions in the middle of the room was a literal smörgåsbord of food, mainly meat, cheese and wine, but also greens and grains for Motaro to snack on. A large roast of a beast of some kind was placed as the focus of the display, its flesh already carved for easy pickings. Even Kintaro was taken aback by this sight; he knew that Onaga had a small fortune hidden away from his time as Emperor of Outworld, but even it couldn't afford such a luxury. He shot a barely noticeable, worrying glance at Onaga, seated at the head of the table as he should be on a luxurious throne of black wood and stone, both carved with intricate dragon patterns on them; Perhaps he underestimated the Dragon King, and if so, that could be very bad news for him indeed.

 	Onaga frowned in dictatorial seriousness as he watched the Shokan seat himself, waiting for his guest to be comfortable before speaking. “I am pleased that you two have chosen to take up my offer of hospitality in this time of need. As your host, I will do everything in my power to ensure you two live comfortably and satisfactory in my castle, but do not forget that this is my castle; I expect you to respect my domain, my servants, and me while you stay here; any insubordination or threats will not be tolerated. Is that clear?”

 	Kintaro nodded in agreement, still eyeing the dragonman worryingly. Motaro, though, was less tactful. “Yes, it is a generous offer, isn't it? Grovelling at your feet simply for a place to sleep, feh...”

 	Onaga glared at the impudent Centaur, snarling a bit in frustration. “You had your chance to back out, Motaro, and you chose to stay. If you are unhappy with your arrangements here, then pack your bags, and I will have my guards escort you outside my gates, where you will walk home.”

	Motaro matched Onaga's stare, trying to act defiant, though Kintaro could tell that the Centaur was still unsure of what he wanted. “The quarters you gave me are...adequate. What I'm concerned about, is what ground rules you have to keep us in line while we stay here. I will not prostrate myself as a slave to you, if that is what you wish as your payment...”

	Onaga snorted in enraged humor. “If I wanted you as a slave, I would've clasped you in irons the moment you stepped foot in my domain and locked you in my bedchamber, whelp!” Onaga smirked as he saw Motaro's eyes widen in shock as the Centaur processed his words, completely oblivious to that same look of incredulity on Kintaro's own visage. “What I wish from you – either of you – is simply to not make yourselves a burden to me or my servants. As I said before, I care not what you do while you stay here, as long as you cause no trouble. No destruction of my property, no abuse of my men, and no squabbles or fights with myself or each other, unless it is for training purposes.”

	Motaro sneered, shooting a sideways glance to his Shokan counterpart. “You expect me to be cordial to him? Preposterous...”

	Kintaro, growing tired of this constant bickering, spoke up, once again assuming the role of mediator between the two males. “You knew that would be a possibility, half-breed, and you accepted, nonetheless. Besides, I believe that is why our host placed us in different wings of his castle; if we do not wish to interact with each other, we will simply stay out of each other's way.”

 	Onaga nodded. “Indeed; I will expect you both to attend any festivities I hold, on occasion, and expect you both to be cordial with one-another when you do, but other than that, you may interact with one another as much or as little as you wish, while you stay, here. If you need anything, or wish to inform me or each other of something without wanting to disturb us, my servants will be obliged to service you. Keep your private affairs private, make no trouble in this castle, and I will give you as  much leeway as you need. If you do not, you will no longer be welcome in my home. Is that understood?”

	Motaro glowered, still debating whether or not this was a good idea. He needed this; he couldn't return home in his current condition, and he had to admit that his quarters were rather luxurious. He could not detect any hint of deceit, malice, or hidden agenda in the Dragon King's words...but something kept nagging at him, warning him that he would regret accepting Onaga's offer. Certainly, the warning the Dragon King gave him about what he'd do to him as a slave was disturbing, enough so to make him question the sanity of staying here. But other than that, there were no other indication of danger, and Onaga didn't act like he was going to make good on his slave threat, anyway. Sighing in defeat, the Centaur simply gave a curt nod toward his host, resigning himself to a fate he knew he had no choice but to accept. 

	Onaga noticed this and smiled, thinly, pleased at Motaro's concession. “Now, if that matter is settled, let us sup. My chefs have created many dishes from your respective cultures to the best of their ability. I hope it is to your satisfaction.”

	And with that, feasting began, a host of dragonmen filing into the room to prepare and serve whatever the three ordered. Motaro's plate, not surprisingly, composed of mainly greens and grains, as fitting for a Centaur, though he did indulge in a smattering of meat and mead, as well. Kintaro, by contrast, loaded his plate with chunks of meat and cheese and bread, carefully ordering the servants to keep his glass filled with wine to wash down his meal. Onaga's dish, typically, was filled with nothing but meat, though he ate with more dignity and less crassness than his compatriots. At least they weren't making slobs out of themselves; despite their informal way of eating, neither Kintaro nor Motaro spilled their food or drink, nor tossed the refuse of their meal on the floor or onto the table, and they were cordial with the servers in their demands. Onaga smiled imperceptibly behind his meal; his guests were learning much quicker than he anticipated. As long as they kept this up, he should have no problems with either of them.

	One thing that did disturb him, though, was the lack of conversation between himself and his guests. It was not surprising to him that the Centaur and Shokan would refuse to speak to each other; their peoples were still very much at odds with one-another, despite the long and drawn-out ceasefire that Princess Kitana imposed on them shortly before Onaga's resurrection, but each attempt he made to address either of them for a dialog with him was met with vague grunts and one-word responses that indicated neither one of them cared to entertain him. After a while, the Dragon King gave up, and allowed the dinner to take its course without his interference. After a good half-hour of eating, both of his guests declared their fill and excused themselves with his blessing, returning to their respective quarters. After they left, Onaga glanced around the room at his retainers, all of whom were lined up in perfect formation, awaiting orders, and nodded, signaling for them to be allowed to partake in the meal, themselves.

	As the servants seated themselves, Onaga turned to the closest one to him, his loyal second Tiamat, and sighed heavily. “Those two will be a pain in the tail to accommodate, Tiamat.”

 	The green dragonoid hissed in agreement, helping himself to some of what remained of the roast beast. You have no idea, master... “They are having difficulty adjusting to the change, master. Give it time; they are bound to expose themselves more readily, the more acclimated to their new home they become.” Tiamat smiled as he said that, his eyes flashing in forbidden knowledge that Onaga only barely perceived.

	“I suppose you are right, my servant,” the Dragon King muttered, allowing himself to slouch in his chair, a little, in weariness. “We must keep a close eye on them, however; with as volatile as they are, in their current state, I fear I may come to regret my charity.”

	Tiamat nodded, gulping down a sizable chunk of meat before responding. “I shall see to that, personally, master. I will assure you, they will cause no trouble in your domain, on my watch.”


Uh-oh... Kintaro is in big trouble...


	The next couple of weeks were pretty uneventful, for all involved. As predicted, neither Kintaro nor Motaro ventured far beyond the confines of their quarters, and never stepped anywhere near each other. Neither one interacted much with Onaga, either, which disappointed the Dragon King, but they seemed to become more comfortable around his servants, accepting their assistance more readily as time went on, and even engaging in very small talk with them, on occasion. Motaro was still as arrogant as he was when he first stepped foot in Onaga's domain, but he was slowly reining his attitude in, his presence becoming less and less grating on Onaga and his vassals. Kintaro, on the other hand, was a model guest, doing nothing to arouse the suspicion or wrath of the Dragon King or the other servants during his stay. In fact, ever since his run-in with Tiamat on his first day there, the Shokan had been avoiding the dragonman, almost as if he feared what would happen if they encountered each other, again. He was also much more careful with his affairs, keeping mostly to himself, strictly keeping his more private matters to a tight regimen to ensure he can prevent Onaga's men from catching him “in the act” again, and always meticulously cleaning up after himself, afterward, to prevent any prying eyes from discovering his sessions from the aftermath.

	Tiamat couldn't be fooled, however; he couldn't deny the sights he saw, the words he heard, the scents he smelled in that brief moment. He knew there was something up with Kintaro, and from the brief glimpse he got, he wanted to be a part of that something. Ever since that day, he had plenty of fantasies of servicing the Shokan in a much different way than he was, currently; from the faint cries he overheard through Kintaro's chamber door, he got the impression that the Shokan was a staunch submissive, and eager to accept an abusive, driven master to ravage him. It would certainly be an interesting experience for him, taking the initiative, being the one giving the orders to the more powerful male instead of the reverse. The thought of that, of lording over the husky Shokan as he raped his willing ass, was too much of a turn-on for the draconian to ignore, and as Kintaro grew more at ease with living in Onaga's palace, he started planning how he could make his dreams a reality...

	His chance didn't come until the end of the month; in a rare instance of socialization, Kintaro unexpectedly called Tiamat into his bedchamber, one morning, with a task for him, though what that task was he refused to elaborate on until he arrived. The draconian could only wonder what the Shokan had planned for him as he knocked cautiously at his chamber door, slipping inside when he was beckoned to enter. Within, Kintaro was preparing for battle, literally; he was garbed in the scant but recognizable ceremonial armor of his family, and was busy examining one of his famous Saber Teeth gauntlet weapons. He turned as Tiamat entered, replacing the wicked weapon into his tiger-furred satchel as he addressed the draconian.

 	“Tiamat, I will be using your master's training pits for battle practice. Please see to it that your  strongest warrior is waiting for me, there, and that no one else disturbs us.”

	Tiamat blinked in surprise, not expecting such a request. “Sir, even among the guards, there is no one that could match your strength and power. If you wish for a sparring partner, I'm afraid there is not much we could do to accommodate you.”

	Kintaro glared at the reptilian, folding his arms in disbelief. “Don't give me that; I know well of the lengths Onaga goes through to keep all under his thrall – from his strongest guard to his lowliest slave – as capable fighters in their own right. Surely, there is someone among your staff that would be willing to battle with me.”

	Tiamat opened his mouth to protest again, but shut it just as quickly as an idea formed. Kintaro was correct; his master was meticulous when it came to ensuring his servants were very capable of serving him on the battlefield as much as they do in the castle. Besides that, the prospect of wrestling with the huge male, sweaty bodies locked in a feral embrace that bordered between the lust of kombat and sexual pleasure, was simply too enticing for him to ignore.

	He nodded, confidently, and bowed. “In that case, sir, I shall be your opponent.”

	Kintaro stared at the servant and quirked an eyebrow, bemused. “You? A skinny whelp?”

	Tiamat straightened, staring straight into Kintaro's eyes to let him know he was being serious. “I am my master's second; I have the experience of the most training among all of his staff. If you insist on his best fighter, you could do no better.”

	The Shokan didn't seem to be convinced, but nodded, nonetheless. Grabbing his satchel, he tossed it to the dragonman, chuckling slightly as Tiamat fumbled the bag in his arms in an attempt to catch it. “Very well, then. Lead the way.”

	The walk to Onaga's battle pits was fairly uneventful; a few of the other servants became distracted from their daily chores by the sight of a fully-armored Shokan following Onaga's second as the latter struggled to carry the heavy satchel down the castle's corridors. Tiamat could've sworn he heard them whisper and chuckle conspiratorially, as they passed, hiding a grin as he could only guess the naughty things going through their heads. There were many arenas in Onaga's battle pits, of various themes and décor, but the one Tiamat was leading Kintaro to was special, perfect for what both had in store for each other.

	The arena was small, much smaller than Kintaro had expected it to be. At barely 20 square meters, 15 of which was used for the actual fighting area, it was definitely cramped for the 8 and a half food Shokan. However, it also meant that no part of the area was out of their view, preventing any curious sneaks from hiding out to watch them. The walls of the arena were bare, mock statuesque pillars of dragons, Shokan, and Centaurs battling in the nude for their life breaking up the monotony and giving the room a gladiatorial feel. The arena itself was sunk into the ground, the volcanic rock surrounding the black sand that served as the floor for it carved into a series of short, simple, yet elegant benches for a small audience. Up above, the relatively low ceiling opened up to the open air, the massive skylight providing all the natural light needed to illuminate whichever warriors would engage in open kombat here. Kintaro grunted in gentle approval; Onaga thought of everything.

 	“This is one of our most sacred arenas,” Tiamat explained, setting the satchel down on the  obsidian benches as they descended into the ring. “It is here that we servants of Onaga were trained and proved ourselves worthy to service him. It is still used, on occasion, to help us strengthen our resolve and hone our skills to the best of our abilities. It is only appropriate that I use it to help you hone yours.”

	“Your master must have much confidence in you, to allow you such a luxury,” Kintaro noted, still admiring the subtle grandiosity of the room. “But are you certain this is the proper arena for me to train in?”

	The dragon stifled a chuckle as he turned towards the tigrine warrior. “You fear you are too big to maneuver around such a small space. Do not worry; Onaga himself would battle with us here as a final test of our loyalty and strength. You should not have any problems.”

	Kintaro nodded, unconvinced, and took his place on the sandy arena.  Tiamat followed suit, taking a similar position across from the Shokan. With a bow of respect, the two kombatants readied themselves, waiting for the other to make a move. The first strike came from Kintaro, who lunged forward in a flail of double right hooks. Tiamat, having anticipated this, managed to dodge out of reach of the punches, then dodged again to avoid a double backhand and a downward fist strike from the Shokan. However, he wasn't fast enough to avoid the shoulder rush that followed, the momentum of the attack lifting him off the ground and flinging him to the far side of the arena. The landing was rough, and he only had a few minutes to recover before Kintaro leapt into the air, his fists ready for a crushing ground pound to Tiamat's solar plexus. Fortunately, the dragonman was well-trained, and composed himself just fast enough to roll out of the way at the last millisecond, shielding himself from the dust cloud the impact kicked up. That was all the distraction Kintaro needed; scooping up a dual handful of sand, he waited until Tiamat dropped his guard, then threw it in his face.

	The effect was devastating; the sand erupted in a blinding cloud in Tiamat's eyes, the tiny granules of volcanic glass digging into the dragon's sensitive organs. He clawed at his eyes in a vain attempt to get the offending irritants out, stunning him for a brief moment and leaving him vulnerable to Kintaro's next attack. Rearing back with an inhaled roar, the Shokan sucked the poor dragon to him, grabbing him in a bearhug with his lower arms as he swung down with his upper ones in a vicious haymaker. The result was a scaly green rock skipping across the entire length of the arena and slamming hard against the banisters on the far side. Picking himself up, Kintaro smirked to himself as he stalked towards his prey, victory assured in his mind as Tiamat still squirmed on his back on the arena floor from the hit he took. However, just as the Shokan got into range to land the final blow, Tiamat suddenly braced himself and swung his legs out in a wide arc, catching Kintaro's legs in a scissors hold and dropping him to his knees. Before he could blink, the reptilian figure slithered behind him, wrapping one leg around his own to force them apart and twisting his own arms to pin two of Kintaro's in a lock. To Kintaro's surprise, the hold was perfect; despite his physical superiority, Tiamat had him totally at his mercy, neutralizing every attempt by him to shake free of the reptile's grip with a minimal pressure. It was a feeling Kintaro was familiar with in the bedroom but never on the battlefield: a feeling of helplessness, of submissiveness, of releasing control of his fate to his partner. Too late, he realized it was a feeling Tiamat wanted him to feel.

 	A prodding at the small of his back alerted Kintaro to the lizard's ulterior motive, the waistband of his leather thong parting to allow a fleshy, flexible appendage access to his shapely ass. He choked back a moan as the scaly intruder – now identified in his mind as Tiamat's tail – wormed its way between his muscular cheeks to tease at his tight anal ring. He growled in his throat, more in self-damnation than in any malice against the draconian; it was his fault for allowing Tiamat a glimpse into  his sex life. He should've kept a better hold of his desires, especially around an entire castle of nosy servants, but he hadn't gotten off properly in 5 months – he had to release himself, right then and there, or he would've exploded. He should've figured, when Tiamat entered his room that day, that something like this would happen.

 	Tiamat hissed as the tip if his tail suddenly plunged into Kintaro's back passage, startling the Shokan into a submissive whimper. “So, you really are a nasty cockslut, aren't you?” The lizard tightened his grip on Kintaro's arms, the Shokan feeling another probing at his back – this one harder and much smaller than Tiamat's tail – as the invader in his ass thrust itself deeper into him.

	“You planned this, all along,” Kintaro snarled, fighting every instinct he had, in this situation, to refer to the impudent whelp as 'master'.

	Tiamat wasn't fooled, though; he could tell the neediness in Kintaro's voice, and despite his position, the Shokan didn't do a thing to fight back. It was just as he figured: Kintaro was his fuck toy, the slightest show of dominance over him transforming the mighty Scourge of Outworld into a pathetic, whimpering, insatiably submissive and masochistic cock slave. He was putty in the dragon's hands, and Tiamat was going to take full advantage of that fact. Plunging his tail deeper into his captive's unwilling hole, he started grinding against the small of Kintaro's back, the movement causing the Shokan to whimper and whine as he slowly lost control of his faculties, his desperate struggle to keep his wanton lusts in check slipping away to the growing pleasure in his asshole. It was the manner that the tail thrust at him that did it; it was hard and rough, almost brutal in its ferocity, but it was also slow and deliberate, almost teasingly, as if working him up and breaking him down for a bigger show of dominance over him.

 	By this time, Kintaro's cock was at full-mast, pressing painfully against his tight leather garments, and the Shokan was almost gone with lust. Instinctively, he pawed at his girdle with a free hand, unconsciously trying to pull the offending cloth from his loins and access his throbbing pole. Seeing this, Tiamat tightened his grip on the Shokan harder, giving his tail a vicious twist in the Shokan's brutalized anus, hissing a warning into his ear. “Uh-uh, my little slutty Shokan, you are my servant, now, and you will do what I command. And what I command of you, my Shokan fuck toy, is to take my tail deep in your worthless rump and scream for me how much you want it.”

	A sudden thrust of the tail for emphasis, and Kintaro gave in, snarling in unbridled horniness as he submitted utterly to his new master. “Yes, master, abuse this ungrateful slave's ass!” he blurted, surprising both himself and Tiamat,