The Human In The King

Turned out, “happy” was a bit of an understatement. The pack of anthro caribou that returned to the small camp acted like I was the second coming of Jesus. I mean, with bowing, and praising the gods, and nearly-religious jumping around, I was guessing Tomasian’s reaction was just due to his being utterly shitfaced. It got so out of hand I almost didn’t notice the squirming sack they were carrying with them.

“Lord Dainn!” One caribou-guy enthused, jumping around while wearing nothing but a loincloth that just barely covered the largest uncircumcised dick I’d ever seen. Even as I was watching it happen, I knew this would be an image that probably wasn’t going to leave me anytime soon. To my horror, he quickly bounded towards me, legs picking up as high as they would go until the sweet, sweet relief of seeing him come to a stop and bow. “Lord Dainn, your return is our salvation!”

Dear God, it’s like watching two snails fighting over a tapeworm. I grinned at him. “Hey, just glad to be so welcome…uh…”

“Katrakian, oh lord,” he enthused, sitting up to give me one more quick show before bowing again.

“That’s…wonderful, Sir Katrakian,” I said. “Why don’t you stay like that, okay? Just…bowed over, just like that?”

“Oh, of course, Lord!” He enthused. “Whatever pleases you!”

“Lord Dainn,” another caribou gasped, this one thankfully dressed in ornate armor: gold-plated metal studded with flowery designs running all across the breastplate and down the arms, yet with an odd little hinge over the codpiece. Seriously, what was with these guys and having easy access to their dicks? Did they all have bladder control problems? “It’s such an honor to see you in the flesh! When we set out on our desperate raid to stock up on supplies and bitches, we never in a million years would have imagined seeing you upon our return!”

“Truly this is a sign that the dark times are over, and male dominance will return once more!” A third caribou enthused, this one thankfully wearing cotton pants, though that did little to hide the massive bulge underneath.

I managed to tear my eyes away from the swinging wrecking balls practically being presented to my face by sheer force of will, and blinked twice as the words of my new followers processed. Hold the damn phone for a second, ‘male dominance’? ‘Stock up on supplies and bitches’? Shit, it was about time for me to poke an eye into that squirming little sack, wasn’t it?

Okay, no need to panic just yet, this could have all just been a big misunderstanding. “Speaking of,” I said, pointing to the sack. “What’s that you have there?”

The caribou stared at me blankly (except for Katrakian, who thankfully kept his head bowed low and his dick covered up). Then, one of them looked to the squirming sack and practically face-palmed with an expression like: “ain’t I just the most absent-minded stinker?”

“Apologies, Lord,” he said, immediately bowing as he held the sack out to me. “The little slut must have slipped our minds!”

“We weren’t withholding her, of course,” said Sir Breastplate. “If you wished for first fuck, that is, of course, your right as King!”

“Just a refresher, my lord!” Added Sir Cottonpants. “Something to ease your mind, then together we can plot how best to take this land for our own once more!”

Okay, literally everything they just said was setting off alarm bells in my mind. Still, I kept telling myself that this had to be a misunderstanding, maybe “fuck” and “bitches” meant something different here! Had to be! Absolutely had to be! Didn’t matter that literally every other word seemed to translate just fine and no other attempt at finding a difference in semantics had led to some weird cross-cultural difference, this all had to be the result of a big, whacky misunderstanding the likes of which hadn’t been seen since the golden age of 90s sitcoms.

Funny how easy it is to lie to yourself when the truth is too hard to swallow.

Clinging desperately to this hope, I scooped up the proffered sack and held it out in front of me like you would a garbage bag that was leaking juices from God-knows-what. The sack gave another lurch, and before I could react, one of the caribou leapt forward and jammed a fist up into it.

“Shut up, slut! Be still and be grateful for the privilege about to be granted ya!” He screamed, then immediately darted back. “Apologies, Lord, this one hasn’t been shown the true light of male dominance, and so it will likely not react to you appropriately.”

“Right…” I said, still with my big, fake smile plastered on. Shit, if I could keep smiling here, maybe I picked the wrong profession back home. Probably should’ve been a politician. Still grinning, I tossed the sack over my shoulder and strode to the nearest tent. “Welp, no time like the present!”

“Of course, m’lord!” Said Sir Cottonpants.

“Whatever you desire, Lord!” Added Sir Breastplate.

“Show the little slut the truth of male dominance, Lord!” Added Katrakian, who I now dubbed Sir Meatshaft.

I grinned and waved until I made it to the tent, then I made sure to close the hide flap behind me before sinking to my knees. “Oooohhhhhh fuck,” I muttered, a hand pressing to my forehead. “Fuck, fuck, fuck a hairy duck.”

Okay, okayokayokayokay…okay. This looked bad. But…butbutbut…BUT! Looks could be deceiving! That was the thought that kept my hopes up as I undid the ratty knot holding the sack shut and peered inside to drink in the most adorable sight I had ever seen in my life.

Before me sat a tiny, gray-coated creature with a silver mane and massive, deep-gray eyes. I mean, these eyes made big blue’s eyes look normal by comparison. They shimmered as they looked up at me, the muzzle quivering beneath them as a small whimper escaped the creature’s mouth, her tiny body curling up beneath my hands.

All thought processes shut down upon seeing the creature. If a Pokémon and a golden retriever puppy made love, their baby would have been jealous of this tiny anthro horsey. When she stood on two quivering hooves, she barely came up to my knee, and my heart nearly burst with d’awww.

Okay, focus. You’re alone now, she can provide you with answers you desperately need, that should be your first priority. The rational part of me insisted as a squee rose in my throat and my massive arms wrapped around her.

“OMG baby pony!” I gasped while my brain cried out in frustration. “I am gonna kiss you and love you and squeeze you and hug you and call you George…”

She shivered in my grasp, finally snapping me out of my intense case of desu-kawaii for me to notice that A) she was now crying into my chest fur, B) this crying was muffled by something gagging her, and most importantly C) she was naked but for the weird, gray fur God gave her.

“Oh, shit,” I grumbled, setting the little creature down and finally looking her over. Everything that I saw knocked the rose-tint right out of my eyes. That adorable, deep-gray gaze was marred by a blackeye, like I said, but also the luxurious silver coat was mussed up in all the wrong places: around her nonexistent breasts, and above her tiny vulva, which I only managed a peek at before squeezing my eyes shut. Then there was the dirty, tattered rope bound tightly around her wrists and hooves, cutting into her flesh so hard I could see bruising even through that silver-gray coat. A dirty, yellow-stained cloth was shoved into her mouth. I didn’t even want to think about where that yellow had come from.

“Jeez-us Christ,” I grumbled, setting her down gently. Slowly, I undid the rough knot holding the cloth gag in place and eased it out of her mouth. A few audible sobs immediately escaped her mouth as tears ran down her fuzzy cheeks, and the sound damn near broke my heart. Imagine a little girl finding the broken remains of her puppy in the middle of the road and crying over them while a little old man stops by and tells you how this reminds him of his wife, who died of cancer not two weeks ago, all while In the Arms of an Angel plays in the background. It was actually hard to keep a stoic, strong face for her.

“Okay, it’s okay,” I whispered, hugging her close. “Not gonna hurtcha, nobody’s gonna hurtcha. Just go ahead and cry it all out.”

She buried her muzzle in my chest and let out a gut-wrenching sob. My eyes slid shut, even as I reached down and felt for the knot holding her wrists together, which I gently pulled apart. When her hands were free, she immediately wrapped them around my torso, crying into my chest as I ran my claws through her hair, hoping this felt comforting and not like I was just grooming her before eating her.

“Please don’t do it to me too,” she whimpered finally, in a tiny voice like a small angel hugging my waist.

My claws paused in her hair. “Do what, sweetie?”

“What they did to mommy.”

I paused, then slowly sank to one knee until I was at eye level. It took all my strength to keep a straight, non-teary face while I looked her in those wide, terrified eyes, but I managed. “What’s your name?” I asked in the most calming tone I could muster.

“S-Silver Glow.”

I blinked. Seriously? Did pony names match their looks perfectly or something? How in the hell? I managed a quick, warm smile, which faltered as she pulled away and started rubbing at the bruises on her wrists. “Okay, Silver Glow, I need you to tell me what they did to mommy.”

She nodded, her massive eyes tearing up even more. Aww fuck, this was gonna get bad, wasn’t it? “They made her and me get all nakes, a-and then they said I had to watch and his wee-wee was all big, and they took it where mommy pees and she kept telling ‘em to stop an’ I kept telling ‘em to stop and he kept touching me places…”

“Okay…” I held up a hand, my muzzle snarling in disgust. “Okay, I get the picture, alright.”

Yeah, it wasn’t just bad, it was fucking awful. It was Hitler palling it up with Stalin over a pile of dead babies awful. It was Justin Bieber touring with Rebecca Black with posters advertising it in comic sans awful. My fellow caribou-dudes were rapists. Well, that shit wasn’t gonna stand, dream or not.

“Silver Glow, do you know what they did with your mommy?”

She nodded carefully. “They tied her up in the woods an’ then put me in the bag. They s-said she wasn’t gonna last long…”

Alright, standard hero thing here. Good thing this was my dream, or I might be somewhat intimidated by the task in front of me. As it was, I figured the best thing would be to slip into my best LARPer impersonation. “Fear not, young lass! For I, Sir Francowski of the Sixth Street Halfricans, shall fetch thy mother, win her heart, and maybe diddle the blue thing while I’m at it! Whatever! She was pretty hot!”

Silver Glow blinked at me, but nodded, tears still standing in my eyes. “O-okay…”

“So…y’know, just…stay in here, okay? Don’t let nobody in, just hang here and wait,” I nodded to her and strode out, not looking back for fear that her big ol’ eyes would make me grab her up into another hug. Well, my epic voice of super narration didn’t last long. Probably why I never went LARPing. Well, that and a few other reasons, chief among them being that I had a job. And a life.

I stormed out of the tent, flashing a quick smile to Silver Glow, which she returned, thankfully. Okay, tiny pony person set for now. Let’s see about another, slightly larger pony person.

“My Lord?” Katrakian this time, unfortunately sitting up again, dick flopping out once more. “You’ve finished with the little slut already?”

I tore my eyes away from the sandworm of Arrakis being assaulted by a couple Borgan spheres (kudos if you got both those references) long enough to meet his gaze. “Well, no, can’t say I have. See, she enlightened me to a few things.”

At that, Katrakian’s gaze darted away. He turned a little to the side, thankfully covering up Tweedledee and Tweedledum and most of their pet anaconda. “Why, whatever do you mean, Lord?”

“Dude, seriously, if you’re gonna lie, get good at it,” I grumbled, arms crossing. “Don’t look like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar when you’re trying to lie.”

Amazingly, that’s what he looked like just then. He even looked at his feet and gave a little kick at the dust. If he’d been wearing a propeller hat and muttering “Awww, shucks,” it wouldn’t have looked too out of place. Except, you know, for the Gyrados and his two Master balls hanging down under his legs, and for the fact that we were talking about a possible rape-murder spree.

“Jesus Christ…where’s the mother?” I grumbled. “I mean, really, did you not think I’d wonder about that!?”

Katrakian hung his head low, the wrecking balls with their own support cable now dangling limply. He said nothing, even as he sank to his knees, before mumbling a quiet: “I’m sorry, Lord.”

“We’re a bit past ‘sorry,’ dontcha fuckin’ think?” I growled, privately grateful that the two watermelons and their pet banana were now covered up again.

“No, Lord, please!” He gasped. “We were only trying to keep her from Tomasian, not you! Tomasian is so rough with them, and when he gets drunk he always makes himself go first, and he doesn’t leave any for us! We always have to make do with cold meat when he goes first, Lord, I swear! We were going to tell you about her too!”

I blinked at the rant. Holy shit, the line of thinking that would lead to someone treating another person like this was beyond normal subway-groper and shot right on through to fucking Ted Bundy levels. Were they…were all my fucking caribou guys like this!? If so, then I just became Lord of a nation of rapists. Goodie, best title since Leader of Germany, circa April 1945. On the upside, I could use Katrakian’s guilt pretty easily.

“Okay, calm down, just let me know where she is.” I growled.

Still moping, his head bowed, Katrakian levelled a finger at a patch of woods just over a small hill. I didn’t even pause, I took off at a dead run, once again putting those finely-tuned legs to use while praying to God, Allah, Jesus, Buddha, and L. Ron Hubbard that I wasn’t about to find what I thought I was gonna find.

I did.

Just inside the tree line, maybe a few dozen yards from the clearing, I found another pony-woman, naked as her daughter. I…it’s hard to…her breasts were all fucked up. Looked like someone had clawed at them, and then the sheer amount of wetness around her crotch, she’d been raped so many times. Her eyes were rolled back, all red and bleary and looking so hopeless, even in death. I…fuck…her hands were tied behind this tree so rough I could see blood all along the bark, but they’d also thrown this rope around her neck for good measure…I think she…I think she used it to…

She wasn’t breathing, and I think it was because she knew what was about to happen and didn’t want to see it. The rope around her neck was strung up on a branch over her head, it would’ve already been tight, why they did that I’ll never know and I’m glad for that, but it meant all she had to do was…you know…give up. Let it tighten.

I took two steps towards the body and sank to my knees. Back home, this would be where I’d call the cops, and they’d come hauling ass over the hills to setup crime scene tape and take rape kits and do the rest of the shit I’d seen them do on CSI to make sure that whoever did this, he’d be caught, he’d be dragged off in chains, and he’d be put someplace where he’d never get to do it again, and I could go home and sink into my big comfy couch and try to forget what I’d just seen. Except…that wasn’t gonna happen here. I looked into those massive, wide, empty eyes until I couldn’t anymore, then I reached over and closed them.

I wanted to puke really badly, but I couldn’t. Not yet.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” I mumbled, tears stinging my eyes. I wiped furiously at them, grateful for the solitude. “I’m so, so sorry.”

No more fooling myself. No more playing tricks on my own mind. This shit was pure evil. Only question left: what the hell was I gonna do about it?

I stood, my feet shaking, my fists clenching, but a big grin spreading across my face. “Probably something retarded,” I answered my own question, turning and striding back into the clearing. Just had to remember this was all in my head. Why my head would cook up a fucked-up scenario like this was a question for the shrink I’d almost certainly be hiring when I woke up. Right now, I had some dream-shit to mess up. At least I was secure in the knowledge that Silver Glow was safe…

…

And Big Blue isn’t. Aw, shit…welp, at least I knew that “getting her ready for ya” didn’t involve some fava beans and a nice chianti on the side.

I started running again, storming towards the campsite. My three soldiers, the three guys who just raped a woman to the point where she figured taking her own life was a better choice than to keep breathing, were now all gathered around the remnants of the campfire. Wait, no wait, I didn’t just have three guys here…where’d Tomasian been this entire time?

Fuck. A. Duck.

“Your highness?” Katrakian again, and you know what? Right then, I really felt like hitting something as hard as I could, right in the midst of this run too.

I felt like saying something smart-alecky and stupid and awesome all at the same time. Instead, I just screamed at the top of my lungs, my hands clenching into fists. I leapt just before hitting the trio and came down in a devastating haymaker that nailed Katrakian across the jaw. His head twisted with the sheer force of the hit, a wad of bloody spittle flew out of his mouth. As he flopped down, the rattlesnake with its two eggs went limp, practically pulling back up into his stomach.

I usually didn’t like to think of myself as a vengeful person, but shit’s alive, that felt good. Also, always wanted to pull off a flying haymaker. Never thought I could, but here we were. Even if it hurt like hell.

“Ahhh,” I hissed, shaking my hand. “That hurt a lot more than a normal punch does, shit. Jason Statham lied to me.”

“Sir!” I turned to see the other two nameless fuckheads sinking to their knees, hands raised. “Sir, our most sincere apologies!” Gasped Tweedledumbshit.

“We would have let you have the mother too! Honest! We just assumed you’d want the younger, tighter pussy!” Added Tweedledickless.

Okay, every time these guys opened their mouths just made me want to hurt something, but I had bigger priorities. “Can it,” I growled, my fists clenching so hard I could feel blood oozing out around my claws. “The fuck is Tomasian?”

Still with heads bowed, Sir Cottonpants leveled a shaking finger at one of the oversized tents.

I sprinted for the tent, sliding in like a star hitter making the winning homerun. I sprang to my feet, my strange, caribou eyes already adjusting to the dark, and I nearly lost my lunch. There was Big Blue alright, sans cotton stretchy clothing, staked down all spread eagle, her wrists and fetlocks bruised from pulling at the ropes holding her. Tears silently drowned her face even as she glared hatefully up at a grinning Tomasian mounting her, forcing himself in deeper and deeper, claws sinking into her flesh. I could see streaks of blood and scratchmarks all over her. I could see a shiner growing over her eye. I could see the sick, gray gunk marinating his balls just beneath her slit. I could see Tomasian, looking over his shoulder with his eyes widening in surprise, his balls swinging as he forced himself into her with a loud squelch. I could see where he left a bigass club standing upright by the door.

I didn’t even think, I just moved. Some part of me realized I was going to break my already-stressed hand if I just went for another punch, though. The club was in my hands before I could tell what I was doing, and before Tomasian could even ask, I brought it in a high arc down against his forehead, as hard as I could. There was a sickening squelch, a loud crack, and the caribou tumbled backwards, his now-deflating cock poking up like a little flagpole from the rest of his body, his neck bending at a funny angle.

I fell to my knees, gasping for air, and then I went to all fours and puked. No other way around it. I’d heard about rape, and I’d been just as angry as the next guy whenever some high-profile case ended with a guilty verdict and a sentence consisting of a few months’ probation and a stern wrist-slapping, but to hear about it and see it are two very different things. What I saw was so wrong and sickening and disgusting that I just had no choice. It was either puke, or start that laughing fit I’d had when I first woke up all over again.

When I’d finished wiping chunks of apple and stomach acid from around my mouth, I rose to my knees again, still gasping. Big Blue looked at me through her tears, her naked breasts rising and falling, her raggedy, rainbow mane now filled with dust and dirt from beneath her. “I’m sorry,” I muttered, and I reached over and pulled at the knot in the ratty rope around one of her wrists. When I finished with one, I pulled at the other, and when that was free, I worked on her hooves. When one of those was free, it came up in a kick to my schnozz that sent me sprawling.

Yeah, probably should’ve seen that coming. I wound up sprawled on my ass as she leapt up, yanked her remaining hoof free, then backed away, fists raised, teeth clenched. I rubbed my nose where I’d been hit, then sighed and laid back.

“Sorry,” I whispered again.

A long pause, then she asked something most curious: “Who are you?”

Before I could answer, something slammed against the back of my head. I fell on my stomach, wondering what could’ve hit me, then looked up and found a familiar pair of bowling balls with a single pin. “Oh, fuck no,” I whispered.

Katrakian appeared in my field of view, with a massive club in his hands. “Oh, thank God,” I added, as he levelled the club on me.

“D-don’t move sir!” He gasped, his mouth twisted in a combination of rage and fear. “O-obviously the little sluts and traitors have managed to drive you from the Truth, but don’t worry! We’ll help you find it again!”

I looked up at him, darkness creeping in along the edges of my vision. Well shit, I tried. Nobody can say I didn’t. “You’re a bunch of rapist shits,” I grumbled as the two remaining soldiers crowded in behind him.

“W-we’ll save you, sir!” He whispered. “Whatever demon has taken you, we’ll save you and you’ll lead us to…”

He didn’t even get to finish his sentence before a familiar blue fist crashed into his throat, choking off his words. I clung to consciousness and watched in awe as Big Blue ripped the club out of Katrakian’s claws and whipped around in a perfectly-executed tornado kick, bouncing off of Sir Cottonpants’s face before ducking, doing a quick spin to trip up Sir Breastplate, then whipping the club around faster than I even believed someone could move right down on Katrakian’s head. For the next few minutes, she alternated between all three, the club soon bringing up blood and bits of gray matter, some of which flecked onto my robes, most of which splattered the inside of the tent.

When it was all said and done, Big Blue turned to me, panting heavily, her fine breasts heaving, blood running down the sides of her face. I could only grin.

“That was fucking awesome,” I said before the darkness took me.