Crusade Gone Awry

This story is a work of fiction. Any connection to real events or people, past or present, is coincidental. All characters of this story are age 18 or older. All monsters depicted are fictional and based on mythology or folklore. There is no depiction of real animals in this story.

This chapter contains several erotic scenes!

First scene: Non-human, plant woman, gangbang, M/M/M/F, oral sex, cum eating, body alteration, transformation, magic, drugged sex, mind control, creampie

Second scene: Femdom, oral, unusual tongue, orgasm denial, orgasm control, magic sex toys, cowgirl, doggy, creampie

Third scene: Male centaur/female human, horse genitals, big dick, BDSM, whipping, butt plug, role-play, horse play (literally), oral, and lots of semen.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!

ONE OR TWO MORE CHAPTERS TO GO. I SWEAR.

***

A few days after the new crusader army left Tarbat, Renard was called into the king's tent. Every time this happened the foxman would begin sweating. At any moment they could learn of his treachery and chop him to pieces. It wasn't like there was anyone around to save him. All he could do was act confident and hope they didn't catch on. If the Demon Queen had faith in his abilities, then he could do this right? RIGHT!?

Renard entered the tent with his usual swagger. He had to keep focus to stop his tail from nervously shaking, however. King Hensley was surrounded by his retainers, many of them muttering to him. When the royal spotted their guide, he dismissed them to the sides. Renard approached and bowed graciously.

"You called, your highness?" he asked.

"Tarbat has slammed the gates shut," the king explained. "Just as you predicted."

Renard sighed and shrugged. "They don't want to fight you, but they fear the Demon King. Shutting the gates is all they can do."

"Well, I expect my subjects, new or otherwise, to submit," King Hensley explained, his empty smile hiding whatever he held underneath. "How many soldiers would it take conquer the city?"

The foxman crossed his arms and gazed up at the ceiling, as if seriously thinking. "The walls are very old, and the place hasn't seen any combat in many centuries. There aren't any fighters...I would say 5,000 should do it."

"You give up this information freely?" King Hensley's smile had faded. Renard smiled and shrugged again.

"If you lose, you'll just kill me. Why would I lie?"

The king's smile returned. "Fair enough! I'll have my marshal go and deal with this insurrection. The rest of the army will continue onward. Now, there's the other matter of these...white rabbits."

"The lunar lagomorphs? I warned you about those."

"You did, but they are proving elusive. They steal some of our rations every night. Not enough to really damage our supplies, but enough that it is annoying. I need this corrected."

Renard thought for a moment. A few stings from insects are annoying. After a hundred, the damage would become serious. Right now, the crusader army was being stung a little, but every sting added up. Somehow the lunar lagomorphs had to keep stealing food...and he had to live!

"The only way to really stop them is by shooting them with arrows," Renard explained. This wasn't actually true, as the lagomorph were so fast that bows were useless. The crusaders didn't know that, however. "Desert peoples are used to firing our arrows faster. All I can advise is for your men shoot faster."

"Perhaps you could give them some tips?"

"Beg your pardon your majesty, but my people have poor eyesight. It was the other races that were the archers." This was a blatant lie. Foxmen had excellent eyesight and were skillful archers. Again, the crusaders didn't know that.

"Convenient," the king said, a smile not on his face. Renard was getting the sneaking suspicion that when the king didn't have that fake smile on his face, it was a terrible thing. The foxman tried to not to sweat more than he already was.

"I mean, you could also double your guard," Renard suggested.

"Well, we can do that," the king said. The lagomorphs were far too fast and more guards would help nothing. "If you would be so kind as to explain to my marshal what Tarbat's defenses are."

"I would be glad to," Renard replied, taking another bow and marching out. Archbishop Riker then leaned over to the king.

"I don't trust that monster," he whispered.

"Nor I," the king replied, leaning back on his throne. "However, I do believe he values his own life. If he betrays us, we'll cut him down where he stands. Tell my marshal I want him to send daily reports to me when he arrives at Tarbat. If there's a gap of even a day, we will turn back around...and then we'll deal with this devious fox."

*

As the majority of the crusader army marched deeper into the desert, they were unknowingly being observed. Hidden by illusion magic was a group of cockatrices...and one very pissy human. Mirat covered her eyes from the sun as she observed the column of invaders from behind a boulder.

"There are so many of them!" she cried.

"Of course!" Oren complained, sitting entirely behind the rock. "They wouldn't dare send that many troops for us!"

"Uh-huh, sure thing honey!" his cockatrice wife said, patting him on the shoulder with her foot. He wasn't going to stop being nervous, so he wasn't going to shut up. She had learned to just placate him. At least her father wasn't around. "Oh! Lagomorph incoming!" A fury of pattering steps and a spewing of sand erupted behind the rock. A white rabbit man collapsed onto the sand, gasping for breath. There was a single apple in his hands.

"They're not even chasing them anymore!" one of the other cockatrices said.

"Why bother?" Oren complained. "It's just an apple."

"An apple adds up dear!" Mirat chided. The human scoffed. The lagomorph next to him sat up, clutching his chest, sweating, and gasping. Oren stared at him for a moment before glancing around to the other cockatrices who were all staring at the army. He reached for his canteen and unscrewed it. He handed it to the lagomorph. The small monster handed Oren the apple and grabbed the canteen. Knowing from previous trips what was inside, the rabbit-man quickly drank. Oren began peeling the apple with a knife. When the lagomorph stopped drinking, the human would hand him a slice. The small monster would then alternate between the juicy fruit and the canteen, recovering all the while.

Mirat turned her eye towards the scene, but only smiled and ignored it. Oren seemed to have a soft spot for the little rabbit-men. Possibly because they too were being forced into a dangerous situation against their will. The last thing he would want, however, was for someone to point it out. He would much rather have everyone believe he was just a whiny pissbaby. He was so weird...but she would certainly reward him when they were alone again! Maybe she would use the claws of her foot this time...

Someone else came bounding over to their rock. This one was hidden by illusion magic, however. Mirat could easily see by the white fathers that it was Sharae, looking kind of desperate. The older cockatrice turned towards her, but the feathered one didn't seem to notice her. Instead, Sharae pushed herself to the top of the rock and stared intently at the line of soldiers. Mirat glanced between her friend and the army for a few moments...then she saw Sharae's head start to follow someone. Mirat grinned.

There was a soldier that was dressed differently than the others. He was taller than most, had glittering white armor, and there was a cape fluttering behind him. He kept the men in line, occasionally chiding them. The man wasn't wearing a helmet, and his blonde hair and chiseled features made him quite handsome. Sharae's dark eyes followed him like...well, like a bird of prey tracking a hunt. Mirat sidled up to her friend.

"Found something nice?" the older cockatrice asked in a low voice. As if first noticing her, Sharae jumped and turned her head. Upon realizing she had been caught, the feathery monster blushed and shrank down on the rock.

"Wha...no! I just...he's just interesting!" she stammered.

"Yeah, I bet!" Mirat replied, grinning. "You like those big heroic types huh? Not really my style. I like a man who's out of touch with his feelings until he's crying and begging under my foot."

"Oh my god, Mirat! We're in public!" Oren cried from behind the rock.

"Yes, we all know that dear!" Mirat said patronizingly. The cockatrice then paused, thinking. "Honey, who are the ones that wear white glittering armor and capes?"

"Sounds like the royal guard," Oren said without looking. "Bunch of self-righteous jackasses."

"Heroic types," his wife seemingly corrected. "Could you give me the special bottle?"

"What? Are fucking you serious?" her husband complained. With amazing foot dexterity, she reached down and sank her toe claws into the skin of his shoulder.

"Now!"

Oren grumbled but began fumbling with a pack. Sharae had subconsciously began following the man again. It was getting near the time she would have to run to another rock. Just in time, Oren held up a bottle from below them. Mirat seized it and took something off the neck. She held both out to Sharae who stared at them. The smaller cockatrice could tell from the smell that it was a bottle of garlic. In Mirat's other hand was a ring, the kind she had used on Oren. The feathered cockatrice blushed even harder than before.

"Wha...wha...wha...what are you...!?" she stammered terribly. Mirat winked at her.

"You'll know when to use them." She shoved the items into Sharae's hands, turned her around, and pushed her off the rock with a smack on her butt, causing the small one to let out a little shriek. "Now off you go, young fertile lady!" Despite being embarrassed, Sharae began running to the next rock...carrying the bottle and ring. "Feels so nice empowering a new generation of young love!"

"You people are twisted," Oren growled.

"Uh-huh, sure thing honey!" Mirat replied, patting him on the shoulder with her foot again.

*

Marshal Gantz, standing in front of his tent, read the orders he had been given. He was supposed to lead the crusade, but now his king had ordered him to double back and retake Tarbat. The marshal growled and wadded up the paper.

"I will obey my king's orders," the marshal said to the messenger. The messenger bowed, turned, and dashed away. Gantz crossed his arms and grimaced.

This whole enterprise was foolhardy. Sailing over half of their forces across the ocean to face an enemy that had never done the same to them? Insanity. The expense of this alone was mind-boggling, even if the demon's palace had a mountain of gold. Even worse were the leaders of this campaign.

Archbishop Riker actually wasn't that much of a problem. He wanted power and prestige. Honestly, all people who become archbishop probably were like that. The fact that he was very ruthless also wasn't unheard of. He was a manageable problem...in normal circumstances. The thing that made this a shit sandwich was the king. Gantz had known the king since he was a child. Even back then, it was obvious Hensley was going to be a problem. He was inflexible, spoiled, and short tempered. He was incapable of seeing other people's perspectives and had no desire to, even if he were capable. He hid himself behind hollow smiles and a seeming calm attitude. It was when he failed or was defied that his real self came out, raging, yelling, and throwing a fit. He often demanded people's heads and pushed blame on everyone else. It was never his fault. He could never be wrong.

The arrogance of Riker and the spoiled Hensley. They became a toxic stew that together was dragging the kingdom to disaster. Riker thought he could control Hensley. Hensley thought Riker was another bootlicker. Nothing could stop them. Riker wanted to be archbishop. Hensley wanted a full treasury. The financial situation of the kingdom wasn't stellar, but it was manageable. They had to spend a lot to maintain their army. The Kazgar's to the north had to be kept out. The magic-based nations to the west and east also had to be matched to prevent invasion. All it took was careful management to keep things running. Careful management was not in Hensley's nature at all. The young king pissed money away on liquor, parties, and monuments to himself. Even if they got this supposed mountain of gold, it would be gone in a few years. This whole thing was a disaster, and if Marshal Gantz wasn't a loyal soldier he wouldn't stand for it.

The marshal sighed and finally stopped stewing. It wouldn't do any good to brood about it now. The Kazgars back home were uniting under a single khan. There was no time to waste. This had to be finished quickly with a victory so he could go back and deal with that. The marshal turned back into his tent. He had plans to make and men to prepare.

Before the man could enter, however, a random horse began sauntering through the camp. Gantz groaned and rolled his eyes. For some reason the stablemaster was having problems keeping the animals locked up.

"Who let this animal walk free?" the marshal demanded, pointing to a horse that was definitely not a centaur in disguise.

"My mistake!" a soldier who was definitely not Tay Rainground in disguise shouted, running forward. "They've been restless ever since we've arrived sir! The stablemaster says it's the scent of monsters!"

"Well, whatever the reason, I expect the horses to be safe, secure, and ready for battle! Get to it!"

"Yes sir! Sorry sir!" the soldier cried, making a deep bow and grabbing the horse by the reins. The marshal sneered and walked into his tent. This whole thing was truly a disaster.

The soldier walked the horse back to where they were being kept. He walked into the middle of the herd to ensure they were well hidden by all the animals. After a brief glance around, he nodded towards the horse. The illusion magic around the two of them evaporated. In an instant, both Tay and Ermina appeared. The centaur spat out the bit in her mouth.

"They seem to be up to something," the centaur said.

"That's not the only thing up..." Tay muttered, eyeing the wet bit now in her hand. Ermina blushed and gave him a shove with her horse butt.

"Pay attention!" she chided. "This is serious! What do you think they're up to?"

"They know that Tarbat has slammed the gates shut," Tay explained. "They're probably preparing an attack force to take it back."

"Should we report that?" Ermina asked.

"I'm only here to protect you. I can't give advice to a force that's technically my enemy."

Ermina let out a grumble and cut her eyes away. Tay had insisted on coming with her in case she got caught. So far, he was doing a good job at it too, although none of the other centaurs had been caught either. Ermina was getting a sneaking suspicion that he just wanted to see her wearing a bridle and saddle.

"A-hem!" a voice cried behind them. Both of them spun around and froze. Someone was standing behind them in the herd. For a few seconds, Tay felt his stomach tie in knots and his heart skip beats. Then he gasped and took a step backwards.

"Oh...no!" he said with a different kind of terror in his voice. "What are YOU doing here?"

Ermina glanced at him and the newcomer. It was a woman who was grinning smugly with her hands on her hips. After the centaur looked back and forth several times, her brain clicked. Now she knew why Tay sounded terrified in a different way.

"Wait a minute!" Ermina began. "That's the woman in the horse gear! The one who gave you that fetish back at those stables!"

Tay shrunk a little and clearly began to sweat. Ermina wouldn't even know who this woman was if he hadn't shared his dreams with her. The two of them were having a grand time reliving his memories when suddenly Tay's mind decided to insert his memories of a woman who liked to come around to wear horse equipment while having sex with them. Of all the people in the world to come with the army to help manage the horses...!

"Care to introduce us Tay?" the woman asked.

Tay laughed uncomfortably as Ermina glared daggers at him.

"Uh...Varra, this is my...partner Ermina," Tay stammered. "Ermina this is...Varra. You know about her..."

"Yes, I do," Ermina said flatly.

"I see you've found the centaurs," Varra replied, walking in a circle around them. "Any particular reason you're sneaking around with one?"

"Uhhh...hmmm...um...it's a fetish thing?" Tay said with a terrible smile.

"Tay, shut-up," Ermina said flatly. She stepped in front of him. "You haven't called for the guards, so clearly you want something. What is it?"

Varra put her finger to her chin and gazed up at the sky, as if trying to act cute.

"Hmm...what do I want?" she said as if absent-mindedly. Ermina's eyes twitched. Not only had this woman had sex with Tay before, but she was also toying with them. The centaur had an increasing sensation of dread that this woman was going to ask for Tay's attention.

"Well..." Varra finally began, stopping her circling. "considering I came here to find centaurs..."

"Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me," Ermina grumbled, putting a hand over her face. She and Tay were exactly the same, and the centaur knew exactly what she was going to ask for.

"I have no particular loyalty to the kingdom," Varra continued. "They've largely left the region where I live to bandits, as Tay will attest to." Ermina remembered that Tay's parents were killed by men they owed money to, and he had to flee to the stable in the region to survive. It seemed this was an endemic problem.

"So, when they wanted people to help care for the horses and they were taking them to the land of the centaurs, I couldn't help but volunteer!" Varra grinned widely. "Meeting one would be the fulfillment of the ultimate fantasy, wouldn't it Tay?"

Tay abruptly coughed and fidgeted nervously. "Ha! Ahaha! No idea what you mean!" Would this nightmare end for him already?

"I get it!" Ermina cried. "You want to...meet a male centaur."

"As soon as possible!" Varra cried, interlocking her fingers and holding them by her chin. "Then I'll be happy to keep your little secret!"

"I wish I could just wake up..." Tay muttered.

"This is going to be hell to explain," Ermina added.

*

The pigwomen had a terrible task ahead of them. The Demon Queen had given the order for them to manufacture alraune dust. Different from the incense they made, the dust could instantly enchant a person just from a single sniff, no burning needed. The queen intended to make a weapon out of them, although Minerva wasn't sold on the prospect. The dust could easily blow back in their faces, quite literally. The demon's order was an order she couldn't disobey, however.

Minerva gathered the top ladies who manufactured the dust back at their home. There was a single alraune back at the oasis that they harvested from. It was delicate and dangerous work, and more than a few times they had to drag women away lest the alraune grab one of them. The place where the Demon Queen was camped was the pigwomen's old home, and since they left many decades ago, a dozen alraunes had taken root. No doubt they had fed on the pigmen left behind and multiplied. Once their prey had dispersed into the desert, the alraunes simply waited. The damn plant monsters could last for centuries, just waiting. Even if the Demon Queen ordered them to cooperate...there was no guarantee they would. Waiting decades for food and for it to be right in front of you was very tempting.

Minerva and the team stood in front of the alraunes, terrified to even begin. Several of them were already twitching. This was a sign they were eager to spray. Gathering the dust normally involved setting up receptacles around the roots, have a brave pigwoman stomp on one of them, and then running like a madwoman to avoid getting sprayed. According to the Demon Queen, however, the alraunes would just allow them to grab the roots. Again, Minerva wasn't sold. She took a deep breath and wrapped a cloth around her face, as if it would help. As the leader, it was her duty to go first into danger. She stepped forward to the nearest alraune. As calm as she could manage, she reached down and grabbed one of the roots. They weren't true tree roots, they only resembled them. In reality, it was more like a starfish's arm. There were feelers all over them and even a nudge would set an alraune off. Minerva stuck the tendril into a jar and waited. Nothing happened. Annoyed, and probably pushing her luck, the pigwoman gave it a tug, trying to get it to empty. Instead, the flower bloomed open.