Drysart gets his just desserts - EverCrest Message Forums

Author

Topic: Drysart gets his just desserts

Mr. Parcelan

posted 04-06-2004 09:22:32 PM

"And in conclusion, Bush is responsible for 9/11, the lives lost in Iraq, and one hundred other yet-unnamed atrocities," Drysart read the final words in his post, grinning to himself as he clicked the "Post Reply" button.

He licked his lips in glee; this sort of thing always gave him a rush. As administrator, his activity was strictly limited. Flames, he could not be a part of in good conscience. Nor could he willingly participate in the slanderous, everyday activities of the board. But politics...there was a battlefield in which all men, no matter their rank, were equal.

He wiggled in his seat, squealing at the feel of his computer chair's soft leather against his naked rear. He was pantsless, of course, as he always was when he tended to his online duties. The feel of denim or canvas against his pelvis just felt...so wrong. It was like caging a beautiful mockingbird, he often thought to himself: they were gorgeous in captivity, but even more beautiful in the natural.

Besides, it aided his super decision-making powers.

There were many decisions he had lived to regret making, however...and today, there would be another.

This became abundantly clear as he heard the heavy breathing behind him, and became aware of a black shadow obscuring the glow of his computer: a blot so dark it was a greater void than even the lightless depths of his study. The hair on his naked rump stood on end as he heard the guttural growl behind him.

It appeared he had a visitor.

With a spin of his chair, he whirled about to see who had come to defile his study. His tongue leapt backwards into his throat, so hard he gasped, as he came face-to-face with the monstrosity squatting before him.

Its body resembled that of a powerful, maneless lion, poised upon its haunches, behind which a long, thorn-encrusted tail lashed eagerly. A pair of bat-like wings sprouting from the beast's back twitched and spasmed, as though they awaited eagerly to be put to use. The face, though, is what caused Drysart to nearly choke on his own spittle. A man's face, deformed and feral, stared at him, black, glassy eyes looking deep into his own wide, unblinking ones. A long, black tongue licked its lipless face, revealing a glimmering set of sharp teeth, glistening from the gooey saliva the tongue left behind.

It was a Manticore...a beast that should not have been. At the moment, Drysart couldn't comprehend its true nature. Instead, his fervered brain merely categorized the monster with something else that shouldn't have been...

"You damn furries," he whispered breathlessly, "I knew you'd come for me one day! But I won't go down without a fight!"

With a roar that sounded more like a squeal, the pantsless administrator hurled himself at the Manticore, flying from his chair like a catapult boulder. His roar was quickly replaced by a terrified screech, however, as his pasty white form was swatted out of the air like a gnat by the beast's massive paw. The gnat became a white, writhing maggot as the Manticore's great claw pressed him upon his stomach, squealing and flailing his limbs as the great beast shifted over him.

"Get your paws off me, you damn, dirty furry!" he screamed, but to no avail. Whatever language the beast understood, Drysart did not speak...except for the language of humiliated pain.

It was a language he would soon become well-versed in as he felt the sudden slap of the Manticore's thorn-covered tail against his naked buttocks. Suddenly, and for the first time in his life, he regretted not wearing pants.

He would regret it a thousand times over as the beast continued to paddle him with its tail, never quite piercing the flesh, but the spanks he was given weren't quite the type he preferred. By the time the beast was through, Drysart's healthy, almost glowing, rear that had once been his pride and joy was an ugly, swollen pink...like a deformed fetus that had been sitting in front of the computer for far too long.

"Sweet Jesus!" he screamed, banging the floor for mercy. "I am both terrified and aroused!"

The words that sprang from his mouth alarmed him almost as much as the sudden weight he felt upon his backside as he realized the Manticore was squatting. There was nothing he could say, however, that could terrify him as much as what happened next.

His bottom stung and nearly screaamed in pain itself as its rosy cheeks were forcefully parted to allow a meaty column of lionhood in. He gripped the carpet and bit his lower lip so hard he almost bled. His eyes bugged out, bulging with the contained squeals he held inside of him. If only, if only that were the only thing inside of him.

He held it until he could hold it no longer, and he unleashed a terrible scream, mixed with the heaving grunts of the Manticore as the beast pulled out and in like an iron pump, piercing Drysart's backdoor virginity like a ballista arrow. His fingernails bled from clawing at the carpet, his voice began to hoarse from the screams and his eyes went blind with the tears welling up in his vision.

"DEAR GOD, HELP ME!" he screamed. "SOMEBODY, PLEASE! I'M BEING RAPED BY A MANTICORE! OH GOD, THE PAIN!"

There was no one to hear him, however...except his vicious, inhuman rapist and the elderly couple next door.

"My, that boy is loud," said old Edna, shaking her head at the noise emanating from the house next door. "I suppose he must be with a female again."

"Yep," replied her elderly mate, Emmerson. "Can't say I approve of these new kinky games they play, though. I mean...whoever heard of being violated by a mythical beast? Is there a classification for those kind of people?"

Up until that night...there hadn't been.