Council of Elders Ch. 04


But never mind all that! I hate that I am writing my own set of rules for the supernatural species, but I can’t help it.

Enjoy the show XOXO


Fenris stared at the man in his sleeping bag. He was short, maybe 5’8″. He had short curly black hair and though his eyes were closed, Fenris could remember the dark brown pools that shone from within. He was fairly slim, but he had definite bulk across his shoulders as well as a visible line of abs on his stomach.

His clothes had torn entirely during his transformation and Fenris had been forced to donate some of his own that he had been carrying in a suitcase that, fortunately, hadn’t been incinerated in the helicopter crash. They were still hanging loosely from Owen’s frame, but the boy hadn’t seemed to notice. He was probably too exhausted to realise he was wearing clothes that were at least four sizes too big for him.

During those brief moments of nudity when Fenris had a lapse in manners, he had seen Owen’s naked body. He had seen the flaccid member lying peacefully across his thigh, seen the carefully cultivated patch of hairs that led a trail from his abdomen to his crotch.

“You mustn’t get too attached lad.” Caesar told him with a sympathetic tone. “I know it’s difficult, but you have to remember what he is.”

“I know, I know. But he just seems so… harmless.”

“It is harmful though boy. It would kill you if it could.”

“He’s not an it. He’s a guy, just like you and me.”

“But we’re not just guys either. We’re werewolves lad… well I used to be. Damn strong ones at that.”

“I feel for you, kid, I really do. But it’s too dangerous: you never know

what might start him off again.”

“I get it Caesar, I get it. No falling for Daemons.” He sat down and began to brood.

Here he was, in the prime of life, with nothing to lose. He had an ancient werewolf camping inside his head and he had a very cute Daemon asleep in his sleeping bag. He had successfully captured his target and temporarily saved the world. But something still nagged at him. He was twitchy and on edge constantly since he had picked up the Daemon. He was always worried that he would say or do something that would reveal his true nature. Life was shitty.


Caesar watched his host and listened to his mental ramblings for as long as he could bear, but there was only so much angst a man can take before he wants to make a run for the border. He sank out of Fenris’ field of vision and retreated to his own little corner of the boy’s mind.

It was important that he remained focused on the task at hand, even though they were momentarily victorious they couldn’t just stop working. He hadn’t detected any decrease in the energy being emitted from the obelisk, so the sentience they had trapped inside it must still sense a threat. Was it possible that the people the Daemon had been able to kill had possessed enough combined force to allow more of the Pit’s denizens to cross? He had been targeting stronger sources of power first, but Caesar had felt the Mjols come and leave this reality before they had had time to intercept the little critters.

If enough of our reality’s essence had been transferred to the Pit then small particles of Chaos would be able to filter back. The overall effect was miniscule until the number of particles reached the point when they could collide with each other. Once two Chaos particles smashed together and fused, they would begin to attract other particles of the same origin. If enough clumped together then a doorway would open permanently. There were so few Chaos particles crossing naturally and they decayed so quickly that nothing had ever happened so far, but if the Daemon were somehow reactivated then it would work to increase the flow.

The only logical plan of action was to execute the Daemon and therefore avert catastrophe, but Caesar knew that Fenris would never do it. It was a definite character flaw that the boy had such powerful distinctions between right and wrong. Very few people were lucky enough to be born without empathy and those that were often became homicidal monsters, Caesar had only met one pacifist psychopath in his entire lifetime. Even then, the vampire was only a pacifist because he couldn’t be bothered with the “paperwork” of murder.

Caesar frowned internally. It was unlikely that he gaziantep escort could convince Fenris to relinquish control of the body for long enough for him to kill the Daemon. And since Fenris and Caesar were the only two people alive who knew what Owen was it was unlikely that he would ever be able to coerce someone else into doing it for him, especially since no one else could see or hear Caesar.

Then it struck him, he would have to tell Owen about his true nature and

compel him to take his own life for the common good. But that was highly

risky; it could trigger the transformation and reawaken the Daemon. No,

Caesar would just have to wait for the perfect opportunity to strike.


Owen awoke the next morning feeling refreshed and restored. His mind felt

cleared of all the cobwebs that had been floating around in it last night. A result of which was that he realised a the significance of a few key details he might otherwise have missed.

1) He was in the middle of nowhere.

2) He was accompanied by two strangers.

3) One of the strangers was highly physically threatening.

4) The other was a creepy old man who was always staring at him.

5) He was wearing the clothes of someone much larger than he was.

6) He was lying in a sleeping bag that was not his own.

And finally 7) He had no memory of the last two days before meeting the two strangers.

This all added up to only one possibility: he had been drugged and kidnapped by an evil satanic cult that wanted to sacrifice him to their heathen god. It was the only plausible explanation that occurred to him. He tried to stand up in order to escape, but his legs still considered themselves to be asleep and he ended up falling flat on his face in front of the giant.

“Uh… Freddie is it?” he asked while attempting to roll onto his knees. He received a nod after a hesitant pause. “Um… would it be possible for me to… leave?”

“About that…” Fenris grinned sheepishly. “Well the thing is… no, you can’t.”

“Ah. I thought so. Well, it was worth asking.” Owen closed his eyes, ran his tongue over his teeth and slumped dramatically.

“It’s nothing personal. I just can’t let you go anywhere, at least not yet.” This last part gave Owen hope; it implied the possibility for escape at a later moment.

“No it’s fine, don’t worry about it. All I ask is that you kill me before you eat me.” Fenris stepped back in shock at the accusation.

“I’m not going to EAT you! What made you think that?”

“Well you obviously gave me something to make me forget the last 48 hours, and you must have kidnapped me. If it’s a ransom you’re after then you’ve stolen the wrong guy, my parents are both retired and on a fixed income.”

“But where does the eating come into it?”

“Well, that creepy old guy kept talking about demons and stuff, so I just assumed you were cannibalistic Satan worshipers. No offence. I’m sure you guys get a lot of stick from your victims about that sort of thing.” Owen spoke frankly without any hint of irony.

Fenris blinked and then began to laugh, a deep baritone that melted over Owen like treacle and made him tingle all over. If he got to listen to that laugh again then he didn’t mind if he ended up dinner for a band of crazies with a craving for human flesh.

“You’re insane, you know that right?” Fenris was saying between bellows of mirth. “We’re not Satan worshipers, we’re… paranormal investigators.”

“What kind of an idiot do you take me for?” Owen rolled his eyes. “You don’t look dumb enough to believe in rubbish like werewolves and vampires.” Fenris was wounded at the derisive tone in Owen’s voice.

“But apparently dumb enough to worship the Devil?”

“Okay, so maybe I went a little bit overboard. But seriously, what was I supposed to think? I wake up in another guy’s clothes, in the middle of nowhere and I get told I’m not allowed to leave.”

“The reason I don’t want you to go is because I don’t want you to get lost. The reason you’re wearing my clothes is because you were naked when we found you and we didn’t want you to catch your death. As for being in the middle of nowhere, we found you not the other way around.”

Owen felt bad for being so quick to jump to conclusions and he couldn’t help but feel a slight thrill when he heard that he was wearing the hunk’s clothes.

“I’m sorry, I just… I don’t know. I guess I lost it.”

“That’s fine. Do you want to be well-done or medium-rare?”

Fenris nearly collapsed at the look of horror on Owen’s face. As the joke dawned, Owen began to laugh too. In those early morning moments, he fell a little bit more in love with the man he knew as Freddie.


A small tear formed in the upper atmosphere. It widened to the size of a small boulder and a stream of black dust began to flow out of it. The dust curled in the atmosphere and as they jostled and smacked into each other a great red eye opened in the tear and began to swivel to take in the sky. The eye closed and the stream started to flow even faster, the tear continuing to widen until it stretched for ten yards. The flow ceased suddenly and the dust seemed to settle in the air.

The dust began to coagulate into a flock of raven-like birds with two sets of wings that flapped in an alternating rhythm. There were about ten of the birds that cawed, screeched, and whirled in the dense air. The eye opened again and burned a jealous scarlet before the tear slammed shut with an audible finality.

The birds formed a circle and began to fly in a ring, faster and faster until the movement was a blur of ebony feathers. The ring tightened into a writhing ball that stretched and squirmed. It pushed at the edges of its confinement, until eventually it took the shape of a tall woman wearing a black dress of impeccable tailoring forged from a material unheard of on Earth. She had pale skin like the marble of a tomb, but her eyes glowed red like all of her demonic kin. From between her shoulder blades spouted two feathered wings that fanned out as she began to descend to the frost-riddled ground.

“I’m here at last! Brother Abaddon was unable to complete his mission, thank the Gods, so I’m finally out of that hellhole.” She stretched luxuriously as she landed softly. Her voice was a melody that bewitched all who heard it, creeping into the mind like an ill-blown mist.

She snapped the fingers on her right hand and a small flame blossomed above her thumb. It billowed in the direction of north, despite the lack of wind. She snapped her fingers again and the fire winked out of existence. She rocketed back into the sky and twisted into intricate patterns, trying to exercise muscles she hadn’t used in millennia.

It had been SO long! But now, with the arrival of Brother Abaddon, it was time to take sweet revenge on the inhabitants of this dimension. For too long had the Pit been a second class reality, for too long had they suffered the indignity of being trapped under the barriers of causality. It was their opportunity to rend this world asunder and create a new dominant force. And if the Creator dared to defy them then they would unleash their latest weapon.

The weapon had taken centuries to build. It had to be kept hidden under layers of wrought Chaos to prevent Him from detecting its presence, so it was nearly impossible to work on without months of prior planning and careful timing. But with the latest breakthrough, the Pit had found a way to annihilate the Creator himself. Not that they had tested it of course. Any action could potentially backfire horrifically and they would be brought before the Creator charged with the ultimate act of treason. But maybe “build” had been the wrong word. The weapon had been grown.


Fenris stared gloomily into the coming dawn. He could feel something alien moving out there, it was coming towards them again. There was never any rest for any of them, it would seem. The moment they ended one crisis, they went careening into another one that would probably also end in the destruction of the home-side’s universe.

All he had ever wanted was a little bit of respect; instead, he was stranded in an English forest with the proverbial boy-toy and a perverted old man who just happened to be one of the most powerfully magical creatures alive.

He yawned deeply and lay down on the dewy grass. He watched the steady rise and fall of his young captive’s chest as the Daemon slept. It was all the boy seemed to do, he was constantly in a state of unconsciousness that made it difficult to gauge his reactions to the events of the last few hours.

He was a fine specimen alright and despite his best efforts Fenris felt a hunger deep in his bones that had nothing to do with food. He could smell the boys intoxicating scent and it was driving him mad. He was so deep in lust that he didn’t even care that the object of his desire wasn’t even from the same reality.

He stood quietly and moved away from the campfire into a more secluded area of the woods that was still steeped in shadows that clung to the trees like a lover. He undid the button of his tight jeans and slowly rolled them down his thick thighs until they rested by his ankles. Next to go were his boxers, which were being stretched painfully tight by the force of his hard dick.

He was standing with his t-shirt on and his pants around his ankles with a huge erection sticking out from his groin. He had been very fortunate in that, despite his height, he had obtained his father’s genes in one specific area. Fenris had a beautiful cock that bobbed in the cold morning air with a nonchalance only fitting to the grossly oversized.

It was nine gorgeous inches of solid dick that stuck straight out without any hint of drooping due to lack of blood supply. It was criss-crossed with veins and arteries that ensured that he would remain at full capacity for as long as he needed to. He was well acquainted with his right hand, and had yet to know the feel of another’s bare skin on his own, but he knew that when it came to it he would never have a problem with “maintaining focus”.

He leaned one giant hairy arm against a tree on his left as his other hand began to make the journey down to his expanded crotch. He wrapped his hand around the girth of the base and moved it up in a lazy stroke that made him feel weak at the knees. Indeed, on the next stroke he began to pant heavily and dropped onto his backside to stop himself falling over at a critical juncture. He now had both hands free to hold his cock and he curled them both around it and rocked back and forth into his vice like fists. The friction began to make him whimper in pleasure and he used his thumb to dab at the gushing pre-cum that was issuing from the head of his dick.

He brought his finger to his lips and his tongue snaked out to taste the salty appetiser. He quickened his movements and continued to hunch forward, feeling the tingling in his pendulous balls that signalled an oncoming eruption.

With a bellow of triumph, he aimed his throbbing member at his mouth and several spurts of thick creamy cum shot out of his piss-slit. The volleys landed in his open mouth and he had to swallow more than once to stop himself from choking on the sheer volume of his release.

He licked his coated lips and sucked the remains off of the end of his fingers, pausing momentarily to inspect the way it made his hands seem webbed like a lizard.

He felt so much better after that, it was definitely worth the five minute trek from the campsite to this secluded clearing.


Owen struggled to stifle his own yell as he emptied his own load into the

bush he was hiding behind. He groaned quietly as he watched Freddie stand and pull up his boxers and jeans and button himself together. The giant was breathing heavily and seemed slightly disorientated.

SHIT! He had to get back to the campsite first or Freddie would know he’d

been watched! The show was definitely worth getting eaten or whatever cruel punishment awaited him. That was for certain. It was one of the hottest scenes he had ever witnessed in his life and he couldn’t help but feel that it had been in his honour.

The sight of the big man eagerly sucking up his own spunk was something that Owen would never forget. No straight guy liked jizz that much, no fucking way. The guy couldn’t even pretend anymore. It was like one of those gay-for-pay porn stars who claimed to be straight but took far too much pleasure in wringing every last drop from his partner to fool anyone.

And that DICK! Oh God! It was the most erotic monstrosity he had ever seen. It was proportioned to Freddie’s body, but it still looked like it belonged on a horse rather than a human being.

These thoughts remained on repeat the whole time that Owen was hurtling through the trees back to the tent that he had pretended to be sleeping in.


Sorry that its comparatively short, but I didn’t feel up to much and I wasn’t feeling very inspired. Plus I thought this was a good place to end before the next epic fight scene.

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