monster mash: the sabbath reverie (Patreon)

hi res: https://i.imgur.com/JIUMijo.png

after a long day of turning hardened witch-hunters into drooling devotees, The Great Friend and Helper rewarded the newly-converted acolytes with a night of reverie and pleasure. 

at some point in the endless night, amidst the rough fucking and buggery and drunken revelry and all the yelped-out mid-rut declarations of loyalty to their new Savior, each new recruit realized something somewhere in the foggy attics of their minds, and what they realized was this: since signing the Great Friend's great leatherbound ledger book in blood, they could no longer remember their own names. 

one of the young former witch-hunters was attempting to remember his (a proud name from a powerful house, and he was the last in a long and illustrious family line.... but what line -was- it?) just as two broad, rough paws closed in around the young dog's bare hips.  kneading gently but powerfully, those big thumbs and fingers nearly meeting around the mutt's narrow waist.

"christ," said the huge badger, laughing to himself. the towering badger had once been the dog's grizzled, hard-to-please commanding officer--they had been master and apprentice once, but no longer. the immense nakedness of his former commander behind him made the dog's face flush, even in the midst of all the casual buggery that surrounded them. the badger shook his broad, drunken head slowly and sighed deep in his barrel chest, like a man admiring the cleverness of a very clever joke, processing it, turning it over in his mind. 

with one huge mitt he gently, but irresistibly, pushed the dog down into the soft grass, onto his stomach. the badger adjusted his blunt cock and laid down on him, easily eclipsing his former trainee with his scarred, muscular bulk. his snout nuzzled into the dog's ear and he began to whisper something nasty about how the dog's waist was no wider around than the badger's thigh, about how it had been decades too long, about how he was going to ride the dog hard and put him away wet. but the dog's mind was elsewhere, trying to remember something that didn't seem all that important anymore. ("was it peter? no.... maybe thomas? was it john?") 

the elder badger let out a long, low rumbling groan as he pushed himself into the younger man's bare ass, unable to believe his own good fortune. he looked to the Great Friend, floating silently above them all, and said a little prayer of gratitude.

"settle in, boyo--you're in for it now," the older man grunted, and meant it as genuine, practical advice. it had been too far too long, and he was going to make up for lost time.