This guy is the inspiration for the character, Nātha. Support the artist, Jui, here.

****

Note: This story is inspired by the very excellent, Grand Master of Demonic Cultivation. If you haven’t read it or watched the anime or live-action series, I encourage you to do so. The character of Nātha in his 39th lifetime has a personality more like Lan Zhan and, in his 32nd lifetime, is more like Wei Wuxian. Like the books, this is a story within a story. Also like the books, it’s sort of a murder mystery.

Main themes: Werewolf, Danmei, Cursed, Cock Growth, Ball Growth, Muscle Growth, Anthro-Furry, Castration, Transformation, Historical Fiction, Intersex, Demons, Bizarre TFs, Extreme TFs

Quick Links

***

Prologue

When the Mongols invaded the Kingdom of Hungary in 1241, no one expected that it would lead to the unification of the warring states of Europe under a united banner of Christendom, the likes of which had not been seen in Europe for centuries. The Holy Roman Empire, the Franks, the Aragonians, the Scandinavian states, the principalities of the Kievan Rus and even the fragmented armies of the exiled Byzantine Empire joined forces, setting aside their religious and cultural differences in the face of such an unrelenting foe. Even the Crusades were abandoned in the effort to push back the invaders.

Success came with surprising speed and Pope Gregory IX called for a new Crusade to root out and destroy the remnants of Ögedei Khan’s retreating armies. The united European armies encountered surprisingly little resistance as they pushed ever eastward. Led by the charismatic and shrewd Prince Stephen V, Duke of Slavonia and son of King Béla IV, the armies followed the Silk Road, spreading across a vast region from the Steppes of Asia to the borders of the Yuan Dynasty.

Stephen, a devout Christian, recognized that it wasn’t enough to conquer the land and peoples of the hated Mongols, he had to conquer their religion, too. To do this, he set his sights on Emerald Mountain, the spiritual home of the branch of Buddhism practiced by the Mongols and the residence of the thirty-ninth incarnation of Avalokiteśvara, a monk named Nātha.

Luck was on Stephen’s side. Emerald Mountain was impenetrable, protected by both its remote geography and an eldritch array of spiritual barriers. As such, it would take a thousand years to breach the defenses. Thanks to intelligence gained by his network of spies, however, he learned that Nātha wasn’t even on the mountain; he was just finishing up a pilgrimage to Jade Temple, another Buddhist sanctuary two hundred miles to the south. If the spy was to be believed, the Buddhist leader was currently in transit back to his permanent abode.

Stephen dispatched his most trusted general, Duque Inigo of Zaragoza. Inigo was a fearless commander, revered by his troops and famed for his brutality. He worked closely with the Mongol spy, Arban, who was familiar with the language, culture and geography of the area surrounding the Emerald Mountain enclave. Taking with him an elite group of soldiers, Inigo and his men crept across the borders of the Yuan Empire and made their way stealthily to intercept Nātha.

On the eve of autumn in the year 1243, Inigo learned that Nātha and his entourage had just walked into his trap. With the aid of a poison procured by Arban, he contaminated the group’s water supply, killing most of the monks outright and rendering the remainder incapacitated. Thus, in the wee hours of the morning, he and his special, elite guard were ready to strike.

Chapter 1

Gael of Ainsa was a minor lord from a minor town in Aragon. He’d been enlisted by Inigo at fifteen years of age when the duke overhead Gael’s father, Pedro, boasting of the lad’s strength and cunning. ‘Such a gifted young man,’ the duke had told the suddenly rueful Pedro, ‘should serve me. Have him report to my duchy in a week. I will put him to work.’ Gael hadn’t seen his family or his home since. And now he was in the humid mountains deep within the territory of the Yuan Dynasty.

Inigo had made a man out of him. Just turned nineteen, Gael was now a powerful warrior who wielded a broadsword like a meat cleaver, hacking his opponents to bits. His face, hands, arms and legs were covered by a faint latticework of scars. He was tall, his shoulders broad, his waist narrow and his backside quite developed from hours in the saddle and in battle. Unlike most men, he knew that his power came from his legs and had spent hours in training, giving him the biggest thighs of anyone in the guard. His face with its closely-trimmed, black beard and penetrating hazel eyes was known by women and men alike for its comeliness. He kept his charcoal brown hair trimmed short so that his big ears stuck out from the side of his head like the two handles from a jug of water. His left ear and eyebrow were notched from a glancing sword cut that had left a long, jagged scar across his temple.

At the moment, Gael was squatting down in a hastily-erected blind next to one of his compatriots, Sancho. Sancho was a large, portly man with a black mustache and startling blue eyes. He was old enough to be Gael’s father but, despite his age and weight, was one of the most formidable men in the unit.

“I can’t see anything.” Gael squinted into the darkness. They were stationed on a misty hillside in a forest of bamboo. Moisture dripped off the leaves, drenching both Gael and Sancho until they were chilled to the bone. Gael wished fervently that he could light a fire but knew that Inigo would have his hide if he did. The horses were tethered nearby and Gael’s stallion, Rocio, nickered softly in the gloom.

“Just wait, young master,” Sancho soothed. “Arban will give us the signal when it’s all clear.”

“Can we trust him?” Gael wondered, not for the first time. “I mean, he could be leading us into a trap.”

Sancho exhaled patiently. “He’s trustworthy alright. Inigo trusts him with our lives. You should, too.”

“I know but I still can’t help but–”

“Shh. I hear the whistle.”

Gael pricked up his ears. Arban’s signal was the song of a nightingale and, as his ears strained, he heard the bird calling from the valley down below. Sure enough, it was Arban’s call; he always drew out the last note longer than the actual bird. 

Sancho stood. “Let’s go. Inigo wants us to rush the camp.”

With that, the older man was off, weaving through the enormous stalks of bamboo with surprising agility. Gael watched him a moment before sprinting into action. He overtook him halfway down the ravine and had pulled far ahead by the time he climbed the rocky wall up to Nātha’s camp.

He arrived to find a murder scene. Inigo’s personal guards were driving their swords through the prostrate forms of white-robed monks. The monks had clearly died from the poison before Inigo arrived but Gael knew that his commander was being cautious; Arban had warned him that the poison might not kill everyone.

Inigo was standing beside a fire and turned to Gael as he neared, grinning from ear to ear. Well, to be clear, Inigo always looked like he was grinning from ear to ear because of the unfortunate scar left by a sword cut across his face that had lacerated his lips. The field medics had stitched him back together but he was forever left with that disconcerting leer. He looked maniacal even under the best of circumstances.

The bodies of at least fifty monks were strewn across the camp. Their white robes with spreading blood stains were visible even in the darkness, making it look like a field of snowy mounds rather than corpses. Gael schooled his features. He had been opposed to the use of poison because it struck him as both unmanly and unfair. He much preferred an honest battle over craven subterfuge. 

Inigo, however, had disagreed. ‘These are warrior monks, my boy,’ he’d said, sneering at Gael’s naivete. ‘They possess demonic powers against which our blades and arrows are useless. There is no way we could possibly best them in open combat. You need to learn when you’re outmatched and take advantage of every opportunity, regardless of how underhanded it may seem.’ Gael had acceded, bowing his head to his commander, but privately he still hated the idea of capturing Nātha this way.

And speaking of Nātha, Gael looked beyond Inigo to find the man he assumed was the 39th Avalokiteśvara seated calmly by the fire. He sat cross legged as if meditating, dressed in white robes like the rest of the monks. His dark hair was long and hung loosely down upon his shoulders like a black curtain. The only item that set him apart from the rest of his men was a snowy white ribbon tied around his forehead. In the center of the ribbon was a tiny emerald. The green gem had been fashioned into the shape of a mountain. Around it, mother-of-pearl inlay made it appear as if the peak were wreathed in clouds.

Gael stared at the man in fascination. He’d never met a Buddhist monk before, much less one who was the leader of an entire religion. Nātha sat with his eyes closed, his elegant face an impassive mask. His slender eyebrows were drawn together in concentration as he held two fingers against his wrist. It may have been his imagination but he thought he detected a faint, golden glow where those fingers pressed into the young man’s soft, almond-brown skin. He appeared so remote that it made Gael wonder if he was even aware that he’d been captured and all of his men had been slaughtered. (He looks so young! he thought. He can’t be much older than I am!) 

Gael turned to Inigo, inquiring, “How come he’s not dead? Why is he still alive when the rest of the monks have been poisoned?”

Inigo remained silent but the spy, Arban, detached himself from the shadows and faced Gael. An angular man of medium height with a faint beard and the barest trace of a mustache, he possessed the double-eyelids and barley-brown skin of his people. He wasn’t plain and he wasn’t handsome, either. One of the things about Arban that made him such a good spy was his ability to blend in just about anywhere. You saw him and forgot him; it was as easy as that.

“His spiritual power is higher than the others,” the spy replied in slightly accented Aragonés. (Another thing that made Arban such a valuable spy was his command of just about every language known to man.) “The weaker monks were killed outright but the more powerful ones would have eventually overcome the toxin’s effect if we hadn’t stabbed them.”

More of Inigo’s men were arriving all the time and soon the small camp was teeming with Aragonian warriors. They formed a ragged half-moon arc around the fire, perhaps ten paces in front of Inigo and Arban. Nātha sat behind them on the far side of the fire, his face still not betraying any hint he knew they were there.

“So,” Gael pressed, “what’s your plan now? Aren’t you going to kill him? That’s what Stephen wants, right?”

Inigo wouldn’t have tolerated such an impertinent question from just anyone but it was well known that, aside from Arban, Gael was Inigo’s favorite. The duke saw him as a younger version of himself and thus was known to be uncommonly patient with him. One might even say he doted on him. 

The corner of his scarred lip lifted. Inigo was opening his mouth to reply when a black shadow leaped out of the bushes from behind Nātha. Arban screamed, “It’s his demon wolf! Kill it!” Gael’s hand was on his sword even before the spy uttered a word and he had the perfect opportunity to slay the immense beast. He raised his arm to do just that but stopped, mesmerized, when the wolf fixed him with its yellow eyes.

Time slowed to a crawl as Gael swallowed, lost in the depths of the wolf’s uncanny yellow gaze. The creature was huge, far larger than a wolf should have been, and possessed the longest fangs that Gael had ever seen. It bared its teeth at him and seemed about to lunge for his throat when it changed course mid-leap and aimed instead for Inigo. The commander’s scream pierced the still night air as the wolf severed his arm with its jaws.

“KILL IT! KILL IT!” Arban shouted, imploring Gael to act.

Of all the soldiers present, Gael was the only one with quick reflexes and he was already brandishing his blade before the rest of the company had even pulled theirs from their dusty scabbards. 

The black wolf crunched down on Inigo’s shoulder before lifting its bloody muzzle to go for his neck. Gael lifted his sword but the wolf turned and met his gaze once again, causing him to freeze.

“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!” Arban screamed. “KILL THE WOLF NOW!”

The problem was that Gael could not. He was lost in the magnificent beast’s limpid gaze. Something ineffable passed between him and the wolf at that moment. He felt himself falling into the depths of those eerie yellow eyes that sparkled with an otherworldly light. 

He couldn’t kill it.

SPLAT!

Gael gave a start as he watched the wolf’s head part from its body and fall onto the ground at his feet. Its eyes were still fixed on his face as the eldritch fire died within them. Sancho’s sword had lopped the creature’s head clean off with one fatal blow.

Blood gushed out of the arteries from the wolf’s neck, mixing with Inigo’s. Soon the mud at their feet was red-brown and slushy with goo. Gael stood there, frozen, his sword held at the ready before him, unable to stop staring at the wolf’s severed head. Inigo was screaming his head off, clutching at his shoulder. Sancho was already kneeling to improvise a tourniquet from the robes of a fallen monk. And Arban was staring daggers at Gael, his eyes filled with hatred.

The whole while, Nātha sat unmoving before the fire, never opening his eyes nor removing his fingers from his wrist.

***

“Since you failed to act to kill his pet,” Inigo spat. “You will have the honor of killing him.” He inclined his head toward the silent Nātha. “Kill him. Now.”

Gael stood with his head bowed in shame before his commander. The decapitated body of the black wolf lay between them, its severed head off to the side. Inigo was pale from blood loss and could only stand with the aid of Arban but he was made of strong stuff; not even losing his left arm could stop him from exacting revenge on Nātha. His armor was still dripping with gore and his eyes shone with steely determination. The unsettling, permanent grin on his face was even more maniacal than usual. The rest of the soldiers held back, shaking their heads at Gael and wondering at their duke’s unusual forbearance. Anyone else in Gael’s place would be hanging from the gibbet right now. 

“Y-Y-You want me to kill Nātha?” Gael stammered. His hands were clammy and his heart was thudding in his chest. He couldn’t believe any of this was happening. His reflexes were legendary and he’d had plenty of time to stop the wolf’s assault before it attacked Inigo. Why had he frozen? And why was he so reluctant now? After four years as a soldier, killing was almost second nature to him and he’d long since overcome any vestiges of battle shock. He’d lost count of how many men he’d killed.

Inigo stared at him, flinty-eyed. “Who the FUCK else would I be talking about, lad? Take your sword and chop off his head. NOW!”

Gael lifted his quivering sword blade, aiming it generally in the direction of the monk’s head. He knew he was risking severe punishment by delaying the execution. He knew as well as anyone else present that, if he hadn’t been Inigo’s favorite, he would be dead right now. And further still, he knew that only by killing Nātha without hesitation did he stand a chance of winning his way back into Inigo’s good graces. After all, killing Nātha was the whole point of this monthslong endeavor!

In short, his future and reputation were on the line.

Swallowing hard, he raised his sword over the monk’s right shoulder. It was the perfect position for decapitation and ensured the blow would be swift and clean. All he had to do was what he did best: Kill. He’d done it innumerable times before. Just like this. He gritted his teeth and heaved the blade up higher, getting ready to strike. Around him, the other soldiers leaned forward, eagerly anticipating the end to this whole godforsaken mission into pagan lands.

Just as he was about to swing, though, Nātha opened his eyes and Gael froze. The monk lifted his chin and fixed him with his icy amber gaze. He had the most beautiful and disconcerting eyes that Gael had ever seen–apart from the eldritch wolf’s–and, for reasons unknown to him, tears trickled down his cheeks at the sight of them. 

He froze, sword stuck mid-swing, unable to complete the execution.

“OH, FOR CHRIST’S SAKE!” Inigo roared when it became clear that Gael had no intention of obeying his order. “SANCHO, GRAB HIM!”

Instantly, Gael felt rough hands take his arms and force them behind his back. His sword fell to the blood-soaked ground at his feet. Just like that, he was firmly incapacitated before his commander. Trembling with real fear, Gael gazed back at Inigo as the man rounded on him.

“WHERE THE FUCK IS YOUR MANHOOD?!” the duke screamed, eyes feral red in the firelight. “ARE YOU NOT A MAN ANYMORE?!”

Gael tried to lower his head but Inigo’s fist caught him on the jaw and his head was flung backward, the vertebrae in his neck cracking with whiplash. He tasted blood and saw stars. At the same time, he felt a strange tugging at his waist and the clinking of his belt buckle. The agony from Inigo’s punch was all-consuming and it took him a while to realize that Arban was kneeling down before him, unbuckling his trousers.

“Fine,” Inigo hissed, brandishing his dagger before Gael’s blood-drenched face. “You’ve made your choice and now I am making mine.”

For a moment, Gael thought he would stab him in the eye but at that moment Arban finally succeeded in loosening his belt and tugging down his trousers. Gael’s eyes went round when he felt the night air caress his manly parts. He was naked below the waist!

“Arban,” Inigo commanded through clenched teeth as he handed the spy his blade. “You know what to do. Since Gael has shown he’s incapable of being a man in battle, he no longer deserves to be a man at all. Cut off his balls!”

“What?! NO!!!” Gael howled in terror at these words, eyes bugging out of his head. “PLEASE!” he begged, feeling his floppy nuts swaying vulnerably between his hairy thighs. “DON’T DO IT! PLEASE JUST KILL ME INSTEAD!”

Even Sancho’s grip on Gael’s arms faltered slightly and he sputtered, “My Duke! Please–”

Inigo silenced them with a fiery glare. Gael knew that the duke considered begging to be womanish and thus Gael’s (and Sancho’s) plea only reinforced his decision to unman him. Gael cried out as he felt Arban’s hand grab his testicles and pull hard. Tears filled his eyes and his stomach turned to ice when he felt the cool edge of the dagger placed just below the base of his penis.

And then white hot pain seared through him as the Mongol spy castrated him, severing his balls and tossing them in the fire.

***

Chapter 2

Screaming in agony, Gael collapsed onto his butt and faded in and out of consciousness. He was lost, swimming in a sea of pain and humiliation. Even in this state, he could feel the blood pouring out of the wound on his crotch, splattering all over his naked thighs and soaking into the ground beneath his bare bottom. He was vaguely aware of a commotion around him but was too far gone to understand what was happening.

At some point, he blacked out entirely and had the most peculiar dream. In it, he was seated before what he at first thought was a campfire. A young man whom he recognized immediately as Nātha was kneeling on his right, facing a ghostly crowd. On Gael’s left lay an immense black wolf, seemingly asleep. The spectral forms facing them were shadowed, illuminated only by the soft, golden light of the fire. He blinked, realizing then the light wasn’t a campfire at all; rather, the light was pouring out of the center of Nātha’s chest.

As Gael watched the shadowy assembly, Nātha lifted his hands to his chest and leaned forward, decanting a glowing gold liquid from his heart. It poured into his hands like living light. Smiling, he offered the elixir as a gift to the crowd. One by one, the shadowy forms bowed to the young man before taking a sip from his outstretched hands. As they did so, their bodies blazed brilliant gold and then, one after another, they faded completely out of existence.

Gael exhaled after the last of the shadows dissolved, believing for a moment that he was alone with Nātha and the wolf. But then he looked out into the darkness and spotted a host of immense, crooked shapes writhing before them. These monstrous forms were so black that the golden light from Nātha’s chest could not illuminate them. Gael braced in fear at the sight of such unholy creatures but the wolf beside him merely lifted its muzzle and gazed out at them with disinterest. 

Like the wolf, Nātha remained impassive.

Nātha bowed to the monstrous creatures as if doing obeisance. Straightening from the bow, he leaned forward and decanted more of the light from his chest, offering it to them. Gael’s mouth fell open as he watched a smoldering black creature step forward and lower its fanged snout to drink deeply. As soon as it touched the liquid, its body transformed. The bestial form dissolved, revealing a glowing, almost angelic being in its place. One by one, the dark creatures followed suit until each one had drunk its fill. Once the last monster had partaken and all had been transformed into golden, winged beings, Nātha bowed a final time to them. With a bright flash, they all disappeared.

Gael realized he’d been holding his breath and exhaled. His mind was reeling with confusion at what he’d witnessed. What the hell was going on here?

His sigh drew Nātha’s attention. With perfect grace of movement, he looked over at Gael and pronounced two words: “Wake up.”

***

Gael’s eyelids fluttered open and he found himself staring up into that pair of mesmerizing icy amber eyes once again. He groaned, struggling to sit up but Nātha stopped him by placing a firm hand on his solar plexus. Instantly, the strength drained out of his body and he was left utterly helpless and unable to move. At that point, he realized his head was cradled in the monk’s lap.

“Rest.”

It was weird; Gael didn’t recognize the language yet he somehow understood it perfectly. But how? He furrowed his brow and would have spoken if Nātha hadn’t stopped him.

“Rest, Gael. Just rest.”

Nātha’s voice was so deep, so resonant, so pure. It was the equivalent of drinking sweet honey and Gael found that he craved to hear it again. Yet Nātha was already moving his fingers over Gael’s eyelids and pulling them downward.

He fell into a deep, restful slumber.

***

It was morning when he awoke. Overhead, the bamboo forest was awash with sunlight. The long stalks undulated in the breeze, turning the canopy into a roiling sea of emerald green. The thin, delicate leaves whispered like the waves of a distant surf and birdsong filled the air. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked around, realizing as he did so that he was completely naked under a light blanket that, upon closer inspection, turned out to be a monk’s white robe.

He jerked, bearded cheeks turning pink. Someone had stripped off his clothing while he slept! He clutched the robe firmly around his waist and sat up. Where was Nātha?

“The bastard is up there. On the mountaintop.”

Gael gave a start of surprise when he saw the speaker was Inigo. Apparently, the duke was alive and as well as could be expected, given the nature of his injuries. There were numerous, tight bandages around his shoulder where his left arm should have been. He was propped up against a log and his scarred face cleaned of mud and blood. Thin rope coiled about his chest, keeping him firmly in place. 

He scowled at Gael, dark eyes filled with loathing. “Traitor!” he spat. “You sold us out! I should’ve fucking killed you when I had a chance!”

Gael realized two things at that moment. First, unlike Inigo, he was not tied up and, second, there were bandages on his own body…down there…he could feel them wrapped tightly around his…well, around his male appendage. He reached down to feel himself, snatching his hand away a moment later in stunned disbelief.

“My balls!” he shouted joyfully. “They’re back! But how–?”

He wasn’t imagining it. Though covered in bandages and tender to the touch, his fingers and eyes confirmed what his mind could not comprehend: He had a good-sized pair of testicles beneath all that wrapping. In fact, they were even bigger than good-sized; they were fucking humongous! Even though he knew they were probably just really swollen from being cut off and then miraculously reattached, he nonetheless couldn’t stop his face from breaking into a proud grin. He had a pair of bull balls!

Inigo gave him a dark look, scarred lip lifting. “Don’t get too excited. It’s just sorcery, you big idiot! He’s enchanted you!” He raked his hate-filled gaze over the campsite. “And everyone else, too! You should’ve listened and killed him when I told you to!”

Grin fading slightly, Gael followed Inigo’s stare, giving a small start when he saw the soldiers from the duke’s army milling about the camp. Their arms hung down limply at their sides and they shuffled aimlessly about, bare feet dragging on the ground. When one of them turned toward him, Gael gasped; the man’s eyeballs were completely white. Worse still, black, angry veins crept up his ashen neck. Gael looked from man to man, realizing with rising dread that they had all been turned into what appeared to be shambling corpses.

“Wh-Wh-What happened to them?” When he spotted the large, stooped form of Sancho among the cursed group, his heart twisted. Sancho was like a father to him and seeing him like that was almost more than he could bear.

Inigo clenched his jaw, remaining silent. Instead another gruff voice answered his question, “Corpse poisoning.”

It was Arban.

Gael looked up to find the spy leaning heavily on a stick nearby. When he met his gaze, Arban turned his head and spat at Gael’s feet.

“Corpse poisoning?” Gael repeated.

“It’s a demonic cultivation technique,” the man explained as if his words should mean something to Gael. Arban’s angular face was even more angular than usual and Gael realized it was because he was in pain. “I should’ve known the bastard would use it against us!”

“I have no idea what any of that means,” Gael said honestly. “Can you tell me if they’re dead or alive?”

“Oh, they’re alive,” the spy answered, wrinkling his nose. “Barely. If they don’t get the cure soon, though…well, they will become an even bigger problem for us.”

“An even bigger problem? How?” Gael looked out at the soldiers, skin prickling with fear. He forced it aside, though. “Let’s take a step back. Can you tell me what happened after you–?”

“After I unmanned you?” the spy finished, sneering. He laughed at Gael’s scowl, “Ha! And I’d do it again in a heartbeat. The only reason I haven’t done so already is that I’m poisoned, too. Yes, just like them, I’m under his control. I’d be a drooling idiot right now if I hadn’t trained as a monk and learned how to slow the curse’s effects.”

He gestured angrily down at his leg. Gael’s eyebrows lifted in surprise when he saw the bite mark on Arban’s calf. His trouser leg was ripped wide open, revealing an angry, black bruise spreading outward from the bite area. Even Gael could see that it was much more than just a simple bruise; the veins around it had already become a black spiderweb reaching nearly up to his knee.

“That’s ‘corpse poisoning’?” Gael asked in a hushed tone. The horror of seeing what had become of the men had quickly replaced any elation he’d felt at seeing his newly-restored testicles. “So, you were bitten by a…corpse? How could a corpse bite you? It’s dead!”

“Because Nātha brought them back to life, you idiot!” Arban gestured across the camp where the ground was still stained from the blood of the dead monks. The bodies of the monks, however, were nowhere to be seen. “He raised his monks from the dead and ordered them to attack us! There was nothing we could do. Swords and other weapons are useless!”

Gael was stupefied. He had no idea that such a thing was even possible! Oh, he’d heard rumors in his village of witchcraft and other forms of black magic but he’d never seen it firsthand and had always assumed it was just superstition.

As the silence stretched and Gael gaped at the lurching bodies of his bewitched comrades, it was Inigo who spoke next. The duke winced in pain, clutching his bandaged shoulder as he glared up at Arban. “Why didn’t you warn us? Why didn’t you tell me that he could raise demons?”

Arban reacted as if stricken. “My duke! I didn’t know! Nātha is supposed to be the incarnation of compassion and loving kindness. That is Avalokiteśvara’s nature, to love and nurture and protect! He does not cultivate the dark arts!”

Inigo snorted. “Compassion and loving kindness, my arse! All you slanty-eyed devils are the same. I see that now. I was a fool to trust you.”

Deep hurt swept across Arban’s face but it was gone so quickly that Gael wondered if he’d imagined it. The next moment, the spy schooled his features and his face became a stoic mask once again. The eyes he turned toward Gael, however, flamed with bitter hatred.

From Gael’s position, it seemed more than a little ironic that Inigo was bemoaning Nātha’s underhanded tactics when he himself had used poison to kill the monks. On top of this, for the first time since joining this campaign, he questioned the morality of murdering a man who was supposed to be the earthly embodiment of love and compassion. Even to a devout Catholic like himself, it seemed like an abomination…but, why was he only realizing this now? Until last night, he’d never once questioned the righteousness of Stephen’s campaign. The Pope had declared a Holy Crusade after all!

He put his face in his hands, massaging his temples. He was so confused! He felt like he’d awakened into a completely different world from the one he knew. Suddenly, all of the rules had changed and things were possible that should have been impossible and motives that had seemed pure now seemed corrupt.

And he had changed, too.

He looked down at his hands then, noticing for the first time how clean they were. He pulled back the robe and looked at his bare torso. His light brown, hairy skin was scrubbed spotless. Further, his body smelled good. He flared his nostrils, detecting hints of an exotic spice he couldn’t name. Wait, no, he recognized it! He’d smelled it during special holiday masses when the village priest would break out the exotic incense. It was sandalwood!

He inhaled deeply, relishing the aroma. Slowly, he realized he could detect a host of other scents in the air. He lifted his nose and smiled when he detected his stallion Rocio’s rich musky smell. And Sancho’s mare, Fatima, as well. Wait, was she in season again?

He scarcely had time to wonder about this newfound olfactory sensitivity when he smelled the smoke. Turning, he saw a billowing black column rising from the hilltop behind him. He didn’t even think, he stood, slipping the robe over his shoulders and headed up to investigate the source of the smoke.

His body felt odd. His neck and jaw were sore from Inigo’s punch and, with his tongue, he could feel the scar inside his mouth where his teeth had bitten into his cheek. The cut was mostly healed, though. He actually felt a lot better than he should have.

His balls were throbbing slightly within the bandages but, like his neck, the pain was a lot less than he would’ve expected. He couldn’t even begin to fathom how Nātha had managed to reattach or regrow his testicles, bigger and heavier than before, but he wasn’t about to complain. It was a lot better than being a eunuch for the rest of his life! Despite everything, he found himself grinning as he made his way gingerly up to the top of the hill.

He emerged atop the ridge to find a blazing inferno and blasting heat. The monk had been busy while Gael slept! In a few hours, he’d built a platform of wood and dragged the bodies of his compatriots to the mountaintop, laying them side-by-side atop the pyre. When Gael arrived, he’d already set fire to it and the bodies of the dead monks were well on the way to becoming ash. Gael squinted at the burning bodies, trying to detect anything sinister but they looked just like regular corpses to him. It was hard to tell, though; their robes were already ablaze and their skin was beginning to char and peel away.

Gael hung back, taking in the unsettling scene. He’d never witnessed a cremation before.

The wind whipped the smoke upward into the brilliant blue sky such that the odor of burning flesh wasn’t overpowering. Nātha was seated before the fire with his back to him. He’d done away with his snowy white robe and was clad in a pair of tight-fitting black leather breeches and a sleeveless black vest. Gael’s eyes widened when he saw Nātha’s broad, muscular back. He wouldn’t have guessed that a monk would be so powerfully built!

The body of the black wolf was lying between Nātha and the burning funeral pyre. The monk must have reattached the beast’s head to its body because, from what Gael could see, it looked intact. He watched as the young man cradled the wolf’s head in his lap, stroking its sable fur. Nātha lowered his lips to kiss the creature’s furry brow before lifting his head and looking back at Gael.

Ah, those icy amber eyes!

Gael froze, a chill radiating up his spine. Nātha was just so…so…so…

“Help me.”

The monk’s voice was cool, authoritative, resonant. It was beautiful. Yes, Nātha had a beautiful voice.

Gael didn’t even question how he understood the language that Nātha spoke, he instinctively moved forward, asking, “How? What can I do?”

Nātha gently laid the wolf’s head down on top of a robe that was spread out beneath them. Then he stood and motioned toward another, smaller pyre nearby. “Help me carry him over there.”

Gael complied, heart pounding in his chest. He had no idea why but simply being in proximity to the young monk was enough to get his blood pumping. He approached, lifting his nostrils as he detected the scent of sandalwood. It was emanating from Nātha’s body. He smiled.

They carried the wolf over to the pyre and lovingly laid him out. Nātha had closed the creature’s eyes and cleaned his fur so that it looked like he was sleeping. While Gael looked on, Nātha brushed tears from his eyes. Then, kneeling in reverence before the wolf’s body, he traced a quick gesture in the air. 

The pyre burst into flame before Gael’s startled eyes.

He took a step backward, both out of fear and to get away from the sudden blaze of heat. “H-H-How’d you do that?” he stuttered.

Nātha met his gaze with a mild expression but didn’t reply. Nātha, Gael was learning, was not much for words.

The young monk turned back to the fire and gazed impassively as the flames consumed his beloved companion. He was silent for so long that Gael had plenty of time to study him. Nātha had removed the white ribbon from his forehead and his long, black hair hung loosely around his shoulders. The emerald and mother-of-pearl pendant now dangled from a black leather band around his neck. 

It was the monk’s weapon, though, that really got Gael’s attention; a sword of uncommon beauty was attached to his waist. Gael was fond of swords and had seen many of them but this one was in a class of its own. The scabbard was intricately wrought silver encrusted in emeralds; it displayed a fanciful mountain scene complete with mythical beasts and birds. The hilt was the palest silver, soft and white as the light of the moon. 

An inch or two of the blade was visible as if Nātha had purposely loosened it from the scabbard. Gael blinked when he saw that it was wrought from steel as black as midnight. It seemed to swallow all light. Seeing it, he took an inadvertent step backward. He didn’t need to witness the blade in action to know that it was beyond deadly.

As captivated as he was by the sword, he soon found his interest drawn to the monk himself. Nātha was tall. Standing an inch or so taller than Gael–who was a very tall man himself–his entire body was replete with muscles. Gael had never seen a man as broad and muscular as Nātha. It was like his golden-almond skin had been painted over his burgeoning sinews. Every tendon, striation and bulge was perfectly visible beneath the young monk’s smooth skin. He was, Gael knew, far more muscular than he was and yet he seemed to move with an almost weightless grace.

Something else, though, got Gael’s attention. Something even more incredible than the young man’s ethereal grace. It was so subtle, though, that it took him a moment to figure out what it was. When he did, he breathed in sharply.

There were no scars or blemishes on Nātha’s body.

But…how was that possible?

Gael’s examination of the monk doubled in intensity as he tried to figure it out. Nātha’s hands were calloused, showing that he had spent many hours training with the sword. His body was clearly strong, its hefty muscles built up from strenuous exercise. Unless he’d somehow used sorcery or had a team of hidden horses, he’d single-handedly hauled a bunch of timber up the mountainside to create the funeral pyres. And he’d topped this off by hauling the bodies of his fellow monks up here as well. Such a feat would have left Gael completely spent.

Yes, Nātha was clearly a warrior.

But a warrior without any scars?

How was that possible?

“I need to wash.”

Gael jumped a little when he realized that Nātha had been watching him. There seemed to be a hint of wry amusement on his otherwise unmoving face and his ice-amber eyes shone with just the slightest hint of mirth.

“Come with me?” the monk offered. “There is a river down in the valley. The one whose waters you poisoned last night. I think it’s safe to bathe in now.”

Gael winced. “Hey! That wasn’t my idea! I’ll have you know I was against that plan from the start.”

Nātha nodded. “I know.” Then, “Here. Take these. Can you cut my hair like yours?”

Gael looked down in surprise at the elegant pair of bronze scissors and small copper mirror that had materialized in Nātha’s hands. He accepted them, marveling at the cost of such items. He’d never seen anything quite like them, even when he and Inigo had visited Prince Stephen’s palace briefly two years ago. Clearly, Nātha had access to wealth far beyond anything Gael had ever seen.

Turning away, Nātha bowed a final time to the pyres. The fires had already begun to burn down by then. The ashes glowed softly in the sunlight, the delicate outlines of the monks’ bodies disintegrating into embers at a sudden gust of wind. And so they passed from this world, fifty monks and a black wolf. When Gael and Nātha turned to go, nothing but ash remained.

Nātha led the way down the mountain, taking Gael to a little stream nestled between jagged black rocks. Blooms of jasmine hung in fragrant curtains overhead, drifting down toward the water. White petals floated in the slow eddies, releasing their heady scent. Gael’s nostrils flare with delight.

Gael stood on a rock, sniffing the air and grinning, as Nātha removed his clothing and settled down into a shallow pool nearby. Seated in the slowly whirling water, he watched Gael, eyes unusually soft. His long, sable locks floated on the surface of the water, drifting about his chest.

“There is soap and a cloth in my qiankum pouch,” he instructed, inclining his head toward his clothing folded neatly upon a rock nearby.

Gael looked down and, realizing for the first time that Nātha was naked, blushed furiously. Even as he did so, he wondered why. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen plenty of naked men during his years as a soldier. Further, all he could see was the monk’s bare torso (and tiny, pert nipples); everything below his waist was concealed beneath the shimmering water.

Clearing his throat, he squatted down and picked up the strange pouch. When he fished around inside, his eyes went wide with wonder. His fingers touched a myriad of items–some quite large–far more should ever have been able to fit inside such a tiny pouch!

“What–? How–?” he sputtered, extracting a jeweled soap box and a cotton cloth. When Nātha regarded him through half-closed eyes, Gael pursed his lips. “And you’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“No. Now wash me.”

“Wash you?” Gael repeated, suddenly embarrassed again. “You mean–?”

“Yes.”

To Gael’s complete confusion, he found himself dropping the robe from around his shoulders and entering the pool to sit beside Nātha. The water was bracing at first but it felt good on his aching flesh. A thrill ran up his spine when his naked thigh pressed against Nātha’s naked thigh. And then Nātha’s arm was around his shoulders and he was pulling him in close. Gael swallowed. He couldn’t get used to the way that Nātha was staring at him; the young man’s eyes never left his body. Gael realized then that Nātha was doing what he himself had been doing to him since, well, since he’d first laid eyes on him: Memorizing every detail.

“You can remove your bandages now.”

The mere sound of Nātha’s deep voice sent shivers of delight through his body. Gael shifted closer to him, not resisting when Nātha reached down into the water and plucked at the bandages around his penis and testicles. His fingers moved with precision and tenderness. Gael moaned slightly when those long fingers caressed his manhood and the bandages pulled away. He flushed, feeling himself become erect.

He turned and found Nātha’s lips waiting for him.

They kissed, Nātha taking charge and using his tongue to teach the befuddled Gael tricks he’d never imagined. Nātha’s big hands were on him, urging him onto his lap. Gael obliged, turning around to fold his big, hairy legs around the monk’s lithe waist. Nātha playfully tweaked his big nipples, causing Gael to gasp, and then he took the back of his head in his hands.

They kissed.

And kissed.

Nātha tongue and hands were doing things that caused Gael’s vision to explode with starbursts and he was so fiercely erect that the head of his thick cock was protruding from the water. His long, dark foreskin peeled back to reveal the tender pink skin of his glans. His big balls contracted and he arched his back, getting ready to shoot.

Nātha, however, was not in any particular hurry and seemed perfectly content simply to kiss and caress Gael’s ardently aroused body. When Gael couldn’t stand it any longer and exploded in a violent and euphoric orgasm, Nātha held him by the hips, cupping his sizable buttocks. He kissed him, staring into his eyes with an expression of pure love and devotion.

When Gael’s cock had finally stopped spasming, Nātha whisked the white trails of his spent seed away, watching the current carry them downstream. He embraced Gael, pulling him tightly against his muscular chest.

“My light,” he whispered in his ear. “My heart.”

***

Chapter 3

“I-I-I’ve never done that before,” Gael confessed. “I mean, sometimes Inigo will take me into his tent and he’ll, uh, do stuff to me. But that’s not the same thing, is it? That was just stuff that soldiers do for fun. What you and I just did…it feels different somehow. Have we sinned? Did we just do something evil? Men aren’t supposed to–well, you know…” (I’m babbling, he realized. I need to stop but I can’t! Something about Nātha’s stoicism made him want to fill the silence with words.)

He was sitting on the rocks above Nātha, the monk was still reclining in the pool with his head between Gael’s knees. Gael’s cock was throbbing again. Just the sight of Nātha’s smooth, flawless skin and burgeoning muscles was enough to get him going. Nātha lifted his chin, tilting his head to gaze back at him with those icy, amber-flecked eyes. He blinked slowly, a faint smile creasing his lips.

Gael flushed. “My balls are bigger. A lot bigger.” 

He didn’t know why he said this other than he was feeling self-conscious and confused by the unnatural feelings surging through him and his cock. Nātha sat up and turned so he could see between Gael’s legs. He smiled when he saw the immense pair of testicles pushing Gael’s beefy legs apart. His elegant eyebrows lifted.

“Why is the skin on my nuts so black?” Gael’s cheeks were now flaming under his beard. He reached down to cup his heavy balls in his hands. They were bigger than overly ripe apples. And his ball sack was unusually dark…as were the plethora of hair sprouting all over down there. It almost looked like fur!

Nātha lifted his dripping, rugged torso out of the water and turned toward him, creeping stealthily forward.  He put both hands on the rock over Gael’s legs and, eyes glowing, lowered his mouth onto his cock. Gael’s testicles spasmed and he threw back his head and moaned loudly. Inigo had never done…this…to him before! The thought that another man would suck on him down there had never entered his mind.

“UNGH!”

His seed erupted out of his throbbing cock, filling Nātha’s mouth to overflowing. The whitish, gooey liquid dribbled out of his lips, pooling around the hairy base of Gael’s stout cock. And then Nātha stunned him by licking it all up!

He wasn’t done yet, though.

Nātha urged Gael to lie down on his back with his knees up. Positioning his head between Gael’s legs, he gave his cock one last, fond suck before slowly lifting his mouth off. Lovingly, he caressed the circumference of Gael’s hefty balls with his tongue. Gael’s eyes went round when the monk worked his way downward, licking the crease between his legs.

“FUCK! OH, FUCK! WHAT’RE YOU DOING?”

His voice rang out through the valley, startling a flock of birds, when Nātha tongued his asshole. Gael’s cock rocketed to another violent erection and he felt his balls churn once again as he neared orgasm…simply from having his most intimate part licked.

His mind was spinning. He couldn’t remember ever being more scandalized or more turned on. Inigo had certainly never done this to him! The most his commander would do is thrust his cock between Gael’s legs and sometimes he’d let Gael jerk him off. They had never kissed. Never put their mouths on each other’s cocks. And they had certainly never licked…he shivered as Nātha’s tongue traced the folds of his moist pucker. Just like having a man suck his cock, Gael had never thought about someone licking his butthole!

Nātha kept licking, eventually succeeding in wedging his tongue inside Gael’s tight, tiny hole. Gael writhed on the rocks, throwing his head back and moaning vociferously. His fingers dug into the hard surface, seeking purchase. He lifted his generous buttocks off the rock and spread his knees, giving the monk easier access.

Just before he was about to shoot for the third time, Nātha stopped. Gael lifted his head in time to see the monk straighten and pull the rest of his body out of the pool. His eyes just about popped out of his head when he saw…

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?” he yelled. “IS THAT REALLY YOUR–?”

The poker-hot, throbbing cock jutting out from the monk’s smooth, nearly hairless pubes defied belief. It was the biggest cock that Gael had ever seen, except for the one on his stallion, Rocio. He had no idea that a man could have a penis that large. Or that beautiful.

Yes, it was true. Nātha possessed not only a very long, very thick penis; it was also incredibly elegant. Much like the rest of him. Long and curving upward, it pointed up toward the heavens. Widening greatly from the base, it resembled a club. His foreskin was reddish brown clung tightly to his magnificent glans, the breadth of which caused Gael’s mouth to drop open. That thing was almost as long as his forearm!

Nātha’s penis appeared even larger because of the slimness of his hips. His broad back tapered down to a narrow waist before growing wider and blockier again. His legs were long and shapely, the slightest movement of his muscles visible beneath his almond-gold skin. Gael had never seen a man’s body that was so perfectly proportioned. Everything about Nātha seemed designed for beauty, stealth and…pleasure.

“Legs up here.”

Gael held his breath as Nātha moved his legs onto his shoulders. At first he didn’t realize what the monk was doing. However, he figured it out pretty quickly once Nātha aimed his pulsating organ directly at–

“WHAT?! NO!” he complained, clenching his butthole and shrinking back on the rocks. “That doesn’t go in there!”

Undeterred, Nātha leaned down, pushing Gael’s bent legs downward between them until they were kissing. Gael gladly opened his mouth to Nātha’s tongue and their lips sealed, trading turns exploring each other. Gael was surprised his back and legs were so flexible; he had no trouble folding himself up to allow Nātha on top of him. When the monk reached down and retracted his foreskin, positioning his huge cockhead onto Gael’s quivering hole, though, he protested.

“No!” he cried. “It’s too big! It’ll hurt!”

In answer to this, Nātha merely pressed into him. Gael’s eyes widened and a moan escaped his lips. It felt so good! Fuck, it felt so good having Nātha’s penis pushing on him down there. His nubile pucker gaped slightly wider. Nātha took advantage of this invitation by thrusting down harder with his hips. Gael moaned louder. His hole! His precious little hole! It was opening…opening…opening…

Gael had no idea what Nātha had done to himself…down there…but his penis was not only huge but it was also really slippery. Gael felt himself give way as he invited the monk to penetrate him. He writhed, moaning ever louder, unconsciously relaxing. It just felt so good! He had no idea that so much intense pleasure was locked within such an unmentionable part of his anatomy!

“Nātha! Oh, fuck! Nātha!” he screamed as his asshole parted, expanding as it relaxed. Soon, the full immense girth of the man was inside him. Nātha poised, his penis knocking at the tightened door of Gael’s sphincter. Gael took a deep breath and exhaled, sighing in astonishment as this hidden gateway to paradise opened. A moment later, Nātha slid all the way in and Gael was hollering at the top of his lungs, driven to the point of insanity. He felt his body mold itself to Nātha’s thrusts and soon he could tell from the glazed, happy expression on the monk’s face that he was overwhelmed by the cascading pleasure of anal sex. Gael fit him like a glove and Nātha knew exactly how to pound him, finding a secret buzzer deep inside that Gael hadn’t known existed.

They came at the same time, Nātha spewing loads of hot semen that coated Gael’s insides to overflowing. The monk grabbed Gael around the shoulders and hugged him tightly. Gael’s folded legs were trapped between them, the angle between his thighs and belly disappearing almost entirely. He felt like he’d merged with the monk’s body and Nātha was intimately part of him forever.

He never wanted it to end.

“It’s done. You will remember now.”

Gael’s eyes fluttered open to find Nātha staring intently at him. “What’s done?” he asked before he suddenly realized that he knew. “What will I remember?” Then, “Who are you?”

Nātha’s amber-flecked eyes kindled with warmth. “You know.”

The incredible thing was that he did.

***

Chapter 4: 500 Years Prior…

Location: Somewhere near Emerald Mountain in the heart of the Tang Dynasty Empire

Lady Mo bowed deeply to Nātha before rising and settling upon the small, raised dais. “Your Holiness,” she said. “You do us great honor. We did not expect the 32nd Avalokiteśvara to grace our humble estate.” She paused, narrowing her eyes slightly. “But I thought the Avalokiteśvara was the Bodhisattva of Compassion. When did you take on the task of hunting demons?”

Nātha was kneeling before her, a steaming cup of tea set before him on a low table. It was a warm day and sweat trickled down his back. His long hair was damp with sweat. He pushed this discomfort away, though, and focused on the task at hand. Something was stalking the halls of this deceptively beautiful estate and he intended to find out what it was. Around him were his disciples, ranging in age from fifteen to more than fifty years old. They wore the requisite white robes of the monks of Emerald Mountain which were quite hot on a day like today. Before them were arrayed a regiment of Lady and Lord Mo’s personal guard. They clustered around the lady, one step down on the platform. Lord Mo had as yet to make his grand entrance.

Nātha inclined his head before speaking and, in doing so, caught the eye of one of the young guardsmen. His icy amber eyes flicked over to the youth, taking note of his stout physique and pleasing countenance. The young man looked hurriedly away when he realized Nātha had noticed his attention. Nātha smiled.

“My Lady Mo,” he began in his resonant baritone. “It is the mission of all bodhisattvas to restore harmony wherever disharmony exists. I have spent the last thirty two of my human lifetimes in the service to this goal; this lifetime is no different.”

“I see.” Lady Mo seemed unconvinced. A middle-aged woman with a high forehead, chestnut eyes and a tight mouth, she seemed inclined to press him further but her husband and son, Lord Mo Feng and Lord Mo Lifeng had just arrived in the airy pavilion. The lady rose from her throne and bowed to them.

Out of respect, Nātha rose as well. In doing so, he received several surprised stares when the Mo retinue noticed that the left sleeve of his robe had been shortened. He heard someone whisper, ‘So, he’s a cut-sleeve?’ They sounded scandalized. Nātha ignored them. As the incarnation of the Avalokiteśvara, he could afford to display his sexual predilections openly. After all, what would they do? Kill him? He laughed to himself. He’d already died and been reborn more times than he could count. Looking over to the side, he was pleased to see the young guardsmen’s eyebrows lift as he saw Nātha’s sleeve.

Lord Mo Senior and Lord Mo Junior were too self-important to pay any attention to the length of his sleeves. Nātha studied the pair. Mo Senior was, like his wife, middle-aged and rather round about the middle. His face was flat and his eyes somewhat shifty. He gazed at Nātha with barely concealed derision; Nātha recalled that the Mo’s were not very generous in their annual offerings to the monastery…just as the tea they had served as part of the welcoming ceremony was decidedly not top-shelf.

The son, Mo Junior, was taller than his father and possessed a graceful figure. His robe was cinched tightly around his waist, showing off his lithe physique. He spared no expense in his attire, being clad in embroidered silks that must have cost a fortune. Nātha could only see the top of his face from behind the lacquered fan that the boy kept raised before him. His eyes were grayish green and sparkled when they landed on the young soldier whom Nātha himself had just been admiring. So, Nātha thought, the Mo Junior has good taste in men just like me! He hadn’t expected to find another cut-sleeve here.

After the introductions, Lords Senior and Junior took their seats on the dais flanking Lady Mo. Nātha bowed a final time before lifting his head (and noticing that the young guard had been staring at him once again.) “My Lords,” he said, “tell me when you first noticed the trouble.”

Lord Mo cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice was quite bombastic and Nātha had to school his features to keep from rolling his eyes. “It was well nigh three months ago,” he began, standing up and gesturing theatrically, “when we discovered the first victim: A cow had been butchered!”

“Forgive me, my lord,” Nātha interjected. “Is it unusual for cows to be butchered around here?”

This was met with muffled snickering and Lord Mo scowled. “It wasn’t butchered by a person, you idiot,” he huffed. “It had been butchered by a monstrous beast. We found its corpse torn apart in the field.”

“Are you certain that it wasn’t wolves?” Nātha pressed. “They are known to hunt around here.”

“IT WASN’T A WOLF!” Lord Mo shouted, half-standing in his outrage. “IT WAS A MONSTER!”

Nātha remained unruffled. “How do you know?”

Lady Mo placed a calming hand on Lord Mo’s shoulder, preventing him from launching himself off the stage to strangle Nātha. After some moments of puffing vigorously, he managed to regain his composure. “The monster that killed the cow,” he said between clenched teeth, “left large footprints behind. The prints were clawed and the size of a platter. I have hunted wolves and never seen one that large.” Giving Nātha a challenging glare, he concluded, “It was a monster. There is no doubt.”

“Hmmm, possibly.” Nātha scratched his chin. “What else can you tell me? I’m assuming that more than just one cow has been killed.”

“You assume correctly,” Lord Mo stated somewhat coldly. “A month after the cow, we lost three horses. They were killed the same way. Last month, it was five dogs. And,” he lifted a hand in the air, “two days ago, we lost three pigs. Also torn apart.”

“Can I see the bodies?” Nātha asked, gazing up at him impassively.

“Of the pigs?” Lord Mo seemed baffled by the question. “We buried them. You’re welcome to dig them up if you wish. My guards will show you where.”

“How about footprints? Did the beast leave any behind that I might see?”

Lord Mo waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t know. I didn’t realize they were important. You might be able to find some if you look around. I will give you and your disciples free rein to explore.”

Nātha inclined his head. “Thank you, my lord.” His show of gratitude seemed to placate Lord Mo; his demeanor had grown progressively calmer as the interview progressed. “Is this all?” Natha continued. “Have any people been harmed?”

“Yes.” Lord Mo admitted unhappily. “I wouldn’t have bothered seeking the aid of cultivators if it was just some farm animals.” He paused as if deciding how much to reveal. At the urging of his wife, though, he sighed, continuing, “We thought it was a simple ghoul or maybe a restless corpse until our maid’s baby was discovered in his cradle three mornings ago. The poor thing had been sucked dry!”

This was met with gasps of horror for the assembled crowd. As the meeting drew on, more and more people from the Mo estate had gathered to watch the proceedings. They were thronged around the elegant, carved doorways, staring in from outside. Clearly, this was the first time many of them had heard of the infant’s death.

Nātha’s eyebrows drew together. “You say it had been sucked dry? Do you mean that something had drained it of its blood?”

Lord Mo nodded unhappily. “Yes, yes! That’s exactly what I mean.”

Nātha’s eyebrows drew together. “May I see the baby’s body?”

“Of course not!” Lord Mo exclaimed, aghast at the question. “We burned it as soon as we could! We didn’t want the thing coming back to life, possessed by a demon’s spirit!”

“And yet you didn’t burn the bodies of the animals,” Nātha observed. “If you believe the baby might come back to life, why not take the same precaution with them?”

“Believe me,” Lord Mo replied, steely-eyed. “If you had seen the bodies of the animals, you would know there is no way they could possibly have ever come back to life. They were ripped to shreds!”

“I see.”

“Well?” Lord Mo demanded, leaning forward on his wooden throne. “Can you tell me what’s going on around here? What sort of creature are we dealing with?”

“I don’t know–”

“Then why are you wasting my time?” Lord Mo interrupted. Turning to Lady Mo, he hissed, “I told you this was useless! We’re better off hiring local cultivators, not some cut-sleeve monk from Emerald Mountain!”

Lady Mo looked like she wanted to agree but instead leaned over and whispered something in Lord Mo’s ear that caused the man to turn pale. When he looked back to Nātha, he seemed shaken.

“As I was saying,” Nātha resumed smoothly. “I don’t know yet but I’m sure I can find out. And I assure you that I will take care of whatever it is. For a donation, of course.”

“Of course.” Lord Mo looked like he was swallowing bile. His ashen face, however, told Nātha that whatever Lady Mo had just whispered had unsettled him so deeply that he was unlikely to haggle.

Nātha looked around. “Is this everyone in the family? Is anyone missing?”

“Only our daughter-in-law, Mei,” Lady Mo answered. “She has a…delicate condition…being six months with child. She is resting at the moment.” She turned to her son, searching his face for affirmation and he shrugged imperceptibly. He was, Nātha could see, much more interested in the ‘delicate condition’ of the very nubile young guard standing nearby.

“I will need to see her,” Nātha informed them. “Before nightfall. Can that be arranged?”

***

Nātha and his disciples stood and bowed to the Mo family when they rose to depart. He was eager to take a look around the Mo estate now that he’d been granted permission. His heightened senses had picked up numerous omissions and half-truths during his interview with the Mo family and he wanted to see things with his own eyes. Rising soundlessly, he was about to give the order to his disciples to depart when the young guard he’d noticed earlier approached.

“Your Holiness,” he said, bowing deeply. “May I show you where we buried the remains of the pigs?”

Before Nātha could reply, however, the captain barked at the boy, “Li Bai! What are you doing? We have work to do! Mo Lifeng has requested that you attend to him in his private chambers.”

A haunted expression passed across the young man’s face before he caught himself and schooled his features. He glanced up at Nātha, though, beseeching him with his eyes.

“Commander,” Nātha said, turning to the captain. “I know it’s an imposition but I really could use this man’s assistance. May I borrow him? I promise to have him back before long.” The captain started to refuse but Nātha didn’t wait for his reply. Instead, he lifted Li Bai off the floor and, bowing in farewell, whisked him out of the pavilion.

He led his disciples over into the shaded courtyard outside the pavilion, Li Bai standing somewhat breathlessly by his side. Turning to the monks, he asked, “Tell me, what do you think we’re dealing with here?”

One of the disciples, a young woman by the name of Ming Hua, raised her hand. “I think this is related to the murders we’ve heard about in the surrounding areas. They, too, report that the corpses have been drained of blood.”

Nātha nodded. “Good. Yes, I agree. What about the animals?”

There was silence for a moment. Finally, Ming Hua offered, “A different monster, if it is a monster at all. I suspect it is a pack of wolves like you suggested, Master.”

“It’s possible.” Nātha noticed the young guard shifting nervously beside him. Clearly, the boy did not agree with Ming Hua. Turning to him, he asked, “What do you think, Li Bai? Was it a wolf or something else that killed the animals.”

Not daring to look him in the eye, Li Bai offered, “I-I-I don’t think it was wolves, Your Holiness. I think I know what it is.”

Nātha found the young man’s hesitancy and soft, gentle features quite fetching and he hung on his every word. When Li Bai lifted his gaze and tentatively met Nātha’s eyes, his heart melted. The boy’s green-brown eyes were mesmerizing. Even more alluring, the boy’s scent was both pungent and musky, a mixture of civet oil and pine. Nātha found it arousing and titillating. So sweet, so delicate, so…delicious. He felt his cock throb to life and had to resist the urge to kiss the boy right then and there.

Perhaps sensing Nātha’s growing desire, Li Bai grew more confident and straightened, squaring his broad shoulders. He was a tall boy, perhaps eighteen years old and possessing incredibly robust thighs and a very shapely pair of buttocks. (Nātha had already admired these features through the clinging fabric of the boy’s uniform as he’d guided Li Bai out of the pavilion.)

“And what do you think is killing the animals?” Nātha prompted when the sexually-charged silence stretched between them. Was it his imagination or was there a growing bulge in the front of Li Bai’s leggings? “Tell us.”

Li Bai swallowed, his big Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “I think it’s a lycanthrope.”

This was met with confusion from the disciples because many of them had no idea what a lycanthrope was. Nātha held up his hand and they fell silent. Smiling at Li Bai, he said, “It’s possible, although I have only met a true lycanthrope once in all of my lifetimes. They are quite rare.” When Li Bai’s shoulders fell, he hastily added, “But it could definitely be something similar. Come, let us find out for sure.”

Li Bai assumed that he meant that he wanted him to show them where the pigs had been buried but Nātha stopped him with a hand on his muscular shoulder. “No, I have a better, more definitive way. Follow me.”

***

He led the group into the forest above the Mo estate. These were the foothills of the same range as Emerald Mountain and he knew it well. The hills were thickly wooded such that barely any sunlight reached the forest floor. Once they entered the forest, the air temperature cooled considerably and a soothing breeze sifted down from above. Nātha breathed a sigh of relief. Under an agreement between the monastery and the Emperor, no one was allowed to hunt or harvest timber from the area and very few people dared to venture far inside. 

Finding a small clearing, Nātha settled down on the grass and instructed his disciples and Li Bai to do the same. Sitting cross-legged in a circle, the monks commenced meditating while Nātha extracted a small incense burner from a pouch at his side and lit a stick. The air soon filled with a rich, pungent aroma. Beside him, Li Bai sat awkwardly; it was clear the boy was not accustomed to meditating.

Nātha smiled reassuringly and then closed his eyes, easily drifting into a deep trancelike state. When his mind was clear, he lifted his head and howled. Li Bai jumped, startled, at the sound but the disciples didn’t budge; they were well accustomed to their master’s idiosyncrasies by now.

Minutes later, they arrived with barely a sound. 

One moment, the group of monks was surrounded by shadows and the next a host of wolves wove into and out of the forest around them. The beasts held back, slinking into the shadows and baring their teeth. Their eyes were slits of glowing yellow in the near darkness.

“My Lord Nātha.”

Beside him, Li Bai jerked in fear at the sound of the deep voice and let out a little cry. Nātha opened his eyes in time to watch the pack leader smoothly transform from an immense, black wolf into a naked man of towering stature. He was incredibly muscular and also quite hairy; black fur covered his chest, buttocks and legs. His beard was smartly trimmed but quite dense. Nātha kind of envied him; he couldn’t grow a beard if his life depended on it.

A glance from Nātha and his disciples remained seated, continuing their meditation. He gestured for Li Bai to stand and accompany him as he approached the naked man. The boy acted like he wanted to bolt at first but then gathered his courage and joined him.

“My Lord Láng,” Nātha said, bowing deeply to the wolf-man. “I trust you are well?”

Láng’s lip curled into a snarl and he brazenly reached down to scratch his balls (which were incredibly big and hairy, hanging down nearly to his knees.) His penis, Nātha noted with interest, was more like a dog’s than a human’s and was currently concealed in a furry sheath…a very large, furry sheath. Noting the target of Nātha’s stare, Láng smirked. “Cut the crap, Cut-Sleeve, and tell me why you called us here. It wasn’t so you could ogle my big, fat cock.”

“I’m curious,” Nātha began, looking out of the corner of his eye at Li Bai. “My young friend here thinks one of your kind has been hunting down on the Mo estate. Is this true?”

Láng’s posture never changed but even so Nātha could sense his surprise. While he waited for the lord of the wolves to reply, he cast his gaze upon Láng’s pack members. Like their alpha, they had shifted to human form and stood naked in a ragged circle around the meditating monks. Their musky smell was almost overpowering but it wasn’t unpleasant. Quite the contrary! Nātha found it quite stimulating. He inhaled deeply, realizing the scent seemed oddly familiar.

Láng was by far the largest of the wolf-people but the rest of his pack was nearly as imposing. Like their leader, the men were covered in thick pelts of fur that nonetheless did nothing to conceal their oversized genitalia. The women were somewhat less furry and muscular but they were still very fit and quite formidable. Their fur ranged in color from pale white to deep black.

“Well?” Nātha prompted when Láng didn’t answer. “You wouldn’t know anything about this, would you?”

Láng shifted, tilting his head slightly to look at one of the gray-furred wolf-men nearby. “My Lord Nātha,” he rumbled, his deep voice still holding the hint of a snarl. “We have not broken our treaty with you. We hunt only on these mountains.”

Nātha stood still, assessing. Finally, he said, “I believe you.” Láng visibly relaxed with these words as did the rest of his pack. “I would hate to go to war again with your clan. It’s been a thousand years but I remember it like yesterday.”

Láng nodded. “We do as well, my lord. We have not broken our word.” As he said this, he glanced again at the young wolf-man behind him. Nātha followed his gaze and noted that the gray-furred man was staring fixedly at Li Bai. Even more telling, the bright pink tip of his shiny penis had begun to peek out of its furry sheath. As Nātha watched, the man licked his sharp fangs. Li Bai, however, seemed completely oblivious to his attention because, Nātha realized with a start, the boy was too busy staring adoringly at him. For some reason, this made him flush.

Láng lifted his nose and sniffed the air, giving Nātha a wry smile as he did so. “Tell me, my lord. What does your Buddha say about the sin of lust?”

Nātha cleared his throat, his long cock throbbing between his legs. “I never claimed to have reached enlightenment, Láng. I’m a bodhisattva, remember? We purposely turn our backs on Nirvana until all beings have been enlightened. Maybe by then I will have worked through my attachment to desire?” Láng snorted with laughter at this. Even some of the disciples snickered. Nātha ignored them, instead asking, “Even though I believe you, what’s to say one of your pack hasn’t acted the lone wolf and broken the treaty?” He turned meaningfully to the young wolf-man standing behind Láng as he said this. “Are you willing to vouch for them?”

“I am,” Láng said without hesitation. “And if you ever discover that I’ve lied,” he added, “then I promise to submit to you…fully.” As he said this, he turned around and bent over, presenting his furry buttocks to Nātha. Nātha’s eyes widened when the huge wolf-man reached back to pull apart his hefty ass cheeks. His incongruously pink pucker winked back at him.

Nātha’s cock spasmed and Li Bai flushed bright crimson at the sight. Láng merely grinned wolfishly, looking back at them between his outspread legs. Nātha had to admit that the pack leader’s meaty backside was the stuff of legend and half hoped that Láng was indeed lying. He wouldn’t mind taking him up on his offer!

Nodding to Láng, he turned to leave but, before he took two steps, the wolf-man called out to him. “Lord Nātha! Have a care! Just because we haven’t broken the truce doesn’t mean other demons have not. Watch your back tonight!”

Nātha stopped. Looking back over his shoulder, he smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Lord Láng. I appreciate the warning.”

***

“I don’t understand,” Li Bai was saying as they made their way out of the forest. “Why didn’t you kill them? Isn’t it your duty to kill demons?” He looked down at Nātha’s sword as he said this. The sword, called Harmony, glowed white-black in the half light of the wood. “Surely, that blade could easily have done them in.”

Nātha patted Harmony fondly. “It’s true that Harmony is a powerful sword with a soul of its own but it never kills without provocation. Its strength, like mine, comes from yielding.”

“What?” Li Bai sputtered, taken aback. “Then what good is it? You should sell it and get a proper demon-killing sword.”

Nātha regarded him with a small smile. “And would that be the most compassionate thing? Kill all demons, even when unprovoked?”

Li Bai thought about this, answering finally, “I suppose so, yes.”

Nātha turned to his disciples. “What about you? Do you think I should have killed the wolf demons?” He held up his hand forestalling their answers for a moment. “Before you answer, though, remember what I’ve taught you. What have I told you about demons?”

Ming Hua stopped in the trail and the rest of the disciples drew to a halt beside her. “You taught us that everything deserves mercy, even the most malevolent beings.”

“Exactly.”

“But what if those wolf demons killed the animals?” Li Bai persisted. “And what if they killed the baby, too?”

Nātha lifted an eyebrow. “They might have killed the animals but I doubt it. And I am positive they didn’t kill the baby. I agree with Ming Hua on that: The baby’s murder is too similar to the other murders nearby.”

“Who–or what–did it then?” Li Bai put his hands on his hips, standing very close to Nātha. His rich scent filled his nostrils as he did so and Nātha’s cock plumped up again.

“I have a theory about both,” Nātha said, trying to ignore his throbbing member. He wanted badly to rip the boy’s clothes off and fuck him senseless in front of his disciples. Taking a few breaths, he calmed his racing pulse; the boy’s ass could wait until later. “But I need to search for more clues. First, we need to investigate the estate and then I need to interview Lady Mei.” He paused, placing a firm hand on Li Bai’s shoulder and squeezing. “Would you mind accompanying us while I do so? I promise that we’ll be free to…amuse ourselves…by evening.”

***

They discovered the bodies of the cultivators in a small shed on the edge of the estate. It was guarded by two burly men who attempted to block their entry until Nātha reminded them that Lord and Lady Mo had given them full access to all their lands. The men debated what to do, gripping their swords menacingly, until one took off for the main hall to notify the Mo family and the other reluctantly stepped aside to allow them entry.

Ducking his head, Nātha walked into the shed first. There were two bodies hidden under gray shrouds, lying atop what appeared to be a butcher’s block. Dark, demonic energy permeated the atmosphere inside, making the air barely breathable. He thought he could see the curling fumes of black smoke seething out from beneath the rough blankets.

“Hmmm, what do we have here?” He looked over questioningly to the guard, discovering that the man’s face had gone quite pale. A moment later the man bolted and soon Nātha could hear him retching up his dinner outside the shed. Standing at his elbow, Li Bai was less fearful, although he did reach out and take hold of Nātha’s hand, squeezing it like a small child in need of comfort. This only served to endear the boy more to him.

His disciples filed in, covering their noses with their robes to dull the noxious odor of death…and something else. Something worse.

Undeterred by either fear or odor, Nātha reached out and plucked the shroud off the face of the nearest corpse. Everyone (except him) shrank back in horror as he did so.

The face of the person had been sucked completely dry, leaving only a husk in its place. The corpse’s skin was not only drained of blood, it was also drained of color and appeared completely gray and lifeless. It looked like a skull covered by desiccated skin, which, Nātha supposed, was exactly what it was.

He leaned in closer to examine the corpse even as his disciples and Li Bai were hanging back, trying to get as far away from it as possible. The odor was truly horrible, the rot of decay mixing with something like burnt sulfur.

“Very interesting,” Nātha pronounced, eyes memorizing every sordid detail. “Hmmm, it’s been years since I’ve seen anything like this.” He looked back at Ming Hua. “Tell me, A-Hua, who is this? I’m sure you can figure it out.”

Ming Hua lowered her robe from her nose long enough to guess, “One of the cultivators the Mo family hired before us?”

Nātha grinned. “Excellent! Perfect! Yes, you’re exactly right!” Ming Hua gave him a half-hearted smile at the praise before replacing the robe over her nose. Li Bai’s eyes were round and he looked like he wanted to throw up. Nātha looked back to the corpse and started to say, “Now, who can tell–?” when the most surprising thing happened.

The corpse’s papery eyelids fluttered open, revealing a pair of deathless, coal-black eyes. As Nātha watched, astounded, the thing’s moldy lips cracked apart and a voice, dry as old bones, pleaded, “….help…me…help…me…”

The shed erupted in an uproar as everyone but Nātha fled in hysterics. He was left shaking his head at them as the corpse lifted a pallid, skeletal hand and snatched at his sleeve. As it did so, its mouth opened further, exposing a row of dagger-sharp teeth. Unfortunately for the corpse, the sleeve it reached for was the left one, the sleeve that Nātha had trimmed. Sometimes, Nātha reasoned, being a cut-sleeve had its benefits.

***

“Really!” Nātha scolded after he’d subdued the restless corpses and rounded up his disciples and the cowering Li Bai. They huddled miserably outside the shed. “What if it had grabbed me? I could be dead right now…for the 32nd time! Well, the 32nd time as a human at least–”

“But master,” one of the disciples interrupted, “why didn’t you warn us? You said you’ve seen…that thing…before. You could’ve told us it would come alive!” The other disciples nodded in agreement. None of them would look at him, though; they were too ashamed. 

Nātha watched them with crossed arms. After a while, he took pity and smiled. “You’re right, of course, but I wasn’t sure. And it turns out that it’s not what I expected. It’s something else entirely! Luck was definitely on our side today!”

“Luck?” Li Bai repeated. “How is that luck?”

Seeming to ignore the question, Nātha turned to the still-nauseous guard. “Why haven’t you burned those bodies yet?”

“We were going to!” the man insisted, clutching his stomach. “We was just waiting for them to finish building the cremation pyre when you got here.”

“I see.” Nātha smiled at the guard before turning back to Li Bai, answering, “That’s why we’re lucky. If we’d arrived just a little later, the bodies would have been burned and we never would have learned what killed them.”

“Are you going to tell us what it is?” Ming Hua pressed. “Because I have never seen a demon that can do something like that! To a pair of cultivators, no less!”

“I’ll tell you what it isn’t,” Nātha replied. “A vampire. If it had been a vampire, there’s no way that corpse would have come alive during the daytime.”

“So, what is it?” Li Bai had overcome his fear and was standing very close to Nātha once again. He was so close that Nātha could feel the warmth radiating from his robust, stocky body.

“The…husks…in there are nothing more than fierce corpses,” Nātha explained as if this were patently obvious. “But the creature that did that to them is called a skinwalker.”

“A what?”

“A skinwalker. They are exceedingly rare demons. It’s been at least eight hundred years since I encountered one.” Nātha paused to stroke his chin thoughtfully. “They’re very difficult to get rid of. Too much resentful energy. Plus, their reflexes are as fast as a vampire’s but they aren’t limited by a vampire’s weakness to sunlight. Yes, very difficult. Very difficult indeed.”

“What are we going to do then?” Li Bai’s voice was plaintive. When Nātha looked down, he discovered the boy was actually wringing his hands. “Can you kill it?”

Nātha narrowed his eyes. “I’m the Bodhisattva of Compassion. I do not kill.”

Li Bai’s beautiful, soft eyes grew round and his voice raised an octave as he whined, “But if you won’t kill it, it’s going to kill us!”

“I didn’t say that I wouldn’t take care of it,” Nātha explained. “I just said I wouldn’t kill it. Besides, you really can’t kill a demon anyway. The only thing you can do is free it from its resentment.”

“BUT HOW DO YOU DO THAT?” There were tears in Li Bai’s eyes now; Nātha always had a weakness for tears.

Putting both hands on the boy’s broad, bulging shoulders, he soothed, “Leave that to me. I need you for something else. Are you willing to help?” Li Bai nodded, wiping his runny nose. Nātha smiled. “Good. Now let’s pay a visit to Lady Mei. I suspect once we meet her, everything will become clear.”

***

Chapter 5

Contrary to Nātha’s hopes, the meeting with Lady Mei was fruitless. 

After the Mo family guards returned to the shed and carted off the subdued corpses for cremation, they escorted Nātha and his entourage to a private hall outside Mei’s residence. She turned out to be a young woman with a wan complexion and startlingly pale eyes. Her pregnant belly was rounded beneath her embroidered robes and she appeared weak, barely able to stand. Her maid had to hold onto her arm to keep her upright.

Bowing on the floor before her, Nātha raised his head and studied her. She was clearly not a skinwalker, not even under the influence of one as far as he could tell. He knew that sometimes skinwalkers would feed surreptitiously on their victims, rather than draining them completely. However, her wan pallor was obviously the result of her pregnancy and he had a clear view of the small of her neck which was the place skinwalkers pierced their victims. No, despite her present weakened state, he could tell she was a robust woman who would have no trouble with her pregnancy and who most certainly had not been fed upon.

Disappointed, he cut the meeting short and departed for the suite of guest rooms that the Mo family had prepared for them. The place was airy and open and more sumptuously decorated than he expected. He even had a private room with a large bathing basin and a comfortable-looking bed. He was accustomed to sleeping on the floor in a stone cell at Emerald Mountain so even a wooden-framed bed was a luxury for him.

He and his disciples arrived to find the servants hurrying to put the finishing touches on the rooms as if the decision to house them there had been made hastily. Nātha guessed the Mo family originally planned to have them sleep in a barn but Lord Mo had changed his mind after the incident with the fierce corpses. The lord was grateful that Nātha had politely refrained from confronting him over the fate of the hapless cultivators. Normally, concealing evidence of a cultivator’s murder would be reported to the Emperor but Nātha was content to let the matter slide. Lord Mo clearly wished to demonstrate his gratitude for this discretion.

“What are your orders, Master?”

Nātha looked up from studying the big wash basin in the center of his private room, his mind detailing all the things he’d like to do to Li Bai in it. Ming Hua stood expectantly before him. And, speaking of Li Bai, the young man was there, too. His cheeks were rosy and his face flushed as if he had been reading Nātha’s thoughts.

“Skinwalkers, like vampires, only hunt after dark,” he said. “We need to place protective amulets on every building here before sunset. After that, I want you and the rest of the disciples to stay in your rooms.” When Ming Hua protested, he held up his hand and, rummaging in the sleeve of his robe, produced a small bottle of oil. “Around nightfall, I will venture up into the hills, leaving a trail of spirit flags behind me as a lure. Once I am well away from people, I’ll use this oil on myself; it will attract the skinwalker to me. With luck, I’ll be able to take care of it.” He paused to shrug, adding, “If I can’t, then you will need to send for help from the Jade Temple in the morning. The head monk there is an expert at subduing demons and will surely succeed.”

“But what if it kills you?!” Ming Hua begged while Li Bai wrung his hands behind her. “We can’t lose you, Master!”

Nātha waved this off. “Pffft. Don’t worry about me. I’ve suffered worse deaths. Being sucked dry by a demon isn’t actually that unpleasant. Skinwalker venom has a soporific effect on its victims. I’ll barely feel a thing!”

Ming Hua and Li Bai looked stricken.

“This is really the best plan,” he soothed. “I’m the only one present who has the reflexes to deal with a skinwalker. The rest of you would be too slow.” He reached out and patted both of their cheeks. “Don’t worry! I’ll succeed. I know it!”

***

Sadly, it was already almost dark by the time that they placed the protective wards around the estate and he didn’t have time for some diverting fun with Li Bai. He placed his lips on the top of the boy’s forehead, patting the back of his head, and took his leave.

“Don’t wait up for me!” he said, chuckling softly at the boy’s pouty lower lip. “I probably won’t be back before dawn.” He motioned to the bed behind him. “Feel free to sleep in here tonight, if it’s alright with the commander. I’m sure it’s more comfortable than your usual pallet. And who knows? Maybe I’ll be back sooner than expected and we’ll still be able to have some fun?”

He waved off Li Bai’s complaints and headed out, placing his hands behind his back as he inspected the buildings on his way up to the forest. His disciples had done a good job; everyone on the estate could rest easily that night, safe from demons.

Pricking his thumb on his sword, Harmony, he squeezed out blood droplets, using them to trace characters on the spirit flags. He dropped the flags in a ragged line behind him, knowing that the skinwalker would find them irresistible. If the creature were within miles of here, it would be drawn to him.

The evening was lovely. A cool breeze blew down from the mountain and the last of the sun ray’s turned the trees golden. The path grew rocky as he ascended and great boulders were strewn across the ground by the time he reached the forest. He pricked up his ears when he heard the babbling of a small brook and followed the noise until he discovered the stream wending around the boulders.

He was in luck! The stream’s source was a warm pool. Delicate tendrils of steam rose off its surface when he crested the hill and gazed down upon it. Nātha smiled to himself, slipping off his robe and wading into the pleasantly warm water. The rocks were smooth and formed a natural bench. He laughed as he kicked back, resting his feet on a little rock before him. He wadded up his robe and placed it on the rock behind his head, stretching his neck out and preparing to take a nap.

“Might as well relax before the fight!” he murmured to himself, closing his eyes. The skinwalker, he knew, would not venture out until its powers were strongest and that would be after midnight.

About an hour later, he was awakened by the sound of someone–or something–approaching. He sat up, knowing that it couldn’t be the skinwalker yet. It was too early, plus he hadn’t rubbed himself with the attractant. There was no moon yet but the tree canopy overhead was broken up by the boulders and a little twilight still illuminated the western horizon. Even before he saw the person, though, he recognized his scent.

“Li Bai, you shouldn’t be out here. It’s too dangerous.”

The boy detached himself from the shadows. Wearing only a very brief and nearly transparent muslin loincloth, his stocky body with its pale skin was luminous in the gloom. Broad-shouldered and pleasantly beefy with a small belly protruding over the string of his loincloth, he looked absolutely delectable. Nātha’s eye lit up when the boy untied the loincloth and let it flutter to the ground: His penis was tiny and nubile, just the way he liked it. Who needs a big penis when you have such a soft, broad, meaty ass to fuck?

Li Bai stepped into the warm pool and waded over to him, boldly sitting down and straddling his lap with his thick legs. They were face to face. He lowered his head and kissed Nātha, murmuring, “You will protect me, won’t you?”

“Of course.” Nātha inclined his head downward, indicating Li Bai’s nakedness…and his own. “You do realize what we’re about to do, though, right?”

In answer, the youth fished between Nātha’s legs and extracted his rapidly-stiffening cock, stroking it fondly as it rose above the surface of the water between them. Li Bai swallowed when he realized how enormous it was. He looked a little freaked out. Nātha felt his buttocks clench on top of his legs. He reached back and squeezed them reassuringly.

“Don’t worry. I’m big but you’ve had bigger.”

Li Bai blinked, soft eyes lifting to his face. “But I’m a virgin!”

Nātha shook his head. “Virgins are tight and you, my boy, are very loose.” He laughed, urging the boy to sit up so he could cup his ample butt in his hands. He tickled his gaping asshole with his fingertips, causing Li Bai to moan. “No, someone’s been here before me. Someone with a very large penis. He’s wrecked your hole!”

There was that pout again. It was adorable when Li Bai thrust out his lower lip, his big eyes filled with vulnerability. “But it’s not true! I’m really a virgin! You’re the first man I’ve met who I want to…”

Nātha stopped him with a kiss. Their mouths came together and then Li Bai was folding himself against his chest, clutching him desperately in a tight hug. His mouth was hungry and he devoured Nātha like a skinwalker sucking its victims dry. It was the most fun Nātha had had in years because the celibacy rule was strictly enforced at the monastery.

While they kissed, he slipped his cock inside the youth’s ‘virgin’ chute. Li Bai’s ass lips parted and eagerly accepted him. He moaned as Nātha penetrated him but not from pain like a true virgin. No, the boy’s moan contained only pleasure in it. Even his sphincter opened wide, enveloping him with its soft heat. Yes, this was definitely not a virgin asshole he was fucking. The boy had been fucked many, many times before and knew how to handle a man-sized cock.

Li Bai rocked back and forth, undulating his hips and driving Nātha mad with passion. Their tongues were locked in mortal combat and the boy’s fingers dug painfully into his back. Nātha clapped both hands over the youth’s massive ass cheeks, pulling him forward and thrusting deeper and deeper. He came first, pumping load after load of pent-up monk semen into that vacuous tunnel. He didn’t wait for his orgasm to subside before he reached down and tickled Li Bai’s tiny penis with a fingertip. That irresistible button trembled preciously for a moment before semen erupted from the folds of his tight foreskin, coating Nātha’s finger. He lifted it to his mouth and licked it clean.

“You’re such a good boy!” Nātha praised and Li Bai flushed with pride. “Usually, it takes a week for me to stretch a new partner’s hole wide enough to take me.”

They kissed again, this time more tenderly. When they were done, Li Bai turned around and lay back against Nātha’s firm chest. Nātha wrapped his arms around the boy’s big, blocky pectorals and hugged him, nibbling on his neck. Li Bai giggled.

“Tell me,” the boy said after they had sat in silence for a time, the trickling of the water and light breeze in the treetops the only sounds. It was a peaceful night and quite dark by then. The full moon wouldn’t rise for a little while yet.

“Tell you what?”

“Why don’t you think Lady Mei is a skinwalker?”

Nātha sighed, letting his head fall back against the rock. “Her lips weren’t blue.”

“What?”

“Skinwalkers have blue lips. Everything else about them looks normal except their lips. Lady Mei’s lips were normal. They weren’t even painted.”

Li Bai exhaled softly, nuzzling his head against the nape of Nātha’s neck. “I know that skinwalkers suck people dry of blood but I really don’t know anything besides that? How do you fight them?”

“Remember, I don’t fight anything.” Nātha kissed the boy’s temple before continuing, “Skinwalkers are called that because they flay their hosts and then don their skins, wearing them to assume the person’s identity.”

Li Bai shivered. “That’s awful!”

“It is what it is,” Nātha said, shrugging. “They look like huge slugs when they exit their skins. Huge slugs with sucker-like mouths filled with rows of teeth. They also  have a long tongue they use to sting their victims. It’s lightning fast and almost impossible to evade.”

“H-H-How do you stop it?”

Nātha chuckled. “Having second thoughts about joining me out here tonight?” He reached over and picked up the little bottle of attractant, rolling it around in his hand. “It’s just about time for me to put this on. Are you sure you don’t want to head back to the estate now?”

“No!” Li Bai protested. “I’m not leaving.” He wiggled his big bottom on Nātha’s sleeping cock, causing it to stir. “I’m going to stay with you forever!”

“Hmmm, forever’s a long time, you know.” Nātha tweaked the boy’s nipples, making him writhe. “And I suspect someone might object if I took you away.”

“You mean Mo Lifeng?” Li Bai said, shuddering. “He’s creepy! He’s been trying to seduce me ever since I got here.”

“I wasn’t thinking of him,” Nātha murmured. “I had someone else in mind. Someone a bit…hairier.”

“What do you mean?”

Nātha answered with a question of his own. “How did you get this bite? It looks like the dog nearly took a chunk out of you.” He traced a large, angry scar on the boy’s left ass cheek that he’d discovered while they were fucking. The scar was relatively fresh; Nātha estimated the boy had been bitten only a few months ago.

There was a long pause before Li Bai finally answered, “It wasn’t a dog; it was a wolf.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, it attacked me on the way here from my village. I managed to fend it off, though. I thought it was going to kill me.”

Nātha nodded. “You must be skilled with the blade.”

“I am one of the best,” Li Bai boasted.

“Was the wolf alone or in a pack?”

Li Bai thought for a moment. “It was alone.”

Nātha was silent for a moment, looking toward the eastern horizon. “The moon will rise soon. I think it will be full tonight.” He leaned back and sighed, “You’re awfully hairy for a man your age. I like it.”

Li Bai seemed confused by these words. “You must be mistaken. I don’t have any hair at all on my body, except, you know, a little around my penis.”

“Hmmm.” Nātha kissed his ear, massaging his furry rump appreciatively. Li Bai whimpered at the touch. Nātha relished the moment, lulling the boy into a soporific haze before asking, “Tell me, A-Bai–”

“‘A-Bai’?” the boy repeated. “We must be on friendly terms now. I’m glad.”

“I just fucked you up the butt,” Nātha pointed out. “I’d say it doesn’t get much friendlier than that.” He laughed, slapping Li Bai’s ass playfully. “But tell me. Earlier you seemed to be familiar with lycanthropy. How is that? Have you encountered a werewolf before?”

“Yes, I have. I killed one with my own hands!”

Nātha’s eyes went wide. “You what? Oh, you must tell me the story! What happened?”

“A man in our village was a lycanthrope. It took us a while to figure it out but, you know, the same thing happened there as here. First, livestock went missing and we found their bodies torn apart in the forest. Then, it was a baby. When it killed a little girl, our village elders called a meeting to decide what to do.”

“Did you reach out to the local cultivation clan?” Nātha pressed. As he said this, he felt the coarse hairs growing out of the boy’s shoulders and back. They were growing quite rapidly, too; he could feel them lengthening with each passing second. Li Bai’s buttocked shifted on his lap and Nātha felt something long and fleshy–an as yet hairless tail, no doubt–push out from between his ass cheeks. He shivered when it moved downward, caressing the length of his penis.

Li Bai shook his head. “We didn’t have time to call for help.” He shifted, a low growl coming from deep in his chest when Nātha tweaked his nipples…nipples that were decidedly bigger than a few moments ago. The nipples were covered with coarse hair as well. “It was the day before the full moon and we had to act. The elders figured it must be a werewolf because the killings always happened around the time of the full moon. Just like here.” As he spoke, his voice grew deeper and more resonant.

“Hmmm, yes, just like here.” Nātha lowered his hand and Li Bai growled again when he grasped his throbbing penis. It was much, much larger now and quite sticky. Below, it was covered by a furry sheath. An immense pair of furry balls lolled on the boy’s lap, each one bigger than a pomegranate. “How did you catch the werewolf?”

Li Bai’s voice was now so guttural that it almost didn’t sound human. His body, too, was heavier and his weight was almost crushing Nātha. “Grrrr…they locked everyone in the temple that night and waited until the moon rose. When it did, the man transformed into a werewolf and we killed him. Grrrr…Ungh! It was simple.”

“Indeed? I always thought killing werewolves was difficult. You have to use silver weapons and cut out their hearts. And, of course, behead them and burn their bodies.”

A-Bai was panting heavily by this point. Dense fur covered most of his body and he weighed as much as a small bull, growing heavier all the time. His cock in Nātha’s hand was longer than his forearm, a slick, throbbing club that tapered down to a sharp tip. His claws dug into his thighs as he writhed on his lap, oblivious to his changing body. He was too distracted and aroused to notice…which, of course, had been Nātha’s plan all along.

“Grrrrrr, arrrrrgh! We…<pant> <pant> didn’t do…that. Grrrrrrrrrr…we just stabbed it with our swords. It–Ungh!–was…dead <pant> <pant> when we…Grrrrrrr…buried it.”

“Impressive! You’re such a talented young man. I knew you were special when I first met you.”

A-Bai lapped up this praise, turning his muzzle and extending his long tongue to lick Nātha’s face. At that moment, the first light of the full moon crept above the eastern hills and illuminated his lupine features. He scarcely looked human any longer. He now dwarfed Nātha, having grown taller by several feet and adding a couple hundred pounds of muscle. His legs were recurved like a dog’s and his hands were now paws with six-inch claws. Fangs filled his mouth and his eyes glowed yellow in the darkness.

Unperturbed, Nātha allowed his hands to explore the werewolf’s burgeoning body. He’d never been naked with a werewolf before and had to admit he liked the experience. If he didn’t know that Li Bai would go berzerk in a few minutes when the moon rose fully above the hills, he’d suggest they fuck again. Maybe this time, he’d let the monster top him? That would be an interesting experience!

But no, he had a job to do. He uncorked the little bottle and slathered some oil in his hands, reaching back to spread it liberally over his neck and back. The smell was pungent and Li Bai lifted his snout and sniffed the air, a rumbling growl building in his massive, furry chest.

“Li Bai…is that you?”

Nātha looked over at the sound of another man’s voice and gave a start when he saw Mo Lifeng emerge over the crest of the rocky hill. At that moment, the full moon’s light filled the glade, illuminating everything with the clarity of near daylight.

Nātha’s eyes widened when he saw that Mo Lifeng’s lips were blue. So, it’s you! he thought, remembering then that the young man had kept his mouth hidden behind a lacquered fan when Nātha first met him. He kicked himself for being so unobservant.

The skinwalker spotted him almost at the same moment and stood stock still, clearly surprised to find Li Bai transformed into a werewolf…a very aroused werewolf who had just been fucked up the ass by a horny Buddhist monk.

Several things happened at once then and even Nātha’s heightened senses had trouble sorting it all out. First, a whole host of skinwalkers fell from the treetops around them, landing soundlessly in a circle around Nātha and Li Bai. At the same moment, a blood-chilling howl burst forth from the forest, shattering the silence. It was soon joined by numerous other howls of varying pitch and intensity. A second later, a pack of wolves appeared, surrounding the unsuspecting skinwalkers. Finally, Li Bai completed his transformation into a russet-brown werewolf and leaped off Nātha’s lap, snarling and baring his long fangs at the skinwalkers. His back turned to the monk, Nātha had a clear view of the giant balls swinging between his powerful legs. As he stared, the creature’s long, furry tail lifted, exposing his freshly-fucked asshole. I did that! Nātha thought proudly. That was me!

The skinwalkers recovered quickly and, refusing to be distracted by the wolf pack, turned instead to Nātha. They wore human forms, appearing mostly like normal people. Divided roughly equally between males and females, they ranged in age from children to elderly adults. Nātha was quite taken aback because he’d only encountered lone skinwalkers before. Knowing them to be solitary hunters, it stunned him to discover they were working together in a coordinated attack.

With blinding speed, they shed their human skins. Their lips opened wide and their round, toothy mouths shot outward. Like a balloon pulled through a keyhole, their slimy, sluglike bodies followed. Behind them, their human skins sloughed off, paper thin and wrinkly. The hollow husks settled on the ground like deflated bladders, a rather grotesque reminder that this was all that was left of their former owners.

Soon, he and Li Bai were encircled by a dozen, giant, undulating slugs. The slugs’ maws gaped wide, even wider than Li Bai’s furry butthole, as their stingers prepared to shoot outward. Nātha knew that those stingers were aimed at his throat and, while he could certainly deflect three or four, even he wasn’t spiritually advanced enough to block a dozen stingers at once.

To put it plainly, he was fucked…right after one of the best fucks of his life.

Well, he thought with grim resignation, here comes death number thirty two and birth number thirty three!

Just as the skinwalkers were preparing to sting him in unison, a man called out, “For fuck’s sake, Nātha, use Harmony!”

Harmony? Oh, yes! Harmony!

With a flick of his wrist, he called his sword to him. Instantly, the blade unsheathed itself from its scabbard nearby and flew into his hand. He lifted it just as Li Bai leaped in front of the zapping stingers, blocking them with his body. They were only designed to penetrate the delicate skin of a human’s neck and not the tough hide of a werewolf; Li Bai was left unharmed. Of course, the werewolf couldn’t block all of them but he gained Nātha a critical millisecond of breathing room and it was enough for him to use the sword’s black edge to slice through the fabric of reality, opening an escape hatch into the spirit world. Without hesitation, he jumped out of the water and tumbled, completely naked, into the dark realm, leaving the melee behind.

***

Chapter 6

The spirit world was a twilit landscape of shifting, dark shadows. Each time he visited it, it was different and he could never quite figure it out. Sometimes, its appearance roughly correlated to the physical realm and sometimes it was wildly different.

Nātha had scarcely picked himself up from the murky ground and closed the portal with Harmony’s silver edge when a gruff voice rumbled in his ear, “You’re too slow, Cut-Sleeve.”

Smiling, Nātha turned to find Lord Láng standing beside him, yellow eyes glowing in the darkness. The shapeshifter must have managed to leap through the portal before he closed it. Láng had shed his lupine form and was more or less human and just as naked as he was. His black hair was shaggy and disheveled but otherwise he was unchanged from earlier. Nātha was surprised to see the shiny red tip of his big, slick penis peeking out of the furry sheath on his crotch (which was nearly at eye level because Láng was so tall.) Láng’s monstrous testicles dwarfed even Li Bai’s werewolf balls and swung heavily between his massive thighs, each one bigger than a melon.

Every time Nātha saw the wolf lord, he was taken aback. Láng was, quite simply, a giant…and a very handsome one at that! Standing nearly two feet taller than him, his broad shoulders were half again as wide as Nātha’s, which were quite broad in their own right. Nātha estimated that he weighed more than a full-grown bull with his powerful legs, burgeoning ass and a torso that was loaded with so many muscles he looked almost superhuman. On top of this, his hairy body exuded a potent, musky aroma that titillated Nātha’s nostrils. 

While he gazed up at the big wolf-man, Láng eyed him in return. Zeroing in on his crotch, his thick eyebrows lifted. “Huh? I didn’t expect you to be so big. I thought all you humans have tiny peckers.”

Nātha looked down at his thick cock–still more than half hard–swinging between his hairless but muscular thighs. “It gets bigger every time I’m reincarnated,” he said, shrugging. “If all  humans don’t attain enlightenment soon, it’ll be dragging on the ground within another hundred lifetimes.”

“Guess you’ll have to learn how to manage with an elephant trunk between your legs,” Láng commented wryly, “because humanity’s gonna need far longer than that!” As he said this, he moved around Nātha, studying every detail of his naked body. Nātha watched in fascination as the tip of the wolf-lord’s glistening pink penis pushed out further.

“You like what you see?” Nātha queried, wiggling his smooth bottom enticingly when the wolf lord moved behind him. “I didn’t take you for a cut-sleeve.”

“I’ve only seen you naked when you’re a baby,” Láng growled. “Never fully grown. I’m just curious.”

“Wait…when have you seen me as a baby?” Nātha put his hands on his hips. “I swear the last time we met was more than a century ago and I was fully grown at the time.”

Láng smiled, baring his fangs. “You are a human and I am a demon. You have such short lives! Even though you’ve lived many lifetimes, I’m far older and have yet to die even once.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Láng lifted his big shoulders; his immense penis had half-exited the sheath by then and was already longer and thicker than a stout log. 

When he realized that he wasn’t going to get an answer, Nātha changed the topic. “Aren’t you worried about your pack? A dozen skinwalkers is a lot to handle, even for a bunch of shapeshifters.”

Láng was unconcerned. “There’s a werewolf helping us. We’ll be fine.”

“Indeed?” Nātha was impressed. “You are full of surprises, my lord. First, you materialize out of nowhere to take on the skinwalkers before they can attack me and then you remind me to use Harmony. That’s very unusual for a demon. Most of your kind want me dead. If you don’t mind my asking, why are you helping me?”

“Someone needs to keep an eye on you,” the wolf lord replied gruffly, studying the shadowy ground at his huge feet. “You have a habit of getting into trouble.”

Nātha smiled. “Aw, careful or I might start thinking you like me!”

It was dark in the spirit realm but even so he could see the wolf lord’s furry cheeks flush. Láng cleared his throat and changed the subject, “Now that we’re here, what do you intend to do?”

“Hmmm, I have to ponder that. It’s a good thing that time moves differently here than in the physical world. There’s no particular rush.”

He looked around. Right then, the spirit realm was taking the form of a twilight wood with heavy mist swirling around the trunks of the huge, misshapen trees. It was roughly analogous to the forest in the physical world that they’d left behind, albeit grimmer and darker.

Turning to Láng (and trying not to drool over the beastman’s big, red cock), he asked, “Why do you think the skinwalkers are after me? Am I that special? It sure seems like I was their intended victim all along. Plus, I’ve never heard of them working together. This is very unexpected!”

Láng sighed, folding his huge arms. “For someone who has lived as many lives as you, you’re awfully dense. You know as well as I do that skinwalkers aren’t smart enough to come up with such a plan on their own.” He paused, smirking. “No, they’ve had help. Another, more powerful demon orchestrated this trap.”

“But why?” Nātha pressed. “What do they hope to gain?”

“Gods but you’re stupid!” Láng huffed. “Is it really that hard to understand? Think about it! If they can take control of your body, they can use your powers for their own benefit. You are a bodhisattva, Cut-Sleeve! Imagine what they could do!”

Nātha pinched his chin, lost in thought. Finally, he exclaimed, “Ah, yes! Yes! You’re right! It’s a perfect plan! The skinwalkers could feed off of me–blood stolen from a bodhisattva enhances the powers of skinwalkers exponentially–and the master demon could devour my soul, thereby taking control of my body. They’d be invincible!”

Láng clapped his hand to his forehead, shaking his head. “Brilliant. You’re absolutely fucking brilliant.”

Nātha ignored him. Clapping his hands together, he said brightly, “Now let’s find the demon behind all this, shall we? I would very much like to talk to him.”

He was about to execute a summoning spell when he heard a plaintive voice cry out, “Help, Master! Please help me!”

Nātha looked around, peering through the gloom. “Isn’t that Li Bai? Did that boy follow you through the portal? Oh, dear! I hope he’s alright!”

“No, I’m pretty sure–” Láng started to reply but Nātha had already sped off, running the general direction of the boy’s cries. The shapeshifter shook his great head and, reverting to his wolf form, loped after him.

They found Li Bai tied to the gnarled trunk of a tree, ringed by menacing figures that oozed a sickly black light. These were, Nātha knew, the form that skinwalkers took in the spirit world. The faint outlines of wolf demons could be seen as well, prowling around the circle of skinwalkers but their spiritual energy was more diffuse; they were little more than shadows.

“Hmmm. Two battles in two realms,” Nātha observed, halting a few paces outside the ring of shapeshifters. None of the demons appeared to be aware of him. “Your shapeshifters might yet be defeated, my lord Láng, if they were to prevail in the physical world but lose here.”

“We spend most of our time in your realm,” Láng replied. “It’s where we prefer to live because, um, well…you see, there’s more, um, game. You can’t blame us if we don’t come here very often.”

Nātha’s mouth lifted. “Oh, game, is it? Is that the reason, hmmm?” The wolf lord colored, looking away.

At that moment, Li Bai–who was fully human here, not even a trace of his werewolf aura was visible–saw Nātha and screamed, “Save me, Master! They’re gonna suck me dry!”

The boy was completely naked and more beautiful than ever. His body glowed with youthful vigor, moist and succulent and ripe for the fucking. Rounded out by a pleasing layer of padding, his bulky muscles gleamed with a sheen of sweat. His skin, apart from the few black hairs around the base of his penis, was completely smooth and satiny. His big, green-brown eyes stared imploringly at Nātha and his lower lip was quivering with fear. His tiny, baby-sized penis had all but disappeared inside the crease of his pubes, so frightened was the poor lad. 

Nātha didn’t think. He sprang into action, launching himself at the skinwalkers and drawing Harmony menacingly. He was so overwrought that he forgot his bodhisattva vow of nonviolence. All he cared about was saving his precious Li Bai!

Láng caught him by the shoulder before he took a single step. “Wait, Cut-Sleeve. Don’t let your surprisingly hefty cock do all the thinking for you. That’s not Li Bai.”

“What?! Of course it’s Li Bai!” Nātha protested. “Who else could it be?”

In answer, the shapeshifter grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him until his ears rang. “Would you stop being a fucking idiot and think for once?!” he yelled. “What did we just decide only moments ago?”

Nātha sucked on his lower lip which was bleeding from where he’d just bitten it. “Uh, I don’t remember. What did we decide?”

“Why do I bother?!” Láng cried, throwing up his hands in exasperation and gazing up toward the heavens. “What good is a fucking bodhisattva if he doesn’t think?” Looking back down at Nātha, he stated, “The demon behind this attack. Remember? We were going to try to find him.”

“Oh, yeah. Haha!”

Láng growled in frustration. His beautiful brown eyes were boring holes through him and he kept his clawed hands firmly on Nātha’s shoulders; the monk was effectively immobilized. “Don’t you think it’s a little too coincidental that Li Bai showed up just as we were going to look for the demon?”

“Hmm, maybe?”

“Nātha,” the wolf lord said between clenched teeth. “That isn’t fucking Li Bai; it’s a fucking desire demon!”

“A desire demon? But they’re–”

“Trust me. That is a fucking demon,” Láng interrupted, jerking his head over at the petrified Li Bai. “He is behind all of this. There is no other explanation.”

When Nātha waffled, Li Bai called out behind him. “I’m not a demon, Master! It’s me, Li Bai! Please help me! If you do, I’ll stay with you forever.”

Nātha looked over his shoulder at the youth. Li Bai was frantic–and utterly desirable–his face twisted in fear as he begged Nātha to intervene. His little belly jiggled up and down in the most alluring fashion and that wasn’t all that jiggled enticingly. Nātha was in the perfect position to glimpse the youth’s huge, ponderous buttocks as they swayed heavily back and forth. That big ass was practically dying to be fucked!

His big cock stiffened between his legs.

Láng moved between him and the boy, blocking his view. “Don’t listen to him!” he barked. “He’s fooling you! He’ll devour your spirit as soon as you get close enough.”

Nātha’s cock was fully erect by that point and sticking straight up. It was so long that it nearly reached the top of the wolf lord’s belly. Láng batted it away, though, causing Nātha to yelp in pain.

“Would you get control of yourself!” he shouted. “This isn’t the time!”

Tears were streaming down Li Bai’s cheeks and he sobbed, “Master! Please believe me! I’m yours and yours only! I’m your soulmate!”

For some reason, this had a profound effect on Lord Láng. Nātha watched in surprise as Láng drew himself up to his full height, his thick hair standing up like the hackles of a wolf. He whirled on Li Bai, howling, “SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH, DEMON! YOU’RE NOT HIS SOULMATE! I AM!

Silence.

Even the writhing, black forms of the skinwalkers halted as the air in the spirit realm grew deathly quiet. Li Bai’s eyes were round but not nearly as round as Nātha’s. Láng’s shoulders fell and he wouldn’t look at him when Nātha asked in a trembling voice, “Excuse me, Lord Láng, did you just say that you’re my…soulmate?”

When Láng turned to him, Nātha was shocked to see that his eyes were red-rimmed. “Yes, Cut-Sleeve,” he rumbled in anguish. “You and me are…joined…forever.”

“We are?”

Láng nodded solemnly, still avoiding his gaze. “Yes, since the day you were born in your first life.”

Nātha swallowed, mind reeling. How could he have a soulmate for all these centuries and not know it? And a demon, no less? It strained credulity. But something about Láng’s demeanor told him that the wolf lord wasn’t joking. He really believed that he was Nātha’s mate for all eternity. He reached up and placed a hand on Láng’s giant shoulder and squeezed. Láng lowered his head, tears streaming openly down his face.

“That’s how you…” Nātha began but stopped, shaking his head as he realized something important. “It’s you, isn’t it? Every time I’m reborn, you’re the one who leads the monks to find me.” 

Láng nodded, clenching his jaw. “I can always find you,” he murmured. “You are my light. My heart.”

The words hung in the air between them for a moment before their true heft and weight hit Nātha. When they did, his heart expanded in his chest and tears filled his eyes. Standing on his tiptoes, he took the huge wolf-man’s rugged face in his hands. “All these years,” he said in a hushed tone, “and you’ve never–”

“Would you have believed me?” Láng replied, still avoiding his gaze. “Would you have believed that a demon, especially a demon like me, could be your soulmate?” He laughed harshly, “I’m not stupid, monk! I know how arrogant you are. You believe that you were chosen as a bodhisattva simply based on your own merit? Well, you weren’t! You’re not that special. Really. You’re not. But, when your soul is combined with mine…”

“…when a human soul is joined with a demon’s,” Nātha continued, “the two together can overcome any obstacle.” He exhaled in wonder. “I always wondered why Gautama chose me, especially because I was so…well, horny compared to his other disciples. The rest of them had practiced for decades and I was just a–”

“Teenager?” Láng finished for him. “And a pretty dumb one at that.” He smiled, showing his fangs. “But you were awfully cute. I was really young then, too, and also very horny. You have no idea how hard it was for me to keep my paws off you. I stayed true to my pledge, though, and kept out of your sight. Until now.” He looked off the side, suddenly bashful.

“Awww, come here you!” Nātha said, holding out his arms to the giant shapeshifter. Tears were now running down his cheeks, too. “I owe you for looking after me. I owe you a lot.”

“That’s for sure,” Láng muttered, only hesitating a moment before reaching down and enfolding him a tight hug. His ridiculously muscular arms wrapped around Nātha, squeezing him until he cried out for mercy. And then the wolf lord kissed him, quite passionately, his long tongue forcing entry into the monk’s mouth. At the same time, his huge, slimy, poker-hot cock thrust up between Nātha’s pectorals and smashed against his chin, leaving a messy trail of goo. 

Nātha had never been happier.

***

They kissed for a long time, only drawing apart reluctantly when they heard a little squeaking sound behind them. Nātha turned and his eyebrows went up when he saw what had become of the desire demon.

“Whoa, what’s wrong with it?” he asked, shaking his head. “Is it sick?”

Láng sighed. “No, you dumb fuck, that’s what a desire demon looks like when it’s been transubstantiated. They don’t have a true form; they’re shapeshifters in a way, sort of like me.”

Nātha’s eyes narrowed. “So, you’re telling me that you’re a desire demon, too? How is this,” he gestured to the two of them, their arms entwined around each other’s waists, “any different than what–”

“I am not a desire demon and I have no intention of devouring your soul,” the wolf lord said, sounding hurt. “Shapeshifters are completely different! You know that. Plus, I’m far more powerful. That’s why the two of us together are unstoppable.”

“A mortal and a demon as soulmates?” Nātha mused. “Who would’ve thought?” He kissed Láng again before looking over his shoulder at the tiny black slug that was the remains of the desire demon. The slug was undulating across the trunk of the same tree that ‘Li Bai’ had been tied to. The skinwalkers still formed a ring around it but seemed confused now that it was neutralized. Without the demon to compel them, they were quite aimless.

Láng hugged him tighter and leaned down to wuffle his hair. Nātha laughed and was about to lift his lips when he was struck by a thought. “How did that desire demon turn into a slug, my lord wolf? We didn’t do anything.”

“Oh? You call this nothing?” Láng replied, pressing his ardently aroused body against Nātha. “I’m hurt.”

Nātha thought for a moment before inhaling sharply. “You mean–?”

Láng laughed. “Yes, you big idiot! Love is what neutralizes a desire demon. True love.”

***

Nātha used his sword’s silver edge to cut a hole back into the physical world. Bowing deeply before Láng, he motioned him through, saying, “Age before beauty, my lord.”

Láng growled in annoyance but nonetheless stooped down to fit his immense frame through the portal. Nātha followed, sealing the hole once again with Harmony’s black edge when he was on the other side.

They emerged to find the shapeshifters celebrating their victory over the skinwalkers. The dozen or so giant slugs cowered in the center of the clearing, surrounded by snarling wolves. Li Bai–still in werewolf form–was at the vanguard, snapping and lunging at the demons with his long, sharp teeth. He made a somewhat more impressive werewolf than he did a human. Nātha kind of preferred his boy form, though; it was infinitely more fuckable.

“Now that we have them at our mercy,” Láng asked Nātha, “what do we do? Kill them?”

Nātha laughed. “How many lifetimes have you known me, my lord? I swear you haven’t learned anything about bodhisattvas! We don’t kill. Ever. Not even by proxy.”

The wolf lord regarded him stonily. “Well, tell me what to do then! I’m not going to let them go free, if that’s what you’re implying. They’ll just continue preying upon innocent people.”

Nātha grinned. “I never thought I’d meet a shapeshifter who worried about human lives.” When Láng bristled, he added, “I’m beginning to think my compassion has rubbed off on you. But, seriously, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’ll give them exactly what they wanted all along: My blood.”

“YOUR WHAT?!” Láng was so outraged by the notion that he shifted halfway back to his wolf form. For a moment, he looked much like Li Bai as a werewolf, a black wolf’s head on a huge man’s body, complete with a bushy tail and huge paws. He caught himself, though, and reverted back again, demanding, “You will under no circumstances do that, Cut-Sleeve.”

Nātha winked coquettishly at him, teasing, “Nope. I’m gonna give ‘em my blood and you can’t stop me.” He placed a soothing hand on the wolf lord’s arm, adding, “Trust me. I know what I’m doing. Bodhisattva blood given freely is an elixir of untold power. Watch and see.”

Before Láng could stop him, he marched forward and, drawing Harmony, opened up a small slit on his forefinger. He then held out his bleeding digit to the nearest skinwalker, instructing, “Here. Have a taste.” When the creature swiveled its eyeless head and gaping mouth toward him, he warned, “But just a drop. More than that and you will die.”

Láng held his breath as the demon’s long, tapering tongue shot outward. Rather than stinging Nātha and draining him dry, though, it obediently lapped up a single drop of the monk’s blood. The creature’s bloated body instantly reformed into the precise shape of a flayed human. It was still as disgusting as all hell but also kind of mesmerizing. Even the shapeshifters paused to watch in disbelief as the flayed corpse executed a deep bow to the monk before stooping down to pick up its discarded human skin. 

A sudden slurping sound filled the air as the creature’s exposed sinews and pulsating underflesh were covered by soft, supple skin once again. Moments later, a young woman with long, black hair and glittering brown eyes stood in the monster’s place, gazing blankly at Nātha. Her lips were deep blue.

“You are fully human again,” Nātha pronounced, bowing to the young woman. “Go and live a good life.” With that, the former skinwalker bowed a final time and then left without a backward glance.

Nātha turned to the next giant slug. 

He performed the ritual over and over until only one skinwalker remained, the one that had possessed Mo Lifeng’s skin. It was kind of cute how his modesty returned once he donned the human skin. He flushed pink, covering his naked genitals with his hands. Nātha hadn’t realized that skinwalkers could feel embarrassment but, then again, Mo Lifeng was now more human than demon. 

“Here,” Nātha said, retrieving the young man’s embroidered robe and handing it to him. “Stay here with me until I’m done. We’ll go back to the Mo family residence together and I’ll explain everything to them. I can’t promise anything but they may take you back as their son.”

Accepting the clothing gratefully, Mo Lifend dressed hurriedly before bowing deeply and uttering a sincere, “Thank you, Your Holiness.”

Nātha smiled and patted him on the shoulder. He had a feeling the lad would be alright no matter how Lord and Lady Mo reacted to the news that their son had been devoured by a demon.

“Now,” he said, turning back to Láng. “What should we do about Li Bai? Do you want me to cure him, too? I think I can remove the werewolf curse with a little effort.”

Láng’s mouth was still hanging open after watching Nātha deal with the skinwalkers. Holding up his hand, he said, “We’ll figure that out in a minute. First, though, tell me what you just did? How was that possible? I thought skinwalkers could never go back to being human again.”

Nātha shook his head. “Incorrect. Like I said, the blood of a bodhisattva–offered freely–has incredible properties.” He took a step closer to the wolf lord, offering, “One lick and you, too, will be fully human. Shall I make you into a man?”

“What?! No!” Láng barked, jumping away from him as if Nātha’s finger were a poisoned dagger. “There’s no way I’d ever want to be mortal! Never!”

Nātha doubled over laughing, only pulling himself together after a very long time. Finally, he managed to gasp, “Don’t worry! I know what you’re thinking: What if I bite him when we’re making love and his blood turns me into a human? It doesn’t work that way. You would only become mortal if that’s what you wanted. You’re quite safe, my lord.” He waved his hands dismissively. “Go on and keep on doing whatever it is that you demons do.”

“‘Whatever we demons do,’ huh?” Láng growled, irritated at being made fun of. “What if I tell you that what we demons do is fuck unsuspecting bodhisattvas up the ass? What do you think about that?” He pulled himself up to his full height and loomed over Nātha.

“Tut tut,” Nātha said, wagging his finger. “I seem to remember that you owe me your ass, not the other way around.”

Láng blinked. “How so? I said you could fuck me if I lied to you and I didn’t.” He lifted his big, clawed hands innocently. “I’ve told you nothing but the truth!”

“That’s not true. You didn’t tell me about Li Bai and his, um, new friend.” 

Nātha’s eyes slid over to Li Bai. Nearby, the silver-furred wolf he remembered from his earlier meeting with the shapeshifters was there. He was watching Li Bai the Werewolf with googly eyes, his long tongue lolling out of his mouth. As Nātha stared, Li Bai noticed the wolf’s attention and proceeded to arch his back and lift his tail, offering his well-used hole to the beast. It was such a slatternly maneuver that even Láng flushed. The silver wolf, however, needed no further invitation and, shifting to a mostly human form, jumped onto the werewolf’s back and jammed his long, slimy cock into that eager butthole, giving Li Bai a proper fucking with a proper demon-sized cock. Li Bai’s roars of delight echoed through the forest.

Láng was at a loss for words, clearly imagining himself in Li Bai’s position with his virgin hole stretched out by Nātha’s big dick. Finally, he managed to stammer, “I-I-I, uh, I-I-I mean. Oh, fuck it! Alright! You can fuck me first. But,” he held a sharp claw in Nātha’s face, “Not now! I’m your soulmate, not some boy you seduce every time you’re horny. We don’t even really know each other yet. We need to spend time together.” He paused, yellow eyes flaring. “What I’m saying is that you need to woo me! Maybe after you’ve won me over, I’ll consent to letting you stick that big, ugly thing up my asshole.”

Nātha crossed his arms, mouth quirking. “I never had you pegged as a romantic, Láng.”

“I’m not romantic! It’s just going to take me a while to get used to being with you. I mean, don’t get me wrong! I already love you; I’ve loved you for centuries. But I’ve loved you from afar. I don’t know what it’s going to be like to be with you all the time. I need time. And wooing. Lots of wooing.”

“You want to…be with me all the time?” Nātha asked, eyes tearing up. “I-I-I don’t know what to say. Are you sure? Don’t you have duties as the lord of the wolves?”

Láng sighed. “My pack lives on the same mountain as you do, Cut-Sleeve. And, yes, I need to be with you. If for no other reason than to keep an eye on you. You’re still very undisciplined for someone who has lived so many lives. You let lust get the better of you too often and you don’t think. You need to grow up.”

Nātha grinned. “Don’t you think it’s kind of ironic that a demon wants to teach a bodhisattva self-restraint?” 

“Trust me,” Láng muttered, “if there’s one thing I’ve learned in the fourteen centuries bound to your soul, it’s how to deal with desire. Every day I struggle with it. It’s taught me how to persevere, how to be a better person.”

“You don’t need my blood,” Nātha observed, standing on his tiptoes to kiss his beloved wolf. “You’re already more than human. Buddha chose right when he picked you to look after me.”

***

“Master,” Li Bai informed Nātha sometime later when he was back in human form, “this is Lùzhū. He’s my new lover.” He looked away, unable to meet Nātha’s gaze. “And he’s gonna help me learn how to control my curse. I guess I didn’t kill that werewolf after all. He must’ve come back to life after we buried him and he hunted me down. It was that lycanthrope who bit me, not a wolf.”

Nātha gave him a hangdog grin. “Yes, just as I suspected. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, Li Bai. I only figured it out after we, uh, you know, in the pool last night.” He flushed, studiously avoiding Lùzhū’s gaze. He recovered quickly, though, and a moment later surveyed the silver wolf demon like a critical parent. Lùzhū lowered his great head bashfully before looking up again and fixing Nātha with his fiery yellow eyes. He grinned, long tongue lolling out of his mouth.

“Well, I suppose he’ll do,” Nātha huffed. “I hope you can make due with a man with such a paltry appendage. I fear I’ve ruined you for lesser cocks.” This was so patently ridiculous that everyone present laughed out loud. Both Nātha and Lùzhū were still quite naked and it was obvious who possessed the bigger endowment. 

Láng placed his big hand on Nātha’s shoulder and squeezed. Turning to Lùzhū, he asked, “Are you sure about this, A-Zhū? You really want to marry a werewolf? You know that shapeshifters mate for life.”

Lùzhū bowed deeply. “Yes, my lord. I will take good care of him.” 

Li Bai beamed giddily with these words but Láng was sober. “Forever’s a long time, Lùzhū. Li Bai’s still mortal even if he is a werewolf. This means that you’ll be bonded with him in every one of his lifetimes going forward. Are you prepared to do this?”

The silver wolf-man nodded. “I am. Li Bai is mine forever.”

“Oh, this is such happy news!” Nātha said, clapping his hands excitedly. Li Bai and Lùzhū hugged each other tightly and Lùzhū licked Li Bai’s exuberant face up and down with his long tongue. “Two demon-human pairings! What is the world coming to?”

Láng shook his head and looked away but not before Nātha caught him smiling.

***

In the end, Lord and Lady Mo accepted the demon that had devoured their son and formally adopted Lifeng. The decision was made out of practicality; the Mo family treasured its status as the lead clan in the region and didn’t want anything to besmirch their sterling reputation. Adopting the demon was the simplest way to avoid uncomfortable questions. Surprisingly, Mo Lifeng turned out to be a much kinder and lovable man than their biological son had ever been. So what if he liked to dabble with young men on occasion? They weren’t about to complain too loudly. He took good care of his wife and new child and that was all that mattered.

***

Chapter 7

Back in the ‘present’ day, circa 1250 CE…

Gael gazed up at Nātha with round eyes. “I’m Li Bai, aren’t I?” he asked in a wavering voice. “That’s why I can understand you and talk in a language I’ve never learned…in this lifetime, at least.” Nātha nodded, ice-amber eyes warming slightly. “That black wolf–I mean, that was him, wasn’t it? That was Láng? And now he’s inside me?”

Another nod. “His soul resides within yours temporarily.” Nātha lowered a soft hand to caress Gael’s enormous, new testicles.  He squeezed, adding, “These belonged to him. I…well, I loaned them to you. His soul transmigrated with them.”

“‘Temporarily’?” Gael repeated, ignoring the transmigration nonsense and focusing on the more important matter: His balls. “Does that mean I’m going to–?” He couldn’t finish the sentence; the thought of being a eunuch again was too much to bear.

“Láng’s soul must be reincarnated or he will die forever.” The monk lifted his fingers and cupped Gael’s bearded cheek. “You have two weeks at most.”

“Two weeks!” Gael protested. “You mean I’m gonna be a fucking castrated freak in two weeks?! I can’t–”

Nātha leaned forward and kissed him, effectively silencing him. After Gael had quieted, he said, “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out. Two weeks is plenty of time.”

Gael pulled his face away, declaring angrily, “For you maybe! But I’m the one who’s gonna lose his balls in two weeks!” He crossed his arms, glaring back at the monk. Now that the euphoria of sex had worn off, his poor asshole was screaming in pain and the true weight of everything that had happened came crashing down on him. He’d just been fucked by a man! And his compatriots had been turned into walking corpses! “I can’t believe any of this! What the fuck did you do to me!? You turned me into a fucking demon to use as your plaything! For two weeks! For two fucking weeks!”

When he shoved Nātha away from him, the monk sat back on his haunches and observed him. After a while, he stood and, taking the pair of scissors he’d set down on the rocks, proceeded to cut off his hair. Gael watched him, sniffling and trying not to cry, until Nātha had cut his hair down to about six inches in length. Then he couldn’t stand it any longer and, sitting up, grabbed the scissors out of Nātha’s hands.

“Here! You’ll ruin it!” He took up position behind the monk and carefully started trimming his hair. Gael had cut more than his share of hair in the two years that he’d been in the field with Iñigo and had gotten quite good at it. He was the go-to man in the company when soldiers wanted a trim. 

The monk sat quietly on the rocks before him, letting Gael cut his hair down to nothing on the sides. Gael left a few inches on top in a style he’d memorized from ancient statues when they’d passed through the ruins of a Roman villa. Once he was finished, Nātha was almost unrecognizable. And even more handsome than ever. Despite his sour mood, Gael found himself seduced once again by the man’s ethereal beauty.

“So, how many times have I been reincarnated?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him. And, honestly he’d take any excuse to prolong contact with Nātha. There was something completely irresistible about the man. The memories of how the monk had fucked him the first time more than five hundred years ago were still very prominent in his mind. After so many lifetimes, Nātha had perfected the art of fucking.

“I don’t know,” the monk admitted. “A few at least. The memories of those other lives may come back to you now, though.”

“What about Lùzhū?” Gael asked, suddenly breathless. “Where is he? Is he still alive? He didn’t die, did he? Can demons die? Oh, wait! If Láng died then Lùzhū can die, too?” He reached out and clutched Nātha’s shoulders. “Please tell me he’s not dead!”

“He’s not dead.”

Gael breathed a sigh of relief. The relief, however, was short-lived. “If he’s not dead, where is he? He’s my soulmate. Shouldn’t he be here with me right now?”

Nātha smiled. “I’m sure he’s not far away.”

Gael looked around as if he expected his soulmate to be hiding behind a tree nearby. “Where is he then? Tell me where he is!”

“I don’t know. He’s not my soulmate.” Nātha paused, taking a moment to look at his reflection in the small copper mirror. “Thank you, by the way. You did a good job.”

Gael wasn’t listening. He’d already jumped to his feet and was casting about frantically. “Help me find him! I’ve got to find Lùzhū!”

Nātha pushed himself to his feet and proceeded to unfold his clothing from the neat pile on the rocks and get dressed. When he was done, he urged Gael to do the same, chiding, “Do you wish to be naked in front of your commander?”

“Iñigo? I don’t care! He can go fuck himself for all I care.”

Nātha shrugged. “Then remain naked. You’re better looking this way.”

Gael’s ears grew hot. He could feel the monk’s eyes on him. Well, more specifically on his big, meaty ass. He inadvertently clenched his swollen butthole and whimpered in pain. It really hurt getting fucked up the ass by a huge cock!

***

He remembered the horses after he got dressed. “Wait!” he hollered. “We gotta take care of Rocio! And the rest of the horses. They haven’t been fed or watered since last night!” He started off at a trot, worried that the poor animals would be suffering after so long without water.

Nātha followed along behind him as he headed down the valley to the little glen where they’d tethered the horses. The sun was high in the sky by then and Gael guessed it was past noon. His stomach was growling and he wanted badly to eat something but he knew the horses couldn’t wait. It was a warm day and they really needed a drink of water.

Even before he reached the glen, his nose told him that something was wrong. He picked up pace, running into the clearing and letting out a cry of dismay when he discovered his big, gray stallion, Rocio, was flailing on the ground, bound up in the rope that Gael had used to tie him to a tree. Apparently, something had spooked him and he’d panicked, getting tangled in the process. 

Gael was confused. Rocio was even tempered even in the midst of battle and had never been prone to flightiness. The fact that he was in this state now told Gael that something serious had transpired while he was gone, something that caused Rocio to go berserk. He wondered what had gotten the stallion so upset as he rushed to its side. When the big animal saw Gael, he let out a pitiful whinny, his yellow eyes bloodshot and round in his head.

“Rocio! Oh, my God! Rocio!” Gael immediately pulled out his knife and cut through the rope, freeing the huge beast. The ground around Rocio was covered with blood from where the rope had bitten into his flesh. Gael placed his hands on the horse’s withers, urging him to stay down while he inspected his wounds.

“Get me some salve out of that pack over there,” Gael ordered. Nātha obediently went over to the bag in question and rummaged around in it, eventually extricating a small jar of salve. He knelt down beside Gael and the horse, handing over the medicine and surveying the big animal. Rocio’s eyes were rolled back in his head and he was breathing heavily.

Gael shook tears out of his eyes. Rocio had been his horse since he turned five years old. His father had bought him as a birthday present, surprising the young Gael by tethering the horse inside his bedroom while he slept. When he awoke that morning, Rocio had been standing over him, gently nibbling his ear. The two had been inseparable ever since. Rocio, still in his prime, had grown into an impressive war horse, racking up more than his share of casualties on the battlefield. He’d saved Gael’s life more times than he could count. The bond he shared with his horse was deeper than he shared with any human. Rocio was his whole life!

“I’m still weak from the poison,” Nātha said, “but I think I have enough spiritual energy to heal him.” Gael looked over at him, openly weeping, and nodded; Nātha got to work, folding his legs and closing his eyes in concentration. When he was sufficiently calm, he reached out and touched the stallion’s wounds. Gael watched in amazement as gold light flowed from the monk’s fingertips and the gashes and abrasions slowly began to close. In a half hour, Rocio was completely healed.

Rocio pushed himself back onto his hooves and Gael threw his arms around the beast’s neck, crying with happiness. Nātha stood, hands behind his back, observing them closely. He waited patiently while the stallion nuzzled the Gael, wuffling his ear and peeling back his horsey lips to nibble at his hair. Gael giggled like a little boy, kissing the horse on the neck.

Nātha cleared his throat. “You were wondering about where Lùzhū is?”

Gael reluctantly turned away from Rocio to look back at him. “Yeah?”

Nātha inclined his head toward the horse. “There he is.”

Gael’s eyebrows furrowed. “Lùzhū is a…horse? But how? I thought he was a wolf demon?”

“Lùzhū is a shapeshifter, not a wolf demon,” Nātha explained. “He can take any form. Even a horse.” He paused, adding, “If he was a wolf, he would have had trouble staying close to you in this lifetime. As a horse, though…”

Gael’s mouth slowly fell open. He looked from Nātha to Rocio and back again. His eyes were round.

“The clue,” Nātha continued, “is his yellow eyes. Shapeshifters always have yellow eyes. Have you ever seen another horse with eyes like his?”

“No…”

Nātha smiled. “Well, there you go. This is your Lùzhū.”

Gael was having trouble thinking. All of this was too much! He plopped down on his bare butt on the sand and held his head in his hands, rocking back and forth. Finally, he looked up at Nātha and begged, “Turn him into a human! I want him to be human!”

In answer, Nātha patted Rocio on the shoulder. “It may take some time for him to remember how. My guess is that he’s been a horse for so long that he’s forgotten.” When Gael whined in protest, he soothed, “Teach him. Now that you know who he is, you can teach him.”

“But how?!” Gael complained. “I don’t know how!”

Nātha’s mouth quirked. “I think you do.”

Try as he might to get him to tell him, however, Nātha refused to say any more. Gael was frustrated–he wanted Lùzhū to be a man so bad he couldn’t stand it!–but what could he do? When Nātha went silent, nothing could get him to talk.

***

“Three horses are missing,” Gael said after he’d finished tending to the herd. Rocio stayed close to him the whole time and inserted himself between Gael and Nātha whenever they got too close. It was almost as if he was jealous. “I won’t know for sure until we go back to the camp but that could mean that three men got away. If that’s so, we’re in trouble. They’ll warn Prince Stephen!”

Nātha regarded him through half-closed eyes. The monk, Gael was learning, rarely showed emotion. Even dire news did nothing to disturb his peaceful demeanor.

“Aren’t you worried?” Gael demanded. “Stephen has an Inquisitor in his army. Even with all of your fancy magic, there’s no way you can stand up against an Inquisitor!”

Nātha thought for a moment before asking, “What is an Inquisitor?”

Gael sighed. “Bad news, that’s what. He’s a priest from Rome who has been trained by the Pope’s elite corps of demon hunters. Once he finds out what you’ve done, he will come for you and there’s nothing you can do to stop him. Inquisitors are more powerful than anything you’ve ever encountered and meaner than the devil himself.”

“If that’s true,” Nātha reasoned, “then why wasn’t this Inquisitor part of your party last night?”

“Because we didn’t know you were a sorcerer, that’s why!” Gael shouted, exasperated. “Once those men reach Stephen’s army and tell him what you did, though, he’ll pull out all the stops. There’s no way he’s going to let you get back to Emerald Mountain. He’ll have his full army and the Inquisitor waiting for you.” He sagged down on his haunches, despairing. “We’re doomed! We’re fucking doomed!”

As usual, Nātha was quiet. After a while, though, he shrugged and started to head back toward the camp. “I’ve died many times before,” he said over his shoulder, “it doesn’t matter if I do so again. I can only do my best, the rest is up to the Tao.”

This did little to reassure Gael.

***

His worst fears were confirmed when they returned to the main camp (with Rocio still following behind.) Three of the men were indeed missing. They had escaped the night before and were probably halfway back to Stephen’s encampment by now. Gael’s shoulders sagged. Even if Nātha didn’t mind dying, he still didn’t relish the experience. It didn’t help knowing that he, too, had likely been reincarnated several times already…which meant he’d died on more than one occasion. He was by no means eager to repeat the experience!

The men infected with corpse poisoning were still milling about, lurching around like, well, like animated corpses. Their movements were stiff and jerky and their eyeballs were rolled up in their heads. Every once in a while, one of them would moan loudly, startling Gael. Even though Nātha had assured him that they weren’t in pain, he’d never heard anything make a sound like that before. They sure didn’t seem like they were having fun!

Nātha immediately went over to Iñigo and gently coaxed the defiant Arban out of the way. He then commenced removing the captain’s bandages and administering his healing touch. Surprisingly, Iñigo didn’t resist when the monk placed his glowing fingers on the empty socket where his arm used to be. Instead, he lay back against the tree trunk and closed his eyes. When Nātha was finished, his wounds were completely healed. Oh, he was still missing an arm but at least there wasn’t a gaping wound with exposed bone any longer. The skin around his shoulder socket was healthy and pink.

“Why don’t you heal me, too, while you’re at it,” Arban hissed in Nātha’s native tongue.

Before Nātha could reply, Gael jumped in, answering in the same language. “Because you’ll just try to kill him and run off, that’s why. This way you’re under his control.”

It was amusing to watch Arban fish-mouth back at him. “Wh-Wh-What? B-B-But–how? H-H-How can you speak–?”

Gael shrugged.  “I’m a quick study, I guess.”

“Demon!” Arban spat, backing away from him. “You’re a demon! He’s turned you into one of his demons!”

Iñigo cracked a disinterested eye. “What’s the problem now?” He appeared deeply relaxed after Nātha’s ministrations.

Arban whirled on the captain, switching to Aragonese. “The problem is that your fucking catamite has taken up with the devil. That’s what!”

Gael bristled at being called a catamite. He balled his hands into fists and would have swung at Arban if Nātha hadn’t stopped him with a calm hand on his shoulder, whispering, “Leave him be. He’s just upset and confused.”

Iñigo shrugged. “Come on, Arban! If he intended to hurt us, he would’ve done so by now.”

Arban’s mouth fell open. “HE RIPPED YOUR ARM OFF AND TURNED YOUR MEN INTO WALKING CORPSES!” He clenched his fists. “How is that not ‘hurting’ anyone? How?!”

“Arban,” Iñigo soothed. “Calm down. He didn’t rip off my arm, the wolf did. And only after we killed all of his men and tried to kill him. I’d say we were lucky. He’s obviously capable of much worse.”

“But-but-but!” Arban wailed, looking from Iñigo to Nātha and back again. “But your men–and me!” he gestured down to his ankle where the black stain had spread several more inches since Gael had last seen it. “What about us?! We’re all going to die if we don’t get a cure! Who’s side are you on anyway? You’re the one who wanted him dead in the first place! Stephen ordered you to kill him!”

“I will heal you once I’m safely back at Emerald Mountain,” Nātha promised, surprising all of them by speaking flawless Aragonese. “You have at least a week before the disease will kill you.”

Arban obviously didn’t find this very reassuring and was about to say so when Iñigo stopped him. “I trust him, Arban. I do. And I’m beginning to think that Stephen was wrong…I mean, we were wrong. We shouldn’t have tried to kill him. This was a bad idea from the start.”

“He-he-he’s corrupted you!” Arban stammered, staring at Iñigo in disbelief. “He’s turned you into one of his demons just like Gael!” He started backing away from them and would have fled but his infected leg tripped him up and he tumbled to the ground in a heap. “You’ve all gone insane!” he gasped, writhing in the dirt. “You’re insane!”

He would have said more but Nātha made a small gesture and immediately the spy fell silent. Staring in horror up at Nātha, he tried and failed to open his mouth. All they could hear was his muffled cries coming from deep in his throat but his lips remained sealed. When he realized he could not open his mouth, he glared murderously at the monk and thrashed about on the ground.

“What did you do?” Gael asked, staring in wonder at the silenced Mongol. “Did you really–?”

“It’ll wear off,” Nātha said. “In about an hour. In the meantime, we have business to attend to.” He turned his back on the silenced spy and faced Gael and Iñigo. “I am still weak from the poison or I could fly back to Emerald Mountain on my sword.”

“Wait. What?” Gael sputtered. “You can…fly? On your sword?”

Nātha nodded. “Of course. Only right now I can’t. I require another week at least to regain my full spiritual powers. In the meantime, I’m functioning on low strength and can only do very basic spells.”

“Holy shit.” Gael rubbed his forehead. Was there nothing Nātha couldn’t do?

“Because I can’t fly,” Nātha continued, “we will have to travel by horseback to Emerald Mountain. Once we’re there, my monks will heal your men and you will be free to go.”

“There’s just one problem,” Gael said, staring unhappily over at Iñigo. “Three of our men escaped last night and are probably heading back to warn Stephen.”

Iñigo’s face darkened as he quickly realized the implications of this. “Which means–”

Gael nodded. “Yes, the Inquisitor.”

“Fuck.” Iñigo reached up and massaged the spot where his arm used to be, grimacing. “We’re fucking screwed. That papal asshole is going to summon up a host of minions, tear your monk to shreds and haul what’s left of him down to the mouth of Hell.”

“I see,” Nātha said, smiling when Rocio stepped purposefully between him and Gael. “I will worry about that later. Right now I have other business to attend to. I’ll return shortly.”

“Wait!” Gael protested. “When will you be–?”

He was too late. The monk had already unsheathed his beautiful sword and was using the black edge to slice a hole in the fabric of reality. Gael, Iñigo and Arban stared at him in shock as he lifted his leg and stepped into the void, sealing it behind him with the silver edge of his sword.

He didn’t return until evening.

Chapter 8

Two days later at Prince Stephen’s encampment…

Brother Matteo di Valenti, the Pope’s Inquisitor, was panicking. The three riders from Iñigo’s party had returned to Stephen’s camp that afternoon with news of how Nātha had escaped their trap. Stephen had immediately summoned Matteo and ordered him to hunt down and kill the Buddhist monk using any means at his disposal. And by ‘any means,’ he meant holy sorcery.

“You are Pope Gregory’s most powerful inquisitor,” he’d concluded, staring sternly down at Matteo from the makeshift throne in his opulent tent. “I expect Nātha’s head on a platter within a week.”

Matteo had bowed deeply and, schooling his features, assured the prince that this is exactly what he would do. He then took his leave and walked at a dignified pace back to his tent. Outwardly, he appeared calm. Inwardly, however, he was a mess.

The problem was that Matteo possessed a brilliant mind but had absolutely no talent for inquisition. He’d only risen to the rank by memorizing every document in the Pope’s archive on demonology. He’d never actually succeeded in exorcizing a demon and had certainly never called upon a guardian angel. Had the Pope actually tested him, he would have known instantly that Matteo was a fraud. Instead, Gregory and his cardinals had been so utterly convinced by Matteo’s deep knowledge that they hadn’t thought to ask for a demonstration. If Matteo had one skill, it was his ability to convince pretty much anyone of anything. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t work this time.

He sighed heavily, pulling the leather flap back on his tent. What was he going to do?

“You have no idea what you’re going to do, do you?”

Matteo spun around to find one of the towering Varangian brutes who served as Stephen’s personal bodyguards lounging on the cot in his tent. “H-H-How long have you been here?” he demanded. “Who let you in?”

The man, Jan Jorviksen, smiled and scratched his balls. Much to Matteo’s discomfort, he was wearing only a leather harness and an exceedingly scanty loincloth. The pouch of that loincloth was so overstuffed that it looked like Jan’s massive male appendage would tumble out at any moment. “I’ve been here for at least an hour,” Jan drawled, stretching out and displaying his magnificently long and muscular body. “And no one let me in. I walked in on my own accord.” It was startling how well the heathen spoke vulgar Latin. “Now tell me that I’m wrong and you really aren’t a big fake.” He pushed himself up off of Matteo’s cot and loomed over him, folding his brawny arms and smiling. He was so tall that his immense bulge was nearly at eye level. Matteo swallowed, forcing his attention upward and pulling his black cassock more securely around his narrow shoulders. Jan still had all of his teeth, Matteo noticed, and they were exceedingly white. Some of them had even been filed down to fangs.

When Matteo was silent, Jan reached out and placed a big hand on his shoulder. “I knew it! You’re a fraud!”

Matteo found himself staring up into the brute’s crystalline blue eyes. Jan’s brownish gold hair was long and tied in twin ponytails. His beard was equally long and also braided into two tails. His face was wide and his features were square. His jaw, his shoulders, his chest, his hips, even his significant buttocks were square. He was, in Matteo’s mind, incredibly handsome even though he knew he wasn’t supposed to notice such things.

“Wh-Wh-What do you want?” He took a step backward as the man’s rich, musky scent filled his nostrils. Jan’s expression was feral.

“I want to help you, that’s what.” Jan’s chest, arms and legs, Mattero noticed for the first time, were covered in crude, blue tattoos. His big nipples were pierced with pieces of bone. Human finger bones from the look of it. Noticing his scrutiny, Jan grinned and puffed out his big, hairy chest. “My help, though,” he added in a husky voice, “comes at a price.”

Matteo knew he should be alarmed by Jan’s near nudity, potent scent and solicitous behavior but. as much as he wanted to flee, he couldn’t. He was held captive by the towering brute’s magnetic presence. 

When he remained silent, Jan’s grin deepened. “Here,” he said, holding out a small clay pot. “This contains everything you need to defeat the sorcerer.” 

Matteo reluctantly tore his gaze away from Jan’s big pierced nipples and saw the pot contained a foul-smelling green salve. He wrinkled his nose. “And what is that?”

“Flying ointment,” Jan replied cryptically. His demeanor bordered on insouciant; he knew that Matteo was his captive and would do anything he wanted. “We’ll use it to meet the gods.”

“Fl-flying ointment?” Matteo’s tongue was thick in his mouth. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“You wouldn’t have,” Jan snorted as if this was funny. “It’s forbidden. But our witches use it in their rituals. My mother is a witch and I watched her make it. I memorized the recipe.”

“But I’m an inquisitor!” Matteo protested, holding up his hands. “I can’t touch anything from the Devil! It’s unholy!”

“Devil?” Jan laughed. “Listen to you! As if you know the first thing about the Devil! What makes you so certain this ointment is the Devil’s work? 

“You just said that witches use it!” Matteo pointed out, hurt by the big brute’s ridicule. “Witches are the mistresses of the Devil!”

“Huh? Maybe. We don’t believe in such things.” Jan reached up and scratched a fragrant armpit before lowering his hand and scratching his fragrant balls. He rolled the little pot around in his other hand, staring at it thoughtfully. “But if you don’t want my help…” He started to stuff the pot back into a small bag hanging off his harness.

“Wait! No! I’ll take it! I don’t care. You promise it’ll work?”

Jan grinned, eyes lighting up again with that feral glow. “I promise.” He teasingly held out the little clay pot but plucked it away when Matteo reached for it. “But only if you agree to pay my price.”

“Wh-What is your price?” Matteo’s head was swimming. Something about Jan’s musk and the odor of the flying ointment made him feel like he might faint.

Jan didn’t answer the question directly. Instead, he said, “I’ve been watching you for a long time, monk.”

Matteo swallowed, inadvertently looking down. Jan’s enormous bulge was even larger than a moment ago. It was so large that it pushed the belt outward, revealing the man’s tangle of blond pubic hair and the incredibly thick base of his cock.

Noting the direction of Matteo’s gaze, Jan continued, “I’ve seen you bathing. I know your secret.”

Matteo’s mind blanked as panic overwhelmed him. “What? But…how? I thought no one–”

“Don’t worry.” Jan placed a heavy hand on Matteo’s shoulder; it was as hot as a burning brand. “I’m not going to tell anyone. Far from it! I would never reveal your secret to anyone.”

“What do you want then?” Matteo’s heart was pounding. He thought he’d been so careful! How had Jan seen him naked?

In answer, the big man reached down and unfastened the expensive buttons on Matteo’s cassock and untied his belt. Matteo started to protest but Jan shook his head. When Matteo fell silent, he lifted the cassock over his shoulders, leaving Matteo clad in only the narrow strip of cloth that he tied around his chest and his thin undergarments. He wrapped his hands protectively over his chest but Jan took hold of his wrists and moved them down to his sides.

Then he carefully, slowly, and very seductively untied the strip of cloth around his chest.

Matteo was left with his perky breasts bobbing before him and his hard nipples standing at attention in the cool air of the tent. He hung his head and closed his eyes, refusing to look at his private shame. He had breasts! Why did he have to grow breasts?!

“You were born half-he and half-she,” Jan murmured, moving his big, calloused hands up to cup Matteo’s breasts. Matteo moaned in spite of himself. No one had ever touched his breasts before! Jan smiled and then worked Matteo’s thin, wool undergarment down his narrow waist. 

Matteo felt the air caress his tiny, vestigial penis. It was so small that his cockhead barely poked out of his wispy black pubic hair. His balls were mere pebbles, completely insignificant…like his manhood. Matteo had fought his entire life to keep his secret hidden and had to choke back tears now that he was revealed so nakedly in front of the biggest, hairiest and brawniest man in the world.

“You are both handsome and beautiful,” Jan pronounced. His tone was one of awe and reverence. Expecting to be met with ridicule and finding the opposite, Matteo looked up and l drowned in Jan’s tender gaze. “I want you, Matteo,” the towering brute declared. “I want all of you.”

“Y-Y-You do?”

Jan nodded.

Matteo swallowed, feeling his tiny nub tingle. Of all of the scenarios he imagined when his secret was finally revealed, this was the least expected. “B-B-But I’ve taken a vow. I can’t–”

“Your vow makes no mention of this,” Jan pointed out, gesturing to his achingly huge bulge. “You’re only prohibited from having relations with a woman.”

“It’s still forbidden,” Matteo said but his voice lacked conviction.

“Let me take care of you, Matteo,” Jan pleaded. ‘Let me show you a whole new world.” He held out the salve, handing it to Matteo and unfastening his belt. When it came loose, his loincloth followed, tumbling to the dirt floor at his enormous feet. His giant cock sprang forth, more than a foot long and fatter than Matteo’s upper arm. His foreskin peeled back, exposing his shiny, moist cockhead; it was bigger than an apple and just as red. “Rub that on me and then I’ll take you for a ride. You’ll ride so hard and so fast that you’ll be flying in no time.”

***

Chapter 9

Jan laid down on the straw mat next to Matteo’s cot. He patted his belly expectantly and Matteo obediently straddled him, squatting down. His heart pounded when his big, soft bottom touched the brute’s firm, bare belly. 

Jan sighed contentedly, his giant pole slapping Matteo on the butt. He reached up and caressed his breasts, squeezing them, and then he gently pinched his big nipples. “You have hairy breasts, monk,” he murmured. “I like them. Much better than any woman!”

Matteo looked down at his pert breasts lightly covered in kinky, black chest hair. It was as if he was seeing them with new eyes. He’d always been so ashamed that he couldn’t stand to look at them. Now, though, he realized that they could be desirable. If he needed proof of this, all he had to do was look down to see the flame of desire in Jan’s gaze. His lover drooled as he fondled his soft, succulent, fuzzy orbs. Maybe I’m not such a freak after all?

He’d spent his entire life since puberty hiding those breasts. He’d been so skilled at this that even his parents didn’t know that he’d developed a pair of tits by age thirteen. When he joined the monastery, he picked a sect with strict rules around modesty. His fellow monks had chafed at the prohibitions that treated the human body as an untamed garden of sin. For him, though, it had been a liberation. Because the monks were required to wear clothing even when bathing, he never worried about being found out. He’d merely kept his breasts tied down with an omnipresent strip of cloth and went about his business.

Becoming an inquisitor had offered even more refuge from prying eyes. Inquisitors lived solitary lives of prayer and study when they weren’t torturing witches and banishing demons. The Pope had given him a private cell and left him alone, content in the knowledge that Matteo was dedicated to his profession with an unsurpassed zeal. Matteo had flourished intellectually even as he languished socially. Loneliness became his constant companion but, as lonely as he was, the ache of it was nothing compared to terror he felt at being discovered as a hermaphrodite. He kept to himself and shunned company.

Until Prince Stephen came calling.

When Pope Gregory informed him that he had been selected to accompany the prince on his campaign of conquest, Matteo had been both terrified and elated. Terrified that he would be surrounded by thousands of hulking, sweaty men at all times and elated that he would no longer be so alone. He’d packed up his meager belongings and joined the horde of soldiers, captivated especially by the towering Varangian brutes who served as Stephen’s bodyguards. 

As a member of the prince’s retinue, Matteo was never far away from the smelly giants and he liked it that way. He’d find any opportunity to be near them, hanging out at an adjacent table while they gambled and drank. Stealing glances at their oiled-up bodies when they practiced combat. Spying on them when they crept away to have carnal relations with the coterie of whores who trailed along behind the army. Little did he know that one of them had been watching him just as closely…

“You are my man,” Jan proclaimed, sitting up and cupping Matteo’s soft, hairy buttocks in his big hands. He lowered his head and tickled Matteo’s puffy nipple with his tongue before wrapping his lips around it and suckling like a hungry baby. Matteo threw his head back and moaned softly.

Jan sucked Matteo’s nipples for a long time, driving him wild with passion. His tiny prick was dribbling between his fleshy thighs and he was burning with such ardor that sweat trickled down his back. In all of his life, he’d never guessed that being with a man could be so much fun!

When Jan’s fingertips touched his nubile asshole, though, Matteo braced. “Ha! Don’t worry, monk!” the brute laughed. “I know what I’m doing! Trust me. I have lots of experience.”

Jan proceeded to tempt and titillate Matteo’s virgin pucker with his rough fingertips, tickling and teasing him until he was on the verge of hysteria. When he begged Jan to enter him, he thought he would die of shame. But this was just the invitation that Jan was waiting for.

“Now we fly.” 

Jan pulled out the little pot of flying ointment and unstoppered it. The intense odor filled their nostrils, causing them to gasp. It was both stinky and alluring. Matteo gazed down at it in wonder. What would this stuff do to him?

Sticking a finger inside the pot, Jan extracted a fragrant dollop and reached back to slather his incredibly hot, hard pole. He moaned as he did so, breathing, “Fuck! It burns!”

He didn’t give Matteo time to worry about it. With practiced ease, he lifted Matteo’s butt upward and then brought him down onto his massive cock. Bullseye! Matteo cried out as Jan’s giant skewered him, thrusting in so deeply that he was immediately buried to the hilt. Stars and explosions filled Matteo’s head as he gave himself over to the most forbidden sin known to man. A man was fucking him up the ass!

“Ride me,” Jan gasped. “I’m your stallion!”

Matteo did, undulating his broad hips in time with Jan’s thrusts. The hulking brute’s giant cock rammed deeper all the time until Matteo looked down and saw the outline of that monster pressing out from within his soft stomach. He didn’t care if anyone heard their amorous grunting from outside the tent. This was a pleasure more sublime than heaven! He arched his back and felt his breasts flopping up and down as Jan bucked beneath him. The big brute really was a stallion! He never wanted this ecstasy to end!

When his vision started to fog and he felt his soul leave his body, he thought at first it was from the pure bliss of sex. Only after a while did he realize that it was the effect of the flying ointment.

“Look at me,” Jan ordered. “Keep your eyes on me. Don’t look around. We’re almost there.”

Jan was staring at him with an expression of such utter love and devotion that it took his breath away. There was no way he would even think about looking away from that beautiful man! He knew then that Jan would never leave him, that the two of them would be together for the rest of their lives…and beyond.

“Good. You’re a good boy.”

Matteo smiled at the praise, lowering his mouth down to meet Jan’s. The big, sweaty brute lifted his face and met him, opening his mouth wide and inviting Matteo’s tongue inside. They kissed deeply even as they continued to fuck, lost in a carnal union. Tears filled his eyes when Matteo realized he felt truly whole for the first time in his life. This was what had been missing! Jan. Jan–and his long, thick cock–completed him.

“You’re mine, little monk. All mine.” Jan licked him across the mouth. “No one will ever take you from me.”

He would have said more but that moment they landed with a thud. Matteo looked around startled to find they were no longer in his tent but lying on the floor of an ornate temple. Expertly-carved, white marble columns surrounded them and he could hear the gentle trickle of a fountain nearby. A soft breeze ruffled his hair; it smelled of honey and herbs. Matteo’s knees touched the smooth rock and he stared in amazement at Jan.

“Where are we?” He felt like he was going to hyperventilate.

Jan shrugged beneath him, his big cock still thumping against Matteo’s prostate. “We flew. I don’t know where but I do know it is where you need to be. Here you will find what you need to take on Nātha.” When Matteo tried to ask more questions, Jan sighed and yanked his head down, enveloping his mouth in a kiss. He wrapped his arms around Matteo’s neck and proceeded to drive him to the deepest, most intense orgasm. They both came together, breaking free of the kiss and bellowing at the top of their lungs. Matteo’s butthole couldn’t stop singing its praises for Jan’s huge dick!

When Jan’s cock was finally softening inside him, the brute declared, “It’s done.” He looked over at the little pot of ointment, lying on its side on the marble floor next to them. “And there’s even enough left for us to return.”

Matteo was panting. His whole body thrummed with exhaustion and desire. Even though he was extremely curious to find out where they were, he never wanted to part with Jan. He wanted to stay like this forever.

When he said as much, Jan laughed. “You’re a hungry one, aren’t you, monk? Don’t worry! I will never leave your side. Now let’s get cleaned up and see where we are!”

He urged Matteo to stand. Matteo grimaced as the big brute’s long cock exited his aching chute. He felt embarrassed to let Jan see him like this but Jan stopped him when he tried to turn away. Staggering to his feet, he enfolded Matteo with his huge arms and squeezed. Then he led him over to the fountain and proceeded to rinse him off, spending a long time fondling his breasts and soothing his aching butthole.

The temple was unlike anywhere Matteo had ever been. Even the most opulent treasures of Rome couldn’t compare to it. It seemed like he had landed in the midst of heaven. Outside, a wild garden of cedar and laurel trees awaited. A crystalline stream emerged from within the midst of the little grove, its waters gurgling across moist rocks and running down into a verdant pasture. The grass was green and the sky was cerulean blue. Blue-tinged mountains with snowy crests rose up in the distance and he could see the waters of a wine-dark sea far off on the eastern horizon.

One thing drew his attention more than anything else, though: A pomegranate tree. It stood in the center of the untamed garden a stone’s throw from the temple. Its branches were laden with succulent, ruby fruit. Its limbs and leaves and fruit seemed to glow from within and its light drenched everything with soft gold, silver and amber. It seemed to contain the very light of the sun, moon and the stars. Gazing upon it took his breath away. His mouth watered. How he would love to taste its fruit!

“Welcome, Inquisitor.”

They turned at the sound of a man’s voice. Panicking, Matteo clapped one hand over his little penis and the other over his breasts. His cheeks flamed crimson at being caught in the aftermath of sex in such a holy place. Beside him, Jan merely crossed his beefy arms and let his hulking penis and pendulous balls hang proudly before him. Clearly, the big man was not easily cowed.

The being behind them could only be described as angelic, even though it did not possess any wings. Clad in shining silver armor and carrying a long, exquisitely made sword of pure silver, it approached them, a beatific smile on its face. With long, brown hair and a lithe physique, it seemed like it could almost be a woman. But its shoulders were broad and it had a close-cropped, black beard on its cheeks. Its skin was brown-hued, much like Matteo’s own. Its brown eyes danced with amusement as it gazed upon them.

“Wh-Wh-Who are you?” Matteo croaked. His mouth dried up at the sight of such a dazzling creature.

The angel bowed. “You may call me Light-Bringer because that’s what I do.” Its mouth quirked. “But are you here to ask questions or get answers?”

Jan smirked next to him and Matteo jerked. “I-I-I need your help.”

“So I gathered.” The angel inclined its head and spread its arms wide to encompass the temple and surroundings. “All you need is here. Take whatever you wish. It’s all for you.”

Matteo swallowed. When he spoke, his voice was raspy. “But I don’t know what I need! You see, I’m not a real inquisitor. And I have to defeat a sorcerer. I don’t know what to do!”

The angel smiled. “I will help you. Don’t worry. You’ve come to the right place.”

Matteo looked around. “Where are we? Is this heaven?”

The angel laughed. “Some might call it that. But, no, this is merely an illusion. Like all good illusions, though, it hints at the truth. Let the truth of this place find you. Let it guide you, Inquisitor. You will find your way.” He seemed like he was about to say something else but stopped and cocked his head at Matteo. “Why do you cover yourself, Inquisitor? Has not God blessed you with the very body you now seek to hide?”

Matteo’s cheeks flamed. “If He did, it must have been a joke. I’m an abomination. A freak of nature.”

In answer to this, the angel merely reached down and unfastened its finely-wrought chest plate. The armor fell apart in a clam shell and the Light-Bringer caught it and placed it on the marble floor. When it straightened, Matteo gasped. 

The angel had breasts just like his own!

“There is no male or female here,” the Light-Bringer murmured, reaching up to cup his fuzzy breasts fondly. “Only one. We are all one. Your earthly body is the reflection of this divine perfection.”

“I’ll say!” Jan exclaimed next to Matteo. He was smiling appreciatively at the angel’s breasts but, when he looked down at Matteo, his gaze burned with something beyond appreciation; his eyes burned with lust.

Matteo was dumbstruck. It had never occurred to him that this was possible, that he was divine by nature. He’d always believed his body was flawed, that he was a creature of unredeemable sin, that God’s punishment was reflected in the very presence of his female organs.

But, no.

He saw now that he’d been wrong.

He wasn’t flawed.

He was perfect!

Just like the Light-Bringer!

Taking a cue from the angel and from Jan’s lasciviousness, Matteo boldly dropped his hands and stood before them without shame. He thrust his shoulders back and pushed out his breasts. He’d never felt so alive or so on fire with the beauty of his body.

“There you go!” the angel praised. “Now you are free. Follow your freedom, Inquisitor. Let it lead you. Don’t ever let your body be your prison again.”

Jan’s arm was on Matteo’s shoulders. After drawing him against his great, furry body, he nudged him. “We don’t have long. Go get what you need and come back here. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“But I don’t know what to do!” Matteo protested. “I’m lost!”

“Not lost,” the angel corrected. “You just need to trust yourself. Follow your heart. Let it lead you where you need to go.”

Matteo took a deep breath, still not understanding what he was supposed to do. At that moment, though, the radiant glow from the pomegranate tree caught his eye and he turned, savoring its beauty. Before he knew what he was doing, he was padding out of the temple to wade through thick grasses that caressed his naked legs. Soon, he stood before the tree.

One pomegranate hung down low before him. If he stood on his tiptoes, he could reach it. He lifted his arm and his fingers closed around that delicious orb. It seemed to pulse with the heartbeat of life at his touch. He pulled, mouth watering. Oh, how he wanted to taste that fruit!

“Ouch!”

He yanked his hand away and rubbed his finger where a welt now marred the skin. As he stared, the welt started to bleed. He stuck the finger in his mouth and looked up into the tree in confusion. The ruby red fruit still dangled alluringly before him but this time he saw something he’d missed in his haste to pluck it.

A snake.

A serpent gazed down upon him with icy amber eyes. Its long, sinuous body was twined around the branches. Its smooth, mottled skin was the perfect camouflage, hiding it perfectly. All told, its body was longer than Matteo’s. It was an enormous snake!

It’s tongue flicked out and it seemed to smile at him. It opened its mouth as he stared and he watched its jaws open, revealing two deadly fangs. They dripped with golden venom.

Matteo turned and ran, bolting across the garden and up the steps of the temple. Throwing his arms around Jan, he cried, “A snake! It bit me!”

Jan chuckled, drawing him closer and mussing his hair. “So it was a snake, huh? That’s what you needed? A snake?”

“No!” Matteo protested. “I didn’t–”

“There are no accidents here,” the angel interrupted. It walked around them, coming to stand before Matteo. Its chest was still bare, its breasts bobbing lazily. “You haven’t been poisoned; you’ve been given a gift.”

Matteo looked up at him, annoyed. “I didn’t need a snake! I needed the fruit but it bit me when I tried to take it!” He lifted up his throbbing finger accusingly. “It poisoned me! I can feel it inside me!”

“You know what else you’re going to feel inside you?” Jan teased, taking Matteo’s finger and moving it down to his penis. His cock was already standing up again. Matteo’s finger touched its moist glans just as a little jet of precum shot out.

“Jan! This isn’t funny!” Matteo tried to pull his hand away but Jan made him grasp his huge erection. Matteo’s fingers inadvertently closed around it and he gasped when he felt that incredible appendage swell even bigger.

“Come on, monk!” his lover cajoled. “You got what you came for. Now let’s go!”

“But I didn’t!” Matteo protested, looking frantically over to the angel for help but it only smiled enigmatically back at him. “I didn’t get anything but a snake bite! I can’t go yet!”

Jan replied to this outburst by moving his hands down to cup Matteo’s soft buttocks. He squeezed and then hefted him upward. Matteo found his feet circling the big man’s narrow hips and then Jan arched his back and tossed Matteo easily upward before guiding him back down onto his massive cock. Matteo’s eyes rolled back in his head and he moaned. Jan sank down onto his haunches, taking Matteo with him. Then he reached out and picked up the discarded ointment. He dabbed a finger inside and then rubbed a blob of the greasy substance on Matteo’s little nub.

“It’s your turn this time,” he said. “Fly us back home!”

Matteo opened his mouth to object but then cried out as the ointment burned into his skin. Tears filled his eyes and he whimpered. Just as the pain washed over him, everything went dark and all he knew was the rhythmic thrusts of Jan’s cock stretching out his hole. He fell backward and Jan caught him, never missing a beat. He moved Matteo’s body up and down, up and down, driving them both to another volcanic climax.

When Matteo opened his eyes, they were back in his tent.

***