Morris couldn’t figure out what was he was going to do.
Over by the stump, the fox was two hours into her initiation, and there was already a steady stream of semen flowing from her cunt. Kent looked about thirty seconds away from contributing with what would be the twenty second load, including her mouth. Another twenty seven after that, and everyone would have pumped her full of spunk from one end or the other.
Everyone except for Morris, that is.
He didn’t even know why he wasn’t participating. He’d done it plenty of times before. He’d raped monsters just as hard as Kent and Lopez were doing right now. And it wasn’t like he didn’t find the fox attractive. Far from it; he felt like he’d had an erection since the moment he’d seen her take human form out in the forest. She’d deserve it too. He’d read up on gumiho and their eating habits. The beautiful creature gagging on Lopez while Kent fired his cum into her was a mass murderer several times over.
It wasn’t because her red hair made her resemble Samantha. So had the banshee seven months ago, and the werewolf two years ago. He’d had no trouble helping punish them. There was just something different about this fox. Or maybe the only difference was him. Morris couldn’t deny that he’d felt less and less satisfied working for Levinson over time. When he’d started five years ago, he’d felt like a hero, saving the world one monster at a time. And that had been exactly what he’d needed back then, after what had happened.
The thought of Samantha conjured up a rush of painful memories that he couldn’t ignore. They’d been on active duty in the Middle East when he’d lost her. While out on patrol, his unit had encountered a creature shaped like a man but clearly inhuman, its body made of some hard, jet black substance that resembled obsidian and radiated heat. He knew now that it had been an efreet, but at the time, it had been everyone’s first experience with anything from the supernatural world. And for everyone but Morris, their last.
His survival had been pure luck. Most of his teammates were reduced to smoking corpses within the first five seconds. The only reason the inferno that murdered them didn’t claim his life too was that he’d been the one standing closest to Samantha, and the efreet had directed his fire away from her. He’d wanted her alive.
Badly burned and half dead, Morris had been able to do nothing but watch what happened next. He often wished that he hadn’t, that he’d just passed out until it was all over, but fate hadn’t been so kind. Even on her own against a being she knew nothing about, Sam hadn’t given up. Her tenacity was one of the reasons he’d fallen in love with her. But it hadn’t saved her. She’d emptied an entire magazine into the creature. Its response had been a wave of flame that swept over her. Not intended to kill her, it had instead burned away her uniform, most of her hair, and left first and second degree burns all over her body. She’d collapsed, gun falling from scorched fingers, and the efreet had wasted no time closing in.
Sometimes at night, he still had nightmares about her screams. The efreet’s cock had been made of the same hot, black rock as the rest of it. Samantha had been on her hands and knees, scrambling to reach her gun, when the creature had penetrated her. She’d howled as its stony cock ripped into and burned her insides, slowly cooking her alive as it raped her.
The monster had gone at her quickly and brutally. It must have known that its prey wouldn’t survive the experience for long. Its clawed hands had grabbed her breasts, making the flesh sizzle as it used the leverage to pound her with hard, sharp strokes. Sam never stopped struggling. She tried to kick the thing, tried to rip its hands off of her, tried to crawl away, tried to evade the instrument of torture that was its cock. And in every respect she failed. The efreet dominated her effortlessly, its prick drilling in and out of her despite everything she tried. It came less than a minute into the savage rape, Samantha’s cries becoming something frantic and inhuman as it shot its boiling hot cum into her.
She’d died shortly later with its cock in her mouth. The efreet’s thick phallus had burned and choked her at the same time, drawing agonized squeals from her. Its claws had dug into her neck, drawing lines of blood that boiled away into steam while it viciously fucked her throat, thumping her head against its crotch hard enough to bruise her burnt face. Morris witnessed the exact moment the monster killed her. He would never forget, no matter how hard he tried. Samantha had let out a long, slow groan full of misery, then her body gave one final twitch and went completely limp, urine spraying out between her legs. The efreet didn’t even slow down. It continued raping her for a full minute afterward before its second load went down the dead woman’s throat.
It didn’t bother killing Morris before it left, carrying Sam’s corpse away with it like she was some sort of sick trophy. It had probably assumed that he would just die on his own, and normally it would’ve been right. In any other circumstance, Morris wouldn’t have had the willpower to survive like that, miles away from civilization badly injured and without any food or water. The only thing that had kept him alive, that got him to drag his burnt and broken body far enough to be seen and rescued, was the desire to tell the world what he’d seen, and to get revenge for Sam.
But the world hadn’t cared. His superior officers rejected his account as lies, and the official conclusion was that he had somehow caused his unit’s deaths himself through incompetence. He’d tried to convince them at first, but eventually he’d realized the truth: the supernatural was no secret to people in power. It was only ordinary folks like him that didn’t know, and the world’s leaders had a vested interest in keeping it that way. The knowledge of what he’d seen couldn’t be allowed to enter the mainstream, so they’d made him take the fall instead. They didn’t even have the mercy to kill him. If he’d died under mysterious circumstances, it might have led to people taking an interest in him. Alive, he was just a worthless fuck-up who hadn’t been able to come up with a believable cover story.
Three months after he’d been dishonorably discharged, still recovering in the hospital, Levinson had approached him. Morris’s first impression of the man had been a negative one: callous, ill tempered, and arrogant. The sort of person he wouldn’t have associated with before his life was ruined. But Levinson had laid things out for him: he made a living hunting down monsters. Some he simply killed, others… “Make them pay for what they’ve all done to humanity” was how he’d put it. Morris had accepted his offer of recruitment without hesitation.
It hadn’t taken long to discover that Levinson was at least as sadistic as any supernatural creature, but Morris hadn’t minded. His first mission that wasn’t about killing was a rusalka, a creature that enjoyed seducing young men and then drowning them in her waters. Morris and the rest of Levinson’s crew had drowned the green haired bitch in their cum instead, fucking her until she was a whimpering mess, and Morris had loved every moment of it. There had been no shades of grey to what he was doing; she was an evil monster, and he was like an instrument of divine punishment. Even when he discovered that Levinson’s plan was to break her down into a sex slave, whom he would then deliver to the man who’d hired them, he wasn’t bothered. Why give monsters the mercy of a quick death when they could be made to suffer instead?
Levinson had provided them with a few pictures and videos of the rusalka’s new home after a couple months. He liked to do that sometimes, show everyone what they’d accomplished. The rusalka now lived nailed to a table by her hands and feet, her legs spread wide and head hanging off to make all her holes available. Above her new home were industrial strength heat lamps that constantly baked the creature. For the former river dweller, this state of permanent dessication was an absolute and unending torture. Morris had watched her beg her owner for his cum, urging him to use any hole he liked, as hard as he liked, as long as it meant receiving his wet seed. He watched her sincerely thank the man for his generosity while he fucked her ass, and when he pissed on her tits afterward, only dehydration kept her from sobbing with gratitude.
He’d felt good about that. The rusalka was just getting what she deserved, and if that involved keeping a rich man’s balls drained, so what?
Daniels had a deathgrip on both of the fox’s ears, and he was twisting and pulling on them while he humped her face, making the creature issue keening sounds of pain around his cock. “Come on fox slut, you want me to leave these cute fuzzy ears alone, you’d better fuck him harder than that,” he taunted. Between her spread legs, Jacobs was standing still, letting the gumiho fuck herself on his cock. She was obeying, desperate to make Daniels stop torturing her, but her bonds only allowed her shallow movements if she didn’t want to torture herself with the tent stakes. “Never gonna get him off that way,” he said. “You’ve gotta work for this batch of baby batter.”
The fox groaned but did what he wanted, increasing her movements to get Jacobs’s prick in her more deeply. From the way her body kept tensing and wriggling, her staked tails were making her efforts agonizing. “That’s our good fox slut,” Daniels teased. “Squirming in pleasure at getting deep dicked.” He shifted his hands so that he had an overhand grip on her ears, holding them like bike handles. “Gonna take you for a ride while you enjoy him.” He began humping her much harder than before, his belly bouncing off her forehead on each stroke.
Morris felt slightly sick to his stomach as he watched the pair abuse the fox. It wasn’t that she didn’t deserve any minute of it, it was that her sins weren’t the reason they were being so cruel. As far as Morris could tell, most of the other men couldn’t care less about justice or punishment. They just wanted pretty girls to rape, and hunting inhuman ones let them do it without worrying about the consequences. For a long time, he’d told himself that their intentions didn’t matter, only their results, but every new act of cruelty made that a little harder to believe.
That was why he’d helped the fox last night. When Levinson had decided to cut all her tails off, it hadn’t been a move designed to make her regret what she’d done. It had just been a temper tantrum over her making him look foolish for a second. And no matter how awful she was, to mutilate such a beautiful creature felt wrong to Morris. She was a work of art, and breaking her down didn’t meant they had to ruin that. Similarly, the captain’s order to make her hold the training pose all night had been short sighted and cruel. It wouldn’t have been the first time one of their captives had died because of his sadism, and every time it happened, it made it harder for Morris to remember what made them better than what they hunted.
Jacobs was cumming inside the gumiho, and she was still thrusting her hips against him, trying to convince Daniels to let go of her ears now that she’d done what he’d ordered. But Daniels wasn’t thinking about anything but his own approaching orgasm. Even after Jacobs went soft and was quickly replaced by the next man, he was still gripping her ears as hard as ever while he rammed himself in and out of her gasping throat. Judging by the trickle of tears down her face, the fox was coming to realize that she was completely powerless now. They could say and do whatever they wanted with her, and if they broke their word or did something she hated, her only option was to take it and hope they might not be so cruel next time.
Morris felt none of the satisfaction he’d once enjoyed at seeing a monster getting punished. As far as he could tell, it was just monsters all the way down, himself included, and he didn’t know what to do about that. He watched the fox’s gangrape continue, no closer to an answer than before.