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Mastering the Beastmaster © Tsumi Moogle '18 Characters Themselves.

His breathing was ragged, heaving with effort that he hadn't seemed to exhude. At least, not to end with. Like dropping onto a fiery Brumby and trying to rein it into a modicum of control, Morpheus had been warring with himself. Some primal, animal part of himself that had so freely welcomed the returning call of Beastmaster.

The dust slowly settling about them, he still quivered, as the claws scrabbling for control of the proverbial wheel lashed and lunged in the recesses of his mind. But pressing his broad foot down, wheezing the air from his downed opponent, the claws receded as well. 'Grrrpph..! You haven't won yet, hero!' the villain gasped, gritting his teeth, still trying to maintain a grin. Morpheus towered, hunched, even though the floor above them had collapsed in the mayhem as he'd flung the deceptively tough.. dragon? ..Dog? He'd never really tried to figure out what Beastmaster was, other than an irksome pain in his side. 'Cushy, though.' coaxed that animal part of his brain. The hero's boot kneaded over the villain, rolling the treads to force a squeak from the pinned form.

Another fixation of his mind, and he drew himself away from that otherself, poised on his shoulder, staring down at the disheveled, brown-furred dragon thing. Broad muzzle, curious horns framing his face. Framing his blushing face. Those masked eyes were staring up at him, not quite terrified, at least, not for the size that the hero had borrowed from one of the villains enormous, scarcely cognizant hulks of side-kicks. More the terrified look of a mouse who realized the tiger had him in his clutches, to toy with him.

He nearly purred as his muzzle spread into a grin that he could scarcely understand himself feeling. Beastmaster's words still echoed in his mind from when the villain had grabbed him, to fixate his power on him, to bend him to his will forcibly. 'Be Big. Be Bad. Dominate. Break. Indulge.'

But he'd never said who to break, only shown snippets of thought that that animal part of him had clung to and interpreted. Everyone. He'd never said who to dominate. Only inferred. The weak, the helpless.

And the figure squirming, grasping at the boot that spanned his chest, and nudged his head aside, struggled. Helplessly. The hero hesitated with a slow, unbidden brush of his tongue along his lips. This wasn't right. This was very right. A hero didn't do this. But he wasn't here to be a hero. He didn't want to do this. Didn't he? The dragon was weak. He was helpless. Indulging. Breaking. Being Big, and Bad.. Dominating. The thought of the word send a shiver through his body. Praise, reward, a sensation that fed the most fundamental part of his minds drew a long, heated breath from the hero. He swallowed, and licked his lips again.

His broad boot stirred, and shifted, Pressing across the dragon's torso, before the other lifted and pressed over his lower half, as the villain's eyes widened, and his unintelligable squeak made the towering hyenolf's tail wag. 'So sorry, Master.' He found his words rolling from his muzzle as he stepped off the villain ponderously, pacing slowly. Circling almost like a big-cat, looming, and tromping his heavy steps towards the villain as the pudgy derg tried to scramble back.

The heel of one thick-lugged boot pinned his legs and tail in place, and rolled forward, pressing the villain down with immense force. His next step slowing, to span the villain's torso again, kneading his thick treads into the slightly ripped outfit. The toe of his boot lay level with the dragon's fuzzy mane of lighter caramel hair. The malleable feel of the dragon's body undersole, a sound reminder of its belonging there. His heel lifted and slowly he twisted the broad sole, mooshing the would-be villain's face about, nudging it aside, brushing it this way and that, pinning his nose square between several lugs.. He could press him flat if he wanted to. Those scrambling arms hadn't a hope of lifting his gargantuan weight free on their own.

..But where was the fun in breaking him, yet? That animalistic side, invisible to all but the hyenolf, nuzzled his ears. Their claws combed, brushing along his arms slowly. There are just so many ways to enjoy the helpless. They could show him, they would delight as much as he would, to do so. 'Just this one.' Morpheus thought, allowing the images of his memories, soaring over the city in chaos when the villain's city-wide shout-out appealing the crass side of the citizens en masse had brought him a small army with the meekest of effort. Citizens turned into their most callous and crude selves. Guided into his wanton needs and greeds. The banks had been robbed by their own, cash registers emptied, jewelery cases smashed. 'He deserves it.' Because he is weak. The beastial side concurred with a grin, resting their hands on the controls in the hero's mind, guiding.

Guiding his broad boots over the pinned villain with such a casual, but pointed gait. His weight shifted, kneading his weight to flex the broad treads over the villain's snout before strolling about again. Dragging, kneading steps smothering Beastmaster's form down, stepping on his hands and arms, over his doughy middle with a fangy smirk. And all the while, spying the vibrant blush in the dragon's cheeks despite his wincing as the corrupted hero made an easy doormat of him.

But for it, the flex of his soles yielded little tactile response. The hyenid idly pressed his heel against the pinned form's groin and gut, rolling his sole back and forth, almost pumping as the villain started and grasped at the boot, writhing bashfully. And with a thought, the metal greaves loosened, and he drew his foot from within to nudge the boot aside.

With a squeak, Beastmaster started as the bare paw stepped firmly beside him, brushing against his side, before the other boot loomed up overhead. Descending with a callously mocking lack of speed, he got to take in the shift of light on the thick treads as they slowly blocked his vision, and soon pressed against his face anew. Through them, he could feel the thunderous rumble of the almost gnollish hero. 'Hold it there, Master.' It was no suggestion. His trembling hands raised to hold over the broad top of the metal capped boots, feeling the curious ripple of them shifting, and the drag of the broad paw from within. But in its wake, the boot remained, shockingly heavy to the villain. He Blushed as he kept it pressed to his face, nuzzling meekly, even aware as he was that he was being stared at. 'And kiss.' The voice was unlike anything Beastmaster had ever heard the hyenid utter. A rich, but teasing tone, a knowing tone. His face scrunched up bashfully, somewhat glad for the cover as he pressed a meek kiss against the thick lugged sole.

And then felt the malleable pressure of those warm pawsoles kneading over his form again as Morpheus began strolling again. The boot tumbled from his hands to land with a weighty thud beside his head as he gripped at the ground in shock and tensing caution. The broad soles conformed well, thick toes curling to grip at his tattered outfit, and even gripping about his entire face, to squeeze in against the underside of his digits. The strength of even those toes keeping him muzzled, and for a moment, smothered to the point that he had to struggle for breath, finally managing to twist his head aside with a gasp.

Already though, Morpheus brushed his foot past the dragon's slightly spinning head. Moving about with that fluid, powerful grace, to settle on a sizeable chunk of fallen roofing. Almost forming the shape of a chair, or rough-hewn throne, the hero settled and rested one broad leg over the other to settle his thick, dark-padded soles before the villain. With the domino mask keeping those eyes irksomely, opaquely white, the dragon could scarcely read where the hero's eyes were pointed, or what they were saying, but the poise read it all. Waiting, for him. Beckoning expectantly, as if he knew the power of the draw that position had.

And evidently, power he had, as the dragon found himself clambering up, crawling towards the haughtily poised hyenid. That almost regal gaze falling over him as Morpheus splayed his thick toes, curling them to wrinkle the broad ball-pad before splaying them to stretch the leathery flesh taut. Swallowing as he knelt before the immense frame of his long-term adversary, the villain's gloved hands reached, and grasped either side of the torso-sized stomper, and pressed his muzzle against the thick pads. Surely he'd adjusted his paws to make them as supple as they were. The dark soles were cushy, supple, and oddly, pleasantly warm. The broad toes curled a little over his head, to squeeze about his horns and trap the dragon's face in place against that broad sole, making the villain squirm and struggle.

But not out of desire to escape, the thought wasn't anywhere in the dragomutt's mind, just the sheer size of that paw, of both paws, as the other lifted and cupped beside its twin, wedging his soft-cheeked face between the broad soles, and both sets of thick toes sealed about the back of his head, all but smothering him in the broad, yet yielding power of the hefty soles.. Soles he'd been under, had felt that immense weight spreading, compressing, near squashing him down. The span of them, especially in those hefty boots made him swallow, he could nearly be buried beneath the heroes thick soles at this comparative size. As if he were reading that very thought, the hyenid relaxed a broad foot to rest before the villain's face, a large toe resting on his nose, and tracing to his lips, brushing along it slowly. And without further prompting, or the slightest twinge of hesitancy, Beastmaster's tongue spread his lips to cup and swirl along the broad toe-pad, snaking and tenderly grooming along the pillowy pad.

The dragomutt's eyes half-lidded with delight as he traced the textured toe-pad, muzzling over the digit to suckle slowly and groan, he glanced up at the shockingly dominant hero, seeing the momentary ebbing of the delighted shock, and the settling of that shaded grin, that other side of him that.. it wasn't warring, it was simply enjoying. They both were. He was, too. Beastmaster thought with glowing cheeks as he felt the aching restriction of his costume straining at his ignored length. His muzzle slid from one toe to the next, gasping in a dopey breath before he began suckling and grinding his tongue along the broad toe liberally. He could feel the contented rumble from the hero reverberating through that digit, and glanced up at Morpheus' own rather unabashed tent. The cling of the bio-mesh suit doing little to hide the broad, humanoid shape of it.. The dragomutt swallowed a pooling of saliva, and slipped from those toes to nuzzle and begin grooming his tongue in long, succulent arcs of the hefty sole, kissing towards the end of every slather.

Morpheus let a shudder of delight snake up his spine, rewarding sensations abundant from without and within. Though the domination was scarcely his own work by this point. The villain had given himself over to his task, servicing him, as was his position. The soft, warm brush of that tongue along his broad paws as he switched them slowly over the minutes, made him grin. He was certain if Beastmaster could employ himself in such a fashion, he'd have been a rich dragon-creature indeed. Little though such a job existed. What a waste of your thoughts. Indulge, enjoy, savour him. Look how he helps himself. Take him further, he is your toy. And he knows it! Interjected the thought of that shadowy otherside of him.

With his leg bent as it was, the hero gazed through the haze of his hedonism at the span between the dragon, and his own length, and the otherside purred. It envisioned with mind-spinning clarity those soft lips, that eager tongue servicing him, enfolding every turgid, aching inch.. He nearly managed to resist, but the pudgy dragomutt slipped his muzzle up from that paw, letting it brush aside, which for a moment incensed that shadowy otherself. How dare he neglect what he had been gifted-

And Beastmaster's muzzle pressed against the broad bulge of the leatheresque suit. Nuzzling slowly beneath weighty balls, letting them drape and rest over his face, he stirred from side to side, indulging the heat of the hero against him, those powerful thighs shifting, and tensing in to hold his face in place as the hero rolled his hips, and ground the engorged weight of his snugly clad balls over the dragon's muzzle. Beastmaster's thick tail thumped and snaked about the rough ground as he worked in tandem with the hybrid's indulging motions. The broad balls smooshing over his muzzle, conforming about his snout for several delectable moments, before the leather seemed to unravel, and unwrap that hefty girth. The velvety heat of those balls as they rested freely on the villain's face coaxed his tongue anew to wash along them. His lips cupping and nursing gently as he lavished heatedly over the flesh, whilst the thick heat of the hero's girth draped weightily over his forehead and ears.

The flesh ground slowly, pulsing with the hero's heavy heartbeat, the flesh teasing along his mane as it displaced his hood easily. Smearing the odd line of pre through the dragon's fur, Morpheus grinned. He could feel the fade of that other self, that coaxing voice that roused from so deep within.. And turning his attentions from it, back to the dragon, blushing nearly scarlet as he brushed his muzzle about that sizeable girth, the hyenid nodded. One broad hand slid under Beastmaster's chin, and slowly drew the smaller male back. The dragomutt's tongue extended to keep teasing those balls until they were out of reach, and the tip of the broad girth rested before his face. Without pause that tongue cupped beneath, and he sank forward, eyes giving a delighted flutter as his jaws stretched over the sizeable shaft.

Shivering softly as the silken heat slid like a satin glove over his shaft, the hero groaned lowly and panted, as he reclined to let the dragon savor his task. The keen muzzle dipped inexorably, until he all but kissed the base of that shaft, and drew back, starting to languidly nurse and slather over the pulsing length. There was no hurry in the villain's mind as he bobbed slowly. Just delighting in that thick weight spreading his muzzle, bulging his throat, whilst the hero's thick legs shifted to either side of him, one tilting to reward him with a broad-padded sole mooshing against his own aching groin. Slowly it tilted and rocked, pumping gently in time with the dragon's languid muzzling, the supple sole conforming about his length, toes squeezing gently, eliciting low rumbling noises from him.

Minutes seemed to drizzle by as the hero relaxed in that rather savorable position. His grin wide and lazy, he lidded his own masked eyes to indulge as he had been bidden to. The villain had been well dominated, and conformed well to his task.. But, warned his rational mind, struggling through the thick haze of pleasure, people will be looking for him. Morpheus gave a soft groan, completely unrelated to the muzzle holding its position about the base of his cock, that slick, velvety throat swallowing, rippling about the head of his shaft. This was the last building he'd tackled the villain into. The police would be coming soon. ..Though, not nearly as soon as he was, he realized.

As did the dragon, picking up the keen pulsing of that shaft. The slow tautening of those heavy balls. His hands slowly lifted to grope over them, thumbing the curve of the velvety stones, whilst he picked up his pace about that shaft. The press of one of the enlarged hero's hands atop his head guided his motions as Morpheus grit his teeth, the hulking form hunched, his breathing tensing, catching under the stretched, bright-blue 'M' of his uniform..

Before the dragon thumped his tail as he kept swallowing over the head as it began gushing with a copious potency that he almost struggled to keep up with. The hero growled throatily, but let no more than that escape him as his body jerked and thrust and bumped those weighty balls against Beastmaster's chin. He held his position for several long moments, emptying every drop he could muster into the dragon, before he sagged, and finally permitted Beastmaster to draw back off his shaft with a gasp for air. The noise brought a faint smile to the spun-out hero, licking his lips gently and panting as he looked down to his adversary, wiping his lips, and blushing, glimpsing up to him with an odd gaze on his face. Something.. hopeful? Awed..? Appreciative? Well, that last one wasn't going to last, for sure. The hero mused as he scooped a hand down to snag his foe's ankles.

The villain blinked with confusion, panting and wiping his lips, before 'ack!'ing as the hero dragged him closer, tugging him onto his back and stooping over his feet. There was a faint pause, as if words stewed in Morpheus' mind, but when he opened his muzzle, it wasn't to impart them. They simply gaped and clamped over the dragomutt's ankles, tongue curling as fluidly and flexibly as the villain's had embraced his length. And recognition kindled under Beastmaster's mask, as the hero began to lunge and swallow with a keen ravenous hunger that dragged inches of him into the thick, slimey heat at a time.

'Sto-' He began to shout, feeling just enough grasp of himself to try and employ his powers again, before a broad foot smooshed over his face again. The crouching hero stared down at the villain with a raise of his eyebrows, suckling along his knees and thighs, swallowing casually to drain the broadening hips in past the curve of his tongue as he stooped.

The villain's face burned as the broad paw smothered him easily. Toes curled to silence him, before the hero slowly adjusted his grip, grasping Beastmaster's scrambling arms with one broad hand, and shifting his foot aside for his thick hand instead. He could nearly hold the dragon's whole head in his grasp, grinning as he straightened the pudgy villain overhead, and let him sink down slowly.

Staring down, the hapless villain cursed silently, recognising the hero to be wholly himself. Justice and all that. He made a better beast. Wild and unabashed, and open and wanton, and big. The villain winced for the heat in his own face, thinking of the great hero tromping over him, pressing him down under those thick feet and boots, pressing him to dote on him... He squirmed his frustations as his goodtimes were rapidly cutshort and dropped deep in that rippling gullet: the stifling heat cloying up and soaking through his costume and fur, whilst the powerful walls rippled and squeezed. Instinctive, rather than indulgent, but poignantly tight in wrapping every inch of the squirming, bucking dragomutt.

Arching and trying to wriggle his head free, the villain winced as that paw was soon replaced by the hero's broad tongue, slathering messily along his cheek and curling like a thick, sticky ribbon about his muzzle before the hand drew free, leaving him staring up from the depths of those jaws. Thick squishes percolated up about him as he struggled. His broad feet squelching into the floor of the hero's gut, as Morpheus slowly closed his jaws about the villain's head. His fangs clicking shut neatly just beyond Beastmaster's snout, before he took one final, firm swallow to drag his foe down in one long, rolling wave of flesh, compacting and contorting him into the roiling andrippling embrace of his stomach.

Glancing about as the struggles picked up under the tautness of his uniform, Morpheus puffed out a breath, trying to neaten himself up. Adjusting his outfit to better support the villain, and cover up their earlier activities, he felt the blush in his own cheeks as he considered all that he had done. No, all that he had been coaxed to do. Wanted to do. Whispered the last remnants of that animal voice within the depths of his mind. Drawing on his boots, the hero tensed his gut about the dragon to compress him in his gut to limit his ability to employ his powers as he lifted off the ground, levitating. His gut gave a low, burbling gurgle that kicked up the villain's frantic struggles. A low belch percolated up past his lips from the frantic motions as the hero kneaded a hand over his distended middle.

Well, maybe he could wait a -little- longer before he handed the villain over to the police.