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A year had passed since Myrina, greatest warrior of her tribe and now chieftain, had crossed paths with the stranger of fuzz and muscle and long hair. A language barrier had separated them but the art of sex was, she believed, the clearest diplomatic method. Going by that metric, he was a close friend to her and her tribe.

Myrina had welcomed the stranger into her village and her body. She had given him everything he could possibly want from a sexually voracious savage with intense curves and an appetite for the male form, but still he had left her. Myrina was unused to being rejected and cast aside. Within the small village in the amazonian jungle her tribe inhabited, Myrina was the most desirable woman due to her figure and her power. Chieftain was her formal title, but the worship she received from virile males likened her to royalty or godhood.

Under Myrina's guidance, the tribe enjoyed great times. Its population grew. Game was plentiful. Myrina ceased to think of the stranger except in guarded moments, such as she went down for sleep in her hut, lying comfortably on pelts she had skinned and cured for herself. In those times, Myrina allowed her thoughts to drift to the stranger. The stranger who she could not understand but who she craved now for how incredibly alien he was to her, a man from the outside world who warranted more than intimidation or a spear through the face.

Myrina thought of him now as she waited for sleep. The rain poured outside of her hut in the trees but the industry of her small tribe went on around and beneath her. She had awoken with the sun, had killed many beasts for her tribe, and now tried to sleep.

The stranger, she thought in her tribal tongue. Cool fingers, leathery from work, slid down her belly. Passed scars from tooth and claw, found her loins. She touched herself, shivered.

The stranger of fuzz and muscle, she thought, recalling him in her mind, not knowing that he thought of her just often and with frequent disbelief that something such as her could exist in the wild.

Myrina did not know that his strange metal bird was landing near her jungle again. Myrina did not know she would have him again this time tomorrow.

The crocodile moved silently on the soft ground. With her was an entourage of three males and one female, all members of her tribe. They followed like children after their mother. Each wielded a spear tipped with a spike of bone. Myrina's spear gleamed a pale red, its shaft stained with the blood of dozens of beasts. Her students had yet to christen their spears in the lifeblood of the hunt, but under her tutelage, they soon would.

Torrential rains the night before had turned dirt and composting vegetation into a marsh. Myrina's legs were blackened by muck up to the knees. The crocodiles had no way of knowing, but these frequent treks into mud made their hide soft and sensuous. Trendy people from the stranger's world would have killed for all-natural treatments which the savages simply received as part of their work.

Myrina herself was a smooth and soft creature. Feminine yet muscular due to a lifetime of work, she was unbearably beautiful - an unattainable jewel to any in the modern world who happened to glimpse her. Anybody but the stranger who was now on a collision course with her hunting party.

The brush rustled. Myrina lowered her naked form into the muck until only her head could be seen. Her entourage did as she did, made themselves nearly invisible in the miniature swamp the rains had created and which the sun would eventually dry out. She listened closely, unmoving save for blinking eyes. Left went the prey, movements sluggish in the marsh. It would be a fine first kill. She lifted a blackened hand from the mud and gestured to the male at her side.

"Cohsa, go," she said quietly in the tongue of the tribe.

All of them were ready for her order, Cohsa no exception. He slithered through the loose earth, his spear clutched tightly. He would make Myrina proud and then, perhaps, he would be the one to breed her. Everybody in the village knew she sought a strong male to make her fat with children, ones which would be the finest hunters and warriors the jungle ever knew. He hoped it would be him, just as every other male in the village hoped for the same.

The crocodile saw his quarry. His heart stopped for a moment. What he saw was not prey, but an outsider. Cohsa had never seen anybody from outside the village. To him they existed only in folklore, tall tales spun by the old chieftain - and by Myrina herself who spoke at times of one particular outsider.

Cohsa knew he must make his chieftain proud if he hoped to lie with her. He swam through the mud, his snout cutting the loose earth like an arrowhead. The outsider had a weapon in his fingers, something glinting and visibly deadly for the way it sliced through vines and shoots. He was muttering to himself, speaking a language Cohsa could not understand. And he was heading towards the village.

The crocodile slithered out of the muck and pulled himself up to firmer ground roughly twenty feet behind the stranger. Young muscles wiry and mighty, Cohsa hefted his spear and readied it for a throw. Clods of muddy earth fell from its shaft and wetly hit the ground.

The stranger looked back. He saw the spear, saw the mud-covered body and screamed. It was not a warrior's cry but a panicked yowl. Cohsa threw the spear but the stranger fell back, his behind hitting the ground. The spear rushed over his head and pierced the space occupied a second before by his chest.

Cohsa lunged onto the outsider, screaming a war cry as if to show the stranger how it was done, calling the others to his aid. His muddy, scaly hands went for the throat and the long black hair. He yanked the latter, squeezed the former. A better warrior would have gone for the eyes immediately but Cohsa was fresh to the hunt. He knew the neck was important and the hair could incapacitate.

The stranger was terrified but strong. He grabbed Cohsa in burly paws and hurled him to the side. Adrenaline powered his panicked maneuver but the crocodile was quick to leap back into the fray. Cohsa was barely an adult, still full of youthful energy. He was ready to fight, to die if he had to, all for his tribe and his village. He hefted a jagged rock as big as a melon, held it high above his head. The stranger's paws flew out, fingers fanned imploringly, and shouted in his unintelligible tongue.

"For the chieftain!" Cohsa exclaimed.

Myrina's voice fiercely rang out in the humid air. "Cohsa! No! Leave him!" The fury in her voice cowed him, turning him back into a child. He dropped the rock and it landed point-down, embedding itself in the firm earth. He turned his back on the outsider and faced his oncoming chieftain with worry in his features.

The stranger was quick to yank Cohsa's ankles. He sent the young tribal to the ground. Now it was the stranger who was atop Cohsa, knee in the boy's chest, primal terror in his eyes but satisfaction - victory! - in his grin. His muscular chest rapidly heaved, his heart racing.

Myrina put eyes on the scene and needed less than a second to process it. The stranger had returned and had narrowly avoided becoming prey. And had, in fact, made prey of one of her promising students.

Elation filled her. Not only had the stranger returned, but he was strong. He had bested one of her most promising students. She lifted him by the shoulders, spun him around, and grinned toothily at him.

"You returned!" she cried in her opaque language.

His name was Kahnso - but he was the stranger just as she was the crocodile to him in his own tongue. He said something in reply and she understood none of it, but she grasped the relief in both his tone and expression. She hugged him close to her thick, muddy body and said, "My stranger has returned! My stranger of fuzz and muscle and long hair."

Myrina's hunters crowded around the stranger. They eyed him suspiciously, caution heavy in their minds, caution the state of mind which prevented many deaths in the unforgiving jungle.

But they began to soften, for this was Myrina's stranger, the outsider she spoke of. He was so fuzzy, so oddly-dressed. All of them were fascinated, though none would dare engage him without her blessing.

The chieftain brushed past Kahnso, large breasts streaking mud across his shirt. She dragged him by his wrist and urged as she went, "This way! Come to the village! Return to my hut with me, stranger, and let us finish what we started!"

Kahnso said something which Myrina found agreeable. She went purely off of his body language and his tone and seemed to find success in reading him. "Yes," she agreed, pulling him along a path at times submerged in muck. He emerged from a muddy wade with designer jeans ruined and a sour expression on his face. He said something to her and she noted the anger in his voice.

"Why do you wear these?" asked Myrina, hands touching his jeans. For a moment, she thought his interested expression indicated understanding. Then he touched her muddy breasts, one tremendous globe in either paw.

The crocodile grinned, grabbed his shoulders, pulled him in closer. "Touch me, yes," she cooed and tilted back her head somewhat. She bravely bared her neck to the stranger she so openly craved.

It was Myrina he had returned for and Kahnso was never one to turn down the opportunity for sex. He leaned in swiftly, lips and overlarge saber fangs touching her neck. He nipped, growled, squeezed her tits until the mud caking them sluiced through his fingers.

"Yes, yes, good strong male," Myrina huffed, tail swaying. The gold bangle on its tapering stalk glinted in the sunlight. She felt over the broad shapes of his shoulders. She thought as she caressed him, such a strong male, so pretty, so pampered. Her nails dug into the fabric, slightly into flesh.

Kahnso hissed, pushed flush to her and flattened her breasts somewhat.

Myrina hissed back to him, spoke to him, "You can handle some pain. You must if you're going to make a good mate." With the strength a hard life in the jungle had blessed her with, Myrina ripped into Kahnso's shirt and pulled it off of him in two ragged halves.

Kahnso said something in protest but it was a mate's position to listen, not question. She felt around his behind now and groped his buttocks - very firm, so strong - and then his tail which was large and soft, the mud no bother to her. She tried to shred the denim but succeeded in only plunging her claws through the back pockets. Her claws stabbed into his ass cheeks and he yelped.

Again Kahnso said something to her. He was quite incensed now. To a creature like Myrina who could intuit the faintest scents and signals, his humiliated anger was obvious. She smiled and bumped her lips to his jowls in the hopes a kiss would mollify him. It seemed to do just that.

Now Kahnso took off the jeans. He muttered as he did so. Myrina thought he looked much better now that he was naked with her. All he wore was his little necklace, its shape that of a star. The crocodile left it, for she had immense respect for decoration.

Within Myrina's tribe, golden decorations were used to denote status. Myrina, with her plethora of piercings and bangles all over her body, was unquestionably the alpha hunter as well as the chieftain. That the stranger also decorated himself in gold was auspicious to Myrina who believed, and was correct in a way, that Kahnso was an alpha in his own tribe.

Kahnso picked up his muddy jeans and dejectedly studied their ruined fabric. He dropped them again, left them with the shredded shirt, and cracked an abashed down at Myrina. He said something, a question of some kind.

"You do not need those coverings, why would you cover this body?" the crocodile asked him in return. Her hands palmed him and streaked mud like warpaint across his muscular breast. "Now come. Follow, follow."

The village was not far but Kahnso's was led astray by the sound of rushing water. He stopped and pointed toward the water, then his muddy fur as he met Myrina's skeptical gaze.

Understanding dawned on her. She led him off the path and through the jungle to the source of the noise. A small but beautiful waterfall fed into a deep, blue basin, its bowl comprised of loose earth and boulders polished by centuries of flowing water. She took him to the edge of the basin, sat on one of the flatter boulders, then slid into the water feet first.

Kahnso watched her vanish beneath the rippling water only to emerge seconds later with her black hair plastered to her neck. Wet mud streaked off of her hide and revealed the elegant greens beneath. She called him, beckoned too.

Myrina's stranger sprinted up the boulders. He jumped off of the flattest one, right at its lip. With the form of a dolphin, he pierced the water, arced under the surface and left a wake of bubbles and loosening mud. He came back up with a splash and a gasp and wiped his hair out of his eyes.

She waded over and pressed close to him in the water. She kissed him, was kissed back. She said, "You enjoy the water, excellent. I love to come here."

He smiled at her tone and her closeness. His paws felt down her body and pushed loose earth off of her hide. He reached especially for her buttocks. He kneaded them, rubbed them beneath the shimmering water.

The crocodile was prideful of her wide, green ass which she believed complemented her heavy breasts and breeder's hips. It was fitting that she, such a beautiful creature, should lay claim to the beautiful stranger who came to her jungle twice now. She felt behind him but also up under him, her hands grabbing his scrotum from behind and fondling what was now hers. The plumpness pleased her; he had much seed to give.

The fox and the crocodile waded and bobbed together for some time, only fondling and squeezing and washing each other clean of the mud.

Myrina's hunters-in-training watched with stealth from the vegetation. She noticed them but said nothing. It was her intent to show everybody in the village the mate she had selected. There was no reason to hide him even for a second.

Myrina's hands brushed Kahnso's exposed penis. The slow molestation beneath the water had steadily aroused him, had drawn out the entirety of his large red cock. The size of Kahnso's penis had been lost to her but now the memories came back. Soreness but utter satisfaction sprang into her mind.

"Come with me. Come over here," Myrina cooed as she paddled back from him. Her fingers slid off his penis as she drifted too far away to hold onto it. She waded, legs pushing, the tops of her breasts bobbing below her snout.

Kahnso paddled after her with none of the grace his dive and resurface exhibited. His expression was hungry. Myrina loved to see such desire in her mate.

At last the crocodile bumped the boulders. She pulled herself up and planted her wide bottom on a flat boulder. As Kahnso neared she parted her legs and let him glimpse the line of pink deep between her formidable thighs.

Though all of her body glinted right now, it seemed to Kahnso's gaze that the crocodile's loins glinted especially. He pushed his snout between her thighs and slobbered the entire surface of her vulva, his slurp uncouth but deeply appreciated by Myrina. This beauty of the Amazon had never left his mind and he made his devotion clear.

Myrina huffed for him. Long pearly teeth gleamed in her grin. She parted the lips of her cunt for him with two digits and so opened a musky pink yawn before Kahnso's nostrils. Kahnso shuddered as he smelled her. He grinned back at her then, his eyes understanding as his mouth spoke lusty, unknowable words.

"It's my time to breed," Myrina pointlessly explained. She let go of her pussylips, touched Kahnso's ears, slid her hands through his wet hair. While she petted him, he split her for himself and dragged his tongue through the pink flesh within. The crocodile tensed and hissed. Her toes splayed wide and her tail thumped the boulder. The sound it made was a noisy slap echoing so far that it startled birds of paradise from their branches. "Oh yes, yes, use the tongue, yes," cooed Myrina, the tone crooning and hot, exultation plain as day to the fox ignorant of her language.

In the civilized world Kahnso's tongue let him sing and brought him millions of dollars. Here it made Myrina sing, caused the crocodile to croon and huff and tug at his ears the way she pulled her spear from the carcasses of her kills. Her thick legs curled around his neck, ankles crossed over his back in a nearly perfect X, thighs bunching in around the sides of his head. And Kahnso lapped at her, tongued her, preened her open snatch with his broad pink tongue. The musky wetness which drooled from her ready vagina was nectar of the gods to Kahnso, a man who would eat pussy any day of the month, blood or smell nothing to the hungry fox.

His tongue dug into her and scooped at her insides like he was a dog drinking from a basin. Myrina yowled and hissed, her hands going to her breasts, to pert nipples decorated with rings. She tugged, twisted her nipples and sent lances of pleasurepain racing up her spine. Her thighs tightened. The fox wheezed. Then his jowly lips clapped around her box, his mouth sucking the folds, tongue dangling like a necktie and lapping at her anus and perineum, slathering erotic flesh without discretion.

Myrina's warriors-in-training watched, the males gaining jealous erections at the sight of their chief and most desirable female hissing in ecstasy for the fuzzy one. Two stooped to masturbation to abate their jealousy. The others left to finish the hunt. They would return to the village well after Kahnso and Myrina with a pair of fat boars to feast upon.

"Yes, oh yes, yes, yes," bleated Myrina, letting the weakness seep into her lustful voice. She could be weak for this man and this man alone, the Stranger, the Fuzzy One who she would make her mate. Her pampered pet with whom she would sire oh so many warriors, and they would be beautiful creatures, just like he was - and just like she was. Myrina was acutely aware of her own perfect beauty.

Her tough fingers curled around his head possessively. Her thighs cinched tighter and her toe claws pricked his back, digging small, bloodless divots beneath the fur. With her grip on his head, she pulled him greedily inwards. His teeth ground on her cunt, fangs pushing especially into the lips. And in went his tongue, slathering hard and deep within the musky channel of her vagina, loping inside of her with the smoothness of a tongue but the cleverness of a digit.

Thighs clutching down on his neck, cutting air and blood thin. Kahnso wheezed. His eyes bulged in a way he had experienced only once before when an angry husband - a Clydesdale - caught Kahnso in the act with his wife. The stallion had wrenched on Kahnso's neck so powerfully that the fox was certain his head would pop like a zit. Kahnso had never felt so tiny in all his life, the seven-foot-two beast reduced to a writhing teenager by an enormous stallion.

Kahnso thought only fleetingly of that day so long ago. His hunger for Myrina outstripped the cinching pain. He had never performed erotic asphyxiation in his life (I've seen what happens when you mix celebrities with belts he'd told a woman who suggested adding it to their evening) but now he saw some of the appeal. His head was pounding, yes, but his senses had been elevated the way only exceptional batches of LSD usually provided. He could taste and smell every nuance of her deep, womanly musk. Could feel every cord of muscle, every capillary pulsing in the dark pink cove of her vagina. And his penis was extremely hard.

The crocodile's fingers sluiced through Kahnso's hair, claws raking his scalp. Runnels of blood oozed from the scrapes. Kahnso noticed the pain only dimly. He was latched onto Myrina, mouthing her vulva, slathering her on the inside. Her wetness meshed with his slobber and made a great sticky mess. It oozed down his chin and over the rocks, lost the same way her gasping, shrieking cries faded into the jungle's din. She grimaced, her teeth all glinting like knives up to the gum, a pleasured rictus as she came.

A sultry heat erupted from the crocodile's sex. Kahnso's tongue was coated in her squirt, his mouth watered by it. His tongue slunk back like a tape measure and his mouth snapped shut, then swallowed. He nuzzled into her throbbing loins, nosing into the thick wetness, smelling it, breathing her in with what little airflow he had. His bloodshot eyes gazed up to her, looking past gigantic green breasts at the savage beauty of her features - incredibly sexual with release, beautiful to observe in any circumstance. He felt that if he died there, his breath choked out of him or his neck snapped by her murderous thighs, he would leave the world happy.

Then the crocodile let off and Kahnso breathed hoarsely. He pawed at the smooth rocks and her kneecaps, his thudding headache subsiding like a thunderstorm fading off. Tiredly, he nuzzled into her thighs, muzzle perilously close to her sex. There was no eroticism in the nuzzle.

Myrina petted his head. "My apologies, but you were so good," she spoke softly. Petting still, stroking wet black hair. "So good, so good..."

Kahnso listened to the tone and swam in the sweetness of her meaningless words. He kissed her thigh, nosed her sex tiredly, and waded in the basin. His erection was gone.

"Come. Come along," urged Myrina in a quiet voice. She was warm and dozy in her afterglow. She stood on shaky legs and grinned down at her male. She helped to pull him up and out of the water, and then she walked with him all the way back to her village.

Alone, Kahnso would have been mauled a dozen times by tribals lurking in the undergrowth. Emerald eyes peering from the bushes glinted cautiously. Whenever Kahnso spotted one, he pressed in close to Myrina.

The crocodile caressed him like the pet that he was. "You are safe," she intoned, a motherly quality to her voice. "With me, you are safe."

Within the sprawling village, all wished to see the naked stranger. Males studied him cautiously, at times contemptuously, for they could see the obvious love and lust in their chief's eyes just as plainly as they could see the burning orb of the sun. The females were much less judgmental. In close they crept, smiles on their pretty snouts, interest in their eyes.

Myrina caught Kahnso smiling back at them. Looking at them sexually. She frowned and that alone was enough to push back the females. Inside of the same few seconds, she knocked Kahnso down into the felled leaves and wooden planks which made up the narrow roads of her village. She straddled him, glared to him, nose to nose and reproach in her eyes.

Kahnso said something, his tone deferential. His ears splayed down and Myrina recognized the submission. She kissed Kahnso and let him up. "I apologize for that," she said to him as she helped him to his feet, "but you belong to me." As much for the other females as for Kahnso, she warned, "Me alone."

Kahnso nodded to her graciously. He seemed to know what she meant when she meted out her punishment. He rubbed the bruise forming on his hip, and his eyes stayed noticeably away from the females, looking at their shins at best. How cowed he now was pleased Myrina immensely. She smiled and kissed him again.

"This fuzzy one," she called to her village, "is my stranger. I will take him as my mate! The Ritual of Bonding comes tonight after the meal. I shall pick two of my warriors to be my maidens." Her eyes scanned across the rapt masses of her villagers. Dozens of crocodiles looked upon her expectantly - looked at her alone, not Kahnso the fuzzy stranger. If he was to be her mate, so be it. Myrina had paid for the right to mate an outsider many times over.

They knelt and dipped their long snouts to Myrina. Myrina beamed a smile at their acceptance and obedience. Then she turned to Kahnso and kissed her naked fuzzy pet upon the cheek. "My mate-to-be," she cooed. "You are perfect."

The feast was enormous. Two fat and meaty boars fed Myrina, Kahnso, and the closest aides of the crocodile: her inner circle of hunters, the most veteran among them. Even cowed by Myrina as he was, Kahnso was powerless to avoid looking at them, for they were all female and all beautiful in the same scarred and muscular way as Myrina - though none were as breedably plump as she.

Myrina's hunter eyes surreptitiously followed the fox as she ate and laughed and enjoyed the feast. She noted every glance he stole at her naked warriors, memorized which ones he seemed to like best. The selection of her maidens was made before the feast was even halfway finished.

The night sky was prematurely dark under billowing thunderheads as the meal came to a close. Distant lightning split the skies, its rapport better felt than heard beneath the beating rain. The village's huts were waterproof; none of the pouring rain seeped in except for errant droplets whisked through the windows. The overall effect of Myrina's torch-lit treehouse in the storm was comforting to Kahnso. He sat placidly beside her, smiling when looked at, filling himself with spit-roasted boar and what amounted to a salad made of greens from around the village.

Myrina ordered the remains of the feast be cleaned up. Villagers glad to serve their benevolent chief cleaned up after Myrina and her inner circle. In a short time the warrior crocodiles and pampered fox were left alone in the open space of Myrina's den. Trophies of her greatest kills leered at them from the walls. Warm pelts of indistinguishable origin lined the floors. Myrina took Kahnso down into the musky pile of a pelt and touched his lips gently. "Now the ritual will begin," she whispered to him.

"You, and you," said Myrina then, indicating two of her warriors, those whose Kahnso's eyes had been most drawn to. Both plump, both muscular, both decorated - but no traits as pronounced as on Myrina herself. The rest left wordlessly, not scorned, merely accepting that they had not been chosen.

And so Kahnso found himself sitting upon the pelt. Myrina kneeling behind his back, her snout over his shoulder, kisses peppered on liberally. The two warriors kneeling before him, bowls of warpaint in their fingers. They smeared upon him the unknowable markings of their tribe, marking him as the Stranger and the Fuzzy One and the mate of the chief. They decorated his breast and cheeks and genitals and legs in the blood-red warpaint. Myrina ignoring his quiet queries, answering them only with kisses and nuzzles. All the while she told him that he was perfect, that he would be the best mate imaginable, and soon they would consummate the bond. The idea titillated her beyond measure.

Kahnso looked over himself, taking in the rich tapestry of swirls and lines and clawlike strokes covering his body. His long hair and overlarge fangs and muscles were all accentuated by the markings.

Myrina and her two warriors stood and gazed in admiration at the fox, the Fuzzy One. Myrina kissed him, full lips smooching his jowls, tongue swabbing his teeth. "You look perfect, oh yes you do," cooed the crocodile, tail swaying, heart fluttering. Her scaly fingers caressed him, running around and through the markings. Already the muddy dye was drying into the follicles; Myrina's strokes broke free a few dusty flakes.

She pushed him back, made him lie in the pelts. Stood over him, smiled, turned and knelt. Her loins brushed his, smooth crocodile hide on his furry sheath coaxing his penis free quickly. Myrina liked the suddenness, that ease with which he was ready to breed.

"Ready the brew," said Myrina softly. She guided Kahnso's penis inside of her and shuddered as its great red length pushed open her walls. Kahnso's paws found and clutched at her hips and wide green ass. "Touch me," cooed the crocodile, beginning to ride. "Touch me. Now we will own each other."

Myrina's hand-picked warriors readied a drink for Kahnso. Rainwater, a few tealike leaves and a scraping from a dark-colored mushroom were brewed together in a bowl, heated over a fire pit until bubbles began to form. By then Myrina was riding Kahnso smoothly and quickly, her breasts bouncing, toes curling. The lips of her vulva pushed on his great red knot.

"Here, my chief," one of the warriors said, and set the prepared concoction in reach.

"Thank you," Myrina cooed, pleasure high in her voice. "He is perfect. Just as I remember him."

Kahnso spoke something to Myrina, some bedroom speak if the tone was to be believed.

"Indeed," said Myrina. "Indeed, my Fuzzy One."

The potion cooled in time and was offered to Kahnso by one of the crocodile warriors. He gazed into the stone bowl at the caramel-colored liquid, wrinkled his nose at the odd smell. He looked at the crocodile with a challenging glare, one thick black eyebrow slightly arched.

Myrina looked back at him and smiled. "Drink," she urged, still riding. She nudged the bowl in the other crocodile's fingers, pushed it gently nearer his mouth. "Drink it."

Kahnso said something - a reluctant agreement, Myrina supposed, because he began to chug it down as the crocodile poured it. Some ran down his cheeks, cutting through the markings painted there. When it was gone he belched indelicately and Myrina chuckled.

No stranger to mind-altering substances, Kahnso was unsurprised by the high he began to feel. A lightness in the mind like a headrush but a swell in the genitals, a throb behind his eyes, blood vessels engorging to permit more fluid. Imperceptibly his penis swelled. His eyes saw more crisp colors, ears gained a new frequency of hearing, nose picked up on the baser elements of musk in the hunter's hut. Myrina's musk, her estrus smell.

He sat up, unsteady at first. He wrapped his arms around Myrina, kissed her neck, growled to her. The crocodile's bounces slowed, stopped, and then she rested upon him with a smile on her face and a glint in her eyes. The bonding brew always worked so quickly. Her mind raced, guessing at the savagery it would awaken in her fuzzy mate.

All over Myrina went his fingers, groping and feeling what he knew to be his and his alone. He smelled her neck, hair. He bit where her powerful jaws met with the rest of her skull and coaxed a gasp from her.

Now his paws found her legs, those plump and mighty thighs which earlier had tried to pop his head as if it had been a balloon. He gripped them fast, pulled them up and out and fell back with her as she gasped in shock, moaned in delight. Kahnso's strength seemed immeasurable. Myrina was practically weightless in his savage arms.

His feet braced on the floor and he fucked her, ramming his knot against the folds of her cunt, wrenching gasps and squeals from the hunter. His jowly lips drew back to bare a rictus of pleasure, a grin so wide it seemed its two edges would meet at the back of his skull. He said things to her, spoke evil lusty words she only knew the tone of. And she answered in kind, squealed her delight to him as the others watched, dumbstruck by the bestiality of the Fuzzy One and the deference of their chief.

Kahnso's arms cinched her legs tighter and his paws clasped behind her neck. He held her in discomfort, a sexual agony for the crocodile whose vulva suffered an incredible beating from the great drugged fox. Her eyes rolled back. She bit her lip, groaned for him, uttered sweet nothings in the tongue of her village as the Fuzzy Stranger gave her the mating her heated body required if it was to be fully satisfied.

Kahnso panted. Drool ran down his cheeks in loosely parallel lines. The flesh of his massive red cock was fatter now and its knot was of nearly incomprehensible size to the crocodile who had only felt a knot once before - his, in a gentler time. His balls swung like a bola, bound together by sinew and veins inside musky, furry flesh, fat with fertile seed the chief needed.

Still the others watched, jealousy now encroaching on their amazement. They moved in near, one following the other's lead, and they stole sniffs of Kahnso's scrotum, stole laps at its swinging meat. How lucky their chief was.

"Yes, yes! The breeding, the breeding is so wonderful, it is everything I expected!" yowled Myrina, her fetchingly scarred face dumb with overwhelming pleasure. Her hands pawed aimlessly at Kahnso's muscles, her only desire to feel his heaving, sweating body. "Oh yes, yes. Fuzzy One. So wonderful, yes..."

Hatefully sexual words from Kahnso came in counterpoint to Myrina's whimpering. His breath was frightfully haggard. He sounded like a horse ready to drop dead from exhaustion. His heart pounded like artillery, driving blood through the passages of his swollen muscles and flesh. Had Myrina not loved every moment of this he would have been raping her. Her pleasure meant nothing to him, he had regressed to the level of a beast she would have slain for a bounty of meat.

At last the fat red bulb of Kahnso's knot smashed home into Myrina but the fox's hips kept moving, trying to tug the bulb free and keep the sex going. He snarled, braying for her, his paws clawing at her neck and shoulders, slipping off her legs and plunging into her tremendous breasts. He flopped against the floor but he held Myrina tightly, and then the pleasured convulsions began, the great spasms of muscle as he shot into her fertile body and filled her with the outsider semen she desperately craved.

The warrior maidens showed tribute and worship to Kahnso as he filled their chief. They nuzzled his scrotum, tonguing and sucking and kissing the sack to show love to the seed within. Smelling him, tasting him, savoring every pulse as the glands within throbbed and forced their unique seed out into the wild.

It leaked from Myrina despite the plug of the knot, it gushed from her as she panted and gasped and yowled in exultant pleasure. She writhed atop Kahnso, feeling both safe and endangered atop her heaving, braying mate whose blood was still poisoned with the bonding brew.

But by then Kahnso's energy had been depleted. His seed was spread though his mind was still fogged with the jungle drug. He held Myrina closely - possessively. Passively he took the ongoing worship of the two crocodiles below, the beautiful warriors who showed him tribute.

Slowly the haze began to clear. Myrina still lay against him, satisfied and quietly hissing as twinges of pleasure struck her just so. The pair of amazons at last pulled away, their lips ruddy with the warpaint they had sucked off of Kahnso's genitals.

Kahnso said something to Myrina. There was a keening quality to his voice and his paws touched her breasts gently.

"You are fine," Myrina whispered. "Everything you have done tonight is perfect." And she stroked the curve of her belly, still smooth. Not for long.