A Rat's Ass

Treek perked his little ears up as far as they could go and listened intently. Not a sound disturbed the silence of the sleeping castle. Gathering his courage, he exited the study and scurried down the dark hallway. The thick carpet that ran down the center of the corridor muffled the sound of his clawed feet and the darkness did not impede his vision, but despite this he felt jittery. It was still unclear to him why a humble night runner had been chosen for the task of stealing the plans of the man-things’ latest ship design. Treek, in particular, was a most unlikely candidate, his lighter fur making him exceptionally poor at sneaking. The dainty, tan-colored little rat had long been his pack leader’s favourite, and until tonight his protector had always used his influence to shield him from the truly dangerous assignments. He was starting to suspect that the older skaven had finally tired of his toy and had ‘volunteered’ him for a job he was not expected to survive. Yet, against all odds, Treek was now clutching the precious parchments in his paw. A few more turns and stairs and he would finally reach the cellars and the old drainage tunnel which connected to the sewers. Surely the clan chief would be very pleased, and with some luck he would even take Treek under his wing. Then it would be his boss’s turn to go on a suicide mission!

His pleasant train of thought was interrupted by the clatter of heavy boots on wooden boards ahead of him. Soldiers were coming his way. He turned around to retrace his steps and felt his heart freeze in mid-beat, a flickering light had appeared around the corner he had just come from, blocking his escape. Terror gripped his puny chest. He threw open the nearest door and dashed into the room beyond.

Treek remained paralyzed as the footsteps outside grew closer and halted in front of his hiding place. A shaft of light shone from under the room’s door and the skaven felt his musk glands clench when his ears picked up several low grumbling voices on the other side. The longest seconds of his short life ticked by before the patrol finally moved on.

The rat breathed a silent sigh of relief and looked around him. He was in a small room, unfurnished except for a big trunk full of clothes and a few discarded wicker baskets. Not wishing to linger, he eased the door open and peeked into the hallway. The dreaded stench of man-things filled his nostrils, and he heard voices echoing from elsewhere in the building. Panic churned his stomach. What if there were more guards between him and the exit? He doubted he could fight or run past them. Like most skaven he was of a lithe build but the extra rations and comfortable life had made him plump around the hips, buttocks and thighs. His well-rounded bottom had served him well in the past but now Treek wished he had spent more time training and less time eating. He gnawed on his tail nervously until his eyes fell on the trunk.

The door creaked open and a strange figure stepped out. Treek looked around and took a few hesitant steps. His naked body was hidden under an ample dress and a long headscarf covered most of his pointy face. He had wrapped his tail around his waist and in his arms he clutched a basket filled with clothes, including his own. Two balls of yarn tied around his bosom completed his disguise. He dearly hoped that, from a distance, he would be mistaken for one of the breeders that the man-things apparently kept as servants. Despite his extreme nervousness, he felt a tingle of excitement in his belly. A draught of cold air swirled under his dress, caressing his exposed little hole. His testicles retracted from the chill and fear.

Treek did not come across any more patrols as he made his way down the hallways and then down the stairs and into the kitchen and cellars, his claws clicking on the bare floor. He was going to make it! The skaven accelerated his pace but then stopped, nose twitching. A delicious smell was wafting from the pantry. Treek turned and moved toward the door, as if dragged by an invisible force. Inside was a scene beyond his wildest dreams. He briefly hesitated, but soon he was stuffing his maw and basket with sausages and cheese. Lost in his bliss, he did not hear the soft pit-patting of naked feet creeping up behind him.

“You thieving little magpie,” a gruff voice broke out.

Treek almost choked on a half-chewed piece of ham and his basket dropped from his hands, spilling clothes and delicacies on the floor. Trembling, the skaven turned his head slowly, expecting a cruel sword to cleave his skull in two. To his surprise, standing behind him was a small, squat man-thing with a wide ruddy face and hairy feet. His skin was shiny with sweat and he reeked of something that smelled a lot like skavenbrew. The man-thing grinned a goofy grin and swayed back and forth on his short legs, as if struggling to keep his balance.

“Thought you could sneak into Pervick’s lair and steal his treasures?”

Unsure of what to answer, Treek kept his head down, the semi-darkness hiding his features.

“You’re a shy one, eh? Never seen you before,” the halfling mumbled. “Let me have a feel,” he added, groping the rat’s fleshy bottom through his dress.

The unexpected contact made the skaven squeak and jump. Startled, Pervick hiccuped and drew back.

“I’m sorry m’lady, I’m just a poor servant like you,” he slurred. “Keep the food, I swear I won’t tell anyone.”

“Short-thing most kind-kind,” mumbled the rat, his back still turned.

The halfling laughed and rested his hands on Treek’s hips, “Maybe you could be kind-kind to me too?”

The rodent gasped but did not fight back, even when the rough, drunken hands cupped his round backside and squeezed his buttocks for several long seconds. Reluctantly letting go of Treek’s ass cheeks, the halfling wrapped his arms around his waist and caressed his soft belly. The rat felt a broad chest bumping up against his back and something else pressing against his rump.

“Want to try some sausage from the Moot? We make them thick and hearty.”

Treek’s heart pounded in his chest. He had never been so terrified in his life but to his dismay his own prickhead was now poking from its sheath and pressing against the coarse fabric of his dress. He made a squealing sound that the halfling took as a yes. The groping hands slowly moved towards the skaven’s crotch. Realizing what would happen if the fingers of his drunken lover closed around his now fully-erect cock, Treek slapped the wrist away. The halfling was caught off-guard for a second, then laughed.

“Keeping your flower intact for another lad, eh? Maybe we can try the back entrance?”

Thoughts were racing in Treek’s increasingly confused brain, he suddenly remembered the mucky tunnels and his escape plan.

“Yes-yes, up the sewage pipe! Hurry-quick.”

“You talk dirty for a virgin,” the halfling giggled stupidly. He unfastened his pants with one hand and lifted Treek’s dress up to his buttocks with the other before making him bend over. His eyes were clouded by a lusty mist, and he did not notice that the shapely thighs and cheeks were covered in fine fur. The rat heard him spit, followed by a schlicking sound. A clumsy, wet finger rubbed his pink pucker and smeared it with saliva.

“Ready or not, here I come!”

Treek let out a half-strangled croak as his delicate tailhole was unceremoniously rammed. His master’s private lessons had not prepared him for this! Skaven were long and slender, like pencils. This was like a tree stump. Pervick pushed himself deep, partially withdrew and slammed back in, all the while grunting and groaning. Tears pricked the skaven’s red eyes as his barely-lubricated ring was reamed mercilessly, his sphincter muscles stretched to the limit by the thick shaft. Despite the burning sensation that radiated from his backside, his thin cock was throbbing and spurting a clear stream of fluid that soaked his crotch. Emboldened by the squeaks and moans, the sweat-drenched halfling clutched the rodent’s hips and pounded faster, the small room filling with the sound of his beast-like breathing and with the wet squelching noises from Treek’s ass. With one last powerful surge, he buried himself to the hilt and came. The skaven felt several long, hard jets of hot semen douse the fire in his rectum. An orgasmic feeling started from his prostate and pulsed through his loins, his balls and his sex. Treek squealed in forced ecstasy as his cock bolted and sprayed watery seed all over the front of his dress.

They remained joined for a few seconds, panting and lost in the afterglow. “Another mountain conquered,” the halfling finally grumbled. He started withdrawing his still-rigid member, lost his balance and collapsed, dragging Treek with him to the ground. Panicking, the skaven struggled to untangle himself before realizing that Pervick was snorting, fast asleep.

Treek staggered to his feet, stunned. Warm semen began to seep from his sore asshole and run down his naked thighs. It took a few moments for him to regain his senses and fully grasp the situation he was in. Quickly, he got down on all fours and licked the mess on the halfling’s dick and on the floor. Having disposed of the evidence, he bundled the discarded clothes, papers and victuals in his basket and waddled, legs wide apart, towards the safety of the tunnels.

“So, you're telling me that someone managed to sneak past your men, break into my own office, steal the plans and disappear without a trace?” the admiral said, still fuming.

“Yes, sir,” the captain spluttered, “The dogs picked up a trail but it led to the larder. Inside, we found the kitchen scullion, drunk and lying in his own filth. He only said some nonsense about a wench with a cute mousy face.”

“Bring him here at once, he has some explaining to do.”

“Brave-brave Treek has pleasantly surprised me,” the warlord chuckled as he pocketed the plans, “I had my doubts but you succeeded where my best gutter runners failed miserably.”

Treek remained absorbed in the contemplation of his pink feet, his hands fiddling with the folds of his filth-encrusted gown. It should have been his hour of glory but his ears were red from embarrassment. The smell of foreign cum, as well as his own, was wafting from his body and had been picked up by every skaven he had come across in the tunnels of the warren. He couldn’t help but jump slightly when the warlord circled around him and started unfastening his dress.

“Surely these unsuspected talents would be better employed in my service. But first, tell-explain again how you fooled that short-thing, and omit no detail.”

Treek blushed as the dress slipped from his shoulders and fell to the floor, leaving his pale fur bare. “Yes-yes master,” he said softly, “Treek will show you exactly what happened.”