Tradition often dictates the path of others' lives.
But what is 'tradition', really, other than a set of rules established by those who have the right to believe and govern 'what is best' for others?

In this world, there is nobody you should believe in more than yourself.
It is in this search for 'the self', that the hyena tribe define their leader, the one who rules above all.

An intrinsic knowledge of yourself, your own desires, and wants, is not something that will come with time, but experience.

And, all his life, a certain hyena father has obsessed over cubs.
He has not once ever tried to fight against this desire.

But everything comes to a head when he teaches his son about 'the bird and the bees'...

--
“A Manly Tradition”
Scene inspiration: https://e621.net/posts/2938773

It is natural for fathers to show their young how to masturbate. Watch how this father pistons his cock up and down in front of his child, not caring that his ropes of cum may hit his youngster. In fact, men don't care about this. Men just want to see their young covered in cum. It is only natural, once you've sired a boy, you'd definitely want to teach him all the joys and pleasure of sex.

This savannah is a peaceful place, where only the sound of crickets and the whistling wind can be heard, that pleases the ears. But, just a few paces away, you can hear the nastiest sloppy sound, followed by deep, vibrating, focused grunts.

It's a muscled hyena jerking off his fat uncut cock. Laying in the grass, his loincloth is swept away, revealing his hairy, pube-covered balls, as plump as a fruit in season. Well, daddy is definitely in season. His dick throbs with fervour, like it's hungry for something. His face grimaces, as if he's focused on something, lost in a sea of his own thoughts. He's thinking about his cub son. Who is sitting right next to him, watching him with awe.
"Whoaaaa, daddy, your cock is so big!"  The child exclaims.

The cub's passionate response causes the father's veins in his cock to pulse, his jaw tightening, face contorting into more of that you'd see on a porn-obsessed gooner.
"T-thank you, son..." He uttered, his voice as dry as the air itself.

His stupid fucking kid is to blame for this. Asking him for a 'practical lesson' on where babies come from. Daddy nearly came in his pants once he heard the request. But no. He's got to edge. He's got to show his kid just how powerful men can be.

The power of cock. It can control your mind. It can control your life. In the father's case, his sloppy strokes on his greasy, precum-covered pole is controlling him to thrust his hips up, as if he was stuffing himself in the tight bottom of his curious 11 year old son. Fuck, he wants that so bad. 

To feel the softness of his kid's fur against his pube-covered crotch. He ain't looking this DILF for nothing. It's time to give his son the spunk he needs to grow, you know? Puberty and all those raging hormones can't do all the work. No, he needs to plaster his son in bubbling white jizz at every moment, never making him forget his place underneath these masculine men.

Boys are beneath men.
And men rule the world.

It's just how it is. Women are disposed of as soon as cubs are created. It's a full on gay glory fest out here in the hyena tribe. But this is the benefit of the 'olden days'. No laws or society with which to tie their desires down, just pure, unadulterated cub loving SEX.

Daddy hyena has got a nice patch of hair growing on his chest too. It's just a shame that all those curls of hair are fuckin' matted down from his forehead sweat as he furiously beats himself off to his pedophilic thoughts.

This is just how cavemen did things, you see. Ain't no fucking thoughts going through their heads other than how to get their nut, just like niggers. In fact, the only thing separating this hyena daddy from your average black-furred wolf is his freaking legible speech. 

Yes, even 'cavemen' knew how to form sentences, apes cannot.
But even as he grunts and says a few words of advice to his excited son, his words are slurred, and his tone is deep and husky, almost to a point where you're unsure if his brain is functioning at all - so focused on gooning out to the thought of little boy butt as he is.

"Son, I'm about to fucking cum," the father said in one breath, announcing this to his child while looking at him with a loving, fatherly gaze. This time, the father didn't obfuscate his words.

"I'm a fucking pedophile, son."
God, it feels good to say it.
The father watched with blissful glee as his son's eyes shined at his passioned words.
The cub put his hands on his cheeks.
"What's... What's a 'pedophile'?" The boy asked.

The father's neck fur stood on end. His heart is filled with love for the boy, but this show of complete innocence is just driving him further and further to a thunderous orgasm.

Imagine not knowing what a pedo is. What a cub lover is. The boy is in for a reckoning.

"I'm... I..." The father was too shocked to say anything back. He's not in the right state of mind to give a lecture now. He only needs to think using his cock.

"I LOVE KIDS." He shouted, like he was holding that statement back for years. The father's hairy chest puffed up and down as his breathing got heavier.

"I LOVE... CHILDREN."
He grunted and slurred that word, like it was the most disgustingly perverse thing he's ever said in his life. Like something coming out of a demon.

His head whipped back to his son, the father pretty much covered in a sheen of his own gooning filth (aka sweat and precum).
"Son..." 
The boy's eyes shined.
"YOU'RE A FUCKING CHILD WHORE." His father raged.

The cub's eyes lowered, the boy letting out a deep breath, releasing his pent up energy.
Something about that hurt, but struck just right, as this is the way that things are meant to be.

Now daddy was about to orgasm. His cock squeaked and slapped in his firm grip.
Other hyena men in the tribe began to circle around him, aroused at the sound of a cub being degraded, lured in by the father's deep musk, his disgusting pedophilia on show for everyone to see.

In ancient times, perversion was hailed as a show of dominance, the manner by which the lion may claim the hare; the weak that cower before the strong.

To be a pedophile is to be a man.
But, to control these thoughts, to understand what it truly means to be attracted to cubs, is something that requires much deeper thought. It goes beyond gooning. Its an understanding of the self, of your own personal desires, unmarred by the expectations of others. Tribesmen had it easy. They didn't have society breathing down their back. This way, every man was a pedophile. However, it was picking the cream of the crop that proved difficult.

Think 'the animal kingdom' - that hierarchy is established in stages, and, at the very top, is the man that understood himself the most. Through this understanding, breeds confidence, which in turn, attracts others to your cause. The cause of spreading the blessing of cubophilia. 

Basically, dudes which had a good head on their shoulders, a moderation in masturbation, an active imagination, and producing the nastiest, creamiest, bubbling loads ended up controlling this world. If that isn't man enough for you, I don't know what is.

Fat ropes of spunk decorated the father's magnificent, muscled body. His body writhed in the grass as he gave himself the most thunderous orgasm of his life. All due to the thoughts of children. His eyes winced as more bubbling ropes of spunk shot forward from his giant, pulsating cockhead, straight into his head of hair.

He had to pin his arm down and dig his fingers into the grass for support as his body was taken host by a mind of its own accord, his crotch feeling like it was on fire.
"Fucking heeeellll...! I'm a fucking PEDOPHILEEEEE!" The man screamed, causing other men who loitored around him to grip their bulging loincloths, grunting in their throats. They cannot deny this display of pure masculinity. 

A man gone feral with his lusts.
Even ropes of spunk hit his cub son - but that's all for the better, you see, as cubs are fated to end up as mens' slaves, always getting a bucket load of nut to the face whenever some dude feels like he could do with 'beating one out in the morning sun'.

The father's body wretched forward as he shook himself out of his reverie, his pedo-induced orgasm which felt like it drained his balls to mere raisins. His respite did not last long, however, as a Gnoll brother quickly met lips with him, breathing out in his face about he's a 'true male' as he shoves his tongue down the father's dried throat.

Daddy didn't even think about getting up after that. Instead, he threw his Gnoll brother down on the grass with him, the father laying back, while the ginger-furred Gnoll was on top of him. Their hairy chests gritted together like coarse brushes as their meaty bodies rubbed up against one another. Perhaps the best part was feeling the Gnoll's ginger beard rub against his chin in the middle of their impassioned kiss.

Then, the Gnoll drew away. His fingers hungrily groped and caressed the side of the father's well-formed flanks, his hands then scaling over his cute, muscle-taut abs, before gripping his sweaty cock.
"How many kids do you want to fuck?" The man asked, sounding as hoarse as you would expect.
"All of them." The father answered resolutely, causing the Gnoll to break into a huge grin.
"I cannot wait to help you with that, brother."

Gay sex is best. Being gay is better.
Homo for life. Cubophilia for life.

Now, pump that chest reader, let that pride fill you nice and deep, you keep gooning, but never forget who you are. A man. A man who deserves to cum to whatever the fuck he wants.

--
“The Deep Dark Alleyway”
Scene inspiration: https://e621.net/posts/532221

People think they have rights. People think they're deserving of mercy and empathy. But where do these 'black people' hide? In the shadow of society itself. They cling to their alleyways, their darkened corners, anything to shield them for the society that the superior men have built.

Kay and Chris have a quest. It is to belittle every nigga they can find. Be it panther, wolf, or hell, even just a dark-scaled dragon, not one shitskin is spared the humiliation that these powerful men will reign upon them.

Kay is an arctic fox - his lustrous white fur is all he needs to illuminate the dark, dingy alleyway they now find themselves in. And Kay has made quite a name for himself in this city, scaring off black men just by the sight of him. But there is another tale, one that is spoken of in hushed tones, where no 'white supremacist' can be present. They say that Kay takes ghetto nutsludge to the face. People speak of times where Kay shows himself once more to the world, crawling from yet another nameless alleyway, but with a limp in his step, and his uniform mysteriously reeking of spunk.

Kay does not show these niggas who's boss. He merely wants to get closer to them. And his German shepherd counterpart, Chris, is always there to back him up. Recently posted into the 'special service' platoon, Chris is very much a deer in headlights when it comes to operations such as these; as he was raised in the far south, in some rural village, where the gravest crime was some other man using a mare's pussy as his own (the crime was not the fact that he was committing bestiality, but that the farmer, the man who owned the mare, should be committing it instead).

Chris uneasily looked around his surroundings, illuminated only by the crappy 5 dollar flashlight that is attached to the chest of their uniforms.
But what the light revealed was something not nice, more like something out of a horror book.
The alleyway is more than dim - it is grim. A monstrous den of degeneracy, where the foulest, most rejected people of society go to hide. 

And what do they do?

Suddenly, Kay held his hand up, signalling Chris to stop.
"You hear that?" The man whispered, sounding so serious like he was enacting some CoD mission or something.
Chris focused, and his ears flicked at the sound of 'rap music' in the distance. It was faint, but with this cacophony of sound that the niggas dare call 'music', he also heard grunts. Grunts that sounded like it was coming from a wounded animal, or a man so deeply engrossed with the pleasure of his cock.

Chris thought of the latter. His education and lessons in black "culture" taught him much - one mainstay fact being that, any man with dark fur or dark scales, only seeks to get his nut, one way or another.
--

The two were horrified to see the sight before them.
A stupid nigger panther jerking off like his life depended on it. That shitty one-beat gangsta rap music blared out of his speaker loudly, but even that wasn't enough to overpower the primal, ape-like grunts coming from the panther as he jerked off ravenously. 

To others, the sight would be incredibly embarrassing. But, to black men, it's their world. It's the only thing they know how to do, so they take pride in it.

He didn't even notice the two cops standing with their hands on their hips in front of him, so focused on his gooning session as he is.

"Look at him, a beast degenerated by his own lusts." Kay's words were like venom to Chris, which would surely soon affect his own ideals. He looked at the black panther with complete disdain.
"It's pathetic." The white fox spat on the ground, his heavy boots plodding as he grew closer to the person - nay, object, of his desire.

Experienced in catching these hoodlums as he is, Kay did not once think to speak English to this mysterious creature. In fact, he let out a series of guttural grunts while beating his chest. That was enough to shake the panther out of his goon-induced reverie, his eyes lighting up in fear. But oh, how beautiful he looked in the moonlight. Fur that is as dark as you can imagine, nigh invisible were it not for the cops' torches, and Kay's metaphorically blinding radiance.

The arctic fox let out a small chuckle, pleased that that trick always works. It's as if they don't know English themselves; that they only communicate in grunts and gestures.

"Your time has come, boy. Bow down before your white father."
The panther frowned at Kay's request - like he doesn't understand what he's saying at all. And even if he should, why would a proud gangsta bow down before a stuck up, racist arctic fox? They would not. They would only whip out their greasy cocks and get it over and done with. This panther knows he's above these men, that he has achieved true nirvana, an addiction to masturbation.

"Buh I jus love strokin' muh dick n' shieeeeet!" He pleaded.

Chris frowned as he tried to understand the gangster's words, his uncut, glistening black cock still standing as erect as ever, as if a run-in with cops while he's busy beating it is the most common occurrence.
"Bloody hell, Kay, I don't understand a word he's saying." He said.
The arctic fox let out a small chuckle to himself, smirking.
"Obviously, I came well prepared. Do you know where the taxpayer's money goes?" He asked. Chris attempted to answer.
"Uhm, well, I guess operations like these-"
Kay held his hand up, shaking his head.
"Not just that."
The fox reached into his pocket and pulled out a strange pen device. With a flick of his thumb, the lid opened up, revealing itself to be a small speaker.
"Watch." The fox muttered.
Soon enough, the panther's incoherent rants turned into something legible, projected into the two's ear pieces.
Chris looked stunned, his mouth open with awe.
"Don't tell me, we've actually deciphered their language?!" He asked.
Kay chuckled again, as if he's heartened by Chris's display of naivety.
"Not quite, but… This device, it's called the 'Ebonics Translator'."
Chris swallowed the lump in this throat. This arctic fox really is the most racist cop he's ever met. 
You can't deny he's effective at his job, though.
Kay put the device back in his pocket, putting his hands on his belt again.
"Listen up, nigger! You better spray your ghetto jizz that way or fess up your mixtape! Or we're taking you in."

Scene inspiration: https://e621.net/posts/1147935

Kay sighed as he realised nothing was getting through to this man. He has the gall to come to his country for refuge but is too fucking lazy to learn English.
Kay kneeled by the side of the panther, extending his arm over to him, caressing the inside of his thighs. His crotch absolutely reeks of that 'black man smell', mixed in with cock and cum.
"You stupid fucking nigger man," he grunted, lowly. Chris was surprised to say Kay's hand wrapping around that greasy cock, stroking all 9 inches from top to bottom with the most disgusting squelching sound. That's called nigger grease. Every man in the hood has it. It gets them ready for sex.

"Chris!" Kay shouted, making the GSD stand to attention.
"Give this animal a deep kiss." He ordered.
Chris swallowed the lump in this throat and quickly tore off his shirt. He's wanted this for so long. To feel an African's thick lips against his. To commit bestiality with a fellow nigga lover.
Kay focused on stroking the ape's big cock and sweaty nuts while Chris was focused on deeply, passionately making out with the animal, hearing his primal-like grunts and moans closer than ever. He also took this opportunity to run his hands throughout the man's well-sculpted body, appreciating every muscle he has.
"Black men are gods…" he whispered.