Chapter 1:
Brun stood at the far end of the kings court, gripping the massive double-weighted cudgel in his paw. His actions had earned him the title of “Steward” by the King, but the King’s favour was fickle, and his advice limited. 
Beads of sweat trickled down the bare patches of magical scars that decorated the old bear’s flesh. The corruption here was palpable, the sickly-sweet scent of the King’s Rot filled his nostrils, evoking memories and emotions he would much prefer to repress. The Scarcaster wished he could crush the King’s skull with it right here, right now. But there were too many guards, too much space between himself and the old lion. The lurking horrors outside would be quick to catch him the second his intent crystallized into action. 
“Ah, Brun, Champion of the people, my faithful steward... for now.” Mercurio the rat had advised him for several days now,ut after saving a town from several Banes, Brun’s name was on the people’s lips, and in the King’s ear. “You've served our people well. Yes... but now, we have need of you.” He narrowed his eyes, shining eerie violet in the shadows at his end of the hall.
Brun swallowed hard. There was a breeze in the stillness that seemed to come from no set source. He felt the lightest tickle against his fur, the touch of a feather perhaps, followed by the sensation of slime drying against fur and skin. 
“Yes,” murmured the king. “Such a need.”
Brun felt the tickle again, lower this time. Between his legs. The king’s corruption was reaching out, expressing his dark desires. Instantly, Brun understood the nature of the King’s need. Blackheart’s depravity knew no bounds. 
“Your advice, Steward.” purred the King. “How shall such needs be met? Would you satisfy my desires?”
Brun had a horrific moment of clarity, he could see the two paths open to him. If he submitted to the King’s Desire, there would be no way he’d survive the night. True, the druids of the Bear Clan cared for his soul, and would revive him back at the den, but his position amongst the people was already perilous. Worse, there was no way he could avoid becoming corrupted with Rot by his encounter with the King. But the alternative…
Brun glanced at the guards. “Sire, it would be my... er, pleasure... to be at your, uh, disposal.”, the weaselly words didn’t come natural to the gruff bear, and he felt sicker still for saying them.  “But if I stay, the people may talk. Perhaps your loyal staff would be more... discreet?”
The king looked over his shoulder at the line of armoured dogs, halbards held erect. The point of a soldier’s halberd began to jitter with the loss of his nerve. With a sudden fury born of sexual frustration, the king rose from his chair. “Then this I decree! BEGONE!!!” He let out a mighty roar, shaking the castle to it’s very foundations. 
Brun fled as quickly as his dignity would allow. He could hear the king bellowing at some unfortunate guard to fetch him a serving girl. It wasn’t long outside the palace gate that the full effect of his choice hit him. Brun gasped as a wave of unaccountable lust gripped him. 
Brun staggered into the woods, his head completely muddled by the corrupt king’s emotional sewage washing over him. Despite his training, and years of celebacy and restraint, the madness of the kings was intolerable. He needed to fuck, he needed to come. He needed it NOW. 
Barely out of view from the roads, he dropped the cudgel and gave the massive horned skull at his waist a twist, loosening his belt. His long, thin cock practically leapt out of his pants where the skull had been constricting it. The skull’s weight dragged the rest of his loincloth down as he released the skull and gripped his shaft. His other hand came to rest heavily against the trunk of a tree to support himself.
Panting, the massive bear began to paw off. His tip was already dripping with lubrication, slathering the pads of his massive paw, and letting his strokes slide easily along the shimmering exposed flesh. Within seconds, he was slick enough to fuck his fist without resistance. As he tensed, his claws raked deep gouges in the tree-bark, teeth bared in a rictus of urgent need.
With a fierce roar, his seed erupted, splashing the truck of the tree, and spilling silvery spirals of semen across the litter of the forest floor Thick strings of milky slime bent the leaves of the underbrush, drawing them down with sticky threads of goo. Spurt after spurt gushed past his fingers, until finally, legs weak from the effort, he staggered back, tripping over his belt and collapsing unceremoniously onto his rump, cock still twitching out thin spurts of semen over his legs and belly. 
Brun looked up at the dawn sky, heart pounding, breath shaking. Despite the massive orgasm, he still didn’t feel satisfied. With a disgusted grunt, he tried to force the issue from his mind, to gains some meditative clarity. 
As his breathing calmed, he heard the screams. Distant, carried on the winds, not from the palace, but from Blueberry Town. A creeping horror filled him as he realized the true extent of the King’s Excess. That primal lust was creeping across the land, towns terrorized by frenzied mobs. He shut his eyes, but could not shut out the screams. 
“Wylds forgive me…”