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A new litter was on its way and every rat was standing by. Throt was growing more irritable lately and had begun taking out his frustrations on anyone unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity.

With a squeal another buck was rapidly vacated from the broodmother. Even from this height the overseer knew that this one would not satisfy the Packmaster. None from this litter would. Not if the last few failed test subjects were indicative of anything.

But then came an ear-piercing screech from the pit. Ratslaves rushed to assist the female Skaven who was having trouble birthing the next one. He watched as they struggled to extract the newborn and he knew that their fortunes had changed.

“Come come fast-quick Throt!”

The Master Mutator hobbled over as he crammed another squealing morsel into his mouth. As he chewed he stared into the breeding pit, this had better be worth his time. And to his surprise, today it might actually be.

Grey Skaven were rare, often being snatched up to be trained as Grey Seers. But they were rarely born as large as a fully grown rat or hornless, and never both. There was something special about this one, perhaps it would have the answers to his latest experiment.

Something that would finally allow him to challenge Queek Headtaker.

“Grab-bring him. I have many tests I want to do!” Throt spat out a bone and scratched the skin near his warpstone eye. His henchrats scrambled to pluck the latest test subject from the litter as he contemplated what concoction of drugs would be best administered first.

---

“Start-go next drug!” The Moulder Packmaster watched with his good eye as half a dozen syringes found their way in the grey-furred buck. This next batch was several times more potent than the previous day’s, and that batch was multitudes stronger than the day prior.

And yet the buck was visibly unharmed. He had already gained extreme amounts of bulk in a short period of time, muscle was bulging in all the right places to the point he could rival a black orc in both size and strength if they could maintain these dosages.

Most test subjects didn’t survive the first injection, often ripping their own tongues and lungs out in pain or body parts simply melting into nothingness. But here they were over a week later and proceeding rapidly beyond schedule.

With a short nod they began the next series of tests. Wickedly sharp knives were employed as horrendous slashes were administered in all manner of ways.

Again, nothing. The young Skaven may have well been tickled as he continued to shove another pawful of feed into his mouth. Not only had the drugs changed his body composition to the point where he no longer registered pain, but the wounds quickly healed before their eyes as soon as the weapons were pulled away. Within minutes not even scars remained.

A few days ago it would have taken hours for those to heal and he whimpered the entire time. Perhaps in a few more days such grievous wounds would mend in a matter of seconds? Throt allowed himself a small chuckle as his third arm continued to shove a rare dairy delicacy into his face.

Very promising, very promising indeed. This experiment had exceeded his expectations again and again. A Skaven of this quality deserved a name, but what? The Master Moulder looked at the cheese in his hand. What did the locals call this? Gorgonzola? Gouda? Goudazola?

Hm, Goudazola would be a fine name for this young buck. Throt waddled away from the test chamber still chewing as his warped mind began concocting the next series of mixtures and challenges for the following day.

---

“Again-again! Punch-hit rock! One more time!”

Gouda reluctantly swung his fist towards the stone and even with the half-hearted effort it immediately powderized, showering everyone nearby with dust and shards. Even using just his bare paws he was already so powerful thanks to the chemical ministrations. And while bone on rock should hurt, the Skaven appeared unfazed as the ripped flesh on his knuckles mended themselves.

Physically, the experiment was a success. Goudazola was an absolute juggernaut, able to shrug off all the insane torture and pain that Throt could imagine while also completely recovering from it. The giant Skaven had endless stamina, able to fight for hours without even getting out of breath. And as he just demonstrated, his physical prowess was unmatched.

All the problems however, seem to lay in the mental realm.

It wasn’t that Goudazola was stupid. Perhaps Goudazola was stupid? The Packmaster absentmindedly gnawed at something wet and wriggling as he continued to observe his current favourite pet project. No, Gouda simply lacked what made Skaven a Skaven. There was no bloodlust in his eyes, no hunger for battle, no ambition or drive.

Instead, the Ratman was content to while his days away. Sleeping, eating, drinking, it didn’t matter. This slovenly lifestyle was proving to be problematic for the Master Mutator. What use was a powerful but unusable asset?

At least he was bribable. He watched as a hunk of dwarf meat was given and then Throt was immediately reminded of Gouda’s other vice.

“You’re pretty…” The slave squealed as Gouda’s paws descended onto him. The others backed away, they knew what was coming and were grateful that they were not the “pretty one” today.

Massive paws palmed the ratslave as the molestation began in earnest. Fingers were everywhere, fondling his victim’s penis as his own erection grew to be even larger than the smaller rat’s thigh.

But the slave did something unexpected today. Before any amount of anal violation could be had, he was treating his molester to an impromptu handjob. The rat had reached around with both hands and was now jerking Gouda off as fast as he could while occasionally cupping the heavy testicles below.

It didn’t take long, and soon it resulted in semen spurting everywhere, though mostly on the victim’s back. The giant relaxed just a little, allowing the slave to quickly scamper off, relatively unscathed.

That was the other half of Goudazola’s endless stamina. He’d be sated for now, but in another 10 minutes or so the Ratman would be off searching for another “pretty” thing. Throt shook his head as he swallowed, what a mess. Still, it wasn’t a complete loss. Perhaps Gouda could be used as a test subject for all matter of chemicals.

Or, why not let him fuck? Had he been taken to the breeding pits yet? Perhaps with enough generations Goudazola could provide him with a suitable offspring who was not only physically superior, but also had the ambition and ferocity that was characteristic of Skaven.

Nodding to himself, he signalled for his henchrats to retrieve Gouda. There was fucking to be done.

---

“Get in pit. Do it. Now.”

The Packmaster had two hands on the grey giant’s back, while the third pointed into the breeding pit. He could feel the tension and resistance in Gouda’s body and couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Goudazola, get in the pit and start breed-fucking. Do you want the chair to be taken away again? I kill-slay them, and then burn-burn the bearers and the chair in front of you. Get. In. The. Pit.”

With a whimper, Gouda skidded down towards the broodmother. She was a hideous, monstrous blob that reeked of sweat, pus, and fear. There was not a single feature that he could consider even remotely pretty and even closing his eyes wasn’t enough to shield him from the horrors he’d have to endure.

Already the ratslaves were swarming him, matted fur and glossy eyes, they too were “unpretty” but at least they were better than what he was being forced to fuck. With a nod from the Master Mutator they started to fluff Gouda to the best of their abilities. Slowly but surely their hands and mouths got the grey Skaven semi-erect and they guided his penis into the tattered remains of what was left of her vaginal opening.

Even before he penetrated her, she was screeching. Scars fresh and old were still weeping as what was left of her atrophied limbs writhed. And when he finally did enter the screaming rose another two octaves.

He limply thrust into the broodmother who desperately tried to squirm away. Gouda could see her tearing her flesh against the ragged edges of the pit, helpless to what was going on. The only time she calmed down was when another injection of hallucinogens were pumped into her neck but even that wasn’t reliable.

The ratslaves worked tirelessly to ensure that Throt’s favoured Skaven remained erect during the entire process. Wordlessly they continued to suckle at his scrotum, play with his nipples, or lick whatever part of his shaft was outside of her vagina.

After several painful minutes Gouda finally ejaculated inside her. She hated it, and every part of the broodmother’s body did its best to reject his seed but to no avail. The slaves were scooping up his cum and forcing it back in by the fistful much to her displeasure.

But as the Skaven giant turned to leave he felt the Packmaster’s gaze on him and cringed upon seeing a finger point back into the pit.

“Three more times! Go breed-mate more! Or I spare-save only one bearer!”

It was enough to bring Gouda to tears but he knew he wasn’t in any position to challenge Throt’s authority, and the Master Mutator always made good on his threats. The ratman felt the nausea rise in his stomach but complied. Stumbling back into the pit the ratslaves were already prepared to fluff him up again for the second round of breeding.

---

As expected, Goudazola’s stamina proved to be exceptionally helpful in this task. Throt watched as another wave of semen flooded the broodmother, her wails indicating that at least one of the loads would result in a litter thanks to their efforts.

Satisfied, he waved away the surrounding ratslaves, gave his current preferred Skaven a nod, and shambled off to prepare for his next batch of schemes.

Gouda’s revulsion from the event however was becoming increasingly difficult to overcome. It wasn’t the first time that he had been forced to enter the breeding pits but it always left him feeling dirty and unsatisfied. There was no joy in the activity and now the Packmaster was using threats to force him to do the deed.

He sulked to the deepest tunnels he could find to be away with his thoughts. The Skaven had enjoyed the preferential treatment afforded to him by the Master Mutator but it was becoming clear that the good times were far behind now. There was little freedom, and even that was already being scraped away by the whims of the Packmaster.

Strange, someone was down here with him. Curiosity got the better of him and Gouda crawled into increasingly tight tunnels before arriving at a spacious alcove, revealing a group of clanrats huddling around in a crude ring.

It was only when Goudazola heard sobbing that he decided to investigate closer.

The other Skaven didn’t notice him at first, their snickering drowning out the larger rat’s approach. And only when Gouda was upon them did they finally acknowledge his presence.

“Where you come from?!” They were startled and completely caught off guard. As their circle broke it revealed a battered white Skaven.

Even with his mental capacities Gouda knew something was wrong. What was a rare white fur doing here, and bullied of all things. He scowled as the other ratmen drew their weapons.

“You mind own business! Throt no here to save-save you! Go aw-”

The first rat had his entire skull crushed in the palm of Gouda’s hand. His companions squealed in rage as they charged forth to avenge their friend. An assortment of blades and teeth sunk into the greyfur as they cackled, confident in their abilities to win.

“Not so big-strong are you?! You die-die here!”

But their laughter would be short-lived as they watched in horror as each of their attacks simply healed away. Before they could attack again, Gouda simply punched a literal hole in the chest of one and tore the arms off another, like a child might rip the wings off a fly.

The last Skaven had defecated himself in fear and was backing away as fast as he could.

Not that it did him any good. With two strides the Goudazola was upon him and without any mercy he picked the screaming rat by the head and neck and simply pulled.

The screaming soon stopped.

The white Skaven was rightfully terrified of the raw display of power that was just displayed, and cowered slightly while whimpering as the ratman titan approached. And when Gouda touched his cheek he trembled and closed his eyes, expecting the worst.

“You pretty…”

That, that was not expected. And neither was the gentleness from his hands. Fingers traced across and through his white fur, caressing nipples and his budding erection with each pass. The Skaven found himself melting into the massive arms and let lust take over the fear.

So when Gouda leaned over with his mouth the smaller ratman openly reciprocated and allowed their tongues to mesh. Which in turn was a surprise. Most of the time when the collosal ratman made advances on anyone they froze up or tried to escape. This was a nice surprise.

“What is your name?”

“I, I’m Chester.”

“I like-like you Chester.”

They kissed again, deeper, longer this time. Their tongues wrestled between their lips as the white Skaven found himself picked up, nestled near Gouda’s chest. For the first time in forever Chester felt safe, secure, and wanting to repay the favour.

“Let me down-down. I do good thing for you.”

Normally Goudazola would have forced his victim to continue doing whatever he wanted, but the novelty of having someone want to voluntarily pleasure him was too much to pass up on. Reluctantly but also with great excitement, Chester was lowered down and as quickly as his paws touched the floor he circled behind the ratman behemoth.

Pushing the massive tail out of the way the white Skaven wedged his snout between Gouda’s buttcheeks and began to lick at the puckered asshole. Meanwhile, his soft paws reached around to cradle heavy balls and stroke the penis to a fully erect state.

Despite his smaller stature there was still considerable strength and finesse in Chester’s motions and soon he felt his face being pet by the groaning Skaven titan. Being attacked from so many sensitive points was taking its toil and his knees were definitely weakening.

“My turn to make you feel good-good.”

Chester found himself plucked off the ground again and to the point where he brushed against the ceiling. He was then lowered directly onto Gouda’s mouth where he eagerly returned the favour. The white Skaven squirmed uncontrollably, uncertain whether he wanted to get away or indulge in the pleasure some more.

Again, for someone who had literally just effortlessly ripped apart a number of Skaven ogres there was that gentleness again. His thick tongue traveled every which way it wanted. More than once Chester could feel his scrotum being tickled before the licking returned to his ass.

Gouda was too focused on the rimming and thus was neglecting the penis bouncing just inches from his nose. Though to be fair, Chester didn’t really care and was jacking himself off only to suddenly stop himself before he came.

“Your turn-turn Gouda! Use-mate me!”

The white ratman freed himself and lay on his back on the tunnel floor. Spreading and lifting his legs up, he exposed his twitching asshole for Goudazola to see. The Skaven giant’s cock trembled with excitement as it was pressed against the soft pink hole.

Saliva and the copious amounts of Gouda’s precum would normally be sufficient lubricant but there would be some difficulty with their size difference. With some careful maneuvering and lots of relaxing the head slowly went in.

The tightness around his cock was incredible and with more encouragement, the rest of the head pushed in as well as a little more of the shaft. He could feel Chester’s cute erection sandwiched between the two of them, the hot breath on his chest, and the tiny arms wrapped around his waist.

Thrusting was tender at first, almost as though Gouda was worried that he’d accidentally rip the smaller Skaven in half. But as they got a rhythm going he became more energetic, shoving more and more of himself deeper and further.

With a roar a flood of ratcum rushed into Chester’s intestines. The pressure and warmth was also the breaking point for him and he spurted all over the space between them, making a sticky mess in their fur.

Even as they cuddled and continued to kiss, Gouda’s penis was still an extremely effective plug even while flaccid. And with great hesitance he pulled out causing a healthy stream of still-warm semen to spill onto the tunnel floors.

Both tried to speak at several points but found themselves out of breath and unable. They eventually settled on more nuzzling and kisses as in the light of their afterglow. That is, until Chester noticed the other Skaven’s penis coming back to life.

“Let’s go somewhere more comfortable.” With a nod, Gouda held the white ratman’s hand as they navigated their way out of the tunnels, back to the rest of Clan Moulder. They were halfway there when suddenly Chester stopped the two of them and held a finger to his lips.

Confused, the Skaven behemoth leaned forward to get a better look and instantly stepped back when he recognized Throt having an intense conversation.

“I need more-many pretty things for bribe-threat Gouda.”

“You find way to control rat giant?”

The Packmaster nodded and continued to speak with his mouth full of partially chewed food, “We give Goudazola a gift, then when he no listen, gift go die-die!”

That was the final straw. Being forced to do things against his will was one thing, being threatened was another. But the two in combination was too much, especially when he was being actively plotted again.

Chester found himself being guided back through the tunnel they came through. A glance upward revealed an inscrutable look upon the rat giant’s face. But he trusted in his newfound saviour and lover’s face and simply followed.

---

They soon arrived at the slave holding pens where Gouda gave immediate instructions to the Skaven in charge.

“Get-give me the prettiest slaves you can, quick-quick!” The taskmaster hesitated until the massive ratman walked directly in front and stared down, “Do it. Or else you can deal with Throt.”

That did the trick. Everyone knew that Goudazola was the Master Mutator’s current favoured project, they just needed to be reminded once in a while.

Reminded that the Packmaster always got what he wanted, whatever his projects wanted, and woe to anyone who defied anything even remotely associated with either.

The slaver quickly ran off. Everyone knew that Gouda had preferences for “pretty” things and had a vague idea of what constituted it. Even if it was mostly so that they could redirect his attention to something “prettier” if they ever caught his eye.

“What are you think-planning Gouda…?” The white Skaven couldn’t tell if he was excited or nervous for what was in store for them. But as he felt a strong arm hold him close he knew that everything would work out.

Soon a cluster of “attractive” slaves were brought out. Slightly better fed than the others, they winced when they saw what they were brought out for. All of them had been a victim at least once. And just because it wasn’t as bad as some of the other tasks they had to do didn’t really make them feel any better.

“Good-good, come with me now. And you, I don’t need you anymore.”

The slavemaster nodded his head and turned to leave only to find his neck suddenly slammed into Goudazola’s knee. The Skaven didn’t even have time to be surprised and died immediately.

“W-what, what’s going on…?”

“We are breaking free. No more listening to Throt. We go our own way now.” Everyone looked up in disbelief, even moreso when they realized he was being completely serious.

“We must be fast-quick. And I want-need my chair. Then we go.” Silently they marched to his personal chambers. Everyone on the way gave the crowd a wide-berth along with looks of pity. If only they knew their true intentions.

As the Packmaster had promised not only was his chair still in one piece, but so were its bearers. Four muscular hermaphrodites were hunched over on all fours, ready to carry Gouda at a moment’s notice. He has specifically requested that they have both types of genitalia and while Throt’s experimentation had been successful, it ultimately left them little more than feral creatures.

Hoping into his comfortable seat, he invited Chester to sit on his lap. Then before anyone could stop them they casually left the comforts of the only home they had ever known.

---

Goudazola ignored the weeping of the bar wench as he savagely pounded his cock into her body. With Throt, he had only experienced Skaven as sexual partners. And the only females he ever got to see were the bloated and disgusting broodmothers. The vaginas on the hermaphrodites carrying his chair didn’t count.

Here in the outside world he was able to satiate his hunger with all sorts of new and pretty things. Humans were mostly hairless and softer to the touch. And females were actually very nice to look at and consequently, nice to fuck.

The Skaven titan ejaculated for the third time into his latest victim, his seed openly spilling out from both her holes. He didn’t understand why she was so traumatized though, he was told that human women often solicited these kinds of services. So she should be used to it.

Perhaps not used to a Skaven, and a Skaven as large as he was. No matter, the instant he noticed that she had lost consciousness was when he too lost interest. Dumping her on the counter and dropping a few coins near her limp form, he went to check up on how the looting of the inn was going.

The humans in the dwelling had put up a good fight, and if Gouda had not been there it’s likely they would have inflicted serious casualties on their group. But with the ratman effortlessly shrugging off all and every attack their assailants never stood a chance. Now it was a simple matter of picking through anything of value.

“Greetings, did you have good-fun time?” Chester scampered over for a kiss and proceeded to update his leader with the spoils of their latest raid.

Nothing spectacular. Coins, food, alcohol, and some better weapons and armor for a few of his militia. But there was a problem. Like true Skaven they were getting restless and as his right hand rat pointed out, if they didn’t do something about it quick it could become trouble.

“Don’t worry Chester.” Gouda stroked underneath the white ratman’s chin, “I took-stole some things from Throt before we escaped. Put it in their food-drink.”

Passing forward a pouch of what could only be some of the Master Mutator’s iconic mind-altering drugs, Chester nodded and set off on his new task. But this did little to soothe the Skaven behemoth’s worries. If they didn’t find a reliable source of the drug, he may have to put down some of his pretty harem.

“WHO IS YOUR LEADER? BRING-BRING HIM QUICK-NOW.”

What were other Skaven doing here? Stomping to the front of the inn, Gouda went to greet the interlopers who had broken into their lodgings.

“I am Goudazola, what do you want?”

With bleary eyes they glowered at the ratman who stood as tall as an orc. They were wounded and not in the best condition. It was obvious that they had been fighting until recently.

“We try-try many times to take this inn. You tough-strong. We hire you for help, yes-yes?”

Hmm… Chester had talked about this kind of work before. What was it called… Being a mercenary? It had a nice ring to it.

“Ok, I accept. Let’s go now. Who we fight?”

“We fight-kill orc!”

Orcs? A worthy quarry for his first job. Soon, everyone would know the name of Goudazola the Mercenary.