Djinn, Demon, Angel, Nephilim, there are many names for my kind. We are old by the count of your days, though they trouble us not. For those who find or call us, we can grant gifts, insight, even companionship. I am Shahrivar, and my boons require a price.

art by  Bagworm

Offer… sacrifice.. teacher… grant.. Power…
The lion gave a woop, scattering his half finished notes. This was exactly what he was hoping. The artifact did grant power. Some sort of djinn locked in the scroll case perhaps? What was the proper offering? Fyacin groaned. He had practically nothing to offer a djinn, demon, or angel here! But he didn’t have time to find something appropriate- the stars were already in position, and they wouldn’t be for long. No, the case must be opened here. Tonight. There was one thing he had to offer that had never failed him yet.
A few minutes later, and he had cleared away most of his scribblings, placed the case in the center of a summoning circle, and painted his fur with ash designs of several different Karosthi letters and phrases. He dearly hoped the djinn inside the artifact was one that counted more on intent than exact procedures. He turned those hopes into a song- one of the very ragas he had studied using those Karosthi letters. He would try a few different ones, ragas for waking, for power, for afterlife for…
There was a click from the scroll case, and Fy stopped singing. Smoke slowly filled the circle, then billowed out, covering the room in a foot or so of deep fog. The electric lights flickered and dimmed, leaving the naked lion standing in the dim light of a few incense candles and the wan moon pouring in from a dusty skylight. He shivered, the room suddenly feeling cool, before a figure gradually appeared where the scroll case had opened. They were tall, at least head and shoulders above the lithe lion, clad in some sort of asymmetric toga that left one arm and shoulder exposed. They were slim, androgynous, fur a dark cobalt grey. Azure blue designs whirled through it like galaxies in motion, slowly settling as they became corporeal. Long hair cascaded down from their head, a wave of pink, violet, and lilac. Tall ears, and a graceful rose-quartz horn finished the profile, their eyes flashing amber, the warm color contrasting sharply with what Fyacin had seen so far.
“Thou hast called Shahrivar, He Who Forges Stars! Thou hast earned a boon, but the nature of thine gift is yet to be settled. What sacrifice dost thou offer?” His voice was surprisingly deep, his question hanging in the air. Fyacin was reminded of a maned wolf: delicate yet imposing, possessing a growl that shook bones. The toga shifted as Shahrivar walked towards him, the thin cloth briefly pressing against the shadow of a decidedly male endowment. Fyacin shivered, fur prickling in arousal. He wasn’t sure if it was due more to the imposing, seductive, powerful presence of this strange spirit, or if it was from what he was about to do.
“I offer to sacrifice my body.” Fyacin said, striding calmly into his circle, spreading his hands apart, palms out, letting the creature observe his beauty. “My flesh to serve yours, my form to bring pleasure to your earthly incarnation, my spirit to-”
Shahrivar laughed, the sound cruel and booming. “Thou knows not what thou offers to me” His eyes flashed, now close enough to the lion for his tail to curl around and caress Fyacin’s body. It was a strange thing, hoary and furred, before it became a bare length of flesh, the same pastel sunset colors of his hair, ending in a wicked spade tip. That flared point traced lines on Fy’s body, smearing his ashen paintings, before with a rush of air his fur was scoured clean, and dark marks began to appear in their place. A harness, a collar, and..
Fy gasped, shuddering in arousal, continuing his plea as the spirits power washed over him.
“O’ great Shahrivar, I beg you, take me as your pupil, so that I may one day have the power to overthrow these bonds, and serve you as you so richly deserve.” He hooded his eyes, parting his lips, a sexual supplicant begging for their virile god.
Shahrivar smirked, his cloth covering disappearing in a gesture. The dark fur of his limbs faded to a thick cream undercoat on his inner thighs, midriff, and chest. His package was heavy, a thick sheath resting on full balls, covered in a layer of fur the color of a black winter sky. Fyacin’s earlier glimpse had not done the divinity’s endowment justice, and he lifted his hands to Shahrivar’s thighs, feeling the soft fur and tense muscle, his finders drifting inward, to the heat and warmth between them. He stopped, giving a small whine as Shahrivar’s tail coiled around his throat, holding him still just before the treasure that the lion sought.
“Thou hath offered no sacrifice, and now thou expect me to teach thee, based on thine promises rooted in mine own lust?” whispered the eldritch wolf, his tone reproachful, indignant. “Dost thou truly desire power, O’ lion? Or dost thou merely covet what is not yet thine?”
Fyacin shuddered, cock sliding from his sheath as he felt the powerful wolf’s tail, his deep voice touching something deep inside him and driving him absolutely wild. He tore his eyes from the sheath before him, a thick violet cocktip just appearing, rising, spiced scent of arousal making him savor every breath.
“I do!” he cried, desperate out of arousal and greed. “I do desire power! I will do whatever you ask, whatever you desire.” Fyacin begged, meaning every word. Visions of the wolf, this powerful djinn, holding him still, filling his throat with cock, bending him over and breeding him, forcing Fyacin to display the complete depravity of his harem training, to become and embody the role of wanton slut, to give completely of his body and mind- “I will do anything” he repeated, voice hoarse and needy.
Shahrivar laughed. “O, shall thee? Yes. I think that it is so. Though thou hast attempted to deceive me, thine ambition is suitable for the power that thou seeks.” he kneeled then, arching his back so that he could meet the lion face to face. His eyes sparkled with mirth.
“Thou would truly do anything so that thou may touch the incandescence of starlight? So that thou may wield it with beauty and grace beyond any mortal ken?”
“Anything” Fyacin answered, his voice hardly more than a whisper.
“Then first, thou shalt get dressed, and copy the incantation of mine scrolls properly”
“Yes mast- wait, what?” Fy’s voice lost its husky edge, his cock drooping.
“Then I will instruct thee to thine new physical exercises.”
“No, wait, I thought you-”
“Lastly, we shall improve thine diet, and purify thine body”
“But, I.. can’t I just suck your dick?” Fy protested petulantly, entirely dissatisfied with the swift change in direction this negotiation had taken.
Sharivar only laughed again, full of mirth, and stood up. His elegant hands traced a little furrow in the thick fur around his groin before he hefted his balls and sheath casually.
“Oh yes. Thou wilt earn that privilege… eventually.”