FSE

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Disclaimer - Don't be fooled by the placid black and white veneer. Under the surface this work contains puzzling cyans, murderous taupes, and molten passionate reds that will disgust you as they destroy the laws of good taste and additive colors to paint the world with a sizzling vivid brush. (In layman's terms, please do not continue if it would be unlawful for you to view materials of a pornographic nature.)

The Tribe

She lay in the dusty shade, legs sprawled out carelessly as she watched the silence of the strange village life unfolding around her. The hoof prints in the sand were now actually kind of comforting, but this heat was so oppressive. Agatha wasn't certain if they were just used to it, or if due to their . . . unique nature they were just more suited to this particularly inhospitable clime.

The splint against her left arm was uncomfortably tight, held there by some fibrous sling fashioned from a simple rope made of twisted grass. Stroking a finger along its oddly smooth texture she thought back to that wild and terrible night that had brought her here.

Her expedition was small, only two American anthropologists, and an adventurous Swede who served as their guide. And her of course, but as the only archeologist she felt somewhat out of place. The hilly terrain they traversed was too variegated for a motor jeep, and so they had opted for a train of four camels, and though they were foul and somewhat onerous beasts, they could carry hundreds of pounds, and didn't require any particular maintenance other than the cooing reassurance of the Swede.

The ambush had come so suddenly that she had to fill in the details as she shuddered to think back on the terrible incident, it played on in her mind even as she tried to ignore it or halt the terrible images. They must have been waiting right behind the edges of the ravine because before she knew it they were everywhere, drab wraps of thin cloth covering their heads and faces as they shouted and waved tarnished firearms. The Swede attempted to translate their shouting, holding up his empty hands and calling out in some strange accent that matched their own.

The shot rang out in Agatha's mind. Too quiet. Too terrible. A vile spume of crimson shards flying back as his body jerked and fell twitching to the ground. The wet sound of a body, no longer Johannes, just a body, seemed louder than the gun shot had, slowed down to an insane instant inside of her.

Bitter frightened tears welled forth from her eyes as she was dragged off of her unprotesting mount. She wanted it to rear up, to bite, but it just stood passively as they barked unknown orders to her. Eyes tracing over their shrouded forms, she followed the Americans' examples and turned out her pockets, revealing her journal, timepiece, and a simple folding knife that she threw to the ground. Their assailants wore bandoleers, mostly with an assortment of cartridges, although one had a number of round steel fruit hanging from his proud chest. Probably left over from the war.

She ground her teeth as she was prodded with a bayonet in the back of her shoulder, it felt like it had drawn blood, but she dared not turn around to see. The American couple clung together as the man wept bitter tears and the raven haired woman began to slowly remove her shoes. This land was too harsh to survive in without supplies, without clothes, even if they did escape ending up like the swede. As the rusted bayonet pricked her again she shuddered, and began shrugging off her khaki jacket, tossing it forward and then tugging off her undershirt as they jeered and menaced her. It was only with great reluctance that she undid the belt of her short pants and kicked them forward. The metallic tang of blood welled in her mouth as she gnawed at her lip.

Her panic only held the memory of the bullet smashing through her friend at bay for a split second before the coppery taste in her mouth caused her to heave, loosing foul ichor onto her piled clothes as the men pulled back in surprised laughing disgust. She hadn't seen it, but the American must have dove forward at that time. There was a brief struggle, wrists clenching as the horde of her captors closed in like vultures on a fresh kill.

And suddenly, as if a lion had disturbed the vultures, they all backed away screaming. But the fruit had been plucked, and fell in two pieces from the American's restrained hand, landing on the ground with a minute thud.

There was the idea of a loud noise that she couldn't remember clearly, just a sharp ringing that replaced every other sound. Then, the feeling of steel thudding into the flesh of the man next to her as the whole lot was thrown off their feet. She saw the sky, and the ground, and felt as if she'd been slapped away by the very air itself as she landed on her arm with a sickening crunch. She always thought that breaking a bone would be painful, but it was the strange popping sensation that made her shiver. There was no time for pain. Her bare feet were running as soon as she hit the ground, eyes only looking at her next footstep as she ran. She did not scream, and she did not feel the cruel barbs of the scrubby land scrape against her delicate feet and legs. She only ran.

* * *

She didn't remember stopping, but eventually she must have simply collapsed. In a wilderness such as this she was surprised that she had ever woken up at all, but that was dwarfed by her bizarre awakening. The first thing that Agatha remembered was a dappled sensation of light against her eyelids. Attempting to roll out of bed she gasped suddenly, pitching forward in pain, one arm dragging against a simple woven grass mat and the other constrained somehow as panic bubbled up inside her mind.

Eyes opening, she started, jaw dropping as she shivered, body and mind still stuck in the confused coils of her harrowing ordeal. Agatha's vision took time to focus, but what it told her seemed wrong. Another being was there, reclined and watching her with benign interest. But its body was an impossible shape, all odd angles and curves where she expected none. It was easy to write off as a hallucination, but as she became more lucid, the creatures careful movements were too precise to be just that of some mental figment. Perhaps she was already dead and this was just what happened when the mind ceased to be. But existence continued, making her small supposition seem ludicrous.

"Where . . . am I?" her voice croaked out, rough and seemingly out of place in the still air. The beast's only reply was a flickering of long ears before leaning in to hand her the smooth skin of a dried gourd, filled with glistening water. She drank without question, sucking down the water greedily. As her eyes peered over the tilted edge of her simple cup, they met her peaceful observer's wide dark doe-like orbs.

"Can you speak?" her working arm set the bowl down awkwardly, body still tingling with the pins and needles of adrenalin. "I mean, thank you . . . uhh . . ." she looked down over her body. There were smears of some rust colored rough dried substance smeared over her various cuts and abrasions, and the bizarre contraption around her arm seemed to be some kind of a splint. She was alive . . . because of this?

Her captor, or her savior rose to her cloven hooves,ears twitching as it looked down at her. The thing's body was clad in short fur that was the color of dark straw on her back with a dark back stripe that brushed down her sides. Although she was flat chested, there were two dark skinned animal teats on her belly, just above her exposed dark lipped femininity. The suede smooth blackness of the strange mammaries contrasted with the brilliant creamy white that covered the strange human shaped animal's front.

The beast's arms were lithe, but seemingly quite powerful, with tight sinewy muscles that led up to her three dark hoof-tipped digits. They seemed ungainly, but Agatha had seen them lift the cup of water with dexterous grace. A strong cervine neck led to an oddly attractive muzzle, elongated and striped with odd calico patterns, twitching velveteen nostrils, and flexible lips that seemed to pull at themselves absentmindedly. Her large almost bovine eyes were accentuated by dark stripes that ran down her muzzle, contrasting with the white and brown in a pleasantly natural way. Rounded long ears like curled leaves demonstrated amazing flexibility as they twisted questioningly atop the bestial humanoid's head, with two short and slightly serrated horns that rose between them. She turned to leave, revealing her short black haired tail as she stepped from the simple grass lean-to into the blazing sunlight.

"Wait, please!" a note of panic crept into the woman's voice as she called after the departing cervine. Agatha tried to push herself to her feet, but the absence of one arm made her stumble and fall to her side with a dull jolt of pain. Was she just going to be abandoned here? Not that she wasn't grateful that someone . . . or something had saved her life. But, she couldn't survive out here in her crippled state, and she didn't even know if the passive creature had understood her . . .

"Ah, You've finally woken up I see!" the sudden apparition of a boisterous British accent startled her as the white mustached face of a particularly ancient man peaked under the edge of the simple lean-to. "Marvelous, I'm glad you pulled through. They were very worried when they brought you in," he was wearing an old set of khaki shorts almost worn to threads and a kind of grass poncho that made his body look huge in comparison to his rather scrawny arms. He took off his wide and rough straw hat as he looked down at her, making Agatha suddenly aware of her own nakedness. She did her best to cover herself with her one good arm, realizing just how much the rest of her body ached.

"I'm sorry, but you are . . .?" she was having trouble taking in how absolutely insane all of this was.

"Raston Pebblebrook miss. At your service," he tipped his already doffed hat towards her theatrically. "And I assume you're wondering where you are."

"Quite. The last thing I remember . . ." she shook her head, hearing the ringing in her ears as she sailed through the air. "I was in a bad way. I think it was robbers of some sort," her voice began to pick up tempo as her breathing quickened. "But I didn't understand. They _shot_Johannes," hot tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.

The strange old man cast his eyes downwards, "It's okay. You're safe here. Just keep breathing, deep full breaths. There there." his voice was regretful, but deeply sympathetic. "I'm terribly sorry for your loss, but you were the only one they found Miss . . ." he tugged at the edges of his white mustache dejectedly.

Well, at least she was alive. Somehow. "So, what exactly is this place and the . . . umm, woman in here before, who was she?" at this point it didn't feel like any answer would be satisfactory, but she wanted to make some kind of sense of this and drive back the chaotic buzzing in her mind.

"That was the most medically talented in all the Tribe, really quite an important person. She's the one who set your arm and spread the ibocaine paste on your cuts, smashing stuff to be sure, dreadfully hard to find," there were barely any pauses in his quick and oddly sincere voice. It reminded her of one of her grandfather's old friends from the war. He fiddled wit the straps on his blocky looking improvised footwear.

"Umm, yes, but," she interjected carefully. "What was she? I mean, are they . . . just very particular people or . . . ?" her voice trailed off, not wanting to call her saviors something so base as animals.

"Oh, dear. It seems I must have got very much ahead of myself. They are a small Tribe of beings unlike any I have ever seen before," he continued as if filling in the blanks while she thought of them. "Their features bear some resemblance to that of a gazelle but their anatomy is entirely alien. They are just as civilized as you or me though, let me tell you. Their language, their customs, their way of life, is quite strikingly beautiful," his eyes looked up into the hot blue horizon as he spoke. "I came here hoping to make just this kind of discovery over thirty years ago, but I'm afraid modern science would simply be too destructive to a society as perfect as this one, and so I've decided to spend the rest of my days here, amongst the Tribe," he smiled at her, wrinkles creasing up in the corners of his eyes.

"Ah, yes. Now she's coming back with sustenance," he interrupted himself. You should both eat and rest. Your body is still in a very critical stage," he patted her good shoulder affectionately as he rose to his feet, knees cracking. "And so you should, miss . . ."

"Agatha Dunwald, sir. And please, tell her I say thank you," the thought of food made her mouth water.

"I can guarantee you that she already knows," he winked at her, and walked away with a strange shuffle in his step.

Just then an approaching rustling drew her attention as that familiar cervine form bent down under the simple canopy. Hoofed fingers placed a simple wooden platter before her, with some odd shelled nuts and some kind of paste that looked like an orange mashed yam.

"Thank you," Agatha looked up at the watchful animal face. She was unsure if she had been understood, or even recognized, but perhaps it was just a cultural difference, and she didn't want to offend her savior.

She tucked into the food, using only her fingers as no utensils were provided. "It's good, really," she looked into the strange being's animal eyes as her ears twitched and she watched over the wounded human. In any other circumstances, Agatha would have felt strange having another creature watching her as she ate. But the doctor just looked down at her with a passive but tender softness in her expression as Agatha's eyelids drooped, and she slowly drifted off into a slightly less troubled slumber.

* * *

Over the next few days Agatha came to understand the Tribe. They were all the same general shape, but each had a few defining characteristics, sizes, patterns, and personalities. Raston had told her that they didn't exactly have names as people thought of them, but she mentally cataloged the features of each one. They only had seven members, and she became very quickly acquainted to them all as best she could. The one that had saved her she simply called Doc, as it seemed to fit her role in the group, and calling her "the Doctor" was so unpersonable.

Very early on she had realized that there were no men in the Tribe. Raston had never seen a male of their species, and theorized that they must be incredibly long lived. But, that was not to say that there was no intimacy amongst the Tribe. On her second day, Agatha saw a peculiar event, a sort of wrestling match between the larger one with a scarred shoulder that she'd taken to calling Tough, and the skilled forager that she called Finder.

They each drug their hooves in a semi circle around them, ending with a complete cordon drawn in the reddish sandy soil, separating them from the world. The rest of the village came to watch, and so Agatha did as well, still sore, but feeling relatively whole. It was still odd being amongst them so early on, but they didn't seem to mind her presence. The old explorer had told her that they didn't have a spoken language as such, but had a very nuanced form of communication involving movements of the eyes, lips, ears, and general body language, but they just seemed so quiet. It made Agatha feel left out . . .

Once the circle was drawn, they both held tightly onto each other's shoulders and after some imperceptible cue, both figures burst in to action. She could see the corded muscles bunch under their skins as they rocked and pulled wildly. Finder seemed to give way under Tough's bulkier frame, but Tough ended up stumbling over the smaller creature's lithe body and falling just outside the ring of sand. Then they both brushed themselves off, paused, and went at it again. Occasionally Tough would let out a cervine bellow as she made a decisive toss, or fell over from her own strength used against her.

In the end it was hard to tell who won. Tough seemed to get Finder out of the ring more often just through superior strength, but Finder's victories were certainly more interesting, involving inertia for seemingly physics defying acts. No one was declared a victor that Agatha could tell, but they eventually stopped their sport when both were thoroughly exhausted, fur tinged with red earth and the sweat of their own exertion.

Without seeming ceremony, the whole party moved silently towards the stream that ran down on the other side of their village. They waded into the clear water, nostrils flaring in pleasure while they began to scrub the dust out of the combatants' fur. Agatha could see manifold sets of smooth black digits rubbing over strong shoulders and down around their animal thighs. It felt like she should move away from her shore-bound vantage point, but like usual, they seemed accepting of her position almost to the point of obliviousness and she didn't want to be alone.

She wanted to be down there, in the water with them. To be a part of a community that was so close knit, to understand what it was they were saying to each other as Finder splashed around impetuously. After what Agatha had experienced, she wasn't sure that she ever wanted to return to humanity either, and so this was the perfect place to wait, stuck between cultures, the past, and the future . . .

Smooth rubbing hands caressed lower, rubbing over pert animal teats as Finder rolled her head back and fell into Tough's solid arms which spread themselves over her white belly, scrubbing gently as they lowered and brushed over her black skinned mamaries. Agatha could see Tough's lips curl back in pleasure, revealing her blocky teeth while the rougher fur of Finder's back ground against her own pair of teats.

The others were touching themselves as well, no sense of personal space evident amongst them as some embraced, mouths pressing together as their long pink tongues entwined, malleable lips nibbling at each other. Rounded hoofed fingers searched gingerly, teasing around under the surface of the water, stroking over the edges of taut femininities, causing a compressed huff of pleasure as they pressed in, squeezing past the tight fleshy edges to stroke against their sensitive insides.

Gradually, they finished their peculiar bath, wading out to the bank of the stream and dispersing back into the village. Leaving little water pocks in the red dusty soil they returned to their everyday lives, as Agatha sat there feeling like she shouldn't have watched that at all.

As she was lost in thought, Raston approached through the underbrush, face lighting up as he saw her sitting there, some of the color had returned to her skin and the signs of shock were fading. "Why do you think they stay here?" she asked him, turning her face up as she leaned back against the smooth bark of a small tree.

"I assume it's because they have everything they want. They seem to be quite content, and perhaps it's only a human desire to need more than that," his strange ghillie suit shook as he sat on a scrubby patch of grass across from her.

"What about you then? You're human, don't you want more?" she queried as she looked down over her tanned skin to her bound arm. Already her own nakedness didn't bother her, and she couldn't stand to wear clothes in this heat.

"Well," he stroked his mustache as he pontificated. "There is more for me here than anywhere else. It's rather sublime, almost a validation of some divine force at work. . ."

"How do you mean?" she never quite followed this old man's logic, even though it often felt like something she wanted to think anyways.

"Well, look at their design. Legs bent at that angle seem completely impractical for a bipedal being, and their hooves, although broader than a common ornyx or gazelle's, seem like they would have to suffer some kind of joint disorder, but I've never seen such a problem among them. It's like they were created by some kind of artisan who strove for beauty, a wholeness of form rather than any kind of practicality," he pattered on, making clear that he had thought a great deal about the subject.

"That's an interesting idea," it seemed horribly un-scientific, but she didn't have any better theories. "It would be a whole lot easier if we could simply talk to them wouldn't it?" the silence of the Tribe was beginning to grate on her nerves. Even speaking here made her feel like she was interrupting some kind of universal caesura.

"No, no. Not at all. Quite the opposite in fact. As much as I enjoy our little talks, wouldn't it be amazing to have a full body form of communication? I think they understand you as much as they do because of the little imperceptible signals you give when you try to communicate. I'm sure the words are just noise to them, but every twitch of your lips, the way you hold yourself, where you look, all of those are involved in what you _say_to them."

"Well, you seem to understand them a lot more than I do. And now I'm not going to know what to do with myself when Doc comes to check on my arm again . . ." she ran a finger over the smooth dried grass forming the sling around her healing limb.

"Oh, just be as you usually are. They seem to be an excellent judge of character, and seemed pleased to take you in!" he chuckled softly to himself. "Anyways, I'm off. I hope your arm recovers quickly!" and with that he trod off back into the brush, leaving almost no sign of his passing.

* * *

And so a week passed. She felt guilty for being unable to fend for herself and eating all of their proffered food; however, their hospitality was keeping her alive, and she was grateful, but felt unable to express her gratitude. It was odd how the whole Tribe seemed to ignore Raston. Well . . . even more than her at least. It was simply like they didn't see him. And he had a habit of skirting around the edges of their society. Perhaps it was just the anthropologist in him.

She was getting to know the Tribe better though. One of her favorite pastimes was following around Bags, the one that always carried around a large woven sack and had a large white blotch between her eyes. Whereas finder seemed to focus on finding minute and precious substances, Bags focused much more on quantity over quality.

Nuts, berries, peas of some sort, and those strange yam-like tubers were all things that Bags would seek out around their little valley, and Agatha liked to help her in whatever ways she could. Although her arm was healing well, it was still bound in a sling, but with her good hand she would often help pluck a few errant smooth shelled nuts and drop them in the large sack. When those large full eyes looked up at her she thought that she could feel the gratitude, even if the face still seemed slightly uncaring in an alien way.

There had also been a day where a huge boar of some kind had wandered through the camp. The Tribe ignored it until it started rooting around the baskets they used to store food in. With a squeal, the hog became aggressive, charging towards Tough as she tried to shoo it away. Barely missing a beat, she leaned back, pulled her leg up, and hammered it down on the beasts head with a loud crack as it staggered back, dazed.

The rest of the Tribe came in, and Agatha was surprised to see that they didn't kill the beast. Rather, they just cowed it, delivering sharp kicks and pressing forward as a group until it fled with a panicked squeal. Their calm in the face of danger awed her, and she wished that she could have the same confidence in herself, but after what she'd been through, she wasn't sure if trusting in her own capabilities was something she would ever be willing to do again.

Doc had been mixing up strange herbs around her with a simple stone mortar and pestle recently. The smells were bizarre and completely unlike the food and poultices that she had grown accustomed to. Sometimes she would consume the bizarre tinctures herself, and look at Agatha afterward as if she desired a response. Sometimes Agatha would respond, trying to sign with her hands while she spoke as if she were learning sign language. But, she was confused, and she couldn't quite understand, other than she was not supposed to eat this . . . or was she, perhaps not yet? It was so hard to tell.

She asked Mr. Pebblebrook about the whole process after it had happened a few times. "Well, it seems that she's mixing the medicine for you," he ran a hand over the bald top of his head as he spoke, shrugging his shoulders. "But it's not ready yet? Perhaps it is medicine to help her make the correct medicine? I'm uncertain, and I don't believe I've ever seen her try anything quite like it," he shrugged with a good-natured smile.

It was just another mystery among the many questions she had floating around in her head. But Agatha was beginning to understand the old professor's interest in the Tribe, and his reluctance to leave. It wasn't that their way of life was better necessarily, just that it was incomparable. The communication, and the odd kinship were just unlike anything she had seen before. And as much as she missed speaking, the silence held its allure as well.

* * *

And so she found herself, sprawled out in the dappled shade of a thin bushy tree, reflecting on what had brought her here. Her arm didn't hurt her at all now. Doc would press against the skin under the sling and flick her ears in an encouraging fashion every morning. These appointments were getting stranger though. Agatha began to notice that the doctor's breasts, or . . . udders? were swelling, aureolas widening as they became more taut day by day.

When she had pointed this out, Doc grabbed her good hand with her smooth hard inhuman fingers and pressed it gently against the dual teats in turn. Agatha wasn't sure how to react, the brushy fur around the soft skinned mounds was smooth against her skin, and she could feel the warmth in them as Doc huffed, nostrils flaring.

Animal hands pressed against her own bared human breasts, prodding them quizzically. It was nice to have this personal contact, but she didn't know if she was supposed to be aroused, concerned, or just perplexed. She ran her slender fingers over the nipple of an animal teat, feeling the skin stiffen under her accidental caress. They must be wonderfully sensitive, but it was hard to imagine what it would feel like exactly. . .

This little ritual happened every few days, along with Doc eating that strange medicine she made. Agatha was coming to look forward to it. It was her most personal experience yet amongst the Tribe.

She was learning more from the other members as well. The one who had a splotch over her left eye had taught her to find animals where they had nested away to avoid the heavy noon sun. Tracks, as she had taken to calling her, didn't hunt the animals, and rarely actually disturbed them. Even amongst the quiet Tribe, she was the quietest, often sitting alone and watching the trees with odd relaxed content. Sometimes she would just sit there and watch a sleeping snake, or one of those funny long tailed monkeys that made little nests in the trees. It was quite calming, and Agatha felt like they were a part of nature rather than mere surveyor quantifying possible goods to be found and extracted.

The most sedentary of the group she called Carver, although admittedly, she was more of the general handy-person of the Tribe. The simple platters, Doc's mortars, and most of the other solid things the Tribe possessed were made by her, a slightly heavier set animal, with longer horns as well. Using simple scrapers as lathes she would find a scrap of wood and turn it into something amazing, smooth and exquisite in its simple detail. Agatha never felt quite comfortable around Carver, always afraid that she was somehow bothering the master at work, but the sounds of scraping stone on wood could be heard all throughout most of the day whether Agatha was watching her or not.

Weaver was much more accepting, and even encouraged Agatha, taking up strands of dry grass very slowly, holding one end in her teeth, and very methodically tying them together into a simple cord. Agatha could move her fingers of her broken arm well enough, but the splint made the process awkward and tiring. Her few lumpy strands were pitiful compared to Weaver's. This particular animal, with her twitching black ears, was the most vocal member of the Tribe, and she would let out a coarse honk that Agatha liked to think was laughter when her unpracticed hands knotted up the strands in the wrong order. There was no malice behind it though, and she kept her placid mentor-like demeanor at all times.

During the evenings, Raston would often come and visit her little lean-to, listening to her recount her daily experiences with relish. "They really have taken a shining to you," he smiled as he sat down with an awkward thump.

"Why don't you ever come closer when they're around? You always just seem to disappear . . ." she trailed off, leaning back against her mat.

"Oh, I wouldn't want to interfere. They took you in, but I came here myself. I know my own imperfections, and would prefer to keep them too myself," he looked up at the darkening sky with a sigh. "It's amazing what the world can be like when you really choose to look."

"I'm amazed as well, at all of this," she waved her hand vaguely. "I don't know if I really want anything more."

"I'm glad you feel that way as well," his voice was soft as he spoke. "Well, there's always more to see tomorrow, so until then," and with that he set off as he always did and Agatha laid back.

Tomorrow was always another day. At almost any other point in her life that would have scared her. She would have to perform, to succeed, to overcome an opposition to others as well as herself. But now, she was looking forward to the next day just to experience waking up again. Before, she had always fallen asleep wondering how long she would stay here, but on this night, she wondered why she would ever leave.

* * *

The morning came as it often did, with the routine check up with Doc. The medical practitioner had taken to indulging her curiosity and feeling all of the strange parts of Agatha's body in addition to her mending arm. She encouraged Agatha to do as well while taking time to explore Agatha's strange smooth skin, burned a dark bronze by the sun with her marble-like fingers. Doc's animal body was actually quite marvelous. The tight raised flesh from where Doc's horns rose was actually very pliant to her touch, and the velveteen end of her nose was amazingly soft. She could feel her huffing breath as her hands ran over her strange face with careful study.

But today, when Agatha's hands ran over her strange quivering animal teats there was a different sensation. Something hot, and then cool. She look down at her hand with odd surprise . . . milk? Was Doc pregnant . . . or?

She didn't have too long to think on the implication of this as the gazelle-like creature grabbed her moistened hand and brought it to her animal lips. The warmth was overwhelming as Doc suckled on Agatha's slender fingers hungrily, before pressing her hand down again to brush against her sensitive leaking teats. Doc let out a sigh of pleasure as she rose to her cloven hooves in front of the woman, looking down at her expectantly.

Agatha didn't know how to react, in a way this was so flattering, but she didn't know if she was supposed to be a surrogate mother or . . .

A warm teat brushed against her cheek and she looked up into Doc's large round eyes with their heavy lashes peering down at her with obvious need. Agatha understood, and she could barely believe what she was doing as she bent in with her head and rest her cheek against the warm fuzzy skin between the taut mounds of flesh before slowly taking one in between her lips.

The skin was soft and smooth. As her tongue ran over the taut ebon skin Doc let loose a sudden pining sigh as her body shook. With a tentative suckle, a thin jet of rich cream filled Agatha's mouth, with a strange flavor that was distinctly herbal and hauntingly familiar. It was delicious, clouding her senses with its hot taste as she reached her hands up and massaged the small scantily furred protrusion. It was the most direct connection she'd ever had with one of the Tribe, and possibly with another living being. Doc's smooth hard fingers ran through her hair as Agatha suckled harder, feeling the teat stiffen as she nibbled on it gently and was rewarded with a flood of savory liquid bliss that reminded her of the strange herbs that doc had taken to grinding on their past appointments.

Hoofed hands pulled her head in tighter as she let one smooth nipple slide loosely from her lips and engulfed the other with a passion. With renewed vigor, she suckled, pressing forward and pulling back, scraping her teeth along the sensitive flesh as prickly fur tickled the edges of her lips. The deep smell of Doc's animal scent filled her nostrils with an earthen musk that made her feel hot deep inside of herself as she nibbled and sucked till both teats were relieved and yet painfully dry.

Sliding back with a gasp, Agatha looked up at the beautiful creature in a new light; her heaving chest and flared nostrils huffing heavily. Doc offered her a hand, helping pull her to her feet, as they stepped out into the crisp morning air. In the pit of her stomach, the woman felt a strange wholeness, and an odd tingling that rose up her spine and made her feel as if she had just dove off of a cliff into a pool of the crispest water without even a splash.

That was when Doc carefully removed the splint on her arm, revealing the line it had left on her light flesh left undyed by the sun's rays. Agatha was worried, remembering that the casts she had seen others with in her bygone days had been left on for months. But Doc was impossible not to trust at this point as she peeled off the whole toughly bound apparatus.

They strode towards the center of the small village, drawing the Tribe behind them with Doc's wordless decrees. Something important was happening, and Agatha could tell. Stores of food, the best fruits and nuts were brought out and they all ate together in the center of the village, pressed in tightly as they enjoyed themselves. An almost tangible buzz of excitement filled the air, even perceptible through the lack of words. She felt like something had changed. This strange feast had pulled her inside of the Tribe. No longer just a tangential object of interest or pity, Agatha now felt like she truly belonged.

Finder rose along with Doc and they both strode off together. Everyone else stayed and ate on in beaming silence. Eventually, Agatha felt strong hard hands grab her shoulders and begin to rub and knead. It felt amazing, and as she looked back, she saw Tough's broad face behind her staring back with affection while her hands stretched Agatha's muscles out, rubbing in deep sensuous circles. Bag came in and examined her feet quizzically, poking and prodding them as if trying to figure out a puzzle, tickling inadvertently as her horn-like fingers prodded in between her dusty toes.

Carver was there as well, grabbing and moving her breasts as if she was considering a piece of fruit. She had none of the sensuous tact that Doc had had. Agatha laughed. They must be as curious as she was. She had never really considered how odd she must seem as a strange fleshy creature, perhaps they had just been leaving her alone out of a sense of propriety. Whatever it was, she was glad that they had broken through it.

Her hand reached out and stroked down the length of Weaver's tail, feeling her muscles twitch as the surprised Tribeswoman looked over her shoulder and twitched it with a teasing smile. It was surprisingly strong and incredibly flexible. Not particularly long, but an incredible appendage with smooth white fuzz on the underside and rougher delightfully stiff black fur on the top.

Finder and doc returned to the group to find them embroiled in inquisitive touching. Between them they carried doc's largest bowl like mortar filled with a strange bright red berry that Agatha had never seen before. They set the stone down with a gentle thump and Doc began to grind the berries with a rhythmic fervor, leaning in as she squashed them, arcing her back as she slid stone against stone until all that remained was a crimson pulp with a strange sweet and bitter smell.

With silent reverence, the Tribe all closed in on the pulpy cistern, the clicking of their hoofed digits audible as they all dipped their hands in the red mess, covering their fingers with the viscous carmine color. None of them raised their fingers to their mouths however, instead the Tribe turned towards the awestruck Agatha with a strange sense of communal purpose, hands dripping with odd intent.

She shivered as Track's hands were the first to close in, drawing two long red streaks down her sides. Immediately all of the others pressed in as well, covering her in the smooth slick sensations that left a faint tingling against her skin as they painted on strange and eclectic patterns. Finder ran her thick thumbs down under her eyes, leaving a dark trail towards her nose. Carver's roughened fingertips scraped in rough trails around her hips and legs as Tough's strong hard fingertips slid smoothly down the small of her back, making her shiver as she left off by pressing firmly against her tailbone.

The sensation of the whole Tribe touching her was immense, and she could barely keep track of all the hoof-like hands as Bags painted her thumbs and every other finger a solid brilliant red while another pair of hands that she could not see squeezed and squelched around her feet, leaving a tingling slick sensation in their wake.

Doc was the most careful of the group, and her sure hands painted with slow firm strokes around her breasts, making a strange sunburst pattern before pressing in with slick thumbs to paint her aureolas a deep crimson. Agatha moaned as the deft blunt fingers rubbed sensuously against them in small tight circles. The skilled hands then descended, to her belly just above her hips and began to draw another set of strange spoked patterns; but whereas the last set had been focused inwards, these blossomed out in radiating red lines that slid smoothly across her flesh.

The strange ritual continued, as ears flickered excitedly and wide dark eyes inspected their work. Some lines were reinforced, others were drawn anew in swaths of graceful motion until the last of the red color from the smooth hoof-hands had all been applied and each member of the Tribe began to clean their digits off with their long slightly rough pink tongues, lapping at the redness as if it were a great delicacy. Agatha could see their pleasured excitement as they lapped up the substance that reddened their curling tongues.

Sitting on their haunches around her, the Tribe focused inwards, linking arms and swaying to an unseen rhythm. Their black white and brown bodies undulated as they bobbed like wheat in a storm with amazing synchronicity. Agatha sat in the center, mesmerized by the hypnotizing rocking of their bodies as the tingle left by the red streaks on her body escalated to a pleasant smoldering sensation. The bright sun in the sky seemed to speed up, gliding across the heavens while her mind entered a hyper-aware self-contained microcosm of sensation. She could sense every aspect of those that surrounded her, every follicle of their uniquely patterned fur, every ridge on their horns, and their muscles bunching under their hides with their strange seated dance. A musty comforting animal smell merged with the sharp bitter tang of the berry paste and suffused her, mixing with the other sensations as they all melded into one sense of fullness that rose within her.

Suddenly, she gasped, opening her eyes and taking in a deep breath like a diver surfacing after impossible hours under the ocean. Painted sky going orange, the sun burned, descending in an arc towards the horizon. The circle had broken around her, but the Tribe still remained, watching her seated form carefully. A few flakes of the berry substance remained on her, but most had dried and flaked off, leaving dark patterns tattooed into her flesh. Agatha ran her hand along a dark stripe on her arm and shivered. The skin underneath felt loose, thick and animal in the best possible way.

Doc moved in, and the Tribe's ears perked up as they all turned their heads towards their recently woken charge. This was the moment they had all been waiting for. Doc's slender muzzle leaned in, velveteen nostrils huffing inches from Agatha's face as they both embraced each other. Animal hands wrapped around her shoulders as she grasped around the back of the strong creature's neck, pulling herself closer.

The kiss came naturally, there was no way it couldn't have, as their lips twitched against each other and the thick hot tongue pressed into her mouth while she licked across Doc's flat perfect teeth. Running her hand up the scrubby yet smooth fur on the back of her mentor's neck, Agatha reached up to brush against Doc's sensitive silky ears. She could feel the muscles twitch under the skin while Doc's tongue pressed in further, tickling the back of her throat. Her delicate human fingers ran over the ridges on Doc's short horns pulling her head against her own with gentle pressure before they both pulled back, panting amongst their silent but captive audience.

Then Doc's hands slid against her, running up her sides beneath her arm-pits in a long smooth sensuous slide before both moved in and cupped the soft flesh of her breasts. Agatha gasped at the sensation, feeling the burning tingle of the strange red paint intensified into a molten glow of sensation as the smooth tipped fingers began to rub and squeeze, kneading her flesh in a firm pulsing pattern of motion.

Around the strange inward sun-burst that the doctor had left, white delicate fur began to form, gradually at first, but then welling out with electric prickling. Agatha felt the flesh of her sensitive breasts pushed and compressed in the most erotic way imaginable as Doc leaned in and gave one of her darkly stained nipples a lap. The creature's delicate lips nibbled and nipped while her animal hands continued their dance of intense pressure. Pinching sensation driving her mad, Agatha leaned back with one arm on the dusty red soil and let the other hand grab the solid curved horn of her Tribe-mate. With one last erotic squeeze that made Agatha moan the lips ceased their teasing and when her horned head rose, Agatha's nipple had disappeared, subsumed by flat furry flesh that was receding into her chest as the hoofed hands continued their work.

As Doc turned her attention to the other nipple on her yet unattended receding breast, Agatha felt the other pattern Doc had left just above her hips flare into brilliant sensation. She couldn't see past her mentor's head as it suckled away at her receding humanity, but she let her hand slide off of the grooved horn to rub at herself with fervent need mixed with curiosity. The centers of the dual radiating patterns blazed with sensitivity, and the skin felt impossibly tender in the best of ways. She slid her hand carefully over the obscured flesh as her human mamaries receded, goaded along by Doc's careful ministrations. It felt so right, the smooth warm sensation under her fingers, and it wasn't until Doc's head pulled back that she understood why.

Her chest was now flat and strong, white fur radiating out from where Doc had shaped her, and below, her hand rubbed over the two darkening nubs of tender animal teats forming above her moistening crotch. Her new loose animal hide twitched around her finger tips as Doc's palm pressed against the back of her hand, pushing in against the taut new nipple as the flesh under it rose up slightly into a barely furred shallow peak of cervine femininity. Guided by Doc, she rubbed against both of them as her areolas widened and the teats pressed out into thick dark and wildly sensitive nubs.

Agatha ran one hand over the smooth white fur of her chest, her other grasping at both of her new and wonderfully sensitive teats as Doc arose to sit with the other members of the Tribe. The woman now knew exactly what it felt like to have tight jostling animal mamaries like those of the Tribe, and now she knew, she was pleased. It was similar to how her breasts had felt, but condensed, compacted into a sizzling and yet mellow sensation that made her grit her teeth as she explored her new flesh thoroughly, now far too curious and excited to be abashed in any way shape or form.

Tough was the next of the Tribe to rise, and she strode over to behind the preoccupied human and sat with a thump, embracing her from behind. With a huff, her broad muzzle nuzzled against the back of her neck tenderly. She then slid both of her strong hands down Agatha's back with a drawn out forceful motion. Agatha groaned at the insistent heaviness, so different from Doc's careful touch. Both unyielding and worn hoof-hands grasped around her hips and began to knead and pull as her skin began to jerk and twitch, thickening into a loose animal hide while dark straw colored fur tickled in along her buttocks.

The quickly changing woman let out a startled giggle as Tough pulled up at her haunches, toppling her forward onto her hands and knees which dug against the grit of the soft soil. She could feel hot breath against her haunches a second before a hot wet rasp of a tongue ran down the small of her back, sliding lower in long strokes as it conjured up a dark stripe of fur. The sound of wet lewd laps was audible as the tongue slipped lower, teasing the cheeks of her rounded bottom before sliding over her anus in a boisterous stroke.

Letting loose a startled yelp of surprise, Agatha's eyes widened as the tip of the powerful tongue slid around the edges of her ass. Her body tensed and her still human hands dug into the dirt under her as the bold tongue prodded teasingly before stiffening and sliding forward with a sustained shove, entering her as her muscles writhed in confused pleasure. The tongue built up a sliding rhythm, pressing in with pressure that made her eyes water and then sliding out and lapping up at the tightness gathering above.

Hard boney fingertips pinched and kneaded at her tailbone as the dark fur stripe reached it and her back arched as a hot tension built up and was immediately relieved by a sensuous crack. Black fur covered the nub of a tail as she drilled her tongue back inside of Agatha's virgin ass, hands kneading and pulling as the tail cracked out longer, joint by joint as it began to wag and pull, developing muscles that stretched the taut ring of her anus and grasped at the tongue flickering inside of her. It crackled out until it waved just to the top of her thighs, gyrating wildly as Tough made one last desperate shove inside of her and pulled out in one long smooth stroke, teasing the edges of her altered animal anus before sliding all the way up to her new jerking tail tip.

As Tough rose, Agatha reached a hand around behind herself in disbelief. She could feel the short silky limb as she tugged it to and fro. It seemed to match her mood perfectly as it settled into a raised up and animated state, and her fingers slid down past the stretched ring of her supple animal anus, feeling her new muscles jerk and twitch. She barely noticed as Weaver and Carver both moved in on opposite sides of her. Two limber sets of hands, Carver's roughened with constant scraping against her stone tools and Weaver's worn perfectly smooth, gently coaxed her into a sitting position careful that she tucked her new tail underneath herself so as not to jam it.

Weaver wrapped her arms around Agatha's so that they both gripped each other's shoulders. She then slid back in one amazingly smooth motion, the frizzy fur of her arms scraping along the woman's. She grasped her dexterous hands around each of her arms respectively and slid up and down them with rhythmic motions, smooth charged sensation causing more and more friction as fur began to grow in, dun on her shoulders fading into a white that raced towards her forearms. The dull pain in Agatha's newly mended arm faded as the wondrously smooth fingers ran over her waiting flesh.

Across from her, Carver sat and sprawled out her legs so that they were spread out on the ground alongside the outsides of Agatha's fleshy human limbs. The changing woman felt the old Tribeswoman's worn broad cloven hooves against the exterior of her thighs as the stern animal legs begin to squeeze in at her own. The broad legs were so strong as they rubbed against her, not gently, but with constant purpose. Carver's rough hands leaned in and rubbed up Agatha's shins as they condensed into slender animal limbs, skin jostling as they sprouted a bristly thin coat.

Having tickled in a thick beautiful hide along the woman's svelte limbs Weaver then grasped her hands and pressed them together carefully, holding them so that Agatha felt like she was praying, which was how she felt as well, somehow feeling closer to divinity then she ever had with a racing anticipation building up inside of herself. Weaver's agile hoof-fingered hands closed around Agatha's and began to rub, squeezing in, rubbing over and between her fingers, pressing against her palms and the back of her hands with a firm pressure, always keeping her fingers in groups of two and her thumb quite separate with smooth steady motion.

Agatha's toes wriggled in pleasure as the hide on her legs became tight and resilient. Her thighs bulked up with cervine power as they were massaged gaining muscle and mass as her calves creaked slightly shorter and Carver moved on to her still human feet. Grabbing both in-between her hands more used to shaping stone and wood, she began to squeeze and knead roughly. Agatha's breath caught in her throat, it was not quite painful, more like, a discomfort that she had never even considered before. Her bones creaked and merged as her foot was kneaded out longer into a different more slender part of her leg. When carver switched to her next foot the process was no less unusual, but it did make her muscles begin to tense and pull as if they wanted more.

Something strange was happening to her hands, the smooth rubbing was now interspersed with clicks that she could feel resonate up her bones. As Agatha clenched her fingers she found that she could not pull them apart from each other, but it was not uncomfortable or constraining. Her nails darkened and spread to cover the entire last knuckle of her changing hands and her thumbs swelled and grew to match her other merging sets while they clacked against Weaver's careful hands. Gaining power and surprising dexterity her fingers grew longer and wider, taking on a certain grace as a velvet hay colored fur covered them up to the bases of the finishing hoofed fingertips.

Carver wasted not time nor movement as she grasped both pocked hands around Agatha's still awkwardly human toes. The predominant big toes on her feet began to merge with the other next to it, leaving her with four block digits that swelled evenly. Black enamel pushed out around them as they began to stop wriggling and Carver set them in their place, two broad curved hooves in front and two black blocky dewclaws that she pulled around behind with a strange tug of skin and sinew. Agatha could feel the power and purpose of her new cloven hooves as she flexed her completed leg while carver pressed and kneaded at her other. It felt so right as it scraped against the cooling red earth, leaving a familiar two pronged track that she had come to associate with her new home.

Weaver's hands slid away, leaving Agatha to hold up her strong yet graceful three fingered hands in front of her amazed face. As she rubbed them together she could feel the click against her skeleton in a way more sensitive than her old fleshy fingers could ever have been. The rubbing rhythm she felt when brushing past the fur on her strong chest was different, sensitive in a way she had never imagined before. Weaver's eyes beamed with affection as she took one of the newly altered human's hands between her own and brought it to her lips, baptizing each finger by taking it in her flexible mouth and running her long tongue along its length, clicking her strong teeth against the dark enamel and sending resounding shocks through both of them. Agatha offered her other hand with a blush as she rubbed her newly blessed one, still moist with passionate spittle against the smooth flesh of her teats, feeling how flawless hard and perfect each new digit was as it rubbed against the suede soft skin around her ebon nipples.

As the two craftsman stood up and left her, smooth and rough fingers sliding and clacking off Agatha's beautifully sculpted limbs, she pulled her legs up in front of her, automatically familiar with the longer tensile strength that they contained and how they sank slightly into the gritty soil underneath her. Silently, and with little ceremony Tracks approached, leaning down to rub at her back and shoulders with delicate but firm intensity. Lithe cervine hands ran up and down her back, sliding over the thick coat of forming sandy colored fur that spread from her hips up to her shoulders. Agatha leaned forwards with a smile as the hands moved up, rubbing around her neck as her muscles bunched, becoming wiry and strong, but loose and relaxed as the hands eventually left off without a whisper.

Finder and Bags were the last to arise and approach Agatha with barely restrained anticipation. Somehow, it was becoming easier to read their expressions. Every flicker of an ear or giddy rubbing of hoofed fingers together spoke volumes to her. The scent of celebration was in the air, mixed with lust and joy that suffused her every sense.

Bags knelt behind her, hoofed hands rubbing up the light brown fur covering her back as Finder lounged in front of her, legs trailing to the side as her talented hands rubbed up the taut flat white chest. Both pairs of hands met around her neck, forming a kneading rubbing circle as they coaxed the fur slowly up Agatha's collar. Her neck felt stiff and she rolled it from side to side while the hands pushed in with firm pressure and gently, insistently, pulled her head upwards. Her breath caught in her throat as the hands under her chin lifted and her neck stretched further, gaining a thick sinewy strength as it was pulled out with two gentle cracking pops. Her groan of pleasure turned into a bleating growl that expressed her need more than words ever could as she rolled her head with new found freedom of movement.

Finder lifted Agatha's chin with a strong finger and knelt in, turning her head and closing her large calm eyes as their lips met. Agatha could feel the soft velveteen fur brush against her as she opened her mouth and they both lapped into each others hot maws with wild passionate strokes. Hot cervine breath panted against her skin as an indistinct but amazingly powerful pressure built up in her jaw. Finder's clever tongue slid along her gums as they grew hot and sensitive, stretching as she felt the strange thin human teeth begin to gain the flat smooth heft that they so rightly deserved. Agatha's tongue began to pulse and swell, gaining a rougher texture as it became longer, thicker, and blessed with an odd tensile strength that she'd never considered before.

From behind, Bags' breath huffed against her neck as two hard but gentle hands began to rub her earlobes between practiced fingers with insistent pressure. She rubbed in small circles up and down, pulling and teasing as the whorls began to flatten and smooth out, flesh becoming hot putty in her caring hands. She curled the changing skin in on itself rubbing it together as it grew a thin velveteen coat, sandy tan on the outside and white with black accents on the inside while she pulled the forming soft flesh longer.

While their lips locked together Finder traced both hands up from her now wiry cervine shoulders up her new flexible neck to rest on her cheeks. Smooth dark thumbs rubbed at the ridges of her cheek bones as Agatha's face began to pull slightly forwards. There was a strange feeling in her sinuses as their lips nibbled at each other and her face was coaxed out longer. A stiff thumb and finger rubbed together over the bridge of her nose as it began to flatten out at the end of her forming muzzle, growing a soft coat of black fuzz that traced up to her eyes. With great relish, Finder broke their intimate kiss and began stroking up the sides of her stretching face with warm hot laps as her jaw cracked out further. The teasing tip of the tawdry tongue flicked across her nostrils as they pulled into velveteen slits that flared and huffed in new scents of animal lust in the air as they stretched into their proper place. Agatha's own lips writhed and thickened as she ran her amazingly adroit tongue over them, feeling their new supple strength and flexibility.

Agatha felt muscles form and twitch as Bags massaged her scalp, letting her long ears flick about and swivel, hearing everything with a strange new directional focus. The teasing cervine nibbled at the fuzzy tips of her new semaphore-like appendages. As the hoofed hands rubbed and massaged her scalp, her longer matted hair receded, fading into that perfect shade of light brown at a length that matched the rest of her short coat. But then the teasing hands changed tact, focusing on two distinct spots just above her forehead, and rubbing in at them with small intense worrying pressure. Agatha's hardened hands tightened into balls as a throbbing tension built up in her head, growing in scope and scale as Bags rubbed against her soft flesh until there was a strange tapping that reverberated through her skull as hard fingers ran over the enameled buds of her dark forming horns.

Leaning forwards into the strange face-washing, Agatha let out a husky sigh of ecstasy as her muzzle creaked out into its final rightful place, pointed pattern of black white and brown covering its entirety. Finder's tongue slowed down as she lapped up towards the woman's still human eyes. Gently, velvet soft lips pulled on her eyelashes, combing over them as they pulled out longer and thicker. Hot breath huffed against Agatha's brow as the warm tongue slid tenderly over her eyelids, causing inky iridescence to seep into her mind's eye. After the slick rough tongue had anointed each closed eye, Agatha opened them, revealing her now large dark doe-like orbs. The world looked so different. She could see so much more, but in a different sort of diffuse focus that allowed her to pick out all the movements of the Tribe around her and every thin leaf swinging in the approaching evening breeze.

A garbled ululation escaped her soft flexible lips as her ebony horns were coaxed out longer. Every ridge pressing out of her flesh made her spine tingle and tail flick about wildly. Bags ran a hard finger across the ridges, making a tapping vibration that rang through every bone in her body. The hard protrusions were grasped and tugged, caressed and teased out longer until they finally set into their proper size with a climactic tingling sensation.

Agatha was left sprawled out on the ground, lost in new sensations as she ran her hoofed hands over her new muzzle, pink tongue licking out around her fingers experimentally as her other hand rubbed along the length of her new horns, buzzing along them like a guiro and sending pleasant vibrations through her entire body. A cute bleat of pleasure escaped between her lips as her moistened digits slid down, past her teats, to tease at her sensitive clit and slide around the edges of her slick hot labia.

Around her, the Tribe's amorous intentions became evident as various couples had begun to tease and caress each other. Tough and Finder pulled their bodies close with Finder straddled on her lap so that their teats mashed together as they kissed passionately. Weaver, Carver, and Bags had formed a strange triangle of tangled limbs as they teased and rubbed each other's femininity with indiscriminate hoofed fingers and pinched and teased at their dark smooth skinned nipples. Tracks sat to the side, watching it all with calm eyes as she stroked her own clitoris with soft tender strokes.

Sitting, calm in the last rays of the setting sun, Doc looked in towards Agatha, beckoning her with a wink of her long lashes and a come hither flick of her expressive ears. Unable to explain how she understood the gesture, Agatha rose unsteadily to her new long shapely legs, feeling her hooves dig in with amazing purchase as she stepped over to Doc in long careful strides. Leaning forward, her previous caretaker knelt in, running hands down the side of her charge's new form in a celebration of her freshly formed beauty. Silently, her head leaned in between Agatha's svelte legs and her nose huffed over her moist and needy snatch.

Panting in need, Agatha's long cervine ears flicked about randomly as Doc rubbed her muzzle against her labia, bumping against her clitoris with silken scrapings while her hard smooth hands rose up to caress her shapely teats just above. Letting out a strange wordless animal ululation that perfectly described her desire, Agatha grabbed the serrated horns of her caretaker turned lover and pulled that tender muzzle against her sensitive cleft.

Exploding into mind shattering electric sensation, her labia quivered as the long textured pink tongue slid along the outside of it, all the way up to grind and tease against her clit with practiced pressure that drilled into the core of her being. The hot slip of flesh slid inside her folds, sliding against the clenched entrance inside with firm insistence. As the tongue licked, her labia stretched out, clit swelling slightly atop it as the fleshy pink darkened into a warm wet slick blackness. The sensations were so profound that her legs crumpled under her, and she slid back onto the ground with a thump.

Unphased, the smooth hardness of her new fingers moved towards her newly altered femininity, sliding along the slick edges as she lay back on the earth in disbelief that anything could feel so good. With a sly curl of her lips, Doc moved in from the side, grabbing her dampened finger and licking the fiery hot lust off with hot lavishing strokes that made her heart quake inside her chest. Agatha leaned her head back and her horns scraped and dug into the ground while doc guided her hands to her soft warm nipples. Teasing and groping, she felt ripples of pleasure in Doc's loose skin as the more practiced Tribeswoman pulled at her feminine folds with her soft adroit lips and lapped against her hot pussy with flickering lashes that made the convert's long hoofed legs pedal uselessly against the air.

With a final huff, Doc pulled back, warm panting breath huffing as she smelled the new Tribeswoman's rising lust. She swung her haunches deftly over her protege's head, straddling her with dark furred tail raised as she briefly sat on her short white furred chest. Her delicate grip pinched Agatha's nipples between thumbs and smooth fingertips as she lifted her rear presenting her glistening dark-lipped female folds to Agatha's enraptured face.

The smell. The overwhelming scent of cervine lust was so strong, so tantalizing. Agatha's strong neck bent forward, pressing the blunt end of her soft muzzle against Doc's clenched labia, nostrils flaring wildly as she huffed in that rich and earthy scent. The hot panting against her most delicate organ made Doc moan out a gargled growl of pleasure as she leaned down, and lapped between the valley of the jostling teat flesh to ravish the hot nub of Agatha's clit. Gritting her teeth at the sensation, Agatha returned the favor and indiscriminately lapped out with her now long and finessed tongue to press against the glistening button of Doc's own slickened clitoris.

Their techniques differed, Doc relying on insistent pressure and careful teasing laps while Agatha attacked the problem with the wild joy of inexperience. Both of them shuddered against each other as their flesh was stroked and ravaged by rough hot wet tongues that savored the rising taste of female pleasure as their flaring nostrils breathed loudly against taut quivering skin. Reaching under Doc's supple body, Agatha found the hot nubs of flesh above her moist slit and began kneading her teats roughly as they both continued to lick against needy folds feeling the waves of ecstasy roll through their loose animal hides in shuddering waves.

Doc's adventurous hand slid down around the soft white fur of Agatha's crotch, pressing in and rubbing sensuously as she pressed it up towards the glistening black femininity that she teased. Flanking the folds with her fingertips, she spread her fingers wide, pulling the flesh taut and revealing the clenched inner orifice that she stroked once with her tongue before tensing and pressing against it with insistent pressure. Agatha shuddered a she felt herself clench needfully around the hot long slip of flesh that pushed inside of her, making her inner walls clench and writhe with contractions that made her ears flicker wildly in pleasure.

Even through the searing pleasure, Agatha felt obligated to reciprocate. Taking both of her smooth hoofed hands, she planted them on either side of Doc's twitching vagina, opening her up as she felt her hips rock slightly of their own volition. Pressing her velveteen nose against that sodden snatch, Agatha huffed out warm breath before drilling forward with her tongue, pressing through the clenching muscle into a writhing hot bed of flesh in one piercing stroke. Doc sucked in a breath through clenched teeth as the broad tongue began to pulse and twist within her and her insides began to jerk wildly of their own volition.

Standing straight into the cooling air, Doc's tail flickered as she increased the stakes, bringing her other hand up to rub teasing circles against her new Tribeswoman's pulsing needy clit while her other still stroked and stretched her taut labia, occasionally taking the time to run down the edge around her pumping tongue. Every motion she made was designed to delight as she rubbed and kneaded, making a throaty purr of pleasure as Agatha's clenching contractions around her became more frequent and intense, building slowly with the promise of something earth-shattering looming on the horizon.

Fingertips clicking together as she shook visibly with pleasure, Agatha sandwiched Doc's soft button clit between her two hands as her other fingers still massaged the outside of her leaking slick vagina. Doc's Long tongue slid in and out, drumming against her insides as it twisted and tasted her clenched lust, Agatha squeezed her eyes shut and strained her neck forward, strong rubbery lips pressed tight against the tight hot labia as she strained her tongue forward, extending further than she imagined possible as the clenching depths pulled her deeper and deeper.

At the same time, Doc's tongue plunged deep inside Agatha's clenching hot tunnel of flesh feeling every muscular spasm as they both rocked their hips and held their breaths in the penultimate state of anticipation before teetering over the precipice of female orgasm. Dark lipped labias leaked out trails of musky clear pleasure as they both plumbed each other's depths, fingers kneading and pulling, teasing electrically sensitive clits as their soft nostrils flared and huffed over sensitive flesh. Seemingly ceaseless waves of body wide pleasure coursed through them as Doc rocked her hips, grinding against Agatha as the former human scraped her strong hooves against the ground, leaving little furrows behind her. Pink hot textured tongues were clenched and writhed around, pulled and grasped at by insatiable inner reserves of constricting energy while a blazing heat rose into the pit of their stomachs and spread out, radiating through their bodies with mind-searing pleasure as their bliss transcended their mortal coils and catapulted off into something divine.

Eventually, their rocking clenching rhythm died down and Doc collapsed on top of her new companion's exhausted form. They had just enough strength left to pull themselves properly together, Agatha's back against Doc's front as the medical savor turned lover embraced her tenderly. The new member of the Tribe felt perfectly comfortable, feeling the warmth of compassion press against her as both of them slowly drifted off into dreams, accompanied by the rest of the Tribe, exhausted after their particularly jubilant celebration.

* * *

The next day, things returned to a normal that Agatha felt like she had been waiting for her whole life. First the thing in the morning the Tribe pulled themselves from the dusty village square and waded into the cool crisp stream. She was in the middle of them, returning Finder's mischievous splashes as they all helped each other scrub their bristly fur clean, causing a muddy haze to seep downstream after them as their hooves upset the clay under the slow current.

Finally understanding, Agatha helped Bags gather yams, and discovered the way to tell if they were rotted on the inside with out opening them. She joined in a wresting match with Tough and Finder, only to find that she still had much to learn. With her arm now perfectly operational, she joined Weaver, and learned the more complex knots that could be tied by joining four, five, or even eight strands together at the same time. Instead of teaching Agatha herself, Carver just gave her a small flint awl, and flat chunk of hardwood, wishing her the best of luck.

Her time with Doc was spend between learning about the various properties of the local vegetation and exploring each other's bodies, leaning into passionate kisses while their smooth hooves wandered over their svelte forms.

Towards the end of the blissful day, Agatha's ears perked up with a start. She had completely forgotten about Raston. She asked Doc about him, but the answer was a tilted head and a confused look.

No, she tried to explain. Like the way I was. A man; wearing a large grassy shirt. Very old. White Hair.

But regardless of who she asked, none of the Tribe seemed to understand. Even Tracks, the most observant of them had never any traces of another being such as her near the Tribe.

Agatha returned to her little lean-to that she had first woken up in, looking down into the sandy soil. There were still a few of her old small human footprints in the sand, but no sign of Raston's large rough self-fashioned shoes. . .

Doc found her, sitting there by herself looking up at the sky, and leaned in behind her with a questioning air.

It was just strange, Agatha thought that there had been another. Someone who helped her understand the Tribe as an outsider. He had been kind, and made her think about what she really wanted out of her life.

Leaning in behind and nibbling an ear tenderly, Doc suggested that it might have just been inside of her all along. When she stumbled in she was in terrible shape, perhaps the man was just something she made to cope with her situation?

But it had seemed so real. He was genuinely caring, and had helped her understand when she was too lost to even make sense of anything.

Doc patted her shoulder comfortingly, stroking down her strong neck. If the old man did exist, and had lived out here alone for so long, then surely he would be fine. He was alone by his own volition.

Agatha smiled as she rose to her hooves, dusting her legs off as she walked back towards the rest of the village with Doc in tow. She had everything that she wanted, and hoped deep inside of herself that everyone else did too.