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The village of Erith was silent as night fell, the muddy streets empty and the homes dark, their doors bolted and curtains drawn. The only soul to be found was a young alabaster wolf, having only recently come of age. He wore only a wreath of flowers upon his head, the rest of his body as bare as the day he'd been born into the world. The wolf was a pretty thing, lithe and tall, his features fair, almost feminine. His eyes, blue as the sky, watched the village's main street intently, hands clasped to his chest as he drew in short, anxious breaths. On his left rested a bushel of apples, and on his right, a barrel of cider, the contents fizzing gently. However, the usually comforting noise did little to soothe the wolf's anxiety. He was an offering, much like the items on either side of him, the most recent offering to a being nobody in the village had ever seen but knew all too well. Nobody was sure when the bargain had been struck, yet the villagers were intent on upholding their end, just as their forefathers had, and theirs before them, ad infinitum. Each year, on the first day of spring, a virgin sacrifice was selected and offered to a creature known only to the villagers as 'Beast', along with an offering of the finest apples and sweetest cider produced by the village. In return, this creature would bless their fields and orchards, ensuring a prosperous year.

Meekah was the most recent sacrifice, and as the chill of the night crept down his spine, he couldn't help but wonder if the village headman had made a mistake in choosing him. At first, he had been honoured - a feast had been held in his name, and his family had been showered in gifts, but it was now that the time had come to perform his duties that the reality of his situation had been allowed to settle in.

Nobody knew exactly what happened to the sacrifices offered to the Beast, but none had ever been seen again.

This is a mistake, he then spoke, the sound of his own voice startling him, and for a moment, he considered fleeing into the night to seek sanctuary at one of the neighbouring villages or to hide until dawn. As these thoughts of running filled his mind, a sound caught the wolf's attention, his eyes widening and body stiffening as he stared into the gloom. It was a familiar sound, that of hooves on mud, though far heavier than anything he'd ever heard. As they grew closer, he became aware of a scent on the night air, a potent, masculine scent that turned his cheeks crimson and made his stomach tighten. For what felt like hours, Meekah stood there, motionless, staring, unable to do anything more than breathe, until finally, a shape began to emerge from the darkness.

It was a feral horse, though far larger than any he'd ever seen, feral or otherwise, standing a head taller than any of the single-story homes on either side of the street. The hair covering its body was as dark as night itself. Its mane was unkempt and wild, so much so that only the creature's thick-lipped mouth was visible, dark pouting lips protruding from a veil of thick black hair that hung so low that it almost touched the ground. Its muscular body almost took up the entire width of the street. As it approached, the far smaller wolf couldn't help but notice the heavy balls that hung and swayed beneath the horse's bulk with each thunderous step it took. Meekah was frightened, yet he couldn't deny that the horse was beautiful in a terrible way.

Finally, the Beast stopped, standing at arm's length from Meekah who, suddenly remembering what the headman had told him earlier that day, snapped out of his stunned state and took a step back, gesturing to both the barrel of cider and bushel of apples with a slight bow.

Snorting, the Beast lowered its head towards the wolf and his fellow offerings, sniffing first the apples, then the cider, and finally Meekah himself. It was a strange sensation, and the monstrous horse's breath was almost unbearably warm. Yet, the wolf couldn't help but let slip a soft, trembling moan as it washed over him with each exhalation the horse made between each long, deep snort. Seemingly satisfied, the horse turned its attention to the apples, its thick lips parting to reveal the blackened flesh of its mouth and tongue, which contrasted against the almost dazzlingly white teeth that filled that dark maw. The tongue that slid out from between those lips was as long as the wolf's arm and almost twice as wide as he was, looking more like an incredibly thick unrolling carpet as it scooped up the entire bushel and drew it back into its waiting, salivating maw, along with the patch of muddy ground it had been resting on, leaving behind a shallow hole where the bushel had once rested. In one smooth motion, the Beast swallowed the offered fruit in a single gulp, not bothering to chew before moving on to the cider. With wide eyes, the wolf watched as the horse's tongue emerged again, effortlessly flicking the barrel's lid off before wrapping its lips around the barrel itself, drawing half of it into its mouth. Raising its head high and then tilting it back, the Beast drank the contents in three deep gulps. Through the veil of hair, Meekah could faintly see its thick throat bulge with each, the smooth undulating motions almost hypnotic. With the final gulp, the barrel was spat aside, and the horse gave a thunderous belch, glistening strings of saliva dangling from its lips and chin as it then turned its attention to Meekah, who now understood what his fate would be as the Beast lowered its head a third time.

Closing his eyes, the wolf clasped his hands together and began to utter a prayer to whatever deity might have been listening at that particular moment. Again, that unbearably warm breath washed over him, provoking yet another moan from his parted lips, the wolf trying to make peace with the fact that he was to be a meal for the monster as the wet sounds of its lips parting a final time filled his ears... and then, as he stood there, waiting to be swallowed, he realised that nothing had happened. Slowly, he opened an eye and was met by a wall of black, glistening flesh, the Beast's tongue hanging mere inches from his body, warmth radiating from that slimy flesh that smelt sweet of the apples and cider it had just consumed. Confused, Meekah tried to peer through the veil of hair that hid the creature's face from view, and as if to answer his unspoken question, the horse gave a snort, the tip of its tongue curled, snaking up between the wolf's thighs to gently prod at his genitals, an act that drew a startled gasp of pleasure from the wolf. In comparison to others who called the land of Jizzral home, his genitals were unremarkable, perhaps even a little on the small side for a wolf of his age, his hanging sac no larger than a coin purse, and his canine length a mere five or so inches in length as it was coaxed from its sheath by the insistent tongue tip of the horse.

Ah, that feels n-nice, he spoke softly, his voice barely a whisper as he raised his hands to rest against the wall of flesh before him, gently caressing it as his hips have a series of short, instinctual thrusts, the narrow tip of his length prodding the surface of the horse's tongue as it gave a deep snort of approval. Slowly, Meekah then pressed the front of his body against it, his eyes half-lidded and legs parting to provide the horse with more space to explore, clawed toes curling in the mud as he idly humped and pumped his now erect cock against the uneven surface of that tongue. Slowly, the muscle curled up between his thighs, the tip soon prodding against his shapely backside, much to the wolf's surprise. Turning his gave upwards, he was met by the sight of the horse's black maw, and he felt as if he were staring into a starless night sky, a brief flash of fear filling his mind, though as quickly as it came, it left, replaced by foreign pleasure as the tip of the horse's tongue wormed its way between his spit-slathered buttocks, proceeding to press and push against his virgin pucker. Please, h-hah, be gentle, he moaned, realising what was about to happen as he closed his eyes, grinding his now leaking length against the tongue that intended to rob him of his virginity. His fur had become damp with sweat and spit, his own breaths heavy and irregular, his mind a jumbled mess of pleasure and apprehension.

And then, with a faint and sticky 'pop', the tip of the horse's tongue had entered him.

Meekah's mind went blank, his eyes rolling in their sockets as his yielding asshole was fed inch after inch of ever-widening horse tongue, his hands clutching fistfuls of undulating flesh while his feet kicked and spasmed, and as he was filled, he faintly became aware of the fact that the ground beneath his feet had vanished. The horse had lifted him, tilting its head back slightly so that he was now laying on its tongue as if it were a bed, his cock sandwiched between his belly and that warm mass of flesh, legs spread and hanging uselessly over either side of that steadily pumping muscle as it worked its way deeper into his asshole, twisting and curling, assaulting his prostate and stretching him wider than he'd ever thought possible. Every inch of his body felt as if it'd been set on fire, mouth agape and moaning against the horse's tongue as he was taken for the first time, and no longer caring that his first time might very well be his last. It soon felt as if the horse's tongue had worked its way into his gut, his stomach bulging with each thrust and push of that slimy muscle.

Oh Gods! the wolf screamed into the Beast's yawning maw, his back arching as his cock erupted against its tongue, painting both that black flesh and his own stomach with thick streaks of pearlescent seed. With another deep snort and spurred on by the taste of the wolf's first orgasm, the Beast doubled its efforts, all the while slowly drawing Meekah into its maw as the wolf screamed and gasped, his body writhing in bliss. T-Take me, I - hnnnng - I am yours! I love you, I love you, I lo- the wolf babbled and whined, even as the Beast's maw finally closed around him, plunging him into warmth and darkness. He didn't know how long he was in there, an hour, weeks, months Time lost all meaning as he was fucked stupid by the tongue that filled him, working him over and not giving him a second respite. It was only when that muscle finally withdrew from his insides and the chill of the night returned that Meekah realised he'd been spat from the horse's lips, landing with a groan on the muddy ground below the monster. Blinking away stars, he watched thin strings of his own seed slowly drip and dangle from those pouting lips and suddenly became aware of just how spent he was, his groin aching and his body almost numb, the wolf unable to so much as lift his head, let alone stand.

Whaaa... he groaned, staring up at the horse, only to notice something that hadn't been there before.

A cock.

From the Beast's own sheath had emerged a gargantuan cock, as long as its body and almost as thick, the flared tip drooling murky black fluid that sizzled and spat as it pooled and mingled with the cool mud below. Licking its lips, the Beast let loose a snort and tensed, its cock rising and slapping against the underside of its muscular body excitedly. Staring in disbelief, the wolf almost laughed, using what little remained of his strength to try and part his legs. He didn't know if his body could handle a cock of such size, and at that moment, he didn't care - he just wanted to be full again, consequences be damned. Yet, the Beast had something else planned for the wolf. With a sudden whinny, the monster tossed its head back and reared up, forelimbs kicking at the air as it seemingly came - thick ropes of that black, natural seed were spart from its now widening urethra. These sticky ropes of horse spunk clung to the wolf's body and fur and then started to draw him back towards the throbbing length of the monster, like a fisherman's net hauling in a catch. He was too tired to struggle, and when he felt his feet slowly slide into that yawning piss slit, he could only muster a meek moan of confusion and protest. His ankles and legs soon followed, the internal walls of that immense length massaging his tired body as he was drawn ever deeper, the flared tip sliding up and over his hips, his spent cock spitting what little seed it could muster against the walls of the Beast's cock as it swallowed him. Before long, his entire body was slowly sliding down that equine shaft, dragged deeper by the seed that clung to his lithe form like glue.

As it felt the wolf enter its heavy sac, becoming partially submerged in thick bubbling seed, the Beast let loose a slow, rumbling breath of satisfaction, ceasing its rearing and planting all four hooves firmly against the ground before it then began to move, dragging its prize towards the village's orchards. The wolf could do little else but feebly squirm and whine, his body tumbling this way and that with every step the Beast took, and he soon became aware of the fact that something was happening to him. He felt as if his body was growing softer, harder to move than it already had been, as if he were slowly sinking into the pool of black horse cum that had now risen to past his navel, sizzling and bubbling as it licked at his fur and flesh.

I-I'm melting, he spoke aloud, though there was no fear in his voice, the wolf too tired to fear his fate as he leant back against the warm interior of that swaying sac, his eyes closing as simply relaxed and allowed himself to sink further. It felt as if he'd been submerged in a warm bath after a hard day of work, and all he wanted to do was enjoy that moment of respite, slowly slipping into a deep, calm slumber.

By the time the Beast had reached the orchards, the moon had risen high into the night sky, bathing the rows of trees in pale light. Beneath the monster's bulk hung its sac, now still and fatter than it had been already. The sacrifice had been made, and now it was time for the creature to uphold its end of the bargain. It spoke for the first time that night, though the language was old and strange and one that no mortal had heard in untold centuries. As it spoke, its heavy balls began to churn and clench, bringing their contents to a roiling boil before the Beast then came, painting the landscape before it in thick boiling streaks of inky equine seed that began to snake and slither its way between the trees, spreading throughout the trees of the orchards and sinking into the mud. The horse's orgasm only ended when the moon began to wane and dip beyond the distant horizon, the Beast's body dripping with sweat as its spent cock slowly receded back into the wrinkled folds of its heavy sheath.

Though Meekah had met his Bad End in the balls of the Beast, thanks to his sacrifice, the village would prosper for another year, and the Beast had been satiated, retreating with the fleeing shadows as dawn broke, content to slumber until the next sacrifice would be offered.