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The 7th day of the month of the Searing Star, in the year of his majesty Alderach II, 568

My name is Nestertia Neleda, of the feline clan Neledi. In the past decade, my sisters have all met their fates at the hands of his majesty's father, Alderach I, during his legendary witch hunts. My life was spared by the endless hound army on account of my extensive medical knowledge. My perceived value to the royal family has granted me refuge in the great citadel of the canid empire.

It has been several nights since the witch hunter king's untimely demise. With the nation still in mourning, His son, Alderach II has since ascended to the throne and has blessed me with the permission to pursue research uninhibited by his nations laws, so long as it is recorded in this diary and serves only to aid in the well-being of the king, his wife and his concubines. A laboratory is currently being constructed for me on the citadel's south tower, and I have been granted an assistant in Roswick von Hellabore: a young but bright male mouse who was born to a poor family on the outskirts of the empire.

Fear and ambition both occupy my mind. I aknowledge that I am held captive here by the orchestrators of my sisters' genocide, but it is also true that every witch yearns to expand her understanding of the forces of nature. Through my most extraordinary deal with a royal, I believe that I could become the greatest and most knowledgeable witch the empire has ever known.

The 30th day of the month of the Searing Star, in the year of his majesty king Alderach II, 568

Today has yielded a most extraordinary find. A few nights ago, I was summoned by the king, and in the privacy of his throne room, was asked to concoct a way for him and his queen to produce a male heir. He expressed the desire to quickly assert his lineage in order to avoid strife, so that his son's ascension to the throne could go as smoothly as his did.

Later that evening, I recalled a ritual my clan would perform in the spring, in which the women of our village would sow pansy seeds into the earth near our well. On the same night, all age-appropriate males would gather at that very spot, drink, dance and pleasure themselves and one another. Their fallen ejaculate was said to enrich the earth, and within a few weeks, a distinct purple flower was harvested from the location. These unique pansies, when ingested, were believed to sway the male's seed in favor of producing male heirs.

Curious, I asked Roswick to provide me with a sample, which he produced with some hesitation. I procured pansy seeds and sowed them into the earth just outside of the citadel walls. Using my fingers, I lightly dabbed Roswick's watery seed into the earth. I was elated when, in a few days' time, I had found the seeds had germinated. Upon reaching maturity however, the pansies came up white.

After a second test, I could safely conclude that Roswick's ejaculate yielded only white flowers, quite unlike the violet ones of my memory. This led me to two differing theories: either that my assistant's semen was not potent enough to produce vibrant colored flowers, or that the color of the flower was species-dependent. Either way, I knew that any potion made with Roswick's seed would likely not grant my king's wish; I need another test subject.

The 12th day of the month of the Sickle Moon, in the year of his majesty king Alderach II, 568

Fantastic results today. My search for a new sample led Roswick and I to a brothel in the more unoccupied northern portions of the capital. There, I spotted a group of legionaries flirting with some of the worker girls, all except for their captain, a tall stoic Rottweiler who leaned against the wall with his arms crossed behind his men, silently watching the debauchery play out. For the sake of his life, I have elected not to record his name. I motioned to Roswick that I had found my target, and approached the specimen.

"I didn't know that legionaries were allowed to appear in such a place, wearing the colors of the king." I said in a voice much higher and daintier than my normal one. I reached up and brushed my finger against his bronze chest plate. He grunted and looked down at me.

"I didn't know that felines were allowed in the capital at all, I wouldn't stress as much about our situation, miss." His voice was deep, like distant thunder. He had no clue who he was talking to. Though I couldn't blame him. If my relationship with the royal family became public knowledge, his majesty's reputation would be tarnished. I swallowed my pride and Continued.

"Do... You like exotic girls?" I asked while trailing my finger down his exposed stomach. Some of his men caught a glimpse of my advances and began to drunkenly cheer their captain on. I looked up into his dark brown eyes, and was shocked to find he wore a dumbfounded and almost concerned expression on his face.

"Are... You nervous?" I asked as I grabbed his huge, labor-scarred hands. "Come with me and I can help you unwind." I smiled up at him, but his expression had not changed. I was beginning to question my seduction skills until the captain looked over to his men, sighed, and reluctantly nodded at me. Delighted, I beckoned for Roswick to follow us to a private room.

The rooms of the establishment were small and dingy, supporting no amenities but a half-size bed tucked against the moss-covered wall. Roswick shut the door behind us and I began to strip down with a sway in my hips. I felt fortunate that I was still young enough to pull something like this off. The large male's expression hadn’t changed, he simply stood there and stared at Roswick.

"Don't mind my assistant." I spoke up as I disrobed. "He's here to make sure things don't get too rough." The dog must have sensed the frustration in my voice, because he quickly began to remove his armor. I watched intently as he unstrapped his chest piece, arm braces and leg braces. He clumsily fidgeted with the tasset piece around his waist before I stepped forward and unhooked the armor for him. He stared down at my exposed sable fur, and flinched as I moved to untie the stained white piece of cloth that concealed his genitals.

As his undergarments fluttered to the ground between his legs, I held back a gasp. I have little experience with male anatomy, let alone the anatomy of another species. One could thus imagine my excitement as I was presented a fully intact set of canine genitalia. I couldn't help but reach out and cup his weighty brown testicles in my hands, and pinch the tip of his sheath between my thumb and index finger. I could feel the boney member hidden inside as I massaged the slit it seemed it would arise from when he reached a state of arousal.

I smiled and looked up at him, but was met with indifference. I beckoned for him to bend to my level, to which he complied, and our maws met in a kiss. His tongue was far larger than mine and could have easily dominated the space our mouths made, but like his member, it too stayed retracted, leaving me to pathetically try and lap up the insides of his mouth with my comparatively puny organ. I pulled away from him.

"Is something the matter?" I asked in frustration.

The large male's ears flattened against his skull as he shamefully tried to piece together an explanation, before Roswick's delicate voice sang out from the doorframe.

"He prefers the company of males," he stated nonchalantly.

The Rottweiler recoiled. "A disgusting accusation!"

"Hardly," Roswick replied as he set down his bag of supplies, "The empire may have outlawed the behavior, but you feel that way nonetheless, don't you?"

Of course I don't!" the dog growled, "I am a proud captain of my men, and servant to his highness's will!"

As the mouse stepped forward, I retreated from the Rottweiler. "You are safe here, trust me," he said gently as he pulled his tunic over his head, revealing his chest and back, covered in fur as white as pure snow. "I'm that way too." He slowly reached forward and placed his hand on the larger male's chiseled stomach. "Lie down on that bed, I'll give you what you want."

The dog stared down at Roswick, nostrils flaring. I had half a mind to grab my assistant's wrist and start running, but he broke the tense silence with a growl of compliance and moved to lie himself down onto the bed. The mouse nodded at me before walking to join the other male, straddling himself atop the canine's thighs and leaning down to brush his cheek.

"You need this captain, I know it," he said quietly before planting a kiss on his nose. My assistant then proceeded to wriggle out of his own undergarments, positioning his rear end to the Rottweiler's snout while he buried his own nose in the dog's masculinity.

The dog sniffed the rodent's sizable testes before moaning as Roswick began to lick his sheath. Sure enough, the furred flesh parted to reveal the tip of his ruby member. Roswick lifted his pink tail, granting the captain full access to his backside, which he almost didn't hesitate to begin serving with his large tongue. Roswick groaned and continued to work his partner's member out of its sheath.

In a short while, the Rottweiler's manhood was fully exposed. The red rod leaking transparent fluids from its tapered tip down to its bulbous base. I remembered reading about how male canines could use this base to lock themselves into their mates during sex. Supposedly it ensured successful breeding.

"You like warm holes, don't you captain? Perhaps you'd enjoy mine... Ahhh..." Roswick sighed as the dog lapped up his tail hole.

"Don't get too hasty" I said, digging into my assistant's leather bag. "Remember why we're here." I handed the rodent a glass vial.

"S-sorry miss Nestertia," he whispered, "You're right." He gripped the vial and began to rub the dog's shaft with one hand. "D-do you want to show me how you'd dominate me?" He asked the Rottweiler. The dog separated himself from Roswick's hole, mumbling something.

"I beg your pardon?" Roswick picked up the speed of his masturbation.

"I... I want to fuck your ass..." The captain replied louder this time. "I Want to unload into you!" His breathing picked up, and his legs began to twitch involuntarily.

"Show me how you'd do it..." Roswick said.

"P-please... I'm going to..." As the captain groaned, Roswick positioned the vial above the larger male's cock. "Bury it in me," he commanded as he firmly gripped the base of the dog's knot.

The canine's eyes shot wide open and he howled in pleasure as he unleashed his seed. Ropes of creamy white essence erupted from his member, coating the inside of the vial as rope after rope of his fertility was collected. His whole body seemed to spasm with each shot as he came, rocking Roswick about violently. As the large male finished, my assistant had about fallen off the bed. The mouse composed himself and handed me the vial. Even though its contents were virtually spilling from the top, I was still satisfied with the sample. I nodded at Roswick, who went to gather his discarded clothes as we prepared to depart.

The captain lied in the bed in silence, covering his eyes with his forearm in shame as his penis retracted into its sheath. "Please... Don't tell anyone," he said, "I'll be ruined." I watched as a pool of his potent ejaculate dribbled from his pelvis down onto the bed and chuckled.

"You said it yourself, felines aren't typically granted citizenship here. I'm in no position to expose a fellow enemy of the empire."

When we were fully dressed once more, Roswick whispered something into the captain's ear, and we departed.

This sample was far thicker and more abundant than Roswick's. I could feel its weightiness as I spread it across the earth. In time, the seedlings I planted produced a stunning double bloomed red flower, reminding me greatly of a canine's erect maleness. I have thus concluded that the essence of different beast folk will produce different colors of flowers, perhaps with varying effects. Whether this bloom, when applied to a potion, will aid in my king's request has yet to be seen.

The 14th day of the month of the Sickle Moon, in the year of his majesty king Alderach II, 568

I must give Roswick credit for his suggestion that we look for specimens at the city's cattle market, but when we got there the pungent aroma of exposed bodies and fresh manure almost made me turn heel. The fair was held outside the city walls, so as to not offend the sensibilities and sense of smell of the good residents of the capital. Still, not a few of the people who walked between the stalls were city-dwellers who had come here to satisfy their curiosity rather than to conduct genuine business.

The market was divided between a male and a female section. The latter we ignored and headed for the part where bovines and equines of the virile sex were offered for sale. The males were displayed naked, both on account of the midsummer heat and also so that prospective buyers could tell at a glance of their gelded or intact state. I do not know how many enslaved beastfolk were gathered in this field, but let it suffice to say that we were spoiled for choice. Everywhere our eyes wandered they met with gleaming hides, toned buttocks, gaping sheaths and low-hanging testes, and I could tell that if my assistant hadn't been so mesmerized by the spectacle he would have fallen to his knees to thank the gods for this heavenly vision.

Alas for him we weren't there on a sightseeing tour. Our finances were quite insufficient for the purchase of a slave but after some research we found a merchant who sold the seed of breeding bulls and stallions at a reasonable price. We told the man - a raccoon whose ample paunch told of shrewd business acumen - that we owned a rural estate and wanted to improve the bloodline of our stables, and he accepted our gold without undue curiosity.

The merchant lined up five stallions for us to pick from. The males had their hands tied behind their backs, right above their buttocks, so that we could better inspect their bodies. I inwardly cursed the lean purse that prevented me from buying the whole lot, for each of them would have made a fascinating subject. One in particular was a fine and gracile male with a grey coat and a long flaxen mane that flowed down his beautiful neck. His genitalia, although more than generous by cat or canine standards, was comparatively modest and delicate, and as I caressed his taut velvety testes I could only speculate as to the fragrant flowers that would have blossomed from his sperm. In the end though, my choice went to a large bay horse with feathered fetlocks who stood almost a head taller than the rear of the herd. From his thick sheath protruded the fat head of a member of prodigious size, and his heavy sack held the promise of a bountiful harvest. Our decision made and the requested fee paid, the merchant instructed his two sons to assist us. The first young raccoon took the stallion by a rope tied around his thick neck and bid us follow him to a nearby shack. The other son walked away and vanished into the crowd, telling us he had to fetch something.

The rickety, dirt-floored building was stuffy and smelled of hay and horse sweat. Upon entering I saw that it was split into two rooms separated by an inner wall with a small window-like opening towards the top. In one if the corners was a pail of water and a sponge. The raccoon rolled up his sleeves, slid his hand into the horse's sheath, dug the meaty penis out from the fold of loose flesh and began to wash it with practiced ease. The huge brute pawed the ground nervously as his sensitive member was handled but he allowed the much smaller man to scrub his private parts without resistance. The hooves of his feet could have easily crushed his master's bones had he wanted to, but there was a gentle, almost feminine quality to his large brown eyes, and the raccoon rewarded his docile behavior with a friendly tap on the rump.

Even in its flaccid state, the stallion's manhood was frighteningly large. But what happened next confirmed the whispered tales I had heard about horses and their barbarous appetites. I heard the creaking of a door on the other side followed by the sound of hooves on the earthen ground. Almost instantly the placid stallion lifted his snout and took a big drag of air. His body shook from ear to tail and his floppy member bounced up and began to enlarge rapidly.

“Nothing like a mare to get them in the mood. We don't let them mix with the females or even masturbate, you see, so when they do smell a girl the results are always spectacular,” the raccoon winked and untied the slave's hands.

As if following a well-rehearsed script, the big male leaned forward, placed his hands on the wall and planted his hooves wide apart in the dirt. His now-erect penis almost touched the wooden planks, and I estimated that it was about as long as my own arm and just as thick. It ended with a big, flaring crown the size of a fist which throbbed with each drag of feminine scent that the overexcited stallion inhaled. Roswick devoured the glorious sight with greedy eyes, and had he not feared to disclose his sexual proclivities I am certain he would have begged the raccoon to let him handle the rest of the procedure.

Using a pot of grease, the merchant's son oiled up the slave's manhood, taking great care not to overstimulate the aroused flesh. The beast groaned in painful anticipation as his swollen shaft was rubbed up and down and a watery liquid began to dribble from his throbbing tip but fortunately no accidental release occurred. Just as the increasingly distraught horse began to paw the ground and rumble, the raccoon grabbed a long hollow sheath made of padded leather to which a collection bag had been fitted. Then, he seized the lubricated member and with a practiced hand guided it into the sheath.

It was as if all restraint was suddenly lifted from the brutish male. Now that he was allowed to breed he bucked his hips and in one powerful motion buried himself to the hilt into the instrument of his relief. I do not know how well the tool approximated the insides of a mare but the horse obviously didn't care. With a snort of pleasure he withdrew a third of his veiny penis and thrust it back into the makeshift wife again and again, his heavy testes jiggling between his legs as he picked up pace. Sweat beaded on his shiny hide and an acrid, bestial scent soon filled the enclosed space, making me dizzy.

For all his experience in collecting semen, the raccoon looked like he was struggling to keep hold of the collection sheath under the onslaught of the rutting horse. Fortunately Roswick came to his rescue and grabbed the base of the stallion's member to keep it aligned with the device. Perhaps it was the pressure of the rodent's fingers around his veiny manhood that sent the male over the edge, but a few seconds later he tensed, raised his head and let out a shrill whinny that reverberated through the entire shack.

The stallion kept his manhood buried in the warm hole for perhaps a dozen seconds, letting out animal snorts that faded into panting breaths as his balls were drained of their manly juices. His pleasure taken, he withdrew in one go, exposing a glistening, semi-flaccid member from whose flat crown a thick rope of goop dribbled lazily for an instant before falling to the ground.

“That's a good lad,” the raccoon congratulated him as he recovered the heavy collection bag at the end of the sheath. The slave grunted with obvious pleasure at the compliment, but an angry groan rang out on the other side of the wall as the unbred mare was led out of the building, her own desires neglected.

It took no less than six vials to store the copious amount of hot ejaculate that the horse’s body had produced, so I considered my money well-spent. Four of the vials I froze and stored for future use, one I emptied above a fresh pansy seedling, and the last I fed to an apple tree in a sudden bout of curiosity.

The 22nd day of the month of the Sickle Moon, in the year of his majesty king Alderach II, 568

How mysterious and fanciful can nature be! In a few short days the tiny pansy seedling grew wild and green with lush foliage but produced no flowers at all. It is as if the overly rich nourishment had smothered the plant's more delicate organs. Perhaps better results could have been obtained by diluting the horse's essence with the seed of a less rustic male.

My suspicions seem verified by the vigorous reaction of the apple-tree, whose boughs are now laden with red-golden fruit of prodigious size. I convinced a somewhat reluctant Roswick to eat one of the apples, and he declared it the sweetest and most filling he had ever tasted. Whether a steady diet of such fruit would improve his own sexual potency remains an open question.

The 24th day of the month of the Sickle Moon, in the year of his majesty king Alderach II, 568

I presented my early findings to his majesty. The king listened intently and without interrupting, but I could see from his frown that he was troubled, and for a time I worried that he was about to rescind the freedom he had granted me.

“Your discoveries fill me with hope,” he began, “For ever since I ascended to the throne I have realised how many enemies lurk within and without the kingdom. It will not be enough that my heir be of the male sex. He shall also have to be strong of arm and sharp of mind.”

Before I could add a word he leaned forward and rested his chin on his closed fist.

“Yet my heart is not at peace. Man's laws I can do and undo at my leisure, but even a king cannot ignore the will of the gods. I fear that by swallowing a brew whose potency springs from another man’s seed I shall commit a terrible sin and invite their wrath upon me and my subjects.”

I shuddered at the remembrance of how the late king's priests had suppressed what they deemed to be the unnatural and beastly practices of the catfolk. Fortunately his son, though devout, did not share in his fanaticism.

“I shall discuss the matter with my confessor. Mayhap he will grant me a dispensation, for such an act would be done for the good of the kingdom, and not out of debased lust. He is bound to secrecy, so you need not fear any repercussions. In the meantime, I give you license to proceed with your experiments.”

The 18th day of the month of the Bowing Flower, in the year of his majesty king Alderach II, 568

Through more of Roswick's donations, I've confirmed that a male’s seed can affect the growth of other species of plants as well. Most herbs, for example, begin flowering regardless of whether they have established foliage first. Plants in the mint family however, are content without flowering at all, and instead anchor into the earth with roots so strong that the combined strength of both my assistant and I is barely enough to pull it out. As such, I hypothesize that semen-enhanced mint carries the traits his majesty needs to produce a healthy heir.

Of course, I cannot confirm anything without application, and tests need to be conducted. Luckily, pregnancy cycles in canids are far shorter compared to most beastfolk, with an expected delivery time from insemination in roughly four months. I intend on reporting to my king tomorrow, and hopefully, receiving his blessing to move forward. Time is of the essence.