FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The streets were eerily quiet that evening, and the long slow twilight invaded the cobbled streets of the 6th Arrondissement almost apologetically as night time approached. The usual crowds of tourists and students who normally infested the streets of the 6th were strangely not there, and for once the place seemed at peace.

It was May Day, one of the few days when Paris felt dead. The little clusters of people selling Lilly of the Valley on street corners had left that morning, and all good Parisians were home, while the tourists unaware of French custom had by now given up on finding anything much open and all headed to the Eiffel Tower which was one of the few things still operating normally on this most sacred of French holidays. Their reward was to stand in queues far longer than even the normal hellish fare and be accosted by teams of very skilled pickpockets.

In a small side street not far from the Jardin de Luxembourg a quite normal apartment building sat unobtrusively on this May Day. It's solid greed door was closed to the street, deterring visitors, and all that a casual visitor could see was a numeric keypad with a glass pad beside it and a small button on an intercom to speak to the concierge.

If anyone had been watching they would have seen that the apartment block appeared to be very busy this May Day. A steady stream of figures had been coming to the big green door and entering their numeric codes. Strangely, none seemed to have left. Each had a different combination in fact, and though it was not obvious to a casual observer, the number was matched to a thumbprint which explained the plain plate of glass next to the keypad, which was now somewhat smeared with prints. The concierge, a rather bulky and sombre looking man in a grey coat, would come out periodically to wipe it down.

As evening began to steal across the cobbles, a figure came to the door who could not enter a number. He was tall, over 6 feet 5 or to the French, 195 centimetres tall, relatively lean, with a shock of curly black hair and piercing green eyes. He was wearing a long coat in Parisian fashion, and a grey and green scarf, with elegant dark trousers and shiny black shoes. He looked very much at home, and would not have garnered a second look sitting at the tables of an elegant bistro on the Boulevard St Germain, which was in fact where he had been the day before, nervously smoking as he contemplated the day to come.

He buzzed the intercom, and waited for the gruff response he had been told to expect.

“Oui?"

“Monsieur…ahhh…Benedictus."

The intercom went dead, and he waited, sweating nervously in spite of the relatively cold temperature. On this May Day, the weather had not been kind, and it was struggling to hold on to fifteen degrees and the creeping darkness in the street made the figure huddle under his coat.

The green door suddenly opened, and he faced the concierge, whose deep eyes were almost black it seemed, and who eyed him up without expression and certainly without welcome.

“Madame Dumont….est-elle ici?"

The concierge beckoned him inside with a slight inclination of the head. The heavy green door closed behind him, and he walked through the small archway into a cobbled courtyard surrounded by a three story building.

“On-y va."

The concierge did not look back, and the figure shrugged his shoulders and followed. They passed several doors leading to stairways servicing different parts of the building, but they ignored those. Instead, the concierge lead him to a door that went in a very different direction.

Their shoes echoed on concrete as the concierge led him down, down several flights of stairs. They had gone into a deep cellar, already noticeably cooler even than the evening air of the courtyard. He took out a key, and opened a rough wooden door with it, leading the tall figure into a whitewashed stone room containing boxes of wine and preserved fruit.

“C'est ici?"

The young man was nervous now, and his companion was in no mood to relieve his suffering. The concierge just grunted and left, shutting the door with unnecessary firmness.

His attention was suddenly taken by a noise. Turning, he saw a section of wall, which before looked utterly nondescript and solid. It had swung out into the small storeroom, and from the opening he felt a burst of warmth, and the enticing smells of food, the sight of lights flickering in darkness, and sounds that echoed in the night, sounds of laughter, of conversation, and sounds of other things as well.

The figure standing in the doorway was familiar, and he relaxed visibly. She smiled at him, and crooked a finger in invitation.

“Mon Cherie! Beautiful Andrew, my love. Welcome to your first night…I have been looking forward to showing you off! Come in, and be careful of the step my sweet."

She was naked, he had noticed immediately. His eyes dilated in the darkness, and also in response to her beauty. She was tall, not quite as tall as him, but tall for a woman. She looked about thirty, give or take, with long black hair, a pair of deliciously firm breasts with prominent nipples, wide hips that seemed to rock as she walked, and long legs that always enthralled him.

It was her legs that he had noticed first, when he had met her at a party at the Hotel de Marignac. A friend from the Sorbonne had invited him, and he had gone dressed up as much as he could in evening suit, feeling self conscious as only a twenty year old male can in such surroundings.

Trying to hide in a corner and pluck up the courage to speak to one of the beautiful women who seemed so charming and so utterly remote, he had been astonished to find that someone had come up to him, and even more that she had spoken to him in English.

“So Andrew I believe…how are you enjoying yourself this evening?"

He had manage to stutter out some vague words, his discomfort made complete by her knowing smile. She watched him looking her over, and he saw her doing it, and blushed crimson.

“You are so beautiful when you blush my English boy…so very different to Frenchmen, that is sure."

They had fucked for the first time that night. She had taken him back to her apartment, an amazingly elegant abode on the Ile Saint Louis, and used him like a toy. Stripped of his best clothes, she had admired his naked form and nodded in satisfaction. He knew he was beautiful, he had been told enough times, but it still felt good every time it was confirmed by a reaction like hers. She had feasted her eyes, then her hands, then her tongue and lips on every part of his anatomy, from his lips to his neck to his chest plump with muscle to his belly to his immense cock. He was close to cumming almost from the moment she deep throated him, something no girl had managed before, and when she straddled his hips and rode him he lost his load inside her as she raked his chest with sharp fingernails and twisted his nipples in punishment for his callow enthusiasm.

He had made it up to her several times that night, and many times after, before she had finally brought him into her confidence. In the interim, he knew she had been checking him out, subtly, in the deep background. Several little tell tales he had left had been tripped, showing the progress of her minions through his life.

So when the moment came, he knew what was coming, and had welcomed it, but not too readily. That would have been suspicious.

“Now my love, it is time to introduce you to the rest of your fellows…"

They came along a passageway, made of fitted stone. He knew this had been part of the great underground works begun in the time of Louis XIV to stabilise the foundations of Paris. Centuries of excavation and quarrying had removed stone from the earth to build, and left behind great caverns and holes which had begun to eat entire streets. The kings engineer had devised a scheme to build properly engineered tunnels underground, with sufficient strength to support the buildings above.

Most of the works had become part of the catacombs, and been used to house the dead of Paris, who had begun to overwhelm the cemeteries of the city. This part, however, had been cut off, and in the distant past had been claimed by the group as their headquarters. A discrete and beautiful location, it was also secure and very very private which was important for them. For him…

They came into a small ante chamber, where an attendant waited with an expectant gaze of pleasure.

“You need to strip off my love…we are all naked from here, and of course, it will help when the time comes."

He blushed again, as he handed his clothes one by one to the attendant. Eyes went misty with memory, and admiration, as he exposed his skin. He was still beautiful, still desirable. At twenty he was in his prime, and his body showed it, from his prominent defined muscles to his even more prominent genitals. His cock and scrotum hung down low, pendulous now in the warmth of the cavern, and he felt the gaze of his companions draw them to fresh growth even as he waited.

“Ahhh I had almost forgotten how beautiful you were here my sweet…"

The woman reached for him, and he did not pull away, just looking into her blue eyes like a rabbit in a trap begging the hunter. She was not in the mood for mercy. Her long fingers curled under his scrotum, tickling the underside as he gasped, and she watched his cock thicken and lengthen with a sigh of satisfaction.

“They will all be jealous of me. As intended."

It came with a laugh, but he knew there was a hint of truth in her words and in her eyes. She was competitive, that much he knew very well, and he was a catch worth crowing about.

They came out into a large cavern now, lit with lamps, bustling with people. As they entered, the conversation stilled, and all eyes turned to them. He knew they were staring at his body, and even more, at his erection. It had reached its fullest part when she slid back his foreskin, exposing his swelling head, and then stroked it back and forth as she kissed his left nipple. It never failed to drive him to distraction, being handled like that, and she knew it. His cock bounced in the air, the head slapping his firm abdominals, the shaft pulsing with life.

And still they stared, their expressions guarded. Only hers was full of life, and it mostly showed triumph.

He knew there were two hundred in the room. He was the two hundredth. That was why he was here.

Suddenly she spoke, as if reading his mind.

“Fellow herdmates, we have our newest member here to join us tonight. His first offering; and our first time to meet him. Make him welcome to our herd!"

The eyes were less guarded now. He heard calls of welcome in many languages, and the eyes were mixed. Curious, hungry, jealous, bored. They had dropped their guard at least, and it appeared he was to be acknowledged as one of them. He shook a little, knowing that it was the truth. The feeling inside him had been growing, ever since the night she had told him of her nature, and offered him this future. He had taken it willingly, and in the months since, the feeling had been growing. He had been waiting for this night, when he could finally join them, but it was also a terrifying thought, not least because of what he had been told to expect first.

She led him into the throng, and he could sense it now. The raw power, the raw sensuality too. He was offered a drink, and he gulped it down without really thinking, taking a second from a laughing girl with red hair and freckles who looked him over like he was a fresh meal. She gave his cock a fond stroke before she left, and his gasp brought another flood of giggles.

His companion introduced him around the group. He caught the names, some familiar, some not. One stood out, the Countess Poliakowa. She was tall, almost as tall as he was, blonde, well muscled like a warrior woman out of the old norse sagas, and she eyed him up with pure hunger in her eyes.

“Well Marie…tell me I can have him first at least. You have made use of him enough already…"

He caught the hint of something between the two women, a not so friendly rivalry of near equals. He swallowed hard at the idea of being caught between these flames, and sought out a third drink from his redheaded friend.

“Ivana, you know I can deny you nothing my love…he shall be yours…"

He managed to find his way to a relatively quiet corner, but it was difficult. The room had several arched openings, leading to side rooms and chambers lined with beds and couches. Some were already making use of them he saw, and there were sounds of wild kissing, sighs and moans from the darkness. His cock throbbed deep, and he felt the first trickle of a bud of precum at the tip.

“You cannot partake yet I'm afraid my friend."

The voice was deep, but not unfriendly. He turned to see a man that made him gasp afresh.

The figure before him was shorter than he, but massive, wearing the body of a bodybuilder with ease. Muscles hung off him easily, and his cock swung easily between a pair of mighty thighs. It twitched as he watched, the tip swelling to a darkened purple and he licked his lips at the thought of it between them.

When he looked at the man's face again, he could see it broken into a wide grin. His blush became crimson.

“All is well my friend. I am Wouter, and I assume our great leader would introduce us eventually. Probably not though; she likes to keep the pretty ones for herself, and she is not happy at what I may do to them. Whereas I am always a gentleman, as she knows. I take none who do not want what I have to offer…and I sense you would like what I have to offer little colt. Am I right?"

A hand reached out of the darkness, and caressed his flanks, then slid onto the crest of his left buttock. The youngster moaned, feeling the touch bring him to fresh tingles of anticipation. Then fingers slid into the cleft of his ass and explored.

“Ahhh so pretty…and so responsive. I will be looking for you colt…"

“Wouter! You are terrible mon cheri…"

The tone was bantering, but he could hear the steel behind it. The huge man managed to look penitent, but his cock gave the game away. It had swung up while he was fondling the youngster, the thick shaft pointing straight out like an accusing arm.

“Great Mare, I would never dream…"

“Humpf…"

The man sensed it was their thing, mainly due to the impish grin the big male gave his lover. Another relationship to learn…while he could.

“Andrew, my love, it is almost time. I need to introduce you to the gathering, and then…well, you will see…"

“Yes Maria…I am ready."

He didn't feel it, but he had to say it. Wouter gave him a reassuring stroke on the shoulder, the gesture somehow making him feel better. He gripped the big hand and gave his new friend a smile, one returned with pure heat by the male.

“Come Andrew…"

He was led to the middle of the gathering. Up close, he now saw something he had not noticed before in the semi dark, and it made him quiver seeing it finally. The reality hit him.

In the centre of the room, two tall wooden posts had been set. They were about four feet apart, and he could see shining at the tops and bottoms the metal of shackles. The purpose of the beams was obvious, even to his inexperienced senses.

A gong rang out three times, and the whole gathering went silent. His lover appeared beside him, her face radiant, and she tousled his curly black hair before turning to address the silent crowd.

“Friends, we gather twice a year as a community to renew our vows and to celebrate. We also come to feed, and to renew our strength. Today is the Gathering of Spring, and it is fitting on this day that we also welcome a new member of our herd. I present to you Andrew, second son of the Duke of Dalhousie, and the most beautiful man I have had the honour to bring into our community. Welcome Andrew…I name you, Nightmane."

The crowd was silent no more.

“Welcome Nightmane!"

They toasted him with their drinks, and with their eyes. All watched him now.

“Friends, it is time for the rites. I ask you now to assume your true forms…become the herd!"

He could not help the gasp, nor the look of terror. He had seen it before, but only himself, or Maria. The first time was when she turned him, riding his cock like she preferred, and he stared into her eyes as she went through the change and suddenly there was a mare above him, half horse, half human, her grey coat and black mane and tail there above him, her body suddenly heavier and more powerful, her eyes strangely still the same deep pools of blue.

Her teeth though…he had seen her face change into a muzzle, pure equine, and then the prominent incisors lengthening as she fucked him, her grunts and cries turning to whinnies of lust until she had writhed in orgasm and opened her eyes and he saw them blaze as if on fire.

The bite on his neck hurt like nothing he had ever felt. He screamed as she bit, and the pain grew until it consumed him. When he came to, it had dropped to a dull ache, and she was still riding his cock. He was also no longer himself; he was like her, but instead, a black coated Friesian with curly black mane and tail and green eyes.

She had made him see himself in the mirror, exploring his new body with her hands on his, guiding his touch over his chest, his mane, his new genitals. His sheath was a joyous discovery, as was his huge new scrotum and the massive cock that spread from his wide open sheathlips.

She had mounted him again then, and he watched them fuck in the mirrors beside the bed, wondering at this new him, this new self.

Several times after they had fucked and she had helped him control the process of change, back and forward, in front of the mirror. He was better, but nowhere near proficient. He still had much to learn, but she had told him she would be his tutor.

Now he watched an entire room of naked humans go through the change, and he found it still had the capacity to shock.

They became half human half horses in front of his eyes. Equines, he had been told to refer to them as, though werehorses was sometimes used by the uneducated. Werehorses seemed to fit though, especially when he thought of the long incisors on the mare or the feel of her bite.

Generally taller than their human form, and bulkier, they nonetheless seemed to come from all kinds of breeds and coat colours. He saw chestnuts, black Arabians, pure white, paints, heavy horses and lean thoroughbreds. His lover was a grey coated thoroughbred, he knew, covering her body with his touch as they mated in her apartment. He also knew that he was a Friesian, and she found him even more beautiful in his equine form, though it seemed to give her some form of sadness to see him too.

He caught sight of Wouter, and his eyes went wide. The big male was an even bigger stallion, a Belgian Drafter, and his thick cock was high and proud as the stallion watched him with twinkling eyes.

The gong rang again.

“Andrew…it is time for you to turn too…"

He could sense their amusement. He had tried but it didn't quite work. She pulled him into her arms, resting her breasts on his chest, and whispered in his ears as she had when they were alone."

“Gallop on the plains my love…gallop…"

He used the techniques he had been taught. Under the stars, with the moon high in the sky, full and silver, and the whinny of horses around. He ran, naked under the moon, feeling it's caress…

A whinny broke out, and he realised it was from his own muzzle. He had felt the tingle through him, then the almost painful sensation he was used to now, and the sudden fatigue that left quickly. Looking down, he saw his arm covered in black fur, his hands tipped with fingerhooves, and feathering on his wrist.

“So beautiful my love…"

Looking at the mare, she seemed to genuinely believe it too. Her eyes blazed with the truth.

His herdmates seemed to agree. He saw many admiring glances, many outright stares. The hottest came from the Countess, and from Wouter. Both drew his attention, for different reasons.

He knew he would have to endure something first though.

The gong sounded for the third time, and the buzz of conversation died.

“Friends, herdmates, welcome. It is time for the rites. As we know, our life depends on finding the energy to maintain our selves. We have been granted eternal life, but the price must be paid. We also need to prove we are worthy of our community, and show we will all bind ourselves to our herd."

He caught a tone of sorrow then, and it worried him almost as much as the thought of what was to come. He was shaking, and he didn't care that his fellows could see it. Most seemed to sense his fear, and were giving him looks of encouragement.

“We can find what we need in many places, but years ago, the herd decided to avoid feeding on mortals and to use our own kind for our needs. We are not like our cousins, whose barbarous ways threaten all our communities, wolf, bull, tiger, or stallion. We keep to ourselves, so we may be secure. So the rites were born; and each time we gather, some of our stallions make the offering to feed their herdmates. Tonight fifty will make the offering, and our newest herdmate will be the first."

He caught the tension then, and the heat. All eyes were on him, and the hunger was general. Wouter was openly stroking his cock, the tip dripping with precum, but he was not alone. Some of the mares touched themselves, and many of the stallions were at least dropped.

“Prepare him!"

He felt hands on his shoulders, and he did not resist. They led him to the posts, and with strong but firm hands tied him there, shackled in a cross with arms and legs spread. His tail swished nervously, and he felt a sympathetic stroke on his ass. He looked down to see a small mare looking back, with red mane and mischievous eyes. She kissed his chest.

He watched his lover approach with a mix of need and fear. She held his gaze with her eyes, but his eyes kept darting to look at the thing in her right hand. A dagger, shining in the lamp light, sharp and keen. The red maned mare returned with a shallow golden bowl.

His bonds were tight but not uncomfortable, but he tested them anyway. The mare reached out and stroked his mane, soothing the terrified young stallion.

“Shhh colt…it will be over soon. This is how the stallions show their obedience to the mares, their leaders. It is also how the stallions show their allegiance to the herd as a whole. You are doing a beautiful thing my love…beautiful like you."

“Please…make it quick…"

She leaned in to kiss him, and he melted into her kiss. Her tongue slid over his, teasing his muzzle just as he loved, and her lips rubbed his. She broke it to whisper in his ear.

“No my love…it must be slow, and certain…it is after all, your offering to the great mare, and should be savoured…"

He closed his eyes, trying not to whimper. He felt a hand on his scrotum and winced, but she only stroked him, the tickle of her fingers so arousing. His cock slapped his belly, and the crowd sighed in approval. This was a real show indeed.

Her fingers slid up his cock now, from the base right along the underside, over his flare, one fingertip teasing his urethra. He throbbed, and gasped for breath, and his cock spat a line of precum to drip into the golden bowl held in place by the red maned mare.

She kissed him again, and he moaned into her muzzle.

“Shhhh my colt…"

The pain was sudden and terrible. A sharp feeling, and then a burn, and then a screaming ache. She had brought the knife to his scrotum, right at the spot between his heavy orbs where the skin stretched, and cut into his flesh deep.

He opened his eyes wide now, staring out in pain and shock. Her eyes were full of mischief, and arousal, he could tell to his horror. Her shoulder muscles moved, and he felt her cutting through the skin of his scrotum even as she looked into his eyes and saw his pain.

There was a gasp from the crowd. He realised he had ejaculated, even as he was being gelded, the touch of the knife cutting into his stallionhood driving him to climax. His seed shot high, dropping as a splatter of droplets into the golden bowl, the mare catching his load easily while he watched on appalled. The murmurs turned to cries and moans, and he saw some of the stallions shoot their own loads in sympathy.

A hand stroked his mane, calming him, and another rubbed his rump. The mix of sensations was disorienting, pleasure and pain, and he screamed out a whinny as the dull ache in his groin built.

“A good omen my love. The herd will be pleased that you honour them with your seed."

He could not stop himself looking down then, even though he knew what he would see. Rough hands, insistent hands, pulling his left testicle through the cut, stripping away the flesh even as he screamed, and then exposing the cords.

“Almost over my love…almost over…"

His head lifted, unable to watch, and he closed his eyes again. The pain made that impossible. He opened them staring out into the darkness.

The Belgian was watching him, he could see, and even as the mare took his testicle with a final thrust of the knife, the other stallion came, eyes wide, cock pulsing as he shot out a huge load on the ground. His friend at least managed to look contrite, but he still fondled his nipples and his eyes devoured the now half gelded Friesian openly.

Hanging in his bonds, he looked down dully to see his own stallionhood, the testicle grey and still pulsing, sitting in the golden bowl with some of his blood and a pool of his spunk. The red maned mare brought it to his lover, who bowed and took it to a small altar by his side. He watched dazed as they cut his severed organ into four pieces, unable to avoid a wince as the knife cut into what was once his prized nut.

The mare's incisors had dropped now, as had those of the red maned mare. She summoned two stallions to join them, a big chestnut Arabian and a dappled grey heavy.

“The offering is accepted…to life, everlasting."

His cries were lost in chants from the crowd, and he watched in horror as the four equines devoured pieces of his flesh, then licked the bowl clean. The scent of blood, and cum, and equine flesh was strong, as was the musk of need.

Gentle hands now released him from his bonds, and he stood to one side on unsteady hooves as the ceremony continued.

He felt a presence by his side then, watching with a mixture of horror and fascination. The next victim it seemed was to be his friend Wouter. The big Belgian looked like he could break the bonds if he wanted, but he rested easily and smiled at the Friesian as if to show he was unconcerned.

“He is a stunning one too colt.."

The voice was familiar. The countess…and as he looked to the side, saw that her equine form was a palomino coated warmblood. Her hands roamed over him, not shy about touching wherever she wanted. As he gasped and writhed in her grip, he felt her cup his scrotum and caress his remaining testicle. The sensations threatened to overwhelm him, even more when she ran a finger over the scar from where the knife had cut him open.

“You see colt, one of the gifts of our form. We heal fantastically quickly; the scar will be almost gone by tomorrow. The process of regenerating your lost stallionhood has already begun; you will feel its effects through your groin and into the rest of you. Your cock will ache, your remaining testicle will throb as if possessed, and as the new one grows, your drive to fuck will grow with it. Even now you feel the heat from my touch don't you colt…"

He almost fell over then as she gripped his cock and rubbed him in time to her strokes on his scrotum. Her fingers danced over the place where his nut had been taken, and he felt the truth in her words; it burned with the feelings of flesh building, and the drive to fuck was almost unbearable.

“Such a beautiful one, and so young. A stallion's first offering is always something special, but for one so young…ahhh by the great mare, you are what I need stallion."

Lips found his neck, and she licked and bit as he let out deep moans, his cock as hard as he could ever remember. He reached down to feel his own ravaged scrotum, the line of scar tissue and the aching throbbing pit of emptiness where he had been part gelded, and he could feel it no longer empty. One touch was enough for him to let out a screaming whinny and eject a line of precum that drizzled to the floor.

“Soon lover…soon…"

Attention turned to the next helpless stallion. He held the Belgian's gaze all through his cutting, seeing the stud's pain in a slight crinkling of his eyes and a sudden tensing of his massive muscles. His cock did not spurt, but it did drool just as the mare pulled his naked testicle out for the final cut, and he did manage a nicker at least when she took his nut and dropped it into the golden bowl.

When they released the stallion, he was not quite prepared for the next shock. The mare gestured to him, and to the Countess beside him. It was his turn to feed.

Standing in front of the red maned mare, he looked at the huge testicle once hanging proudly from the big drafter's groin. It was divided into four at the altar, and he felt the hunger build suddenly, overwhelming his disquiet. He felt movement in his muzzle, and the tingle of air on his incisors, now dropped and needy.

“Eat stallion, and accept the offering from your herdmate."

He knew it was what he had to do, the ache inside drove him now, feeding the hunger that only an immortal can know. The hunger for life force, pure rich and potent, that built into a need that cut through all other considerations. He had felt it building and ignored it, wanting to feed. Now he could, and the beautiful stallion had provided for him.

The taste was exquisite, pure male essence and heat and flesh and life. He chewed it savouring the notes of maleness and licked his lips clean, all the time conscious of the stallion watching him, and seeing his erection never waver.

As the ceremony went on, he was drawn through one of the side openings in the chamber, to a small alcove with a low couch covered in red velvet. The big palomino drew him in and suddenly kissed him, and he felt his cock twitch as she gripped him and rubbed just under his flare.

“A stallion is at his most ardent right after he makes the sacrifice colt. Our leader has given me a great gift, which is unlike her. I will have to remember to be nice to her for a change…"

He liked her slight bantering humour, and her kiss. Then she knelt and suckled on his length and he ran fingers through her golden mane and pulled her to his pubes with his flare buried in her throat. He felt alive, he felt strong, and he felt an ache. He needed this.

Laying her back on the couch he knelt at her hooves and spread them wide with hands not caring if they bruised. He devoured her sex, lapping at her folds, the tip teasing her exposed clit into shattering orgasm. He kept on, ignoring her begging and her pleas, two fingers buried in her depths to stroke her g spot and lips on her clit suckling until she screamed and pulled at his mane when the sensations proved too much after a second orgasm reduced her to a wreck. Then he mounted her and fucked like a stallion should, hips jerking wildly, tail flying, the dull throb in his groin driving him to fuck and fuck and fuck until he screamed out a whinny and unloaded into her and lay still with sweat coating them both.

When he pulled out, still hard, his cock dripping fluid, he wiped his forelock drenched in sweat from his eyes and looked around. In the dark corners it was happening now, the herd mating wildly, each new sacrificial stallion taken to soothe his pains and his needs in the shadows. He had been told the nature of the rituals, but it was still something he would never forget seeing it, the studs as their nuts were harvested, the feasting on their flesh, and the wild fucking with whinnies and screams and moans from every quarter. The stallions not making the sacrifice this night would still provide partners, and those who had were feted like kings, whose every sexual need must be met.

“Well stallion…I know you need more than that…"

A voice was beside him again, and he knew it too. A hand cupped his ass, fingers in his cleft.

“Wouter…"

“Please stallion, amongst the herd I am Braban."

“Braban, I…I…"

“I know your need stallion. I felt it in you, the need for males. How many have you had?"

“Not many stallion, but I crave…"

“Shhhhhh colt…I know."

The big drafter was in front of him now, and he looked over his fellow stallion, admiring the huge muscles, and the thick ready cock over a scrotum now reduced to one bulging testicle. He reached out expecting to be rebuffed, but the Belgian smiled and lifted his hands to his head, giving the youngster free reign on his groin. He tickled the underside of the remaining ball, feeling it roll in its sac, and then slid a fingertip along his fellow stallion's gelding scar and touched the empty place in his sac. The Belgian hissed and grunted.

“Ohhh colt…more of that…"

They were locked in a wild embrace in moments, with many mares eyeing them up angrily, wanting their turn. All knew Braban's prefrences by now of course, he was one of four stallions in the group who were exclusively into males, but they all wanted a chance with the new stallion who looked so delicious, and having him taken by the gay stud was not something they were happy with.

It was not going to change though, clearly, and they left them to it, except for the Countess, who instead settled in to watch with her fingers inside her own pussy fondling herself to orgasm. She sighed, hoping these two might become a bit of a thing. She loved watching studs fuck almost as much as she loved being fucked by them.

The big drafter knew what he needed now, and he lay the young Friesian on a couch, his hooves over his shoulders, and had him first with his muzzle. He started with the tip of his cock, suckling his flare into pulsing near orgasmic agony, they lapping his way down the length of his shaft, over his sheath and lovingly sucking on his remaining ball and his empty scrotum, making the stallion writhe and beg. Then he gave his taint a long sloppy loving before finally using his tongue and fingers and lips to pleasure one perfect muscled stallion pucker and wormed his tongue deep into the hottest ass he had ever had.

When he pressed his own broad flare to the youngster's hole, he waited for a moment. The Friesian needed him, he knew, and he needed it too. He bent forward to kiss, and moved his hips, using all his power and control to take the resisting opening in easy stages that hurt but not too much, and calming the young stallion with a hand on his mane to reassure him. He stopped often, waiting until the youngster relaxed before driving in deeper, until he finally rested hilted inside that deep needy hole and his arms held a stallion to his chest.

“Time for your ride stallion…"

The cries and groans and whinnies he heard told Nightmane that many watched and approved. He could smell the scents, cum and mare and heat and sweat. The long slow fuck became a hard fast fuck and he screamed out a whinny and came spraying his load all over the Belgian's chest and gripping his lover's ass with fingers digging into flesh demanding an ending.

Lying spent for a moment, with the big drafter over him, he felt a muzzle on his ear and relaxed. It proved a little premature.

“Ahhh little one. Your ass took me so easy, I know you are not as inexperienced as you look. And when I was eating you out, I tasted wolf…"

His eyes shot wide and he looked into the Belgian's. They were not as accusing as he thought, but they were clouded.

“Stallion…I…"

“We need to talk little one, before you leave tonight. The mare knows, by the way. It is one reason she chose you, did you not know?"

“I…" he felt stripped to the bone, but somehow not as frightened as he should be. The big drafter held him like a child, rocking in his arms, and kissed his forelock.

“Colt, you are playing with forces more ancient even than your own noble house in England. Surely you did not think we could be deceived so easily?"

“My stallions together! How sweet…"

Looking up, he saw the mare again, her hands dripping blood with the dagger still there. She gave him a half smile, sardonic and cruel but also possessive.

“Yes Great Mare, our newest member is enjoying the privileges of the herd." The Belgian's voice was reassuring, and Andrew's ears picked up a little from their previous position flat on his head, but he still could not stop staring at the knife.

“You know Nightmane, there is a punishment for those who betray us…"

“Maria, I…"

“Silver, beautiful and shimmering, is our enemy. A silver knife, sharp like this one, making the cut in your scrotum…no regeneration for the victim then, gelded forever. It would be a shame to have to do that to one as pretty as you my love…"

“Please!"

“He will help us Great Mare. I know him."

She snorted, but seemed to nod.

“You always were a sucker for a hot tailhole Braban. I hope you are right. So little colt, is it my turn yet?"

Something in him made him clench his eyes and shake his head. Not yet…not yet.

“I want…I want Braban."

The mare's laughter was like a rain of sharp knives onto his ears.

“Ohhh little colt, our big stallion here only fucks, he doesn't raise his tail for…"

“He can have me!"

The mare's contempt faded into the air, and she watched, fascinated, as the big drafter pulled his cock from the Friesian, all the while staring at his leader.

“My…this is a night my little colt…our big stud lifting his tail…come all and watch, the mighty Braban wants to be a mare!"

Others gathered round, and he could hear them in the darkness, and see them as shadows, eyes wide with arousal, and hear the slick movement of hands over cocks or in wet pussies already filled with stallion cum.

He was determined to make it good, and pulled the Belgian into a hot devouring kiss that drew many sighs of delight and some applause. The mare's anger began to show at last in the stomp of a hoof and the way her ears flicked, but she said nothing.

The big draft took up position on hands and knees on the couch, tail high, and he knelt behind and worshipped his ass, lips pressed to his friend's skin, tongue buried deep, loving the whinnies and nickers of pleasure and delight as he found a fat prostate and licked. Fingers replaced his tongue and he used spit and precum to slick up the tight hole that felt reluctant but slowly relaxing under his touch, and he lapped at his scrotum and gripped the Belgian's heavy cock as he lined his own member up with the winking tailhole.

His friend had a good tolerance for pain, as he had shown tied up on the offering stage when his scrotum was opened and his flesh taken for the herd. Now he made no noise again as his hole was filled with a length of Friesian cock, the sudden penetration still painful, but the long gentle entry after as the flared tip slid over straining flesh strangely beautiful.

When he felt the youngster hilted in him, he spread his knees wider to take him deeper, and turned to look at the mare. She was a portrait of confusion, angry yet aroused, her cunt dripping with fluid that coursed down her thighs watching the two studs fuck. She was not alone, several mares had come to watch the big Belgian give up his tailhole, and most were touching themselves as they enjoyed.

The fuck was so slow at first, he felt like he might cum at any moment and wanted it to last. He stopped many times, his hand still rubbing the length of the drafter's cock, building the pleasure for his fellow stallion, until he found he could fuck harder and harder with the pleasure building but never cresting.

They were wild stallions by the end, the Friesian fucking powerfully, his hips slapping into the broad ass of his lover, his muscled bunching and relaxing as he put all his power and strength into fucking his stud, the flare of his cock tunnelling deep and spreading the Belgian's ass so wide.

When he felt his lover cum it was too much for him. The great cock in his hand jerked once, twice, just as his ass clenched down on his cock, and he felt the gush of cum all over his fingers just as the Belgian lay his head back and let out a deep whinny with his eyes wide in shock and his muzzle flared to suck in air. A well braided tail slapped his chest, and he came too, thrusting wildly in his climax as he filled the drafter's depths with spunk.

He paid for his defiance of course. When it was the mare's turn, she made him lie on a large couch with shackles at the posts. He was tied down, and momentarily he feared the knife again, as she intended. Indeed, she brought out one and ran it over his scrotum, the tip touching his gelding scar and making him scream as he realised it was made of silver. The burn of its touch made him beg.

“Now you know what it will feel like my love…pray you never make me do this."

She mounted his cock and rode him while touching her clit and fondling her nipples. Occasionally she would bend over him, letting a breast touch his lips and demanding he worship her nub. He obeyed, most willingly; he had always loved her breasts, and the touch of her nipples on his tongue made him squirm. She had her attendant keep him in check though, the red maned mare holding his scrotum and squeezing his one testicle whenever he came close to ejaculating. His pained cries seemed to make her cum more than once.

Before she let him go she used a needle made of silver to pierce his left nipple. The pain almost made him faint, and the hole would never close now, as she intended. She threaded a ring of gold through the hole, a sign of her love she told him, but he also knew it as a sign of her ownership. Only when she was done did she let him cum, using her hands to bring him off for an audience of appreciative onlookers.

As dawn reclaimed the city, lighting the many streets and alleyways and the few Parisians going about their business early and the greater number of tourists wondering why in any civilised city you couldn't get into a museum or buy a coffee early in the morning, a lone figure walked down the Boulevard Saint-Michel towards the Seine. He was a tall man, with dark curly hair, green eyes, and he looked tired and a little sore. He stopped to adjust his groin frequently, as if it gave him pain. The street cleaners gave him not a second thought, and the tourists heading for the Jardin de Luxembourg or the Pantheon not even that.

He huddled into his coat and shook though it was not that cold. Mostly he shook from remembered sensations, of orgasms, of touch, and most of all the touch of a knife. He also shook at what he had to do next. He was in a bind and no mistake.

For Andrew, second son of the Duke, was caught and he knew it. He knew it as he trudged over the bridge crossing the Seine, through the Ile de la Cite, and into the square outside the Hotel de Ville. He knew it as he passed into Le Marais, and walked steadily up the Rue de Temple to his own apartment near Rue Rambuteau.

When he scaled the stairwell and found his apartment door, he lay his head on it momentarily before putting the key in the lock and entering the small but comfortable domain in the mansard roof that he had known as his home since he came to Paris on exchange to study. His father had intended it to be the making of him, but he felt his father would not quite understand precisely how he had been made, or remade, by the experience.

And then of course there was the even bigger problem…

“Andrew…well, how did it go?"

His lover was draped over the leather couch, reading a book. He sighed as he watched him. The figure was shorter than he, but more powerfully built, mid twenties, with muscle to match. Though not as built as the Belgian, he was an impressive specimen, and as he was now, wearing only a pair of briefs, he made the younger male almost swoon. The thick outline of a cock against fabric drew his eyes, and he crossed to kneel before his lover and stroke the source of so much pleasure he never thought it could exist in his wildest dreams.

Of course, life was never simple that way.

“Ahhh little one…you missed me it seems."

He pulled down his lover's briefs, down to his knees then with determination below his knees and over his feet. The older male let him, watching with amused condescension, but also growing arousal.

He was already half hard by the time the youngster had removed his briefs. His fat cock swung upright, lying against his belly. It was thicker than Andrew's, but nowhere near as long. It also felt incredible inside him, as Andrew had come to know well, in this form or the other.

“Ahhh Andy. Did it go well?"

“They accepted me…" he let his voice remain neutral. If he could avoid too many outright statements, he thought, it would be ok. He could buy himself time to think, to decide. How could he think now though, with this magnificent male in front of him?

“Good. I knew a noble like you would appeal to them. They can't resist, stupid ponies. We will be ready then; next gathering, in Autumn, you will have the codes to gain entry on your own. And we will be ready…it is time my love, to take them all down."

“All?"

He looked up, eyes suddenly dark. The older male misunderstood his concern, and stroked his curly locks in gesture of reassurance.

“Not you of course my love. You will be the last of their order, and you can start a new one as herd leader under the dominion of the rightful lords. No more of the stupid horses and their sacrificial rites…the mortals will be your feed my love, as it should be. Nothing tastes as sweet as that, no matter what the equines may say. Well, except maybe this…"

The older male was hungry now. When Andrew went to suckle on his cock, he pushed him away, after different quarry. He stood and stripped the tall youngster, admiring his body as it was displayed for him one inch at a time. As the youngster stood shaking but otherwise not moving, he licked all over his body, tasting sweat, which was delicious, and musk, which made his cock ache, and horse, which he did his best to enjoy. He knew he would enjoy it more when he had one of their number trapped and helpless, a silver dagger in his hands, to cut them slowly into pieces and revel in their screams. For now though, this one horse would help him get used to the taste. And taste he did.

“Change for me Andy…now!"

The shaking young man became a shaking young equine, drawing approving looks from his lover. He looked at the human beside him, eyes dimmed, and waited for the return. It didn't take long.

His love suddenly shimmered, his body changing almost too quickly to see. Face lengthened to a muzzle, body broader and covered in grey fur, legs wider and powerfully muscled, long tail swishing against the wooden floor, ears perked. A wolf man now stood beside him, a big heavy muscled wolf, who he had first seen in Cambridge a year ago. The wolf was his friend, his lover, his classmate Rohan, and he had been horrified and yet completely turned on when he saw him for the first time like this in his rooms at college, and knew he was to be eaten as a mortal snack for a werewolf in need of life force.

Something had stayed the wolf then, and made him pause. Instead of the bite that severed a mortal neck and allowed him to drink the blood of the pretty male, he had bent him over the desk and plunged a rampant wolfcock into his depths, and when the end came, he slammed his knot deep inside the screaming human and tied him while he rested his incisors on his pretty neck and prepared to bite.

The exquisite feeling of the human under him made him stop, and he reached under to feel his victim's cock. He had loved that cock, so long and so perfectly formed, and he felt it now, erect, throbbing and dripping a spent load of cum. So instead of biting he licked the vulnerable neck and lay with his mate until he could free his knot, then had him muzzle to face on the bed.

He had told his new conquest of his intentions, and the beautiful sweet Andy seemed to agree readily. He had certainly done his part so far, and as suspected, the head of the werehorses had been unable to resist his charms when dangled in front of her.

He had even gotten used to having him in equine form. While initially displeased to have to endure his lover's change, now he found he liked it. He had found taking the tailhole of one of them, even one he liked, gave his fucking an extra charge.

He looked over his love now, the black coat and curly mane, the long silken tail, the muscles under the coat, and the heavy scrotum. He shook his head and padded over to the equine, cupping his one remaining testicle and sighing.

“So wrong, you horses. Far better to kill a mortal, and taste his blood. Not as powerful as the blood of a were, I grant, and of course nothing like the potential of one of these. But we are meant to be predators, the weres, not sacrifice our own like this. Your poor sac my love…how does it feel?"

“Sore Ro, and yet…I need to fuck so much…so much…"

Their kiss was as hot as his needy words, muzzle to muzzle, horse to wolf. The stronger wolf was in charge, always, and he soon had his lover on the floor, hooves held high, muzzle roaming all over him. He straddled the equine's chest, letting him see his cock close up.

“You know what to do horse…"

It felt so good, he thought. That big long muzzle felt so good around his cock, no human could do it justice. But an equine…he felt the lips round his fat shaft, then over his knot, and a rough tongue lapping at his tip, and he thrust his hips to muzzle fuck his lover without regard just enjoying the power and the wild rutting of his kind.

When he was about to shoot he decided to let the youngster have him. Youngster…it seemed appropriate, after all, the wolf was in fact over two hundred years old. Twenty seemed a long misty memory away.

Conquering his body felt so good, even better than taking his life force. The rush of adrenaline and musk grew to a torrent and he howled as he flooded the equine's muzzle with cum, thick and rich, the stallion drinking every last drop. Then he pulled out, still hard, and moved to kneel at his groin with his paws gripping a pair of stallion fetlocks painfully with claws digging into flesh.

“This is what all your kind deserve Andy…a wolf to teach them manners…"

The stallion's cry was cut short by a wolf muzzle as the big male sank into his hole and spread it painfully wide. There was no respite, no patience, just a rapid thrusting of hips as he sank to the knot into the stallion. So tight…and so hot…

“Yes little mare…my bitch."

The stallion tried to make a gesture of defiance, but it was lost in the next punishing thrust, and he screamed instead into the muzzle devouring his own as his lover sank his cock in one thrust to the hilt. Again and again he fucked, punishing, showing his ownership of the helpless equine, who found the rough fucking making him hard in spite of himself. He turned his head away in shame as the wolf rutted into him, but his cock spat precum on his dark coat and he began to writhe and moan as the wild fucking continued.

“Time for your favourite part Andy…"

“No…wait!"

The plunge of a fully swollen knot into his tailhole almost broke him. It also pushed him over the edge; his cock spat a thick line of cum, followed by several more, even as he screamed. The wolf laughed, ramming his buried knot deeper into the horse, fucking him painfully and thoroughly and drawing another orgasm from his bitch.

With the wolf now lying in his arms, the stallion fought back tears. He cupped the muscular cheeks of his lover's ass and held him to his body, thankful that the wolf wasn't trying to move. The knot felt massive inside him, and every movement felt like razor blades over his sensitive ass.

Sudden unexpected pleasure brought him round. The wolf was licking his nipple ring, and his nipple swelled under the touch.

“Hmmm…new?"

“Yeah…"

“I like it. Might have to get one for your other nipple. Mark my territory."

“Yeah Ro…"

“My bitch…always my bitch little mare…"

“Yes Ro…"

He lay back and let the wolf kiss him then, feeling the closest approximation to love he knew the were could make. But inside he knew the truth; that as his lover fucked him harder and harder, all he could think of were the deep pleasuring strokes of his stallion lover Braban, and his caring caress on his mane, and the way he presented his ass for a fucking in turn and the way the Belgian's cock felt when he came with the Friesian inside him.

After two more punishing fucks, the wolf had changed back to his human form and rested. He was planning a feeding tonight, Andy knew, and he knew he didn't want to know any more. Instead, with a deep sigh, he walked down the stairwell, and out the door of his apartment block to the street outside, and he crossed to the little café on the corner and asked to use the telephone.

The call was answered almost immediately, and the voice was of course familiar.

“Great Mare…what are your orders?"

This was not going to be easy, he thought, as he sipped a café crème and tried to fight the pain in his ass. The throb in his scrotum built though, and he felt it growing all the time. He was about to leave when another man took a seat beside him in the café, and acknowledged his smile with a wink.

“Well Andy…how are you today?"

“Horny Wouter…how about you?"

“Same. You get used to it."

“How long does it last?"

“Until you have grown back, about two weeks. Enjoy it while it lasts."

They went for a walk, and found themselves by the Seine. It was as good a place to talk as any; public and yet unable to be overheard.

“Wouter before we…well, I just wanted to know. Why me, and why now?"

The big bodybuilder gave him a shrug and a sigh, and contemplated the river. When he spoke it was in a halting voice.

“As to the second…we are always two hundred. We lost one…"

“Was he Maria's lover?"

“Yes. A Friesian, like you, I am sorry to say. He was betraying us to the wolves though; our Great Mare decided to declare war."

“And why me?"

“Your wolf lover was the instigator. Our leader swore an oath to take him down first…and most painfully."

He shuddered at the thought of the knife, and the touch of it against his scrotum.

“Are you well stallion?"

“Yes Braban…I just need, well…"

They found a room near the Hotel de Ville, and before he could think the youngster was naked again, and his throbbing ass clenched at the thought of taking another cock. His cock knew what it needed though, and the ache in his scrotum had built to a burning torrent of need. His friend knew it too, after all, he was in no better state, which was apparent as soon as he stripped off.

“Do you want to change Nightmane?"

He shook his head mournfully.

“No just this once I'd like…well…I want to feel wholly human, if that is possible."

The big male nodded in understanding. Wouter enjoyed fucking in this form almost as much as his stallion form anyway, and he knew the youngster was vulnerable. Perhaps this would help him on the journey.

He made it slow and steady, knowing a sore ass when he saw one, and lavishing it with kisses and licks and plenty of lube before he slid nice and easy into the depths of his partner. Those green eyes were arresting, and the beautiful curly hair made him almost nostalgic. He had a partner like this once many years ago, a soldier in the Belgian army in world war 1. He had lost him, and embarked on this life soon after, his identity changed and his old life discarded as a soldier known unto god in the great charnel house of the western front.

He still missed the boy, and the colt here made him remember almost painfully, but also sweetly. He even came like his old lover, with a hard clench of his ass, a sigh on his lips, and a look on his face that made the bigger male want to kiss him forever.

Lying together, still buried in the tall Englishman, he ran his fingers through the curls and realised his lover was crying.

The big Belgian let out a sigh.

“You still care about your wolf somehow, don't you colt."

“Yes Braban. I know it's stupid but…"

“Oh don't tell me. I know, and the mare will never understand, but I know. I just don't know how we can stop whats happening."

“I am supposed to betray everyone I care about in either direction, and all I want to do is fuck and be held."

That drew a laugh at last.

“Well, nobody ever said being immortal was easy."

Andrew lay in his lover's arms and reflected on that. No, it certainly hadn't been so far. Still…

“At least it makes some things easier…"

The Belgian watched his lover pull off his cock with a quizzical look, one that turned into a frown as the youngster tried to roll him onto his belly. With a sigh, he gave the tall Englishman a wink, and spread his legs. He also changed into his equine form, the heavy drafter almost breaking the bed as he tried to find a comfortable position. He watched his lover looking him over, the tall lean youth so beautiful, his cock standing upright almost twelve inches hard and leaking even after their lovemaking. He was definitely something this one, the mare had chosen well indeed.

“I'm definitely not taking that thing in human form colt. If you want to fuck me as human or equine its up to you…"

“Hmmm…now that's something worth trying…"

It was a first for the Belgian, taking a male in human form like this. One he found he quite liked, after all. The long thin cock felt good inside him, much easier for his inexperienced tailhole to take, and with the lithe body and skin feeling good on his coat, he was close to climax when the youngster suddenly sprayed his load inside him and rested on the huge equine apparently satisfied.

He left him to rest a while before lifting him bodily off. Ignoring the startled gasp, he turned the tables with ease, his powerful body able to move the human onto his belly with the equine on top. His cock pulsed with impending orgasm, and he rubbed it down the soft skin of Andrew's ass, loving the feeling of skin on his flare. Another wonderful discovery.

“So Nightmane, turn about is fair…"

“Wait! You are way too big and…ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

He held his flare over his lover's hole, teasing it with the thick bulk before spreading it wide and letting just the tip enter the human. He watched every muscle clench then relax, and kissed the nape of Andrew's neck and licked his ears.

“If our leader finds out and comes for my scrotum with the silver knife I am coming for you next."

“Nobody ever said being an immortal was easy." The youngster was a cheeky one, thought Wouter. He did like cheeky, but he also liked making them pay for it a little. He sank in to the medial, drawing a satisfying cry from his lover who decided discretion was the better part of valor and turned to his equine form. The Belgian gave a satisfied sigh and sank the rest of the way to the hilt, his body covering the Friesian

“See, everything is better as a horse."

The whinnies and cries that followed suggested the Belgian knew what he was saying.