Chapter_One:_Bran's_Change
******************************* Warning: Some mild NC and humiliation. Please Note: I do not condone child abuse or pedophilia in real life, nonconsensual stuff, whatever, this is just a fantasy! If you don't want to read about a young fox boy discovering his herm body in intimate detail, don't read! ******************************* Chapter One: Bran's Change The air was balmly and warm on the bluffs by the great fjord. Fruit and berry trees had just come into blossom, and swallows winged on the breeze. It was Maying Eve in the village of the Waterfox tribe. This was the holiday reserved for the spirit of spring and growth. In ancient times, it had been reserved for mating rituals and fertility rites, so the cubs conceived in spring would be born in the winter, when their mothers had time to recover from the birthing and nurse the infants without interruption. Recently, there were more exceptions to this, as life was not so hard as it had been in ancient days. The Maying Eve rites were now more a celebration of sex and life than a necessity of reproduction and survival. Most of the high-ranking paired adults had ventured into the woods, to mate in secluded, isolated spots for the course of the next several days. In old times, all the other members of the village would have stood guard on the perimeters of their territory, vigilant so their chiefs and chieftesses could breed in safety. Now more peaceful, recent decades, the lower-ranking pairs and the single adults enjoyed their own pleasure rites. Each Maying Eve they would gather at a ruin formation they called 'the standing stones.' When the moon is in full view, they howl to greet it, and begin an orgy. Their cries of joy and pleasure can be heard far afield, and do not cease until the edge of dawn. The older, ranked cubs run wild during this time - with no supervision from the mating adults, they dare to enter the adults' lodge, sample their elders' wine and pipeweed, and also practice their own tenuous explorations of mating. The only sexually aware foxes who did not celebrate Maying Eve were the guards, who had volunteered and been selected by lottery, and very old foxes - those who no longer wished to mate, and those who no longer could. One of these abstaining elders was a five-tailed Matron called Kiri. She had gathered the village's kitlings - the little cubs under age ten -around the spicenut tree for sorting, once again. Each Maying Eve, Kiri performed the task of sorting the kits into their different sex groups. She took a satisfaction in discovering each cub's destiny, each cub's future role in the tribe. Some of the cubs called Kiri 'grandmother,' looked up to her, and came to her for advice. Other cubs liked to tease Matron Kiri and insight her fiery temper. Almost all of the more timorous cubs were afraid of her. Though old, she retained a fierce, strong sort of beauty, and even though age had weakened her somewhat, she bore a tough and commanding presence. Kiri was a true alpha fox, and she had long ago earned a place of respect in the village. All of the village kits, regardless of age or sex, were clothed in white loincloths, each bearing a single yellow stripe, to signify their rank as cubs. Most chattered, played and fought with each other, some skittered around the edges, chasing each other. Bran was not one of those cubs. He cringed in place on the outskirts of Kiri's inner circle, hoping Matron Kiri would somehow overlook him there. For the past eight years, Bran had been sorted in the Eagle group - the boys who would become braves and fathers. The sorting process was disliked by all the Eagle boys Bran knew - Matron Kiri put her hand under their loincloths and pressed her finger up against their balls - ew! A few years ago, Bran had found out what his elder had been looking for when his older neighbor, Brey, had been sorted into the other boys' group, Salmon. 'She found a hole,' Brey had whispered to him, through a fist-sized knot in the fence separating their family lodges. Bran had glanced around furitively, checking to see that all were asleep, before whispering back, "Show me." Brey hesitated. In the faint, smoldering light cast by the dying embers of the fire, young Bran put his eye to the hole, and watched Brey shyly bend over and lift his breechcloth aside. His little sack dangled down between his legs, as did his flaccid sheath. Bran didn't notice anything different from his own equipment at all, until he saw a slight movement just above Brey's balls. Just the slight protrudence of two hairless ridges of flesh, and a tiny cleft between. The 'cleft' jumped, it sort of winked. Bran gasped. His own tiny penis jerked from its sheath, and poked him hard in the belly as he bent away from the hole. It bobbed and smacked against his leg as Bran turned and fled, leaving the crouched form of Brey without a word. The sight of Brey's hole had haunted Bran ever since - thinking about it made him feel strangely excited, but it also manifested a weird feeling of dread. Thinking about it also gave Bran erections. Before, Bran had thought of his sheath as his penis, his 'wee' - but now, he knew he had a dick. His sheath was just its covering. The cub learned to masturbate his penis through his sheath, stretching the loose skin back and forth, until the small prepuce could not contain his full erection. It felt good, though Bran didn't feel any urgings toward climax yet. For the next several month, Bran would check behind his balls several times a day for 'the hole.' He always ran his fingers over a smooth surface of soft, downy fur, the pucker of his anus the only orifice present, and he would breath a sigh of relief. Bran began to watch Brey, and he noticed a change in him in the next year. They hadn't spoken much since that night on Maying Eve. He sported new piercings in his ears, and wore a string of irridescent shells around his neck. Brey's attendance at brave training waned, and Bran began to see him at the weaverwoman's house, taking classes with girls. After a few months, Brey took up with a group of older Salmon cubs, and began to hang around the boys' lodge - even though they were all still too young to enter. Through incessant questioning of his elders, Bran learned that Brey would probably become a boywife. Bran's father reluctantly explained to his son that skilled, attractive Salmon boys brought a hefty dowry, as there were many young braves who needed helpmates and scouts, but were not yet rich enough to take on a female wife and support a family. Bran wrinkled his nose. 'So he has to act like a girl? So his family can sell him?' Bran's father shrugged. 'Brey could object if he did not wish to follow that path. There are some Salmon boys who grow up to reject that grouping, and become braves and take wives of their own.' This was not a satisfactory answer for Bran. 'But will they father cubs? They'll never have their own lodge, right?' His father shook his head and clapped Bran on the shoulder. 'You shouldn't worry so much. Most boys are Eagle. You're Eagle, you're not even a Salmon, so don't worry about it.' Bran had taken solace in his father's point - he wasn't a Salmon, he didn't have to worry about been sold off as some rich brave's sex-servant. Bran made up his mind to be an Eagle boy. He was going to be a brave and a lodge father, he would never get that hole! Through the next few years, Bran lived by that assumption. He seldom worried about the possibility of 'the hole' except during Maying Eve time, and last year it had been completely absent, as Matron Kiri declared him as Eagle, once again. This morning, when the tawny-furred cub had woken, he reached down the cream colored fur of his belly, past his half-engorged member, behind his soft, nectarine-sized sack, just to check one last time to be sure. He skated his fingers against the fur, he felt a looseness of the skin. Pulse quickening in panic, Bran pressed his fingers and felt his skin part. A strange sensation sparked inside him and made his dick jump. He yanked his hand away, too scared to probe any further. Bran ran to the washbasin and straddled it, hoping to catch a glimpse of the reflection of his underside. All he saw were dark, murky waters. Bran heard that kits who avoided the sorting were caught and whipped by Matron Kiri herself! Bran had never been afraid of her before, when he was unquestionably an Eagle. Last year, he had even mouthed off to her when she reached between his legs, and taunted her when she would not chase him beyond the circle. But now, he understood why so many kits feared her. It was rumored that sometimes Matron Kiri would get really mad at a cub, and announce their group in front of the whole circle! But even a quiet whisper in your ear from Matron Kiri could change your life forever. Matron Kiri kept a tally of all the village children on a great sealskin scroll. There was no escaping her judgment. Maybe it wasn't a hole, maybe his sack was just growing backwards, Bran reasoned to himself. Kiri wouldn't put him in Salmon! Bran remembered how gentle Kiri had been when she had first sorted him, how happy he had been to hear the word 'Eagle' whispered in his ear before he even knew what it meant. Bran thought about the word 'Salmon' sourly. Eagles eat salmon, he thought. Snapping back to the present, Bran watched as Matron Kiri called out a series of five names. One of her disciples on the edge of the circle echoed the list at the top of her lungs, as did a guard stationed at the very edge of the field surrounding the spicenut tree. Only a few moments later, a group of girls entered the circle. They were about Bran's age, a few younger, and they seemed nervous, a bit embarrassed, as they entered the circle whispering to themselves. They were bare-chested and flat, save for the tallest girl. She looked awkward among the other cubs, too mature to be here - most likely this was her tenth and final sorting. Bran's eyes focused on her small, knot-sized breasts and her tender nipples, swollen with the first signs of puberty. The girl came forward and stated her name. Kiri nodded to her and motioned for her to put her leg up on a polished stone. It was called the 'sorting stone,' and it was made out of some shiny black rock Kiri had found up in the mountains. On each side, a glyph was carved for each group - Eagle, Salmon, Orca, and Bear. The girl stepped gingerly onto the stone and raised her tail to one side. She leaned forward as the matron pressed on the center of her back. Kiri's hand disappeared under the girl's skirt, paused for a moment, and whispered into the girl's ear. The girl looked down into the stone, as if she could see an image there. Then, Matron Kiri pulled her shoulder back. The girl stepped down awkwardly, and walked back to the edge of the circle. Bran knew there were two groups of girls too - Orca and Bear. While Bran knew that Orca girls were common and Bear girls were few, he wasn't sure the exact anatomical difference between the two. Matron Kiri was a Bear, Bran recalled. He had seldom payed much attention at sortings, simply playing with the others until his name was called. But Bran noticed that the group drawn around the circle was solemn and quiet. He realized he was among the very young children, at their first or second sorting, the disciples of Kiri - mostly older Bear girls and a few older Salmon boys - and all the anxious Eagle and Orca cubs, whose bodies had changed, all awaiting Elder Kiri's pronouncement. As the girls were sorted, a group of Eagle boys - some of Bran's friends - raced to the outer edge of the circle and began to catcall. They lifted their loincloths and flashed their erect penises at Matron Kiri and the girls being sorted. Bran couldn't help but giggle. 'If you don't stop showin' pink you're gonna see red!' barked the elder, and chucked a fist-sized river stone at Kard, the group's leader. It clipped him on the thigh and he yelped, then the boys skittered off. Now the girls giggled. One shyly stepped forward. Bran watched quietly as they were sorted. Kiri had a gentle manner with them, but also a very efficient one. None of these girls were Bear, and this was just a ritual, a formality. When Kiri finished with the girls, she called another group, this time mixed girls and boys. One girl came from the anxious inner circle, and as she walked towards the spicenut tree she began to cry. Bran found that watching only increased his anxiety, and yet he couldn't find the will or the nerve to go play with the others. It seemed wrong, and they might have seen him here, waiting to be sorted. How could he explain? He couldn't look away. Kiri motioned to the crying girl first. 'Kena,' she mumbled her name, walking towards the sorting stone quickly. Matron Kiri held the girl by the shoulders to stop her, bent down to whisper to her. The girl sniffed. She guided her gently to the sorting stone, still whispering to her. Kena seemed to have calmed, though tears still ran down her cheeks, as she lifted her leg up to the block. Bran wondered what Kiri was saying to her. He watched Kiri go under the girl's skirt, saw her arm pause there, and then seem to reach around to the Kena's front. Kiri smiled, though the girl began sobbing again, now harder than ever. The elder removed her hand, patted the girl on the rear, and lifted her from the stone. Kiri took the girl into an embrace, whispered something else to her, and set her back down. Kena walked back into the circle, looking down. She tried to hide her face to save some dignity, but Bran saw her face was wrinkled and flushed red. Bran quickly looked away. Kena had been sorted into Bear. He felt the tears beginning to well in the corners of his eyes, and knew he would not be able to stop himself from crying when his turn came, also. To cry like that in front of the others, to show such weakness - Bran made up his mind he would not endure such humiliation. He suddenly found the energy and the will to sprint out of the circle, to the very edge of the field. Bran dashed out of the way of a group of cubs playing tag, leaped over a gang of girls lying on a dirt patch, playing a game with painted bone discs, and scrambled into the thicket at the edge of the field. The guard watching the perimeter shouted 'Hey!' as Bran darted past, but Bran's small size allowed him to navigate quickly through the briars and leave the bulky guardfox behind. Bran curled up into a ball under a willow tree, the draping branches of newly green leaves concealing him. The yells, yips, barks and singsong rhymes of the playing cubs were still quite loud here, and Bran could still hear the calling of names. He would know when his name was called. Bran reached in between his legs, hoping that fold of skin might have just been a dream so early in the morning. It was not - his fingers found the soft, hairless skin easily, and he felt it quiver reflexively at his touch. 'Oh!' he breathed, a thrill shooting through the nerves of the area. His pink penis tip extended, and he suddenly felt the need to piss. Bran sat up and knelt, leaning against the willow trunk. He coaxed a stream of hot urine from his half-erect member by tickling underneath the piss hole. Bran took comfort in this familiar body function - he aimed at a low-hanging leaf strand and doused it with a spray of piss, enjoying the simple satisfaction of the act. As the trickle ended, Bran heard Kiri call his name. He froze. The name was repeated once, twice, by the disciple and guard. Bran crouched and hugged his knees to his chest. He didn't care if Matron Kiri did beat him - he was staying an Eagle. Bran wondered if his father really would sell him. He wondered what he would do if he found out Bran had run away from the sorting. He would probably get a beating from him, as well. The cub tried to imagine his life as a boywife, or as a brave without children, without a lodge. He knew so few examples, it was difficult. Bran knew in theory, ones sex group didn't have an effect on rank, but it seemed it was much more difficult to gain rank for the Salmon group. They were trained and raised to be help-mates, not leaders. Then and there, Bran vowed to himself he would be no help-mate. He would never be any fox's slave. If they tried to make him, he would run away! 'That's it!' Bran murmured to himself. He would just run away. Bran smoothed down his breechcloth and wiped his face. He set his jaw in resolve, and slowly crawled out of the briar patch. He was going to face his sorting, but he would never be a boywife! The guard he passed looked over and caught his gaze. 'It's not so bad, you know,' he murmured as the cub walked by, and the words seemed to catch Bran off guard. Bran felt the guard's simple words knock the wind out of his sails. Was it that obvious what he now was? Did he look different somehow? The acknowledgment of it from another fox had made it seem more real to him. The cub had to bite his lower lip and look straight ahead to force back the tears he thought he'd mastered in the bushes. He walked into the circle, past the other cubs. A few of his Eagle friends rushed by and jeered at him, but Bran's focus was on Matron Kiri, and he hardly noticed. Bran took his place in line, behind three younger cubs. He stared straight ahead, trying to clear his mind, to go someplace else mentally. When his turn came, Kiri grinned at him knowingly. 'Well, you're late,' she grunted. 'Your father teach you to come when called, pup?' Bran didn't say anything, found he couldn't find any words to answer her. He kept his head down, his gaze averted from hers, and moved towards the sorting block without prompting. He just wanted to get it over with quickly. Bran felt rough hands on his shoulders, stopping him, and Kiri's muzzle at his ear. 'Sorting is not for finding out who, but what we are. Who we are never changes.' Bran felt her hand on his back, felt the eyes of all the other cubs in the circle on him. She was pushing him up to the block. He lifted his leg and put his foot upon the shiny black stone. The stone was cold on his footpads, and he felt a draft under his loincloth. Then Bran felt Kiri's hand on his thigh, then touching his sheath and balls. Though her hands were rough, she took a gentle touch as she squeezed, checking the placement and presence of testicles. Kiri's fingers skated back to press the spot behind his balls - discovering the skin yielding, Kiri probed with one digit. Bran sucked in his breath at the contact, but was not at all prepared for what happened next! He let out a loud yelp as he felt Matron Kiri push her entire finger into his dry hole with a quick, relentless thrust. His penis gave a powerful jerk, and he felt her touch a strange spot, a spot which sent sparks of pain and pleasure down to his balls. 'Ow,' he whimpered, but Kiri was already withdrawing her digit. 'Eagle is what you were, and Salmon is what you are now. But who you are is still Bran,' she whispered to him. 'Look down at your reflection in the stone.' Bran's heart fell as he heard Kiri's words, but he did as he was told. The shiny black rock served as a mirror, and looking into Bran could see his male equipment clearly, as well as the petite, flower-like hole just behind his sack. The image of Brey's winking orifice flashed in Bran's mind once again. Then Matron Kiri pushed Bran gently from the stone. He stepped down and walked back into the circle. As he reached the edge, he noticed one of Kiri's disciples walking towards him. He braced himself, looking from the bejeweled, brightly-dressed two-tailed boyfox, and the path back to the village. It was now or never if he hoped to get away before the village was full of intoxicated, horny cubs. He ran. **************************** This is my first story - feedback is appreciated. Check back for chapter 2 to see what happens to Bran when he grows up a little. ****************************