FSE

Furry search engine

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When the hunter finally returned, the torches were all but burned out. The villagers kindled them back to brightness, pressing forward with equal parts fear and eagerness. ogling the stallion. He looked rather different than when he'd set out that morning, rested and determined.

Now, he was dirt-streaked and exhausted. His long mane hung about his shoulders and over part of his face in wild disarray. Below, some great beast had nearly shredded his jerkin: the lower half was missing entirely, and the rest was reduced to ragged strips that vaguely indicated where the material had previously been. Through the gaps, slashed across the silky black muscles of his chest, four long and crimson welts could be seen where some fearsome hand had clawed its mark into his flesh. The quiver on his back was empty, and the longbow that went with it was nowhere to be seen. The bastard sword in his other hand, however, remained unsullied: the ruddy torchlight gave it a fiery glow, just as the dawn sun had done hours before. As the stunned villagers watched, the tall horse let the blade fall from a nerveless hand, and it thudded point-first into the earth next to him.

He'd had thick brown breeches on when he left on his hunt. Nothing of them remained now: his thick legs, fulsome, dark balls and generous, rumpled sheath were on view for all to see. As the enormous equine shifted about, his testicles swayed, their immense heft obvious from the ponderous motions. Sweat soaked the hair of his legs and tail; he must have been running for hours. But, most curious of all were his eyes. They appeared to shimmer, the blue pupils glowing with a fey almost-light that must - surely - be reflections from the flames about him. Odd, then, that it did not seem to dim or flicker when the torches did.

None of the villagers dared ask the question that all of them were thinking, and the stallion seemed content to catch his breath and recover. Eventually, the alderman spoke, his quavering voice breaking the silence like a pebble falling onto the ice.

"...it is dead, then?"

The stallion snorted hard, staring back at the alderman in total shock.

"Is it dead?" His voice rolled across them like a breaker. "No, it is not dead. And in truth, now I see to the heart of why you might have struggled with this creature for so fearsome long, goodman."

The human looked back in confusion. "Then...you failed?"

The horse could not help but notice the torches quivering as fingers tightened around them. Perhaps inadvertently. Perhaps not. No matter. He tossed his head back, sending his mane flying. "I did not fail, goodman," he said, haughtily. "As I promised - and as you asked - the creature that has plagued your village will trouble you no longer. You have your peace, and I have earned my fee." He shrugged the shoulder that the quiver was slung across. "I will receive it now, then, if you would."

He waited patiently as the humans talked amongst themselves. Dark glances were shot in his direction, and at the perfectly clean sword he'd returned with. The muttering gradually rose in volume, until the alderman was pushed forward. He looked very unhappy. "Sir Stallion," he began, his attempt to sound reasonable coming across as obsequiousness, "forgive me, but..." He shrugged unhappily, looking about at his companions and receiving curt nods of reply. "We cannot pay you." As the stallion's face turned to thunder, he hurried ahead. "You do not bring us proof!" he tried to explain, gesturing at the stallion with a helpless hand. "No head. No leg. Not even a scale from the hide of the ancient monster. You say the beast is gone...but yet not dead? How can we know this to be true? Should we wait until it appears like a shadow on some future night and devours another ox, then curse both your name - long since gone - and our lost gold?"

The stallion snorted again, his nostrils flared, hot breath forming clouds in the cooling night. "Truly, you are as ignorant a people as I have been told," he spat. His brow was furrowed, and his eyes glittered in the night. "Hadyou but the wit to learn the languages of beasts, you might both have resolved this disagreement and kept your precious, precious gold." He took a hold of the haft of his bastard sword and pulled it forth, lifting it and letting it fall upon his shoulder. "The dragon was hungry, as you surmised, but not for your livestock. Those he took merely to survive. The hunger that he wished sated was one far deeper, far...hotter." His voice grew huskier now, and even the torches seemed to grow redder as he spoke.

"He was not without his honour, or strength. No ordinary creature, he, with no ordinary appetite. He would have finished me, had I not had prior experience with his kind, and...attributes he was fain in need of." He lifted a hand and stroked it across the welts that now scarred his chest, looking down at them with a prideful expression. "He needed to be challenged, battled with, fought as an equal...and conquered." He raised his head high, fiery in the night. "He is conquered. And your proof?" A snort of disbelief. "Very well. It is here."

His sheath shifted, and his large horsehood emerged, snaking from its home in a lascivious crawl. Even soft, its girth was tremendous; this stallion did impressive justice to his species. The torchlight made the black skin shine like polished steel, and as more of it emerged, the cause of the glistening became apparent. The entire penis was soaked, drenched and dripping in a mixture of a white and creamy liquid...and a thicker, golden one that shimmered like liquid metal. The stallion's chest heaved and his lip rose in flehmen as more of his cock dropped, until it hung heavy between his legs like a second sword. With an arrogant motion, he moved his legs apart: first the one, and then the other, doing it slowly enough that his slickened cock swung back and forth. An invitation. A confirmation.

"Are you thus satisfied?" he asked. None dared respond, and he smirked. He placed his free hand under the monstrous member and lifted it as if proffering a gift. "Behold: the fluids of a golden dragon. I conquered him, and he was willing..." A note of smugness crept into his voice. "We reached an accord. He was not unsatisfied."

And when the bag of gold clinked into the stallion's hand, neither was he.