FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

Thyrse finished shoving the stake through the wheel spokes, pinning the cart in place for the night. It had never rolled away before, but it was good habit, and he certainly didn't want to tarnish their otherwise perfect record, especially not for their last shipment.

They had picked a river to spend the night, the slight downwards incline towards the bank affording somewhat more comfort than flat ground. It was a decent landmark, too, which mattered more now that they couldn't fly. Hence the cart.

Thyrse rummaged rummaged though the supplies lit by the dim, warm light of the cart's lantern. He found what he was looking for, dragging a slender canvas bag halfway out. Balancing on his hind legs, he pulled it free and turned to Anthela.

"Catch," he said, heaving the tent at her.

She caught it with ease. "Oh, come on. We don't need these. Not a cloud in the sky." She tossed the bag back to him.

Thyrse grunted as he caught the bag, careful not to lose his balance on the incline. "Suit yourself," he said, sliding it back onto the cart. "But it's not summer anymore."

"Sure, it technically ended yesterday. But the river hasn't even frozen yet!"

"Look, not all of us have that insulating surface-area-to-volume ratio you have."

"Hey!"

"Kidding," he said, deadpan. "But it's not untrue. Especially comparing the two of us." He slipped his tent back into the cart.

The dusk eventually became night, and more stars emerged from the sky. The pair laid down alongside the riverbank, resting on their backs to watch. It was perhaps a little chilly, but hardly unbearable.

"Do you think we'll miss them? The stars, I mean," Anthela asked.

"I hear you can still see the daytime ones," Thyrse said, staring up at the sky.

"You know what I meant,"

He shuffled uneasily. "Maybe you'll get to miss them."

"Oh, enough of that," she said, wriggling deeper into the soft grass below. "I know the odds aren't great--for you especially--but it's far from impossible. Don't go giving up hope. You know how much swing there is on the reproductive section."

Thyrse sighed. There was too much swing. He might have had the chance she mentioned, were the whole thing not already a genetic lottery.

"That's what I'm most afraid of," he said.

"So am I. No one takes it without being at least a little nervous. You're in good company."

"No... I mean, yes. About being nervous--that's right. But I had meant about getting in."

Anthela chuckled. "What, already make plans to leave? That's so like you."

"I'm serious," Thyrse said, his voice going soft. "I don't want to be a practitioner, Anthela."

She turned to face him. "But you want to live in Perphia. It cuts both ways."

"I know." Thyrse rolled away from her, wishing that they had set up the tents. It was much easier to pretend to be asleep when they couldn't see each other.

"Don't be like that, Thyrse," she said, nudging closer to him. "There's the half time options. You have the research background to get one. I mean, how many people who take the margin test already have a commissioned name?"

"I told you, Anthela, that paper was a fluke. I just got lucky. Anyone with half a brain knows that." He turned to look at her. "And I don't want to be a practitioner. Not even half of one."

Anthela growled. "You can't have it both ways. Ardeo comes with responsibilities, you know. It's not just some prerequisite to stay in Perphia--there's more to it."

Thyrse made a dry laugh. "That's what I'm saying--I'm the wrong person for it! Anthela, I know you've talked to our male classmates. I swear, some of them are downright obsessed about becoming practitioners. Like it's their only goal in life." He flicked his forepaw against the grass, ruffling the surface. "It takes a certain type of person to accept that job--and that's just not me."

"It's always been a compromise. You know that. The others understand that, too, even if they hide it."

"Maybe." He began to lick at a claw. "It's a moot point, anyways. I sent the request before we left."

Anthela fell silent for a moment. "Then it's done."

"Don't act so surprised. It's not like it changes anything--the outcome will be the same either way. So I figured I might as well try something different." He grinned. "I didn't do it the normal way. I only opted out of the reproductive part, not the entire thing."

"That's possible?"

"Why not? They put a zero in a box and move on. Easier for everyone involved."

"But... everything's already in place for leaving, Thyrse. You're doing the same thing, just with more steps." Her brow furrowed and became exasperation. "You're doing it out of spite."

"Of course not. Perphia is home, Anthela, but I'm not going to become a practitioner. It's unorthodox, sure, but it was the right thing to do. Frankly, I'm surprised it's not more common."

"Ugh!" she said, turning around and making a display of walking away. "I don't know why I bother, sometimes. Good night." She settled down to rest, further away from him than normal.

"Yeah."

Thyrse received instructions for the margin test, anyways. The paper didn't say it outright, but a morning appointment at the downtown Health and Reproductive Services building? Either his request hadn't gone through, or they were being extremely rude.

He would have asked Anthela about it and compared their notes, but the two had not spoken in the last few days. He couldn't blame her--she had already said goodbye, after they dropped off the cart and parted ways. It had been their last job, but apparently her farewell carried more finality than he had understood at the time.

He had also considered formally inquiring about the error once he received the notice, but round-trip letters would have taken too long. He could go to the downtown building and see about handling the issue in-person, but it was a fair distance away. And what if they told him that there had been an error, and that he had to leave now? Then he would surely regret going so early. Besides, they couldn't force him to take the test, even if it was on the day it was to be administered. He could be sent off, but there were no consequences for late notice like that. It was perfectly fine to wait.

But as was always the case with such procrastination, that day came far too quickly. Already his alarm had started ringing with a blatant disregard for how dark it was outside. The instructions had specified an early time, and it was a two-hour walk to the downtown Health and Reproductive Services building. Such was the price of privacy, though it had been less of burden when his wings could bear his weight. Now, the farmhouse's location had become an annoyance. At least this would be the last time he would have to make the journey.

Thyrse had packed his belongings the previous night--notebooks and trinkets for the most part, along with personal hygiene items and snacks. He slung the plastic pack over his head, nestling the pouch against his flank. The sum total of his possessions fit into that bag. Anything more would have been foolish; he could only carry so much, after all.

He trotted into the kitchen where he had left his breakfast for the morning. Sitting atop a napkin was a chunk of somewhat chalky bread that made up in taste what it lacked in texture: penicie. It had taken some time to learn to bake the pastry properly--not to mention many failed attempts--but he had finally gotten the hang of it a few moons ago. This one had ripened beautifully in the last few days, lines of blue and purple gradients circling along the grain of the bread. He had considered having it yesterday, but once the smell hit his nose, he knew it had been well worth the wait.

It was a splurge, perhaps, but this was a splurge-worthy day. He helped himself to half of the desert, wrapping the other half in the napkin and slipping it into his pack. The flavor was the one he had come to expect from a professional bakery, though even they sometimes had poor timing with regard to penicie. This batch was at its peak, stiff yet still moldable, and with a characteristic dryness that did not make one thirsty. It was gone in four bites.

He left the farmhouse empty, stepping outside to meet the cold, damp dawn. The unkempt fields were overgrown with frosted weeds, the edges of their dark leaves glittering in the twilight. Even the birds had barely woken, their chirps still gentle and far from the uproar they tended to produce throughout most of the day.

It was clear enough to see the Perphian skyline in the distance. One of them was the Health & Reproductive Services building, small enough for him to cover with the tip of a claw. Thyrse started down the familiar dirt path, away from the old farmhouse and towards whatever fate awaited him downtown.

The Health and Reproductive Services building was a massive triangular prism made of concrete. The edges bulged outwards, a facade for the songsteel skeleton responsible for supporting the towering structure. It was a marvel of engineering, an architectural masterpiece, a demonstration of precise control over the natural world. But it was wasted effort.

All that work, only to be used for this. It would have been funny, were it not such a travesty. This was not a place where ingenuity overcome nature's challenges. Technology held no primacy here. No, this was a place where all those who entered did so only to submit to nature's will.

Thyrse found himself in the building's shadow from a block away. The doors were propped open, the noise pouring out audible even from that distance. As he continued forward, the chatter grew louder, rising to a dull roar as he stepped inside.

There was an impenetrable mob of students to one side of the main atrium, blocking a wide hallway to the east wing of the building. They were clearly the source of all the noise. He recognized some as fellow classmates. There was no doubt about it: this was indeed the margin test.

The entire space was blanketed in a cold, contagious atmosphere. Thyrse could only imagine how the others felt--he wasn't even there to take the test, and already his breathing had quickened, though it seemed not everyone shared the same experience. Some, he noticed, were excited and bubbly--the broken ones, who maybe had a chance--but they were in the minority. Everyone else talked to hide beneath the noise. They paced back and forth not to burn energy in excitement, but from some anxious, primal urge. This was a duty, a chore, a prerequisite. No one desired to be there.

He considered, at that moment, turning around and leaving. It would be easy to walk a block down the road to the emigration center. It would be easy to leave Perphia for good. It would be easy because they made it so purposefully; the only people who stayed did so because they yearned to stay, not because it was easy to do so.

But to leave now would be to abandon the resources Perphia had to offer. It would be to abandon his achievements and start again from nothing. Besides, research outside of Perphia was, frankly, a joke, and entirely unheard of if one desired to work with ardeo. It was the only way to work towards fixing the damn place. Leaving now would be tantamount to quitting, and Thyrse knew it would be a decision he would obsess over for the rest of his life.

He stepped into the line. This was just another hoop to jump through: an annoying hoop that he would perhaps be lucky enough to demolish in the near future. It wouldn't be the first of such hoops, and probably not the last, either.

After half an hour of waiting quietly, he finally reached the front of the line. The one managing his part of the mob was this hulking mass of an azure dragon. He made the clipboard he held look like a toy. He was like the other practitioners handling the crowd, each posturing to look big and intimidating---even if their faces betrayed nothing of the sort.

Thyrse spoke first, raising his voice to cut through the din of the remaining students. The words came out faster than he intended.

"I sent in an opt-out request--for this part of the test only, not the whole thing---but I got this invite anyways," he rushed. "I'm definitely not taking the test, but I wanted to check--"

"Woah, settle down," the practitioner said. His voice was calm and precise, rising above the noisy room with ease. "Let's see if you're even on the list, first. Name?"

"Thyrse, 6542."

The attendant flipped through a few pages, scanning each one. Then he looked back up. "You're not listed."

"So... the cancellation went through?"

"Yep! Unless you've had a sudden change of heart, of course." He chuckled, and then gestured with his head to the invitation Thyrse held. "My guess? We didn't get the request until after invitations were sent out. Looks like it did get processed, though."

"But... are there any other notes? Is that it? I just... go?"

"You're not here, so... pretty safe assumption," he said, holding out the clipboard. But he then saw the look on Thyrse's face and sighed. "Look, if you want to be sure, check with the desk over there." He pointed to it with his tail. "But I've got nothing else for you."

Thyrse gave a curt nod and headed off in the direction he had indicated. The others behind him gave an odd glance. He hoped it was one of confusion and not judgment.

An orange dragoness sat behind the counter, the side of her head glued to a radio on the desk. It was probably the only way to hear anything above all the racket. She looked up at him as he approached and turned it off.

"Last-minute margin test changes?" she asked.

"Not quite; just checking. I wasn't on some list, apparently, but I still got this thing in the mail," he explained, presenting the invitation as he would a ticket.

"Still enough time to have it either way," she said, grabbing a clipboard from behind the counter. "Regardless of what what's in the records."

"I'd just like to check, please."

She cocked her head at him. "Name?"

"Thyrse, 6542."

She buried her face in the clipboard, tracing a claw along the document.

"You said Thyrse? Moon 6542?"

"Yes? Both are correct." He had heard of others who had names or hatch moons that were easily confused with each other, but had never had the issue himself.

"One moment." She spun around and vanished behind a curtain.

The crowd of students had grown quieter, he noticed. It had been hard to tell when he had been among them, but it was obvious from the outside. Most had already gone through; there were half as many left waiting, now. Thyrse could only imagine what was now going on down that hallway, though he had a fairly vivid idea. His teachers had provided thorough details through a variety of mediums.

The attendant returned a minute later. "Apparently you have an appointment in the C-wing, room C1801."

"Do you know what for?"

"Nope! Pretty weird, actually. You might have broken something. I'm sure you'll find out when you get there." She smiled. "Elevator's the easiest way. That's the one for the C-wing." She nodded to the nearby lift. "Eighteenth floor."

Thyrse thanked her and went to the elevator. This building had the new, button-operated kind, in contrast to the traditional lever design. They were safer, not to mention easier, but far less fun. There was no technique required to avoid overshooting and no control of speed. It simply worked with mechanical precision. Of course this would be one of the first buildings to have them retrofitted. The ride was boring.

The caged door folded open on the eighteenth floor to a hallway that was like any other in the building. It was wide, with soft lamps embedded in the ceiling every few paces. The floor was made from organic ceramic, at once sturdy and soft. Like the other hallways he had seen on the way up, it was entirely devoid of people.

Thyrse stepped out of the elevator, turning around to watch it close itself and begin moving up, of all directions. Normally they just returned to the ground floor by gravity, but apparently this one was trying to show off.

He huffed and began down the hall. It was the very first door to his right: C1801. He walked up to it, and after a brief hesitation gave it three quiet raps.

The door opened a moment later, revealing a large dragoness with polished graphite scales behind it. She took one glance at Thyrse and immediately froze, face contorting into a snarl.

Thyrse took a step back in response, dropping low to the ground and raising his claws to defend himself. But the moment never came. Instead they stood there in stalemate, staring at each other until she broke the silence.

"Apologies," she said after taking a moment to regain her composure. "It's been a while since I last saw someone with yellow eyes. Especially with so much orange... everywhere else." She gave him a once-over, as if evaluating him. "Usually it would be the other way around."

That was probably true, for this place. Everyone was on ardeo--that was the only reason the building existed. Thyrse's eyes were as yellow as any fugue's would be. But unlike them, he had no desire to eat anyone's liver.

"The front desk told me to come up here," he explained.

The silver dragoness cocked her head. "Thyrse, yes?"

"That's right."

"Hmm. Come in, come in." She ushered him inside and closed the door behind them. "My name is Umbel."

"Hello," Thyrse said, getting a better look at her now that things were peaceful. Her silver scales were well-polished, certainly better than most. While she was a couple heads larger than him, she was still smaller than Anthela, and so Thyrse considered her to be reasonably sized. She moved throughout the room with a confident gait.

He dragged his eyes away from her to scan the rest of the room. At one point it must have been a large office space, possibly intended for multiple people. It had since been turned into a cave. The sole source of natural light---a lonely window on the opposite wall--was covered by several stacks of furniture, as deep as his tail was long. Enough light leaked through to see, albeit barely.

The floor was clean and empty, save a sizable reflecting pool in the center. It gave the faintest hum and telltale trickle of circulating water. Given how dim the light was, though, it seemed that its usefulness as a mirror was rather limited.

Thyrse found his gaze drawn to one part of the floor that was brighter than the rest, a small lamp casting light onto papers strewn across the floor. An open inkwell sat beside them, traces of ink smeared onto tile and paper alike.

"I know it's bad posture, but I just can't stand desks," Umbel explained after noticing his interest. "They make it too hard to think. And there's never enough space."

"Really? I've never had the space issue." He realized his mistake too late, noting the large size of the font on the pages. "Sorry. I wasn't thinking."

She shook her head. "It's alright. You'll know the pain soon enough."

He would? Did that mean she was giving him ardeo? This didn't seem to be the margin test--at least no part he had heard of, and his instructors had certainly not skimped on the details. Perhaps she had meant something else.

"Actually, about that," he said. "I sent in a request to opt-out of the reproductive section of the margin test, and it must have gotten lost somewhere, since I got the invite anyways."

Umbel clicked her claws rhythmically onto the tiled floor, looking visibility confused. "You opted out of one part... sorry, I didn't hear anything about that. I didn't even know that was possible." She stopped drumming her claws. Thyrse thought he saw her eyes light up, despite the dimness of the room. "Out of curiosity, why did you do it that way?"

"I didn't want to take the margin test. But I wanted to stay in Perphia. That left one choice, since I wasn't about to become a practitioner."

Umbel glanced at him and chuckled. "Well, that last part is certainly true."

"So... what is this, then? An exit interview?" he asked.

Umbel failed to stifle a laugh. "Do I look like a piece of paper to you? I know your vision is sharper than mine, but even I can see that much."

Thyrse only gave an exasperated shrug. It sounded like something had gotten very confused on the paper-filing side of things.

"Oh. You actually don't know. I swear, the office can be so bad at communication." She straightened her posture and moved to face him directly. "This is your first appointment with Health and Reproductive Services, Thyrse. I'm your practitioner."

Practitioner? Now that had to be a mistake.

"Um... really?"

"What? Not what you were expecting?" she asked, showing off a wing and mock-inspecting it.

"You just... don't strike me as one."

He had met several practitioners firsthand, in class. Each one had projected this macho attitude towards their job, this perverted amalgamation of duty and passion. They made it clear who they were looking for, and that anyone else might as well save themselves the trouble and pack up now. They simply wouldn't do as cogs in the reproductive organ called Perphia.

But Umbel didn't seem to have that attitude. Perhaps it was because she was a female practitioner? He had only met male ones, previously. But their jobs were the same, really, just with opposite polarity. There had to be something else to it.

"You met recruiters," she explained. "They're the only exposure you had to us. If you thought they were authentic, then they did an excellent job."

An excellent job? Sure, some had gravitated towards the role whenever the practitioners had come to talk to the class. But for every such person, two others who otherwise would have taken to the job were made to feel inadequate. And the majority of the class--the sane ones--were so off-put that they tuned out entirely, realizing that there was nothing of value to be had there.

Thyrse grunted, shaking his head to rid himself of the image. "It's kind to call them recruiters. They scare off more people than they bring in."

"Not scare," she corrected. "Filter. I don't mean to be pedantic, but it's a passion of mine." She motioned towards the scattered papers with her tail. "You've heard of the turnover issues, surely. Seems like they're the only thing they talk about on the radio nowadays."

Thyrse nodded. It was hardly surprising, really; few jobs could seem so appealing on the surface and be so horrible in reality. They were fools to allow themselves to be tricked like that, but such mistakes had a way of righting themselves--as evidenced by the turnover.

"I've trained quite a few practitioners in my years here--enough to have seen it firsthand. This job breaks people, if they aren't ready for it. And I can tell who is and who isn't from their very first day of training. So I thought to myself, `How did they get here in the first place? How did they get this far?'" She looked back at Thyrse, clearly expecting an answer.

"Because you didn't scare them enough?" he said.

Umbel flicked a claw in annoyance. "You're jumping ahead. No, they got that far because of the margin test. The root of the problem is that it measures reproductive utility, not how well someone fits the role of practitioner. The measure has some use, of course, but it is nonetheless reductive. It leaves us no choice in the matter: we're forced to pick those with the highest scores. For the sake of fairness." She frowned at him. "Exceptions are uncommon."

Thyrse scowled. "So rather than go through proper channels to handle this properly, you instead encourage anyone who isn't sure to simply give up."

"It's easier to temper eagerness than it is to create it from nothing," she explained. "And both are easier than looking to policy change for a solution."

"But--"

Umbel made an exasperated sigh. "I know, I know. Believe me, we tried. Multiple times. But apparently, any 'holistic' selection of candidates is simply too unfair for the Ensemble to bear. Meanwhile, I watched half of my pupils break down from the stresses of the job. New candidates replaced them, but they too were more afraid of leaving Perphia than they were of becoming a practitioner. Nothing changed."

It wasn't the first time Thyrse had heard of something like that happening. Though well-intentioned, the Ensemble's methods of measuring fairness were not always... well, fair. Pragmatism was sacrificed for ideology. Real concerns were dismissed as minutiae. It was a constraint that took ingenuity to work within.

"So you found a different solution."

"I spearheaded the directive, actually. There was nothing wrong with the old way we portrayed ourselves, of course--it was straightforward and honest. We just needed to be a bit more intimidating, a bit more serious."

It made sense--of course no one was like that. Of course it was all an act. How foolish he was, to not realize until told! Sure, there were perhaps some practitioners who were first and foremost obsessed with sex, and put everything else second. But for that to be the norm was absurd. At the very least, Umbel seemed alright.

"And this system worked?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Slowly, at first. And of course, it is difficult to untangle causes and effects, especially when coupled with a thousand other changes we made. But I do believe it to be one of the more effective ones. It worked on you, after all." She frowned. "I think. A little weird, since you're still here."

"I didn't even take the margin test."

"I know. It's not the first time exceptions have been made, but without a reproductive score?" Umbel shook her head. "Someone's been pulling strings for you, Thyrse."

That would have made sense, but no one he knew had that kind of clout. There were a few researchers at the soil nutrition lab, but unless he vastly underestimated their importance, there was no way they were directly responsible for this. He could ask if they talked to others about it, though.

But perhaps this was not the kind of thing to pry into; perhaps it was the type of unofficial thing that would dissolve were he to look too closely. Or maybe it had all been a mistake, a simple misfiling. Either way was fine by him. There was no need to question the ideal outcome. He could pretend to be complacent if something was awry--if there were indeed some issue, it was hardly his responsibility.

"Afraid I don't know anyone like that," he said. "So... that means I won't be a practitioner, then?"

Umbel suppressed a snort. "You were never going to become a practitioner."

Of course he wouldn't. They couldn't force him to. Still, it was lovely to hear someone else echo his sentiment. His teachers certainly hadn't, and neither had his classmates. If only they could see him now. Maybe some would, later.

Thyrse walked over to the pool and looked into it. His eyes had adjusted to the dim lighting of the room, but he could just barely make out the rough silhouette of his face. Ripples from the pump made the edges hazy. It was not a reflecting pool.

"Does that mean that I'll be doing research, instead? Full-time?" He stuck his front leg into the water and splashed it. It was shallow, but he did not scrape against the bottom.

"Probably. I looked through your background, you know. Frankly, your research was the only thing that stood out. Nothing else could have pushed you over the line." She chuckled and moved to stand next to him. "I hear your paper was quite divisive, too. Apparently, your commissioned name carries some notoriety."

"The results were good. A two-percent increase in ardeo yield."

"In theory."

"In small-scale practice. Clearly someone else agrees, or I wouldn't be here."

Umbel snorted. "I suppose that's true."

An awkward silence fell between the two, leaving nothing but the sounds of the circulating pool. Thyrse glanced at the trembling surface of the water. He had his suspicions about its purpose--but better to be sure.

"What's this puddle for, anyways?"

"Easy cleanup. And bragging rights. Not every practitioner gets something like this, you know. Plus, it's plain fun."

Of course it was for sex. It was Health and Reproductive Services, after all; everything that wasn't a document or writing utensil was for sex. And even those weren't off the table.

"Easy cleanup... so you stand in it?" Thyrse asked, simultaneously intrigued and a bit disgusted.

"Or lay, or roll around, or bring in some furniture..."

"And there's enough circulation to flush everything? It looks like it's just a trickle."

"Want to find out?"

Umbel stepped into the water with a practiced ease, sinking in halfway to her knees. There was barely a ripple in the surface, her scales becoming one with the mirror-like surface of the water.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little bit excited," she said, lifting her tail to show him shiny, silver scales and round flesh surrounding a fascinating bit of pink.

"I suppose that's your job." He forced himself to take no more than a casual glance. It wasn't hard at first, but each second became incrementally harder than the last. He found that his eyes simply wanted to relax there. But while he could rein in his vision--albeit with effort--other parts of his body were not so easily restrained.

"No, it's not. My job is to make sure you get what you need. Not to be excited for it. Trust me--being excited gets exhausting. But you're new, Thyrse. In my fifty years here, it's been one practitioner after another. I'll leap at the opportunity for anything else any chance I get." She met his eyes. "You know, you're allowed to look. I'm not trying to be modest, here."

Thyrse let his eyes wander, taking another glance. Just a bunch of shapes, really. But they were good shapes. There was something appealing about the roundness of her butt, the way her legs were spread as to invite him closer. Her tail was flagged up. Every line of her body drew his gaze inwards, towards that one part she wanted him to look at.

He felt the tip of his penis begin to slip out of his slit, and he shifted his weight to one side to hide it--which he realized, in hindsight, brought more attention to his erection than if he had simply left it alone. Umbel smiled at him and raised her hips higher.

The motions played out in his head. He could feel the muscle movements he needed to make, planned out so that he would be atop her in a second. Their hips would meet and he would bury his cock all the way inside her. It would only take action; he need only to realize the thought and do it.

It would be easy to make those motions. It would be easy to give in to instinct, to let his body guide him. It would be easy because it had evolved to be easy, and because Health and Reproductive Services removed every single barrier they could to make it so. The decision was only made easier by a desire to continue to live in Perphia.

But as much as his body yearned to mate, Thyrse would not let his actions be solely determined by lust. Sex was fine--it was a prerequisite, and sounded far from unpleasant--but he would retain control of himself. He would be the same person as always, just with some other stuff mixed in. It would be additive, not reductive---and most of all it would be deliberate.

He forced himself to look away, back to Umbel's face. She gave him a sly grin and licked her chops.

"Sorry," Thyrse said. "It just... seems weird." He stole another glance.

"That's okay--that's what excites me! Everyone else I see... they don't think it's weird. They already know what they want, and they're hardly shy about it." She stretched herself lower, spreading her hind legs even further apart to emphasize her point. Her voice turned sultry. "Something you haven't seen before, Thyrse?"

He had--but not like this. Not with the intent directed towards him.

"There were the mating demonstrations," he said.

"Ah, yes, the mating demonstrations."

They gave them to the class every few moons, during health class. It had been confusing, the first time. Overwhelming, the second. Afterwards, it was simply knowledge. Arousing knowledge, but knowledge nonetheless. Yet after the six or seventh time, it was clear that the purpose of watching two strangers rut each other was not solely educational. They didn't have each student line up to get a close look at those wet, heaving thrusts and the messy aftermath for educational purposes. They were doing it to normalize it, to ease the transition into this exact moment.

Had they stopped after the third time, it might have even worked. But they made such an effort to pound it into every student's head! Rebelling against the conditioning was only natural. They had taken the knowledge and poisoned it.

"I presented, once," she said, with a flippant wave of a foreclaw. "Not for you--it was a while ago. The experience was interesting, albeit clinical. There was a lot of waiting. Normally, I would clean myself up right away, but first everyone had to get a look, and then there were all the questions..."

Thyrse pictured what that would look like. It wasn't hard; he did it automatically. It was simply a matter of mentally applying the mess to the exposed dragoness in front of him. Cum would be seeping out of that orifice, dripping in long strands to the ground. Those fine, vulvar scales would be smeared with excess lubrication, the wet shininess making them seem even more polished than the rest. His heart skipped a beat.

"There's only so much that can be taught in that setting, anyways. You learned what pussy looks like, sure. But not how it smells, when pressed against your snout. Or how it tastes, deep inside. And especially not what it'll feel like when I envelop your cock and coax out every last drop of your seed."

"I... suppose not," he stammered.

Umbel walked forwards, splashing her way to the center of the pool. Then she hooked the tip of her tail around a labial fold, pulling it to the side to stretch herself open. "Then why don't you come and learn?" she called.

"In the pool?" Thyrse asked, incredulous.

Umbel merely turned her head and cemented her posture in response.

"Uh... shouldn't I have ardeo first?"

"Ardeo addles the mind, and I want to teach you a few things first."

"Please don't treat me like some practitioner pupil of yours. I'm not."

Umbel sighed. "I'm quite aware. Consider them life skills, if it makes you feel better. And I promise you'll enjoy them if you let yourself."

Thyrse dropped his gaze from Umbel down the to surface of the pool. He was fully erect and had given up on hiding it. He was pretty sure Umbel knew, anyways. Hell, she had probably even timed it this way, once she realized he was getting aroused. She had the experience to do it--fifty years was nearly as long as he had been alive.

He was torn. Ardeo was, after all, the whole point. This was a waste of time. But then he looked at Umbel, at her incredibly revealing pose, and he could not deny that a part of him wanted to be there right now. It was just an urge, though--a mere urge. A suggestion from his body to his brain, something he could choose to respect or not.

"I suppose you don't have to, Thyrse--ardeo is the only hard requirement--but unless you're staunchly opposed, I recommend you take the plunge."

His head lifted up. Somehow her position looked even more appealing than he had remembered it being, though he knew she had changed nothing about it. Memory was no substitute for the real thing. It could handle parts, in isolation--the way chest kissed the water at a tangent point, the muscled base of her tail, that exact shade of vaginal pink--but it failed to render all of these things simultaneously.

"Look, Thyrse. I know you're nervous. But this is a safe environment. I'm not going to judge you. If there's any time to let yourself experiment, it's now. You won't find a better opportunity, and putting it off certainly isn't going to help."

That much was indeed true. Perphia necessitated ardeo, and ardeo necessitated sex. By accepting the former, he accepted the latter. They would mate during this appointment. That was a given. The question was one of quantity.

But that had never been the true problem. It wasn't about a lack of safety or desire; he felt ample amounts of each. It was like she had said: now was the time figure things out, while everything was easy and controlled. Hell, maybe it was even a good idea to put the ardeo off for a little bit, just to be a little more aware of what was going on.

No; his worry was that the experience would make him a different person, turn him into some stranger who had lost his ideals. Perhaps it would feel so good that he would want more, to the detriment of something else. His classmates would have been right the whole time. He would be mentally fit for the role of practitioner. Maybe he would even take a halftime position, the way everyone wanted.

Or perhaps it would be more subtle: he would begin to love ardeo, to love the experiences it brought. The ardeo dependence was not something to be destroyed--it was to be embraced! Never mind how seemingly every other species got along perfectly fine without it. No, ardeo was meant to be! They need only get back to surplus. Fixing anything at the genetic level would be unethical, after all.

"At least give me an answer, Thyrse." Her tone was solemn.

He could ask the question. It couldn't hurt anything except his pride, and this was perhaps not the best setting to preserve it anyways.

"Do we... change?" he asked. "I mean, you've overseen margin tests, I'm sure. Are the dragons that come out the same as they were when they went in?"

Umbel considered it for a moment. "You might change. But you're thinking about this the wrong way, from the outside in. After mating for the first time... it's not that you're being changed, so much as it is that you're learning more about yourself. It's something that has been a part of you the entire time. You just haven't explored that part of yourself yet." She shifted her position, sighing into a stretch. "And if that counts as change... why would you reject it?"

Thyrse took a slow breath. That was right--it was just knowledge. He could choose how to use it. It would only change him if he let it.

He dropped a forepaw into the water. It was warm--almost hot, even. The pool had the depth of a tub, perhaps, except spread out over a larger area. He slid the rest of the way in. The water lapped at his belly.

"That's it," Umbel said. "Come get a nice, close look."

He did not need the encouragement--not anymore, at least. The edge of the pool was a threshold. On this side of it, he was committed. And if that was not enough, that ever-intensifying, peculiar smell would drag him the rest of the way in.

Thyrse waded forwards, splashing towards Umbel. She stood there watching, still with her tail flagged up. He wanted to run, to get there faster, but the pool made things difficult. There was time to think, to watch, to feel the discomfort of his erection dragging under the water as he strove towards her.

The arousal he had felt during the mating demonstrations paled in comparison to what he felt now. He found Umbel physically appealing, yes--but the mating demonstrations had been presented by practitioners, and they had also been immaculate. It wasn't simply physical appearance. What drove him so was the intent behind her actions, the meaning hidden behind that smile as she waited for him to come to her. It was blatant desire, restrained out of politeness and directed squarely at him.

He stopped behind her. The pool was deeper here, though not to the point of swimming. The room fell quiet without his rhythmic splashes. He looked back and forth between her rear and her head. Was he supposed to start?

"If you're looking for something to do, why don't you start with a nice, long sniff, to get the juices flowing." She jutted her rear out, the motion stretching her lips open, revealing yawning flesh with threads of arousal draped between either side. There was depth. He had never been this close before.

Thyrse hesitantly brought his nose near her slit and gave a short whiff. Her scent was overwhelming. His vision sparkled from its intensity and sent his head spinning. He closed his eyes in a vain attempt to focus.

"Go at your own pace... but if you want my opinion, you should really dig in there. Trust me." To emphasize her point, she curled her tail around to the back of his head and gently nudged him forward until his nose bumped up against something warm and wet.

Thyrse opened his eyes to find his field of vision entirely filled with the round shape of Umbel's rear. He exhaled as a groan, letting his eyes follow the length of her tail. Where it met her body sat the dark, concave asterisk of her anus. He let his eyes slide down the powdery scales of her perineum. Her pussy was partially obscured by his snout. A bit of fluid dribbled onto his nose.

"Enjoying the view?"

Thyrse nodded, but the motion pushed his muzzle against her and he felt something give. Umbel chuckled and pushed back into him, smearing fluid onto his snout and into his nostrils. His next inhale tasted warmer than usual.

"There you go," she said. "You'll be smelling me for a bit, now."

Calling it a smell was an understatement. It was in each heady breath, omnipresent, overriding every other scent and replacing it with unbridled lust. His nose took the arousal and funneled it straight to his loins, where his erection sat half-underwater. He wanted more.

He rubbed his snout against her vulva, smearing the juices around. He played with her labia, entranced by the stretchiness of the skin. All the while he huffed, eager to fill his nose with as much of her scent as he could.

Umbel whispered to him. "You're allowed to use your tongue, you know."

Thyrse considered this for a moment. It did not take long for him to decide that it was indeed a very good idea. He let his tongue slide out of his mouth, tracing over the fine, wet scales of her vulva. There might have been flavor there, but he was too aroused to care. He spent his time instead reveling in the texture of her nether scales, tracing over the plump contours of flesh and the furrow of her slit.

He moaned and pushed further in--first with his head, and then with his tongue. The former was easy, and Umbel reciprocated in kind, helpfully grinding with more pressure against his snout. Getting his tongue in, on the other hand, presented a challenge. After a moment of fidgeting, he discovered that his angle had been wrong. When he found it the right one, he slid more tongue into her than he had intended, lubricated by saliva and vaginal fluid alike.

Umbel exhaled a pleasured hiss. "That's it."

Thyrse felt the squeezing and the pressure of her walls as he fellated her, picturing what it would feel like if it were his penis instead. Given that it was halfway beneath the surface of the water, he could nearly pretend. The wetness was analogous, but it lacked the muscled grip that squeezed his tongue. It felt good enough though, so he began to hump into the water.

"A bit lower," she said, angling her hips to help him along.

Thyrse obliged, pushing his tongue down against her and rubbing with all the force he could muster. It was the right spot, judging from the way her tail tried to shove him in further when he hit it. All the while, he kept thrusting into the water, trying to time it with the squeezes she gave his tongue.

He felt a growing sensation in his pelvis. He fought to hold it back, focusing on ensuring that no place was left unlicked, but it only grew stronger. He stopped thrusting. It made ignoring it easier, but the sensation was still that of water rising above a dam.

Thyrse made a high-pitched whine, stifling it when Umbel whipped her head around. But instead of looking at his face, her eyes immediately darted to his cock, which he had fully submerged in a thrust. She did not need to see those milky-white strands to know that they were there.

"Did you just cum from eating me out?" she asked, looking back at Thyrse with giddy excitement.

Thyrse gave deep, heavy breaths in response, batting at a few errant strings of arousal that had followed him back. He had, hadn't he? That had to be what that was. He couldn't hold it back--something had gotten through.

"Sorry, I couldn't--"

"Don't apologize. That made me feel so hot, Thyrse. I mean, I know I am absurdly sexy, but damn, if that isn't a confidence boost. That's what I meant, before--there's not a practitioner on the planet, trainee or not, that could have given me that."

"Is that... good?" Thyrse huffed.

"Well, I loved it. Looks like you liked it, too. Though I do hope you saved a bit for my dessert."

"Oh... figuratively, or?"

"I meant taking your cock in my mouth and drinking your cum until one of us can't keep going. Unless you need a break?"

His erection sprung up from its semi-flaccid state as she described the act. Apparently that last orgasm had not been enough. He had done his best to cut it off, after all.

"That part is... fine." He shuffled uneasily. "Isn't it a waste, though? I heard we weren't supposed to do that."

"I'm gravid now, so it's really all the same to me. It's just as valuable to my mouth as it would be anywhere else." She grinned. "Besides, you're not fertile yet, and you skipped the margin test. You're not even part of the count."

She led him to a shallower portion of the pool closer to the edge. He swam while she walked.

"This ought to do. Let's see what we're dealing with." She motioned for Thyrse to lay down.

He did so, rolling to the side until his back was resting on the bottom of the pool, his crotch halfway out of the water. His penis was fully erect, the tapered length jutting out of his hips and into the air. The knot was partially engorged.

"Oh dear... that is one excited penis. Ready?"

Thyrse felt himself nod before he processed what she had asked. That was fine. It was a good decision. The reasoning could catch up later.

Umbel became a flash of silver and was upon him in an instant, grabbing either side of his hips in her forepaws and pulling him into her mouth entirely. Thyrse couldn't help but gasp from the sudden warmth and stimulation. It felt far better than he had expected. Compared to thrusting into the water, there was no competition.

He had masturbated once before, but that had been a rather impromptu affair, and certainly involved more work than pleasure. Umbel's treatment was far more effective, though he wondered if it was just because she was someone else, or if it was because she was that much more stimulating.

She made it clear that it was the latter case when she slinked her tongue around his knot and pulled up on it, gently squeezing the bulb as if she could force something out. Thyrse was pretty sure that wasn't how it worked mechanically, but he could not deny its effectiveness. He was particularity sensitive there. He bucked his hips into her face. Already he felt that odd, familiar pressure building in his loins.

"Agh..." he grunted, pushing on her head, trying to tell her what she already knew. He regretted it when she popped off of him, exposing the wet flesh to the cold air. She was careful to make a loud and wet sucking noise as she did.

"Having fun?" She left her mouth agape and her tongue lolling.

"I was close."

She threw her head back and laughed. "Thyrse, you're a dear, but there was no need to warn me. I'm a professional. And I wasn't kidding around, before--I want to know what you taste like. And I want it all. So don't hold back! Or try to, and fail spectacularly. Either way is fine by me."

Thyrse would have replied, but Umbel engulfed his entire length in her mouth again before he had the chance to do so. The words crumbled from his mind, entirely replaced by pleasure. How she had managed to form sentences while he had been eating her out, he had no idea. He was inexperienced, but surely even a fraction of this much pleasure was mind-numbing.

Her tongue was fervent, dancing over his urethra, coiling down his shaft, sliding over every bit of sensitive skin it could find. It left afterimages of sensation that made it feel like she was in multiple places at once. He couldn't even place her tongue--by the time he felt coil around one part, she had already moved to start dancing along another.

The pressure built and became too much to bear. Thyrse was struck by a burst of euphoria-induced panic once he realized it was inevitable. When he ejaculated, it nearly hurt. He used muscles he didn't even know that he had and could feel the force behind each spurt.

Umbel looked pleasantly surprised as his semen flung itself into the roof of her mouth. Thyrse had expected her to recoil, or at least to make some negative reaction, but instead she leaned in, taking his cock deeper and humming. This certainly did nothing stem the flow. Spurt after spurt followed, glutting her mouth with his seed. She kept a firm hold of his shaking body until his orgasm waned into a dribble. Semen leaked out of the corners of her mouth, the viscous fluid dribbling slightly before stopping. He couldn't tell if he had actually made that much, or if Umbel was putting on a show for his sake.

She left no room for doubt as she showed him her open mouth, revealing a white, messy pool that he could make out by contrast even in the dim light. A bit fell out, dropping into the water with an audible plop. Keeping constant eye contact with him, she closed her mouth and swallowed. Then she looked confused and swallowed again.

"Gah," she exhaled, wiping her face into the crook of her wing. "That was... interesting. Guess that's what happens you're that pent up, huh?"

"It was different?" he panted.

"Definitely. It was so... adherent? Like, you left a coating in my mouth---I swear there's still a film in there. And it didn't want to all go down at first, but I made it."

"That was... a lot."

"Yeah. You're a productive little drake. I guess you had a lot saved up, but still, that's a lot without ardeo. Which reminds me." She stood up in the water. "It's about that time. I'll go grab it. Be right back."

As she stepped out of the pool, Thyrse took the time to center himself. He hadn't realized how tense he had been--he loosened and sank a little deeper into the pool, sighing. He closed his eyes, focusing on the faint trickle of the water pump. His breathing began to slow down. His heart stopped racing.

That had been... illuminating. He now understood why someone would want more of this, because he now wanted more of it. When he had imagined what an appointment with Health and Reproductive Services would look like, it had never been anything like this. It was formal, stuffy, and to the point. The sex was something to be checked off on a list, and he was perfectly okay with that. It was just routine. Such was the cost of living in Perphia, and it was one he would willingly pay.

But now, he didn't think of it as a cost. He had imagined it as such, but thinking about how it felt to eat out Umbel, how it felt to watch her drink her fill from him... no, that was certainly not a cost. He hadn't given anything up. Had he?

He didn't feel any different. Now that he was no longer lust-addled, everything seemed normal. He wanted more sex, sure, but it didn't override or replace his goals. He still wanted to do research. He still wanted to fix Perphia, to cure the ardeo dependence.

But it was never the sex he had to worry about.

"Here you go," Umbel said, standing behind him at the edge of the pool. She held out a small vial of something that looked like honey. "Lucky you, getting a full dose for your first time."

He didn't take it from her. "I only need half, right?"

"From a dosage standpoint, sure. But they prepackage them, and it's policy. Can't put it back after it's taken out."

"Isn't that too much, though?"

"It won't be harmful, if that's what you mean. If anything, it ought to be even better than usual."

Thyrse heard her inflection. He didn't need that kind of "better." Not with ardeo. He wanted the standard, tried-and-trued method.

"If it's policy, I can take half, and then..." He looked down at the water's surface.

"That's fifteen days of someone's life. You will not dump it. Take it all. Now."

He considered pushing his point some more, but could tell from the look on her face that it would be fruitless. Sighing, he took the vial from her and put the straw into his mouth.

Supposedly, the taste of refined ardeo was quite horrible--and as the taste hit him, Thyrse was inclined to agree. It had acrid flavor that lingered, which its school-glue texture did nothing to ease. Every instinct in his body told him that it was not something to be ingested. But he did so anyways, feeling Umbel's eyes bore into him as he forced himself to drink every last drop.

He dropped the empty vial on the edge of the pool and promptly plunged his face underwater in an attempt to flush out the aftertaste. It almost worked. There was still a twinge of something chemical in the back of his throat, but it was tolerable.

Umbel chuckled. "I did something similar the first time I had it. You'll get used to it."

Thyrse groaned and pulled himself out of the pool. The water trickled off of his scales in rivulets, running down the slight incline of the floor and back into the water. The air was frigid. He must have rinsed his nose out as well, because he could smell the room again.

"What did I say? Easy cleanup."

"Hmph." He curled up on the floor. It was only a matter of time, now.

"Let me know when you're ready for round two." Umbel stepped away, grabbing the now-empty vial before engrossing herself in the mess of papers she had left out.

Thyrse closed his eyes and tried to get comfortable on the tile. He swore the tip of his tail was tingling. It wasn't the ardeo. He wouldn't feel that for a little while. Maybe it was the cool air, or perhaps blood flow changes from the sex. Or it maybe it was just placebo.

It didn't really matter, in the end. The next half-hour was predetermined. Ardeo left no room for doubt. It would start with the thirst. He already felt thirsty, but it was only normal thirst. Ardeo thirst would be worse--he would have to make up for everything his body would prepare, and that was supposedly quite a lot.

After that would come the arousal. That would be hard to miss. The intensity would be unnatural, like the thirst. It would grow stronger and stronger, demanding to be addressed. Somewhere along the way he would lose himself to the ardeo-induced fever. Then, sometime later, he would return to normal, save for orange eyes, blurred vision, and of course the fertility.

But all that would take time. Not much time, now. Minutes, perhaps. How long had he been laying down, anyways? Surely it wasn't that long. Though he did feel parched. But that was probably normal--he couldn't remember the last time he had had a drink. He stood up and stretched.

"Umbel," he croaked. "Can I get some water?"

"Help yourself."

Thyrse glanced at the pool. "I meant water to drink."

"Nothing in there that hasn't been in one of our mouths." Her tone was playful, but he could tell it was in earnest. There were water fountains on the main floor, but he was pretty certain it was bad practice to leave right after having ardeo.

He started at the water. It did look refreshing, but the thirst wasn't that bad. It was only normal thirst, after all. He could afford to wait.

Several more minutes passed. As he paced around the pool, he grew progressively more parched. There was no clear boundary between the natural thirst and the ardeo-induced thirst--it simply worsened until it became unbearable. At some point, however, there was no denying its root cause.

The gleaming surface of the water looked tantalizing. Frankly, a muddy puddle would have been rather appealing. There had been enough of this game--the ardeo was indeed working. It was time to drink. He dipped his mouth into the pool and took a shallow gulp. It was warm, but otherwise plain. He took another swallow, and then another, until he was greedily lapping away at it.

Thyrse quenched himself. It was stupid to have waited this long--the water had seemed gross at first, but it was sufficiently fresh and dilute as to be indistinguishable from tap. Drinking it had been not just refreshing, but downright satisfying.

With a contented sigh, Thyrse lifted his head from the pool to find Umbel standing next to him.

"Someone was thirsty."

Thyrse remained silent. He caught her smell.

"You held out for a while. It's unhealthy. If your curiosity is satisfied, don't try it again."

"I wanted to be sure." He felt an erection coming on.

Umbel scoffed. "Sure that the ardeo would work? There was never any doubt."

That was not entirely true. It was technically possible--not everyone responded to ardeo in the same way. Some needed more, some less. Others had stronger reactions or weaker reactions. There were even a few rare cases for which ardeo had no effect whatsoever. Normally such differences would be discovered during the margin test and noted, but that didn't quite apply here. But on average, the response to ardeo was thesame. There had been no reason to suspect he would be any different.

"Well now I know that," he whispered.

Thyrse felt his cock throb and smack up against his midsection. He took and quick glance to find it had smeared precum onto his belly and was now beginning to drip in gossamer threads onto the ground. He whipped his head up, but the image stuck in his head. There was a lot.

Umbel made a knowing smile. She turned around, keeping her tail low to preserve her modesty. It didn't do anything to hide the smell. "Did you want to get started?"

Yes. "The fever--"

"--will do its own thing. Soon. If you want to have the chance to enjoy it, we should start now."

"Oh."

He ached for it. The erection wasn't uncomfortable, but it was sensitive. He remembered how it had felt when she had fellated him. The thought alone made him shiver. More of that would be good. Surely burying his cock in her would also feel good. And she was offering, too--the decision fell to him. He need only say yes.

But was it him who would be accepting? Or would it be the ardeo? He had no doubt it had an effect on him, given how much he was leaking. And making thoughts did feel a little bit... slow. Even so, he still felt like himself, albeit hornier than usual.

Maybe it didn't matter.

"You... want it? I know it's your job, and all, but..."

"Thyrse, I already told you. Being authentic is what I want from you, even if you're inexperienced. Especially then. It's exciting for me because I don't know what to expect, and I get to guide you through it. And if you don't believe me... well, I've got something to show you."

She lifted her tail. Thyrse knew what to expect this time, but it did nothing to prepare him. He was just as enthralled as before. She was clearly aroused--there wasn't just a slit, but swollen, exposed folds of fine scales and skin surrounding it. Fluid dribbled through that crack. She had dried off from the pool already, so he knew it wasn't water. He made the decision.

The movements came naturally. He climbed atop her, forepaws scraping for purchase on either side of her her midsection. Eventually he managed to scramble up, resting his weight on her. Umbel shifted to balance, until they had both found a comfortable position.

Thyrse gave light thrusts. His cock prodded against warm scales. He couldn't see where he was aiming, but it would only be a matter of time. Probably. But everything here was too convex--he needed something more concave.

"Let me help."

Thyrse felt Umbel's tail wrap halfway around the tip of his penis. The sensation was electric. She slowly guided his next thrust low, so low that he had to slide down a bit, until he felt warm, liquid heat embrace it.

His body immediately demanded that he push it the rest of the way in. Who was he to question that command? He pushed further in, and Umbel dragged him the rest of the way. Her vagina was at once slippery and grippy, constantly coaxing him deeper and yearning for his seed.

Umbel made a shallow, shaking exhale. "Oh... yes, that's it, Thyrse."

Her mouth had felt good before---the best Thyrse had ever felt, even. But it had always been a proxy for this, he realized, and it paled in comparison. No tongue could match the precise clenches of vaginal muscles. No mouth could have that close, slick texture, stimulating every part of his penis at once. It just wasn't made for it.

He began thrusting. Umbel helped him along, meeting him on each one. The stimulation felt good. The smells smelled good. Even the sounds were good--those wet, staccato plaps were music to his ears. He wished it would never end.

It was different. It didn't just feel better. The rest of the world was gone. There were only the two of them, and nothing else mattered. It was the peak of existence.

And when the ardeo fever hit, the fall from that peak was abrupt.

The pleasure faded to a dull roar. It wasn't enough. His purchase was lacking, his thrusts too shallow. Thyrse snarled. He could do better. He wrapped his forelegs around Umbel's midsection and held on tight. The wet, plopping sounds from their hips rose into deafening smacks, accelerating in pace.

Umbel said something. Encouragement, probably. He hadn't caught the words, but her tone had seemed vaguely positive. It was welcome, albeit unneeded. He already knew. It could be no other way.

Thyrse felt resistance as his knot pressed against Umbel's entrance, which still refused to admit the bulb. That was fine. Though he ached for release, he could persist. His penis slickened with each thrust, and it had now reached his knot. It would only be a matter of time.

Another thrust, another slap--closer, this time. Deeper. Umbel squeezed and dragged, pulling him further in, massaging him. So close. Maybe the next one would do it.

Thyrse threw all of his weight behind the next thrust and went further than he had expected. Umbel's walls closed around his knot, forming an airtight seal in preparation for the next minute. There was something about that spot on the rear of his knot that was simply too sensitive, and it set him off.

He felt the first jet of semen as it rushed through his urethra. There was resistance there, as there would be with forcing that much liquid through any small tube. It felt lovely, though, and Umbel apparently agreed, sighing as it struck a point deep inside of her.

More followed. Thyrse didn't know how much, though it was a minute before the orgasm began to subside. Yet it gave no relief. His erection persisted, the pleasure persisted, and the stimulation grew ever more intense. Soon he was thrusting again, taking whatever motion the tie would permit.

He didn't remember how long he had kept thrusting, but he did remember it had been enough to get a second orgasm. Maybe a third--his head was all fuzzy. Eventually, though, it was enough. He groaned as he felt yet another orgasm, certainly weaker in production than previous ones but no less pleasurable. This time, he felt release. The pressure dropped, the stimulation numbed, and he finally felt the afterglow of the mating. Satisfied, he loosened his grip on Umbel and slumped down on top of her.

Umbel waited a few minutes before she nudged at him, urging him off of her. The fever had worn off and he was still a little groggy, but she was insistent. Ties would normally be a little annoying to separate, but due to their relative sizes, Thyrse found it easy. There was no discomfort--besides the cold air--as he removed his penis.

The seal now broken, his seed was free to flow out. He watched as it dripped out of her pussy, not as drops but as spills as thick as a claw. They connected with the ground audibly, and were absolutely mesmerizing.

"Welcome to Perphia, Thyrse."