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"Pungent and foul. Dill's right, it smells like rotten eggs."

Tare forced a chuckle through his puckered, grimacing face. No one was there to talk with, to steady his nerves, but complaining at least helped him work through the stifling sulfur odor in the ritual workshop. Disgusting, yet necessary. Only a few more pinches of the powder and the hexagon would be closed. The last angle looked like it was going to turn out a little wonky, admittedly. And this wasn't a ritual he could afford to screw up. But damn it, he was an Arcanarium student, and neither a child nor a fool! Even if he didn't have the smarts in high school to earn admission to the coveted Ritualism program itself, he'd gotten into the school. That was enough. That was more than 99% of wanna-be's could say. He could do this.

Done. He hacked out a loogie that he swore was somehow yellow-tinged, then placed the protractor at the hexagon's final angle. The yellow powder was smeared all over the black numbers from his repeated, inept use. Why hadn't he placed a basin of water just outside the hexagon to clean his hands and tools with? Was that something actual ritualists did? He cast his mind back to the countless videos he'd grown up watching on his phone. Yes, he seemed to recall tubs and beakers and the like placed within arm's reach. Water to clean with or something else?

Tare sighed. He was distracting himself. He was doing this today, now, and come what may. Yes, it was summer break, security could randomly patrol past the workshop at any minute and kick him out. He'd lose this one chance forever. They wouldn't care when he showed them Dill's key, the key only a Ritualism student or staff member could have. They wouldn't pity his being friendless and alone. Even in university. They wouldn't stand for his sob story of wishing his whole life to be a Ritualist at the New England Arcanarium, only to be forced to settle for Magic Theory. No one could understand how infuriating, how gut-wrenching, how damn _unjust_it was for someone with his passion to be denied the one thing he had ever wanted. No one could understand why he was forced to this except Tare himself.

117 degrees was his best guess for the reading. Not far from 120. Was that within acceptable error margins for this ritual? Tare didn't know. Tare wasn't even allowed to rent out books from the Ritualism section at the library. "117's fine," he murmured. He might end up with asymmetric wings or an extra horn. Not the end of the world. Tare peered down at his notebook yet again. These compact scratchings were the culmination and final version of all the instructions he'd managed to put together the last few years for this particular ritual. Ritualist he was not, and likely never would be, but anyone skilled and dedicated could imitate a pro once.

The page told him to next move from Circle Phase to Inspection Phase. This was it. Carefully rising, Tare stretched up onto his tip-toes. That felt good after an hour and change kneeling on the rug. The August sunshine was going to feel great on his new body. He closed his eyes, imagining the rush of wind over his scales as he dove through the sky in his new body. His wing membranes would glut on that suffusing sunshine in a way human sun-tanning couldn't match. Today he might reach that dream. No, he would reach it!

For a few minutes, his thoughts were fully occupied by the inspection. The candles looked right. Right quantity, right height, right wax type. The chalk sigils were fine; he'd read their supposed meanings a hundred times each. The mineral stones were placed in spots that looked correct. The dazzlingly complex geometric pattern within the outer hexagon warmed Tare's heart. He'd drawn that.

Then again, there were a hundred ways this could go wrong. He simply didn't have the training. He didn't know if you were supposed to trim off any leaves from the little Dracaena reflexa plant if they looked dead or rotting, and he didn't know the correct pronunciation and rhythm for some of the incantation words that he'd never heard spoken. The end result could easily be different from Tare's goal, or it might fail entirely. Worst case, it would kill him. Well, if this didn't work, maybe death would be the best case scenario. He imagined it would be quick and painless. Some of the videos he'd seen on the Epic Ritual Fail site (before it was taken down) were pretty gnarly. Fiery explosions. Human shriveling. Fun stuff.

He allowed himself three or four more minutes of misgivings. They would not change his mind. He'd crammed all summer and broken at least ten school rules. There could not be another 'I'll try it next week for sure'. There was no next semester or next summer. Not for him. Time for the Casting Phase.

Tare stripped and carefully tossed his T-shirt, shorts, socks, shoes, and boxers. No point in arranging them to be put back on. He raised his notebook and turned to the last page he'd need. A quivering inhalation and steadying sigh. Then he chanted the rehearsed words, loudly and firmly.

Iam incipit ex me figurae mutatio,

Sicut draco loqui vulgo intelligitur!

Quaeso,sede, complementum,

Uelocitas celebritatem, salubritas non dolor!

Corpus scinditur aperire viam meam, Tare Robertson,

Hic omnia complexus est novae species!

Dimisit ergo virtus!

The candle flames flared tall in unison. The chalk patterns became lines of power that shined white light upward, like cracks in a wall blocking the sun. The stones rattled on the tiles as if the earth were shaking. Even the plants moved. Their stems bent toward Tare, pulled by the ritual's demand.

"It's working!" he shouted. The deeper pitch of his voice shouldn't have surprised him. The light show all around him was quite distracting. He grabbed at his chest that pushed his hands away as his ribcage swelled outward. Pressure grew at the tip of his spine. His limbs itched and tingled as the skin stretched to make room for burgeoning muscle, even as it thickened to become something that wasn't skin at all.

All of these pipe dream sensations he'd vividly imagined on those worst nights of despair and hatred. They were the escape he'd promised himself. Now, his dream was coming true! His attention was split between watching the progression of the ritual, and the flashes of reminiscence. The realization of a younger Tare's dream.

His childish grin faltered with the twinge of pain from his cheek. The transformation wasn't supposed to hurt. In fact, pain was a decent indicator that something had gone amiss in the ritual.

"No problem," he said in that low voice, even lower now. He shifted his feet apart to balance his growing weight. "No surprise I didn't get it perfect. A small error, a small change in results."

The other cheek started prickling. Prickling became burning. Then his whole face was sizzling. Tare moaned with the nausea of it as he scrabbled at his face. Had a splash of wax landed there? A burning leaf? Instead he felt horrifying shapes beneath his palms.

Something hard and black, shaped like a cone, was emerging out the corner of his mouth like splinters being rejected by his body. Yet part of his lips were being pulled away to form this structure. He could see the process unfolding even though his eyes were beginning to water from the fiery pain.

The other corner of his mouth was bulging out too. This side looked more rounded, and white. Some gray and pink appeared amid two forming craters that looked suspiciously like nostrils. Brown was the next color to appear, forming the remainder of what was soon obviously a hairy snout.

At the same time, the middle of his lips tickled and burned with the arrival of fur and whiskers. His nose turned jet black as its shape changed, fattening his cheeks to a muzzle as it pulled forward. It made no sense; how was his face wide enough to undergo three distinct changes like this? He was becoming a monster.

That was the last fully formed idea Tare could manage before there was no more room for intelligible thoughts for the splitting pain in his head. The sensations of his radically transforming body were a side-note. His hips and thighs had bloated with powerful muscle, so much so that they seemed to cut off circulation and feeling to his feet entirely. Halfway through, he'd toppled forward onto clawed paws. What could only be wings had wiggled out of his furry back. His tail grew long enough to wriggle along with his pain as if it had a mind of its own.

The splitting headache grew unbearable. He cried out in a jumble of voices. The pain radiated through his entire skull, all the way to where his neck met his torso. It became a pulling, stretching sensation, the feeling of feet crammed in too-tight shoes, of a stranglehold amping up the pressure, until his straining head and neck achieved the erupting relief of breaking free.

At long last, the pain retreated. The lines of power shone no more. The ritual components were still, the candles burnt out. Tare could think again.

---

First things first. What was the result of the ritual? Tare blinked his eyes clear of the tears. Now the black cone was in the center of his vision. There could be no mistake. It was a beak. Was he a bird? Yes, that would account for the black covering of fine feathers to his face and neck.

"I suspect my voice...indeed, creaky and warbly like a crow's. Rather, an unknown species of corvid I must suppose. And can I --" The distinctive _CAW_emerged as naturally as breathing.

"Ah! Surely then, being a corvid, I have wings?" Just like a bird, he twisted his head left to see glossy black wings upon his back. Spreading them also came naturally. Stunning, they were. His original goal of flight could still be met, too. The silver lining of his poor ritual execution. Yet, the wings emerged from his back, and their wonderful wingspan was vaster than any corvid Tare had ever seen. What of his arms?

Planted on the ground beneath his neck were two furry brown paws with dainty white claws. He spread the toes. Or should he call them fingers? A membrane stretched between them. Webbing. It tickled.

"That tickles!"

Tare followed the paws up past legs, into a short-furred creamy chest -_his_furry chest, somehow - along a neck that was parallel to his own, and finally to the face of the river otter that had spoken. Another head, on its own neck, attached to his chest. His body. At least that explained the mass of brown he'd seen in the right side of his field of vision with the eyes on the sides of his head.

"Nice to meet you, but I gotta ask: Why the long face, bird-brain?" The otter's face was furry crinkles as he laughed. The inside of his fanged, pink mouth was just as bestial as the outside. His voice was casual and vivacious. Not quite squeaky. "I'm kidding, of course. Thought we should break the ice since it looks like we're going to be stuck together."

Tare blinked and found he had cocked his head like a curious bird. He could immediately understand the otter's joke but the humor did not bring him to a smile. Although, his beak would not have accommodated the expression anyway.

"Questions, otter. Do I resemble a corvid? Can you lift your paw? And what do you think your name is?"

Tare watched as the right otter paw lifted up, answering the second question. He could feel it moving, though he himself had taken no part in the action. In the same way, he could feel his body's muscles being used to shift his shoulders and the rest of his weight to the left, so he wouldn't topple over. Even his wings had spread a bit for balance. To test a different theory, he forcibly _allowed_his right leg to settle back to the ground. His awareness of his body grew slightly more focused as he gained direct control of the limb.

"Huh," said the otter. Tare agreed. They shared the body and its control, though when he wasn't moving himself, he was essentially a passenger.

"Well Mr. Crow, I'd ask your name too. I'm Tare."

"Tare."

"Oh, I'm Tare too." A new voice from the other side of the otter. A third, equine head, with a matching deep and almost gruff tone. Pink rimmed wide nostrils, a thick white stripe down the bridge, on an otherwise short-haired black muzzle.

"We can't all be Tare," said the otter uncertainly.

"You don't need to call me anything. If that's okay." A fourth voice. Quiet, distant.

Tare's avian head swiveled instantly to let him look toward his form's rump. He could _feel_his other heads and necks turning to look as well though he lacked the ability to direct their movements himself. As he tried to fold his wings to allow them line of sight to the fourth voice, he could tell their different impulses were clashing. His left wing was being raised by someone so it could be properly folded down neatly, while someone else was trying to bend the 'wrist' joint to draw the feathers down to their back. Meanwhile, his right wing was a spasming mess. The feathers were all spread out, too, so he couldn't see the wing's proper shape.

"Let me," said the otter head. "We can't all try at once."

"I like doing it," said the horse.

"He's correct," Tare said. "The otter, I mean. We may identify him as Otter." Even if he was the bird of their group, he had as little experience folding wings as they did.

"There," said Otter as he alone successfully spread their wings and slowly folded them down to a neat configuration on their back. "Thanks, Crow, Horse." He smiled again and Tare felt the tickle of the otter's whiskers on the base of his neck. Well, he supposed he had better start thinking of himself as Crow instead of Tare. A disturbing but intriguing shift in thinking.

Past the wings, their lutrine furred shoulders and upper torso widened out into something new: the proud, tall hindquarters of a horse. The definition of the different muscle groups in the strong hips were visible beneath the glistening black hair. Indeed, as Crow lifted their left hind leg, he could see the muscles as they flexed to raise their knee. Or was it a hock now? He struck downward and felt the shock of a hoof striking the room's tiled floor. Most of the ritual candles fell over. Powerful.

Horse shared his appreciation. "That's awesome."

Now the sight lines for their three heads were clear to where the fourth voice had spoken from, yet its owner was not visible. Crow focused an avian eye at an unusual detail, a break in the pattern. Where he expected to see long black horse hairs projecting outward from their hindquarters into an equine tail, instead there were bits of gray. Scales. They were matte, and had no sheen to them like the rest of their hairy coat.

"Come out, we can't see ya," called Otter.

"I suspect he's a reptile," Crow reported.

Horse's gaze was unfocused and pointed toward the far corner of the room. "Snake, feels like. So long. Weird."

"How do you know?" Crow asked.

Horse glanced at Crow, while Otter's head and neck between them was curved away to look behind them. "I can feel him. Oh, and I can see the scales through your guys' eyes." His dark eyes looked off again.

Crow croaked like a crow at this surprising piece of info. He closed his own eyes. The smell of smoke and burning, sulfur. The sound of Otter humming in thought. The feel of his large quadrupedal body. Their body. A mismatch of animal segments. With his eyes closed now, additional sensations filled his mind. He could see his own face with his eyes closed. Otter was watching him. Crow could feel Otter's stiff whiskers wobble as his puffy cheek twitched. He could hear through Horse's tall ears. He could even smell with Otter's nose the same scents of the room but more acutely.

And, he could feel what could only be the owner of the fourth voice, Snake. He'd extended his length fully so that his nose nearly brushed the burnt yellow powder of the expended ritual circle. Try as he may, Crow could not move Snake's personal muscles as he could most of their shared body. Using his sinuous body, Snake curled with ease into a 'U' shape to look upward.

His forked purple tongue wagged in the air. The accompanying hiss sounded as sad as Snake's voice. "You're using my eyes, aren't you? I can't even hide down here."

Emotional, wasn't he? Otter ate it up. "Sorry, Snake, if that's what you are. You could close your eyes if you want, but we'd love to be able to see each other."

The three waited. Finally, Snake answered. Although his voice was as quiet as ever, Crow found he could focus his attention on Snake's own sense of hearing to enhance his comprehension of each word. Through the reptile's ears (or lack thereof), the words were more like tones and twists than enunciated syllables.

"No. On both accounts. Can't feel any eyelids, and I wouldn't love to see you all. No offense. This is...all too depressing."

"Depressing?" echoed Otter.

"No one will ever be able to sneak up on us," said Crow, his mind whirring with the discoveries they kept making about their body.

"We can't bring you up," said Horse. "C'mon, flex up above our butt, I wanna see every inch of us."

Crow kept his eyes open as he mentally dove into their shared connection to see with Snake's eyes. He managed to keep both images in his mind. More or less. Snake's tongue flicked out and Crow caught a new smell. Unmistakably equine. Sweet, and tangy too. A little bit; nothing strong. He noted that Snake's tongue had been between their big hind horse legs. Crow blinked his mind's eye and refocused. Really, he shouldn't have been surprised to see their prodigious scrotum and hairless black sheath.

"Whoa," said Horse. A giddy whicker followed. Crow gauged that head had the subtelty of a firework show.

"Anyway," Otter said, sounding positive instead of exasperated, "I don't think it's depressing. It's exciting! Sure, we're not a dragon. We're still a cool magical beast, and we should still be able to fly as a..."

"Chimera," Crow supplied. Would he have been able to think of the term that readily before the ritual? As a single, united consciousness?

"Chimera! Let's live a little. Let's enjoy this mishap! You have to perk up and talk to us though, okay Snake? We're all here for you."

"And we're going to be from now on since I doubt we'll ever be able to reverse this," Crow put in. Not as a joke, but because he wanted to share the thought. Otter shot him an irritated pout. "I will express my agreement with Otter too, however. We must be united if we want to do something as simple as move our bodies. We all experienced the blundering with our wings."

"Flying," Horse murmured. Their flight feathers rustled as their wings shuffled in place.

The silence was shorter this time before Snake spoke up. "I want to think about the positives. All of this is interesting. I just...I'm also worrying about the ways this has gone wrong, and the million ways it could in the next few minutes. Or days." His head drooped closer to the ground with his hiss. "This isn't what we wanted. I don't know how we're going to move forward. If we should even try."

"Enough of that," Otter said before Crow could reply. "Snake, come up. Join us."

His tone did the trick. Snake's movement felt reluctant, but he was rising up. The three heads in the fore turned to watch as Snake rose into view.

Jet black spots covered the snake's gray scales. The beautiful color faded to a pale tan on the underside. Unlike other snakes, the front of his face was upturned and pointed like a spade. A tongue flicked out again from the spade's obvious divot. The rest of his face was wide and, despite the unblinking eyes, completely unthreatening.

"Aw, he's so cute," said Horse in his basso. Snake bent himself smaller in the air.

"I believe 'hognose' is the term," said Crow. "You're a hognose snake. We saw that video of one of them playing dead. However you're much thicker than you ought to be, and perhaps of greater length."

"Probably to match how big we are," said Horse.

"Actually, I think that's correct." He didn't attempt to hide his snark.

Horse snorted, and Otter intervened. "Hold on, not cool. None of that. United, remember? Now, let's decide our next move, friends."

Crow lapsed into silence as his mind went to work. How should they proceed? Distantly, he observed how naturally he'd let the relationship concerns slide off his back in favor of intellectual industry. He set aside the question of their next course of action in favor of following that thread. Why was his personality different? What had happened? What exactly was the nature of what they'd become? Why were their bodies and minds like this?

---

Snake had kept his head up after Otter's insistence, in a literal if not idiomatic sense. Even though he'd prefer to remain in the background, it would be better not to make a scene and get in the way of the rest of them moving forward. All he wanted to do was droop down to the floor to stew in how badly they'd messed up. Unfortunately drooping away would only get Otter mad at him again. Maybe the others too. So, he stayed upright, languidly waving or twisting in the air behind their body, as he tried not to attract attention.

Otter eventually nodded at what Crow had been talking about. No, lecturing about. "You're saying original human Tare split into four minds. Us four. Each of us is an animal that matches the head's mind."

"Correct."

"The split happened because we messed up some way, somehow, which isn't a surprise at all, and our divided focus during the ritual caused an actual divide."

"That is the most likely conclusion available to us."

"Available to you, you mean," Snake said. Immediately he regretted speaking. His scaly skin felt like it was wrinkling over the squirming muscles of his length.

"No, it's okay!" said Otter. "You can speak up. We're all a piece of Tare so we all have to contribute if we want to be like we were. Balanced, whole, complete, you know?"

Crow's intense gaze bored into Snake as he said, "I am loathe to admit it, but I agree. To address your comment though Snake, clearly I am most of Tare's intelligence. His knowledge, his drive to have understanding or mastery. I am motivated, logical, analytical. Thus when an objective opinion is formed in my mind, it is the best conclusion that we _all_have."

"Just please don't be too...bold," said Snake into the expectant silence. "Like, in February, I...Tare thought about eating the phoenix breast special in the cafeteria. Then he realized it was going to be way too spicy to enjoy. And he didn't eat it. I feel like maybe that was a good call. And, I guess I feel like the part of him that made that decision is in me now. I...hope that makes some sense."

"Yeah, means it's your job now, huh?" said Horse. Throughout the conversation, he'd been getting the hang of moving their body. They walked around the room on four legs now at a good clip under Horse's enthusiastic control. Back leg and front leg moved on one side, followed by back leg and front leg on the other. The clompingof their hooves was interspersed with the almost silent tinks from their forefeet's claws. Snake wondered if that was how horses walked, otters walked, or both. They were a freaky hybrid. The horse legs felt shorter than a real horse's, and the otter legs had to be longer proportionally than a real otter's.

"That means you should be involved too, Horse," said Otter.

"Hey, I'll get the hang of this body since I want to use it the most. I'm helping." Mostly to get them off his back, Snake thought, Horse continued with, "If Crow's the smarty-pants, what's Snake?"

"Pessimism, or an inability to be optimistic," Crow crowed. "Aversion to risk. Conservatism. The predilection to withdraw and rest, like an unchecked introvert's. Likely there is nuance there, as well as additional prominent traits, though I have very little to go off so far."

"Huh, and me?" said Horse. Snake could feel him attempting a new rhythm to their walk. A trot or canter? They'd never learned too much about horses.

Unfortunately, their front right leg wasn't where it was supposed to be when their weight shifted forward. Snake seized control of their legs. He spread their limbs in a wide rectangle to catch their body. From the way he moved, he could tell at least one other head was trying to do the same thing. Someone spurred their large wings open to full-spread.

They stumbled, they canted to the side and rotated, knocking against a metal cabinet, but they didn't fall over. Snake found that he'd swung his serpentine length out to the opposite side, like he was a rope trying to pull them back on course. Doubtful that he'd actually helped.

"Nice one, team!" said Otter. How was he so positive about them almost bashing their face in?

"You," said Crow to Horse with clipped words, "are evidently a physical creature. You want to move, and feel, and sense. There may be more to you as you have provided the least amount of information to scrutinize, though I'm skeptical that there is much more depth."

Horse's pink nostrils flared with his snort. "You don't have it all figured out. Yeah, I wanna use this new body. We gotta move sooner or later. I wanna work it out, I wanna fly, fly! Fly so much that our wings ache!"

Their body started walking again. Snake figured it was Horse's doing. "But I also don't like being in my own head. There's too much to do and see, now more than ever with this new body. I'm not gonna waste time and effort thinking and talking so much about all this with you guys."

Snake opened his jaw to protest. They needed to learn how to walk and run sooner or later though, right? Instead of words advising caution, only his tongue flicked out. The taste-smells that his tongue brought in were reassuring, like placing a balancing hand to a tree branch while hiking an uneven trail. Stilling his tongue was an option, but using it was easy, and the scents grounded him.

"I see," said Crow. "I cannot relate, though I recognize the importance of your priorities."

Otter squeaked then spoke up. "I think we can all see that Horse is essential to our group. Each of us is. Okay Crow, let's hear your thoughts on me."

"You present as the life of the party, as it were. Lively, positive, extraverted. You want to connect with people and support them too. I've detected that you seek to bring out the best in people, and in turn you strive to be your best."

"Aw," said Otter. "Me? You flatterer."

Snake didn't see those traits as very good ones. They fostered desires that were probably going to lead to more talking among themselves. Snake didn't want to be encouraged to be better. Using his own as well as Otter's eyes he could catch glimpses of Crow's face, and the avian's limited facial expression agreed with Snake.

"Sure. Obviously each of us will count our own set of traits and beliefs as the best ones to possess."

Horse burst in. "Cool, we've got everyone figured out. I've got the hang of walking. It's weird; you've gotta try it later. You guys down to head outside now? We can run or..." His already deep voice paused dramatically before dropping a few pitches further. "...fly."

"No!" Snake cried out faster than thought. "No, sorry, no. Flying is dangerous. We'll be seen for sure, too." His mind raced to find an alternative. "Why don't we go back to our dorm room instead? Do some research into how to fixing this. Or enjoy our last few hours and days outside of prison watching a good show?"

Someone stamped a hoof. Probably Horse.

"We cannot remain here forever." Crow sounded thoughtful. Hopefully he'd analyze out a safer option.

"Right," said Otter. "We still have a shot at living off the land in some unoccupied place like a national park. Only not as the magical beast we expected to be. So what? We can fly and probably hunt once we get the hang of it."

"No, no, no," Snake moaned as he writhed in the air. He was so out-voted. No one listened to him anyway. They were going to get caught and put on trial, maybe put to death, maybe just put in solitary confinement, and he'd be stuck with these people talking and talking and talking forever.

"It'll be okay Snake, really!" Otter said. So predictable! "Campus is still mostly empty. Summer's not over yet."

"Snake, you can be much more helpful by presenting your pessimism in the form of actionable concern. Or advice, even."

Crow's words made sense. Snake wanted to enjoy the prospect of leaving this room and putting their strange but honestly powerful new body to use. He really did. The risks filled his brain though. He felt like he'd just gone on a vacation with ten instances of mishap under his belt, and only wanted to curl up safe in bed to recover.

If only there were some way he could stall them besides his words. Wait. He recalled one time Horse had been distracted. Snake curved his body down to position his head beside their new genitals. Without a second thought, he flicked his tongue against the sheath.

---

He gasped. Snake gasped. Crow gasped. Otter gasped. Their body tensed. Was it he who had made their body stock-still?

Snake spoke into the silence, the panic gone. "I think I found something we should try first, before leaving."

"Are you crazy?" asked Otter. Didn't sound like his heart was in it. "We can all feel that you know."

Horse didn't really care whether it was crazy or not. Weird or not. "Do it again, Snake."

Otter let out a disbelieving squeak but Snake seemed happy to oblige. Horse focused on his unblinking eyesight. Their sheath was before him. He saw the two tines of Snake's dark tongue flick and tickle the wrinkled skin there. This time the tongue lingered for two, three seconds, slathering miniscule trails of saliva.

Horse couldn't help but whicker. He tossed the mane on his neck as the touch coursed through their tense body. Their massive, new, bestial body. It was all so exotic and weird, and powerful! This _was_crazy but it felt so good!

"More! Lather it up, Snake!"

"Agreed," said Crow in a controlled tone. "Not only is this intriguing, but it will distract us later unless we fully explore it now. This is necessary." Even the smarty was on his side. Nice.

"Now hold on," said Otter. "This isn't the best use of our time. It's risky to stay here too long, Snake. Do you really want to get caught here? Doing this, of all things?"

Dammit. Horse could feel Snake drooping away from their junk, probably reconsidering his distraction. Crow cocked his head, also in consideration. Time to go after the opposition.

"What's your problem, Otter? You trying to keep us on track just 'cause you think you're the leader?"

"What? No, I meant what I said. Besides..."

"Besides what?" asked Crow.

Otter's whiskers splayed backward with his expression. "Isn't it weird that we're all...feeling the same thing? Enjoying it?"

"It's true," said Snake morosely. "S-sex is a private thing."

Someone shuffled their wings. Crow said, "Can this not be considered masturbation as we are all but one person? That definition would make this act far less 'weird' because there is only one person in this room."

"Still, to be so intimate, and enjoying it, and...I mean we're fragments of the same person but we're all so different. We each have a head and a personality." Otter threw up a foreleg for emphasis. "I can't support us doing this right now."

"Didn't have a problem with flying," Horse said. "This is just as new and exciting."

"Let's not leave, yet," put in Snake. "Please."

Horse took the opportunity to start walking them to a corner of the room. There stood a big storage cabinet of ritual powder jars to offer them cover. That might make Snake and Otter feel more comfortable. If Otter wasn't on board, he was either going to be really annoying, or actively resistant. It wouldn't work out. _Tck tck_went their clawtips, and _clop clop_went their hooves on the tiled floor. He snorted, for fun. There was a firm blast of air that sounded like an angry horse. How cool was this!

"Fine!" said Otter. "Let's enjoy Snake licking our penis or whatever you guys have in mind. We can see it as a bonding experience. Nothing like sex to bring people together."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Horse chuckled. He let his vision lapse as he focused on what Snake was about to do.

The serpent was bringing his head toward the sheath's hole, having turned his entire length into a small spiral. Under the testicles, toward the long belly, then continuing to curve to face back towards the genitals. The tongue flicked out, and there it was. That shock as the most sensitive part of their body was tickled. There sure wasn't a lack of eagerness in Snake here. Submissive little guy.

"Envelop it," Crow suggested.

Snake's head pushed forward onto the sheath. His lower jaw sagged over the bottom, while the nose and the rest of his head slid over top. Like a glove. Or condom. It felt really good, really tight and warm. Then Snake sent his tongue out again. It slithered into the sheath's opening to flick against the head of their penis. Horse cried out along with everyone else. Their legs buckled and they collapsed onto their side.

"Holy shit," he breathed. Their penis was rapidly swelling out of their sheath, right into Snake's mouth. It was incredible how aroused he was, and so fast. Holy shit, holy shit!

"More, lick it, lick it!" Crow said sharply. Otter said nothing but there could be no mistake. They were all feeling this incredible pleasure together. To be honest, that enhanced the enjoyment of it all. Knowing they all couldn't help but feel the exact same thing.

Snake's tongue went crazy. The slick tines stroked and danced against their penis head, coaxing it out of the sheath like a bright light luring an eel from its cave. Snake didn't have much fine motor control of his tongue, but he made up for it with speed and enthusiasm.

In no time, his tongue was pressed back into the slot whence it came. Their throbbing penis was filling Snake's entire mouth. Going down his throat, in fact. Fortunately, this didn't seem to be a problem, as far as Horse could feel of Snake's body. In fact it was probably designed for this type of swallowing. Just, not horse penis.

Snake's throat began clamping down on the organ in a tentative rhythm. Then more strongly, firmly, like he was trying to swallow it as he would a mouse. Draw it deeper into his gut, the inevitable suction of his prey to his dark depths. The result was a firm, delightful pull on the entire length of their penis. A hundred rapid strokes from tip to base.

Horse tore his senses away from Snake's perspective for a moment. His hairy neck was flush with the floor tile, writhing without purpose or release as he grunted labored breaths. Otter and Crow were a similar wreck. One of them was squeaking with his eyes clenched shut, the other was _caw_ing raucously, hoarsely. Horse found they were now on their back with their wings spread wide. All four limbs of their intimidating, muscled, male body were in the air, bent like a little dog requesting its belly to be scratched.

"Fuuuck," Horse groaned before the lion's share of his attention was drawn back to Snake's senses.

The little guy had found a way to clench even harder onto their huge cock. Squeeze, relax; the cycle repeated every second. Horse swung his head up to see Snake's body with his own eyes. It wrinkled then bloated like a hyperventilating frog's throat sac. He could make out the flared head halfway down Snake's length.

"Up and down," Crow practically screeched.

Obediently, Snake retreated his length a couple inches from the base of their penis. It was difficult since he was so bloated with flesh from within. Next he propeled his mouth forward until his nose butted up against their warm testicles, akin to a feline amorously butting up against someone's legs.

"I..." Otter squeaked. "So...ahh...I can't...fuck..."

Horse could feel himself getting close. They'd all be feeling it too. Hot as fuck. As their body twisted and shook, he had an errant thought: not often did you get four people orgasming together at the same time. Snake sped up. It had to be as fast as he could go. Snakes were meant for waiting, waiting, then a lightning strike. What he was doing now was lightning-fast strike after lightning-fast strike.

The two other heads at his side screamed their passion to the workshop's ceiling. Horse could hear his own baritone echoing back at them too. Their penis blasted squirts of heat far down Snake's throat. The serpent clenched hard on their huge member as it pulsed. The pressure, the hot contact with every inch, it only heightened the pulsing. After the third convulsion of cum, the force of the bucking member propelled Snake's mouth clean off. Semen spattered their lutrine chest and neck, then their equine belly. The pleasure was nothing like orgasm as a human. It was urgent, essential. Swift but titanic. A hammerstrike of numbing fire.

The heat in his mind and body faded. Their penis was limp on their belly and already shrinking back toward their sheath. Horse guessed they were more like animals than they thought. With luck, they'd be able to go again real soon. That was how animals worked right?

Crow sounded almost demure. "We may need to prioritize finding a body of water nearby. To clean."

Horse faintly agreed. He was busy reliving the fierce sensations. God, he felt like that was what he'd been born for. The other heads were discussing their next move. He'd join in soon. Flying had to happen next. It was going to be amazing. Then they could take off to the wilderness. Maybe while Snake was blowing them. He owed Snake one after what he'd done for them, so Horse would be sure to help allay any fears that Snake rose. What a trooper.

Joined yet apart. A single human mind split into four fragments. A shared chimeric body of beasts. It was going to be a beautiful mess.