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"Ah, love, let us be true

To one another! for the world, which seems

To lie before us like a land of dreams,

So various, so beautiful, so new,

Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,

Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;

And we are here as on a darkling plain

Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,

Where ignorant armies clash by night."

--Matthew Arnold, Dove Beach

It was the day after Mark and Candice found out they weren't going to be turned into a fine red mist by flying death robots. They had been traveling under the cover of night, slowly making their way to the location of what they hoped wasn't a cult. They hoped to arrive the following morning and decided, just as the sun was cresting, to spend the rest of the daylight hours in the shade of a grove atop a small mountain.

Candice's six wings sent leaves and small birds scurrying in every direction as they landed atop a decently sized hillock overlooking a few acres of untouched woodland. She set Mark down in front of her and leaned back to stretch her back, unfurling her wings and stretching her tentacles, an apex hypercarnivore flexing in the way a household cat would wake up from a summer nap. The exertion of flight never seemed to be much of a concern for her, but she had been flying for hours and carrying along her husband and their small box of various nicknacks that hinted at the fact that they at one point probably shopped at Target, paid their taxes, and had some semblance of a normal human existence.

Husband. She smiled. She still hadn't gotten used to that. She leaned forward as if examining her hooves, tapping dirt from the black keratin while stretching her legs and lower back.

"Doing okay?" Mark asked. It was hard to hear her while Candice was flying so they usually stayed fairly silent, with his wife only occasionally pointing out interesting objects or scenery while Mark pretended he could see them. Look, a cute barn. Look, who abandons an old car in the middle of a forest? Look, that lake is pretty, and maybe it would make a nice place to submerge underwater for the remainder of our lives. Candice had seemed particularly silent for the past several hours, not even faking a laugh when Mark said something completely humorless. "Tired?" He inquired. "Let's lay down for a minute, maybe catch a nap. We're still making plenty of time."

"No," Candice replied. She wiped a film of slime from her forehead as if it were a bit of sweat built up from an early morning jog. "It's fine." The finality of the statement indicated to Mark that she was not interested in small talk.

Mark had discovered long ago that no words in the English language signified that it was not fine like "it's fine." He decided to give her a minute to work through whatever was running through her mind.

"I'm hungry," she finally said. "I know--surprise, surprise, I'm hungry." She stretched her wings again, unfurling a wingspan that surpassed any ancient flying reptile. Her numerous leonine eyes scanned the forest below like a predator searching for prey. Which I am, she thought sadly. "I should try to catch something before the sun is all the way up. Deer usually are harder to catch in daylight. Is deer okay for the fifteenth time in a row, or should I try to catch something else?"

Mark decided to switch gears to try to cheer her up. "Nah, no deer today. I'm sick of it. How about IHOP? Or Waffle House? One of those shitty 24 hour breakfast joints that we'd normally only find ourselves in at three in the morning drunk off our asses. You want a Grand Slam? Or is that Denny's?"

She gave no indication that she heard him. Probably because she hadn't.

Mark touched his wife on the side. The motion must have startled her a bit, as she gave a little jerk before sighing. "Candice, what's wrong?" His wife turned to face him, blinking her four pairs of eyes in turns. Drool and slime dripped from her leonine-crocodilian mouth across her udders and her tentacles and her hooves and her ... "Oh. Right. Sorry. Stupid question." She still hadn't gotten over her horrible transformation. How could she have? The way they joked back and forth sometimes led Mark to believe she was slowly getting over the trauma, but he should know better. This would take time, support, and probably copious amounts of vodka. Mark reached for her paw and was happy when she let him take it. "Maybe we just skip breakfast then? Want to just go talk for a minute? There's a clearing over there that looks really pretty."

Candice purposefully looked away from Mark, still unwilling to take her eyes off of the forest below. She whispered the word "Hungry" before taking a few steps away and stretching her wings to take off, her hooves leaving prints in the brown soil. "Deer is okay?" she asked again, as if she hadn't asked the same thing earlier. The last question was formed around a sob. This was one of her bad days.

Mark sighed. "Yeah, sweetheart. Deer is okay." He prepared to say something else but she was gone before he could even think of anything to add. He saw her glide elegantly across the sky, dipping down into the canopy below with the grace of an eagle, the strength of a serpent, and the depression the depths of which only one particular animal seemed capable of. It was still too early and the terrain too remote for them to worry about being spotted, but Mark was a natural worrier. He thought he could hear the noise of some large mammal crying out; he hoped it was a deer and not his wife.

Now that she was gone, Mark hurried back to their supply box, frantically searching for a few items. He hoped she didn't suspect what he was about to do. He'd had the silly idea hours ago while they were flying over a particularly boring rural neighborhood. It was surely stupid, but was hopefully the type of stupid that she'd find endearing and not offensive. He just wanted to make her happy. It was his chief concern, as it had been for days now, and it was a task he was very diligent in trying to do. When he had extracted a few choice items he threw them to the side before running further into the grove of trees like a madman escaping an asylum. The items he needed from the box were the easy part. The items he needed from the environment would take a little longer and probably not a small amount of luck. Time was against him, but he knew that it would be worth it when she got back and saw what he'd set up. Hopefully. Maybe. This wouldn't be another soggy, frozen bag of tater-tots scenario. He was going to fucking crush it this time.

---

Candice knew something was off when she descended towards the grove. The ratty, now-slimy blanket they'd liberated from some rich boomer family was spread out into a square in one particular clearing like a helicopter landing platform. Faint traces of smoke were billowing from just next to the blanket, though thankfully there was very little chance of it being seen. Still, it wasn't like Mark to just make a fire screaming "we are here" for no reason. "What the fuck is he doing now?" she mumbled to herself. She landed next to the blanket, a little less gracefully than she had intended since she needed to stop suddenly, both because of the smaller than expected landing space and also not wanting to land on what was obviously a purposefully spread out blanket.

She looked all around, which only took a slight turn of her head given her expanded cone of vision. "Mark?" Where the hell was he? She deposited the remains of her kill on a small tarp they had stolen from a large garden on the way over. She had already dressed the carcass before flying back to the campsite. Mark wasn't a fan of doing it himself nor of watching her do it. Also, she preferred to munch on the internal organs while he wasn't around. She always felt self-conscious around him while eating, especially when the meat was raw, slathering and drooling while she gobbled up the wet, bloody flesh like a ...

"Like a monster," she whispered. She hated feeling like this but didn't have any choice in the matter. Other than Mark, disgust with her own body was her only other companion. She looked up from the skinned, pinkish-white decapitated remains of the unfortunate deer to the center of the blanket, wherein lay what she assumed was some sort of attempt at a wreath of flowers, although most of them could more accurately be labeled as weeds. "Mark, what in God's green fuck are you doing now?"

She heard him clearing his voice and was for a moment genuinely surprised she hadn't sensed him until just now. He gave an exaggerated bow and motioned towards the blanket. "Madam, your table is ready."

Her jaw dropped and she had to force her tongue to reel itself several feet back into her maw. She suppressed a grin. It wasn't a good day for grinning, but there it was. "At least you didn't try that with a French accent. What the hell is this?"

Mark paused his antics, glancing up at her from where he was still bowed. "I ... thought I did. That wasn't a French accent?" He smiled and she was forced to giggle. "Tonight--or today, I guess--I'll be presenting you with a three course meal, the finest dining experience in all of this ..." He motioned towards the surrounding grove. "... hill ... thing ..."

She couldn't help laughing. "Ooooo-kay. Sure. And what culinary delights will you be astonishing me with during this most lavish of banquets?"

"Our first serving, my dear, is ... voila!" Here he held aloft several packets of saltine crackers, some of which they'd already nibbled on. "Grown from the very finest cracker-crops in the world, prepared by the expert chefs at Kraft ... or whoever ... and hand-delivered to your table."

Her laughter grew much louder now, emanating from her larger frame and causing her udders to wobble a bit. There was a pain in her belly, her body not used to laughter since she had been turned into a freak. "And I'm guessing the second course of this delightful gastronomic exercise is going to be the deer that I just caught."

"Not at all!" He lifted his other hand and presented a few packets of salt and pepper that they hadn't really found much of a use for yet. "Our second course is the finest venison--which, yes, you caught--mixed with specially selected herbs and spices so delightful that they'd make a vaguely racist Kentucky colonel faint from amazement." Here he held aloft a few entirely ordinary, serving-sized salt and pepper packs.

"Oh, bravo!" She tried to give a little clap, but the effect was lessened by the soft pads on her paws and her overabundance of slime, the resulting applause just producing a sort of squishing sound. "And what shall we have for dessert, Chef Ramsay?"

"Why, only the finest, most decadent treats in all the land!" He evidently realized that unlike her he only possessed two hands and had used them both already in concealing the crackers and salt. "That being ... those granola things you like ... over there." He stood upright, his arms drooping to his side, an expression bordering embarrassment on his face. "Can this joke be over now? I'd like to get started cooking."

She beamed. She loved this fucking idiot. "I'm not so sure that's a great idea." She motioned with a mantis claw towards the small fire he'd set up. He was surprisingly good at starting campfires for someone who used to have trouble believing there was a world outside of his own laboratory. "The cooking, I mean, not the joke. That can be over, yes."

"Hey!" he mock-whined. "I'm a good cook! Three course fucking meal, remember?"

She lightly bit her bottom lip with her shark teeth in a gesture she hoped was more cute than intimidating.

"I'm an ..." He paused. "... okay cook?"

Her only response was to cock her head slightly to the side.

"I'm an ... okay-ISH cook?"

"I'd say okay-ish is an adjective that might apply. Or apply-ish." She glanced away for a moment before continuing, as an unwelcome thought again made its presence known. "As long as you're feeding a certain someone who is capable of eating raw meat then I'd say you're cooking is downright ... um, edible."

Mark leaned over the deer meat, pretending to be hurt as he prepared to move it over to the fire. His only response was, "Eat your fucking crackers."

---

Dinner was extraordinarily meh, but strangely wonderful because of the thought behind it. Candice thought the plain salt and pepper didn't accentuate the burnt to a blackened crust meat. She thought the taste of raw meat was quite a bit better, although it inwardly hurt her to even think of such a thing. She had to force herself to eat slowly, not wanting to finish before Mark. Usually she would just swallow her portion whole whether it was incinerated or not, but she knew Mark had planned this ... whatever it was ... and didn't want to ruin whatever mood they might be attempting to simulate by gobbling her mood like a jungle predator. It was technically a date, and she appreciated the gesture a good deal more than the food.

Candice allowed herself a final bite when she saw Mark finish his, slowly crunching the bone in her maw as quietly as possible. "How was it?" he asked. "Every bit as good as the Spaghetti Factory?"

Candice wiped her lips clean with her long, stringy tongue, then gave a smile that she hoped was polite despite being filled with close to eighty shark teeth. "It was ... surprisingly ... edible!"

Mark pretended to be hurt, but couldn't help but smile. "That bad, huh?"

"No no no, not at all, no. I'd even go so far as to say it was ... mildly palatable! Digestible, even! I probably won't die from food poisoning. That's a plus."

He threw a bone in her direction and she had to resist the urge to snap it out of midair. "You're a terrible liar. Always were. I burnt the fuck out of it."

She nodded in acquiescence. "You burnt the fuck out of it." She quickly added, "But it was the thought that counts. My tail would be wagging if my tail could wag." She looked back at her serpent's tail where it lay coiled behind her, trailing away before encircling this dear, goofy man. She tried to quickly wag it back and forth like a dog but it just didn't seem to work that way before turning back to him. "Only thing that would've made it better was tater tots."

"Urgh," he groaned. "I don't see how you can eat those foul things."

"Hey!" Candice scooped up a napkin with a tentacle, playfully tossing it in his general direction, although it didn't fly very far as it was weighed down by slime. Like everything you touch, she thought. "'Those foul things' helped me through a very rough spot in my life. I wouldn't be here today without tater tots." She slithered a bit closer to him on the blanket, leaning over for a kiss. "Just maybe take it out of the fire a bit earlier next time?"

Mark leaned in but stopped before their lips touched. "Hey, nobody's perfect."

"Are you saying I'm perfect?" She closed all of her eyes as they kissed, his lips fumbling awkwardly to kiss her as if she didn't have an alligator-like snout. She felt his mouth open with the fur on her lips and ever so slightly opened hers a little. They both laughed when she tried to slip her tongue past his lips only to remember that her tongue was roughly the size of his entire throat. She reached out to place a paw on his chest and to try again when she felt him pull away and look in the other direction.

Candice's eyes slowly found their way to the paw she had intended to touch him with. Of course he pulled away. He doesn't want to kiss the freak any more than he has to. Who would? Even now he was getting to his feet, probably to make any excuse not to make love with her. Again. She couldn't blame him. "I guess I'll just," she paused, glancing about for something to busy herself with. "Help to fold up the blanket or ... something."

"Fuck the blanket," Mark replied. He extended his hand to help her to her hooves, although he would have had an easier time doing the same to a Volkswagen given her larger size. "Part two of the surprise is over there." He motioned in the direction he had looked before.

"Surprise?" she asked. She raised an eyebrow, or at least attempted to. She wasn't sure if her face worked that way now. She also wasn't sure if lions had eyebrows. "Is that what this was?"

He motioned exaggeratedly in the direction he was trying to get her to follow. "Part two. Surprise. Over there. Come on."

Candice rose to her hooves, thankful she had finally gotten used to the motion without having to flap her wings to maintain her balance. She lifted her hooves just slightly off the ground and slithered along her tail as she took his hand in one of her tentacles, wrapping around it with a squelching sound as he led her over a small rise to a clearing. She had spotted it as she was returning from making her kill and was confused as to why Mark hadn't chosen that spot to unfold the blanket. It was much roomier and the way the sun shone through the leaves was very peaceful. Now that she saw what Mark had done to the grove her confusion multiplied exponentially.

"Your five star suite is ready, madam."

"What did you do, you funny little man?" A circle of flowers enclosed a large rock in the middle of the clearing. There were a few white wildflowers, fewer still purple ones, and an overabundance of daffodils, dandelions, and other weeds. It was strangely pretty except for one small problem. "Mark, this is cute and all, but you know I'm like deathly allergic to those things, right?"

"No you aren't."

Candice blinked. "Um, yes? I am? And you know this?"

"No you aren't." Mark's face was expressionless, as if he were waiting on her to realize something.

"But I ... Oh. Right." She realized he was right. "I guess I'm not allergic to much of anything anymore." She picked one up with a tentacle and smiled as she held it to her nose. "You know, they actually don't smell that bad now that they aren't causing my esophagus to violently swell. Kind of like ..." She sniffed. "Wait ... Mark, did you rub this one in deodorant?"

Mark smiled triumphantly. "I thought you wouldn't like the smell, and you like the smell of my Old Spice, so I thought it would ... That was weird, wasn't it?"

A range of emotions passed across Candice's bestial features before finally settling on bold incredulity. "Yyyyyyeah, babe. That was weird as fuck." She muttered under her breath, intentionally loud enough for him to hear her say, "Been together for years and I still don't know how the fuck you're brain works most days." She shook her head in wonder at the thought process of the man and failed to notice him stepping closer until she felt him slide a Terry Crews-approved flower behind her ear. She purred at the gesture, although she knew it couldn't make her look any less like a monster. He was a weirdo, but he was her weirdo.

He stepped away, inspecting the flower like he was looking at the features on a new TV. "My brain doesn't work most days, and that's how I like it. It looks cute."

She rubbed the back of her head with a paw, her fingers--or what passed for fingers--awkwardly scratching the crocodilian ridges that trailed down her back. "No, it doesn't ... But thank you. You goof."

"I think madam may be failing to take notice of the luxurious king-sized rock at the center of your Disney woodland paradise."

"Woo-hoo, lover." She again inhaled the pretty little weed she was holding. "You found a rock. In a forest with rocks. Good job."

Mark's arms flopped to his side. "So hard to please these days! I mean, it's not a box but it should do, right?"

"Not a box? Why would it be--" She gasped. Oh shit, she thought. "Oh shit," she said. "A box. Right. Are you ... sure? You're ready for that?"

He stepped closer, pulling his stolen Led Zeppelin shirt over his head before placing his hands on her hips. "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

Candice dropped the daffodil, watching as it spiraled to the ground to land next to her hoof. "In that case ... yes, doctor." She smiled. "I think these luxurious arrangements will do just fine." She pulled him in closer, looking into the eyes of this strange and wonderful human being.

"You know, this whole time in lieu of a box I probably could've just stood on your tail. It's long enough that you could lift it out of the way and still give me ... y'know ... the necessary elevation?" He patted her hips, nearly at his eye level, to reinforce their size difference which had always been a hindrance whenever they tried to be intimate. When she stood upright his head now came about eye level to her waist.

Candice leaned forward and licked the side of his face, tasting the salt, sweat, and dirt that tasted so strangely pleasant to her now. "And I could probably throw you off this mountain."

His hands trailed higher, grazing lightly across her lower pair of breasts. She inhaled sharply and leaned against his palm. It felt so good to be touched there by him. "It probably wouldn't even hurt," he whispered.

She hissed as his hands moved higher, stopping at her middle pair of breasts and lingering there a moment, twisting her teats gently in a way he knew she loved back when she wasn't a monster. "Let me stand on YOUR tail ... Let's see how much you like it."

Her twin horse cocks were beginning to poke out of her sheathe. She tried to shift them away, trying not to draw any attention to them just yet. She was still very embarrassed about the recent additions to her genital region. Instead she felt his other hand touch the head of one of her dicks, gently rubbing the underside in a way that made her knees shake. "That's a good point and well made."

Rather than move away from him, she pressed her cock into his hand, sighing happily when he didn't pull away. Its skin, black and mottled here and there with pink, stretched as he softly trailed his fingers up and down, up and down, up and down. "Was this all just an elaborate ruse to get into my pants, Doctor Clark? How very unprofessional of you. And after all that workplace ethics training."

He tried to cup one of her balls in the palm of his hand. It was much too large for that, but the way his hand, covered in her own slime, slid across the smooth skin drove her wild. "Your size 17 pants, you mean?"

Both of her cocks finished growing to their full length of around two feet, bobbing painfully in the warm spring air. "Good boy," she whispered, then hissed and growled as she felt both of his hands on her topmost dick. "Very good boy." Mark started to slowly move his hands up and down, her mucus providing natural lubrication. She moaned, her four pairs of eyes fluttering. She thought he'd never want to touch this particular part of her new body, and it was the part of her anatomy she'd most needed to feel him touch. Or rather the second most, she thought, as she felt her cunt begin to drip and twitch.

"I'm entitled to get into my wife's pants," he whispered into her round ears. "It's a special occasion, after all."

God, she fucking loved hearing him call her his wife. "What's--OH!" She shuddered as he tightened his grip and rubbed her a little faster. "What's the special occasion? We're joining a cult tomorrow?"

Mark dropped to his knees. "No, you goof. It's our first honeymoon." Candice's eyes flitted open as she felt her heart begin to swell faster than another part of her strange body. She wanted to thank him for the words, but before she could she felt his lips upon the end of one of her cocks and both of her hands on the second and then all rational thought became temporarily impossible. "Hopefully next year's will be nicer."

She felt eight tears forming as she said, "This first one is nicer than anything I could've hoped for." As he continued jerking and sucking her off, she lightly pressed one paw onto the side of his face, smiling at the feel of the thick pads rubbing against several days worth of stubble. She was very careful to keep her claws sheathed, although she smiled at the thought of giving him a shave he desperately needed. Her other paw slowly slid up her torso, flicking two teats hard, her hands lingering for just a moment on each before she traced the outside swell of her udders. Her paw made contact with one of her long teats just as he playfully nibbled at the wide flare at the end of her rod. She made a mewling noise followed by a low growl.

"Too rough?" he asked. "I don't have a lot of experience with doing ... this."

She shook her head, mindful to try to prevent her drool from landing on his head. "No. A little. Just wasn't expecting it." She tried tugging at her teats, her tentacles coiling around her hands as she tried to gain some sort of purchase. She knew she wasn't going to be able to, but the feeling was too good to stop. Normally there was a sort of hopeless neediness whenever she tried to milk herself, but with her lover attending to her needs she was happy to give into the rising levels of pleasure, knowing that a release would be around the corner. She felt one of his hands leave her second cock and attempt to cup one of her cantaloupe-sized testicles. It was a futile effort, but as she felt the engagement ring--her engagement ring--upon his pinkie rub against the lightly furred skin she felt her sack tighten against her crotch. "Don't think I'll be able to hold it too much longer."

In response he sped up his jerking. "Then don't."

Her breaths were coming in faster and faster. "You may want to move."

He replied with a simple, "No."

She mewled, roared, hissed, whined, lowed, whinnied, mooed, and screeched as she came, hosing Mark from head to toe in yellow-white cum. He fell backwards onto his ass, either from the force of her ejaculation or simply because he lost his balance. She continued coming for nearly ten seconds from both cocks, an exquisitely painful sensation dwelling behind her balls as she was finally given some relief for the first time since they had escaped the underground prison. Her tongue hung from her lips, drool and slime dripping from her sharp teeth as she tried to focus her swirling vision.

Finally she was able to direct her attention to her husband, although she had to wait until her vision cleared enough that his expression would be visible. She was afraid that he'd be repulsed--who wouldn't be, the inconveniently sapient part of her mind asked--in being drenched in her cum. Instead, his first reaction was, "Fuck. Guess we'll need to wash these pants again."

She started to reply but apparently her body felt the proper response was to fall forwards onto the ground, her tentacles thankfully subconsciously rolling her onto her sides as she fell. She smiled at his laugh, her sharp teeth highlighting a happy feral grin as her drooping tongue felt the stinging taste of grass.

"I take it the doctor was pleased with the results of the experiment?" he asked as he attempted to scoop ejaculate from his chest.

She tried to summon up the energy to nod, her slurred words barely decipherable. "Doctor ish pleash." She reached up for him, intending to draw him in for a hug, relishing the strange afterglow in a way that she was slightly ashamed to having enjoyed more than any previous one. This freak body had a few advantages over her former one. Instead of laying next to her, he simply took her paw but planted his feet firm to keep from sinking to the ground. She tugged him gently, mewling in faux frustration at being denied cuddle time. "C'mere. Cuddles."

He smiled again, ignoring her request and keeping his footing.

"Cuddles?" she repeated, this time as a question. She had been afraid that she'd never want to be intimate with her again. Now that was no longer in question, but perhaps he needed a little time to digest just how freakish his sexual partner had become.

His response was to slip his thumbs behind the waistband of his pants and tug them down, his wonderfully average cock bobbing as he slipped them off of his legs one at a time. Some part of him still found her attractive then. She'd never been so happy to see a half-erect penis. "Cuddles come after we're done," he finally answered. "Are we done?"

One of her tentacles slithered around his leg, trapping his ankle. "We are not done, no." He gave a little "meep" as she pulled his legs out from under him, laughing cruelly as she caught his fall with her other tentacle, his neon green flip flops becoming casualties to this newest strange venture. She lowered him to his back, then pushed herself upright with her elbow before sliding onto her stomach, her large udders covering him from the middle of his thighs to his knees. Her slimy tongue licked her black lips before simply dangling. She gave a smile that had been repeated countless times over the past 400 million years, usually the last thing to be seen by an unfortunate 280 lbs ocean mammal. "I've been wanting to do this ever since I got turned into a ... a whatever-the-fuck."

Mark recovered from his sudden fall. "Waiting for what?"

"This," she replied as she licked the tip of his cock. The skin tasted of sweat and salt. She'd never found the act nor the taste particularly appealing, but just then she couldn't imagine anything tasting better. He hissed in appreciation, his eyes closing as he felt her tongue slither around his balls up to the base of his cock. She smiled and laughed; she always loved how cute he looked whenever she went down on him.

His eyes opened suddenly and a look of genuine worry passed over his features. "Uh, should we be ... doing this?"

"Yes," she replied as a string of drool left her lips and dropped into his pubic hair. "Yes, we should most definitely be doing this." She retracted her tongue for a moment, relishing the groan of pleasure she received from the motion. "Since when do you have objections about me doing this?"

He stared into her maw. "Um, just since ... those?" He pointed towards the four rows of six inch long sharp teeth.

She giggled as she stuck her tongue back out, this time in his general direction in a fake rude gesture. "I wouldn't worry too much about those." She mewled happily as her long tongue completely enveloped his cock from base to head before drawing him into her mouth, shielding his sensitive prick from her dagger-like teeth.

He instinctively thrust forward, his worries apparently evaporating as he incoherently answered, "Oooooo-kay, yeah, that's a ... yeah."

She twisted her tongue, gently writhing across his skin like a coiling serpent. His eyes briefly opened, gazing up at the sun shining through the leaves of the canopy above before closing again. She opened her mouth just wide enough to attempt to ask him if he was still worried, although the words came out as, "Till worrahd?" He gave a quick shake of his head and she replied "Gud" as she closed her lips again. His fingers ran through her tangled mane in a way that caused her to loudly purr, adding in a new sensation that he must have liked as it caused him to tremble a bit. One tentacle slithered across his chest to touch his cheek while another slid between her udders, down two other pairs of breasts before winding around her still-erect cocks to caress her swollen pussy.

He must have been approaching his climax when he grabbed at her horns. "Getting close, hun." It was a warning she'd heard before just before he ejaculated. She'd never been one for swallowing before, although she felt herself strangely attracted to the idea now. Still she opened her mouth and raised her head off his crotch after unwrapping her tongue from around him.

"No, sir," she answered. "Not yet. Have other plans for you. And that." She nodded towards his crotch. "And that rock." She rose to her hooves before helping him up, leading him by the hand with a slimy tentacle to the stone in question. She pulled him in for a kiss before turning around and lowering herself to all fours beside the rock, moving her massive tail out of the way as best she could. Immediately her demeanor shifted into a desperate tone, almost bordering on submissiveness. Being in this position felt so right. She was going to be mounted, fucked like a mare, a lioness, a cow.

Her tentacle wrapped around him, pressing him by his ass closer to her. But instead of allowing himself to be drawn towards her needy cunt he slapped her tentacle perhaps a little harder than he meant and said simply, "No."

Her response was a loud growl and a bearing of fangs at the audacity of the weak little male to refuse her need. She pushed him again closer again, and again was answered by another slap, this time hard enough to actually force the slimy appendage away.

"No," he repeated, this time much louder. "I'm doing everything today. Got it?" There was definitely a silent "If that's okay?" behind his eyes, coupled with a conspiratorial grin that appeared on his face for just a minute. He was taking charge and she was happy enough for him to do so, especially if he was as eager to please her as he seemed. He stepped closer, placing his head between his leg, lightly tracing the thick muscles of her equine legs before he leaned closer.

When she felt his breath on her pussy it actually winked, her golf ball sized clit momentarily flexing into the open air. She squirmed nervously. "Mark. No."

He leaned away to look at her face. "What? Why?"

Genuine worry appeared in four sets of feline eyes. "It's ... gross back there. My labia moves on its own and my asshole is like a donut and it's all animal-y and it's gross and it smells and it's gross and--"

He chuckled as he leaned back in. "Candice. Baby. Shut the fuck up. This is about you, remember? All of you."

She whined and bit her lip as she looked away. She weirdly remembered her first trip to the gynecologist when she was similarly embarrassed, although this was definitely worse. She was worried, both at expecting to hear him gag at the smell and the fear that this just wouldn't feel right anymore. She'd always loved receiving oral, and Mark was thankfully quite adept in that regard, knowing just what she liked and when she liked it. But everything was so different now.

Again she felt his breath on her lips and again the damned thing winked, causing her to grimace in embarrassment. Mark evidently sensed her apprehension but was damnably determined. She felt his hands on her waist and his lips gently kiss the area on the inside of her leg, slowly working his way closer to her cunt. By the time she felt his lips lightly kiss her labia she was mewling like a kitten, shaking in both nervousness and at the sensations coming from her rear and deep inside her belly, an almost painful need to be filled. His tongue lightly traced her from the lower part of her lips all the way up to just underneath her equine asshole, pausing every now and then when her cunt winked at him, the motion coming more and more frequently as he continued.

"Mark," she whined, although it was more to simply say his name than to ask him to do anything. His fingers rubbed at her sopping wet cunt as the damned thing chose to remain open for a long moment. He laughed as it touched the sides of his face, trying in vain to pull something--anything--inside. She squealed as he tweaked the teats just above her pussy, alternating back and forth between gently twisting them and cupping her balls. Her mewls reached a higher pitch as she felt his lips envelop her clit as he tried to pull the entire thing into his mouth. Her eyes became wide, frantic, glancing back and forth all around her as if anticipating the attack of some predator. He continued sucking as he pressed two fingers inside, a practiced motion he had become very good at over the years, although after her recent change that simply wasn't going to be good enough. He placed three, then four fingers inside and slid them closer to her g-spot before something altogether strange occurred. Her pussy responded to his gentle touch by violently jerking his entire arm inside. She roared out as she felt his elbow pass just beyond her lips, his fingers writhing in surprise in a way that drove her insane. She continued roaring, clawing at the dirt as she tore clumps of grass and roots away in a frenzy while stomping her left hoof onto the ground. The sensation was just too much and for a moment Candice ceased to exist, replaced instead with a bestial monster with no thought in its mind other than the feeling she could barely comprehend. "Mark!" she screamed.

"Oh fuck!" was his response. He tried to extricate his arm, careful to move his fingers as little as possible as he mistook the noises she was making as a sound of distress. "Candice, shit! I'm sorry! Fuck, did that hurt?"

"No!" she screamed back at him. "Fingers! Keep moving! Keep moving fingers! Please!"

"Oh! Right." Now reassured that she was not in pain, he returned to pleasing her as well as he could despite having little frame of reference to what he was doing. It would take time to relearn what felt good and what didn't, but she was greatly looking forward to figuring it out. She began sobbing a little, overcome with just how many emotions were running through her mind, meekly nodding her head when he again asked if she was okay. Finally after what felt like hours and with her heart beating so rapidly she was afraid it would burst she came. Neighs, screeches, and hisses merged together into one horrible roaring voice as her vision went white. She was coming from both her male and female aspects, three climaxes mixing together into one glorious, horrid, frantic sensation. It wasn't enough.

"Out!" she screamed. "Out! Please!" She felt Mark extract his arm as her muscles unclenched, her wetness dripping off of him from hand to elbow. She vaguely heard him mention something about it being a good thing he didn't have a watch. She looked back at him, again screaming out "No!"

"Candice, baby," Mark answered patiently. "What? What is it? Are you still okay? What now?"

Her legs trembled as she unsuccessfully tried to stabilize herself with her tentacles. Her ass was quivering and it was all she could do to keep her trail from thrashing about wildly for fear of injuring him. Another orgasm was approaching, probably the second of many to come, and before it did she wanted one very specific thing. "Inside! Now, please, inside!" It was all she could do to get the words out as her cunt again began to open wide to receive him.

Mark nodded and moved to step onto the rock, whispering a quick "Thanks, buddy" to the stone just before he slipped on the wetness covering it and threatened to fall. The rock didn't respond, bearing his weight stoically. He stabilized himself by placing his hand just above her ass as she tried to move her tail out of the way as much as she could. He nervously looked down at her winking cunt before asking, "Is this even going to feel good? You're so big down here."

"Yes!" she screamed, both to answer him and in the throes of ecstasy. "Inside! Now! Fucker!" Her last word came out as an insult, impatient as she was to feel him inside her.

He nodded and slipped inside, her cunt pulling him as far as it could, demanding in vain to be filled completely. Candice couldn't care less. The feel of her love's member entering her even a little bit was the most glorious thing she'd ever felt as her second orgasm stretched into a third, a fourth, and past the point where numbers lost all meaning. When they finally stopped, she raised her head, gagging as thick slime connected her to the ground from where she had lay so long. She squealed as she felt him slip from her before they both fell back to the ground. Candice rolled onto her back and pushed herself towards him slowly, using her tail to slither like a snake until she was laying next to him. They kissed for one short second before she shuddered again, afterquakes still pouring through her body. She lifted him and coiled her tail around the pair of them, laying both of them on top of it in a strange embrace before resuming the kiss.

"Love yooo," she slurred simply. "Sssso fuggin mush. Lugg you." She held him tight, alternating between kissing him and placing the bottom of her snout atop his head.

"Love you, too," he replied, slowly catching his breath. "I'm guessing that went okay?"

Candice tried to think of something snarky to say, but could only meekly nod and reply, "Yes. Okay. Okay. Yes."

It took another few minutes, but eventually the mind that had earned Candice a doctorate in biology finally seemed to return. "We're going to do that. More. Like, a lot more. Like, a lot lot lot more. Okay?"

"Absolutely," he replied, still smiling at her borderline deliriousness.

"Okie-dokie good. Good." Finally she was lucid enough to release him slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. "Was so worried you wouldn't want to."

"Of course I did. It's, I mean ... You're kinda intimidating now. The new you."

She hugged him tight again. "The new me is kinda snarly and gross and roars a lot. I just wasn't sure you'd ever want to."

"I want to," he answered. "I would like to have sex with my wife, yes. My snarly roaring wife who is not gross. Still have to figure out what feels good and all. I think I can do better next time."

"Jesus Christ!" she whispered. "If next time is better you'll have to take me to the hospital. Or vet, or whatever. Jee-sus"

They lay together quietly for a time, no words necessary, merely happy to be in each other's arms. Eventually Candice began to shift back and forth, squirming as if she was uncomfortable. "Babe?" she asked

"Yep?" he answered.

"I need to be milked. Like sooner rather than later. Sorry."

"Not a problem." He moved to stand and she released him. He climbed to his feet and motioned for her to lean forward to tend to what had become a twice daily ritual between them.

She rose to a sitting position, using her tail to push her forward a bit so that Mark could get to her udders more easily. She smiled shyly as he reached for the first teat; she was still a little embarrassed at this arrangement. She tried to break the tension she was feeling by saying "Moo?" in a very human voice, then cringed inwardly at how good the word, even in jest, made her feel.

The evening drew to a close after a milking session followed by once again making love. True to his word, Mark worked to make the second round better than the first and succeeded quite spectacularly. Candice was equal parts disappointed and elated at keeping her animal mind from taking over, patiently guiding him through the exploration of her strange new body. They held each other afterward, although Mark had to slip away for a moment to retrieve their blanket from their strange picnic when the both of them started to become a little chilly.

Candice began to fall asleep in Mark's arms, purring as his fingers combed through her mane, trying to get a few tangles out. She had dozed for perhaps a moment before Mark inadvertently woke her by asking if she were awake.

"Yeah, mm'wake," she half-lied. "What's up?"

"We're still sure we're doing this? Tonight, I mean. We should be at the cult-church-thing before dawn tomorrow." He paused, then added, "If we both still think that's a good idea."

She nodded, already starting to fall asleep again. "If they're too weird, I'll just eat them." She gestured to herself by patting her chest before adding, "Big and scary. Remember?"

"Fair enough," he agreed. "Still want to leave just after dusk? We could stay here another day. Do another picnic?"

She giggled, the most human noise she had made in a while. "No more picnics. You're out of Old Spice anyway. Goof. It's a nice spot, though. We'll come back here. Every year. Or at least for the second honeymoon."

"Deal." He kissed her on her forehead as she resumed purring.

"Still don't like waking up without my cell phone. How is anyone supposed to get up without blaring thrash metal?"

"Actually," he replied, "taking that out of the equation was probably the one good thing that evil company ever did."

Her response was to lick his face, sliming him as thoroughly as possible as he feebly protested. When she felt he had been sufficiently slobbered upon, she uttered a quiet, "Deserved that" before the pair of them fell asleep, the happy day's moments melting away into oblivion as they both dreamed of the strange adventures to come.