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Two Weeks - 10 A New Day

Alan and Mark stepped out of the artificially lit room the former fox had slept, and onto the grounds of The Garden, as the rabbit's uncle had put it. Above them, covering a third of the sky to their left hung the incredible visage of a massive gas giant. From this distance, even through the purple tinted atmosphere, one could see countless swirling storms raging across its face. They formed into huge stripes that swept right past the curvature of the planet. The coloration reminded him somewhat of Jupiter, though without the distinct red spot. It gave the area an odd ambient glow, and washed out their shadows.

The rabbit's stark white fur stood in sharp contrast to the black hide of the wyvern that shambled along beside him. As he moved, tiny scales glinted faintly in the light with a sheen from a distant sun that lit from above. Mark felt his eyes contract as the brighter daylight forced him to squint. The physical changes to them; now coppery pools, had long since finished. His mind, though was still playing catch-up. All the strange new signals his body gave off were so much to get used to. The spectra he saw had expanded. Color was richer, deeper, more vibrant. When he looked at Alan, he saw more than just white fur, he saw the heat that saturated his clothing and pelt, as well as an ultraviolet glow that accented each hair.

His loss of speech did not really hit the wyvern until that moment. Since he'd arrived, the only person around to talk with was that twisted doctor, and to him he had nothing to say. In private he'd tried to speak, but his ability to do so was long gone. More than anything, it was the loss of the use of his hands that affected him the most. His fingers had elongated a while ago, and acted as structure to the leathery wings that dominated the forward half of his body. Of the few things he had gotten used to was his method of locomotion. The former fox would just let himself get lost in thought, and his body just did what came naturally, shambling forward on hinds and wing-knuckles.

At that particular moment, Mark's mind was on his new company, the hare that he'd had a crush on for a great while now. The fox was on his usual route home out the side of the school when the sight of a rabbit got his attention for the first time. The runner was out on the school's track, in the middle of an all out sprint, clad in just a pair of loose shorts, his stark white fur a brilliant contrast to the dark redwoods beyond the field. When he knew there to be a meet, he would always stick around just to watch. He thanked the fates when the boy of his dreams, two years his junior, was placed in the same class as him for English. Through the entire year, he never built up the nerve to actually speak with him. He'd rehearsed what he might say dozens of times over, and now here he was, alone with Alan, without a voice.

"So Fox, which way first?" Alan's voice broke his reverie, and he snapped open his eyes properly to look to the rabbit. He opened his mouth by reflex to respond, and his stomach spoke for him. A long, echoing gurgle filled his gut and he gazed longingly toward the path that led to Smith, his one and only food supply. The notion of eating something from the grounds had crossed his mind, but he cast it off. Nothing at all smelled appealing, and he had no way to tell if something was edible.

Smith's seed seemed his only option.

"That way it is then!" Alan hopped forward a few paces down the way, before he paused and looked back. When his gaze fell upon Fox, he grinned at the sight. The wyvern's shaft was as hard as ever, tinted black with an impossibly smooth sheen. It coiled about one way and the other, up against his belly, his thigh, and even the air as it sought contact; it was an urge the former fox found difficult to ignore. If he concentrated he could keep it still, but that only made the urge to grind against something even more difficult to ignore.

While the teen was still worried about his uncle at the back of his mind, it was overshadowed twofold, both by his reassurance, and the impossible fact that he stood on the face of another planet. Alan rushed forth to take in the sights, while Mark lumbered along behind, just focused on the single sight before him. He was stunned at the detail his eyes gathered, all of his attention upon the rabbit, lost just watching him bounce from one side of the path to the other and back once again to look at the next odd plant, or to read one of the plaques beside each. The one and only distraction that reached him was an enticing, all too familiar scent upon the wind. Every breath brought more of it to him, the musky aroma of Smith's cum already enough to make him salivate. Even so, it was not enough of a distraction to get the lovestruck teen to pay attention to where they were, up until they crested the final hill.

"What is..." The rabbit's words trailed off as Mark crested the hill beside him. "Is that another wyvern in there?" The former fox stopped for only a moment to look at Alan, before he continued forward toward the bound figure. He was as Fox had seen him for a while now. His entire mass was suspended above the ground, his body enveloped in blue petals and green vines that coiled dozens of times around his chest, shoulders, tail, wings, even down his legs and around his individual toes. His face was enclosed in a violet flower twice the size of his head. He hardly moved, aside from the occasional twitch here and there, as though he were a puppy in the middle of a dream. From between his legs, the wyvern's crimson shaft hung partly hard, with a streamer of white that connected its tip to a puddle on the ground.

A gentle breeze carried with it the powerful aroma of Smith's milked fluids. The sight made Alan's eyes widen in awe, and the scent made his mouth salivate. Something about it just called to him; a feeling that had grown all too familiar for Mark. The wyvern continued on down the path, with his smaller companion close behind. He glanced over to the rabbit while he lumbered forward and caught the most arousing sight. The runner's shorts had tented to a point and pulled the waistband of his loose shorts up along with it. His classmate seemed completely unabashed as a white furred paw slipped down in mid stride and tucked a thumb into the waistband and stretched the elastic forward, freeing himself. It seemed he had pure white fur from head to toe, save a single black circle of fur surrounding the tip of his sheath. From it had emerged an equally black shaft, half free of its home. The rabbit let it snap back and shivered for a brief moment, a smile on his face.

Alan spoke up as they approached, "It is!" He circled around to the side, gawking all the while, though he was wary of the purple-bordered plant. For Mark, this was just lunch. He had given little thought into Smith all this time, since every time his appetite seemed to always overpower all rational thought. How long had he been caught up like this? A fact only aware to the doctor; one month. For a moment sympathy played through his mind, only to be washed away by the reminder that was his shoulder. It had been in pain up until just a day prior. Now the only reminder left was a pair of fading scars, scales discolored and marred.

Again his appetite made its presence known with a nice loud growl, accentuated with a particularly strong rocking about by his young. He had to feed, and of course the crush of his life was not about to miss the show. His crimson mane stood on end as blood flushed under his scales, and at the same time to his shaft with a particularly strong throb. Mark's reluctance was overpowered only by his hunger as his focus shifted to the entrapped wyvern. He craned forward as Alan scooted in from the other side, face to face, Smith's half hard, dripping length between them. The rabbit took the first move, and ventured forth with an inquisitive paw. A single digit settled into the slow, constant trickle of milky goo that dribbled from the red shaft. It coiled slightly and pooled into itself akin to honey, and the warm, musky stuff soaked into his fur readily.

His first reaction was to put it to his nose and smell it. The concentrated aroma made his head spin for a brief moment, and threw him off balance. In his fall onto his rear end, his paw slipped, and smeared the ooze over the end of his muzzle. A thread stretched from it to his fingers as he drew it away, glinting in the light, then snapping in the breeze. On impulse, Alan's tongue darted up and licked over the slimy patch, and his eyes closed in delight, a warm smile spread across his face. Its flavor was on the sweeter side, with a strange metallic tang that clung to his palate.

Another angry growl echoed in Mark's gut, and demanded his attention. He had to eat, and right now. With a rather practiced, though still clumsy motion, he stepped to the side, tucked in his wing, then rolled to the ground, and looked up at Smith. It was a sight he'd grown accustomed to. The bulk of his mass was hidden amongst countless thick vines, and enveloped in huge, thick blue petals. Alan watched the tumbling act, and now looked on at the wyvern below him, who's eyes were fixed upon the trickle of white fluids.

His smooth, scaled muzzle dipped forward, and his tapered tongue lashed out through the flow. The hare's gaze was upon him as his maw parted, and engulfed the partly hard shaft. Immediately a long, deep rumble rose in his chest as the flavor washed over his taste buds. A thirst called to him to drink readily, and he was eager to comply. Smith's length coiled reflexively, and ground itself against the roof of his mouth, though it was brought under control quickly by Mark's tongue, the muscle lashed around it. From above, a muffled growl was heard as the beast's hips shifted and craned and the bonds. Vines creaked as they rubbed against one another, but held fast. Of course, the former fox paid no attention to any of this. All his focus was drawn to gulping down his meal, and the steadily growing euphoria that flowed out through his body from the depths of his gut. So lost was he, that he lost all notion of time.

Of course, Alan was entirely fascinated by the scene. He stood to move around one side, and paused near the violet bulb that enveloped Smith's head. A closer inspection around the seam showed there to be pink goo bonded between the plant and his scales. His neck flexed and shifted occasionally, and gave him the impression that he was swallowing something. As he came round the other side, he got a good view of Mark, his form stretched out in the eerie mix of planet and sunlight. His scales were highlighted in a smooth pattern that shifted subtly as he drank. The mound of his belly was just barely visible, highlighted as a smooth swell.

Feeling adventurous, he stepped around Fox's outstretched wing, and knelt, knee in the dirt, just tucked out of range of the wicked talons on the creature's feet. A paw ventured forth, and a single digit made brief contact with a swipe up along the underside of the black-coated length. His hips arched into the attention, and his shaft jumped, upper half coiling to grasp at the furred finger.

The contact to his shaft pulled Mark from his growing stupor, and threw him for a loop. While the rabbit's muzzle job not even an hour previous felt marvelous, it seemed nothing compared to when Alan's paws both settled upon him, one tucked under, supporting it as the other traced little patterns with the tips of his fingers. Again and again the prehensile tip, about the higher third of the tapered length, coiled around them, but were never able to get any grip due to the incredibly slick, rubbery surface. The hare peered back to Fox's muzzle, to the shaft that filled it, and noted the difference. He surmised that it must have been put there, though how or why he hadn't the foggiest. After a few more sweeps, he wrapped his soft paw against the thick shaft, and allowed his fingers to grasp around it as he dragged up toward the tip.

The effect was immediate.

A loud, rolling, growling moan erupted from Mark's maw, jaw thrown wide in shock. The sensation was a searing pleasure that blasted waves of heat, cold, pleasure, and tingling all throughout his body. Though his eyes were open, he saw naught but stars as his hips moved again of their own volition. His heavy hinds rolled forward, eager for more of that incredible touch. The length of his shaft snaked through the lapine's luxurious fur and forced his paw open once again. The thrust was not only enjoyed by the wyvern though. Alan too let out a soft murr. He'd long had a strong fascination with larger males, and though he'd played around with equines before, even the largest of them all, the zebra at the restaurant, matched what stood before him. He was a true feral beast.

He looked over to the feeding wyvern, who had paused for the moment to see the source of that exquisite feeling, though his muzzle kept close to Smith's shaft, tongue entwined with his tip. Though the monster that stood between his legs was still alien to him, the pleasure that radiated was impossible to deny. When they met gazes a test of wills played out in the blink of an eye, then Mark turned away, black scales flushed. It was not the almost predatory look the rabbit gave him that caused his nervous embarrassment, rather it was from the heavy flexing of muscles within his groin that made his vent wink open and well up slowly with clear fluid, and from the fact that he simply could not stop the steady, slow rocking of his hips. His shaft had a mind of its own, and as Alan allowed it, the slick member coiled around his wrist completely. The beast's heavy pulse, an odd dual rhythm, played heavy against him.

"So, if I'm to understand correctly," as he spoke, his free paw continued to pet over the shaft in his grasp, while the other gripped around the tip and gave the wyvern's scarcely contained thrusting something to push against, "you understand English. That true?" Mark hesitated, still for a moment. The question struck him dumb. Should he let on, or should he just pretend otherwise? Alan could be his only way out of here, but how to say? His panicked string of questions was cut by the hare's voice, "just nod," he demonstrated, "for yes, and if your answer is 'no,' then clearly you don't have to do anything, now do you?" Mark shook his head to answer the question by reflex, and his companion just laughed for a few moments, before he came to a complete halt.

"Wait... wait... You actually ... can ... understand me?" He received a sheepish nod after a few seconds delay. Alan's eyes went wide. "Amazing! I mean, how did you learn? Can you talk?" Mark just looked down, unsure how to answer the barrage of questions, still swallowing down little mouthfuls from a half-hard shaft he could not bring himself to let out of his maw. "Right, no talking with your mouth full," he chuckled, then spoke up. "You can still answer yes or no, right?" Though his head was hazy from the myriad of various chemicals, hormones, and pleasure, he still managed another nod.

"Good." The rabbit accented the word with a little squeeze around the tip of the wyvern's shaft. "Now what to ask, what to ask," his eyes trailed over the shaft in his paws once again as his fingertips traced down toward its base, fascinated with how incredibly smooth and slick the surface was. On a second pass he let his touch glide out to the rim of his cloaca, soft fur just barely grazing the sensitive flesh. This elicited a long and heavy moan as Mark's body went limp momentarily, all his focus pulled to that single point of contact. His head went slack, and lolled down to rest against the soaked soil.

The fact that not a drop emerged from the tip of this wyvern's shaft did not escape his attention, nor did he miss the sight of Smith's length, now free to squirm in the warm breeze. Milky fluids poured constantly from a slit set behind the tip, and every few moments the pressure jumped for an instant and sprayed the stream of musky stuff a ways farther. It too was prehensile, though unlike the clumsy member below, the suspended shaft seemed exceptionally dexterous. In its search for something, anything to writhe against, it curled, it corkscrewed, and even coiled against itself. All the while spurt after spurt of thick, musky fluid flew through the air and coated Fox with more than a dozen thick, sticky ropes; across his chest, his wing, chin and neck, a few jets even went so far as to land upon his mounded stomach, the curve much more subtle with its additional contents.

So surprised by the fountainous display, Alan didn't react until the third hot jet arced over Mark's upturned wing, and splattered across his leg, ankle, and foot. He looked at the jelly-like mess, eyes upon a rope that had fallen across the bridge of his toes. Once again he felt the urge to know what it tasted like, so he drew his paws away from their ebony idol, and slid down against Fox's side, silky fur against sensitive scale; a feeling that made Mark swoon. The fact that the incredible sensation came from contact with Alan was icing on the cake. Naturally, he tried to follow the source. In doing so, he rolled onto his side and knocked the hare off balance, who landed squarely on his butt in moist soil.

For a moment the pair were stunned. As Mark raised his head to look at his crush, trails of cum dribbled down his neck, cooled considerably in the air. His eyes trailed down over the teen's snow-white body; one floppy ear had fallen over his shoulder, while the other was askew against the side of his head. One thing stood out sharply, and it drew his coppery gaze immediately. His loose gym shorts had no chance to contain his erection in the fall, so it stood tall and proud parallel with his belly. A sharp tapered tip that broadened right down into his black tipped sheath. At that moment a bubble of pre had welled up at the tip, and it transfixed the wyvern's attention. Mark was fascinated by the subtle heat waves that radiated from its surface and could not help but curl his long neck over toward the hare; the position was a little awkward, but this was the first time he'd gotten a real look at Alan this exposed. His keen eyes allowed him to see its glistening surface in exquisite detail.

At the time the rabbit had gotten distracted by the fact that Fox's midsection was about eye level for him, which placed the wyvern's shaft in full view for his own inspection. The strange red-hued planet-glow provided a much more natural light than the full white spectrum inside. Out here he not only saw subtle undertones in the black scales, he was able to see the flesh inside the slick black barrier. His eyes followed to its base beside his shoulder. The rubber flowed out into Fox's wide-gaped cloaca, right to the walls to either side and toward the front. The whole area was swollen outward from a combination of not only the quartet of eggs that sat in his gut, but also from his swollen, heavy, long-denied internal testes.

A flushed area of deep red caught his eye beyond the shaft, and he finally made an effort to explore the area. A round orifice was situated just behind his length, squarely in the middle of the vent. Beyond that was a second hole which, if this creature conformed to his notion of anatomy, would be for waste. His eyes returned to the first and his paws reclaimed their spot upon the surface of the wyvern's shaft. They traced right to the base, as one broke away to that slightly gaped hole. A small, steady trickle of clear fluid dribbled from within, and the teen let the tip of his finger slip through the flow, then circle around, over the deep-toned flesh between the two passages. It seemed that area was sensitive, because a tiny shiver flowed through the wyvern's body at that moment.

Mark's eyes lidded, but remained locked upon the rabbit's shaft, and the pleasure his partner had drawn in him bolstered his own resolve. His neck craned that last bit of distance, and his huge black-scaled muzzle hovered a hair's breadth from the hare's length. Alan paused just a moment and looked down when he felt the hot breath wash over his shaft, but when he saw the incredible look of contentment on Fox's face he smiled wide. The wyvern's chin tipped up, and they met eye to eye. His jaw parted slowly, just enough to let his lithe tongue slip from between his teeth, and just hover there, not quite touching.

The former fox was more nervous than he'd been in his life. More than when he was first taken, more than when he woke up in this place, more than when he saw Smith and Marra for the first time. It was this moment right here, eyes locked with a lapine that he'd long been desperate to know, his shaft so close he could taste it with every draw of air. Alan didn't even speak, he just bowed his head and nosed forward as a signal for him to go on. With permission, the long muscle ventured and finally made contact with musky black flesh. Immediately his muzzle sank forward, and his nose planted against it, inhaling deeply. That scent was intoxicating, more so than the seed that filled his belly. The delightful moans spurned him ever onward to lap and nuzzle down from the tip, to the black-furred sheath-tip.

Alan could not help but watch the show, moaning gently the whole while. As many times he'd gotten someone else off with his paws or maw, he'd never had it reciprocated, save for a few chance encounters with his aunt's dog during a new year's party. His lithe hips rolls forward just slightly as that powerful muscle coiled around his shaft, just two wraps enough to cover it from tip to base. Over the long hours suckling upon Smith, he'd grown very proficient with his tongue, so he managed to hold himself there and take in the incredible sight of the white rabbit's hips pick up speed, humping out of need. The paw over Fox's hole clenched up as his throbbing shaft was squeezed from all sides, and as he rode out the pleasure his fingers slipped down over the wyvern's slick vent, the walls within his cloaca angled to channel everything toward that winking hole, and slipped neatly inside.

Though small compared to all else that had been in him to this point, it had the most impact. A long, deep rumble built in his chest, and he arched himself toward the touch more which made Alan's fingers sink in to the thumb before he had a chance to react. The rabbit's attention once again turned to this hot, wet point of entry, now with keen interest to draw more of those delightful sounds of enjoyment from this beautiful beast. His fingers circled the rim, still tucked just inside, and stretched it slightly, much to the joy of the both of them. More fluids seeped from the walls and coated Alan's fur, somewhat tacky to itself, but incredibly slick between his fingers. Heat surrounded his shaft, and from the sudden dip of Fox's head, he knew it to be buried inside his maw.

As their pleasures grew, so did their boldness. The lapine's fingers slipped farther inside, joined by his thumb, and as they touched the walls within, they were squeezed and caressed by the eager flesh, and more wonderful sounds filled the air, two two moaning in chorus. His other paw returned to its duties over Mark's rubbery shaft. The sensation was startling in intensity, and his rumbling grew all the louder, enough to make Alan's whiskers tickle. Though the rabbit's mind was on other things, intent to please this creature as much as he was. He placed the flat of his paw upon Fox's shaft and curled it around to the side, then slid it up toward the tip in a delicate motion. At the same time he drew it closer, to his muzzle so that he could take the dexterous shaft into his maw and savor another tongue wrestle with the slick tip.

The delightful heat bellowed the fires of his lust. While Mark had never imagined it would happen like this, turned into a strange creature on some alien world, coupled under a beast that had raped him, who's shaft had gone back to its placid, drippy state. All thoughts of how this situation could be somehow wrong, or strange just went by the wayside for him. The only thing he cared for at that moment was those adorable moans that Alan made when he licked just right. He felt the rabbit's caress slow, his exploration halt as he took in the sight of that firm white belly pressed against his muzzle. The intoxicating scent that filled his nose spurned him onward, to squeeze and pump at the small shaft even quicker.

He kept up his ministrations, and soon the rabbit could hold on no longer. His maw drooped, and his every breath was a sharp moan. Both his paws pulled free, then clutched at Fox's head, one with fingers ensnared in his mane, the other at the side of his face, wet with his vent's fluids. He pulled flush with the scaled maw, and cried out the continued barrage of licks threw him over the edge. He hutched forward and humped rapidly as he came. Every sticky drop splattered directly upon Mark's tongue, and he savored it in celebration, not daring to swallow and lose it too quickly.

All too soon he felt Alan push at him, and tug at his fur as his white hips pulled away. His spent black shaft was followed free of the wyvern's maw by that eager tongue, looped around it right to the last moment. The look of afterglow on the rabbit's face was as obvious as it was cute. A spark of jealousy flared in his chest, envious of just how simple a thing like cumming was for him, but that feeling turned to pride, the realization that it was him that put the expression there in the first place.

After a minute of heavy panting, Alan spoke up. "Damn... that was..." He burst into a giggle, "just... wow!" The feeling of pride grew in Fox's chest. "Well, I guess you do get a lot of practice," the rabbit was rather giddy as his attention turned back to the wyvern's shaft and vent. "Now, how about I repay the favor, eh?" A paw once again settled upon that large shaft as a gurgle echoed through his domed gut.

Their eyes met again, "go ahead, I'm not about to deny you your meal." As Mark uncoiled himself and reclaimed his food supply, and when his hot tongue coiled around that shaft a muffled moan was heard from above, though neither paid it much heed, their focus upon the contact of Alan's delicate paws with his tender flesh. Once again his digits slipped down over the slick member as his eyes took in the sight. He traced down the underside, back to his oviduct once again. It seemed that the rubbery substance petered off just at the rim.

Fingers ventured further, and dipped inside once again. The hole flexed for a moment and gripped around the rabbit's fingers, then dilated as Mark pressed himself into the attention, eager for more. This time not distracted by a glorious blowjob, his attentions were more focused and deliberate, fascinated by his anatomy.

The hole, while tight, was quite supple to his touch. Flushed a deep red, and quivering with every caress. Curiosity gripped the rabbit, and urged him forward, thumb tucked to allow his paw to ease inside. Mark's walls were slick and soft, and gripped around his fingers rhythmically. Alan's ears blushed as perverse thoughts crossed his mind, and once again he felt his shaft filling out his sheath.

It was then a cry rang out in the calm air, one familiar to Mark. He had no idea how Marra would react to Alan's presence, but he was not about to let it anything happen. She swooped down and circled back then, with a heavy beat of her wings, landed just up the lichen pathway, tail thudding to the ground along with her talons.

As she approached, Mark had uncoiled from Alan and gotten to his feet, still as hard as ever. He put himself between the larger wyvern and the lapine, even as he took on a submissive demeanor, head low, wing knuckles supporting his weight. Though it seemed she was more curious than anything, eyes focused intently upon the rabbit, an unblinking gaze that made both of them somewhat nervous.

"A-are you Marra?" Alan spoke up as he looked out from behind Mark's wing, his voice shaky. Both wyverns looked surprised at this, "my uncle told me a little about you." Her posture relaxed slightly as she caught the rabbit's scent, it was similar enough to the doctor's that she picked up the relation between them. Though clearly very wary of someone unknown so near her egg-barer, Marra understood he was no threat. Even though Mark had nearly doubled in size, the other wyvern still dwarfed him, so when she stalked forward and sniffed down at the foot which had punctured Mertezi's shoulder earlier he got just that much more apprehensive. The larger female scented the doctor's blood on his talons, glared at him a moment, then without another moment's warning turned away and leapt into the air, then flapped away back toward the scene of the attack.

After a few long, awkward moments Mark relaxed and let out a breath he did not know he was holding.

"She did not look happy," Alan remarked, his tone accented with a little dread. The wyvern nodded in agreement, then looked back at him once again. Though he was happy Marra was gone, and that nothing bad had happened, he still worried. At any time she could turn back, though as she vanished behind the hill their focus once again returned to one another.

Alan stepped out onto the lichen and looked himself over. His feet, legs, and shorts were matted with soil, and Fox did not look much cleaner. The stripe of red fur that ran down his back was flat and messy. Ever since his first encounter with the bizarre vines, he had limited his contact with the lake to short pit-stops, enough time to relieve himself and move on. Of course, with all his time in cum-slick mud it was a hopeless mess.

The rabbit did not want to go inside to shower of course, not with so much to see in The Garden, so instead he went for a different option. With caution, he ascended the hill they had come over and looked beyond. Marra was nowhere to be seen. Though what caught his eye was the reflection of water off a short distance.

He called back, "come on, let's get cleaned up. My uncle told me about a great spot."