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The day of Harnet

Around noon -- I suppose.

Dearest reader,

For many years I have been a hermit. Cut off from the world, I would sit upon emerald plains, writing poetry in preferred seclusion. The days were always nice. The nights were even nicer. Night, sweet night, I always adored the night more than the day. Darkness suits me, suits my color. It runs through my veins, it is laced along my fur. Heh- I sound evil saying darkness suits me, and that is a wild misconception. I am not evil, I am golden hearted, I know I am because of the words I write. Because of the rattling pain in my heart (like a metal bolt being shaken around in a tin pail) that tells me I am meant to love. But of course there is only grass, sky, and moon to love. And the only conversation they prefer is either a gentle swish, or a complete echo of what I just told them.

But I am rambling (it seems that writing a journal entry for the first time has gotten me excited), and I don't have much paper to write with. Nonetheless, I feel as though I must write, and not in poetry for these past events cannot be described in rhyme and rhythm, it's to broken up to be able to flow.

You see, my beloved reader (and truly beloved you are for you have chosen to read this literate rambling) A few days ago whilst walking nude upon the meadows, letting my manly parts dangle in freedom; I came by a lovely golden flower. Possibly one of the most beautiful golden flowers I have ever seen. I wanted to hold it in my paws but I could not, it needed to be there. It needed to be single in a row of green blades. I am no painter, but without the green/gold contrast it would have not been so beautiful.

So, instead, I decided to lie beside it. Normally I preferred my oak tree to live at, but somehow this golden weed seemed to hold more shelter and warmth than that oak tree could ever hold.

You see, only by writing this now do I realize that while living away in seclusion I must have built up quite a bit of love in my ole heart, and upon seeing this flower, I let it leech whatever love I had for it, and it felt good. We shared this pleasant vibe, a vibe I now recognize as the vibe I felt when I first met --him.

The prince, the foolish lover of fools, the brilliance that is in the sun and the brilliance that is reflected off the moon, the grass that shines like ocean waters upon dew drops and morning, the softness of the wind that tickles my ebony fur, the uniqueness of that golden flower that I spent so many sweet hours beside. So warm was he, yet so cold he became.

You see, when I was young, I lived in a wonderful kingdom. Rich, clean, and safe, (or so the king of the land had us to believe) it was a place I called home before I met the wilds that I live in now. I was a mill worker, working as cheap child labourer grinding flour for bakeries and such. Also, I was an orphan, living in the king's orphanage 20 miles out of town. Poor, lonely, and malnourished, I did not live the nicest of lives. To live was a fight of desperation.

Oh how I lived in distain! The other mill workers (all were much older) weren't so nice either: horrible memories do they bring up as they laughed at me, telling stories of the cleaver wielding ogre that loved to eat little boys who didn't do their work. Well he would only eat them after, chopping the boys into little cubes while they were still alive- how they would be still alive I do not know. So, most of my childhood was spent cleaning up flour in fear of an ogre with a cleaver.

I didn't grow up very healthy, I didn't grow up very strong, and I certainly was not happy. And for most of my life did I live like this. But, with my unbalanced mind, do I realize that I should really thank the suffering of those years, for without those years, seeing the prince for the first time wouldn't have been so sweet.

It was about my, hmm, my eighteenth year I do recall, when I first saw him. It was during the festival of his return. As you should already know, it is customary for a prince to leave the kingdom for 10 years of his life, to fight at the front lines and become a man. And if he was still alive, he would return as an upcoming king. He was about 12 when he left, so when he came back he was 22.

Anyways, the prince was returning and a big festival was being performed. There were delicacies (most made from the flour I created), wine, and women dancing erotically. Of course, the festival was only for the wealthy so I got to see all of this while sitting from the mill window, working the night shift. I was actually contemplating jumping out the window as I watched the festival, but every time I lifted my leg onto the window ledge, I would take it off, because I kept thinking of how the ogre would be displeased if I tried to kill myself. So I sat at the ledge, weeping away, as aristocrats and capitalists of every corner dressed in silks and powdered wigs danced with women dressed in skimpy threads and pearls. At this point the only clothing I owned was a pair of brown pants.

And then the trumpets rang, a sound that still plucks the harp strings of my soul, a sound that is more beautiful than any song ever sang, a sound that is more precious than any diamond ever held, oh that fanfare, that lovely trumpet song, oh how it brings back so much good that I never knew of.

Sorry, I got off track a bit, didn't I? So the trumpets played their beautiful, mystifying song, and on open carriage did the prince arrive. He was beautiful, but the way he dressed, made me mistake him for female. And not knowing of my sexual preference at this age (I actually didn't even know that I had a sexual preference), I was immediately in love with her. Of course, it doesn't make much sense why the princess would be arriving on the prince's carriage, during the PRINCE'S ceremony, but as an uneducated and mildly depressed adult, I tended to not think about these things.

So, I sat up in the mill window, watching from the distance as this beautiful creature came riding in. His face was a powdered white, his lips dark red, his cheeks blushed with pink, and his hair covered up by a tall powdered wig with bows in it. He wore a frilly collar, and a purple silk robe, that at a distance resembled a dress (at least for me). I hope you can now see why I thought him to be female.

Oh I could remember exactly how I felt: fast my heart beat, the only thing running in my mind, "I have to meet her," and my knees, feeling weak, but ready to carry me into that princess's embrace. So I did exactly what my body wanted me to do, I ignored the ogre, and ran out of that mill, going forth to the festival.

It was a long run, down a steep hill, with roars of cheering, drunken laughter, and fireworks to hinder my poor delicate ears. But even as they rang in annoyance, in my mind, all I was hearing was, "I have to meet her." I ran through darkness and short bursts of light, as the fireworks created excess stars in the sky. My black fur, only a shadow as I made my way to the festival, I was invisible, but to me so was everyone else, except for the prince of course.

The night was still young, and I finally made it into the town square. But there was a problem, I was dressed in poor people's clothing, I needed to look the part in order to get close enough to the princess. Then I thought,

"Wait, I AM just a poor boy. How the hell am I supposed to get a princess?"

"Lie"

I know it wasn't the best solution, but I was in love.

Still, I didn't look the part, solution solved, I came by a man who had in his company one of the dancers, both were fully nude, and his clothing was ripe for the snatching. However, I will confess to my crimes at this point in the story, for I did not immediately snatch the clothes away. For, the moans of the amiable encounter seemed to have provoked me into the craft of a peeping tom.

The male was dressed for a masquerade; he had a rainbow styled half mask with peacock's feathers that flailed from the mask like a lion's mane. He wore silk white gloves that had diamond (real or fake I wasn't sure) that trailed around his wrist. I can only remember him of having white fur; I think he was a feline of some sort. I'm really not too sure.

The girl at first seemed to be flat in her chest. Her fur was golden from head to toe, and her head fur was spread out like a spider's web. Beads and trinkets decorated her nude body, as a small thong miniskirt was pulled off to the side, to give access to the female's lower regions. More specifically, her ass.

I could remember as a young one thinking naively, "Why would he do a girl in her bum and not her no-no parts?"

But despite the spectacle being abstract I still decided it to be physically appealing, and I could feel my own arousal developing. That was until the male, upon his hard thrusts, reached down to pull at the mini skirt, ripping it off in one strong yank, and threw it to the side. There standing tall in the bottomed furs crotch was a long and erect penis, of this female's manly regions. I then realized that this was not a female at all, rather a male in the guise of an erotic dancer.

I was shocked at first, but I wasn't able to pull my eyes away, even with the thought of meeting that princess, the uniqueness of the whole ordeal had me hooked. The grunting, the wet fur, the torch light providing adequate light, the stronger male's fur bouncing angelically along his body to each thrust he sent inside of her--erm him. I remember feeling a bone chill up my young spine as I saw the top male grab the lower male's limp and hanging piece of meat, and beat it back to life.

I didn't stay for the whole show, however, the oddness of being attracted to something as queer as two males together forced to remind me of my current quest: I had to meet that beautiful angel. So I stole the clothes and transformed myself into a wealthy man, or at least the appearance of one. And with one last peek into the tent, I was on my way. My mind was clouded by excitement, my heart was beating beyond any adjective, my clothing was-- ridiculously tight, but I kept telling myself that it was her grip, her arms holding me, seeping the feeling of security through my body. Now I realize it was that male from before, that I was imagining, not a princess.

Oh I seem to be rambling again. Where was I? Oh yes, so I was dressed like a wealthy man forcing my way though a massive crowd. Ever fought your way through a crowd of snotty rich men? I'll tell you, they don't like being shoved around, but they don't do much, but say,

"Oh my word!"

Or

"How rude."

It would have been more comical if my heart hadn't turned the situation into a code red of desperation.

So I made it to the middle, the eye of the storm, crowds of well-aired noses pointed in the air like sharks circled around me. But when I got there, there was only an empty carriage, with a red carpet leading away from the scene. Far away from the scene.

I was too late.

He (or she as I thought) was gone.

Devastation. If anything had ever felt right in my life at that point, it was what I felt when I saw that being's essence portrayed for me like a painting in a frame. I thought I had hit the Minotaur of the labyrinth; all I could do now was lower my head and await my punishment. However the Minotaur brought no axe this time, merely a shimmer of hope,

"You der, Whadda ya doin trailin behind? Tha prince needs ya to help wit his stuff." A large and armoured bovine came up behind me, taping my shoulder with a hoof. Startled I turned around to meet muzzle with the sharpened head of a quite large halberd.

I was incredibly confused at this point, so in a low pitch stutter, I mumbled,

"Me?"

"Ya you, ya see any other servants dick'in around? Hurry up! Tha prince is probably already at the castle gates, and ya better hope he aint carryin any of his luggage himself." Indeed the wealthy man's clothes I had stolen, was only the clothes of a wealthy man's servant. Well, not just any wealthy man's servant, the prince's servant.

"Prince? Uhm... Is the princess around?"

"Har har har, not funny ta make fun-na of ya boss like that." The bovine laughed smacking my rear with his halberd. "Now get'sa mooove on."

So I ran off, following the red carpet in a speed that was hard to maintain with the chafe that the tight pant's I was wearing held on my crotch. It was a long and tiring journey, but eventually I caught up to the other servants,

"Ey, you're not Frank!" One of the servants said, addressing me as I huffed and puffed myself back to life.

"Yea? Where's Frank!" Another one called out.

"Huh? Who cares? He's cute." There seemed to be several servants in the darkness of the night, perhaps five if I do remember.

"He's cute alright, but what happened to Frank?"

"Come on guys, we've got to get moving."

Finally, restored, and with a spot of brilliance in my mind I told them "what happened to Frank"...

"Well you see, uhh, Frank? I found him, uhh while walking around the festival, with uhh, my dad who owns a bakery in the east. And uhh, Frank was with this uhh, dancer, and he said that I could have his clothes and become a servant to the princess because he was giving it up and running away to live with the dancer."

"Sounds like Frank to me." One of them spoke out. "And princess, careful what you call your new master."

"Why would Frank run away with a dancer?" Another spoke, "And don't call your master a princess, you might offend him."

"Are you really allowed to quit just like that?" They seemed to speak in a special pattern, "Princess! I gotta call him that sometime!"

"Well, I guess welcome to servitude under the *teehee* Princess!"

"Guys, the prince is expecting us to be at the bath house."

"Thanks guys! Here let me help you carry some of that stuff." The servants were quick to let me into their troupe. One of the servants was over burdened and glad to offer some of his luggage to me. He dropped a few bags on the ground, and when I went to pick them up he grabbed me under the chin fur, and gave me a small nibble on the ear. Confused by this action, little did I know that the prince's service team happened to be all homosexual. Actually, I don't even know if I knew what a homosexual was.

Anyways, if was a long and tiring hike for me, especially when carrying the prince's luggage. The other servants seemed to be enjoying rare glances at me as I huffed and puffed once again, my heart beating almost painfully, and my lungs feeling like I was breathing in needles. I thought I was going to pass out, but somehow, and I like to think it was the love I felt, I made it the fortress.

A few staircases downwards through the secret servant entrance and I was in. I was espionage extraordinaire, a super slick stealth snake. But I was really more of a rank rat, a lank liar. I was a fool back in the day. I really was.

The bathing quarters weren't that far down into the lower areas of the castle, as I remember. And surely the physical exhaustion was worth it when I came by the spectacle of how beautiful the king's bath's are. Marble tiles and limestone statues decorated the room. Carved rock, smoothed by mankind, shelled the mini paradise, giving it the ambience of an underground cavern. The torches we're designed to let off faint smells of roses and other flowers. And to the Far East wall laid a glass mural of the king's bloodline. It was unfinished. At this point I noticed that there was no princess on the mural. Finally things started to click in. But I still didn't fully understand who the princess really was. Oh how much of an idiot I was in those times.

In a far off corner, laid a silhouette, hidden in the darkness, the torches around it we're put out. The servants bowed, and began to speak in their militant fashion once again (I can be remember being quite annoyed by their speech pattern),

"Sir! We've brought your things."

"But oh are we ever exhausted!"

"But never exhausted for you sir!"

"Shall we accompany you in this bath tonight?"

"Yes sir, shall we have a festival of our own tonight?"

Then like an idiot I had to open my mouth, "Shouldn't we be calling her ma'am?"

The prince just stayed in the darkness,

"There will be no fun. Not tonight, perhaps not ever. You may carry my things up to my chamber." The prince said, waving his hand in the air from the darkness. The servants started to leave, but I stayed still, mollified in confusion.

"You there, get going! You are lucky I don't behead you for disgracing me with your slander. It's not funny. I may be different but that makes me no female! I am not a shame to the king!" The prince roared, he sounded like a panther, a male panther.

"Your-you're a guy?" I said, my mind trying it's hardest to connect things together.

"And what's that suppose to mean? Because I like men, that makes a girl right? A princess, is that your joke?" He was roaring, the whole bathing chamber seem to shake. I could also remember the sound of long and sharp nails scratching against the bath side. I got scared, and before I knew it I was on my knees confessing my crimes. When he heard my story, the scratching stopped, and he started to laugh.

"Oh? Is that it? You thought I was a princess? What kind of fool are you! Har-har-har (oh how beautiful his laugh was). And you came all this way just to meet me? I'm flattered really. But I'm sorry I can't give you a princess to sleep with." He laughed again, and then turn serious, "I hope my dad finds this funny. It was his idea to dress me up in such a ridiculous robe. By the GODS! I hate him. I hate him!" He started to cry.

I stood there slack jawed for a second before speaking up, "What's wrong?"

"It's my dad. It's me. It's...Why do you care. You're just some lustful child looking for some princess tail! Get lost."

I was tempted to leave, a little disappointed I was not going to get to sleep with a princess, but I knew it wouldn't be right to leave him, not when he was crying. Well, also the fact that even by his voice I could tell that I loved him (I just couldn't realize it yet). So instead I continued the conversation,

"But you're crying."

"So? What does it matter to you."

"I don't like hearing people cry." I shrugged. Really I wanted to say something like, "Because hearing an angel cry is like ripping out harp strings from the frame. "

"Do you really care?"

"Well yah, I mean, you're the prince your suppose'dah be happy right?"

He laughed at the comment, and my heart jumped a bit at the sound, "Well, yes, I guess I can see some logic in that. You see, like I said before, I happen to like men. I mean really like men. So, I use to, to, well play with other men as a cub. And one day, my father caught me, and told me, when I was young that what I was doing was very wrong. And for the first time I spoke back to my father, I told him that it feels right to me. He was furious; he's always been short tempered and in anger he stood tall over me and told me to prepare myself for a spanking. But instead of spanking me, he dug his claws into my rump. I squealed in pain as he made bleed through my behind saying things like, "Is this right?" "Does this feel right?" "Is this what you want?"

I looked at him as he remained in the dark, "How horrible,"

"So I tried to live my life, hiding the feelings I had, and I was quite good at doing so. But then the urges started to grow, and about the time I was sent off into military, I had fallen in love with one of the generals. I tried to hide him from my life, but he was always there, making me feel loved. He would bring me tea and cuddle me warm during cold winters at the battlefield, he would help me with my training, and he even lost his arm to protect me. And soon, I couldn't help it anymore. One night, whilst cuddling in the cold, I asked him if he could hold me closer because I was extra cold. And he did. And as he held me closer, I could feel his breath starting to grow heavy on my neck. And then, then, I felt something hard, poking me. I responded to this by a nuzzle into him and a shake of my rump. And then he, well he made love to me. All the while whispering in my ear, "I love you." And, "Are you feeling okay?"

I felt the tight pants I was wearing grow tighter, "Mhm...then what happened?"

"Father found out. He found out. He was furious. He ordered a public execution of my love, the bastard made me watch. He made me watch! The bastard made me watch as his head rolled off the stump and into the basket. I started to cry, but those tears came to a halt when he lifted me into the air and slapped me silly. Telling me to quit being a princess, I was a prince, a warrior. Warriors do not sleep with their generals. "

He started to cry again and I felt bad, "I'm sorry." I said.

"It's not over yet. So after that I went through a bit of a rebellious stage. I wanted to kill my father. I started to call him by his real name, Alexander. And I really began to train. I trained myself into a warrior not only physically, but mentally. I became this beast succumbed by anger and wrath. I hired servants, the ones you know today, from a male erotica travelling show. Slept with every last one of them, but not out of love, out of lust and anger for my dad. I felt so wrong for doing it, but in a way it was like stabbing my father in the heart over and over again. When dad found out of my actions, he came back to the battle line, only this time with chains and whips. And I knew for sure it wasn't a kink he was trying to satisfying with them. He..."

I wanted to help him, but he just stayed far back in the pool, hiding in the shadow, "He what?"

He came out of the shadows and I saw not a beautiful man, but the remains of one. Well, he still was handsome but his body was whipped, ripped, scorned, burned, scarred, and with drifting eyes I found that he was also castrated. I shook my head in horror and took a few steps back; it was a bit of a shock.

"He chained me up, and after whipping me, burning me, he held my balls in his hand, and he said to me, "Men like you don't deserve the balls given to them" and with a dull knife he cut them off. Ignoring my cries in pain. My cries for salvation, my useless, ignored cries."

I said nothing at this point.

"He then ordered that upon my return, I am to look like a female. You could probably tell I didn't stay at the party for very long. I was the joke of the ceremony. Just like how I am a joke of life."

He kneeled back down into the water and cried again, I just stood there and starred at him not knowing what to do. Then I heard a voice in the back of my head,

"Go to him."

So I did, I jumped into the bath pools and trudge my way though waist deep waters, and then I grabbed him into my arms. And I--I kissed him, briefly before he pushed away,

"What are you doing? I thought you were after princesses?"

And then, like my mind woke up, I pulled my wet and clothed body to his naked ball-less body, and I said, "It was not my intention to get a princess, it was my intention to get a prince with less." I laughed, and pressed him closer in my body, he fought it a bit, but in a way he was also telling me he wanted it, "But what I found was a prince with less, who doesn't realize how much more he could have."

The prince being a lot stronger t, easily escaped my grasp. And as he pushed me off, I fell backwards into the water, hitting my rump hard on the stone floor of the pool. He then raised his paw to give me a good backhander, but not before yelling, "And what more could a guy like me ever get?"

"My love."

He growled, "I don't want any man's love anymore!" He moved to slap me hard on the face, I squinted my eyes readying myself for pain, but as he came down instead of a large WHACK there was only a soft touch on the side of my head, "But, I've tried fighting the urges, and that is something I cannot do. Especially when someone as beautiful as you is here to show me the impossibility of that task."

He then leaned down to kiss me, our lips meeting; I could feel his love glow into me. I know that's a weird way to describe it, but that's the way it felt. Like he was shoving a candle down my throat and bringing light to my dark insides. He pushed me down into the water, lying on top of me, my head was under water, and while underwater I felt like I was in a whole new world. A world that we shared. I could tell he felt the same way as he had a gentle murr that was amplified through vibrations in the water.

His tongue was unforgiving to my muzzle. It wanted to explore every aspect of me, and the more it found, the more I realized who I was. I was a panther, I was a male, I was homosexual, and I was in love. I was kissing him back; I knew I was giving him the same gift.

I don't remember how, but soon enough under his touch I was naked.

He pulled me back to the surface, and I got a breath of air, but the world I had fallen into underwater did not disappear. Instead it felt even more wonderful as I felt his soft wet paw grasp me, and play with me. Underwater, his paws rolled my package between his paw fingers, making my arousal grow quickly, I found myself whimpering like a kitten. He licked my neck, his own erection slowly growing. My head fell against his shoulder and I wrapped my arms around him, as my penis grew against his belly. His paw was between my legs, rolling my balls, almost in envy.

I started to grind my erection into his scarred body, unable to hold my arousal; I could smell our scents filling up the room. He was hard now; I was already spitting pre-cum into his fur. He just continued to fondle me, I continued to purr and whimper, he worked me just right, it felt just right; I always knew it would be all right.

Then he finally grabbed my shaft, my shaft was practically begging for him to do this. His wet paws playing against my wet cock as he smoothly glided up and down my arousal. It made me squeeze him even harder into my body, so I could feel his cock head against mine, so I could feel him, so I could meld into him.

He started to push away, stopping the play, I whimpered for more but he just giggled. He walked away from me, and I stood there mollified. What was he doing? This was so perfect. He just kept this sly giggle as he came to the edge of the bath, and in waist deep waters he spread his legs, and pulled his tail to the side. The tail hole, right there, was waiting, needing, wanting. I came up behind him, wrapping my arms around his body, feeling his gorgeous figure with my drenched fingers. I touched my head to the hole, panting a bit. He shivered,

"Love me?" He questioned.

"Of course." I answered.

And with that I drove into him, pushing my moistened member into his tail hole. He moaned, and spread his legs a bit wider, underestimating me. A bit down on the scruff, securing my place, and I pushed deep into him. Then I pulled out of him. Then I paused. I felt like crying in joy,

"Done already?" He laughed,

"Not yet my friend." I laughed back.

And then I really gave it to him. My penis like a drill into his earth, breaking rock, breaking coal, breaking diamond, I found his gold, and it was beautiful. The shiny gold, the gold that glitters, the gold that Midas wanted and especially not a fool's gold.

I didn't last very long, I couldn't, and I had never done this before. Nor did I even know until then that two guys could do this. Somehow I had figured it out as I went along.

When I finished I collapsed into the water with a splash, he followed and then we cuddled along the brim of the pool. Just cuddling in the sounds of our heavy breathing. The prince waited for me to stop before giving me a kiss on the nose and bring his paws up to align my eyes with his eyes. He looked at me sorrowfully and said,

"You cannot stick around. When my dad comes down here, he will smell your scent. He will know what I've done, and he will know how you smell. You must run to the meadows. "

"But what about you?"

"Well, there's a possibility he will kill me. Maybe not, he still needs an heir to his throne and I am his only son. So he will try and punish me. He will try to find you, to punish me. So you must run to the meadows."

"But I can't leave you."

"You will. You have to. Both of us will live in misery if you stay here. But listen. I will return to you. Stay out in the meadows. And when the gold harnet, the rarest flower of them all, grows again, I will return to you."

"How do you know it will grow?"

"Well the legend is, it only grows when the prince finds his love. So he may give it to his love at their wedding."

"Will it grow if you die?"

"No."

"Then I will look for that flower, and when I find it, I will look for you."

At those words I left him, and at those words I shall leave you, for I am out of paper.

Thank you for reading my story.

Oh wow? I wrote a non tragic story? That's right; they didn't die at the end. This is my first ACTUAL love (that lasts) story, okay..It's a bit tragic with the castrated prince and all, but that's just emotional build up. Ha ha.

So this story was thought up of when I heard Zamfir's The Lonely Sheppard (giggles, castration---the lonely Sheppard...I just thought about that innuendo. Haha! I swear I didn't make that connection originally). Anyways when I listened to this song I basically got this image of a person (a cast-away) waiting for his love, meeting his love, and then being with his love in this heavenly green plain of sorts. So this is that Lonely Sheppard story's prologue I suppose. I don't think I'm going to write the actually Lonely Sheppard story, because I might end up killing the characters. And I must refrain myself from doing so.

So about the end of Frizzled Furies and the Dewie stories...I don't think they will be finished any time soon. And IF someone wants to finish them independently, go ahead; just tell me beforehand so I'll know to keep an eye out for it ;-). Trust me, I'll be honoured.

As for future developments, I'm putting Yiffstar on hold for a longer period of time (maybe all summer) as I write a longer series. You might catch me on the forums, or I might submit a short story here and there so you know I'm still alive. And if you want to know what my next story is about...I'll give you a couple of words:

Motorcycles,

A bad ass Jackal,

Yiffing (woot!),

Violence,

And Hell

Hopefully I'll be able to get through it before getting sick of the story. I almost lost inspiration for this story O_o!