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The fall leaves skittered about beneath a moon that turned the world silver and blue rather than the darkness that Thomas had been expecting. It wasn't cold yet, the south was never really cold, but there was the rich scent of fall on the air that made him draw in a deep breath and sigh it out. It was night between before Halloween and he could barely contain the roiling emotions that curled in his stomach. He could barely stop the tremors that threatened to shake his legs and make his breath come out soft and shivering. It wasn't the weather that roused his nerves, his fear, his anticipation. It was what he stood at the precipice of. He felt frozen as he looked at the white house that loomed in front of him and the elegant pillars that marked the sprawling porch.

The plantation house was illuminated with gas lights that flickered and gave it the appearance of being from another time and another place. The large lights that framed the door spread the yellow light out along towards the road, while inside there was the warm glow of hundreds of such lights that had been placed inside of it. It looked like he had walked into another century, even down to the men and women who were trailing in through the doors dressed in a style that hadn't been seen in over a hundred years. Top hats and long coats, capes and elegant blouses, dresses that flared out and ones that hugged the occupants. They were everywhere and it made Thomas swallow as he looked down at himself and the tight black pants he had bought coupled with the royal blue blouse.

Most of all, he looked at the mask he held in his hands. The mask that he'd found sitting outside of his door in a plain paper wrapped box. It had been covered by a thick linen piece of paper with an invitation written in a sweeping elegant hand. His hands had been shaking as he'd picked the invitation up that invited him to a Masquerade Ball to be held on All Hallow's Eve and noted the time, place as well as a small personal note at the bottom.

"Do not keep our dance waiting."

He didn't have to ask who had sent it, he didn't have to wonder who had written in that sweeping elegant writing or who had made found out his address. He knew. The mask that he'd uncovered had been made with a hundred obsidian chips that formed something that looked like strangely gleaming fur. They were dark black, but with white flecks interspaced through it to make it look silvery grey in the right light. The grey markings spread outwards to form diamonds and darker stripes that outlined everything as a whole. It was lovely and expensively made if he was any judge of it. The muzzle came down to a narrow point and above the head a pair of silver horns rose up and curled at the tips. The ears were spread to either side. The mask of a goat, done in such detail that he could only marvel at the beauty when he stroked it with the tips of his fingers.

How could he refuse the invitation? How could he step away from what was offered in the mask? He had kept it next to his bed as a silent promise as he ticked down the days until Halloween. His emotion ran the gauntlet of trembling fear at what he had experienced at the last party and glorious anticipation at what he hoped to experience this time. It bundled together until he felt nearly sick and he changed his mind half a dozen times. He switched it hourly the actual day of the party. And when it came time to leave he gripped the steering wheel and nearly turned around time and again. But in the end the draw of the fall air had sweetly called to him until he found himself responding to it without thinking of anything except the dance that was so much a part of his memories that it had begun to haunt his waking hours and his strangest dreams.

Thomas shivered and slipped the finely made mask down along his face before slipping out of his car and into fire lit night. The chill of fall trailed down his spine as he closed the door and felt the echo of the slam travel along his spine. That one small movement cut him off from the modern world and he could almost feel the air around him draw a breath before relaxing it. He straightened his shoulders and tucked the edge of the mask more firmly along his face as he walked up the passage way to brightly illuminated porch and the sound of violins dancing on the air. Their plaintive strains rose up and fell down in a trill that made his heart lift as he put his step on the marble stairs. This was his night.

~ ~ * ~ ~

"Children of Bacchus!" The voice purred into the brightness of the ball room with a caressing voice that slipped through the crowd intimately. "Welcome to our night!"

Thomas trembled as he was jostled in the midst of a crowd that gave no attempt at being human. A wolf padded along the edge of the wall and a leopard sipped a glass of dark wine. Animals surrounded him, but animals with the body of men. The crazed vision of Egyptian deities flitted through his mind as he watched a powerful looking bull step through the crowd all but nude. A brass ring pierced through his nose as he jostled and rumbled to his fellows. The creatures shed their humanity as they stepped into the plantation house and made no pains at trying to hide what they were from him. He felt as if he were being pulled into an intimate world where he was only a specter, a shade, a ghost dancing through their midst. Seen, but not truly acknowledged.

"Always acknowledged by those o' us who recognize tha' mos' honored guest." The rich deep voice in a strange accent that shifted and rippled through dialects in a dizzying speed.

Thomas felt his heart pounding against his chest as a thick fingered hand moved to slide along the curve of his shoulder and slipped down to wrap over his chest. The fingers dug in against his blouse with the thumb brushing right over his covered nipple. He drew in a breath as he was tugged back and felt a puff of hot breath tickling just behind the curve of his ear and down along his neck. The line of his back was pushed firmly back against the broadness of a strong chest. The mask hid the flash of white around the edges of eyes in reaction to the touch and the hot flush that rushed against his cheeks. He turned his head to find the grinning skull patterned face looking at him with a sly up twist of the lips. The dark flicker of the eyes showed hints of brightness, as if stars reflected from somewhere beyond the black.

"Creole.." Thomas breathed the name out, but it came with a slight hitch in his throat.

"Oui, swee' chere, always an' forever." The muzzle dropped down to brush against his shoulder and the hand on his shirt gave a slight jerk that pulled the material tight. "Bon, ya came. Been waitin' an' age fer ya."

"I-" The human started out, when he became aware of the slow plaintive sound of the violin rising up on the air. An eerie silvery noise that spilled through the room and was carried with it the brighter sharper noise of a piano being struck.

"Monsieurs an' Mademoiselles, on dis our night, we give t'anks ta our creator." Creole spoke loudly, but the volume didn't hurt Thomas' ears. The deep vibrations felt like a brush of fur caressing down his spine. "An' dis be what we 'ave been waiting for. Bacchaus gave us three nights o' the year. The Summer ta find 'em, the Fall to consecrate 'em, the Winter ta take 'em. An' tonight, we enjoy the one who came back to us. Do we not, chere?"

Thomas didn't see the people gathered around, but he felt them. He felt them in the way that they shifted their attention to him and he could almost feel the hair on the back of his neck rise up. The hands that gripped around his chest turned him until he faced the strange antelope like creature. Creole was as odd and imposing as he had been the first day that they had met. His body was only dressed in an opened leather vest, and nothing more. A fact that Thomas found out by glancing down and finding himself staring at the heavy cream sheath that rested almost against his own covered belly. The powerful bent legs were slightly spread as if the creature flaunted his nudity and invited his 'guest' to do the same.

The human swallowed and opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Whatever words he wished to offer, be they assent or denial were stolen from him by the muzzle that pressed against his mask. The mobile nose slipped beneath the edge and push under it so that for one brief moment he felt the animalistic push of soft furred lips against his own. The thick tongue slipped out and caressed over his lips and brushed upwards to trail just along his lower lip. He could smell the rich wild scent of the creature that seemed to draw him into the kiss. His own smaller pink tongue flicked out lightly to brush against the furred lips before his mouth was invaded by the oryx.

It wasn't a gentle kiss, it wasn't discrete and sweet. It was the hot feel of a tongue so much thicker then his own driving into his maw and brushing up against the roof of his mouth. The mask pushed up and sat askew on his face as the large hoof tipped fingers gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him in close. There was nothing he could do, no way he could pull free and no way that he wished to as he felt his body pressing against Creole's. The tilt of the buck's head forced him lower into a more subservient position while his belly was brushed right along the swell of the sheath. The powerful pouch ground along him and dragging against his clothing. How could he care? How could he pull away? How could he not push his mouth up greedily against that of his Master's?

As if the oryx had heard the thought he felt a bone deep growl spill from between the soft furred lips. The fingers that gripped his shirt yanked hard enough that he felt the seams tearing along his back, but his mind was no longer on that position. It was lost in the sudden hot spill of magic that plunged into his mouth deeper then the tongue. The energy hot and thick, like sticky taffy that rolled over his tongue and he tried to swallow down. The swirling of the hot tongue plunged it deeper until Thomas almost imagined he could feel the flow of magic gliding down his throat and into his stomach. The fire flared through him as he suckled and pulled around the tongue for more. Their mouths spread the magic between them and the human felt it sticking in his throat as his body began to burn.

Beads of sweat formed along the line of his brow and his face flushed beneath the cockeyed mask, but still he took that magic. As sweet as the darkest candy, as heady as the most forbidden treat and he wanted more! He wanted to glut himself on it, drown himself in it. Dive into it's hold until he lost himself and only surface at the sweet silver call of his Master. He was the magic and the magic was him. He could almost hear the silvery violins spilling over his body and the musical notes caressing and teasing over him. The gentle touches fluttering down his spine while he gave himself over to it. Gladly, willfully he gave himself over! He would do so a hundred times, but Creole's lips did not hold him forever. They pulled back and the magic clung between them in sticky strands before the heat snapped away and left him shaking.

"Bon, bon.. come, chere, 'tis time ta do 'im honor." The oryx moved his hand up and the mask was tugged firmly down over Thomas' face.

Light. The light spilled over him and blinded him to the people that he knew were ringed around him. Ancient demi-gods from forgotten times peered at him with an air of eagerness and anticipation while he was spun into the spot light and fell down to his knees. The magic that he'd swallowed, the magic that he'd tried to drown himself in suddenly roiled through his stomach and through his soul. It twisted and rocked him as electrical pin pricks trailed along his back and made his muscles seize up. The mask twisted around his head and pulsed down to compress along his jaws. The powerful rippling movement curled along the edges of his lips as he felt the lovely mask begin to slip up along the edges of his cheeks and higher. The sparks flared and snapped against his skin as what had been carefully placed chips of precious stones became softer.

The sound of the music picked up and started to mimic the pounding of his heart. The wild beat vibrated his chest as he lowered his head and let his body give itself over to the oryx's strange powers. The mask clung to him as the hard edges melted and started to slip along his head. Thomas reached up and gripped the front of the mask only to feel the fur starting to form and grow along the rise of his cheeks. His fingers touched the flat hard surface of the mask only briefly before he felt the spill of heat and his body merging with it. His soft lips pressed out as they became a part of the costume and soft split lips curled back. His entire body shook while his vision started to blur and change into the strange slit eyes of the goat.

The world's scents became sharper and piercing as he drew in a trembling breath and tasted the animalistic scents on the air. His nostrils flared along the muzzle that grew outwards and even picked up the sharper musk of goat. The changing human moved his hands up with a whimper when he felt a sharp hot pain on the top of his head as he joined with the curving goat horns that curled backwards. The weight of them made him drop his head until his muzzle hit against the edge of a hard metal chalice. The sour scent of wine clung to it and made him sneeze out and try to draw back, but one of the oryx's pale cream hands gripped him by the back of the next.

He rolled his eyes up to see the nude buck grinning down at him with his skull like features and the cup pressed more urgently against his lips. The splash of wine spilled over his tongue and lips until he had no choice but to open his lips up to drink. His back bowed and his stomach tensing as the fur spread down the line of his spine and spread over his chest in an itching rush that made him want to squirm. The sharp alcohol clung to his tongue and it was almost impossible to drink without gagging slightly as it spilled down his throat. It was sickly sweet beneath the taste of fermented grapes and the oryx didn't pull it away, but upended it so he was left gulping. The dark red liquid spilled out of the corners of his lips and ran down his bare chest as the dark black fur began to chase away the pale bare skin.

It seemed to be an eternity before the cup was no longer being forcibly poured down his throat. And when the cup drew away his lower chin was gripped and his muzzle forced up to kiss Creole thoroughly. The oryx's tongue plunged inwards and seemed to try to scoop and tease away every taste of the wine he could get. It swirled and caressed over his own while the changing goat let out an embarrassing little bleating cry muffled by the pale demanding lips. The hoof tipped hand moved down to grip the edge of his pants and gave a jerking tug that nearly made him fall forward. He tried to get off his knees, but his legs were twisting and the bones changing. The most he could do was get himself into a crouch as Creole peeled the edge of his pants downwards.

He could feel the heat, the spasms, but it wasn't until the other male's lips pulled back that he could glance down. Unlike the first time, his cock wasn't growing heavy and floppy like a ponies. It stiffened and darkened into a brilliant red as a plump black sheath began to form at the base. The tapered tip jutted up against his stomach as he was pushed backwards to land on his rump. The push made him let out a loud bleating cry as his tail bone hit the floor and twitched up high to keep from catching it. The position allowed the oryx to peel his pants off and wriggle them down over his hips. His breath caught in his throat when he watched the swollen black orbs slip free and fall along his changed legs. Thomas's hands dropped behind him and he heard the click of his hoof tipped nails against the ball room floor as he was stripped and left nude in the midst of the gathered strangers.

The energy flowed around him and lapped along his skin as if it were caressing him. The air of anticipation was growing and the little goat glanced around wildly to see the animalistic eyes watching him intently. Some were glazed and looked through him, but others were focused and waiting. He bleated out again, the embarrassing sound trilling from his throat as he flattened broad ears against his head. His body felt smaller, more compact and more vulnerable than it had as a pony. He wanted to bolt from the room and away from the strangeness that he had willingly given himself over to. He wanted to flee before they could drag him further into their world. He wanted to run before it was too late.

Thick fingers gripped the underside of his chin and forced it up until he was staring only at the oryx. Only at the grinning skull patterned face and the blunt glistening teeth that were bared in a grin. Only at his Master. The strange creature owned him. He couldn't deny that way his heart started to move faster as he found the fingers brushing back and forth along his jaw or the heat that he felt. His dark red boned cock was pressed against his dark belly, the sensation sending a shiver down his spine as the tip rubbed against his belly. He didn't even fight when the hand gripping his chin pulled him forward and the oryx's cock rubbed right over the bridge of his muzzle.

A thick sticky drop of precum oozed and splashed down on the bridge of his nose and rolled down to one side. The scent made him wrinkle his nose as the glistening glans rubbed it back and forth to smear into his fur intimately marking him before pulling back. The little goat didn't think, he didn't freeze up, he didn't hesitate as he parted his split lips and wrapped it around the tip. Thomas surged up onto his knees as the hard glans pushed along his tongue and plunged into his muzzle. His hot breath puffed out over the flesh while he felt it pushing in deeper by a roll of cream and tan hips. The precum oozed out over his tongue and rolled down his throat as he swallowed and pushed his tongue upwards tightly to squeeze around his master's girth. The short triangle of his tail started to wag rapidly back and forth in pleasure as he heard the hissing groan come from above him.

The oryx's hips rolled and pulled back so that the tip trailed over Thomas' tongue so that with each swallow he rippled it upwards to run back and forth. The goat tilted his head to one side as a flow of strange words were murmured from the baritone voice above him. They blended with the sound of the violin that still played with the plaintive tone that started to build up towards a crescendo before trilling down again. The music and the master. They were one and the same to him as he turned his head slowly up again before tilting to the other side, swirling his tongue and rubbing the glans along the roof of his mouth. He didn't even stir when a set of large hands wrapped around the base of his tail and pulled him backwards. He only struggled when they started to pull him off the hard hot length.

A thick blunt cock tip slipped beneath his raised and wagging tail making Thomas' eyes snap open wide. He couldn't turn his head to look to see who, or even what, the creature was. He only felt the heat and drooling precum while he tried to suck harder around Creole's cock tip. The liquid heat that occasionally bubbled from the tip kept him on edge and distracted him enough that he moved his hands up to grip either side of the oryx's hips. His fingers sank into the deceptively soft fur just below the edge of the vest and had to dig in hard as his hips were lifted up. He muffled his bleat around the shaft as he was left suspended between them and the cock suddenly pushed hard against his tail hole. He tried to clamp it down, but one of the hands gripping his hip moved up high enough to push it back up. His taut anal ring stretched open as the pressure grew too much and left him bleating out around the boned cock in his maw.

There was a sudden lunge from the male behind him before he felt the blunt glans shoving into him. His body clamped down tightly while he was forced forward and the tapered tip of the oryx's cock was pushed into his throat. The goat's dark split lips rubbed right against the sheath and he could feel his chin nearly brushing against the balls. His slippery saliva coated the length and then he was pulled back and felt the cock shifting along his passage. The hips rolled and pushed him forward against as inch after thick inch was forced into his body. The glans dragged and pulled along his passage in a caress that teased as well as made him ache from how wide he was stretched. He kicked his cloven hooves out at the air as a curved chest and belly pressed down along the length of his spine. He nearly pulled off Creole's cock as he felt blunt teeth clamp down against the nape of his neck before the hips drew back again.

The hot slippery precum was oozing into him and coated his passage. It dribbled out and then was forced around the cock in a wet mess. His own belly was stained with his arousal as he humped helplessly into the air each time the cock tip pushed right over his prostate. Through it all Creole's eager shaft slid in and out of his muzzle. Sometimes it was because of the male that thrust behind him forced him forwards and sometimes it was because the cream and tan hips rolled back and forth. His throat bobbed with each swallow as he tried to keep from drooling around the edges of his lips. He was nearly yanked off the swollen shaft when he felt something yanking on his head. No, not on his head, hands gripped his horns and pulled his head back before forcing it forwards again.

The little goat's body arched up as he was hammered from both ends. Creole drove himself forward in a short buck and the male behind him bucked until Thomas could feel the swollen balls bumping against his own. It made him squirm and twist in midair. His hooves scrabbling as he tried to rub his own cock against his belly. He was trapped, bound, held by the simple virtue of the fact that his hooves couldn't reach the ground. The thrill it sent through him went deeper then words could convey. He bathed in the sensations while he bucked his hips back and tried to force his lips down lower. His greedy mouth suckled and pulled around the red shaft until he was pulled back by the hips behind him. His walls clamped tightly around the cock and tried to stop it from pulling too far out. The hot drool of precum only made it easier and increased the sensations that started to make it harder for him to think of anything except the music and the pleasure.

The little goat started to work his head in short slow movements that were allowed by the pounding hips. The thrusts soon were followed by the sound of flesh hitting flesh as the orbs hit against his own each time the tip was forced deep inside of him. His slippery walls flexed and teased around the girth, pulling and suckling about it while his muzzle was impaled. His breathing came out in harsh bursts that were cut off each time the cock tip shoved itself into his throat. He didn't know anything except the constant movements that set him on edge and made him arch his back up to try and take the other male deeper and further. Thomas squeezed his eyes shut as he muffled feral sounding bleats and cries as the steady movements pushed him closer to the edge. His body trembling with pleasure while he shifted his legs to either side of the strange male's hips and found his muzzle suddenly assaulted with a short hard burst of thrusts.

His nose was shoved against the sheath over and over again. Each push jostled him and made him struggle to breath around the boned cock as his master loomed over him. The thick fingers dug in against his shoulders and tugged him forward so the final thrust was deep inside the hot red throat. He couldn't even cry out as he felt the pulse a second before the hot thick wave of seed poured into him. He swallowed and gulped the thick sticky stuff that spilled out in ropes and strands. Some of it escaped, some of it spilled out and oozed along the edges of his muzzle while he struggled to take it all in. He didn't quite manage it and Creole's hips suddenly yanked backwards to pull his jerking cock free so that the last few splashes splattered over his dark muzzle in pearly ropes. The strands marred his fur as the little goat dropped his head and sucked in breaths as fast as he could. The world scented sharply with his master's pleasure.

The male behind him only gave a short firm buck as warning, not even enough to send him over the edge as he felt the tip swelling open inside of him. It grew wider and wider, doubling and then tripling its girth while his walls strained and squeezed tightly around it. Thomas cried out and felt the balls mashing up against his own before the hot jet of cum spilled into him. The pressure of it splattered in deep while his upper body dropped down, released of Creole's hold. His hands held his upper body up, while the strange male gripped his hips and groaned as he emptied himself into the goat. The hot flood overfilled his small body rapidly as he hung his head down to catch his breath. His cock still twitched against his belly, hard and glistening with strands of precum.

It took him several long moments to recover himself, even if his body screamed for release. The oryx dropped down to his knees so when Thomas looked up it was into the endless dark eyes that peered at him. The gaze caught him and held him in place before the fingers moved to slip under his damp chin. He didn't fight as his head was turned to one side to look behind him and the male that had chosen to claim him.

Gold. Golden fur and hide that color of a newly minted coin. A pale mane fell along the arched neck in a white froth that tickled along the upper chest and the forelock fell over the almost dainty head. The palomino pony lifted his head with a shiver and the thick supple lips curved up in an almost shy smile. The dark brown eyes caught Thomas', but he didn't need to look into them to see the truth. The form was familiar. As familiar as a dream, as familiar as a well loved memory. He knew without looking down that the cock would be pink and heavy, he knew that the orbs would be a slightly darker gold then the rest of him. The pony he had become at the summer ball stood behind him whole and independent. He was an entity unto himself.

"You have work ta do, chere, and pleasure ta give." Creole's voice whispered softly in his ear. "Time for life ta begin anew."

He stared at the gathered creatures that watched him with hungry eager eyes. Their bodies the bodies of gods long gone and demons half dreamt. Shades of remembered pleasure and nights spent in carnal delights that gave them shape. A night Thomas had been drawn into, to give his form life of its own or, perhaps, to be trapped within it.