FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Author's Note: the following story is intended for audiences of age, and may contain acts of yiffery including, but not limited to, sexual acts between two characters of different species, between males, semi-inanimate transformation, and yiffing a machine-type-thingy. If any or all of this makes you want to scream in anger, or you're not of age to read this anyway, get out of my sight...infidel! If not, please read and enjoy...

Special thanks to my mate, Tym, for having faith in me and getting me to try new things, weird though they may be. I love you, darling. Thanks for the inspiration. And, all references to machinery are (c) Harley-Davidson as well.

FEEDBACK always welcome to: [email protected]

Horsepower ©MMIV, MMV Whyte Yoté

It was the first thing to come to his mind when he woke up this morning and slammed his fist down onto the snooze button of his alarm clock. He couldn't help but think about it as he brushed his teeth and showered. He consciously avoided it, turning into the kitchen with his head directed away and whistling a disjointed tune. It bored into the back of his head as he made breakfast, from just beyond the kitchen wall. And now, as he sat at the table, alone and drinking his morning tea, he had a direct line of sight to it, sitting on the glass-topped coffee table in the living room.

It was mocking him.

Sitting there, unmoving in its own little inanimate way, it had the distinct power to unnerve him and make him want to scream at the top of his lungs. The newspaper was no good; each time he read an article, words like organomechanical and anthromobile would come into his mind unbidden. There was only one single photograph, and that's what drove him crazy the most.

The thing was a small brochure from a company called TransforMotors, and it had been foremost in his thoughts for the past week. The jackal had cursed himself for venting to people he hardly knew, people he had thought probably didn't want to hear about his problems in the first place. But the arrival of the brochure had both shaken him and made him suspicious, if not a bit thankful. If his online friends had been responsible for that, then apparently his well-being meant more to them than he had previously thought.

Lish's social life existed entirely online. Not one to smoke or frequent the bar scene, the jackal elected to socialize from the relative safety of his home and computer. He had quite a large cadre of people, some he hardly talked to and others whom he could call best friends. There had not been any serious relationships for many reasons: not a single one lived in the same state as he, and Lish was far too shy to even consider anything more serious than the occasional online tryst. He told himself he was satisfied with that, but in the depths of his consciousness a profound loneliness gnawed.

It had been a particularly hard day at work; he had labored for weeks on his latest proposal, only to lose what would have been a lucrative design deal with a well-known technology corporation. Not only was he underbid by their rival across town, he had received a thorough dressing-down by his boss, not to mention the missed chance at a five-figure bonus from the contract. Needless to say, the jackal was depressed. He had decided to make himself a drink.

The first cocktail was just the beginning, and he had found himself imbibing willingly and heavily. By the time he was scheduled to be online for an Internet Poker game with his friends, he had been what could only be described as "sloshed." During the course of the game it had become more and more difficult to keep the frustrations of his life to himself, and they found their way into the conversation. Eventually his complaints could no longer be ignored, and someone had asked why he was in such a bitchy mood. In a moment of insanity, he now thought, he had poured out his heart and soul to his friends: how he had no family and just a small group of coworkers, his apartment wouldn't allow pets, and he couldn't find a decent guy because they were all brand-slave assholes who wouldn't even give his tall, slim, booky appearance a second glance. It was all true, and he had regretted saying it the second he had pressed the ENTER key.

And that was what he could remember. The rest had been revealed in a note attached to the brochure which had come in the mail two days after the poker game. There was no return

address, and the note had been typed anonymously. Even now it sat tucked safely inside the front cover, its contents memorized by the jackal. I hate to see a friend so lonely and bogged down by life when he could be having so much fun, the note had said. These people may be able to help you get what you need. Lish couldn't bring himself to believe he had actually admitted his bondage and mechanical fetishes to his coworkers. But the more he looked at it, the surer he became.

The small brochure begged to be read again and finally, when his box of Cheerios could hide it no longer, he broke.

"Fine, you little bastard," he snarled, skulking across the linoleum to retrieve the evil paper. Snatching it up, he walked back to his place at the table and sat down, opening the tri-folded flaps and revealing the only picture in the brochure. It was all he needed to do; what the TransforMotors Corporation did was more than clearly illustrated.

The photograph was a three-quarter view of the rear end of a convertible. Its chrome shone brightly amidst a sea of coppery-red paint. It was exactly the color of fox fur, and rightly so: it was evident that this car had a lot of vulpine running through its veins. Though not directly visible, the front end was styled with triangular flares on each side of the cowl, and the front end itself sloped and narrowed gently as it neared the grille, which was a mass of black. As the paint approached the bottom it lightened and blended into a warm cream color that covered the car from its waistline down to the wheels. One could describe it as the color of underbelly-fur.

The only visible headlight was held by what looked to be a hand, clutching it with claws extended. It blended into the front fenders that ran into the body of the car like arms. Likewise, the rear fenders flared as if the car were tensed on its haunches and ready to pounce. Odd formations that were reminiscent of feet extended from the slopes of the fenders and ended in pointed triple-lensed taillights that looked like claws on spread toes. The one crowning feature, and the one that stood out the most, was a long, floofy foxtail hanging proudly from the antenna mounted on the right rear quarter panel. Its coloring was identical to the vehicle's with the exception of a band of black fur separating the copper body from the cream tip.

It was a perfect blend of fur and machinery. Yet it was only the top of the iceberg compared with what TransforMotors was offering its clients, for a price. The brochure was vague at best, making Lish think that if someone wanted a "custom" vehicle, as they were called, he or she would have to deal directly with the dealership. Just thinking about setting foot in a place like that simultaneously scared and excited him. The fact that this might be just what he needed to improve his dull life had crossed his mind multiple times, but he doubted something as extreme as this was necessary. Nevertheless, he found himself deeply aroused from the picture of the convertible...and he wasn't even attracted to foxes.

He put the brochure down and looked between his legs, seeing the pink head of his maleness poking needfully through the folds of his robe. He spread his legs and allowed the robe to slide away from his body, hanging limply off his shoulders. Taking his cock in hand, he stroked lightly behind the head. His body responded immediately; his heart beat at his temples and his calves tensed as his toes curled on the linoleum floor. A large drop of precum issued from the tip and dripped onto his fingers, something that almost never happened unless Lish was extremely horny.

Fully erect at ten inches now, the jackal took hold of the base of his shaft and squeezed gently. He could not afford to unsheathe his knot now; the result would be at least twenty minutes of wasted time while he waited to deflate. More pre drained from him, forming a small, slippery trail down his length, coating his pads and making the pawing easier. He could choose anything from a slow, hard stroke to a lightning-quick, feathery motion...this morning, he decided, anything would work.

With his fist, he drew up past the head with every finger closed around his hardness, and came back down, allowing his cock to penetrate his hand as it would a tight tailhole. He shuddered the first time at the pure, overpowering sensation and found it difficult to maintain such a tortuous speed.

The clouds that had dominated the morning dissipated and sunlight splashed into the kitchen, giving it a warm glow that lifted Lish's spirits and increased his arousal all the more. Colors grew around him, and the red paint of the convertible caught his attention again. He stared at the foxtail hanging from the bright chrome antenna and thought about what other machines-if they could be called that-TransforMotors could produce, sparking a long-denied desire within him.

The jackal raised his legs and planted his feet on the edge of the table on either side of his bowl of cereal, placing the brochure between his ankles and balancing it there so he could see the photograph, only a foot or so away from his nose. He yearned to pound his fist furiously over his doggish member, but he kept his strokes slow, his hips jerking against the chair in which he was sitting.

As he concentrated on the rising pleasure in his loins, Lish tried to remember what else the brochure had talked about. There hadn't been much in the way of specifics, but he recalled a section entitled "Special Requests" that had caught his attention. Among the short list of features was a package that could be added on that enhanced the "personal recreational preferences of the customer, providing a truly unique and pleasurable companion" for those who wanted the option. It was listed as the most popular add-on, and by the wording alone the jackal could piece together what "personal recreation" meant.

Looking at the car again, panting hard and sweat from the effort stinging his eyes, he wondered just how far he could go, should he choose to continue with this. Images of furs and wheeled machines intermeshed in his mind, each one more racy than the next. The fox convertible...a Corvette with cheetah spots...a Mack truck with bulldog jowls...even the silly idea of a mid-1980s Volkswagen with bunny ears and a tail out back served to drive him further into pleasure, and his balls itched with need. For the first time, he was actively fantasizing about one of the few things that excited him; he could never explain it, but he was too far gone to care.

Tongue lolling, he reached his free hand down between his legs and roughly shoved a claw into his tailhole. It was done without thinking, and the pain was the push needed to finish him off. As he humped into his slowly-pumping hand, one last image froze in his mind: a huge, auspicious chrome exhaust pipe, emitting a sound so familiar it was copyrighted. The low, mellifluous rumble seemed to vibrate his being just from the thought, and with one final downstroke he gripped his sheath below the still-covered knot and squeezed. His feet kicked out and the brochure fell onto the floor. Lish drove his finger far into his hole and moaned out loud as the first spurts of white fluid jetted onto his neck and upper chest. He threw his head back over the chair, riding the waves and feeling the remainder of his chest coated with jackalcum until he felt warmth pool in his fist.

Slowly he came back down to earth and reopened his eyes. His chest, a light beige surrounded by the darker, sand-colored fur of the rest of his body, was soaked through and matted, already tacky and starting to dry. Standing up, the canine wiped his hand on his thigh and licked the rest off, grimacing at the bitter taste so early in the day. After washing his dishes and setting the kitchen to rights, he doffed the robe and walked, nude, to the bathroom to clean up for the second time that morning.

The shower was hot, and well-deserved. Lish took a long time, letting the near-scalding water saturate him to the bone and eradicate the scent of semen embedded in his fur. He also took a long time to think about what he had felt there in the kitchen just a few minutes earlier. As logical as he was about making big decisions, there was no denying that he was within shouting distance of making a dream come true. He wouldn't allow himself to believe it would actually happen, but one decision was already made: today he would drive to the address on the TransforMotors brochure and see what they had to offer, and if it was for him.

He toweled off quickly and ran a brush down the length of his body, paying special attention to his tail, which tended to accrue mats and look scragglier than the rest of him. A polo shirt and loose-fitting khakis were the order of the day, and soon he was on the road in his little hatchback, humming to the radio with the dubious brochure sitting next to him on the passenger seat.

As he followed the directions given to him by an Internet map Website, the jackal found himself progressing farther into the industrial part of town. Residential neighborhoods gave way to a commercial thoroughfare, restaurants and retailers. As he drove on, the shops became exceedingly seedy and unfamiliar. His heart skipped a beat as he crossed over to the other side of the tracks, a metaphor that became tangible the more he looked out the window.

Now he was in a maze of warehouses and steel buildings. When he came to an intersection, he could make out the steam coming from the pipes of a nearby oil refinery, and it became like a compass point to him. He followed the directions turn-for-turn, and when he strained to see the numbers on a nondescript white building, he couldn't believe it was the right address. Parking the car and getting out, he looked at the long, factory-style construction. It would take some doing to get back home; he felt like he had driven into another world.

Lish approached the door, matching the addresses and noting the marquee on the door: "TransforMotors, Inc." He pushed, and his entrance was accompanied by a soft chiming. The lobby, which consisted of two couches , a desk and absolutely no reading material, was empty. Within moments, however, a receptionist appeared from around a corner and placed herself behind the desk.

"Good afternoon, sir. How can I help you?" asked the lynx in a rather high but sincere voice.

The jackal cleared his throat self-consciously, and said, "I, um...need to speak to someone about...well...making a purchase?" He didn't quite know how to describe what it was he needed to do.

The receptionist looked at a large calendar on the desk and a frown furrowed her brow. Her tufted ears lay back a little as she said, "I'm not showing you as having an appointment, Mister..."

"Lish...just Lish. But I don't have an appointment. I didn't realize I had to make one; I just have this." The jackal held up the brochure with the note still inside the front cover. The lynx took one look at it and her expression changed entirely to one of recognition.

"Oh, a referral! Well, no wonder you weren't on the schedule. That's no problem, Mr. Lish. If you would just have a seat for a moment, I'll get Anthony out here right away to help you."

Lish was grateful that he had brought the brochure. "Thank you," he said, walking over to the couch and sitting down. The receptionist briskly turned the corner and her heels clacked quickly down the hall. Soft classical music emanated from hidden speakers, and the jackal leaned back against the cushions, drawn into his own thoughts.

He jumped a little when a figure appeared from the opposite corner and approached him with small, quick steps. With right arm extended, he took Lish's hand and shook it vigorously. "Hello," the badger said in a quiet voice that seemed out of place compared with his vice-like handshake, "you must be the client Cindy told me about, the referral?"

"I guess you could say that," the jackal replied, nonplussed.

"Lish, isn't it? Do you mind if I'm informal? I find Mr. and Mrs. a bit demeaning in a place like this."

"Sure. And you're Anthony?"

"That's me." The jackal found himself very comfortable and disarmed by the short, stout badger's tone and demeanor. This was no high-pressure sales pitch; this was a guy-on-guy talk, no nonsense and no bullshit. Lish liked him already. The badger was dressed in a smart navy suit with thin pinstripes, a matching navy shirt and a white tie that seemed to be part of the band of white fur running the length of his head and neck. The jackal had a good foot and a half on Anthony, which made him feel like he was the one in control. "Would you like to take a look at the showroom?"

"You bet," came the reply, the jackal barely able to contain his eagerness.

The badger led Lish down a long hallway, the sides of which were lined with unmarked white doors. After what seemed to be a half-mile of walking, Anthony stopped at a door that looked just like all the others and turned the knob. The two stepped through and into a large, sunlit room. Light streaked in through one wall, which was basically a glass atrium connected to the building proper. Potted plants littered the floor along the wall, giving the room at least some life. The floor was a highly polished navy tile with white grout...the perfect surface on which to park a vehicle. The only problem was that, in the entire space, there wasn't a single display.

"This...is our showroom," gestured Anthony with a wave of his arm.

"Yeah, but...aren't there supposed to be things on display in here?"

Anthony turned to Lish and gave him a serious look. "Here at TransforMotors, Lish, we build custom biomachinery." The jackal shuddered visibly as he heard that word, and doubted the badger could have missed it. "Every client has his or her own wishes, and we build for them on a one-of-a-kind basis...so we have nothing to display. If we mass-produced our products, there would be no uniqueness to them anymore. They would be...how should I say it? Normal."

The jackal nodded in understanding, and Anthony continued.

"We were lucky enough to get permission to photograph the car you saw in that brochure. I trust it was to your liking, and piqued your curiosity?"

"Yes, very much so," muttered the jackal, thinking you have no idea how piqued I was.

"I thought so. Now, Lish, let's see what we can do for you, shall we? I need you to answer some questions."

"Okay."

"Why did you come here today?"

"Actually, my friends kind of sent me here. I made the mistake of telling them how much my life sucks, and they took me seriously."

The badger scowled a little. "I highly doubt they would take you anything but seriously. And it wasn't your friends who sent you here; you drove yourself and parked your tail down on that couch. You want something."

Lish was taken aback at the badger's blatancy, but he had to admit that most of what he was hearing was true. He had wanted to come here, and he couldn't deny that his sticky chest this morning hadn't been the result of just an overactive imagination. "Yes, I do want something," he said, a bit resigned.

"The only problem," said the badger with a hint of a smile on his muzzle, "is finding out exactly what it is you want...and delivering that to you. Now, what are you seeking?" At that moment, a row of xenon track spotlights came on with a purple flash and illuminated the center of the showroom floor. "Are you looking for a daily driver, something with a sporty look, a garage beauty?"

Lish thought back to the note, and asked himself: what, exactly did he need? He knew a lot of what he wanted, but did he really need anything? That there was a gaping hole somewhere in his life needing to be filled was evident; choosing the proper way to fill it was a different matter altogether.

"It's perfectly normal to be indecisive, overwhelmed..."

"Or both," finished the jackal with a nervous laugh. Anthony nodded as if he had seen this type of thing countless times before.

"Instead of choosing something right away, it may prove easier to find what you don't want and rule those things out. I see you drove here. You don't want to replace your current vehicle, do you?"

Lish shook his head. "I don't think so. That would be a waste of money just for a car."

The badger frowned. "Well, sir, I certainly don't hope you are considering our products to be a waste of money; after the effort you made to get here, I would consider it a waste of time as well," he remarked, crossing his arms in front of his stocky chest.

"Oh, no!" cried the jackal, defending himself with waves of his arms. "You've got me all wrong. I meant that I like my hatchback. It gets me where I'm going without a lot of trouble, and I don't see why I should replace it. What I need..." he paused, thinking seriously for the first time about what he was about to do. "My friends think I need recreation, and I think they're right," he admitted. "At my age, I don't have a social life because I'm a goody two-shoes. I'm not a wuss; I just happen to have my fun on this side of things. The legal side. I want to have fun, but I don't want to have to sacrifice my lifestyle or health for the sake of it. Do you get what I'm saying?"

"You're lonely, aren't you, Lish?"

There was an uncomfortable silence in the showroom for almost half a minute. Anthony continued to look up at the jackal, who tried to look everywhere else but back at the badger. At length, he threw up his arms in defeat.

"And I'm lonely. And picky. With...interests."

"I know, Lish," the badger almost cooed. "I see clients just like you every day. Just like the salesmen at a BMW dealership see lawyers and doctors and rich assholes every day. I get to know my clientele, and what drives them to, well, drive us, so to speak. What kind of salesman would I be if I didn't understand what you need, even if you can't see it yourself right away?"

Lish processed what Anthony said for a moment, and his eyes cleared again. It was time to stop making this more difficult than it was. "You're right. Pardon my lack of tact, my naïvety and my defensiveness?"

"Sure. Now, if you'll allow me to make a suggestion..."

"Suggest away."

"I think I can give you an example of what you are looking for. Just one thing: who is the last person you remember seeing?"

Lish was perplexed. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Call it a personality test. Anyone you can come up with?"

Trying to sift through his mental archives was more difficult than he thought. What really surprised him was that he couldn't rightly remember anyone he'd seen or interacted with today, yesterday or recently.

"Hurry."

"Okay, okay." Lish hurriedly tried to think of anyone he could remember noticing, and then it hit him. "Um, a horse. Is that all right?"

"Perfect," replied the badger. "If you would just go back to the lobby, Cindy will take care of you for a little while."

"But we aren't finished here, are we?"

"I don't know, Lish. But I have a good feeling." Anthony turned as he finished his vague answer, winked at the jackal, and disappeared behind a frosted-glass door after several long strides. Lish didn't know what was so important about the last person he'd seen.

Lish stood in the empty showroom, looking at the bright pool of light cast on the floor as if waiting for something unexpected to happen. Of course, nothing did, and he shrugged his shoulders and made his way back to the lobby. It was easy, because after going through the same door he had entered by, all he had to do was follow the long white hall to the end.

Cindy greeted him on the other side with a warm smile and a steaming coffee mug that bore the TransforMotors logo. "Thirsty, sir?"

"Actually, yes," said the jackal, taking the offered mug. "You people certainly have a way of doing business."

The lynx perked her ears, following Lish to the sitting area, which was still devoid of entertainment of any kind. "Yes, Anthony takes a lot of pride in his work. I have scones and some fresh fruit, if you're hungry."

"Thank you," Lish said, actually finding himself a bit peckish. The scones were fresh, as was an assortment of tropical fruit, cubed and piled high on a tray. "Does Anthony do all the work around here? I mean, I have a very vague idea what it is you do here, but aren't there other people?" The canine picked up a scone and started gnawing on the edge.

"We have a network of experts," said Cindy, leaning back in her chair and twiddling a pencil in her fingers. "He has very good working relationships with all of them, and everyone pulls together on each project. That's all I'm authorized to say, and all I know anyway."

"That just raises more questions," Lish replied, and the lynx nodded.

"Around here, you learn not to ask after a while."

Lish didn't press the issue, because he couldn't possibly see what good it would do him. Instead he turned his attention to the tray before him. The scones and fruit were indeed fresh, and the jackal lost track of the time, enjoying himself thoroughly with pineapple and passion fruit. He was on his third cup of coffee when a soft chime issued from the Muzak speakers overhead.

A moment later, Anthony fairly burst from the door to the left of the receptionist's desk. He was panting a little, as if he had run all the way from the showroom, or places farther away, and his stubby legs couldn't keep the pace. His tie was a bit undone, his eyes wide, and a bright smile adorned his muzzle as he regained his composure and approached Lish on the couch.

"How did you find our refreshments?"

"Very good and filling. I was so engrossed I had no idea so much time had passed," he said, looking at his watch.

"Good fruit has a way of doing that. Come on; there's something you should see." As Anthony led him down the long white hallway once again, the jackal found his heart beating strongly and fast. He recognized his nervousness, tried to quell it, but gave up when he realized he had every right to be anxious.

The two entered the showroom again, which sat unchanged from when they had left it before. The badger turned to Lish, and the jackal realized he was ringing his hands, just as nervous as he.

"I hope I don't offend you when I say I had a hunch about this one," Anthony said. "Sometimes when a client comes in I just get a feeling about that person, and I have to run with it. Call it creative chaos, but it's the way I work. I just hope my feeling is on track with your life and personality."

"You're telling me you made me something while I was waiting in that room? I find that hard to believe...very hard."

"I understand your doubts, Lish. Usually it takes two days or so to get a product to a client, but I consulted with all the right people to pull this off. I wanted to show you what I came up with before you left today, because I may be in danger of losing you. You're what we like to call 'iffies.'" The badger looked down apologetically. "I really think you would be missing out if you didn't take advantage of this today, and I'm not just trying to sell you a car here."

"I have more respect for you than that," said Lish. "This is just so new to me, I can still hardly believe I'm here."

Anthony's face lit up at once, his playful and positive attitude brought to the front once again. "Believe it, sir. Now, would you like to see the best thing that's ever happened to you?"

"If it sounds that good, I think I have to. Where is it?"

"This is your vehicle, and your choice, Lish. It's up to you to make the decision. Look behind you."

The jackal did so, and was surprised to see a thin stand with a single red button sitting atop it. Somehow it had extended from the floor without making a sound. It invited him, almost addictingly. He sensed this was supposed to be a crucial moment, but it lacked all pomp and flair. There was no right time, so he shrugged helplessly, put a claw to the button and pressed.

A faint hum came from the floor, accompanied by a soft vibration Lish could feel in his toes. It was the sound an elevator would make upon reaching its destination. The jackal could see Anthony grinning out of the corner of his eye, and it bothered him a little. What if he didn't like what he saw? He didn't have long to think, however, when a circular portion of the tile floor separated seamlessly from the rest and started to rise. About three inches of floor were exposed, followed by what turned out to be a glass cylinder about three feet in diameter. It rose steadily and slowly, the humming growing louder as it went.

The cylinder continued to rise from the floor, and gradually its occupant was revealed. What Lish saw made his lungs freeze; something inside his mind finally made a connection. Words failed him, and the only thing he could do as the figure rose out of the floor was clutch his chest and stumble backwards a few steps. His heart felt about to burst from the simultaneous release of all his pent-up anxiety and the shock of seeing what he could only describe as the most beautiful thing he had ever witnessed.

The badger, obviously pleased with Lish's reaction, stepped forward and gripped a chromed handle on the outside of the glass. He pulled it open, sending a cloud of steam billowing over the floor, only to dissipate a moment later. Motioning the figure to come out, he backed up, flicking his attention to and from the jackal, gauging his face. It was all he could do to keep from laughing out loud in joy.

At last there was a reverberant clop-clop as a set of thick hooves planted themselves on the tile. The jackal had backed up so far he was now leaning against a counter, eyes wide, shaking his head. The horse who stood before him wore a sheepish smile, gleaming coffee eyes and little else. He stood at least a head taller than Lish himself, and that was saying a lot. His black hair glistened in the harsh xenon lamps and showed every curve of strong, lean muscle on his bulky body. Ebony hooves supported strong striated legs, with tufts of hair on his ankles. His flowing coppery brown mane was long and ran the length of his back, blending with his equally long tail. The two nubs of his pink nipples were the only light color to adorn his entire body, and the left one had a shiny chrome hoop through it. The final touch was a black studded leather saddle, wrapped tight around his middle and onto his back. Of course, the jackal took all of this in within seconds; after that his eyes set on one place: between the equine's legs, where his large, wrinkled sheath lay above two very ovular testicles, all bathed in short black fuzz.

"Oh...oh my..." stumbled the jackal, finally finding the ability to speak. He finally remembered the reason he had mentioned a horse to Anthony's question: two months ago, a very cute equine had filled his gas tank, and had become that night's fantasy bedfellow.

Anthony put an arm around the gigantic horse, patting him on the side of his solid chest. "Lish, I'd like you to meet Harley, the answer to all your problems." He spoke with confidence, but unbeknownst to the jackal he had his fingers crossed behind his back. Then he turned to the horse and said, "Shake hands, Harley."

Harley put his hand out, and Lish gripped it more out of reflex than anything. The equine's sausage-like fingers almost crushed his own, but he felt an electric shock run the length of his arm. He also thought he could smell the faint odor of gasoline.

"Nice, um, to meet you," the jackal uttered, still in awe. Harley nodded back, obviously an equine of few words.

"Show him the rest, Harley," prodded the badger, and turned Harley to the side. Something Lish hadn't seen before, and the light hadn't exposed, were barely noticeable ghost flames. The color of gunmetal, they ran the length of his sides, from neck to mid-thigh and somehow made Harley look faster while standing still...just like on a car.

Harley completed a full-body turn and stood, hooves planted shoulder-width apart to display himself as best he could. Now his sheath was slightly fuller just from the friction of movement. Lish watched it intently.

"You mean to tell me you came up with this just...today?" the jackal asked. "How?"

Anthony came up to him, putting a finger to his lips. "Shhhhh. Company secret. No telling." The purposefully vague answer seemed to satisfy the stunned canine, rapt as he was at the moment. "Does he look like something you could see in your garage?"

"Or my bed," Lish blurted out. He didn't make a move to take the statement back, though...as far as he was concerned it was the truth. At last his feet became unglued from the floor and he was like a little kid at his first car show, walking circles around Harley, reaching out to touch but always pulling back at the last moment. Anthony watched with thinly-veiled pride.

"I'm glad you like him. I have to say he's one of the most interesting projects I've worked on so far. He's quite the custom ride."

"Ride?" Lish had completely forgotten about that part.

"Don't tell me you think this is all you're getting? Remember, there's a whole other side to Harley you have yet to see. As far as I'm concerned, it's the best part. Are you ready for the reason TransforMotors exists?" The badger took Lish's hand in his and pressed a fob with a single key attached into his shaking palm.

Swallowing hard, his throat now all but parched, Lish croaked, "I certainly hope so. What could possibly be better than this?" He gestured to the perfect onyx stallion only feet away.

"You'll see. But it's your turn."

Lish looked at the badger for a moment, then realized what he needed to do again. He saw three buttons on the fob: one was a silhouette of a lock, the second was a picture of a horse's head, and the third showed a single spoked wheel. Making an educated guess, he pressed the third button and held his breath.

First, nothing happened. All three sat in silence, and Lish thought something might be wrong with the remote. As he looked at Harley, waiting for anything, he thought he would be perfectly happy to take the equine home as he was, bonus or not. Harley snuffled loudly then, and the jackal's attention went back to him. The horse was staring at the ground and shaking his head slightly, as if he were going to sneeze...but he kept on snuffing and making low whinnies of frustration.

Then it happened. It came out in one loud burst: Harley sneezed, a short, raucous sound that echoed off the showroom walls. His legs bowed simultaneously, and the horse let out a tortured moan whose tone was unmistakable. The black sheath filled like a balloon, letting a couple inches of his cock emerge. He sneezed again, and the moan was louder; his legs buckled and easily three more inches were exposed and quickly hardening. Lish was matching him moan for moan, and inch for inch. His khakis were instantly tight and confining. A final sneeze, accompanied by a flurry of mist and a gasp of surprised pleasure, brought the horse to his knees, fully erect at fourteen inches and already dripping.

Concerned, Lish moved forward to help, but Anthony motioned him back. "Not until he's finished. Don't worry, it's what he's built to do."

Struggling for air and wheezing like an out-of-shape marathoner, Harley panted on all fours, sweat forming on his hair and glossing it under the lights. When he looked up, Lish saw something about his face that didn't seem right. He couldn't place it at first, but then it occurred to him: something's growing out of his forehead! When he looked to other places on Harley's body, he could see the same thing. The top and sides of his head, his neck, chest and back were rippling, as were his legs. His cock stayed erect and bobbing, but it had begun to turn silver at the sheath. The jackal was afraid that the horse was being hurt from the inside out, but one look at the smile on his muzzle was all he needed to feel relieved.

The change seemed to burst all at once from Harley's muscle-bound body, making it seem soft and weak in comparison. Chrome and black pushed back the hair and skin on his head and over his spine, and his chest bulged out even more. His hands and hooves were drawn together as if by magnets, and there was a soft wet sound as they touched and seemed to merge, effectively rendering Harley helpless and writhing on the floor, dripping precum and saliva. The hard surfaces of his nails melted and enlarged, growing and becoming more round. His arms thinned at the elbows and the muscles disappeared, leaving them as straight as tubes, thicker on the bottom than on top. Black hair receded and thinned, exposing a shiny aluminum fork with shock absorbers. Where his hands had been was a rapidly forming wheel.

Meanwhile, Lish's hand had inadvertently made its way to his cock and was stroking its length slowly against the fabric of his pants. His attention was so taken that he didn't even notice Anthony watching arousedly as well, petting himself between the legs. The two stared as Harley's legs dwindled to nothing, his hooves combined and swelled into a thick black piece of rubber. It grew and out of its middle came a shining aluminum wheel, cast solid and studded. Brake rotors and calipers soon appeared out of nowhere.

Harley's body went rigid now, the only sources of motion being his wildly dark eyes and heaving chest. A black piece of metal broke through his chest just below the ribcage, digging into the floor and lifting the horse-thing at an angle until he was on one side. The now fully-formed kickstand locked into place and set the stage for the rest of the transformation. He hung suspended just above the floor as if he were being crucified.

Perspiration fairly poured from the horse's black frame, mixing with the clear puddle of pre on the floor. His breath was raspy and became deeper by the second, more and more like a throaty rumble than gasping. Chrome crept up the length of his horsehood, solidifying it as it went, making it shiny, reflecting images of a proud badger and shocked jackal.

Harley's forehead bulged upward, as did two lumps just in front of his ears. The skin stretched to an impossible length, then silently parted, bloodlessly, to release a five-inch reflector optics headlamp, followed by two smaller satellite passing lamps. As the last of the hair retreated from the equine's arms, turn signals popped from each side of the fork. After the headlamp had freed itself from his head, the skin closed up again right around its base. As Lish watched, a black brake line snaked from his thick neck and connected with the fendered, profile-laced wheel that had been his arms and hands.

Lish jumped back when the horse uttered a long, forceful neigh. Harley's eyes bulged from the changes but still shined with life and enjoyment despite what he was going through. Either it must have been extremely painful or pleasurable beyond measure. Lish guessed-and hoped-it was the latter.

Something snapped in Harley's back, just above his tail, and the skin there dimpled up and twisted into a new, impossible angle. The saddle had grown smaller, its strap having already disappeared into black horsehair. It lengthened and became smoother to fit the shape of one rider comfortably, two if needed. The lumps on his back and forehead were growing like simultaneous tumors, stretching the skin grotesquely taught until it was almost transparent, like a membrane. Then Harley's back and chest gave way, ripping open to reveal the glowing surfaces underneath.

An instrument panel popped out of Harley's spine, followed by the dark, painted teardrop that was a gas tank. From his chest was exposed a display of raw power and machinery: Lish watched, practically drooling, as the horse's chest grew around and eventually resealed over a gleaming black-and-chrome Twin Cam engine. The diagonally opposed cams nestled half-in, half-out of Harley, with only the necessary parts showing. Hoses, cables and screws appeared everywhere, connecting the system. Looking closer, the jackal was able to read the forming letters on the air cleaner cover: Sequential Port Injection. He shuddered.

The final stages of Harley's transformation were both the quickest and most erotic. His long tail, raised up when his spine had reformed itself, had somehow become frozen in an arc above his rear tire. The hairs started to grow and twist as if around an invisible mold, snaking their way and shaping themselves into a fender, complete with a taillight and license plate mount. A ripple shimmered through the hair-shape and what was left was a shiny black piece of metal, adorned with silver ghost flames. Lish looked from the fender to the gas tank and noticed a similar paint job.

Last but not least, Harley's long, dripping cock was rapidly solidifying and becoming chromed. When the flared head was finally as shiny as a hood ornament, a line appeared and made its way from his urethra to the base of his sheath. Lish cried out when he saw the cock split in half like a piece of string cheese, but by now Harley was enjoying himself. The twin members lengthened forward, attaching themselves against the engine as they went. One of them turned down almost immediately; the other twisted like a serpent around to the front of the engine, turned around and came back to meet its brother at the rear tire, flaring halfway down. The result was a dual-exhaust system from either end. Both pipes were still dripping.

There were a few more pops and dings as all of Harley's parts got to where they were supposed to go, and the showroom was silent. The only difference was the addition of one magnificent equine motorcycle. Having just witnessed the birth of a beautiful machine, and feeling very much like the kid in the proverbial candy store, Lish once again circled the horse-turned-motorcycle, ogling every curve, every inch of paint and chrome. Harley smiled proudly as he watched the jackal approach with a hand cautiously held forward, shaking, and ran the length of the saddle. Both of them emitted separate groans.

"Oooohhh, that feels good!" said the horse, startling Lish by speaking for the first time. "Do it again!"

Lish could feel through his fingers a gentle pulsing rhythm, and the leather of the saddle was warm to the touch. Harley was truly a living, breathing piece of machinery. He ran the palm of his hand over the saddle again, this time applying a little additional pressure and making more of a stroking motion. It wandered up over the instruments of the gas tank and down onto the rear fender as well. Harley shook visibly, snorting and breathing raggedly.

"Did you know you're messing up my pristine floor?" asked Anthony in a mock-put upon manner as he walked up to the two. "Maybe you should take him for a test drive. No way to know how he'll act on the road until you do." The badger was still acting salesman-like, but now there was little doubt that a sale had just been made, without the aid of putting pen to paper. He knew that after Harley's "test drive" there would be no doubt in the jackal's mind.

Lish swallowed hard and dryly, his throat clicking as he held the left handlebar in one hand, the key fob with its single key in the other. Harley tried to crane his neck to see the jackal's face, but his movement was now a bit more limited.

"Please?" the horse-cycle asked in a voice so soft and silky it could have melted the hardest of hearts.

"Let's, uh...see what this baby can do," said Lish dreamily, feeling like he was having an out-of-body experience. He looked at Anthony, who only winked and walked to one end of the showroom, throwing a latch and sliding open two large glass doors. The sounds of the city and a cool breeze fluttered past the jackal's ears. The road was calling him, it seemed. He drew one leg over the saddle, settling his weight evenly. He could feel Harley's pulse through his crotch, which still throbbed just as strongly.

"Be careful. The both of you," the badger said.

"We will," Harley replied, in a more confident state of mind now that he had someone to ride him. Directing his head forward, a small amber windscreen appeared out of his forehead like an ejected CD, folding over his eyes to protect them. He bit a crossbar in between the front forks, and his teeth melted to it, increasing the strength and stability of the front end. Moments later the horse's voice came over a small speaker embedded into the instrument panel, startling the already nervous canine.

"Do you know how to start me?" he asked in an efficient manner.

"No, not really," replied Lish, finally starting to come back down to reality.

"Just put the key in the ignition and turn it, then put the clutch in and push the starter button." The jackal did as he was told, and when he pushed the little red start button on the right handlebar there was a stuttering cough, followed by a roar that immediately settled into a gut-trembling bass rumble. Harley shook from the vibration; his cock-cum-tailpipes spewed clouds of fresh blue-grey smoke. Seeing this, Anthony waved his arm wildly to usher them out of the building. Lish lifted the throttle and crept outside in first gear.

White light and the smell of leaves and concrete met his nose. The horse-cycle beneath him was a ball of pent-up energy just waiting to lay rubber to pavement. Harley stretched his neck as much as he could, the natural urge for speed manifesting itself strongly for his maiden run.

"Let's go, let's go, let's GO!" he yelled in the tinny speaker-voice, and Lish smiled at his eagerness. The jackal turned the throttle a couple of times, revving the engine into a frenzy and feeling ready to have some fun as well.

"Hang on, then."

"No, you hang on."

"What-" Lish started to say, but the words were ripped from his muzzle as Harley roared, rattling windows in the nearby buildings. His fat rear tire spun and sent out fresh, putrid smoke before catching and launching them both onto the road. Wind whipped around the jackal, pinning his ears to his head and making his tail drag stiffly behind him. Harley had taken over the driving, stretching his shocks and warming his tires as they sped through the deserted industrial complex, tearing around corners and ignoring every stop sign placed in their way.

"Where are we going?" shouted Lish over the noise of the wind, trying as best as he could to keep insects from flying into his mouth.

"The highway. I wanna go faster!" the equine replied like a speed-addicted teenager. Somehow he knew exactly where he was going, and Lish surmised that Anthony had given him directions before the reveal in the showroom. He had no sooner thought that when Harley skidded around one last corner and the "good" side of the tracks came into view. The cycle jumped them, landing hard, but Harley's whoop of joy indicated all was well. The jackal just held on for dear life, enjoying the adrenaline rush and the vibrating machine just inches from his maleness.

Screaming through traffic, the pair rounded one last turn and came to the freeway on-ramp. Lish took the opportunity to lift his ankle, shifting Harley roughly into second gear. The kickback was enormous, accompanied by the screech of rubber and a stuttering change in revs that began to climb again almost immediately. The redline was reached in seconds, and as they merged into the driving lane Harley's engine settled into overdrive at a satisfied 2500rpm.

At seventy miles per hour the wind-chafed jackal had to crouch behind the handlebars, but he found no escape from the elements. Carefully he reached into the pocket of his khakis, which billowed out behind him, and pulled a pair of sunglasses onto his head, happy to have remembered them. Sitting back up he found the ride much more enjoyable, taking the relatively lax attitude of highway traffic to fully appreciate Harley's performance.

The ride to the interstate had been nothing short of incredible. Lish had driven motorcycles before, even big hogs like Harley, but nothing had even come close to what he had felt just now. The exhilaration, the power, and most of all the freedom...his friends had been absolutely right, and knew him far better then even he knew himself. He felt bad for thinking little of them, realizing his relationships were more precious than he had given them credit for. Here, on this machine, life in hand, he felt that injection of vitality sought after by so many yet attained by a precious few. The sound was music to his ears.

"How do you like it so far?" shouted Harley through his speaker, and the jackal was surprised to find he could hear the equine very well.

"It's wonderful!" was all he could think to say. He had turned his attention to the road again, and feeling the tremors from the 115-hp engine was doing wonders to keep him erect and squirming inside his pants. His palmpads were sweaty and slippery on the leather handlebars.

"Anthony said you would wanna try out my custom feature. He installed it just for you; he said you would like it a lot," Harley piped up.

Lish was perplexed. How could Anthony know enough about him to install a customized feature? He had pretty much gotten used to the unexpected, so he called back, "Okay, fine. How do I turn it on?"

"It's supposed to do the opposite, silly. You're already halfway there!"

"What does that mean?" asked the jackal, missing the double entendre.

"Just push the black button on the left handlebar, the one marked 'S.O.'"

Shrugging, Lish pushed the button. Suddenly, Harley shifted down and launched forward, quickly attaining and passing ninety miles per hour. The surrounding vehicles disappeared behind them. Harley leaned into a gentle corner that would have been tame at regular speeds, but the g-force pulled the jackal to the outside. Then he veered right onto an off-ramp and slowed just enough to take a turn onto a dirt frontage road without skidding into oblivion. Dust and gravel showered the side of the road, but Harley kept his speed governed right around thirty.

Momentarily taking his eyes off the road, the jackal said, "Nothing's happening."

"Unzip your fly."

"Say what?"

"Just do it; you'll see."

It slowly dawned on Lish that the feature Anthony had built into Harley was one of the "extras" mentioned in the brochure. Not only was the horse-turned-hog a sight for the eyes and a pleasure to the touch, he was also useful in the one other, fundamental aspect that had been lacking from his life. Having come to this understanding, he was now more than happy to undo his pants and see what Harley had in store for him.

With the equine steering on his own, his fly came open and he pulled his pants and underwear down in the front with both hands, freeing his cock and gasping at the wind that swirled crazily around it. He gripped his flesh and gave himself a few cursory strokes, and realized when his eyes focused that the horn of the saddle in front of him had a dent in it, just an inch and a half wide. Curious, he touched it tentatively, then drew his finger back when it was almost pulled into the pliable, almost liquid surface. The dent, only visible as a darker place among dark leather, felt warm, undoubtedly from the heat of Harley's engine...and blood. When the dent began to grow from the saddle like an alien tentacle, the jackal made to back away reflexively and found that, sitting on a motorcycle, he had nowhere to go.

"Harley, what is that?" he asked with a tremor in his voice, but he received no answer. The tentacle with its small, round opening inched its way forward and closer...to his maleness.

"Harley! Harley, please answer m-ooooohhh, God damn!" His sentence was obliterated by a whispered curse as the tentacle, which Lish now understood was an orifice, touched the tip of his erection and swallowed all ten inches to the sheath. It was like being bathed in soft velvet; the sensations of skin and heat and Harley's pulse surrounded him. The jackal arched his back, hunching over a little, trying to catch his breath. The horse did nothing but smile.

The orifice grew tight and began to recede into the saddle again, this time dragging Lish's cock with it. He couldn't release its grip on him even if he had wanted to, but he could see no reason why he would want that wonderful thing to let him go. He was drawn forward and down into a crouched position, his arms encircling Harley's sides just above the hot engine, his legs clutching the horse's lower body. The jackal's hips touched the saddle, and he could feel his cock pressed up against a hard object, separated from him by a thin membrane, that was hot and vibrating. He guessed it was one of the cams, where the most work was being done to propel Harley down the road. He swore again under his breath, getting a bit of rogue saliva on Harley's gas tank.

After a few moments the road straightened out and stretched far into a grid of square cornfields and grazing land. Neither knew where they were going, but neither cared much at that moment. Harley accelerated into the straight, topping forty and approaching fifty, his engine rasping low and the increasing vibration sending waves of pleasure to Lish's body through his most sensitive part. He started to pant despite the cooling breeze, finding it nearly impossible to hump farther into the machine but still trying, gripping Harley's sides even harder. He did not notice the white fluid leaking steadily from the cycle's tailpipes.

Harley shifted down and rocketed forward, hitting seventy. He blipped his throttle a few times along the way, hearing a moan every time he did so. As he shifted back up he could feel the jackal's claws digging into his ribs, the sweat from his palms matting the hair there.

It was very hard to make the feeling last and avoid going headlong over the edge to climax. As his jackalhood was teased by Harley's revs, he closed his eyes without worrying about running off the road. A childhood memory came to him. When he was seven years old, his mother had taken him to the neighborhood pool, which had a kiddie pool as well as a hot tub and sauna. After much begging and promising to be a good boy, his mother had relented and let him get into the hot tub with the "big guys." There had been jets spewing bubbles from the bottom up, and the young jackal found it felt very good down between his legs, and made his "thing" hard.

Soon he discovered it felt much better if he used his hand to keep the head of his cock just above the jets, where it could get the most bubbles. He kept looking around at the others in the tub, watching for any indication they knew what he was doing, but no one was the wiser. It got to the point where it was all he could do to act normal, and when the pressure built to a critical level and he felt the eye-crossing ecstasy of his first orgasm he kept stock still while his little prepubescent cock twitched in his hand.

Of course, he was guilt-ridden as soon as he had finished, and he had exited the hot tub immediately feeling like he had done something dirty. Nevertheless, the experience had become one of his most frequent fantasies, and as he got older he would add to it, each time making the dream more elaborate. It had satisfied his urges many a night and now, as he sat in broad daylight getting pleasure from a half-mechanical horse, he was feeling that same taboo excitement without any of the letdown. His knot burned and swelled within Harley's unrelenting grip, the throbbing pistons just inches from his shaft sending him closer to the end.

Seeing he had miles of road to go, Harley decided to put a capper on his test performance. He gunned the accelerator and pushed the speedometer needle to touch the 100-mph mark. He had to stay in fourth gear to maintain the outrageous speed, but it was all he needed to make Lish shout above the wind.

The jackal tried furtively to pull away from the constant heat and incessant pulsing, but found that any movement only served to make him oversensitive. He felt that familiar constant rising wave of pressure between his legs building fast. No longer was he looking at the road, or enjoying the scenery that now rushed by in a blur of color. Instead his hips screamed that they were near cramping, his tail tried to tuck itself between his legs and he fought to bite down on the exposed patch of Harley's neck.

"Awww....!" A growl burbled up from his throat, scratchy and rough; Lish raised his head, which bobbed as if smelling some foreign scent, and he finally let go. Suddenly he was seven again, and the bubbles had overwhelmed him. Without the final buildup it all surged in one elongated wave; the jackal pushed as hard as he could into Harley's hole, his aching balls pumping all the seed in the world.

A steady stream of cum emptied into the cycle, making Harley swerve between lanes in joy. The horse felt his system light up with energy and heat, reenergizing him more than even the highest-octane gasoline. Spurt after spurt, his insides were coated thick until Lish's body finally went limp.

Floating on a cloud of afterglow, Lish came back to reality and his own age again. There had been no bubbles, no hot tub...just his cock and Harley's beautiful, talented engine up against it. Thankfully, after he was spent and clutching onto the cycle with the last of his energy, Harley let off the throttle and they coasted lazily to a stop.

He dismounted the motorcycle with legs too weak to stand on, and he had to fall to his knees, straddling the rocks and dust.

Harley turned around to face his new owner; of that he was now sure. He was excited to hear how Lish liked his special feature, and he couldn't hide the lustful pride on his face.

The jackal took a few moments to catch his breath, watching his own shadow heave with him on the gravel. He looked up, and expression of happy exhaustion on his muzzle. "Oh, my God. Oh...my God, I think I'm going to have a heart attack." He clutched his chest, but although the beat was strong it was returning to normal.

Harley let go of the fork, and immediately it separated from his teeth. "You liked it, huh?" he asked, turning off his engine. He sat, hissing and cooling down as he waited for his answer. Lish looked too out of breath, kneeling in the sun, the last couple of inches of his cock retreating back into his body. The jackal lifted his head once more with effort, climbed forward over his front wheel and jammed his lips up against the horse's. He couldn't reverse, and the force with which Lish embraced him rocked him on his kickstand.

The jackal kissed like a madman; years of want and denial coming to the surface. He felt Harley's thick lips and teeth, his large equine tongue as it searched around inside his mouth, over his sharp canines, having his first taste of another. At length he pulled away and noticed a strong aftertaste of motor oil on his tongue. It did nothing less than excite him all over again.

"Let's go back to the dealership," muttered the jackal in a voice that was unrecognizable as his own. "I have a check to write."

* * *

The setting sun cast warm light between the empty buildings. Anthony heard them coming a full minute before he saw the pair emerge from between two warehouses and head back to the showroom. He opened the wide glass doors and beamed as the cycle rolled onto the tile, the blat from his exhaust echoing off the walls. Lish killed Harley's engine and got off, displaying a much more confident attitude than the one he'd left with.

"Did you enjoy yourself, Lish?" asked the badger, as if he needed to know the answer.

Putting a hand on Anthony's shoulder, the jackal bent down close to one stubby ear: "Very much so. Normally I would be upset by you adding extra features, but I think I can make an exception in this case."

Anthony nodded knowingly and presented a small stack of forms. "Yes, the 'Seat Orifice' feature is always a client favorite. I trust you'll be going over these before you leave?"

"Absolutely. Where do I sign?"

The two left Harley and went into a side room, where Lish read the standard loan and warranty forms and signed all the necessary papers. After no more than ten minutes, they reemerged, both smiling.

"Your first monthly payment won't actually be due until the end of next month, so you have some time to get your things in order."

Lish shook his head. "There won't be a problem where that's concerned. But...how am I going to get both him and my car home?" He almost slapped his forehead when the answer was right in his hand. "Right...stupid." He took the key fob and pushed the button with the horse's head on it.

This time Harley snuffled and sneezed immediately, a look of clear discomfort settling over his face. First to go were his tires, losing their shape and splitting in half to become his hands and hooves again. Next, his kickstand retracted back into his chest, causing the horse to lose his balance and almost crash to the floor. Almost forcefully, everything that had emerged from his skin retreated, shrinking and being swallowed up by dark hair. His tailpipes shortened and joined again, forming the shape of an equine cock, losing its chrome as it disappeared into Harley's sheath. All the while, Harley sat writhing on the floor, teeth gritted against the change. The last few bits and pieces fell away and soon there was nothing left but a horse...albeit a beautiful horse.

The reverse transformation only took about thirty seconds, much faster than before, and Harley's panting, sweating and quivering body was a strong indicator that it took quite a toll on his system.

"Gonna...have to...get used to that," he managed to whisper.

Seeing Lish's look of concern, Anthony piped up, "The only negative aspect about the process is that it takes some acquaintance before both owner and vehicle fully understand the operations of the transformations. It may take a few more before Harley gets the hang of it."

"I'll work hard, I promise," said Harley, smiling to show the jackal he was all right.

"Me too. Shall we get you home?" The horse was up on his hooves immediately, almost jumping with excitement. A blanket was found to cover him, and after saying a heartfelt goodbye and thanks to Anthony, they piled their equally tall frames into the hatchback and headed home. During the drive, Lish's curiosity was matched only by Harley's childish eagerness to know about his new home. They traded questions back and forth the whole time, about what Lish did for a living, his life, apartment, friends and family. The jackal wanted to ask Harley all the same questions, but he kept reminding himself about the profound and fundamental difference between them. If anything, he promised himself, he would do his best to treat Harley like a member of his family instead of a piece of property to be ridden at his leisure.

They pulled into the parking lot of his building and turned into his small one-car garage across from the main door. Harley exited the car and looked around worriedly.

"I don't mean to be rude, but it's awfully cramped in here. Should I sleep on the floor behind the car, or outside?"

Lish was horrified at what Harley was implying. "You've got to be kidding me, right? You...actually expected to be garaged, or to stay outside? What happens when winter comes around? Are you going to freeze to death?"

"I-"

"No. You will stay in the house with me." His tone was authoritative behind his smile. Touching the warm tip of Harley's black snout, he said, "Now stop being silly and follow me inside." In the main door and up two flights of stairs, Lish led his new purchase into his apartment. He unlocked the door and opened it onto the dark hallway. The lights were clicked on, and Harley stepped through tentatively, tasting the air like a cautious puppy. The blanket slid off his sculpted glossy shoulders and fell to the floor, but the jackal didn't make a sound. Just the sight of that horse, and his wonderfully rounded buttocks moving beneath his swishing tail was enough to get him excited all over again.

"I know it's small, but I never expected..." Roommate was the word that came to his mind, but it didn't really do justice to the special circumstances surrounding this horse. "I never expected company like this."

"It's perfect! I can't believe you're letting me stay inside!" Harley stepped into the living room, saw the couch and flopped down on it. Feeling the soft material beneath his hair, he settled in and closed his eyes, his spread thighs giving a more than ample show. Lish stared unabashedly for more than a minute before realizing his neighbors could see everything through his windows. He rushed into the room and went about closing all the blinds before he was reported to the landlord for indecent exposure.

Actually, it's a very decent exposure, he thought, and laughed inwardly. "Do you want anything to eat?" he asked, making his way to the kitchen to fix himself a snack.

"Sorry, I can't do that," came the reply which startled the jackal into silence. He crept slowly back into the living room, peering wide-eyed.

"Did you say...that you don't eat? Period?"

"Nope. What would I use it for? All it would do is gum up my system, and then I would need a flush, and those are, like, really expensive. All you gotta do is lube me every once in awhile, so I won't squeak." Lish only nodded, barely keeping in a laugh and yawning instead. He realized just how much the day had taken out of him, and he decided to forego the snack and turn in early. He had gotten all the way into his room when he realized he wasn't being followed.

"Come on! Why are you standing there, looking foolish?"

"I...didn't know if you wanted me to follow you...in there."

Lish strode back into the living room and drug the poor confused horse back with him. He stripped down to his boxers and jumped onto the bed, his tail thumping the mattress. He patted the empty spot next to him, and Harley came over to lay down. They looked into each other's eyes, trying to pique the other's thoughts. Neither one wore a revealing expression. Finally, Harley broke the silence.

"Why are you looking at me?"

"Because I'm thinking I'm the luckiest guy in the world right now."

"Why?"

"You sure ask a lot of questions, don't you?" Harley nodded. "Because I used to think I was weird, a freak. I discovered when I was younger that I had certain attractions that were...unconventional. First, it was not liking girls, and then it was not liking people as much as machines. It got pretty bad when I graduated high school, but I was able to keep it all a secret and not talk about it. Every night I would indulge my 'sicko' fantasies in private, and it was so good. I thought it was all fine until I got out into the real world where you can go to jail for a very long time for not thinking like everybody else."

"Why can't you think what you want to?" The question was disarming in its simplicity.

Lish sighed. "I don't know if I can really explain it right now, it's just that you're supposed to get a job, pay your bills, get married and not make waves. If you do, then you call attention to yourself and you get in trouble. I kept it in for too long, and it all came out one night to my friends. They gave me a brochure, and it got me you. I don't indulge, and I don't buy a lot of expensive things, but you are the best use of my money to date."

Harley was insatiable. "Why did you buy me?"

The jackal was at a loss. He was so caught up in the buying, driving, and excitement of seeing his fantasies put to reality that he had never stopped to think of why he did what he did. It didn't take much thinking, however, to come to one overwhelming conclusion.

"This bed is awfully cold at night, Harley."

The horse blushed; he knew the meaning behind those words. He traced circles on the sheets with his finger until Lish stopped him.

"You're not just a recreation, or a motorcycle, or anything like that. You filled some mighty big holes in my heart and my life. I needed excitement; you filled that. I needed companionship; you filled that. I needed love; well, I can hope." With that, the jackal's voice broke a little and he turned on his side to face away from Harley. Immediately the big black equine scooted closer, surrounding Lish with his burly arms, wrapping him in his own body. The jackal gasped deeply in surprise, moaning as he felt the return of a comfort that had left his life when he had stopped nursing.

Harley's massive muscles were hot, tense, seemingly ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation. Yet the way he held his owner was all gentleness and compassion, murmuring into his ear with all the patience and encouragement of a mother. The horse had been built exceptionally well. Lish was erect at once, reaching one arm back and clutching a bare buttock and drawing it closer to him. A thin layer of silk was all that separated his most vulnerable area from Harley's sheath. The horse ground back.

"I don't know if I'm able to do that," murmured the black equine, "but I have a system capable of adapting to all sorts of terrain...maybe that'll help." Harley's hands started to groom the jackal's creamy chestfur, digging close to the skin and getting a deep rumble for their trouble. Lish cuddled closer, pushing himself into the horse's lap, a long-labored over question burning at the top of his mind.

"There's one thing I need to ask you, Harley. Please...ugnh!" The horse answered his incomplete question by thrusting powerfully against Lish's backside. The jackal's body language had asked long before Lish had built up the courage to speak.

"Yes," Harley replied, his hands leaving the jackal's chest just long enough to push the boxers right off his legs.

"Oh, man..." Lish lifted one leg and settled himself over the horse's rapidly lengthening penis, anxiety a sharp blade in his gut as he tried to estimate Harley's girth. Harley shushed his owner by petting him between the ears with one hand and running the other over his neck and chest, every once in a while roaming downward to clutch his maleness or aching testicles. Once again he found himself willingly in the control of the powerful beast, and he was perfectly content to stay there. He uttered nothing more than a breath of air as Harley's hand crept behind his thigh and brushed over his tailhole.

Unlike the jackal, Harley was in complete control of his heart and feelings. He had a job to do, and as property of Lish he was bound to fulfill his duty. His middle finger circled the tight, twitching ring of flesh and wormed its way in, penetrating the canine slowly but insistently. To his surprise, the hole was forgiving and indicated many nights with substitutes for the real thing. Lish needed no preparation. He shifted so now he hugged the jackal tight to his chest with his left hand, and spread his legs wide with the other. The smell of arousal assaulted his nose, tinged with just a small dose of fear, and spurred him on.

The horse's long maleness was now as hard as it could be, and Harley gently pulled Lish down to meet him. There was little resistance; in fact, as the flared head went through the first ring Lish relaxed and dug his footclaws into the bed, shoving himself the rest of the way until only two inches were left. A couple minutes later they, too, were gone, Harley's fuzz-covered sheath wrinkled and pushed up against his groin. He grunted at the heat surrounding him; Lish's muzzle was open in a yawn of indescribable pleasure.

"Please," pleaded the jackal in between grunts, "please...make it hard." He begged to be put in his place, and at the same time be claimed as a lover for the first real time in his life. Once he had been taken, he was into a fantasy again, lost in a world that consisted of him and Harley and nothing else. His hands went to his crotch, stroking his needy cock. He begged again, and the horse complied by moving his hips gently at first, then roughly when Lish asked for more.

The jackal pressed down again, bottoming out and taking an impossible amount of cock into him, as if just a few more inches would give him the release he so desperately sought. Harley kept up his rhythm, holding the shaking jackal, watching as he masturbated over the bed, staining the sheets with the occasional spurt of precum.

Suddenly Lish stopped, his chest heaving, little beads of sweat standing out on his forehead and the back of his neck. "FUCK ME!" he growled from deep within some primal part of his soul, and adrenaline flooded his system. He pushed with his feet, overpowering Harley and rolling them both onto their backs, where gravity once again impaled him to the hilt. Bending his knees, he reached back and gripped Harley's waist, pumping his body up and down and just a little forward onto the horse's member in long, labored thrusts. His breathing became whistly and shallow, so much pleasure flooding his body he couldn't believe his hands had left his cock. All he wanted was to be filled with thick horseseed, but he didn't even notice it had already happened.

Harley lay on his back, still holding the jackal steady as he was milked from above. He had been close when they had changed positions, but Lish's new strategy had gotten him off in no time. He wasn't prepared for the feelings going through his body: the way his balls twitched as cum was pumped through his cock, the bloodrush to his groin as he felt the first spurts, and the oversensitivity immediately following orgasm. He wanted Lish to stop, felt like he would explode if the friction didn't cease, but he had a job to do and didn't want to go against his owner's wishes.

Shortly after Lish growled obscenely the horse smelled the same feral scent he had caught a whiff of on the highway just before the jackal had inundated him. Lish's erratic, trembling movements said he was too overpowered to do much else on his own, so Harley freed his hands and went between the jackal's sweat-soaked legs; one hand clamped onto his cock and squeezed it in rhythm, the other rolled his balls around in their sac. Lish arched his back in response, barely able to keep going.

Moments later, Lish gritted his teeth and uttered a high squeak through his nose, followed by rapid-fire breaths as if he was in labor. He raised his legs one last time and came down hard onto Harley's cock. The horse was watching for the first sign of the jackal's climax, but before he knew it the top of his muzzle was covered with a long rope of white. The next few shots sprayed thin pre over the both of them and onto the headboard, followed by one continuous stream of doglike cum that coated Lish's chest and groin. Harley kept squeezing until there was nothing left but small dribbles coming from the jackal's red, well-used member and then let it go. He then exhaled, watching the jackal's limp body fall with his lungs.

The horse slowly took in everything that had just happened; it was a first for both of them, in a way. Still connected, he rolled them both over again, darting his tongue out to lap at the cum that was starting to drip from his muzzle. He savored the taste of his owner, thinking it was better and more flavorful than even the best 5W-30 motor oil. Lish was already asleep, knocked completely out by the fulfillment of years' worth of repressed arousal and hidden shame.

Harley decided not to pull out and risk a large stain on the sheets in the morning. He hugged the jackal close to him again, thinking of all he had learned and experienced on his first day out. "So that's what you bought me for," he said, smiling, his curiosity sated...for the moment.

Carefully reaching across the bed to turn the light off, the big black horse cuddled close to his-could he say it? Yes, he thought he could-lover, kissed the top of the furry, sweaty head, and closed his eyes. Sooner than he could have imagined, he too was sleeping for the first time, his light snoring making a familiar copyrighted noise and lulling the jackal into sweet dreams of days spent on the highway and nights spent in bed...warm, at last. The moon's pale light shone through the bedroom window and glinted off the single key sitting on the nightstand, just begging to be turned.

FIN

12/26/04-1/23/05