FSE

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Chapter 1

James paused at the house, watching it with an almost hungry gleam in his eyes before he clicked his tongue and sent the solitary horse pulling his carriage trotting up the drive towards it.

Covington Manor. It was the house he had long set his sights on. And now, not only was driving his carriage up the road to its property, but he was actually invited there. James forced the excitement he felt down, frowning at himself. It would not do to have him reveal in his emotions before the plan had even begun; it was not terribly becoming of a gentleman to act in such a way. But later - much later - when all he had ever hoped to achieve was done, he could celebrate. Until then, he must contain himself. He took a deep breath and forced himself to look out the window of his carriage. It would not be wise to give himself away before he had even arrived.

His eyes followed the perfectly trimmed hedges as his horse trotted up the lane; each bush was in its proper place, not a stray leaf was lingering on the brilliant green and evenly-cut lawn, all the cobblestones smooth and flat as they paved the way to the manor house. James's eyes swept the lawn; yes, it was a little too well-done for his tastes. A little too perfect. No one had servants that skilled or dedicated. It was impossible. Unless, it wasn't just the servants...

No, now he saw it. When his carriage was pulled past one of the lamps that lit the drive, he saw the flare of smokeless and non-electric light and realized it immediately. Magic. _ Now it made sense. While most well-to-do families saw magic as a common man's game, they never passed up the chance to employ a magician for a common man's labor. James suppressed a snort. If they could even dream of what magic could do, perhaps they wouldn't be so quick to dismiss the art. But nobles tended to be hypocrites and of course requested magicians to put spells on their lamps while at the same time scoffing at their work. They treated magicians the same way they treated everyone else they deemed inferior to them; though, ironically, these so-called _common jobs were jobs that they relied on and were unable to do themselves. To think of a nobleman attempting to saddle his own horse was more than amusing.

James smoothed his trousers and turned his attention away from the magically lit lamps that his carriage pulled past. The arrogance these nobles had was nothing short of disgusting. James took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He had been masquerading as a nobleman for the last few years, for the sake of his plan; for the sake of his revenge. It had been many long, difficult years in the making, but now it was finally coming to fruition. After years of passing himself off as a noble, befriending his enemies, and learning the skills and magic required for the plan to succeed, here he was, finally at the end of all his labors. Soon, he thought, _soon, they will know. Soon, they will be punished. Every last one of them. _ It wasn't a comforting thought, but the one thing that had been driving him for the last few years was that the entire family would one day pay for their crimes. This was the last stage of the plan. This was his grand finale. And he would not be denied.

Roger, Jonathan, William, he ran the names over in his head as he tried to settle his nerves, finding comfort in the mantra that he often repeated to himself for comfort over the last few years. _Roger, Jonathan, William. _

The horse and carriage came to a stop in front of the stable and immediately,a small team of grooms came forth and took the horse's lead while another opened the carriage's side door for him. "My lord," the head groom said respectfully, bowing to him. "May I take your horse and carriage, sir?"

"No bother," James said, holding up his hand. "If it's not too much to ask, I'd like to take care of my horse myself."

The grooms nodded, and if they found the request unusual, they didn't show it. Silently, they unhitched the sleek carriage and wheeled it away into the side barn, leaving James alone with his horse.

James carefully smoothed the creases in his jacket before nimbly taking his horse's lead. "Good girl," he murmured automatically as the horse obediently walked alongside him, snorting as they crossed into the open doors of the stable. At the sound of his voice, the horse tossed her head, nickering to him. He hushed her softly, reaching up to stroke her velvety soft nose. "Shhh, shhh," he murmured comfortingly, his eyes sweeping the magnificent stables as he spoke. "I don't like it here any more than you do. I'll work as quickly as I can, alright?"

James's horse whickered, making him smile. Horses were always so much better than people. They were simple animals, beautiful and powerful. They weren't cruel, they weren't greedy; they simply lived the way they were meant to, all the while completely unaware of the cruelty that their masters' were capable of. But James wasn't blissfully unaware of what people were capable of: he knew. It was why he was here, after all.

"Come," he said, tugging his mare's halter to lead her into an empty stall. "Let's get you rubbed down and settled in for the night."

****

James had never been one for revenge; at least, not at the beginning. He hadn't even been a noble or university educated; he never dreamed that one day he would be referred to as "my lord" or would have the money to own a horse, let alone ride one. No, at the beginning he was just an innocent orphan boy who worked as a stablehand.

Years ago, orphans were common enough in those parts - it seemed like everywhere you turned, there was a round-eyed boy or girl gazing pleadingly up at you, begging for coins. It wasn't a pretty picture, but it was a realistic one. Too many hardships had happened upon the kingdom: war, plague, and famine had been ravaging the kingdom for years and by the time the long-awaited peace had finally settled in, many children had lost their parents and were left to wander the streets alone.

James was one of the lucky ones. Though he had been orphaned at the age of three, his orphanage had found him work as a stablehand as a noble estate only a few short years later. He could still remember the excitement he felt at being able to leave the city. Finally! He'd be free of all the soot and grime, able to work and not have to worry about whether or not he'd be forced to sleep in an alleyway. He'd be able to smell fresh air, to run and play in the grassy fields, to be outside under the sun! And of all the places, he was being sent to Covington Manor. The house was practically a legend!

He loved his work. He loved the crisp, clean uniforms he was required to wear and how smart he looked in them. He adored waking up in the morning in his small, but comfortable room to the scent of the stables in the morning dew. And more than anything, he loved the horses. Great, majestic beasts who, despite their obvious strength and power, would nicker gently to him, nudging his hand with their soft, velvet noses as they watched him with their trusting eyes. When he was young, he almost wished that everyone in the world could have such a temperament.

For years he worked there, laboring hard. It was not an easy job, by any means, but he found it rewarding enough. James was only a small child when he had first been apprenticed to the groom, but now he was a full-grown boy, practically on the cusp of manhood, and he had been promoted to one of the assistant managers of the eastern wing of the stables. His Masters had a lot of horses, though he wasn't sure why, since they rarely rode them. One of the grooms rolled his eyes when James asked and answered that the Covington's liked to collect things, and horses were just another collection to add to their bragging rights. James never quite understood how something as noble and majestic as a horse could be part of a mere collection, but it wasn't his place to question the Masters.

James never saw much of the Covington family in those days. He was just a small apprentice and only the head grooms ever dealt with their boss. He knew the Covington's were a very high ranking and noble family, so they could be quite demanding. He pieced information together about them through the servants when they came to the stables to gossip or to spend an hour of "quality time" with a friend in one of the empty stalls, moaning in delight. He knew Roger Covington was the head of the family, descended from an ancient line of nobles and who apparently only respected other people with similar lineages. He was a ruthless business man, continuing to augment his family's already wealthy estate into one of decadence; he was charming to the noble ladies, able to woo and smooth over any wrinkle in his plans, even if they went against the law; and he had no respect or tolerance for a variety of things ranging from servants, to new money, to idealists to charity. There were also whispers of Roger's nighttime proclivities - the maids would hush when they spoke of it and only whispered that Roger liked to take all sorts of women - even the ones who rejected him. The maids would either sadly shake their heads or burst into tears at this point and the only thing that was ever said beyond it was that Roger was a great lord and they were powerless to refuse him. James wasn't entirely sure of what these things meant, but they were all he managed to overhear from the bitter-sounding servants.

James figured out that there was a Lady Covington years ago, but that she had passed away in childbirth, leaving Roger a widow with three children. Of the three children, James would learn to despise one, love another, and pity the third. The eldest was around James's own age: a boy named Jonathan who was as ruthless as his father. Just back from his boarding school, he was already tall for his age, he was handsome, and he apparently enjoyed tormenting his fellow students and his servants and was starting to take after his father in other ways as well. The working staff gave him wide birth whenever possible. Lydia was the second oldest and apparently was the exact opposite of her brother. Sweet, innocent, and kindly, she not only was lovely looking, with her long golden hair and large, gentle blue eyes, but she was also the only person who could talk Roger down when he was in one of his infamous moods. That left William, just three years younger than his brother. While Jonathan was feared and Lydia loved, William was pitied. He was as kind as Lydia, but he was also extraordinarily timid. He was a small, frail thing: short and thin with light brown hair, wide brown eyes, and a quiet, reluctant way of speaking. Lydia helped him frequently, but he was a favorite target of the Covington men: Roger despised the boy for being so weak and the opposite of everything he valued, while Jonathan liked to exploit him and abuse him in as many ways possible. But, to the world, the Covington family was a happy, wealthy one. They didn't know what happened beyond closed doors; only the servants did.

That was all James knew about the Covington's and it was all he needed to know about them. He dealt with horses, not people. So long as he did his job and did it well, he would be fine. He would have work to do, a place to sleep, food, and the the closest thing to family he had ever had: the servants, the company of other stablehands, and the beloved horses. He was happy and content with his life then. He never thought about leaving, he didn't want to go off a get an education or find a job to make him wealthy. He was happy and content where he was, which most people, he knew, couldn't say the same. He intended to keep it that way. But that was about to change.

One day James was rounding the corner with a bucket full of feed and noticed right in front of one of his stalls stood a tall and imposing figure. Roger Covington, the patriarch of the family, was standing in the eastern wing, stroking the neck of one of James's favorite horses. Roger Covington was a tall man with, powerfully built with broad shoulders, deep mahogany colored hair that was perfectly parted and combed, and a immaculately trimmed beard. His eyes were dark and sharp; James heard the other grooms say that he had an eye for business and two eyes for profit. He wasn't exactly sure what that meant, since he had never seen Lord Covington's eyes, but even after seeing them, James was still somewhat unsure. Lord Covington was instantly recognizable, even though he wasn't wearing his more noble clothes; his "outdoor" outfit was still finely made with the best materials: soft fabrics, strong cords, and embellished embroidery, leaving no doubt that despite the simple appearance of an outfit of trousers, a tunic, and riding vest, he was a very wealthy man indeed. The Lord turned when he heard the sound of James's feet.

"What's your name, boy?" He asked in a deep, baritone voice that rolled easily through the stables.

James quickly bowed. "James, sir," he said, trying to make his voice as courteous as possible.

"What do you do here?" Roger asked, his dark eyes traveling up and down James's small form.

James bowed again. In those days he had been eager to please and had no reason to fear his master. "I oversee that all the horses in the eastern wing are tended to, my lord. I feed, clean, and exercise them everyday."

Roger didn't seem impressed by the answer and looked almost downright bored by it, as if he were hoping James would say something more scandalous. "And do you like your work?"

James nodded eagerly. "Yes, my lord. It is the best job I've ever had. I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. These horses are like family to me."

To James's surprise, Roger laughed. "How delightful," he said, though his voice was dripping with something James had never heard before. Malice? Disdain? "Horses are only a half-step below servants, so it's fitting you find a kinship with them. Is that why you like your job so much? Loyalty to the horses?" His eyes bored into James's and James shrank back, feeling suddenly very uncomfortable with a surge of fear at the unstable look in the lord's eyes - it was almost a hungry-like gleam that shone in their depths.

James was unsure of what he said wrong or what he was supposed to say in response. The farrier had told him that the horses ought to be treated like family because they had to be someone you loved. James didn't have a family, so he didn't mind substituting his with the horses in the least. When he told the farrier this, the man had smiled and said that that was good. But now James wasn't so sure. And at the look Roger was giving him now, he quickly tried to make it right again and answered as honestly as possible. "I suppose, my lord," he answered slowly, noticing the sudden bite in the lord's voice.

"You suppose?" Roger's voice clipped, suddenly viciously angry, though James again wasn't sure why or what he said wrong. "It should be loyalty to your Masters. Loyalty to the family you serve, not to some dumb beast." Roger looked James up and down. "Perhaps I should move you to a new department. You should have unquestionable loyalty to the family you serve. Do you understand this?"

James was saved from having to answer by the arrival of one of the senior grooms, who looked daggers at James, as if he was deliberately trying to disturb the lord, and quickly ordered James away.

James's brief and strange encounter with Lord Covington during his boyhood was the only time he had actually spoken to Roger. After his conversation with the lord, James made sure that their paths didn't cross again. The old groom who James often went to for advice comforted him when James told him of the encounter and said not to worry. He explained that sometimes the Masters liked to show how powerful they were, for no reason. They enjoyed being feared. And if the lord was really going to move him, he would have thrown James on the streets that instant. No, he was just playing with James with some threats. It meant nothing. Ignore it. Stay away from them. Do your job and keep your head down.

James readily agreed. He couldn't understand why his Masters insisted on acting the way that they did, but he wasn't about to argue. So he followed the old groom's advice and kept his head down and did his job. Although he knew that he was supposed to love and respect his Masters, the horrible feeling he got after his encounter with Lord Roger Covington left him feeling miserable and confused. Deciding to forget the matter and move on, James simply hoped that he would never come under the attention of the Covington's again.

But then all his dreams had been shattered and everything he had hoped for was ruined in just one day. It was the worst day of his life, it was a day he tried to never think about - it was the day that made him hungry for revenge on the whole family.

****

"James?"

The sound of his name drifted in from the doorway of the stables as James worked to finish brushing his mare and jerk him from his reminiscing. Although it was risky grooming his own mare instead of letting the grooms do it, he didn't care. He had missed this more than anything and being back in the Covington stables brought back the urge to perform his own labor. He still wasn't used to letting other people do everything for him. Besides, his horse was precious to him and he wouldn't let just anyone handle her, and all the grooms by this time had been replaced by newer, more efficient young men so there was no risk that he'd be recognized. He just wanted one more moment of peace and meditation before he had to enter the Manor, but apparently even that was too much to ask.

James collected his thoughts, composed himself, and peeked his head out of the stall to find Jonathan standing at the threshold of the stables. Jonathan was a tall, young man, displaying every possible sign of the Covington family's good breeding as the heir to the Covington name. Impeccably dressed in the finest cloth with his dark hair, dark eyes, and broad shoulders, he made an impressive sight.

A smile of amusement broke on Jonathan's face as soon as he caught sight of James. "What on earth are you doing in here?" he asked in surprise, stepping into the stables. "You needn't mind your horse; the grooms will see to it that it's taken care of."

James nodded. "Of course," he said, a smile at his lips as he greeted Jonathan genially. "It's not that I doubted your groomsman's care of the beast. I'm afraid I'm rather particular about the girl's care and wanted to do it myself. I find it relaxing." His eyes flickered up to the high vaulted ceilings of the stable. "And I had to satisfy my own curiosity about these stables. They're truly magnificent. I simply had to see them for myself."

Jonathan's eyes traveled around the stables appreciatively. "Ah. Yes, they are," he said, folding his hands behind his back as he appraised his family's stablehouse. "My father recently had them renovated again, at my suggestion. They were constructed by the Duke of Eddenburg in the last half of the century. And after all the work was completed, he decided that the architect had the design drafted incorrectly and wanted to move the entire stable five degrees to the left so that the light would better shine in."

"You don't say?" James said, feigning interest. The construction of the stables wasn't what interested him, least of all what great lengths nobility went to to exploit the working class for their own selfish demands. But he wanted to linger in the stables for another moment, so he pressed for Jonathan to keep talking. "And did he move them?"

"Oh yes. He had all the men tear everything down, piece by piece, rotate it to the proper place, and then rebuild." Jonathan chuckled to himself. "It always seemed a bit over the top for me, but I enjoyed hearing the story when I was little. I don't think I ever quite believed it entirely."

"And the sunlight?" James said absently, eyes still inspecting the building expertly. _He had missed this place. _ "Was it really worth it to rotate the building?"

"According to the Duke, it was worth every cent. My father always told me never to accept a thing until it's done just right - " He trailed off, a slight frown crossing his features. "But that's not why you came all this way out here, to hear me ramble about my family and the stables. Come, would you like to get a tour of the grounds?"

"Actually, if you don't mind I'd rather get a tour of the manor," James said, carefully placing his grooming brush down. Although he would have loved to stay in the safe havens of the stables, he had a task to do. And it was better to get started now as opposed to later, despite his misgivings. But he and his Mistress had struck a deal and he wasn't about to let her down on his part of the bargain. He had a job to do - and one that had been years in the making. James gave his mare a final pat that she ignored as she dunked her head into the trough of water nearby. "Your brother has promise me a tour of the grounds later this evening."

"Has he now?" Jonathan said, raising a brow. "I appreciate you even giving him the time of day. That boy's more trouble than he's worth. But he's an obedient thing, isn't he? I'll see to it that he tends to all of your needs while you're hear visiting us."

James smiled. Jonathan, he knew, was one of the most homophobic men he'd ever had the displeasure of meeting. But James doubted that Jonathan even realized what he was suggesting when he offered to let his younger brother 'tend James's needs.' Still, it all fit into his plan rather well, so he made sure to smile and follow the young man from the stables, pretending to be interested in the drab conversation the man was offering him as opposed to beating him senseless like he craved to do instead. Not yet, he told himself, soon, but not yet. _ He would have his revenge soon enough. _Roger, Jonathan, William. Roger, Jonathan, William.

****

It took nearly three hours to tour the entire house. The manor itself was huge, filled with twisting passageways, endless hallways, and massive rooms filled with antiques, treasures, and other ornate valuables. James did his best to act interested in the tour - and to some extent he was. When he was a boy he was never allowed inside the main part of the house (though he was snuck in once or twice and caught some hurried glimpses of things), so he had always been a bit curious to see it. It was strange being back there and even more strange to actually be invited inside, as if he belonged there. But even now, seeing all the treasures the manor held only convinced him even more that the house was nothing but an empty thing full of decaying artifacts and devoid of all else. There was a heaviness to the air that made him shift where he stood, uncomfortably.

Jonathan didn't seem to notice. He had given his friends tours before and knew what items to draw attention to, which rooms were truly breathtaking, and which places to wave his hand at dismissively. Most of the rooms were accompanied with an anecdote or some lecture on the history of an heirloom, but at least the manor itself was interesting. And James had a vested interest in acquiring the manor for his Mistress, without whom he would have never learned the spells required to enact his plan - but, all in good time. He was getting ahead of himself. First things first -

"Ah," Jonathan said, smiling broadly as a young woman approached the pair, bowing nervously in her traditional black and white maid's uniform. "My lovely girl. James, come! Meet one of the many benefits of staying in the manor."

The girl blushed, but managed to curtsy despite the leering stare Jonathan was giving her. "My lords," she said softly. "Lord Covington requests your presence in the East Parlor now."

Jonathan looked slightly annoyed at this, but knew better than to refuse his father. "Very well." He watched as the maid practically fled from them. "I helped my father hire most of the maids," he said, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully at her retreat. "I made sure they were all pretty and obedient." He looked sideways at James. "They'll work hard to make sure you enjoy your stay."

James forced himself to smile. He had lived on the streets long enough to know what kind of people took advantage of others - and he hated those types of people with every fibre of his being. But he had a mission to mind. He knew there were other lords like the Covington's, and perhaps one day they'd have to reckon with him, too. But for now, he had the Covington's to deal with. And it was personal. "Trust me," he said as the two began to make their way to one of the parlors. "I have no doubt that I will enjoy my time here."

The remainder of their walk to the parlor was filled with Jonathan's endless chatter about the house and his exploits with the maids, which he apparently had many of. How many of those the maids were willing was not disclosed to James, though he doubted few were. It was strange being on the other side of the picture. He had always wondered if the nobles discussed how terribly they tended to treat those who were "beneath" them and how they couldn't manage to see how monstrous and inhuman they were acting. But, James quickly came to realize, they didn't see themselves as monsters because they didn't see the lower classes as human in the first place. They were underthings - nothing more than tools and toys to amuse their betters. James grit his teeth; he hated having to listen to Jonathan, he hated having to pretend they were friends. All of this, every moment from the first time they had sat down together at the university to this very moment, James had hated. But soon, he promised himself_, it would all be over. _ Soon.

Finally, they arrived at the parlor and a moment before the door opened, James realized that he was about to come face to face with Roger for the first time since that terrible day that had ruined his life and changed everything. But he was ready now. He was no longer the scared little boy he was back then. Now, he was Lord James Reynault, an honored guest at the Covington Manor. And, of course, the bringer of their punishment, though they didn't know it just yet. But they would know it soon enough. The door swung open and he found himself walking into a large, richly furnished room filled with tapestries, frescos, and a gold-adorned fireplace. He had only a moment to strap a smile on his face, square his shoulders to emit a haughtiness the king himself would be jealous of, and stride into the room. It was show time.

Roger Covington was sitting comfortably in a large, richly designed high-back chair near a merrily flickering fire. He had aged well, James observed. His face wasn't perhaps so youthful, but he still maintained an air of control and power, a caper sophistication that made it more than apparent that he was a great lord of noble lineage; even the hint of silver in his hair did nothing to detract that. He lifted his dark gaze to Jonathan and James when they entered and immediately allowed an easy smile to appear on his face. "Ah," Roger said pleasantly, looking over James as he rose to his feet to greet the pair. "Lord Reynault, I presume? Jonathan informed me that you would be coming."

James bowed in return, fighting the urge to launch himself at Roger and beat him senseless him for what he had done. No, he told himself, _not yet. The revenge will be all the sweeter in time. _ He just had to wait; but it wouldn't be easy to do so. But, he had survived befriending Jonathan and in his opinion Jonathan was far worse than his father, anyways. He could do this. "Yes, my lord," he heard himself saying, a smile forced on his lips. "But please, call me James. It is an honor to meet you and to be welcomed into your home."

Roger chuckled, a great booming sound that rolled through the room with his deep voice. "Not at all, not at all," he said quite pleasantly. "And please, just Roger will do. We're all friends here, are we not? It is a pleasure to finally meet you."

James smiled. Such a statement could not be further from the truth. "Of course," he lied heartily. He knew Roger did not recognize him. And why would he? He was only a lowly stablehand of scarcely thirteen when they had last met. Now, he was a full-grown man and a lord. Roger would never remember the poor, terrified stableboy from that day so long ago -

"Jonathan has told me much about you," Roger continued, gesturing for the two men to seat themselves while a flurry of servants bustled around silently, pouring drinks and setting down trays laden with food. "You two met in the university, did you not?"

"Yes," James said, nodding. "Jonathan and I were partners in a chemistry lab the first day we stepped into uni, wasn't it?"

"The very first day," Jonathan confirmed, nursing his glass of wine happily.

"And I suppose we just hit it off right," James continued, taking his goblet of wine from the servant without so much as looking at the man, as a noble should. "It's difficult these days to find men of the right breeding, if you'll excuse my crudeness. So many families from new money strolling about, acting like they're entitled to everything when they really haven't the slightest idea of what it means to be noble." James shook his head. "As soon as I met Jonathan, I could sense a kinship. His mannerisms are all those of a noble - wealth that isn't just earned or taken, but inherent in his very blood."

Roger smiled, nodding. "I'm certainly glad you two found each other. Keeps him from hanging around with the wrong crowds. The company a man keeps is important in determining the man he's to become. It seems that you've both found yourself in good company, indeed."

James laughed and tipped his glass of wine to Roger. "I certainly hope so, sir."

Roger drank deeply and set his glass down firmly before drawing a pipe out from his vest pocket.. "I hear that you've also been helping William out as well," he said, nodding casually to where William was sitting in the shadow of one of the massive chairs, completely unnoticed until now. "That's rather kind of you."

"William," James said in surprise, turning to the chair that dwarfed William's slight figure. "How nice to see you. Why didn't you come over to say hello?"

Roger drew out a pack of matches from his pocket, watching his son with a sort of reserved hatred. James knew from both William and Jonathan that William was an unwelcome part of the family, and tolerated at best.

"Good heavens, William!" Jonathan said, putting down his glass of wine and leaning back in his chair to observe his little brother with an annoyed expression. "Will you stop moping in the corner like that? You're acting like a little girl - and half look the part as well!"

"Peace, Jonathan," Roger said, taking a slow drag on his pipe. It was one thing for him to think poorly of his own son; but another to have an outsider do the same. James knew that Roger would defend William to keep up appearances so long as they had company. But the moment he left - "The boy takes after his mother," Roger said to James apologetically, "a good family, but prone to sickness I'm afraid."

"I'm sure he'll hit a growth spurt sometime down the road," James said neutrally. "Perhaps someday he'll even be larger than Jonathan."

Jonathan roared with laughter. "Now there's a good chap. Always the optimist are you, eh?" Chuckling, he set his glass of wine down with a soft clink. "At this point William should be done praying that he'll grow and start praying that a girl will notice him."

"I'm sure he's caught some of their eyes," James said pleasantly while William looked away.

"He'd better," Jonathan said gruffly, rising to his feet. "I'll not tolerate any nancies running about my family. There's only one way to handle those sorts of folk."

James remained silent. He knew how Jonathan handled those sorts of people - and he knew how Jonathan handled his own brother as well. It sickened him, but there was nothing he could do now. Now was the time to sit and wait until he had the perfect moment to act. He had his plan. And he knew exactly how he was going to go about executing it. It had been years in the making. Years of planning, observing, training; years of dedication. He had poured his heart and soul into this endeavor and was quite determined to see it through. And that now, after planning for so long, waiting for what felt like ages he was going to commence with the final part of his plan, he felt almost giddy.

"William," James said, rising to his feet. "I hate to be rude, but you gave me your word that you'd give me a tour of the grounds. And I must admit, I'm quite curious to see them."

William jumped at being addressed and quickly nodded, rising to his feet. "Yes, of course. I'd be happy to give you a tour. Let me just fetch my jacket first."

Jonathan watched William scamper off with a look of disgust. "Sickly little thing, isn't he? Damn shame of the family. I don't know why you like being in his company so much."

"Enough, Jonathan," Roger said sternly, finally looking up. "I won't have you speaking of your brother in such a way in front of guests." He gave a meaningful look to James. "Excuse my son. He feels he is entitled to - strong opinions."

"I believe Jonathan is entitled to such," James said boldly, making Jonathan's chest puff out in pride. Noble families like the Covington's hated people speaking bluntly or out of turn - even fellow lords - but tended to enjoy it if the statement ended up complimenting them in the end. "Pardon me for saying, sir, but he is a Covington and your heir. It's not his fault that his brother pales in comparison. Nor is it your fault, sir. In some families there are men made to lead and men made to follow. I'm sure William will continue to be a loyal servant to the Covington name, just as I am sure that Jonathan will live up to your name in every way possible."

Roger stared at James for a moment, torn between outrage and agreement. Then he laughed. "Ha! I see why you like this man," he chuckled, clapping Jonathan on the shoulder while Jonathan grinned savagely. "Just make sure you're not too hard on William. He's a delicate thing. And he is a gentle thing. You know the proper way to treat family."

Jonathan smiled at his father. "Of course I do." There was a sickening way that he said the words that made James's stomach clench and turn within him, but he forced himself to ignore it and Jonathan's comment.

"Don't worry, my lord," James said with a slight bow. "William will be in good hands." And he honestly meant it.

Jonathan snorted. "Just make sure he's helpful and obedient. That's how he's been trained. If he gives you the slightest - "

"Don't worry," James said smoothly, though a part of him wondered if Jonathan realized that other families didn't speak openly of "training" their brothers or if Jonathan was just that self-assured of his position. Poor William never really had a chance. "I'll make sure he behaves. He always does around me." He grinned at Jonathan as he shrugged his coat on that a butler provided wordlessly. "It's important for boys like him to be obedient and subservient," he added while Jonathan smiled in approval. It was far too easy to win Jonathan over. All he had to do was act half as evil and just as sociopathic and he was golden. James said his farewells and followed a butler to the front of the house, where William was waiting for him. Poor William. He pitied him for having to grow up in such a place. But he wasn't without his own sins to answer for, either.

*****

"I'm so glad that you finally came to this wretched place," William said, kicking his shoe against the stone floors of the stable entranceway. William had given James a halfhearted tour of the grounds that James was sure Jonathan would be appalled at, but it was more than obvious that William didn't really care about the grounds and simply wanted time away from his family with James. "At least it's more bearable when you're here."

"I wish you didn't act so sullen while I was here," James said, ignoring William's attempt to compliment him. "It's difficult to explain to your father how well you're doing when you're acting like a child, you know. If you want him to respect you, you need to act the part."

William looked annoyed at that. "I'm not going to act like Jonathan," he spat, "and that's the only way my father will ever respect me. I'd rather just have his indifference if that's the case." He crossed his arms and leaned against on the stall's outer walls, looking at James expectantly.

"No," James agreed softly. "You shouldn't act like Jonathan." He cocked a smile at William. "I like you just the way you are."

"Oh?" The sullenness immediately dropped from William's demeanor. "Do you now?"

James held back a sigh. From the beginning, the plan had been perfect: get revenge on the Covington's for what they did by destroying them on the inside. James wasn't a vengeful person. He was hard-working, generous, and empathetic to others' plights. But the Covington's were pure evil and needed to be stopped. It was the only reason that James was willing to play a part in the plan in the first place. Until James met William at the university. As soon as James saw William, he knew that his perfect plan had a single flaw: William.

William wasn't a typical Covington: he was kind, sensitive, and genuinely good. He wasn't power-hungry or greedy like his father or cruel like his brother - he was much more like his kind sister, Lydia. He didn't, James thought, deserve the same fate as the rest of his family. But he was still a Covington. And the plan hinged on all of them being destroyed. James had argued with his Mistress, who was the architect of their plan and his instructor in the magical arts he needed to know, about what to do with William. She listened to James's logic and agreed with him. William wasn't like his father and brother and shouldn't be held accountable to the same caliber of punishment that they deserved. But William, she pointed out gently, wasn't wholly innocent, either. He had still wronged oh so many people with his inability to stand up for them while his family took their lives away and so he, too, she argued, needed to be punished. But in a different way. A special way. She gave a few suggestions to James and told him to do what he thought was right. James approved of her ideas and hoped that William wouldn't take it terribly personally if he were used as one of the tools to his family's undoing. Yes, William would be punished. But James thought it was a punishment that William might very well end up enjoying...

"Of course I do," James smiled. He knew how dependent poor William was on his approval. "But I like you better when you're away from your family. You act differently."

William cocked his head to the side, surveying James carefully. "Do I? Well, since you like the way I act away from my family " " He took a careful step forward after first glancing around the stablehouse. "And that's how you like me best," His hands slowly unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. "Then I believe I have a new idea of what we can spend our afternoon doing - " He smiled up at James, reaching forward to wrap his hand around James's belt. "And I assure you, it's far more splendid than the grounds."

"Oh?" James asked, a rough grin touching his features before he smoothed it out again. "And tell me, what might that be?"

James had scarcely gotten the words out before William launched himself forward and immediately wound his arms around James's and kissed him hard, pressing his lean body against James's. After a moment James broke the kiss, laughing softly.

"You rascal," he murmured, running his hands up and down William's succulent body while the lad closed his eyes and moaned softly.

Their affair had been strange and passionate one since its inception months ago. Originally it had started because Jonathan had to travel for business and asked James to look after his younger brother as he attempted to navigate the often treacherous world of the university. James, of course, agreed, seeing no problem in watching over his friend's brother. To him, William was a studious lad who cared more with his success at the university than his social standing. But when he had stopped in to William's flat to check on him, he discovered a very different side to the reserved boy he thought he knew.

The girl had left in a hurry, blushing furiously as she gathered up her clothing, and left only half-dressed, calling out to William that she would call upon him later. William, to his credit, didn't seem remotely embarrassed, only slightly annoyed that James had interrupted him. The two men at first laughed about it: James apologizing and William looking somewhat pleased with himself. But after James had seated himself at William's urging and William had gathered himself again, there was a change in the air that was almost tangible. James wasn't entirely sure what it was until William had made a soft, almost strangled noise, and dove at James's trousers, desperately searching for his cock.

James had immediately pulled back in surprise. He wasn't gay, but certainly never turned down getting his cock sucked, but getting it sucked by his friend's younger brother? Especially when Jonathan was so extremely homophobic? That, James doubted, would not be taken well, should anyone find out, and would ruin his plan. So he had gently tried to push William away, but William was determined. And finally, James's cock was straining with need and William had managed to wrap his lips around it. And at that point, neither of them could stop.

After that, while James tried to catch his breath, William blushed furiously and tried to look apologetic. After a while, William quietly confessed that he was attracted to both women and men alike - and he simply couldn't help himself when he saw James. He had to have him.

James was used to such tactics. He knew firsthand what the rich liked to do with the poor, treating them like playthings, using them until they were broken and beaten down before casting them out again. What he had never come across was a submissive lordling. Of course, William attempted to make the best of the situation by then demanding to be serviced in return. The look on William's face was priceless when James refused point blank and made William service him again instead. The boy had been surprised, and somewhat unwilling at first, but as soon as he set his eyes on James's hardened prick, he relented and suckled it quite expertly. Oh, James made sure to instruct William that from then henceforth he expected to be serviced frequently. And William was only happy to oblige.

James always got a bit of a thrill having the son of a great lord and the brother of a homophobe servicing him. He loved women, certainly, but having a man suck on your cock was always a bit better than a woman. So he always made sure to enjoy himself to the fullest with dear William. And William was, to James's great surprise and delight, always eager to service James. The poor boy would practically be faint with the need to nuzzle his face in James's crotch, anxiously awaiting to lap at James's cock. James certainly had no complaints. The power and authority he wielded over William made his game even more interesting. It would all go towards the master plan in the end and there was nothing wrong if James had a bit of fun along the way -

"William," James said softly, feeling the lad trembling with need. The poor boy was practically beside himself now as he pushed his body against James, mewling like a kitten.

"Ohhh, James. James, please - " William managed to whisper, his voice so quiet it was scarcely audible. "I want you inside me."

"Shhh, shhh," James hushed him, wrapping his arms around William protectively. He knew he couldn't get attached to any of them. And he wasn't. He just knew there wasn't anything wrong with selling his role as a domineering nobleman. "Come now, lad," he said, pushing William's head down gently. "If you're going to beg like a whore, you might as well play the part."

William's eyes looked up at him for just a moment before the boy began to fumble with James's belt buckle. Yes, James thought, _slowly but surely, he'll be mine. They'll all be mine. _ James sucked in his breath sharply as William's skilled lips breathed a puff of warm air on his growing cock, then plunged his mouth around James's length, suckling like a starving calf to its mother's teat.

James grunted, feeling the pleasure of William's expert mouth coaxing his building release. Yes, he would miss this terribly. William was so subservient, so eager to please when he was with James. Of course, in public, he was a Covington, and acted accordingly, despite his timid nature. But when he was with his beloved James, he was everything James needed him to be: submissive and obedient. James drew his breath in sharply as William's tongue began to swirl around his cockhead. Groaning, he grabbed William's soft hair and began to buck his hips, slamming his hardened shaft into William's throat while the boy's squeals were muffled by the cock in his mouth. It was no wonder James couldn't help but use William's mouth like a whore's cunt - he was always available and rather skilled. "Ohhhh yessss," he whispered, picking up the pace of his thrusts.

Roger, Jonathan, William, he told himself silently. _Roger, Jonathan, William. _ It was the mantra that had kept him going all these years, the words that gave him strength and that gave him power. One day they would know the truth, one day they would understand what they had done. But first, they needed to suffer. He cried out and came in William's mouth, thrusting his hips sharply as the boy swallowed as fast as he could. When his cock was finished spewing its load into William's mouth, James tugged it free, wiped it clean on William's shirt and tucked himself back into his pants.

"Come," he said, noting the damp spot on William's breeches with some amusement. "Let's have that tour of the grounds, then."

****

For most of James's life, he was a good, obedient worker. He never wanted to leaner magic, he never wanted to cause anyone pain. He just wanted to tend to the horses. He was good at his job: the work made him strong and his position made him modest. He knew that in a few years he would reach the marrying age and would probably attempt to court one of the maids of the house, or perhaps take a trip to the city to find himself a wife there. That was all his mind wanted and it was all he could even fathom. He wasn't a trouble maker in the least and since he kept his eyes down and his mouth shut, he could bet that he'd receive promotions and live a comfortable life with a stable job. Until, at least, everything was taken away from him.

It seemed so strange that one day could so dramatically alter one's life. The day began with him rising before dawn to feed the horses, chipper and looking forward to helping train one of the new arrivals - but ended with him being cast out of the manor, raped, beaten bloody with not a dime to his name, no family to rely on, and no where to go. It was easy to say that it was the most horrific day of his life.

Things began to rapidly spin out of control when a young maid named Susan sought him out in the stables. She looked nervous and was twisting her apron in her hands when she tapped on James's door. "James? I need your help."

James and Susan had been friends for the last few years. Their friendship, surprisingly, had started with Miss Lydia. James had never imagined that someone as beautiful, as kind, and as influential as Miss Lydia would ever spare him the time of day; but to his great surprise, Miss Lydia loved horses. Susan was Lydia's personal servant and attended her every need. Including going riding with her. Soon it became common for the three of them to take trips together, riding in the meadows and the trails surrounding the manor. Those were the days James remembered with fondness; those were the days that he desperately missed.

Those days soon faded, however, when Roger began to call upon Susan for certain favors - favors that resulted in her coming to James crying whenever she left Lord Covington's chambers. James never pressed her for details, but he could guess well enough what was going on. But there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. He once attempted to ask Susan what was happening, to offer her help - but she immediately grew angry and snapped at him that it wasn't his business. But he had seen the look of terror in her eyes. She knew if anyone found out that Roger would do even worse things. So everyone looked the other way and pretended that nothing at all was out of the ordinary. Susan was, after all, just a lowly maid dwelling in the house of a greta lord...

It was Susan's request that made a chill go up his spine; she had never asked for help for herself, so it was entirely out of place for her to be asking now.

James immediately abandoned the horse he was grooming when he saw the terrified look on her face. What did Roger do now? he couldn't help but wonder.

"I think something's happened to Miss Lydia," she whispered. When James looked at her blankly, she quickly elaborated. "I saw Jonathan with her - he was pulling her along by her arm - practically dragging her. When I tried to intervene, he sent me away, but - oh, James, she looked terrified. And there was something awful in his eyes. Something - " She stopped suddenly, her face white. "He looked like his father."

That was enough for James. "Where did they go?" he asked urgently. If anything should happen to Miss Lydia - He shuddered to think of it. She was only buffer left between the servants and the Covington's. And she was so young, so sweet, so innocent; James would hate to see something as kind and delicate as her be ruined by her family. He had to do something.

"The old library," she whispered. "Please, be careful, James! There's something not right with him - "

James had run to the library in no time. He knew he wasn't supposed to be in the house, he knew he could get in a lot of trouble if he were caught - but he was old enough to know that whatever Jonathan and Roger did in their home was wrong and hurtful - though no one, it seemed, was able to stop it. And those who protested only disappeared... Not to mention that Lydia was so little, so innocent. She seemed to be the only one in the family who might be able to stop the torture one day - or at least, was the only one of the family with a heart at all. Maybe he couldn't help the maids, but surely he could help Miss Lydia? He had to help her. He cared deeply for her and, in a sense, loved her. She was like a little sister to him and he wouldn't ever want to see her harmed.

A sound alerted him to a small alcove to his left. It sounded like a muffled grunt, a softened cry. Taking a deep breath, James peered through the crack in the doorway to see what was inside the darkened library. And he immediately felt horror roll through him at what he saw.

Lydia was bound and gagged on the couch at the end of the room. Jonathan had apparently used curtain ties to tie her hands together; her legs were splayed open on the couch, each foot tied to a different end of the couch's legs. Her eyes were wide and terrified, her golden hair in a state of disarray. James noticed that her dress was crumpled up on the floor next to the couch - all she had on now was her small, sheer slip, which wasn't much of anything at all. James drew in his breath sharply. _This couldn't possibly be happening - _

Jonathan laughed softly as he approached Lydia from behind.

"You know," he breathed in Lydia's ear, "I pride myself on having slept with all of the prettiest girls around here. But everyone tells me that the prettiest by far is my own sister." He laughed softly, pulling the curtain cords that bound her tighter. "But today must be my lucky day. Because today I'm going to nail the prettiest girl in the whole city. What do you think about that, dear sister?"

Lydia's eyes widened in horror and fear and she shouted through the gag, struggling fiercely, her usually pretty face twisted in horror and fear as she attempted to free herself.

Jonathan laughed, and leaned over her, running his hands along her trembling body. "Ohhh so sweet," he whispered. "I've been dying to have you all to myself for weeks now. Today really is my lucky day," Jonathan continued, fumbling with his pants. "I'm sure you'll enjoy this. Nothing is better than having a true noble fucking you - not some peasant filth. You're learn in time." He ran his hand along Lydia's thigh, smiling as she struggled. "And I'll fuck you each and every day so you'll know you're mine." He leaned down close to her ear. "You breath a word of this to anyone," he murmured. "And I'll make sure you'll get knocked up. And even if you are swollen with my child, what do you think father will do, hmm? Do you really think he'll keep a slut around? No, you'll be out on the streets all alone." He straightened behind her, looking down between her legs. "Just enjoy it and we'll both get some pleasure out of this little arrangement."

James was rapidly beginning to realize that the danger that Jonathan presented was beyond anyones control - and that something had to be done, immediately. Without a moment's thought, James pushed into the room and pulled Jonathan roughly away. "Leave her alone!" James shouted, standing between them, staring down at the surprised nobleman. James drew himself up to his full height - which wasn't much - and tried to look as imposing as possible. Although he was younger and smaller than Jonathan, he did more physical labor than the older boy and was probably stronger. Probably. At least, that's what he told himself as he attempted to stare Jonathan down.

For a moment, Jonathan froze, sizing up James as the stablehand stood between him and his quarry. Then, he smiled. "You dare think you can challenge me?" he laughed. "I'll have you fired and sent to the streets if you try to pull that stunt with me again. Move aside, boy."

James felt a flicker of anger at being called "boy." He was only a year or so younger than Jonathan! But even more so, he felt anger at Jonathan attempting to threaten him. He knew by now he had lost his job. He knew he would be banished from the Covington Estate and forced to live on the streets, but that only spurred him on. At the very least, he could protect Lydia before his life was over. "Leave her alone," he said again, taking a careful step forward. And to his surprise, Jonathan took a step back. Spurred with newfound confidence, James advanced again, and once more Jonathan retreated. _Maybe all wasn't lost anyways. _ If he could beat Jonathan, Lydia would be safe, he might still be able to keep his job...

Only then did James realize that he was wrong, but by that point it was too late. Jonathan hadn't been backing up in fear. He had been backing up to be within reach of a small crystal statue. As soon as James spotted it within Jonathan's reach, Jonathan lunged - faster than James thought possible - and seized the statue in one second, and in the next, had cracked it squarely over James's head, sending him sprawling to the floor. The last thing he heard was the sound of breaking glass and Lydia's muffled cry.

James wasn't out long.

With a groan, James tried to push himself up, but his head was spinning too much for him to coordinate his body. He tried to reach up to touch his throbbing head, but found that his hands were bound. Blinking, he looked around the room stupidly, trying to make his mind focus on what was happening around him. Jonathan had tied him up and secured in in a corner so that he was unable to move. He was completely trapped and unable to help Lydia - and unable to save her from what was about to happen.

Jonathan had turned back to Lydia, breathing heavily. His pants were opened at the top, but he didn't even bother to pull them down, and James could see Jonathan's hardened cock sticking out of them. Lydia was still struggling fiercely, but the cords were tied too tightly and she couldn't break free. Her struggling only seem to entice Jonathan as he approached her again breathlessly.

Lydia looked up at James pleadingly. She knew he had tried, but it wasn't enough. Jonathan resumed his position behind her and flipped up her dress over her back. "Please tell me you haven't slept with that boy," he said, placing his fingers back at her dampened panties. "I would hate to think that you lost your virginity to a stablehand. No? Excellent. Then it's mine for the taking!" He grinned at James. "Don't don't worry. I'm going to let you watch. And before I fire you, I might let you have a go at her, too. Maybe."

"Here we go, sister," he breathed in Lydia's ear as he leaned over her prone body. "I know you'll like this - "

James closed his eyes, but he heard the awful squelch and the muffled shriek that Lydia made as Jonathan thrust into her. He felt sick to his stomach as he heard every sound: Jonathan's lustful groans, Lydia's weeping, the slick sounds of his penis thrusting brutally into her, and the slapping of his hips against hers. Finally, Jonathan let out a cry and Lydia whimpered weakly and it was over.

Panting, Jonathan collapsed onto the chair next to the couch, looking rather pleased with himself. Jonathan took a steadying breath then rose to his feet and began to dress himself again. It didn't take long - he had only opened his pants in the first place to rape her. With a quiet zip, his pants were back on and in a minute, he looked the part of the Covington heir again.

"Well," he murmured, "that was exquisite. Who would have known, sweet one, that you were so good?" He smiled at his sister, who was still shaking, tears rolling down her cheeks. Jonathan reached out and stroked her cheek. "Don't you cry, sister. This isn't the only time. You'll get this pleasure many, many more times again."

The three of them stayed there for some time; Jonathan basking in his afterglow, Lydia crying silently, and James feeling nothing but a horrible sense of failure and a burning anger to punish Jonathan for what he had done. Lydia and James waited in the semi-darkness helplessly, as they were both tied up and at Jonathan's mercy when suddenly, the door opened - and for one glorious moment, James thought someone was coming to save them. But then, only a small, slight figure stood in the doorway, staring at the scene before him. It was William, the lord's youngest son.

"William!" Jonathan exclaimed, looking annoyed as he half-rose from his chair in alarm. "What the devil are you doing here?"

William's wide, innocent eyes traveled from Jonathan to Lydia. "I heard a noise - " He said quietly, his gaze resting on his bound and struggling sister on the couch. "Why is Lydia tied up?"

Jonathan glanced at his sister. "Because she misbehaved," he said simply. For a moment, he looked at William, then a slow smile flickered on his lips. "Tell me, William, what happens to us when we misbehave?"

William again looked hesitant and entirely out of place in the library. His eyes traveled again around the room: from Jonathan lounging in a chair, to Lydia bound, gaged, and weeping, to James who was still struggling fiercely against his ties, and back to Jonathan, who continued to look smug. William drew in a steadying breath, unsure of what else to do but answer the question. "Father - father spanks us," he whispered.

"Yes," Jonathan said, his smile widening. "But Father's not here. So I have to punish Lydia. She was doing very, very bad things. Do you understand, William?"

"What did she do?" William looked too afraid to move, let alone disagree or question his older brother.

"Grown up things," Jonathan answered shortly. "So now I'm going to punish her. One day I'll be the man of this house. And that means I sometimes have to punish you and Lydia if Father's not around. Do you understand this?" Jonathan didn't bother to wait for a response. He was already smiling again as he slowly approached Lydia, who was still crying, desperately struggling against her bonds.

William's eyes looked down to Lydia's abused folds, red and raw, leaking with a pearly white fluid mixed with the crimson red sign of her virginity. Then his eyes darted to James, then back to Jonathan. Where Jonathan had hastily rezipped his pants, after stuffing his slackened and dirtied cock back into them, he hadn't bothered to look to see if there was any evidence there. And on the crotch of his trousers was a crust of drying white fluid and a smear of red, from where his hips had mashed against his sister's as he raped her. His cum and her blood were drying on the crotch of his pants, there for all to see. William's eyes looked from Jonathan to Lydia, then to James. And suddenly, James felt a shock of horror as he realized what the look in William's eyes was: he knew what had happened. He knew exactly what Jonathan had done. And he wasn't saying a word.

"William," Jonathan breathed softly, his hand already drifting to his groin as his eyes strayed from Lydia to William. "Close the door. I don't want anyone else to see this." Slowly, his hand traveled over his sister's body, moving over her milky skin tenderly. His other hand fumbled with his belt buckle while Lydia screamed even more loudly through the gag. "Her punishment will be between the three of us, yes?"

With a grin, Jonathan ripped Lydia's slip open, letting the shredded fabric fall around her vulnerable form. "William," he said softly. "You heard what father said about loyalty to this family. If anyone asks what happened to dear Lydia, what do you tell them?"

William's eye widened as he looked at his brother. "Jonathan - you can't - "

"I can. And I will. It is my right!" Jonathan stroked his hardened cock as he started at William. "I am the heir to this family! I am the eldest son! So eIther you can accept it and keep your mouth shut or I'll make sure that the same happens to you. Is that what you want?"

William faltered at that. "No."

Jonathan slowly swung his hips around so that his swollen penis was visible. "Then who did this?" he whispered. "Me? Or that stablehand there? Who raped your sister?" He rubbed his penis against Lydia's folds, making her close her eyes, sobbing quietly.

William swallowed. "He did," he whispered, his voice soft and horrified sounding.

Jonathan plunged with a sickening thrust into Lydia again, who shrieked through the gag. "Did you see this happen? Did you see him abuse her?" He began to thrust in hard, brutal jabs in his sister, who could only close her eyes, whimpering as Jonathan began to thrust into her yet again.

William looked away. "Yes. I saw him do it."

"Good. Now stay here and enjoy the show."

William obeyed. But he enjoyed no part of it.

****

That day would stay with James for years.

After Jonathan had had his way with Lydia multiple times - until she no longer cried and merely laid on the couch helplessly, a deadened look in her eyes - he turned his gaze to James. To him, sex was all about his pleasure - he didn't care about the pain of others. And so he had no qualms about raping James as well.

When he was finished with them both, Jonathan dragged them to his father's office. Roger took one look at the broken, bleeding stablehand, and waved him away with his hand. "Get him off the grounds," he said before turning away. "See to it that he's not heard from again."

James was pushed aside at that, and in his weakness he fell to the ground. As one of the servants hauled him to his feet, he could hear Roger and Jonathan talking as Lydia stared with deadened eyes at the floor.

" - no one will have her now that she's deflowered! You should have contained yourself until she was older, boy!"

"It doesn't matter! I heard her talking with the servants. She's friends with them. She wants to help them, even if it means branding us. She was going to try to ruin our family! I had to do something - "

"You should have left her to me! I make the decisions in this house, boy! If you ever think of doing something like that again, you - "

Their voices faded as James collapsed into the servants' arms, unable to remain conscious any longer.

James awoke to find himself laying on the side of the road, halfway to town and dressed in rags with not a drop to his name. Bruised, bleeding, and defeated, he was utterly lost. He didn't know what would happen to Lydia, he feared that Susan would be punished or worse - and he was completely alone and without anyone in the world to help him.

After that fateful day, he had been banished from the grounds, and he had no choice but to return to his life as a street orphan. He learned more skills of the trade: how to disappear when needed, how to pick pockets, how to spot a mark, how to read people. Of course, there were other skills he learned that he'd rather not dwell on: which foods in the dumpsters wouldn't make him sick, which streets belonged to which gang, and, of course, the most important skill of a young, formerly healthy boy: how to please the wealthy men and women whose eyes caught him on the street. The first few times he had done it out of desperation, but soon, he began to learn some of the tricks, some of the skills, and he quickly realized how useful they could become as he started to reap the rewards. The more skilled you were in spotting clients, the more you got. And James was good at spotting them. He was also good at spotting the wealthy ones; his years at the Manor had taught him how to recognize the finest of clothing and horses, so he quickly learned how to find the right marks.

Later, he heard that Miss Lydia, the sweet darling child of the Covington family, had died from a mysterious illness. He cursed himself for that - for feeling helpless, for being helpless - for not stopping it from happening. He told himself that he had done all he could - but the fact was that he wasn't strong enough. He wasn't powerful enough. And until he was, families like the Covington's would continue to do such terrible things.

By the time he found his Mistress, he had acquired a decent amount of money. He was still poor, yes, but servicing high-end cliental gave him more money than pickpocketing ever could. And besides, he was growing up rapidly - pickpocketing was better suited for young boys with small hands. But his Mistress had put an end to his street roaming. She had enough money to support them both. And they didn't meet by accident. No, she had sought James out with a certain proposition: she wanted to destroy the Covington family. And she had a feeling that James would be only too happy to assist her.

Planning his revenge on the Covington's was something that took a great deal of time and training. It had been over a decade since he had last been to the Manor - and James had been very busy since.

Roger, he decided, would be the first to go. He would be punished for not stopping Jonathan when he had the chance, for believing in his son, even though he was nothing short of a sociopathic monster, and for not protecting his daughter and letting her die, simply to avoid the scandal. Once Roger fell, next would be Jonathan. For Jonathan, James had a special revenge in store for him; he ran it by his Mistress, who seemed quite happy with his idea and gave him permission to proceed. William, he decided to punish last - mostly because he wasn't sure of what he wanted to do with him yet. While James knew that William needed to be punished, he also recognized that the poor boy was living in a constant state of fear and was far too kind-hearted to stand up for himself or others. But, it was still partially his fault for not stopping or speaking up about what happened to Miss Lydia. William could have saved Lydia, James, and countless other people if he had just done something.

The hardest part of his plan was the waiting. After James met his Mistress, she instructed him to be patient while they concocted their revenge. In his wrath, he declared the only punishment that would be justice for them would be to burn the whole manor down - give them a taste of earthly fire before they felt the flames of hell. But his Mistress hushed him. She told him no, that wouldn't do. They needed to wait. There was a better plan, a better revenge. But all in good time. He hated waiting, but he listened and obeyed and had to admit - she was right. This plan was certainly better.

But now he had to wait again. Everything was prepared, everything in place, but he couldn't make his move yet. He had to wait at the Manor until the perfect opportunity presented itself. Then, he could begin the final stage of his plan. He prayed it wouldn't be long.

In the end, it only took three days before he had his chance. He spent his days fucking William and eating well with Jonathan before Roger caught him alone and asked him to accompany him to the stables to look at a horse. James, of course, was only too happy to oblige.

And so it begins...

****

Roger stood in front of the stall, inspecting the horse with his hands behind his back. His dark eyes were shrewd, and they swept over every inch of the horse to spot possible problems. "As I said, Jonathan tells me that you're quite skilled with horses. I claims the Reynault family's horses are prized studs."

"They are, sir," James supplied easily, watching the man inspect the horse. Roger had called him into the stables to discuss horse breeding with him and while James certainly did enjoy discussing the subject, he was a little distracted with preparing the spell. Now is the time! He told himself eagerly. Soon, the first part of the finale of his plan would be enacted.

Roger didn't seem to notice James's eagerness or his anxiety. "Tell me, then, what sort of success rates do your stud's lines have? Money to breed isn't the question here, it's the success rate of your horses' lineage. I don't want to spend time breeding my mares if it'll all be for nothing."

James groaned inwardly. It was difficult to mentally prepare for a spell like this when he was constantly being assaulted with questions. He forced himself to smile. "The studs' success rates are some of the highest in the lands, sir. While I can't guarantee anything, I can certainly assure you that your best chances for a strong line are with one of my stallions."

"Hmm," Roger paused, considering what to say next. And that was all the time James needed to mentally recite a spell to prepare himself, then begin the first part of Roger's punishment. Roger didn't notice the slight ripple in the air as the first part of the spell leeched onto him. He was too busy running figures in his head as he stared at the horse, a slight frown on his face.

"Well, I think perhaps I'll run it by one of my head groomsmen to - to - " He stopped, his face suddenly paled, and the frown on his lips deepened. He opened his mouth to speak again, but the spell was already taking hold and he stumbled forward as his legs wobbled, then collapsed.

James caught him deftly and without missing a beat, dragged Roger's shaking body into the next stall. _Everything was going to plan. _ But he had to act fast. Stunning Roger would only buy him a few short minutes' worth of time - and the spell was a long, drawn-out one. As soon as Roger's legs gave out, James's clock began.

"Calm down, my lord," he drawled, latching the stall door shut behind him. "The feeling will pass, I assure you. You'll be feeling right as rain in just a few minutes." He smiled down at Roger as his body quivered from the spell. "This might feel a bit strange, but don't worry. I know what I'm doing." James smiled again down at Roger's confused face and reached out his hands towards the older man and began to speak in a strange language, this time reciting a spell to begin the transformation. Not that Roger had any idea what was going on. If only he had paid attention to all his magic-working servants, he might have learned a thing or two about it. He might have been able to protect himself. But Roger never bothered dabbling in a "poor man's hobby." And now was about to learn intimately how powerful such a thing could be -

This time the magic pulsed, Roger could feel the spell. The strange, invisible tendrils of magic that whirled around him before anchoring themselves in his very bones felt strange and weren't exactly painless: they caused his blood to stir and his bones to ache as the magic seeped deep inside his body, worming its way into his very form. He felt weak and flushed all at the same time and his mind wouldn't stop whirling. Groaning, he tried to collect his thoughts and steady himself, but it only resulted in him almost overbalancing on the floor again.

"Shhh, shhh," James said soothingly, reaching out to steady Roger as he grunted in pain. "It'll pass, it'll pass. Don't worry. Everything is going to be alright."

Roger shuddered in James's grasp, trying to pull away from the boy, but unable to do so because of the strange rippling sensation running through him. "What - what did you - what did you do to me?" he hissed, faintly finding his voice as his body continued to tremble as he finally gave up fighting and collapsed wearily against the wall. "What was that?"

"What did I do to you?" James repeated, gently stroking Roger's arm with a firm caress. "I am taking out my vengeance. A vengeance that I swore to take years ago when you first wronged me - and, of course, your daughter."

"My daughter - " Roger hissed as he tried to push James away weakly. "S-she's dead - "

"Can't bear to say her name?" James taunted. "I wouldn't be able to, either, if I were you."

Roger ground his teeth as another wave of pain washed over him. "I don't know what you are talking about! Help me!"

"I am helping you," James said simply. "I'm helping you atone for the sins that you've made. And maybe one day, you'll understand every wrong that you've committed and you'll actually regret your actions. But until then, you must suffer my revenge."

When Roger only grunted, trying to catch his breath, James calmly continued. "Don't remember me, my lord?" he spat out the last words mockingly. "I don't blame you. I was just a boy when we first met. I worked in these stables as a stablehand. I was friends with your daughter. And I was there that day - I was there when you let your son rape us both, and then you did nothing." James's eyes were hard as he stared at Roger with complete disgust. Roger, for his part, only widened his eyes in surprise, then hardened them again to meet James's gaze. He wasn't willing to admit anything and probably never would.

"Lord Roger Covington," James breathed softly, "for the abuse your staff has suffered at your hands, for the inhumane treatment you've inflicted on your fellow human beings, and for your complete indifference towards your own daughter, you will be punished." James leaned in closer. "Know this, Roger. You will be punished and made to take on a new form. If you manage to live your life with humility and wight he reasoning and control of a human being, then one day I will turn you back into a man. If you succumb to your lusts and your vile ways, you will be trapped as an animal for the rest of your days. Do you understand this?"

Roger groaned, finally giving up pushing James away. The spell had taken hold and he had weakened greatly. He could only stare at James furiously in disbelief and anger. He didn't believe James yet; he didn't see him as a threat. Roger Covington thought he would be able to use his money, power, and influence to worm his way out of this one, too. James smiled sadly to himself. Roger, apparently, did not know him very well at all.

James watched him with some measure of pity in his eyes. Transformations were rarely an easy thing; they literally wrecked havoc on the body. But he would help Roger through it; he wasn't nearly as cruel as Roger was to him. "Don't worry," James said quietly. "You won't like this at first, but in time, you'll adjust. Just try to relax. It'll be easier that way."

Roger shuddered again, his body shaking with even more force than before. James watched with some interest; he loved watching transformations. He found them to be exhilarating - and rather arousing.

This was probably the strangest part of the plan. When his Mistress had helped concoct is, she insisted that the Covington's punishment be not just transformations to change and shame them, but a deeper humiliation: a deep-seeded one rooted in lust and desire. She knew that James had no qualms with anything that was pleasurable: when men are forced on the street, it was common knowledge that they often are forced to perform certain acts. James never liked doing it, but he learned to not mind it, either. And this would be different. He would be in control. He would be the one seeking pleasure, just like he did with William. Those encounters, he did not mind. So she insisted that the magic he perform be sex magic. At first he wasn't fond of the idea; why would he want to sleep with the people he hated? But then he remembered what they had done to Lydia and he realized that they deserved to be humiliated in exactly the same way.

James stroked Roger's head as the man's struggling stilled. "Don't worry. I'm not going to kill you" James murmured in Roger's ear. "You don't deserve death. You deserve to suffer." He felt Roger stiffen in his arms. "But I'll be there to help you get through it. After all, I take good care of my workers." James's hand strayed to his trousers and he briefly gripped his growing erection. Revenge was very sweet...

****

Roger blinked, trying to remember what had just happened to him - he had been in walking with Jonathan's friend on the grounds - and suddenly found himself sitting slumped over against a wall in the stables! What had happened? _ Brief images flashed through his mind: James telling him that he was the first part of his plan, the sharp blow to his head, and a terrible sound: chanting; something inhuman and eerie that made his very bones ache. He blinked again, trying to force his eyes to focus so he could figure out what was going on. Yes, he was in the stables. He could smell the scent of hay and manure, and he recognized the dark wood paneling that was so distinctive in the stalls. _Someone will come, he told himself confidently. The grooms constantly paced their halls, keeping their eyes on the horses. One of them would come and help his master. But in the meantime, Roger wasn't about to sit back and wait for someone to rescue him - he was going to get out of this ridiculous situation and then reign hell on the bastard who dared to do this to him!

His breath whistled through his lips in a hiss as he tried to roll over and push himself to his feet. It was impossible! Every time he attempted to move, his limbs felt like lead and his heart thudded painfully in his chest until he gave up and collapsed uselessly back against the wall of the stall. Pain rolled through Roger's body with every breath he took. What was happening to him?

His mind was still reeling with what was happening: part of him wanted to lash out, to assert his dominance over this boy who thought he could best him, and another part of his mind was brimming with questions and confusion. The lad said something about revenge; but Roger didn't know this so-called Lord Reynault - this mere boy! Roger took in another steadying breath - he needed to stay calm. He didn't know what was happening. He wasn't sure why he was unable to move or why his body hurt so much, but when he got out of this, that boy would have hell to pay.

"Careful there," a voice said quietly. James! _ Roger thought angrily, spotting James leaning casually on the stall door, watching Roger. _ James seemed unconcerned at the furious look on Roger's face and continued to watch him with a strange look in his eyes. Almost as if he were hungry. That look was unnatural and unsettling and made Roger try to roll away. Something about that boy - something wasn't right. But as Roger tried to push himself away, he felt his limbs cramping up and he collapsed weakly back against the stall wall. _This was most unbecoming! _ He was a _Covington! _ If this so-called lord thought he could put him in this sort of position, he was seriously mistaken.

James glanced casually down at his pocket watch. "Just give it a few minutes. I promise, after that you'll be able to move freely again. This spell tends to work rather quickly. And then your part in this plan will be almost complete."

Spell?! What in the hell was that boy talking about? Jonathan had brought home a mad-man! _ _ Roger groaned inwardly. Jonathan was never as thorough as his father was and always assumed he had the upper hand on people - Roger should have had someone look into this James himself before he let the lunatic enter his home. But he had dealt with men trying to take over his business or a cut of his profits before - though no one who had managed to drug him like this before - but he'd gain the upper hand soon, he was certain. And then he'd destroy James for this - the fool!

Cursing inwardly, Roger attempted to figure out what was happening to him and looked down to try to figure out why his arms weren't working the way he wanted them to. They didn't seem to want to move, nor did his fingers seem to want to unclench, though he stared at them willfully. Was this some sort of drug? _ Roger quickly went over all the things he had eaten that day - it didn't seem likely. And the servants would never _dare put anything in his food that he did not want; they knew better than to even fathom defying him. Then what was happening?

A sudden itching sensation seemed to take hold of him. He sucked in his breath sharply as he felt his body tense up and his chest tightened, making it difficult for him to breathe. Roger tried to clutch his chest with his hand by trying to reach his hand up and try to at least feel for the problem, but his hands still wouldn't obey him. But, they seemed different now. Before they had seized up and he had dismissed it as some sort of drug, but now he was sure it was a sort of toxin that was doing this. His hands were darker now. Not just darker or tanned, but literally duskier. He watched with wide eyes as his fingertips darkened so that they were almost black and then watched as the color began to spread.

What is this? he thought in a panic. He had never heard of such a poison - if something like this had existed, he would have been using it to threaten people long ago. What sort of thing caused paralysis and blackening of the skin? A soft grunt of surprise pushed from his lips before he was able to think of any more possible culprits. His heart was still beating rapidly in his chest and his arms were darkening, too. Groaning, he slid sideways from his sitting position onto the hay-covered floor, completely unable to support himself any longer as all of his limbs went limp.

As he laid on the ground, wondering how much pain he would go through until the end, the itching sensation seemed to only grow. At first, it had been a minor tickling, all over his body. But now, it was a full on-itch that extended from his head and back of his neck all the way down his spine to all over his body. He didn't understand what this could be - it didn't hurt, it was just uncomfortable and startling. Roger hated that he wasn't able to comprehend what was happening to his body; he hated not being in control.

Roger laid on the ground for another minute, breathing heavily as he felt his body slowly begin to heat up from the inside - a boiling hot heat that seared his bones and boiled in his blood - that temporarily made him forget about his darkening, itchy skin. He would have cried out in pain, but whatever was paralyzing him reduced his shout down to a meager, half-hearted moan that only barely escaped from his throat. The heat flared again, and then began to ebb away. Roger closed his eyes. He didn't know what was happening to him, but he wanted it to stop.

Roger heard the sound of a latch lifting and then soft footsteps crunching the hay and suddenly, James was at his side, his smiling face looming over Roger's body. "Don't worry," James said as he squatted down next to Roger's mostly motionless body. James's hand reached out and gently stroked the side of Roger's face, making Roger's heart lurch in his chest. What was going on? "I'm going to help you with this," James murmured softly. "Sometimes, these things can take a while to run their course, but that only makes it more painful." More painful! Roger thought. _What the devil is he talking about? What is he doing to me? _ James 's hand left Roger's face and drifted down to his chest. Deftly, he began to unbutton Roger's shirt, carefully pulling the fabric from the older man. "There," he said, his eyes roving over Roger's chest with a strange look in his eye. "This will help ease your transition, I promise."

_Transition!? _ Roger thought as outrage coursed through him. His mind whirled in fury and in fear: for the first time in a very long time, he had absolutely no idea what this boy was about to do to him - and that frightened him. Roger had always prided himself in being able to read and predict other people - it's what made him such a good business man - but with James he had no idea what was about to happen or even what he wanted in the first place. _Was this what he wanted? To leave the great Lord Covington naked and frozen in the middle of a horse's stall? _ Roger knew that such a plan was unlikely, which meant whatever James's real plan was was probably much, much worse.

"Now," James said, in a falsely cheery voice, "we need to get those pants off." Oh, no you don't! Roger thought furiously, but he was helpless to stop James. He laid there, motionless, as James began to undo his pants, unable to fight the young man off. Once James tugged his boots and his pants off, Roger was left splayed on his side, naked in the middle of a stall in quite possibly the most disgraceful and undignified position possible. James looked him over the way one might appraise a animal in the stocks, and nodded to himself in approval. He crouched next to Roger and began to rub his ears in a slow, but not altogether unpleasant manner, until they began to tingle, as if they had gone numb.

"Alright," James said. "Now it's time to start speeding things up a bit to send you on your way. It might hurt, but you'll be able to move soon. Just try to enjoy this while you can. I give you my word that I'll make this experience a pleasurable one."

Roger wondered for a moment what on earth James could be talking about when James suddenly reached down and took Roger's soft cock into his hands. Roger's eyes widened in fear and disgust. What was he doing? _ He didn't want another man to fondle him! He liked _women! This was beyond reprehensible! He was a noble lord of a great family lying helpless on the floor of a stable, naked, and being fondled by a deviant and helpless to stop it! Roger grunted in displeasure as James's finger gently teased and prodded at his limp shaft.

"Not much to work with at the moment, eh?" James said quietly, smiling to himself as he expertly wrapped his fingers around Roger's stubbornly limp shaft. "Strange - I always heard you were a hit with the ladies. Or, at least, you made advances that they couldn't refuse." His fingers squeezed the soft flesh a little harder, making Roger grunt. "Don't you worry, Roger," James whispered with a smile. "I'll take good care of this. Soon, your pride and joy will be the talk of the stables."

Gently, James began to slide his hand up and down the length of Roger's flaccid cock, murmuring something in a strange tongue as he did so. Roger vainly tried to pull himself away from the man, but whatever had paralyzed him still had a hold on him and all he could do was twitch and make soft sounds in the back of his throat. So Roger was forced to lay sprawled on the stable floor while James continued to stroke his cock and murmur nonsense to himself. At first, Roger stubbornly ignored James's ministrations - but after a minute, the pleasure radiating from James's fingers caressing his cock began to overpower him.

Against Roger's will, his cock had begun to rise. The lad was good at this: James had rubbed Roger's shaft in all the right spots, his fingers teasing and moving in gentle patterns all over Roger's sensitive flesh until he felt a surge of arousal push into his penis. Roger vainly tried to hold it back, but he couldn't deny how good James's fingers felt. He let out another grunt as his cock slowly began to engorge, much to James's delight.

"Ahh, there we are now," James murmured, now sweeping one of his hands over Roger's body, caressing his thighs, torso, and back with one hand while the other continued to fondle and squeeze Roger's hardening prick. "Let's move things along, shall we?" He grinned at Roger, then bent his head down to Roger's groin.

Roger's eyes widened in shock and his gasp of surprise and pleasure was caught in his throat as James's mouth plunged down around his cock.

Roger struggled to move, heedless of the different sensations that were beginning to course through his helpless body. He tried to not listen to the soft suckling sounds as James nursed on his shaft, but the feeling of the young man's mouth wrapped around his cock was beginning to get to him. _No! _ he told himself, _think of anything - anything but this!! _ He tried to focus on the other changes that were sweeping through his body: the strange tingling sensation in his ears, the prickling sensation in his arms and legs, the numbed feeling in his hands and feet - but they were not enough to distract him from the pleasurable sensation in his crotch.

James moaned around the stiff flesh, sending pleasurable vibrations humming through Roger's prick as the first spurt of pre-cum welled at its tip, only to be diligently lapped up by James's lavishing tongue. As James continued to slide Roger's stiff length into his mouth and throat, his hands slipped down and began to play with Roger's swollen balls, rolling them around in his fingers and caressing their staining sack until Roger's body twitched mindlessly from the sensation. Roger's limbs kept twitching as he tried to move - though he wasn't entirely sure if he were moving to push James away or trying to grab James's head to force him farther down onto his cock - and he was beginning to no longer care. His mind was filling with a lust he hadn't experienced since his younger days - a lust that was completely consuming and all-encompassing, that clouded his mind was a need for pleasure.

Roger moaned aloud - finally letting a sound escape his throat - as James engulfed his rapidly hardening shaft into his mouth. Ohhhhhhh it felt so good! _ He knew it was wrong, he knew he didn't _want it, but he couldn't help but try to thrust his hips up into James's mouth, resulting in a shortened buck, to try to bury himself deeper into the mouth that was servicing him so very well. _Ohhhh his mouth is velvet! _

Roger was so caught up in the pleasures that James was providing that he failed to notice the changes that were beginning to affect his body. His legs and arms were already darkening in color and were rapidly growing black hair all over their surfaces. The tips of his ears were pointed and were slowly beginning to push out, growing longer and larger while his hands and feet were quickly warping into harder, more compact units. If he had cared to look, he would have realized that he had lost his hands long ago - or, at least, what used to be his hands. Now they were strange bestial appendages; the fingers had fused together into three distinct hardened digits, able to move, but hardly as dexterous as his fingers were before.

Roger whimpered, torn between being aroused and being horrified. He could feel his ears pushing out, elongating as they traveled up from the sides of his head until they reach the top, where they pushed out even more, then began to swivel on their own accord. His spine was growing, too. He could feel the dull ache at its base where something was forming, making him shiver fearfully as his skin began to stretch there. _What was happening?! _

James didn't miss a beat when he took Roger's legs and pulled them over his crouched body. Roger gasped as he felt his hips lifting into the air as James hoisted his legs over his shoulders and continued to swallow his cock with a renewed vigor. As James's head continued to bob on Roger's length, one of his hands crept down to Roger's thighs and began to run them in a soothing way, moving his fingers in comforting circles on Roger's darkening skin.

Roger's spine was still growing. Even with his legs hoisted on James's shoulders, his head was still as far away from James as it was before. He glanced down at himself. Before, he had been a strong, powerful man. Yes, he was getting up there in years, but his body was kept in peak physical condition. Now when he looked down at himself he saw that he had gotten taller - but not by a standard measure - he was freakishly taller: his torso was elongating to strange proportions, growing and stretching even as he continued to watch in horror. His skin - once a lightly tanned hue, smooth, and perfectly toned, had been changing since the beginning: his toned muscles remained and - if anything - were even more defined - but his skin was drastically different. Instead of looking down and seeing a smooth chest, he saw a long torso with dark skin that was beginning to grow lush, dark hair at an alarming rate.

Still, James continued, sucking expertly on his straining cock. Roger found that he could move again and reached down in a final effort to push James away in one of his dwindling moments of clarity, when he saw his hands for the first time since the change began. He cried out, sounding more like a neigh than a human sound as he saw his hoof-like hands: the fingers had shrunk to little, hardened nubs covered in what must have been his nails, but that were now a shiny, hard substance that was still traveling up towards his wrist. As Roger watched in horror, his finger nubs began to fuze together until he was unable to move them at all and was left with hooves that were completely useless for a human. _What was happening to him? _ Roger thought fearfully. But new sensations began to blossom in his body, distracting his panicked thoughts for a moment.

His penis was beginning to heat up. It was already hot, burning with need and arousal, but now it was literally heating up. Roger squealed, trying to grip the ground as he bucked his hips hard into James's mouth. It felt like he was getting an erection - but - he already had an erection. That was impossible! But that surging feeling was happening again and he swore he could feel himself getting hard, even though he knew he already was. James's steady sucking suddenly became interrupted and he sputtered, choking for a moment on Roger's precum. Coughing, James pulled his head back, his hands still working at the straining length of flesh as he withdrew, a sheepish smile on his face.

Roger bit back a cry, torn between horror and pride at what he saw. His penis was almost a foot in length and was still continuing to grow - and even worse: a strange, fleshy tube was beginning to grow up his cock as well, pulling his cock back against his stomach. He moaned as he watched the mushroom shaped head of it begin to flare out, growing heavy with blood before its tip flattened out, his urethra opening even wider so that instead of welling with precum he was literally pouring it from his newly enhanced equipment. A moment later, a loud moan escaped him as he felt his balls growing as well, swelling out to larger and larger proportions as they literally boiled with the new seed that was being poured into them.

He only stared at his strange cock for a moment before he started moaning again. The need was just too much. He had never felt so aroused, so desperately filled with lust before in all his life. And James - this human boy who sat between Roger's opened legs smiling, was causing far more pleasure than Roger could even imagine. Roger bucked his hips as James continued to stroke his growing cock, gasping in pleasure as his penis continued to surge out in size and length. As he watched, his penis began to darken, changing from a deep pink to a darker and darker red until it turned brown and then black, with patches of pink remaining on the girth. Mottled! _ He thought in shock. _A mottled cock! But - He didn't want to think about it. He knew what kind of animals had that sort of organ. As he moaned helplessly, Roger finally realized the inevitable: he really was transforming. This was no drug, no trick, this was actual magic and an actual spell. He was actually being transformed into something.

James was still caressing the length was two hands, running his soft skin up and down the brutally thick length. Roger's cock had to be almost two feet long now, and unforgivably thick. And it was still growing. Roger threw his head back and a strangled sound left his throat - almost a human cry, almost a squeal as James cupped his hands around his flaring head and tried again to fit Roger's tip into his mouth, before coughing as a syrupy gush of precum spurted from Roger's swelling cockhead .

"Sorry about that," James murmured, his hands still moving up and down Roger's firm length, though one slipped down to heft his massive balls. "I wasn't expecting you to get so big so fast. But look at you now?" He grinned wickedly as he squeezed Roger's cock, making Roger gasp. "I told you you'd be the pride of the stables." He smiled again, then went back to work on Roger's still-growing cock, though he didn't attempt to deep throat Roger again.

The changes were accelerating rapidly now, though Roger barely noticed. He could feel his dark hair receding into his scalp, while in other parts it continued to push out down his neck. His new ears were swiveling around, picking up the sounds of the stables: other horses grunting, the clopping of hooves, the slick sound of James suckling the steady stream of precum from his growing shaft. Fur was starting to grow all over his body, a luxurious dark grey color coat that rippled over his sweating body, giving his glossy new hide a faint sheen to it. Roger moaned again to James as the man continued to suck his cock, jacking the base with his hands and tonguing the tip while he continued to pull in Roger's drooling precum. Roger grunted as he felt his chest expand, the ribs cracking as they grew huge and barreled out from him. His already broad shoulders grew even broader and his neck began to lengthen and thicken, pushing his head farther away as more muscle was packed on.

"Ahhhh....ohhh, please!" he whimpered his voice sounding strange as he gasped out the plea, not entirely sure if he were asking James to stop or spurring him on. His jaw was hurting badly now, his teeth aching as some grew and some disappeared entirely. His face felt like it was on fire; the terrible burning sensation searing deep within his bones, making him throw his head back in pain. With a cracking sound, his jaw pushed out as he flared his nostrils._ _ Roger snorted as another burning sensation pulsed through his body, making him jerk where he laid on his back and tip over onto his side. He grunted, feeling his massive torso hit the hay-strewn floor, his longer limbs flailing helplessly as he failed to control them.

James suddenly backed off, coughing at Roger's sudden change in position that caused his massive cock to flop sideways from his groin. "Sorry there, chap," James said roughly, as his hands continued to jack the cock. "But I'm not sure how much more of you I can take."

_Nooooooo! _ Roger protested mindlessly, his jaw working soundlessly. _He was sooooo close! _ James couldn't stop now! He pushed his hips forward insistently at James's mouth, a high pitched sound erupting from his throat as he tried to push his cock back into that deliciously warm mouth.

There was a terrible pressure building in his joints - particularly his knees and elbows - and with a terrible crack he felt the joints snap into a new position, forcing him to stay on all fours. He snorted, his mind spinning as he tried to make sense of what was happening to him. Confusion swept through him, only adding to the fogs of lust that clouded his mind, making him unable to think straight. He needed - he wanted - he didn't know! He was on all fours, he was aroused, he was changing - Roger gasped as he felt his spine push out again, making his body even larger.

He heard his spine snap as it realigned itself and a moment later, he whickered as he felt his neck bending, too. And suddenly, he knew what he was. He knew what was happening to him. And though while he tried to deny it, he couldn't help but come to the conclusion that he was being transformed into a horse. How, he didn't know, but he realized in one of his last moments of clarity that he had drastically underestimated James. Whatever that man was, he was obviously immensely powerful and wielded a power that even Roger did not claim to possess.

His body was growing quickly now; rapidly gaining bulk and muscle until Roger practically filled the stall. He tried to cry out in alarm, but the only sound he managed to make was a sort of strangled whinny. James was no longer even in the stall now - Roger was changing alone, his body warping, growing, shifting as he cried out, making whickering sounds of fear and confusion. The pain, at least, had passed. All he had left was the demanding lust that inundated his mind as his massive penis spat out even more thick pre-cum beneath him. Finally, the changes seemed to ebb - all that remained was a sudden release of pressure at the base of his spine as a spill of silky hair burst forth, then everything stopped.

Gasping for breath, Roger looked down at himself. He was a horse. Not just any horse, but a draft horse. Massive, muscular, and powerful, he filled up most of the stall with his mass. He was sitting with his legs folded under him - but he could feel that they were legs, powerful legs, but still nothing more than that. No hands, no arms, just the four legs of an animal. His body was covered in dark grey fur and he could just glimpse the spill of a black mane running down his long neck. Snorting, he inadvertently swished his tail, feeling surprised as he felt it move across his rump before stilling again.

But there was something else that was different. Something that wasn't there before and wasn't just a new part of his body. There was a presence in his mind - just a small, fleeting murmur in the corner, but he could feel it. It was simple and unassuming, but Roger immediately knew that it was far more familiar with this scenario than he was. A moment later, he felt the new part of his consciousness push him gently, and suddenly he was on his feet - all four of them - without really realizing how to move. Some part of his mind was now horse-like and knew how to move, how to behave, and how to react as a horse. Roger let the horse mind move his body into a more comfortable position - it was better than falling over himself.

****

Roger pranced in the stall, unable to help himself. He knew something was terribly, terribly wrong, but at the moment, he couldn't quite place it - his mind was far too clouded to make sense of anything. He was different, he knew that much, but he wasn't even sure if he minded or not. He didn't know if he should be mad or outraged or confused. All he knew was that he was sooooo aroused and that he wanted that pleasure to return. He would do anything for that pleasure.

James laughed, watching the newly-made horse toss his head in frustration. The transformation had gone incredibly well; far smoother than many tended to go. Deftly, he fitted a harness onto Roger's face before the horse could collect his thoughts and try to fight back or escape. The poor beast was far too aroused and too confused to care at the moment, though. While Roger blinked in confusion, James clipped a lead line to each side and secured them to either side of the stall, effectively making sure Roger didn't move around too much. But now he was left with a very aroused stallion. Not that he was worried about it; that, too, was part of the plan. First the body, then the mind, he thought to himself. Now it was time to have some real fun with Roger.

"Who's a handsome stallion?" he asked, smiling as he reached down and began to undo his own shirt. "Who's a pretty horse?"

Roger snorted, shaking his head in confusion. _Why was he being spoken to in that manner? Why was James removing his clothes? Why wasn't he touching him again? _ He didn't understand; too many things were happening, and the pleasure had stopped, making his mind whirl with questions and confusion and lingering lust. And under all of his thoughts was a quiet voice that whispered, "_When will he turn me back?" _ But that voice was quiet and almost immediately ignored. There were more important things to think about now -

James slid out of his pants and undergarments and folded them carefully before placing them just outside the stall door. He turned and looked the horse over again, watching the stallion's body ripple with power with a nod of satisfaction. Yes, he thought, _this suits him well. _

James reached up and stroked Roger's head lovingly. "Who's a good boy?" he murmured, feeling the velvety-soft fur of the horse under his fingers. "You were made for this, weren't you? You make such a good horse, Roger."

Roger's mind whirled as he attempted to think past the fog that was rapidly clouding his mind. He wasn't supposed to be a horse. He was human. He was a human man and shouldn't be in a stall! But...some part of him whispered about the pleasure; the pleasure he had just felt, the wonderful, powerful feeling of this new and improved body. And, he ever so desperately wanted to feel what it was like to feel that pleasure as a true horse. Perhaps the human boy next to him would provide him with a mare...

James watched Roger's eyes carefully. There were some moments where the horse looked at him clearly - and with obvious hatred - but there were other moments where the horse simply blinked at him, slowly succumbing to the spell. As a human, Roger was unable to overcome his lustful tendencies. He fucked everything under the sun - willing or not. And James planned on using that against the former human. Now, as a horse, and with his animal instincts running rampant, Roger had the choice before him if he wanted to try to overcome his tendencies - or embrace them. James watched carefully, but soon it became all too clear that Roger had surrendered to his horse mind and wanted the pleasure again.

Of course, Roger wouldn't lose his mind completely. That would ruin the point of the spells and make his revenge less sweet. No, Roger would always be somewhat aware of who he was and what had happened. That was why James planned on taking out the rest of his revenge on Roger's family in the barn in front of Roger. He wanted the man to watch his family be destroyed. And then he wanted the man to beg to partake in the most shameful of activities.

"Oh, and look?" James said, almost mockingly as he looked down at the swollen cock between Roger's legs. "What's this? Someone's a bit turned on, mmm?"

Roger snorted as he felt the fingers probe under his tail again, gently questing for a specific spot while he stood still, unable to will himself to move. He whickered in alarm when he felt the fingers push against his tail hole, making him flex it at the feeling of someone touching it, then the finger began to slowly worm its way around his hole. Roger tossed his head. No, this couldn't be happening! What was that boy trying to do? Roger's mind was clouded, fogged with lust and the desire to fuck something. His human rationale was struggling, trying to alert his mind that something was terribly, terribly wrong, but the stallion part of his mind hushed it, reassuring himself that soon, he would be able to breed. And that pleasure alone would be worth it. The human part of Roger's mind protested weakly once more, but at the sensation of the human's hand gently squeezing his cock, the stallion mind took over completely and Roger's human mind finally quieted.

"There we go," James murmured, watching as the horse's eyes dulled from their furious look into one of compliance. The spell was finally taking hold. And the stallion that was Roger would now be far more open to ...suggestion. James smiled wickedly. "Good boy," he whispered. "Such a good horse."

James returned his fingers to Roger's hole and gently pushed one inside. Roger breathed deeply, feeling something probing inside him for the first time. And it wasn't unpleasant, either. It felt...good. James began to pick up a steady rhythm, gently sliding his finger into Roger, worming it around, then gently withdrawing it. Roger whickered again. Whatever the boy was doing, he couldn't deny that it felt good. His fingers probed and rubbed on his insides in a way that he had never imagined possible before - let alone even pleasurable. But with each questing touch, little pinpricks of pleasure lit up inside him, calming him and making more blood surge into his heavy cock. Roger felt his hole wrapping tightly around James's finger, feeling his inner walls flex in anticipation at what might happen next. He felt his tail lift and move to the side, giving James even more access to him.

James paused for a moment. "Good boy," he said again. "Just be patient. I'm sure you'll like this even more."

Roger tried to turn around to see what James was doing, but at that moment, James suddenly leaned forward, using his hands to open Roger's ass up even more, then buried his face in Roger's hole. Roger snorted in alarm, unsure of what was happening. He could feel the warmth of James's breath, he could feel James's slick fingers gripping his rump hard, he could feel...a tongue?!? Roger squealed in surprise. THe sensation was faint, but it was there. Something hot and slippery was probing deep into him, writhing around in his insides, causing countless waves of pleasure to wash over him. His tail flipped up in surprise and his legs trembled as he stood as still as he could in his stall, basking in the pleasure James was giving him.

After a while, Roger's cock was literally dumping loads of precum onto the stall floor below him, his long cock bowing with its own weight as James continued to service him. James was doing something different now, too. Instead of that wonderful tongue, he seemed to be working harder on forcing more saliva into Roger's hole. Roger forced himself to remain still as he felt more of James's saliva being spit into him. _Why would James do that? _

Suddenly, the tongue and the fingers were gone, leaving Roger was his straining cock and an empty, but wet, feeling inside him. He heard James moving behind him, a sound like he was pushing a hay bale or something similar. _What was going on? _ Then James's fingers returned, gently probing a final time into his hole, making him move his tail automatically again for James to access. But this time when the fingers left, something else returned to replace them. For a moment, Roger simply stood still, trying to fathom what the new thing could be. It was thicker than the fingers, and the tip of it was wet, too. He heard James let out a soft sigh as the human's arms wrapped around his rump and gripped him as the new object pushed against his hole.

"Mmmm," James murmured as he caressed the horse, a sinister glint in his eyes as he slowly stroked his hardened cock. "You're going to enjoy this."

Roger's ears flicked back at that. _Enjoy what? _ And then, half a second too late, Roger realized what was about to happen.

He shuddered and let out a cry as James sank inside of him, his entire body trembling with a conflicting mix of both need and confusion. His passage strained against the invader buried deeply inside of him, flexing rhythmically as it swallowed tightly around James's cock. Roger couldn't move - he was so exhausted from the transformation and still unsteady on his legs that he wasn't even sure how to move - and then a soft voice came back, whispering in his mind that he wanted this. Roger snorted in surprise, feeling James's balls gently nudge his own swollen orbs as James rested for a moment on his back. _He wanted this? _ Roger shook his head. He never wanted this! How on earth did that thought even manage to stray in his mind in the first place...?

James made a soft sound and patted Roger's rump, muttering, "Good boy, good boy," then gripped Roger's rump and began to pull himself out. Roger bit back a cry as James's penis began to slowly pull out again, letting his previously stretched passage warp back to its original size, aching at his exit.

"Alright," James whispered when he was almost completely out. "Here we go again."

Roger neighed in alarm. He thought the worst was over. He thought James only wanted to frighten him, to play a bit of a prank on him and his newfound body. But the scent of James's arousal was filling the stall. And it didn't smell too terrible - especially because it was spiced with the even sweeter scent of musk that was practically clouding Roger's senses. James pushed his penis back in with a soft grunt. "Relax," James murmured. "You'll loosen up soon."

Roger whickered nervously. Something was happening to him - something he could explain no better than the transformation that had taken his body from him. His mind was whirling with thoughts and impulses, but at the same time, it was slowing, laboring to think even of the simplest of thoughts. He could feel James's hands caressing his rump, his could feel the human's hardened shaft bumping against his sore pucker. But he could also smell the sweet scent of arousal. He could feel the essence in his balls churning in their sack as his cock swayed heavily beneath him. The voice in his mind whispered again, _he wanted this. _ Roger only snorted at that, shifting his weight nervously as he felt his pucker begin to stretch open again.

James thrust hard again into Roger, making the stallion squeal in pain and need. "Arghh yes!" James hissed under his breath. "Your ass is mine from now on."

Roger's eyes rolled in his head. The human's hand gripped at his rump and pulled him back into a sharp thrust that made his eyes bulge and a strange, bestial squeal come out from his lips. He tried to cut it off, but the animal sound escaped him as the lad sunk home, deep inside his quivering tunnel. His passage strained around the thickness and he felt the heavy balls bumping right up against his larger, swollen ones. He barely had time to register that when the human hips drew away and the tugging sensation they made along his passage caused him to shudder and buck forward into the grip around his cock. He could feel the strands of precum splattering out not just against his stomach and forelegs, but hitting against the stall door as he did so.

The soft sound of laughter on his back didn't detract from his need as the human's hand reached down around his body and gently rubbed the skin of his sheath. Roger squealed at that: desperately wanting more, needing more of the human. He huffed in frustration as the hand slacked its grip on him. _Why would he stop now? _ Roger's mind was reeling, lost in the confusion of being transformed and then violated, and at the same time lost in the need to feel that delicious pleasure again, to feel his mighty pride stiffen with all its power and spray his virile seed. Roger whickered as the human's hand returned, feeling James's hand pumping down to his base before sliding up again. The feel of the soft fingers teasing around his crown was more than enough to force an equine snort past his muzzle. The thrust inwards spread that slick precum around the human cock as it drove back into his body again sending him bucking backwards.

He could hear James's hips slapping against his own as James thrust faster and faster, making Roger's balls jostle in their sack as James impaled himself into Roger faster and deeper so that he hit the right spot that made Roger's cock swell. A squealing cry escaped from his lips before he could help himself and he heard James laugh in response. "You like that, little stallion? You like feeling me deep inside you?"

Roger whickered helplessly. He couldn't really like this, could he? It was wrong! He didn't like this.

"Mmmm," James moaned. "Just you wait. I'll fuck you hard every day until you're begging me to breed you."

Roger whinnied in alarm. Would James really do this every day to him? He shuddered in horror as he realized that a part of him wanted James to. He wanted to feel James dominate him like this, use him and give him all this pleasure. He tried to fight it, but his throbbing cock slapping up against his belly told him the truth: he was aroused by this.

"You - will learn - to - enjoy - this," James grunted, thrusting hard into the whickering stallion.

Roger's eyes rolled in the back of his head while James continued to buck his hips into him. That pleasure - that feeling of the lad's cock plunging through his soft muscular rump sent ripples of pleasure through Roger. Part of his mind was horrified, part of his mind wanted a mare, and part of his mind was beginning to listen to what James was saying. Would he learn to enjoy this? It certainly wasn't nearly as bad as he originally thought it would be.

Roger grunted, listening to his own sounds of animalistic pleasure as James continued to thrust hard into him. His hips rocked in time with James's thrusting, trying to get the boy's cock as deeply into him as possible before the boy yanked it back out again. The sloppy sounds of sex rang through the stall as each of James's thrusts forced out more precum from Roger's ass and each of James's thrusts forced another load of Roger's own precum to well out of his own cock and splatter onto the floor. He could feel himself clenching around James's length, caressing the human's cock with his inner walls, coaxing the boy to treat him like a mare and claim him utterly. He didn't know why he wanted it, but the faster James thrust, the more and more his mind begged for the human to spear himself deeply into him and breed him.

"Yes," James gasped, unable to control himself any longer. "Yesssss take my seed! Ohhhh yesssss! Good horse!"

Roger squealed as he felt a hot liquid suddenly spurt deep inside him. It was such an alien sensation - but at the same time - with James crying out and shuddering on his back and that hot spurting deep inside him, Roger felt his own balls roll for a final time in their sack before he, too, came. His cock stiffened, growing even thicker than it was before, the head of it flaring to a huge size as the tip jutting outwards and he threw back his head and whinnied loudly in pleasure, calling out the moment of of climax to the entire barn. But he didn't care who heard him. he didn't care that there was a human boy on his back, buried inside him with a still-ejaculating cock blasting his human seed into his own bowels. All he cared about was that pleasure - his clenching balls, his flexing shaft, and then the massive load of boiling seed rushing down his long cock and bursting forth in frothing spurts from his tip. His tail flipped up into the air and his muscles quivered in excitement and pleasure as his hot seed sprayed all over his belly and front legs, coating the floor and wall of the stall as he pumped load after load of horse seed all over himself as James continued groaning atop him.

Roger panted roughly, feeling the last bit of seed dribble into him as James laid across his back, trying to catch his breath. Roger's own cock was beginning to soften now, drooping down to the stable floor, its swollen head oozing a substance thicker than seed onto the floor. He snorted, feeling strangely satisfied. He knew that he was a horse. He knew he had just been transformed and fucked by the boy whose cock was still up his ass and whose weight was still resting on his back. But while a part of his mind screamed at him to retaliate: to fight, to protest, to do something, a larger part of him was completely content. Roger whickered softly and rested, content to bask in the afterglow of their mating.

After a few more moments, Roger felt the boy groan softly and begin to tug himself from Roger's clenching tunnel. Roger tried to bite back a groan of loss, but it escaped his lips as the boy's hips jerked his softening cock from Roger's abused hole.

"Mmmm good boy," the boy murmured softly, trailing his hand over Roger's rump. After a pause, James wiped his slicked cock against Roger's rump and tail to clean himself. Roger felt a surge of shame wash through him at being used like that as the boy left a sticky trail of pearly evidence all over his dark fur, but still, he couldn't deny how good the boy's ministrations had felt. "I must say, I enjoyed that."

Roger whickered again. He could feel his hole oozing the boy's seed and though he felt sore, a part of him wanted to feel the boy deep within him again, giving him that pleasure -

"Well, Roger, you certainly made a mess," James laughed softly, ducking under Roger's frame. Roger barely even felt embarrassed as he felt the boy wrap his hands around his softening length and give it a tug as it continued to retract into his sheath. "But don't you worry. You'll have your mate soon. Until then, you'll just have to make do with me." James gently stroked the swollen area around Roger's abused pucker. "Because this is mine," he murmured, pushing his finger into Roger again.

Roger neighed, instinctually moving his tail to the side like a mare as he felt James's finger enter him. He knew he should be angry - he wasn't anyone's horse! But that outrage faded almost as soon as he felt it, immediately replaced by contentment. Yes, he was James's. James would take care of him. And James felt so good underneath his tail -

Roger snorted, suddenly horrified at what he was thinking. Why was this happening? _ But the answer came back as soon as he thought the question: _His ass belonged to James now...

James stood back and admired the newly-made horse. "My, my, just look at you. Aren't you simply magnificent?" James murmured as he reached up the stroke the stallion's soft flanks.

The horse whickered in confusion, his eyes rolling in his head as he tried to make sense of what had happened to him.

"Don't worry," James said, stepping carefully out of the stall and securing the latch behind him. "You'll have plenty of time to adjust to your new form. I promise you, you'll learn to enjoy it."

James smiled to himself as he walked away from the stall. Yes, everything was coming along quite nicely, he thought.