FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The doorbell rang loudly in the night, the unexpected chime throwing the man off guard. He was expecting no visitors this late, almost midnight by the clock on his lounge room wall.

He debated whether to pretend not to be in, letting the impolite visitors stew, but after a brief internal debate he merely shrugged his shoulders and headed for the doorway.

The man had enjoyed himself tonight. His city had enough particular quirks of its own to be distinctive, and he wouldn't change his hometown for anything. One of those was its way of celebrating Halloween. On the first night of the festivities, dia de las brujas, Malaga's Old Town was turned over to a parade of the creatures of the night. He had gone with friends, enjoying the costumes and the partying until late. He was still in a good mood; good enough to play along with whoever was annoying him anyway. He assumed it was one of his friends trying to get him to come out again, and he might well accept. He was in a mood for fun; and not in a mood to let ghost stories scare him.

There were stories...stories of his profession, told about this time of year. Ghost stories...he gave a snort. Meant to terrify apprentices, he had told them himself.

"Coming, coming, if you are taking me to the land of the dead you should at least wait until I'm dressed or something and...."

His voice trailed off though when he opened the door. There on his doorstep was a beast from a nightmare, a minotaur by the looks of the costume. Heavy bull's head, wide brown eyes shining with some inner fire, horns that shone in the moonlight, and a large ring through the creature's nose. He was taken aback for a moment, unsure how to deal with this visitor. His sense of humour won out though, and his sense of the ridiculous.

The costume was a masterpiece, so lifelike down to thick fur on the creature's arms, and he was sure it was no accident his visitor had come in a bull costume. That was another of Malaga's quirks...and one he was proud of, understandably. His city was renowned as a centre for bullfighting, with as many traditions and whispered stories surrounding the ancient art here as surrounded the festival of Halloween, El dia de los muertos. The man's world was bound up in both of them.

He stood back a step, bowing to his guest before clapping slowly.

"Bravo! Bravo senor. I did not see you in the parade tonight, otherwise I would have sought you out then. Is your costume a tribute to our sport and our traditions, no?"

The bull stared at him for a moment, until the man stopped clapping, his smile fixed but not so sure now. Then he spoke, his voice a deep rumbling that made the man's hair prickle behind him.

"It is in honour of our sport senor...or more in honour of you. You are the finest matador in all Malaga...and I wanted to meet you."

His uncertainty evaporating to be replaced with pride, the man smiled again, making a little half mocking bow for the visitor, but secretly he was pleased. It was only his due...he was the finest, of that he had no doubt.

"Well...you have met me now. But I cannot let you go without an autograph at least, in appreciation for your costume. Come inside, I will get one of my posters and a pen..."

He waved the visitor inside, busying himself in a chest of drawers by the wall before returning to his guest.

Something about the visitor gave him pause when he turned back. The costume was so good...so real. And even allowing for the costume, the owner must be enormous to fit inside it and carry all that weight. The man stood, looking over his visitor while the "bull' just stood watching him back, the expression on the mask suitably blank. He was looking for the joins, the evidence of how the suit was put together...

"You find what you are looking for senor?"

"No, I am trying to see how your costume is done but I cannot find the..."

The prickling spread over the man's body while he was replying, all the while staring into the eyes of the visitor. Starting with the back of his neck, the prickling covered his scalp and down his back, before crawling along his hands and making his fingers twitch. The feeling reached his chest at about the same time his brain managed to process the signals his unconscious had been seeing for some time now, and his eyes widened and a loud gasp finally stopped him cold.

The creature...for that was what he now realised it was....the creature had been talking to him, and its face moved just as it would if it were real; muzzle working in speech, eyes lighting up, chin and jowls and lips moving. This was no costume...yet how can that be?

"Yes Senor Suarez. You are standing before another bull, though not like the ones you kill every week in the ring. I will not be so easy to kill...and you have no assistants this time."

He tried to run, tried to cry out, but the minotaur was too fast for him. He managed to turn, and took two steps down his corridor before the heaving mass caught him, the terrifying ball of animal muscle moving with incredible speed and agility. One massive hand clamped around his arm, pulling him back and causing him to lose his footing. He had time for one startled cry before he fell face first on the tiled floor, and then then wind was knocked out of his lungs as his assailant landed on top of him, the crushing bulk too much to bear.

Dazed, he heard the creature whisper in his ear.

"Not much without everything rigged in your favour, are you senor?"

"Please! Who...what are you?"

"I am your judgement, matador. On behalf of your victims...you are not my first. Before that though, it is time for the corrida, no?"

One big hand clamped over his mouth, and his cries came out as muffled grunts. He felt the mass over his body move, a hand now under him, lifting him off the floor enough to worm between his body and the tiles. The hand roamed over his torso, under his shirt, rough fingertips scratching his skin and testing his flesh, digging, caressing....

"No!"

"Yes little cow...enjoy the dance...you always tell the reporters how much you enjoy the dance..."

Sick horror filled him, making him choke back vomit as the questing hand's intent became clearer. Fingers gripped his nipple, rubbing hard before squeezing painfully. He could feel something terrible, something foreboding behind him. A weight, dull heavy mass pressed between his butt cheeks, throbbing and growing ever larger...

"Please....please don't..."

"Shhh little cow...you do not have a choice, any more than the bull..."

He tried to scream for help as he felt the hand leave his mouth, but before he could let out the yell he felt another hand inside his jeans, roughly gripping his balls and squeezing with inhuman strength. He almost passed out from the pain, and his whole body went slack before the creature released his grip. The horror was not over though, for he felt something almost worse, strong fingers pulling at his jeans, effortlessly stripping the man of his protection. The great bulk returned, crushing, and this time he felt every detail of the massive organ poised to take him.

Heat beat down on his ass, burning heat from the minotaur's flesh, the furred monstrosity covering him and rubbing against his skin. A lance of flesh wormed between his cheeks, teasing, hotter even than the rasping skin of the beast, and impossibly large, a mammoth weapon to defeat any opponent. The matador cried out and begged, but his fight was over, and the victor was going to take his spoils.

"Yes, fight little cow, it makes no difference. It is much more fun without a cuadrilla isnt it? Straight to the tercio de muerte...poor little cow...how do you like my estoque?"

"No....no...please!"

The matador felt the heavy mass slide down, pressing hard against his cheeks. The bull brought his legs into play, forcing the man's knees apart and spreading them into a wide froglike stance, and he felt his crevice opened wide and vulnerable. The monster did not hesitate.

"Now you will feel it little one..."

A scream filled the room, echoing off tiles and walls and ceiling. The man felt the fleshy weapon pressing between his cheeks, spearing into his scrotum first, battering his bruised testicles. The bull used his body as a guide, sliding up, over the twitching perineum of the horrified matador, then finding his target, a clenched virgin pucker, no match for such a battering ram. Hips moved with inhuman power, thrusting forward, and the pointed end of a bull cock pierced the man's anus like a sword through a grapefruit. The man screamed again, ragged with pain and shock, and the bull thrust harder, showing no mercy, breaking open the man's tunnel and driving deep inside.

"Now to play a little...for the crowd..."

Sobs were driven from the man with each new thrust as the bull took his time, indulging in a leisurely fuck. Massive thighs rubbed against the back of the matador's legs as the bull took him completely, pushing ever deeper until a low rumbling grunt signalled that he had bottomed out deep in the man's bowels, his sheath rubbing between quivering ass cheeks. The inconsolable matador felt hot breath on his neck, and irresistible hands pulled his head around in spite of his desire to hide from sight of this monstrosity. Instead he found himself staring into those deep brown eyes, eyes full of anger and pleasure and a surprising tenderness.

"You are such a beautiful one little cow...I hope the other's do not claim you, I want you for my own."

The man had no opportunity to ponder this strange statement, as the bull bent his big muzzle forward and kissed hard. He tried to resist the tongue invading his mouth but found he was about as able to stop the kiss as he had been able to stop the violation of his anus. Warm tongue explored his mouth, sliding deep into his throat, the saliva strangely alluring, leaving a tingling throb in its wake. He realised he had stopped screaming and started moaning, more horrified by this change almost than the assault, while the bull rotated his hips slowly touching every part of his pained tunnel. Then a last short thrust drove the final inches inside him and he shook uncontrollably as something deep inside him exploded in fiery pleasure.

"Noooooo!"

"Stop resisting little one...the fight is almost over. It is time for the estocada."

"Noooooo!"

"Shhhh...you are mine little one...my little cow."

Long thrusts now, almost all the way out, the tip dripping burning droplets of precum against the stretched and ravished skin of the man's anus, then almost all the way in, the fat tip drawing a line of pleasure along the man's virgin prostate. His cries of no became cries of yes, and moans of yes, then hissing sighs as the long rut continued, each new pleasuring driving him closer to an ending he dreaded and desired equally. The bull felt it too, as each new clench of the matador's anus gripped his bullcock in a deathgrip of need. Then the quivering started and didn't stop, fast urgent pulses against his flesh.

"It is time....ohhhh my cow..."

"Aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Then one last thrust, deeper and harder than anything before, as the bull used all his considerable strength to impale the matador on his cock. A heavy bull scrotum slapped against the matador's perineum and the back of his sack, crushing painfully, but the worst was the lancing pain brought about by a massive bullcock rending his ass wide and deep, uncaring how much it hurt. And yet his body reacted with ecstatic release even as the pain grew beyond reason, a last hard battering of his prostate triggering the man into wild orgasm, spraying the floor and his own body even as the bull's wild bellow told of another orgasm, thick seed flooding his violated ass with a burning pulsing torrent.

The bull knew it was time to strike, but he hesitated a moment, feeling the piteous struggles of the man under him. As his body writhed in pleasured release though he felt the strength of the rut flood his body, warm like fire, and all hesitation ceased. A bellowing muzzle bent again, warm breath on the man's neck, barely felt in the mixture of agony and ecstasy engulfing his body and his soul. He felt the next sensation though as brutal sharp pointed teeth closed on his neck and bit deep, suckling his skin and drinking as blood coursed from a terrible wound. He fell unconscious with the sound of his own screams reverberating in his mind.

*****

The man woke slowly, his body aching all over. It was morning, and he was lying on the floor of his apartment, pants around his ankles, shirt ripped and torn from his body. Sharp pain came from his neck, and a dull ache filled his ass. He managed to get slowly to his feet, and he walked unsteadily to the bathroom. What he saw in the mirror terrified him.

His body was covered in bruises and scratches, and a big red mark covered the left side of his neck. There was dried cum on his chest and belly, and as he turned to examine his aching ass, he could clearly see that his pucker was stretched wide and red raw, a trickle of blood dripping onto his taint. Memory lurked in the back of his mind but would not come, and he tumbled into the shower to wash away the pains and the evidence of...of it, whatever it was. The nameless terror was a shadow for now, but he sensed in some vague way it was not done with him.

He felt a little better after the shower, and as he dried himself off he noticed that whatever the cause of the marks, they couldn't be that serious. The red mark on his neck was fading rapidly, and the scratches and bruises were almost gone. He headed for his bedroom, laying of the bed to rest for a moment and try to piece together what had happened. He remembered the night, out with his friends and some of the bullfighting apprentices, watching the parade. The night air had been almost warm, and everyone was smiling enjoying the evening. He had returned to his apartment...and then nothing, nothing but unquiet memories, and the smell of bulls...he snorted, trying to clear his mind. The smell of bull was a familiar one for any matador, and a happy one too. So why was his mind filled with that scent...?

A sudden knocking sound startled the man, and he realised he had fallen asleep on his bed. The clock told him it was early afternoon, just past the siesta. He felt suddenly alive, as if a great tiredness had been removed and he stood and stretched, oddly invigorated.

"Who is it?"

"Miguel! I tried to ring you but your phone is off. I wanted to see if you would like to come out for coffee?"

The man smiled, conjuring up an image to match the name. Miguel...one of his apprentices. Barely ready really, only 18...not much more than a boy, but a beautiful one. Then he hesitated for a moment...

Beautiful? Where did that come from...

"Just a minute, I need to get dressed...wait there."

"Ok!"

The man headed for his walk in robe, reaching for jeans and a t-shirt. He went to put on the t-shirt first, a plain white one, but for some reason it wouldn't fit. Try as he might, it wouldn't go over his shoulders properly.

Tossing the top to one side with a curse, he turned to the mirror on the wall. What he saw made him draw in a sharp breath. His body had changed.

He ran his hands over the form before him as if trying to confirm the evidence of his eyes, because they could not possibly be correct. His hips had broadened, along with his shoulders, and his thighs and arms were massive where they had once been lean. Absently, he posed and flexed, eyes popping at the sight of big muscles bulging and bunching as he moved. His previously clean chest had a thick pelt of curly dark hairs, and a rich dark treasure trail leading to his groin where a thick patch of pubes surmounted a set of genitalia that made him cry out for the first time since he had woken.

His cock was swollen, six inches long and achingly thick, but he realised with a start that it was not hard, the foreskin still in place protecting his sensitive head. The scrotum had swollen too, now containing a pair of hens egg sized testicles in a low hanging bag. Without meaning too he found himself gripping his cock, pulling back the foreskin slowly as he let out a deep long groan, his cock swelling now and rapidly approaching ten thick inches of flesh. He had been relatively normal before, though his many girlfriends had never had cause to complain as he knew how to use his cock to bring them all the pleasures they could ask for...now he was anything but normal though. Another stroke made his urethra open like a tiny mouth, a long rivulet of clear pre dripping to the floor while he groaned again.

"Hello? Is anything wrong?"

"N...no...just a minute..."

He threw a towel around his waist, uncertain what clothes would fit his changed body, and walked to the door. A part of his mind screamed a warning, begging him not to let the boy in. That part was overwhelmed though by another voice...one with different needs...

When he opened the door, he took in the sight of the apprentice, the boy in his jeans and shirt looking as fresh and eager as he remembered. Miguel had such beautiful eyes, brown almost like a bull...and caramel coloured skin kissed by the sun. The boy was startled at the sight before him, his eyes widening like saucers as he took in the unexpected form of his friend clad only in a towel; and looking like he had never seen him before. The youngster was gay, a secret he had kept well from his family and friends, but here was a sight that would make it hard for him to keep the secret much longer.

Watching the boy look over his body, the man grinned a feral grin, sensing the boy's arousal like a colour visible to all, obvious marker of his desires. The matador felt his own arousal rising to match, the bulge under the towel growing to obscene size. He reached out a hand to the boy, who responded as if in a trance, stumbling as the man pulled him inside and closed the door.

"I...I tried to see you yesterday..."

"But I saw you only yesterday?"

"No, I saw you at the parade but that was two days ago."

"Two...days...ago...?"

"Yes, on dia de las brujas, we were at the parade. You disappeared yesterday, no one knew where you where..."

"Yesterday..."

"Why do you keep repeating everything I say? Why are you...why are you in a towel..."

The man shook his head as if to clear it. Two days ago...he had been unconscious not one night, but a day and two nights...it was now Halloween proper, Dia de los Muertos.The night of his own personal pilgrimage. Still, time enough for some fun before hand...

"Sorry, you woke me up from a siesta, and I was tired. I was about to head for a shower, hence the towel...does it bother you?"

"The towel? N...no...I mean...I..."

The boy fell silent as his teacher gave a wild smile, eyes blazing as if seeing right through him. He caught a knowing grin, and the matador seemed to sniff the air, drinking in the boy's scent. He winked and nodded as Miguel turned crimson.

"Like what you see Miguel?"

"N...no! Why...how..."

"Shhh...no talking boy..."

Miguel stood like a statue, his body shaking, as the matador circled him, almost like he was in the ring circling a wounded bull. The matador made one slow circuit, his eyes taking in every inch of the youngster, as Miguel felt the burning on his skin reach his cock, the unruly organ pointing out hard and ready against his jeans.

As the matador completed his circuit he saw the tell tale sign and snorted in amusement, making the apprentice drop his head. Miguel didn't see the towel being removed as a result; he heard it though, the gentle swish of cloth like a cape at play. He turned with terrified eyes to see his friend, gaze drawn to the sight of a magnificently erect cock already dripping with excitement. He licked his lips absently before letting out a soft whimper.

"You want it don't you boy."

"How did you know? Why didn't you tell me you were gay too?"

Because I am not...and yet...the hunger is so strong little calf...

"Do you want it!"

The matador stepped forward suddenly, his big body close and hot behind the boy. He reached for one hand, pulling it behind the apprentice's back as he wrapped the other around his chest. The boy's hand closed on a thick cock, pulsing with life.

"Oh Dio yes!"

Miguel slowly jacked the massive cock in his hand, the feel like nothing he had ever experienced. His few furtive sexual encounters had been hasty and guilt ridden experiences, and none of his partners had looked like this, or felt like this either...the thick organ throbbed in his hand, and one strong hand now reached for his own smaller cock, trapped inside his jeans.

"How does it feel little calf."

"Why do you call me that?"

"I am your bull little calf...beg for me to mount you."

"Ohhhhhh..."

A hand felt under his shirt, teasing nipples and raking across skin. The boy arched his back against the bigger man, his body on fire. The other hand reached inside his jeans, jacking his long thin teenage cock, working it like his lover knew every place to touch and stroke for maximum effect, gripping just under the head and sliding a palm over the thick ridge of corona and pleasuring the head. He began to shake, unable to take the stimulation.

"Beg..."

The voice was deep, rumbling, soft...and yet he could not disobey.

"Please"

"Beg..."

"Oh Dio please I need it..."

His clothes flew across the room, shirt torn from a torso glistening with sweat, jeans pulled down hard. A hand in his back pushed him forwards, and he shuffled on the edge of falling, but the strength of the man held him upright and propelled him into the lounge, crossing the tiles until he felt himself thrown against the couch and he fell, kneeling on the seat, his body propped against the back. He rested his hands on the headrest and prepared to stand.

"Do not move calf..."

A shudder went through the boy's body, and he rested his head on the seat back and waited his fate. His cock knew what it felt though; it rested against the coarse fabric, hard and leaking, every movement overstimulating the head and making him bite his lip to prevent a scream of lust.

Warm air wafted over his neck, then down his back, and he felt a tongue on his spine. The shudders returned harder as it continued, down to the hollow above his ass, then it nuzzled into the cleft at the top of his ass.

"AGHHHHH!"

His shock was complete when he felt the questing tongue slide down his crevice to the damp tight pucker, the tip poking and prodding against his little boyhole until it forced a path inside and he felt his first deep ass eating. He tried to clench his hold but received an angry slap on the ass that made him yelp, and he managed to relax enough to satisfy his friend. The warm flexible tongue wormed deeper inside and he melted against the couch, all the while giving voice to sensual gasps and sighs of pleasure.

The matador tasted boyfunk and boymusk, the scent and taste making him drunk with lust. He knew he should not be liking this so much, and yet he knew he wanted it, needed it even. As his nostrils filled, he felt the rutting need grow, and it built until he could not wait. He needed to mount his cow. He could tell his cow needed it too.

Miguel was lost in a haze of sexual bliss, and it took him a moment to realise the magical ass eating had stopped. Then he felt something else and a shudder of fear replaced the shudders of lust. A thick bulbous cockhead, way bigger than any he had ever taken, resting against his pucker. The couch groaned as the matador knelt on the cushions behind him, the muscled bulk of his torso now pressed down on the boy's back, knees forcing his steadily wider until he was perched with legs spread wide, ass opened and his head leaning over the back of the couch.

"Please be gentle..."

"Always little calf...but not too gentle."

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh"

The boy gave a long drawn out cry, like a sigh in slow motion, as the oversized cock head gradually forced its way inside his inexperienced anus. The muscle gave way reluctantly, and his walls fought the invader in spite of his attempts to relax, the initial penetration pained and yet strangely pleasurable too. He was being taken by a big male, but taken gently, the matador resting with just the head and top of the shaft inside. A kiss on his neck, then on his ear, then on his cheek brought him back from the edge, and he relaxed against his lover.

"That's it little calf...relax, let me make it good."

The man pulled back, feeling the boy's opening start to spread again as his cock head began to withdraw. He rocked a little, stretching the opening, then slid back in again a little deeper than before, drawing new sighs and groans from the youngster. He took his time, feeling the responses in Miguel's body, reading the signs and picking his moments to push I deep, and when to wait and give the boy time.

Eventually he felt the final inch slide in, hilting inside Miguel, and his low hanging scrotum rested against the boy's taint.

Then one last thrust, deeper and harder than anything before, as the bull used all his considerable strength to impale the matador on his cock. A heavy bull scrotum slapped against the matador's perineum and the back of his sack, crushing painfully, but the worst was the lancing pain brought about by a massive bullcock rending his ass wide and deep, uncaring how much it hurt

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH STOP OH GOD PLEASE!"

The matador realised with a sudden shock that he had been somewhere else for a fraction of a second...with a heavy body behind him, inside him, fucking...and he had done the same to the boy, pulling out and ramming in hard, biting down on his neck. He felt the shaking body under him, and the cries, and he soothed his lover with a kiss and a soft nuzzle against his ear. His hips rocked gently in and out only an inch, caressing the quivering tunnel against his cockhead.

"W...why did you make it hurt...?"

"Shhh...sometimes you need it harder little calf...I will be more careful though, just relax."

He began a long steady fuck at first, taking his time while the boy under him relaxed again. Miguel turned his head now to look back at his friend, watching from behind liquid brown eyes half lidded with lust. The way the man's body worked as he fucked mesmerised him, watching shoulders and chest muscles flexing, the slow drip of sweat from a patch of hair between his pectorals down his belly...most of all the obscene sight of a thick cock burying in his ass, the lolling sway of big testicles underneath. Then the man leaned over him, covering him with his body and nibbling his neck.

"Time for that little bit harder calf..."

"Ohhhh yes"

It was time; time for rut, time for mating. The bull knew it.

His hips moved with a long powerful rolling motion, fucking, rutting deep. He felt the boy's body taking the pressure, pushed hard against the couch with each new thrust but not too painfully, his head still turned to watch. The man built speed and power until he was fucking wild, mating his cow well, balls churning with needed release. It was here, he could feel it, the way the tight ass under him fluttered and twitched and the way the boy was grunting. Then he smelt it, the scent of boy seed as his lover gasped and spattered the couch with his climax.

Hand gripped the boy's shoulders, tight, giving him the leverage he needed. He pulled back, just his cocktip inside, and threw back his head. Letting out a bellow that sounded only part human, he rammed his length to the hilt inside Miguel and came, balls emptying with powerful spurts of cum as he fucked his calf without mercy, breeding his ass like a stud bull should, ignoring the boy's plaintive cries and moans as his poor little prostate was battered hard again and again and he felt a second orgasm building almost immediately after the first.

When he recovered, resting on the boy's back, he felt the apprentice shaking, his skin covered in a glistening sheen of sweat. He kissed Miguel on the nape of his neck, then bit gently, wondering why he felt a sudden desire to bite down hard...

blood, sweet and fresh....

"How was that Miguel?"

"Oh Dio...I never..."

"Good. You will want more then. I know I need more."

The boy's expression changed then, no longer the languid half lidded glance of orgasm. It had the tinge of fear, as well as lust. This would be an afternoon to remember, that was for sure.

Hours later, the matador lay on his bed, absently fondling his cock. It was still hard, it's new mass so erotic for him. He wanted to touch, and he wanted to bury it in ass. He heard the door close, as the poor apprentice made his eventual exit. The boy was looking exhausted by the end, when his ass took it's third big load from the man and the insistent pounding on his prostate drove a fifth screaming orgasm from the lad. He had pleaded for rest and the matador cuddled him, whispering in his ear instead while playing with his cock. Eventually he allowed him to shower and leave, the backward glances full of meaning. Miguel was hooked, on something he knew was bad for him.

The matador lay back and hefted his balls, almost seeming bigger than they did even when he woke. They felt hot, like they burned with some internal fire, and he itched for more sex. Even three hard cums had not taken the edge off.

What has happened to me? Guys...wild sex...bull...what has happened?

For some reason the window drew him inexorably, and he stood, pulling the blinds. The moon shone down bright and silver, a full moon for Dia de los Muertos.

Dia de los Muertos...the cemetery.

He realised it was time for his annual pilgrimage, and for some reason he felt himself fearing and craving it. For years now he had gone each November 2nd to the cemetery of Malaga, colourful heart of the city, to pay his respects. He had grown up watching and admiring the greatest matador of his youth, Nunes, incomparable artist in the bullring. As a teenager he had marvelled at the man's skill and bravery, and it was while watching him one day that the matador had decided he wanted to follow in those incomparable footsteps. One day, he would be that good. He had idolised the man, even pestering him until the shrugging matador had passed on some of his skills, late at night over a drink. The boy drunk in his words, more nourishing than the beer. He also drunk in his approval.

The magnificent Nunes had sadly burnt bright but not long though, retiring suddenly without even telling the young apprentice Suarez why, and then dying in a car accident one November 2nd, Dia de los Muertos, while the rest of the city celebrated. The wise heads in the fraternity nodded, and whispered their ghost stories. The spirit of the bulls had claimed him, another offering to appease the blood of their victims. He had smiled and nodded with them, content to repeat the stories to frighten new apprentices in their turn; but every November 2nd he visited the grave, and made an offering of flowers for the man who inspired him...and for the spirit of the bulls.

He did not want to do it this time, his mind scattered by the bizarre events of the last two days, but somehow he knew he could not. He managed to find a pair of baggy training shorts, and a sloppy rugby shirt that fit even his newly bulky body, though shoes proved too much of a challenge. With a shrug, he walked into the night, shutting his door as he walked towards the hill. The moon shone down, and he felt it ripple over his body, its touch warm like the sun, and he felt something stirring inside him. The feeling built and built the closer he got to the cemetery.

Before he knew it he was standing before the grave, a big wide marble platform, with a simple headstone. He did not have flowers this time, but somehow he knew it did not matter.

As he stood, he sensed others around, a presence in the darkness. Figures moved against the graves, large figures, dark and menacing. He wanted to run, wanted to hide, but he could not. Instead he just stood, the warm embrace of the moon invading his body with its sensual caress.

"Welcome little cow...I am glad you came."

Six figures surrounded him, six minotaurs. Each was unique, different colouring, different horns and different bodies yet all similar. All were massive, muscled, male. All looked at him keenly but did not approach closely yet. They were waiting.

"Who are you?"

"We are your new herd brother bull."

"That's crazy!"

"No it isn't brother bull...reach inside and you will know it."

He closed his eyes, falling to his knees as suddenly the events of the first night came back. The minotaur...the rape...the bite...

"No!"

"Yes little cow...you are one of us now. A werebull."

"It can't be...they are just fairy stories!"

"Feel your body little one...is that a fairy story?"

He touched himself with an air of desperation, even as the moon's caress completed the cycle. He felt his body burning through his fingers, painfully like fire, and he threw back his head and bellowed, panting for breath. Then he watched as his body seemed to expand even further, bulging with muscle and growing bones, his shoulders pushing even broader, hips bulging wide. He heard his clothes ripping and tearing as they gave up the fight to contain his new massive physique, revealing muscles glistening in the moonlight. Not for long though.

With a gasp he realised a dark stain was moving across his body, leaving his skin black in its wake. Then he realised with even more astonishment that the stain was a covering of thick black fur. He watched appalled as the fur coating spread across his chest, leaving a thicker coarse patch at his chest and in a line down his belly. Then it slithered down his arms. When it reached his wrists, he cried out as he felt his hands suddenly grow and form into hoof tipped fingers, while a pain in his legs told him there were changes there too. Looking down he saw hooves, cloven and broad, where his feet had been, and his legs now bulged like tree trunks under a coat of thick fur.

As he fell forward onto his hands and knees the transformation completed. Agonising pain in his head signalled the formation of a bull's head, muzzle elongating and nose spreading into a wide snout. His ears formed into pointed bull ears, then he felt a pressure in his skull. Reaching up to touch, he could feel sharp horns suddenly poke from the side of his head, growing and lengthening before bending into a perfect pair of bull horns. He tried to cry out, but instead gave a long mooo, and felt the final touch; a soft tailtuft slapping against his thigh as he wafted his new appendage.

"You look good brother bull. Welcome."

"Why...why..."

"For centuries it has been this way little one. A matador long ago proved too boastful and too arrogant. So the spirits taught him a lesson. He was joined by the spirit of the bulls, one of those he had killed, and while still a man by day, he would forever be like us by night. The price for allowing the bullfights to go on was a sacrifice of men to the spirits, and every few years another is taken and joined with the spirit of a fallen bull to make a new werebull like you. You can feel it now little one; the bull inside you, merging with your human half. You can feel the bull inside always, but at night you will not be able to resist. Even by day though your body is changed; closer to your night time form."

"Why me?"

The new minotaur recognised his assailant now, the big bull right before him. He stared into those eyes, the same ones he had looked into two nights ago, and found the same fire. He shivered at that fire, as it burned across his body. He felt it in his sheath...yes, he had a sheath. He looked down horrified to see his cock poking from wide sheathlips, a pulsing pink length of bull flesh above a grotesquely large scrotum.

"Because you wanted it little one. I felt it inside you...and you wanted to be with me."

"You?"

"Yes...what grave are we beside little one."

"Nunes..."

"Yes....but no matador lies inside."

The new werebull stared for a moment, uncomprehending, as he looked into those eyes. Those eyes...the same eyes he had watched in the ring, as his hero brought down bull after bull with ease.

"You!"

"Yes little one, when the time comes, we need to disappear before we take up this new life as part of the herd. An accident is arranged...a convenient one. "

He fell back onto the grave, sitting on the marble as he shook with the intense emotions of his predicament. The bulls waited, giving him time. There were still choices, and still decisions to be made. These things cannot be rushed; they had seen it all before.

"Now you need to decide little one. Do you stay part of our herd, or leave and form your own. We can teach you how to control your new skills, and how to change without pain when the night comes. We are a brotherhood across the country though, and you can leave if you like. One rule applies though; if you stay, you must take a mate."

He raised his head at that, staring at the bull. His eyes blazed, and he licked his lips. Then he stood, sniffing the air. He could smell it now, almost like it was screaming at him. The scent of bull musk, his bull. His blood boiled, and his new bull cock reached full erection, dripping a thin line of precum into the dirt. The bull smiled at him, the same smile he remembered, and he mooed in lust.

"I see the decision is made little cow...ohhh you will enjoy this life so much, I promise."

The bulls converged, and suddenly he was surrounded by bull muscle, each of his new herdmates touching, caressing, their voices telling him how good he looked, and how much they admired him, but he only had eyes for one. His mate; and he just stood.

"Prepare him."

Hands gripped his body and pulled him back. He felt himself laid on the grave, five bulls now arranged around his body. One suckled on his left nipple, lapping at the swollen tip before wrapping his lips round the large fleshy nub to suckle and making him arch his back in bliss. One drove his snout under an armpit, breathing in deep bull musk and lapping at the pit.

One took each leg, licking all over his new body, sending waves of pleasure though him as they licked. One was lapping at his thigh while the other concentrated on his ankles and the sensitive skin above his new hooves. He was surrounded by bull musk, and engulfed in touch and scent. Then a new pleasure hit him, as the fifth bull knelt at his side and sucked his cock deep into a warm wet muzzle, drawing heated moos and bellows from the new werebull. One hand rested affectionately on his scrotum, hefting his new bull balls and squeezing gently.

Finally he looked up to see his mate, as the big bull stepped forward and knelt between his legs. They had arranged him perfectly, ass perched on the edge of the grave. His twitching pucker was at the perfect height, clenching and eager.

"Ready for this again little one?"

"Please!"

The minotaur bent forward, sniffing at his new mate's sac to drink in his musk, revelling in the scent. He caught another smell though, one he wasn't expecting. He reached in and squeezed painfully on a ball, making his mate bellow and writhe.

"I smell another on you...a youngster. One of the apprentices...Miguel isn't it?"

"Y...yes!"

"When did you have him."

"Today. He came to my flat..."

"Did you bite him? Did you try to turn him?"

"I don't know how...no I didn't...I'm positive..."

The bull let go of his mate's scrotum, stroking gently as the smaller bull panted.

"Good. We have much to teach you brother bull. Time enough for turning later...you will need to be careful in these first days, you are caught between a little at first andand might find some things...unpredictable. Maybe one day even that boy could be one of us. In the meantime he is yours during the daylight hours if you wish...but at night, you belong to me. Understand?"

The matador, no longer a matador, looked into his mate's eyes, sensing the power, and the menace to go with the care. He nodded, as the five bulls around him returned to their pleasuring tasks, fingers and lips and tongues stimulating nipples and balls and cock and skin finding every sensitive spot on the bull. He dissolved in pleasure amongst his brother bulls, while his mate knelt waiting, running fingers down his thighs to cup his balls, then bringing his thick bull cock against a tight pucker.

"Welcome my love...to eternity"

His hips slammed forward as he plunged to the hilt inside his mate, thick pink cylinder of flesh driving inside to claim his new lover. This time forever...and as they fucked hard, bodies slapping against each other, the night air filled with the sounds of pleasured bellows as the herd covered each other with seed, celebrating another Dia de los Muertos, in tribute to their many brothers who died in the ring. Tonight was theirs though, and another of their enemies became one of them.

As he lay back feeling his tunnel pounded with loving heat by his mate, the new minotaur realised he was reliving his day with Miguel, the touch of the boy, the feel of his body. His cock gave an extra spurt and he moaned loud in remembered pleasure.

"Hmmm he is a sweet one isn't he."

He opened his eyes in shock, realising the bull had spoken not out loud but in his head.

"What..."

"More lessons little one...but time for that later."

"Ugh...ugh...ugh...ughh..."

The hard mating continued into the night, and it was one well fucked bull who woke to find himself in human form the next morning, lying on his bed still stinking of cum and sweat. He almost thought it could be a dream, until he reached for the bedside table and his fingers closed on something metallic. Pulling it into view, he saw it was a ring...gold, intricate, and perfect for a bull's nose. His hands roamed over his new body, and he felt something new at his chest. Looking down, he realised he had gold nipple rings, the match to his nose ring. His mate wanted him marked even during the day.

A knock sounded on the door, and he walked gingerly out of the bedroom.

"Yes?"

"Um...it's Miguel...I"

He is yours during the daylight hours if you wish...but at night, you belong to me. Understand?

The man, now werebull, gave a broad grin, remembering the feel of the boy's ass around his cock.

Well, it's daylight. Time for some more fun...and one day, maybe I can share him in the night too...

With a vision inside his head of the boy laid back on the grave surrounded by bulls, the werebull grinned wider. He didn't notice his incisors lengthening, poking out below his lip. The warnings about caution from his mate were drowned out by his lust, and he was still in the first flush of his new bullhood, with balls on fire and body itching for fucking. He was not yet skilled in control; of his cock, or his body, or his were instincts. That was for another day...

Always providing his mate had a forgiving nature.