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"Again!" the Swordmaster said, "Arch your elbow a tiny bit more, extend your reach. Yes, like so. Ready? Good."

Carl tried the motion for the tenth time, and failed again. He heard the heavy clash of the blunted swords from the other side of the court field, seeing his brothers going at each other with fervor, sweat dripping from their bodies, like never tiring beasts. He hated it, not being as good as them. Not living up to his family name. Carl's father was rewarded for being the first to hit the Foul ones in the last battle, 20 years ago, killing more than any other. Knighted. Didn't take long until the Foul and the Humans started barter with one another - his father, again, taking the initiative. Lorded. Carl puffed as he took the stance.

The tall, heavy-muscled sword-master shook his head. "What can we make of you? Y'are too weak, your belly is too big, and all y'are doing is droolin' over your younger brothers." He put down the sword he had been using to block, and removed the thin armor. "Younger, for God's sake!"

"They are only a year or so younger, it really isn't much!" Carl tried to defend his honor, as he started to fume. He knew, though, that he needed to stay calm. The Swormaster was the Swordmaster for a reason and a fight with him was trouble for Carl.

"Looka' them, Carl, looka' what they do." He hadn't moved his eyes from them. Sven dodged to the right and spun around, and would have hit Eric square in the chest, had Eric not jumped backwards. "They're _leagues_ahead of you, you sure you ain't Half-Foul?"

"Don't you _dare_say that again, lest my father will hear. He will hang you, and I will enjoy seeing you swing back and forth in the wind with your snapped neck. God knows I will. Let us continue training, I will prove you wrong!"

"No. You are not worth the money, a shame upon my abilities as a sword-master and a disgrace upon your family. Tomorrow we will try again. That will be the last time, if you fail." He turned around and left to talk with the Swordmaster overseeing the two brothers fighting.

"I was just getting the hang of it!" Carl yelled after him, attracting looks. Blushing when noticing, he decided to do something about. To get external help.

After resting his muscles, he ran out of the court field - determined to find a way to become good with the sword, to become a beast like his brothers. No longer would he disgrace his family, Carl vowed. He would find a way, would, would, would. Carl ran out of the castle's gates, and into a woman, who fell to ground, giving off a sharp shriek. He stopped dead in his tracks, and turned around, seeing his Promised laying down, her white linen muddied, being helped up by her handmaids and staring at him with murder in her eyes.

He tried to explain himself, but was left without any words, as his Promised and her maids ran off. Carl would have stopped them, beat her into submission and make her feel sorry for being in his way - but he couldn't. Not yet. When they married, he would be able to discipline her the way a woman should be. She was beautiful, his length, plump hips that promised him babies - and daughter of a Lord! Carl watched them walk away, longing for her. If only the church could stop telling him what was right and wasn't.

He turned around, and started running to the market. It was a couple of miles from the mansion, but Carl paid that no heed; if the lessons with the Swordmaster had given him one thing, it was endurance. And good looks. The beloved object of all's attention, he made a great heir to his father - or at least that is what he thought.

Stopping his run by the market entrance, he passed one of the Foul, begging for coin. Mansloth. The sloth's brown, common, clothes were dirty and over worn - the only clean thing on his body being a red band around his wrist. An awful lot of the Foul wore red bands, Carl didn't know why. The sloth stunk in the most nose-crinkling fashion. Carl spat on the Foul before moving on and told it to fuck off back whence it came. He hated how they littered the street, doing nothing, but didn't mind 'em when they were working proper. Like the womancat and mandog in the stall at the back.

People passed them by, noone stopping to purchase their goods. Carl moved towards them, feeling oddly drawn to it. As if called upon - that it was his purpose to be there with them. Here he would find exactly what he deserves. Glory and honor, serving the king.

Vials filled with liquids in a myriad of different colors were placed on the wall in the back of the stall. Pots brewing, and worthless trinkets at the front. A man crashed into him as he was staring at the stall, but the man was gone before Carl could confront him. He was not used to being out and about in the city, much preferring staying in the castle to walking around in the crowded streets.

The cat running the stall was staring right at him. It purred, "Y've bin eyein' us a bit" her accent was thick, it was telling that she had grown up in the Foul lands. "Wha' arr' you lookin' forr?" She put a finger to her... chin? Muzzle? "Hm. Y'lookin' troubl'd. - and close yer mouth, ye're lookin' the fool - perhaps a problem with a girl? No-no, that ain't it. Family issues. Ye're sad beca-"

"Quit your yappin', Foul one." She squinted her eyes at that. "All I need is to become good with the sword."

Her face took on a passive look. "Ah, we can do, we can do, I'm sure." The cat purred. "Can ye be morr... what's yerr word? ah, descriptive?"

"I want to become a beast, like my brothers, eager to grip any sword I lay my eyes on. Something that will help me if I ever come into contact with you Foul ones."

"Kevh?" The mandog looked up. "Can ye chik the bot'm container? Pink vials, this big. Two." She stretched her thumb and the index finger. He grunted and said something in their Foul tongue, to which the cat just laughed.

"This, this'll make ye eager to hold any sword!" She hold up the vials. "It'll be 2 brass, one for each."

Carl grabbed for his purse, but could not find it. "My purse! It- it's gone! Must have been that fucking sloth, took it while I wasn't looking. I-I really need this, for tomorrow. Any chance that I can pay... back? Later?"

The cat shook her head. "Go with Kevh, back." She pointed at a spot behind the stall. "Talk with him, he'll tell you how to pay."

The dog gestured to him to follow, and so Carl did. A head taller than Carl, Carl could not help but shiver at the thought of being alone with this mandog. His eyes widened when he saw the ornamental style behind the stall, surprised to see it there. A table to write on, a paper and quill. Books around him, in several different tongues he could not speak. "Why do you have this here?"

The mandog sighed, revealing a powerful voice, "Why should we not? No one will ever go close to our stall, afraid of us and our 'witchcraft', this as good a place as any." Carl found himself agreeing, it is as good a place as any. Whatever the dog wanted.

"I mean, what is it for?"

"The paper and quill is for ensuring that debts are paid. You will write on it, that you will find me tomorrow, and pay me what you owe." His eyes drilled into Carl's. Carl stared at him in disbelief, he had always known the Foul to be as dumb as the animals they looked like, but this took the prize.

"And, I have another proposal. How about I help teach you, tomorrow, how to work a sword? I have experience, and it would be an honor. This, of course, written on the paper. How about it?"

"It is just a paper, it can't force me to do anything. I would be a fool not to accept this."

The mandog smiled, and Carl wavered a tiny bit. "Go ahead."

Carl stepped up to the paper, and wrote: Tomorrow, I shall come back and pay what I owe for two vials of pink liquid, that have the purpose to make me good with swords. I will also take a class from- "What's your name?" Kevh, the Foul one, to honor him. "Is this good enough?"

Kevh growled a bit as he read it. "It's fine." He grabbed a bundle of clothes and handed it to Carl. "Take these, your clothes won't fit you proper tomorrow morning. Now, go get the vials. We will see each other tomorrow. Uphill Inn."

Carl grunted and stepped out. "We got it sorted, Catwitch, hand me the vials."

"Gladly." She handed him the vials. "Ye need to do right. Drink one now." Carl drank it, finding the taste funny. "And the other ye go to sleep, and tomorrow ye'll be eager to please any sword. Now begone."

He muttered to himself as he walked home. "Any sword? What does that even mean? Will I steal my swordmaster's, to take care of it too? My brothers? Fuck that Foul cat and her broken speech. She must have meant that I will become good with the sword, which is all I wanted. Fuck her."

A couple of hours later, he sat around the dinner table with his family. Their butler placed a fine beef on his platter and poured a finer wine in his glass, cooked by the greatest chef the city had to offer. He licked his lips as he inhaled, the sweet aroma hitting his nose. A large, meaty meal was in order after a trying day.

His Mother cleared her throat. "Give him a salad instead," she ordered, "Carl is gaining girth around his corset." She said as if it was simply a matter-of-fact.

Carl gasped, "Mother!" he looked at his brothers for support, "Ask my brothers, I am not-"

"Well, brother, you did leave sword practice early..." Eric said, trailing off and staring down at his food, poking it with a fork.

"He did what?!" Anger rose from Father's voice, and shock, and disappointment.

Carl stuttered, his voice low "I-I had to, the Swordmaster di-didn't want to practice longer, bu-but we'll do it tomorrow, then I'll practice, I'll practice good!"

"What's wrong with your tongue, boy? Speak up!" His father sighed, "And to think that you are my heir."

He looked down, solemnly, at the table. His brothers bickering between each other. "I'll practice. I'll improve. Trust me, Father, tomorrow you will see me a new man!" Carl's voice asserted itself at the end. He was feeling the liquid working his body, feeling it changing him as the minutes passed by. Tomorrow he would be able to handle a sword, and if he wouldn't be, he would kill the Foul ones selling him the brew. On God's honor, he would.

"Heard you pushed your Promised to the mud, brother - Is she not man enough for you?" The twins snickered at their wit, taunting their older brother for his insecurities.

"Will you even be able to get it up?" Eric looked downwards, and laughed.

"Eric! Would you like to finish your meal early?" their Mother caught Eric's eyes, until he stopped laughing and dropped his eyes in shame.

"Mother is right, Eric. We can't be unfair to him. He won't be able to lift her over the door step!" Sven motioned to his arm, where he was displaying a limp muscle, poking it and watching it jiggle.

"Enough! You will see tomorrow, brothers. I'll make it seem like it is your first day holding a sword!" Carl left without touching his salad, and stood up, not waiting for his parents' permisson. At times, he hated his brothers. How they did everything better than him, how they teased him. To think, that they even dare to say that he is not a man, when he is one year older than them! Carl knew it was always said in jest, but everything one says, has a seed of truth in it. At least for the one who says it. Carl went to his room to practice his movement.

It was getting dark outside, and Carl was getting tired. He had been at it for hours, move after move, honing and perfecting the most basic movement. The potion must have been working, because when he watched himself in the mirror, he noticed that he was getting hairy. His beard was finally growing in, and chest hair had started to spurt out in spades. It was unnatural, the way that it did so, but Carl assumed that it's a side effect. If he was to become a master with the sword, he must also look the part. Right? His belly fat had started to lighten from his body, and he was looking more toned than he had done in years. The underlying muscle showing through finely.

Carl held the vial between his fingers, weighing it. Licking his lips. He removed the cork holding the liquid in, and drank it all in one gulp. He jumped into bed, longing for tomorrow to be here already.

The sun showered him as he stretched his body, eyes still closed, letting the soft-cushioned bed and linen hug him in a tight embrace. Carl stretched his arms up, feeling like a new man. He opened his eyes, the world first a blur and then clearer and clearer until something hit him. He had a snout.

Shooting out of the bed, he hurried to the full-bodied mirror, meeting there a mandog not unlike the one in the market. Its sword protruded proudly from its sheath, and its tail was wagging happily at the sight, hitting its thigh. Carl was confused, what's this Foul one doing here? The mandog's frame was that of someone who had barely had to lift anything in its life, yet had an outstanding metabolism. All the muscle Carl had seen the previous night was as if it had never been there. He started jumping up and down, flailed his arms, grabbed his dick and held fast - the mandog mirroring his every motion.

Cock still in hand, he moved to his bed and sat down, squeezing his manhood and stifling a moan. Years without pleasuring himself, letting the energy store up and release at will during the nights. He remembered the priest who told him that it was wrong, and to follow to the back. He had followed the priest, and the priest told him to promise not to tell anyone about what would transpire. After Carl gave him a nod, the priest told him that he would help Carl with his 'problem', if Carl would just help him with a little thing. Little Carl, he was only 12 then, just continued to nod, as the priest showed him his own erect dick and told Carl to lick it. Of course, he had ran out of there, and told his parents. A week later the priest was executed. He wondered how it would have been to comply, to have suckled on it like a kid does a nanny's tit.

Stroking his cock, hand moving up, hand moving down, moaning silently as he could while feeling the pressure rising, cock throbbing. He wondered why he hadn't done it sooner. Thoughts of men in his life, nude and erect, entered into his mind as soon a large load overflowed from his hand. In an effort to hide what he had done, he slurped the cum from his finger, the strange taste foreign but oddly satisfying. And then gave the same treatment to the floor, and the bed.

After cleaning up, he rose from the four-legged position he found himself in, and moved to his desk. Not by will, he sat down, and grabbed a piece of paper and a feathered quill, and started writing a letter. He felt himself write words that he did not himself believe - even after what just occurred, he was in doubt - about needing to run away, about loving males and how he could not stay there. How he was never fit to be their family member and how he was oh so sad. Carl shivered as he signed his name at the bottom, knowing that even if he manages to turn back, he would not be able to come back here.

Feeling an urge to leave, and a sudden apprehension to his nudity, he frantically looked through the room for the clothes he had been given by the mandog from yesterday, knowing that nothing else would fit. Finding them, Carl noticed the pant's little tailhole, and cursed himself for not checking the clothes before, having been able to avoid his predicament.

They had looked like ordinary commoners' clothes before, and he had dismissed it as... what was the mandog's name? Kevh? Kevh not owning anything more expensive than that. But they were not. The pants clinged tightly to his legs, and the shirt was cut short at his belly button. How had he not noticed it before? As he spun around in front of the mirror, taking in his shepherd coloring, he took note that the pants did not even cover his crack. Trying to move them up just added discomfort to his semi-hard cock, so he gave up. He had mixed feelings about the look, of finding himself looking as mighty indecent and looking mighty cute. He knew he could not let anyone see him like that inside the castle.

He open the door, just to poke his head out, looking left, looking right. The coast was clear. He had grabbed his pouch from his room, filled with coins that would last him a while. Tip-toeing through the house was exciting, and his heart beat faster and faster as he moved down the stories. Luckily, they did not have many guards, only four of them inside the house and two guarding the front entrance. He glanced two of the ones on the third story, but managed to avoid them, getting down safely.

On the second story he was not so lucky.

"Hey! What are you doing here?!"

Carl started running, but the two guards quickly caught up to him. Stuck between a wall and the two guards, he started explaining himself. "I- I di-did not steal anything, I was, uh, jus-"

Smack! The blow was strong enough, or perhaps Carl was weak enough, that he fell down the ground, cowering.

"Thief!" one of them said, kicking him in the stomach, "Hand us what you stole!"

"Oww! I, I haven't stolen a thing! I was just here to-"

"Don't lie to me! We'll let you go, ay, if you give us what you've taken." He nodded to his guard, "Stand him up, and I'll frisk him."

His pouch hung limp around a belt he had, and they eyed it suspiciously, as if recognizing it. Carl always had felt that money disappeared into nothing at times; he dared not make the accusation. The guard's hands moved over his body, seeing if anything was hidden beneath the tight fabric, paper or other expensive things. He could not lie. It felt good, the strong arms of the guard tapping over his body, he started to harden.

"He ain't got nothing of value but that pouch," the guard said. Yanking it off him, and thus, yanking the belt off of him. Slowly the pants started slipping downwards, revealing his hard member.

The other guard looked down at him, and squinted his eyes. "The Foul is fucking hard!" Carl had never been manhandled before, having always had the protection of his family name. No matter how rude, or how mean he was to someone, he got away with it. He had done a fair share of beating up people himself, never knowing how they felt. He'd see them blue-eyed the next day, but they said nothing. The guards struck him, one blow after another, and his will to fight back declining further and further.

"Stop it!" A voice came from the other side of the corridor. The heavy sound of boots hitting the tiles became louder and louder as the man was fast approaching. The voice gave out an exhaustive breath, "What do you think that you are doing?" It was Eric.

"This Foul thief was fuckin' comin' on to me, and stole from you!" The guard kicked the pouch towards Eric. "Here, see! Your brother's pouch."

"Leave, before I call for Father. You can not just manhandle everyone you do not recognize." Eric's voice as stern and authoritative, and he followed them with his eyes until they were gone to their posts.

Carl had always found Eric to be a man of rationality, countering his own impulsive nature. He had hated it when it was always Eric, despite being so young, who got the responsibility. Making a camp? Eric told him what to do. Out on the practice field? Eric was the star. Always, Eric had to be a better man and a better authority figure than him. Now, he was happy to having had such a brother.

"Thank you for stopping them, if I can-"

"Quiet. Let's get those clothes back on you." Eric offered him a hand and smiled, ignoring Carl's erection. "Now, why were they hitting you?"

Carl was confused. "Wait are you not going to ask what I am doing here, inside your house?"

"Later, stranger. That is for later." He kept on smiling. "We will go to my room and patch you up, tell me meanwhile."

He wanted to resist telling him, and his cheeks were reddening, but something urged him to follow the command. The command of a person better than him. His tail started wagging ever so slightly, as he told: "I, uh, was spotted by them and they... ran after me, because I had been scared and ran away, and they called me a thief and all that - I'm not! - then they started frisking me. It, eh, felt good and my, uh, penis, got hard... one of them noticed it and then-" His tail wagged harder as his blood rushed in his body, years of giving requests without taking one finally over.

Eric opened the door to his room, which lay next to Carl's, and motioned him to move in. "And why did you have my brother's pouch if you are not a thief?" Eric opened a cupboard, where he had band-aid and ointments stored - Carl wondered where he got them from - and looked him up and down, taking note of Carl's indecent clothes.

"Sir Carl gave it to me and-"

"Remove your clothes and lie down on your stomach." Eric pointed at the bed. "Continue."

"and I just accepted it." The lie came easy to him, but he felt his voice shake and the hands massaging healing ointment onto his back went harder than before.

"You are lying." Eric stated, as a matter-of-fact. His hands cupped a feel of Carl's ass cheeks and he jumped. Carl's cock that had previously deflated started coming back to life. "Now, turn around."

Reluctant as he was, he felt his body comply, showing Eric his his quickly hardening sword. Carl did not think of Eric as a brother anymore. They weren't, not when he looked like he did. Not even by blood. He stayed quiet. Eric started circling the ointment into his chest area, before slowly moving downwards, tracing his finger along where Carl's abs would have been. Carl's cock tingled and Eric said, grabbing Carl's balls, "I think that you slept with my brother." Carl shifted as Eric squeezed his balls. "Where is he?" He let go.

Carl tried to speak the truth, but the words he said was not the ones that came out. "I don't know! I woke up alone, and I was confused. He always used to sleep in bed with me, be there when I woke up and help me out... but he was gone. There was a letter on his desk, but I can't read, and the pouch was right there, so I took it!" He exhaled, his heart lifted as Eric bought the explanation.

"I never honestly thought that my brother would- Well... we are finished with treating your wounds. Let us go read that letter together, alright?"

Carl just nodded.

Carl looked over Eric's shoulder at the letter, but despite having written the letter an hour before, could not read it. Eric started,

Greetings, Father, Mother, my Brothers.

This is the last you will hear from me, and I beg your forgiveness.

I can not live life in a lie. I will never be a knight, I was never fit to be a politician. The footsteps my family has taken before me, are too big for me to follow in. I am a simple man, with simple pleasures.

I have a Promised. Give her my regards, as I can not marry her. I do not love women, and I do not want to be bound in the shackles of marriage. My brothers were right about me last night. My mother is right that I need to lose my corset. I promise Mother, I will.

Nevertheless, I will look to find my calling in life. If I find it, I will let you all know.

I love you, for ever and for eternity,

Carl

Eric wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "I will escort you out." He handed Carl the pouch. "Come to our sword practice court when the sun shines three. And I will pay you proper recompense for what the guards did to you."

---

He said his goodbyes with Eric and moved towards the market. Uphill Inn.The sun stood high in the sky, and he reckoned it would be but an hour until noon. People shot him dirty looks as he passed them, spitting behind him. Several times, rude words were shouted after him, alluding both to his attire and people. Things he himself had said to others minding their business. This was the well-off area of the city, where the humans did not mingle with the Foul. It would be different in the market area. Well, kind of.

He stopped a human he thought looked friendly and not in a hurry, "Excuse me, Sir, do you know the way to Uphill Inn?"

The human told him to fuck off.

He tried again, several times, each time being dismissed. Some of them pinched his ass, and he ran off ill-quick. Others told him they might know the way, if he just follows them into a dark alley for a couple of minutes, to help them out. He got the same eerie feeling from those as he had from the priest and hurried along. When one he asked told him to ask his own kind, he sighed and decided to take the advice.

"Turn right there..." the elephantwoman pointed, "then head on straight, second left. What's your business there?" She eyed him up and down.

"Oh, nothing, I have a meeting. Turn right, second left and it is right there?" She nodded. "Thank you."

"It's nothing. Be careful."

Be careful. The words echoed in his mind as he walked the relatively short distance. He could tell why. Here, in the poorer district, it was really no better than in the wealthy. There were more Fouls, many more, but it was just as segregated. Whereas the wealthy would not want to even touch him, these humans' eyes told him that he was their prey, if he is caught unaware. Ready to snatch him at any moment. Carl's eyes darted from left to right, and he guarded his pouch closely, not wanting to lose it like he had the day before.

He sighed of relief as he walked into the safety of Uphill Inn. Stepping up to who he presumed the innkeeper was, he asked at once if the innkeeper knows where "Kevh" is. The innkeeper, being human, wrinkled his nose in disgust and shot a thumb to the right, and then went on with his business.

The mandog was sitting in a padded chair, his legs resting on the table and a mug of beer in his hand. Carl approached him. "Hello, Kevh, remember me?" He noted that his coloring was almost the same as Kevh's, who was also a shepherd. Whatever was in the formula, might as well have used Kevh as a source.

Kevh looked at him curiously, and then shook his head, "Can't say that I do. Are you a relative? Sit down, please."

Carl took a seat. "I'm the man from yesterday, from the market. Bought two vials that were supposed to make me adept at the sword."

"Ah, of course. Of course you are. That was the deal we had, me and my witch friend. I almost forgot, and to think that it was just yesterday. Have you had a chance to try a sword yet?" Kevh motioned downwards, to his dick, resulting in Carl blushing again.

"I- I have not!" He denied it, as was the truth if you did not count his own. But he could not help but imagine the mandog in front of him naked, and commanding, like his former brother had been; himself going down on Kevh's manhood.

"How do you like it, being 'foul'?" Kevh spit out the last word.

He sighed. "It's not very useful."

"It's not," Kevh agreed. "How do you say about us going up to my room, for a little... talk?" He stood up without waiting for answer and moved towards the stairs without looking back.

All Carl could do was to follow, still not having paid back what he owed for the vials, and still not having had a class from Kevh. He could do nothing but follow, as if spellbound to it. Kevh's room was spacious, the suite of this inn. It was strange how a simple helper of a market stall could earn enough money to afford it, especially one so little visited as that.

Kevh locked the clasp of the door behind them. "You look good in those clothes."

"I look like a slut!"

He shrugged. "You wanted to become good with swords. Sluts are."

"What are you insinuating?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all." Kevh paused. "Why don't we start our class?"

"Yes, let's do that." A key lit in Carl's brain, telling him to do exactly as the man says, until the class was over.

"Undress."

Not able to help himself, he started removing his close, heftily.

"Not like that, slower, more sensual. A little bit at a time."

He moved his pants down, rocking slightly from side to side, while looking away from Kevh, giving the mandog a full-sized view of his behind. Carl removed his shirt in a similar way.

Kevh let Carl stand there for a while, while he himself licked his lips. "Now, turn around."

Exposed and in Kevh's complete mercy, Carl went hard for what felt to be the 105thtime that day; eager for release once more. He moved a hand down to his crotch.

"Uh-uh, hold it there. You take care of my needs first, then we take care of yours. Now, move forward to me, swish your hips. More subtle. Yes, like that."

Kevh himself had undressed while Carl was looking the other way. Before, his muscle had been hidden behind his common clothes, but now Carl saw how defined he was. Kevh's cock was not erect, yet still as big as Carl's current one. He licked the tip of his nose.

"Now, move your hands over my chest and hold me in for a tight embrace. Whisper what you want me to do to you in my ear." [...] "No! _Too much!_Seven words. Seven words only."

"Sir, fuck me. Let me suck you." The words were simple and crass, Carl thought, but Kevh seemed to like it, his cock twitching slightly against Carl's lower abdomen.

"Now, go down on your knees, and get me hard. By any means you will."

Carl ran his tongue down along the fur of the mandog, massaging Kevh's buttocks with his hands, as he moved down to his knees. He continued to work him as he slowly started licking above the shaft of the recipient. Carl felt angry at himself, at his not-one-day old body, for going against his wishes. Trying to fight himself, he failed miserably, lapping at Kevh's balls and taking in the tasty aroma. He hated his body for it, but he could not deny that it felt good to devote himself to this. That it felt good to submit.

"Continue, bitch." Kevh commanded, and muttered under his breath, "You'll make a good one."

And so Carl did, Kevh had started to moan, which meant that he must be doing something right. Soon the cock he was pleasing sprung to life, and he was able to lick along its shaft, teasing it with his tongue. The salty taste of pre, Carl loved, eager to get more of it. It was different from his own, more masculine. More demanding. As if it told him that he had to have it. It was the taste of an Alpha, and he was its Omega.

"Take it inside."

He did as bid, and put the tip of the cock inside his mouth, feeling his maw stretch around it, slowly he put it in his mouth while stroking the cock with his hand, to which he was rewarded with more pre-cum oozing into his throat. Carl started using his tongue, licking the cock, wrapping himself around it: he started moaning himself, and his dick started pulsing more than before. Carl humped the air as he was still on his knees, pleasing the sword in front.

If it was a sword in front of him, his own was a knife. The cock going deeper into his throat - he gagged - made him feel embarrassed for his own petty thing. But it did not matter. He did not want to be a man as he once was, all he wanted to do was to serve a sword in the best way possible. Kevh's moaning and dirty talk from above him reaffirming this belief. This is where he belonged and Carl wasn't planning on sticking his dick into anything soon.

Kevh removed himself from Carl, and his cock flopped about, trailing the pre-cum onto Carl's snout and torso. "Now we move to the bed. Lay on your back."

Said and done, Carl found himself on the bed, on his back. Kevh climbed on top of him, placing his head around Carl's crotch and his cock around Carl's mouth, "Suck it."

The feeling of being at someone else's mercy, unable to move, was overwhelming to Carl. Kevh started licking around his crotch, on occasion his balls, and the shaft of his dick. In return he was sucking Kevh, better than he had before. He started bobbing his head upwards and worked the shaft with his tongue, feeling it enlarge every now and then, and then cool down. He continued this way for a little bit until Kevh exclaimed:

"I'm going to cum!"

And cum he did. The first hit Carl's throat, and he was soon filled up, and the cock moved out at its own accord, another spurt of cum hitting Carl's face.

Kevh let nothing rest, as he jumped off Carl, grabbed a towel, and cleaned himself, leaving Carl hanging.

"What about me, Sir?"

Kevh looked at him, "What about you?"

Carl stared at him, jaw hanging, "You said we'd take care of my needs after."

"I lied. That is one of the lessons, we don't. We don't have to. That's not what you are for. Take care of it if you want." Kevh turned around to dress himself.

Carl could not believe his ears, he had been played the fool. Oddly, he did not mind. Looking at the dog dressing in front of him, he wanted to feel its embrace around him. Its protection of him. The thought excited him further and he moved to touch his dick, it already twitching.

The mandog threw a towel at him. "Bah, clean yourself. You can take care of that later."

"But... you said I cou-"

"Take care of yourself, yes. Not in my bed." The dog looked at him, pity in his eyes, "Don't be said, I have a present for you, to celebrate the new you."

"A present? What is it?"

"Not much of a present if I tell you what it is beforehand, is it? Meet me downstairs, you can change to better clothes. Bottom drawer."

The door closed, and Carl thought about disobeying Kevh, to stroke his cock then and there. He weighed the pros and cons against each other. If Kevh could change him into this - and even make him like men! What else could he do? What else could he know? He decided not to risk it.

Clothes were a sign of status. The more common the clothes fabric was, the lower the class of the wearer. Unlike the ones he had worn before, these were true linen. A rich merchant's fabric and color and cutting. He put them on, eager to see how he would look. They had the same dimensions as his more common clothes, the same indecency. He still looked like a slut, and, despite himself, he liked it.

---

Walking down the stairs, he moved his hips slowly, as he had been told to do. Some of the men drinking sneered at him in disgust, others looked at him appreciatively, regarding him, and then turning away, seemingly disappointed.

Carl seated himself next Kevh, "I want more of this. More practice... I want to become a master at it. I have nothing else.

Kevh gave a smug smile, and replied: "I know."

"How do I do it?" Carl cursed himself at how soon the words left his lips, wanting to show more tact. Give a resemblance of dignity and his former self.

"It involves your present."

"Give!"

"Not so loud. It's a secret little thing, and it will give you a lot of practice. Here," Kevh handed him a little box.

Carl opened it, squealing, being met by a red band, glittering in the faint light of the inn. "It's... it's beautiful. But I will look like a Foul one!"

"You are a 'Foul' one, best remember that or you'll get into trouble."

Carl nodded, "Can I, can I put it on?"

"Stand up while you do it."

It was a perfect fit, how it lay there snug against his arm. "Why did I need to sta-" The band shone in a faint light, and he felt odd. He felt his butt rise up a little, and poke out - his back became straighter. His shoes became too big, and his teeth became smaller. His tail laid itself permanently in a more upwards position, giving all who looked a more visible view of his ass. "Oh." He stared at Kevh, feeling as if their relationship had shifted.

"Now you'll be appreciated. Get out of here, and get some practice, alright? Just smile and be happy."

Carl walked out the inn, happy as ever could be, stretching his arms out to catch the sun. He was happy. Happy to show off his new clothes, his class. Happy for his new body. Happy and eager for new adventures. He loved showing off!

And others loved it too. They tried to drag him off, wanting to give him money for no particular reason. Humans and Fouls alike flocked to him. It was the power of the red band. Most were nice to him, in a different way than from before. He kindly refused their advances, wanting practice, but also wanting to get to the castle in time. Others, he had to run away from - they holding knives and looking mighty mean.

He loved the attention - as a human, he had always got it. But that was for a different reason. Like this, he was appreciated. He basked in the attention all the way to the wealthy area.

"May I speak to you for a moment?" A messenger, a fancier one, approached him.

"Of course, Sir. What can I do for you?" Carl responded, giving the messenger a cheerful grin.

"Join me as we walk," the messenger said, eager to get off the streets. "My Master saw you walking down the streets, earlier, and wished for me to find you."

"And?" Carl knew where this was going, the proposal having come before several times. He find the idea of it great, and he wanted to accept, but he had a meeting with his former brother to attend.

"He wishes to have a drink with you, tonight by sundown. He wants a new friend. Do you know of the Diamond Pub?" The messenger looked at him, as if in doubt.

"Of course I have. I can not afford it - tell your Master that I-"

The messenger cut him off. "Do not worry about that. My Master will pay. What may he call you?"

"C-" Carl stopped himself, having not realized that he should not call himself Carl. He needed a name. "Kaxh." He settled for it, sounding enough like a Foul name to be believable. "I will be there. What is your Master's name, so that I can find him?"

"There is no need to worry about that. Tell the guards who you are, and they will bring you to him. I will see you around, Kaxh." The messenger left, leaving me there standing, conveniently outside the castle.

The guards ignored him, and his presence as he walked through the gate - more involved in their conversation than any actual duties.

Kaxh observed the two humans, Sven and Eric, fighting each other. Dodge, stab, jump back, swing, dodge again, now swing. And like that it went for a couple of minutes, before they got to rest. Eric took note of him standing there, staring at them as they were being given instructions, and he waved to him. Waving back, Eric gestured that he would be with him soon.

Soon could not come sooner, as Eric walked away from their swordmaster, and Sven continued to practice. "Hello. You have new clothes," Eric said, looking him up and down, "and a more alert posture too."

"Hello, and... thank you?" Kaxh was uncertain how to respond to his brother, who seemed as intent on him as others who had approached him that.

Eric laughed, "Ha, I'm sorry - I'm still thinking with my sword fighting mind. A good posture is important. Have you ever held a sword before?"

Kaxh contemplated the answer. He had, of course, held a sword. Heck, it was just the day before. But he put himself into the situation that he was in - dressed in a merchant's colors and linen. Would a wealthy merchant have a sword nearby? Likely. Would he let his weakling son carry it? Probably not. "I- I have touched swords, never carried one. Father is a merchant, and he was always afraid I would drop it..." Kaxh trailed off with his answer.

Eric put his sword forth, hilt towards Kaxh. "Carry it for me, to the armory." Kaxh gave a look of horror, he would rather not. "Oh, don't worry. It is a blunted practice sword, it has no value. Take it."

Kaxh knowing Eric, knew Eric rather just didn't carry it back himself, but he could say nothing. He took a hold of it, the way he used to, and almost fell to the ground by the weight. Flustered, he stood up, holding it, a strain on his face, "It's, uh, heavy."

"It is! And yet you hold it like you were raised for it."

Kaxh shrugged, and they made their way to the armory in silence, putting it back into the rack, where it usually lay. Eric did not say a word, as he casually observed.

"Why don't we go inside, and to my room, where we can discuss your situation?" Eric looked down at his red band, "And where did you get the red band from? You did not have one earlier, if we see my father, hide it as well as you can."

Kaxh nodded, "But why would I need to hide it? I got it from a friend today, a gift."

"Because it labels you as a manwhore. You are almost as clueless as Carl is," Eric sighed, and started walking, Kaxh trailing behind. "But I... thought at least one wearing one would know. How Carl even found little ignorant you to satisfy his thirst is a wonder... how did he find you?"

"He... he didn't." Kaxh quickly sought in his memory for something, a convincing line. He remembered one time when a maid came into his room at night. They had a good time, then, she pushing herself onto him. "The first time... I snuck into the house an-"

"You are a thief!" Eric exclaimed.

"No, no! I... was on an errand, to your father. My father had sent me here, to talk to your father about a deal. And... it was late... so he let me sleep here. And I accidentally walked into your brother's room..."

"And you fucked him?"

Kaxh nodded.

"What's your name?"

"Kaxh." He croaked, "It's Kaxh."

"Well, Kaxh. I will ask my father if he has heard of you. After we have settled what I owe."

---

Kaxh sat on Eric's bed, locked in, clasping a heavy purse of money. Tapping on the nightstand. Waiting. His former father had a good memory. A great memory, always remembering the little things little Carl had done, using them to embarrass him. There had never been a Kaxh in the household. Never. Kaxh had been foolish to involve his father.

That was the one thing that hadn't changed about him. Acting first, thinking later. He was in for some trouble - being Carl's reported lover, and lying about it. If he was lucky, he would be executed like the priest, if he wasn't...

Kaxh jumped under the bed, hiding.

The door clicked open, and Eric and the father stepped in. "Where is he?" The father demanded off of Eric, who answered with a weak voice:

"I... I locked the door. He can't have gone out, he must be in here."

"He must be in here? He must be in here? The liar can be anywhere!"

Slap!

"Don't look at me like that. He might have found a key, picked his way out, climbed down the wall - only God knows!"

"He is not built like that, father. He is a whore, born and bred - asking for cock with every step. He has one of your red bands."

"That's important information, fool. If he is in this room, as you claim, he will come crawling out. Kaxh will come crawling out, because Kaxh wants to be bred, and Kaxh can't resist, for I have called on his taken name. Kaxh wishes to be fucked, long and hard, and will come before me now."

Kaxh felt a pull on his will, as the words came. He was not a whore! He was not going to show himself! He was not! His red band took on a faint glow, as it had when he first put it on. As the man continued to speak, his mind started to haze and he felt a desire to just let in. Let go, and show himself. Let the man take him.

He crawled out of under the bed, and when the man took notice of him, he grabbed him by the clothes and threw him on the bed.

"Where is he?" The man asked, violent, and ripped the clothes off Kaxh. "Whore, tell me where he is!"

"I don't know Sir!" The reply came out as a mumbled mixture of words, but the man understood the message.

The man sighed, calming himself. "Of course. Why don't you turn around, Kaxh?"

Kaxh did so, and the man quickly undressed himself. "You know, he is my heir. The one I had hoped to ascend the space I leave behind when I'm gone," he spit, and then placed his cock between the cheeks of Kaxh, letting it sit, "and you have made him gay."

"And now you even have a red band.. You don't even know what it does, do you?"

Kaxh shook his head, and pushed his ass back, trying to get the man to enter him - but being met with a hand pushing him down.

"It binds you. It binds you to a life as a servant, as a lower citizen. You might have nice garb, as you did, but that is the band owner's choice. He dresses you as he sees fit, and you have to comply. Not that you would complain, of course. Because you love doing as he says, you love doing as anybody says. All they need is your name, that you take yourself after you put on the red band." He pushed his tip in Kaxh, and Kaxh let out a yelp.

"When you first put it on, it makes small changes to you. Among other, small, things, it makes you self-lubricate. You have a lovely ass, round and firm, warm and inviting. I understand why my son liked you. Made you his plaything, even if you didn't have it before. How was it? Having Carl's cock inside of you?" The man continued to push his cock in deeper, Kaxh squirming.

"I made these bands, with some help. The war you Foul lost, that was thanks to the bands. You outnumbered us, but we captured some of your warriors. Your finest lot. A brewer gave them a vials, with a pink liquid in. And then, they started sucking each other. Pleasing each other. Polishing each other. They couldn't stop - obsessed and angry if separated. And I had an idea," he pushed in fully, and then out again, and then back in.

"Eric, have him suck you off. I had an idea, crafting these red bands, using common witch runes, we could control them, and their desire. Approved, we sent these off. I got into contact with others from their camp, small people, I promised to make them leaders. They just needed to put the pink vial in the meal of the soldiers - they did. It was easy to attack these wanton soldier, they wanting rather fuck than fight you. We gave them all red bands, the ones who had poisoned the meals, claiming ownership."

He stopped talking and continued fucking, Eric put his dick in Kaxh's mouth, as Kaxh contemplated what had been said. The man was never a hero, like all the others said, he was thinking with his cock rather than his brain. But Kaxh didn't mind, the cock that had done the thinking plowing him into a bliss. Kaxh followed the cock, pushing back as it pushed in, loving every second of it.

Caught between his former family, his own cock was twitching, having been stopped edging before. He imagined Eric doing to him, what he did to Eric, as Eric called him names.

"Bitch," Down on your knees, Eric, like that. Put it in you. Good boy. Continue - you wish you were a dog too, huh?

"Whore," Not even worth half-a-brass, are you? You would do it for free, but then you wouldn't have any money to live. Poor Eric, we can't have that. Suck it, take it all.

"Slut."

Kaxh had to interrupt himself, the man plowing him slowing down to a lulling pace, taking things slow, and then speeding up again. He muttered things under his breath, fuck me, harder, harder - but it came out a mumbled mess, the cock in his mouth blocking the air.

And then the man paced up, and stopped, deep into his ass and filling him with cum, and then holding it there, exhausted.

Eric pulled his pulsing cock out of Kaxh's maw, and sprayed him with cum. Once. Twice.

Kaxh's former father pulled out, and slapped his cum-filled out. He put up his pants and left the room. Kaxh felt empty.

"You best leave," Eric said, handing Kaxh his clothes. "I'm sorry."

---

With a sore ass, trashed clothes, and cum dried into his fur, he managed to sneak out of the house with Eric's help. He caught a lot of attention in town, running around like he was, but he managed to make it to Uphill Inn, where he found Kevh.

"I need to speak to you." He said Kevh stood up and walked up the stairs, the way he had done last time. Kaxh followed.

"I see you got practice."

"You know who I am."

"Of course I know who you are - I had my dick in your mouth at noon..."

"You know who I was."

"Everyone did. It's no secret. Your father saved your people."

"Saved? By what, fucking yours? He created these," Kaxh tried to rip the red band off, to no avail, "these fucking things. Poisoned your food with the same stuff you gave me!"

"Now, don't be rude. It is a turn off. I know what he did. I put the mixture in the pot, how else would we have had it at our stall?" Kaxh's eyes were wide, "Oh, don't look at me like that. I know it was wrong ... that is why I'm making it right."

"Sir, making it right is not what I'd call it! Look at me - I look... I look like a common street whore!"

"Bah, drama is no fun. Be nice. It is not that bad, clean up, put on some new clothes and it will be fine. Besides, who told you what your father did? It's a well-kept secret. For a reason."

"He... he did. He told me."

"Was he the one who did this to you?"

Kaxh looked down, "Yes."

"Ptf. Tell me why."

"Well, when I woke up this morning... I was like this. I tried to sneak out of the building, but guards caught me and beat me. My brother, Eric, stopped them, helped me with some bruises and sent me off. He told me to come back later. I did, after I left you, and he asked me how... I met me. You know? I had to explain why I was in the mansion... I said I had been a vessel between 'my father' and my father. A lie. My former father doesn't like lies. Eric told father, who saw through it, and I was locked into Eric's room... and then." Kaxh shrugged. "At least he let me keep the money Eric gave me." Kaxh grabbed a heavy pouch from under some of the worn clothes he had been holding.

Kevh sat quiet for a moment. "He always does this." He shook his head, "That is why I changed you, to teach him a lesson. That is why I will change Sven, why I will change Eric. And, when he is alone, he will be changed too. It has to be that way."

"Please... please don't - can't you talk to him?"

"You are a funny one, of course I can't - now be quiet."

Kaxh found himself unable to utter a word, as he sat in front of the mandog.

"Give me the money."

Said and done. Kaxh could not protest, though he wanted to. That was his money!

"Thank you. Give me a blow job, for the sake of it, then you can go."

He did so eagerly, and licked his lips when done.

"Good job. Give me your band," Kevh wrote something on it, it looked like a small signature, but Kaxh could not read what it said. "There we go. Remember to bring me the money that you earn today, and be careful, alright? Don't want your pretty bum getting hurt, do we?"

Kaxh shook his head.

"Good. Find a nice man who treats you like an equal for a night. See you tomorrow." He ushered Kaxh out the door.

He had a meeting at the Diamond Pub at sundown, but nothing to do until then. He passed the time playing around with strangers, earning money all the while. A high libido allowed for this and he liked the job. Each stranger different, each cock different. But, as the sun climbed down to sleep and he was making his way to the Diamond Pub, he felt as if something was missing.

---

They laughed and drank, enjoying their time together. Kaxh loved the man. When he introduced himself as Kaxh, he told the man that he knew him only as "Master", from what his messenger had called him. The man told him it was as suiting a name as any, laughing. And so that is what Kaxh called him.

Kaxh's new body was not used to alcohol though, puny as it was, and he soon passed out.

He woke up in a large room, laying on a blanket on the ground. The rooms walls were no ordinary walls - instead there were mirrors and wherever he looked, he saw himself. He was naked, and had a red collar around his next. The red band around his arm was gone. He moved closer to a mirror, seeing a nameplate on the collar.

He could not read, let alone read backwards, but he knew what it was, a pet name. He tried opening the door, being successful, and stepped outside.

"Ah, Fido. You are awake."

---

Thank you for reading! If you want to read, you can read The Witch's House or any of my other short stories (some with sex in focus)

As said, any feedback is more than appreciated. Pacing, flow, characters, the sex, the dialog. Whether it needs to be edited more. A long comment, a short comment, a favorite, a watch, a vote - positive or negative, whatever! It will all help me improve and do better next time :)