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William Uxbridge's mood had improved the further they had gotten from the prison. His early excitement about being selected to accompany Lysander Zane had been tempered by the latest round of whispers of nepotism. Despite admiring his father immensely, he'd gotten weary of always being under the yoke of having him as a commanding officer.

He had always tried to go out of his way to be nice to the other guards, volunteered for the worst duties, and covered shifts - within reason - if someone was feeling ill, hung over or randy and wanting to pop back down to the village. Despite this, if he received any commendation or reward the whispers would start.

This adventure, even if it was only temporary, was great. The two prisoners - Yule Baker and Timothy Morton - had been as irritating as always, but hadn't been especially troublesome, and he'd gotten on pretty well with Lysander's giant of an initiate initiate, Richard, who had guarded the prisoners while he had been asleep.

They'd talked a little at first - both inexperienced and so eager to appear professional - but after about half a day of travelling they had started to talk off and on, in between Richard's training with Lysander and his prayers, and when William wasn't attending to the prisoners.

Richard the Frank was, unsurprisingly given the lack of a last name, an orphan, and had grown up under the care of the priests of the Holy Hand. Being strong even as a boy, he was eventually picked for paladin duties, even though apparently he would get sick quite easily and quickly became short of breath after some amount of effort. William, in turn, had told him about his own life: growing up in the village, his father a guard at the prison who slowly rose through the ranks, joining him when he became of age.

While the armoured Lysander and their reluctant guide, a very shy, weak and short local hunter named Ragnar Farrier, discussed the best travel plan for the last portion of their journey - the Overton Ruins were only one weeks' walk through the forest from town - William wandered over to Richard with two bowls of hot stew for the prisoners.

"How are you faring, Yule?" William inquired, handing the crotchety old scholar one of the bowls.

As he picked his nose, the elderly scholar grumbled, "I was quite happy in my cell, believe it or not. Not much of a chance of getting rained on in there, none of this infernal walking for days, and plenty of time to indulge in some personal research. I was near the end of the Kensing family history, and by the time we get back from this pointlessly moist venture I'll have lost all of the background I had remembered and have to start all over again."

William grinned as he handed the other bowl to the scrawny thief, "Yes, but now you'll get a chance to examine some history for yourself!"

The young man gave his guard a withering look. "That, my dear boy, is a job for the young," he explained matter-of-factly.

William shrugged, "It's not too much farther, at any rate. How about you, Timothy? Arms not too sore from the crutches."

The one-legged thief just stared at him as he sat on a rock, spooning the stew into his mouth.

"They don't really like you very much," observed Richard.

William grinned, "I'm pretty used to not being liked, don't worry. It comes with the job description." He stretched awkwardly in his leather armour: after nearly a week of travel with the current awkward group, William was starting to feel stiff in a number of ways. He grunted, his leather leggings becoming awkwardly uncomfortable around his groin as he tried to relax.

"Feeling sore?" asked Richard.

William nodded, returning over to the bubbling stew-pot to get another two bowls while Richard watched over the prisoners. Ladling out the warm, brown stew, he noted Ragnar was packing up his backpack.

Lysander called out to them, "Eat quickly, we'll be heading out soon."

Quickly handing one of the bowls to Richard, William asked, "How much farther do you think it is?"

Richard shrugged, "I'm not sure, but I think Brother Lysander wants to get there before nightfall."

William wolfed down the stew: it was pleasant and filling, and he made short work of it. Richard collected the bowls from the prisoners, dumping out the small amount remaining and collecting the used bowls and utensils into the pot. Wiping his face, William passed by Richard, carrying his own bowl over while Richard watched the prisoners.

"I'll wash the dishes and put out the fire," William volunteered. It was a duty that either he or Richard would have to do, and Richard would have a harder time catching up.

Lysander nodded, calling out, "Brother Richard, prepare the prisoners for transport." Ragnar was loping away, going off to scout ahead.

"Yes, Brother Lysander," Richard replied, his giant arms easily removing the pin that kept the prisoner's shackled ankles from travelling too far from the end of the dragging chains.

William, kicking some loose dirt over the embers, watched as the two paladins and two prisoners slowly assembled into a party: the former two followed the latter pair, weapons at the ready, following the trail that the frail Ragnar was marking out.

They had passed by a small stream half an hour ago, and William felt confident he could backtrack. He hadn't completely volunteered out of altruism: his genitals were sweatily straining against his pants, and he was worried one of the others was going to notice a bulge. If he finished up quickly, he was going to relieve himself before rejoining the party.

It was a relatively pleasant spring day: enough cloud cover and a gentle breeze to keep from getting overly hot striding around in armour carrying heavy equipment. William whistled to pass the time as he walked.

Even though the weather had been amenable, by the time he reached the stream William was sweating profusely: his dirty blond hair was plastered against his face, his muscular but untoned body was coated by his under-shirt like a second skin, and his armour felt as though it had contracted. Walking around so soon after eating a hot meal had probably not been the best idea. Sighing, he thought, "At least I'm out of the prison."

The stream was bordered on either side by a drop of about half his height and then a couple of feet of exposed dirt. Both consisted of loose, water-eroded soil. Prudently, William removed his pack and left it a couple of feet from the edge before heading down with the washing. Bracing himself near the edge, he tried to jump down safely; unfortunately, the soil decided that his weight was enough, and instead he toppled forwards.

William quickly braced himself, throwing the cooking equipment out of the way before smashing heavily into the river. His face immediately plunged into the water, the surprise giving him little time to catch his breath; choking, he pushed himself up on his aching arms. His whole body stung, and his front half was wet and muddy, but his quick reflexes had meant he'd avoided any serious damage and hadn't lost any of the cooking equipment.

Swearing profusely, William got to his feet; water, mud and dirt dripped and dropped from his front as he wiped himself down. That had definitely decided it for him: he was going to take a bit of personal time to relax before he caught up once he'd finished doing the dishes.

Grabbing the cooking equipment from where he had dropped them, he started to scrub them, checking to see if he'd damaged any during the fall. Everything seemed not too much the worse for wear, for which William was somewhat relieved.

After cleaning the last bowl and placing it into the pot with the rest of the cleaned dishes, William turned to place them on the top of the ledge, only to be met with a heavy foot arcing up to meet him square in the face.

* * *

William's next conscious thought came as he felt a steady drizzle of warm water pouring over him, the droplets sliding over his exposed skin, running over the contours of his muscles and belly. His body's hair was all matted down, leaving slightly darker streaks against his pale skin: working in a dark prison hadn't proffered him a chance of getting a manual labourer's tan.

"There we go," the light, male voice noted with satisfaction as William moaned.

His face started to throb; William suddenly remembered the kick to the face. His nose felt swollen and painful, and his lips stung as the water dripped over where they had been cut.

Tentatively, William opened his eyes, trying not to let too much water run into them. There was very little to make out: it was very dark wherever he was, and his head was still swimming. Held upright, his arms ached from where shackles kept him standing up whilst he'd been unconscious, his feet barely touching the cold cobblestone floor.

Somewhere nearby, he heard a rustling: someone, probably wearing some kind of soft footwear, was walking around. He heard a loud squelching sound, then the heavy sound of hooves on stone.

"W-what?" William grunted. His eyes closed again: he couldn't see anything, and the water was too irritating.

The voice commanded, "Come here." More hoof sounds, then a rather sensual moan. Even with the shower and pain of his nose, William registered the scent of something potently musky. Someone - or something - moaned rather sexually, and he heard the sound of flesh against flesh, followed by another loud squelch.

The voice commanded, "Go stand over there, while I get him out of those shackles. Keep him restrained, but don't start until I tell you to." William tried to protest, but the hoof-beats came over closer.

William tried opening his eyes now, just in time for his view of the light to be blocked by a large, musky-smelling figure walking towards him, hooves clopping on the ground. The lighter footfalls ran around his periphery; slowly the room started to get lighter as he heard the crackle of fire.

William suddenly felt two muscular arms grabbing him around his waist; one strong arm gripped him around his chest, the other hand's thick fingers grasping rudely around William's member, the goo that was on it slowly being rubbed over his genitals.

The creature's hairy chest pressed into William's back: it was much larger and heavily muscled than him; and when William tried to struggle he was quickly subdued. The creature's body was hairy, the bristly hairs itching his wet skin, and it had a short, thick muzzle that rubbed against William's ear and right shoulder. A sharp point jabbed into William's temple. The creature - definitely male - rubbed its large, thick erection up and down against William's body. Its shaft was coated with some goo, which was left in a large line down along his spine.

"N-no!" William protested. In spite of himself, the ministrations of the creature made his own penis stiffen: even though his own was, albeit slightly, larger than average, the creature's erection was almost twice the length of his own, and appeared to be very bestial.

Despite the water continuing to fall, the goo the creature had left on his back and genitals seemed to stick. It smelt musky, as though someone had concentrated the scent of manliness into a lotion. William tried to shake his head clear, but the scent intoxicated his brain.

There was enough light for William to see now. He was in what he guessed was an underground dungeon, though not one that seemed to be designed for conventional prisoners.

He'd heard rumours of the peccadilloes of Overton, but now he could quite believe them. The dungeon was designed for sexual perversions, or at least this specific chamber. A large, opulent, though faded bed was in front of him, tilted slightly to allow anyone inside the bed to easily see the centre of the chamber, which had been designed as an arena that allowed the people in the bed to enjoy whatever spectacle was going on in here. The showering device seemed to be of a more recent addition, judging by the fresh drainage holes and the newness of the wood and metal. Around the room on old, heavy wooden tables were all manner of devices, the uses of which made William feel nervous.

The aroused creature currently molesting him principally resembled a goat, though it had human-like body shape and hands. The hand of the arm pressed around his chest idly touched his nipple, making William squirm.

Finally, William noticed the man: he'd returned into his range of view, wearing nothing but a pair of thick woollen socks. He seemed to give off the impression of being a very elderly man despite looking somewhere between the ages of William and his father. He had the slightly slender, not-really-toned physique of a noble or merchant, with shortly cropped dark hair. His erect penis bobbed up and down, a metal ring tightly fastened around its base, glinting and shining from the light of the torch in his hands. Another glint came from around his neck, where a dull thing shone from a thread slightly visible against his pale skin.

The man set this torch in the empty sconce beside the bed, before coming over towards William and the goat-man holding on to him.

"W-who are you?" William choked out, the goat-man pressing his lungs, making it difficult to breathe.

The man, who had paused at the edge of the shower to remove his socks, smiled as he looked at William. "You're not really the best one from your group," he stated, "and you're definitely not up to the same level as my other playthings, but you've definitely got some potential, especially after I'm done with you."

Tossing the socks behind him, the man introduced himself, "I am Edmund Overton, the last of the Overton family."

William struggled, confused. Overton had been sacked well over fifty years ago, and the family had all been executed or exiled.

"Don't worry about it dear," the man claiming to be Edmund Overton stated, "you're not here for a history lesson. You're here for this." Suddenly, the man had leapt at him, his hands quickly caressing over William's wet, hairy body, his lips meeting William. William had never kissed a man on the lips before, but he didn't particularly find it as disturbing as he had expected to.

Their lips parted, and Edmund announced, "First things first." Grinning, the slightly unattractive man reached for the key around his neck. As he unlocked William's shackles, he mumbled, "Sometimes those are fun, but not with what I have in mind for you."

"What do you think of my pet satyr?" Edmund asked suddenly. "Not a real one, of course. One day I'll perfect the recipe, but until then I need volunteers to test them out on."

"Vol-" William began, but Edmund quickly cut him off.

"Now," he ordered. The satyr immediately stopped groping William's erection, which was starting to throb, and instead shifted his gooey hand to William's rear, where the thick fingers started to gently probe his hole. Edmund, meanwhile, slid down in front of William, one hand wrapped around his own penis, the other gently tugging on William's as Edmund slowly wrapped his lips around the tip of the shaft.

William moaned in pleasure. Some of his fellow guardsmen had talked about women - particularly prostitutes - doing this for them, and he'd been kind of curious to know what it felt like, though had never dared. Now, however, the musk still had its talons in his mind, and he felt himself relaxing, willing to go along with Edmund for the moment. He even allowed himself to unclench his ass; the satyr eagerly took the opportunity to stick one hefty finger inside him, smearing the ring with the goo and firmly probing William's insides.

The satyr's finger probed in and out, working the goo around the ring and slowly loosening up William's hole. It cleaned William out as well, cupping some of the falling water in his hand before tilting William over; the water would run in, then the satyr would pull him backwards, and the water would trickle down the inside of William's legs.

William started to whimper, breathing heavily as the satyr seemed to find a particularly pleasurable place on his insides to push. He could feel his excited erection dribbling out some pre-ejaculate into Edmund's mouth. Edmund's tongue rubbed up and down on the tip of William's cock, as his lips tightened and loosened, milking the shaft.

The satyr forced another heavy finger inside of him, stretching William open slightly. He grunted as he felt a third finger sliding in not too long afterwards.

The head of William's shaft was becoming almost too sensitive; his penis was twitching and throbbing, the pressure building inside him becoming nearly too intense to withstand. Edmund was relentless in sucking and squeezing his cock with his mouth, determinedly jerking on his shaft, and using his free hand to rub between the end of his penis and his stretched asshole.

His mouth opening in a moan, William ejaculated; water dripped into his upwardly-tilted mouth as his thigh muscles twitched, as the pressure inside him was released. The touch of Edmund's mouth and tongue intensified.

For a full second, his cock tip expanded, releasing the first thick burst of semen into Edmund's awaiting mouth; Edmund responded by milking his shaft further, opening it up a second time for nearly as long.

His own cock still twitching, William felt his hole being stretched further: the satyr was trying to fit his thick, long rod into his stretched rear. He tried to protest, but he was too distracted by his own spasming penis to put up much of a fight.

Edmund reached between William's legs, rubbing between his legs and gripping his shaft tight enough to disgorge the rest of his ejaculate into Edmund's mouth. Removing his mouth, some ejaculate still glistening on his lips, Edmund noted, "You didn't really last as long as I'd expected. Then again, I'm not surprised if you've never before explored the pleasures that other men can give you."

The satyr bent William forward as Edmund, red throbbing cock dripping with excitement, stood in front of the guard. Edmund wordlessly guided William's face to be in line with his groin, the request for reciprocation implicit.

Even though he felt drained, and was still under the influence of the musk, William had enough self-control to deny the subtle command, his mouth remaining firmly closed. Edmund tried to coax his mouth open by running his fingers through William's hair, but William was stubborn.

After a few moments of inattention, Edmund grunted in annoyance, "You really shouldn't fight, it'll make things more comfortable for you, but I don't mind hurrying things along somewhat." Leaving wet footprints on the cobblestone floor, Edmund walked frustratedly over towards one of the tables, searching around for something.

William screamed: the satyr had managed to stop fumbling, and William felt his ass being stretched as the satyr's large, inhuman cock slipped partially into his bent-over body. The satyr gripped onto his waist tightly, William's softening penis and drained balls flailing and jostling about, water dripping off in arcs as they swung.

While the first thrust was painful and surprising, the second was even more intense as more of the creature's cock slid inside William's guts. With each thrust, William couldn't help to moan in a mixture of pain, surprise and - confusingly - pleasure.

Edmund returned, his jaw shivering from having left the wet shower to walk around in the dry, cool dungeon chamber. His hand gripped a collar, the inside surface etched with runes that William noted glowed increasingly bright as it got near his neck. Panting and moaning, William was then distracted when about half of the satyr's forearm-length cock was buried inside him.

The closer the collar came to William's neck, the foggier and more confused his thinking became; already distracted by the satyr's thick tool thrusting deeper and deeper into him, any thought he could muster would disappear almost as soon as he realised it.

Edmund opened the collar; it didn't seem to need to be locked by an external lock, instead separating in two pieces that Edmund brought around William's neck. The pieces became attracted to one another, quickly sealing shut around his neck and completely silencing all of his own thoughts.

Inside his head, William heard "Now satisfy me." He grew quiet, the subconscious desire to moan at being fucked removed, and instead became strongly attracted to Edmund's cock. The collar made it seem thick, and red, and juicy, and he reached out for Edmund. Grabbing the other man's smooth butt, William pulled Edmund closer, embedding his nose into Edmund's crotch before clumsily sliding his open, wet mouth over the hot, straining dick in front of his face.

At the back of his mind, William noted that the satyr had grunted, his large cock finally encased in William's insides. William's tongue licked up the juices from Edmund's shiny, almost purple cock-tip, his lips opening.

The satyr grunted and bleated, the three males bouncing as the satyr and Edmund thrust into William at both ends. William's natural tendency to gag was suppressed, his mind interpreting the sensation of Edmund's penis head oozing onto the roof of his mouth, or jabbing him in the back of the throat, or the satyr's rapid, lustful thrusting and the tight grip of the satyr's strong hands on his waist as all wonderful and pleasurable.

The satyr came forcefully after a few strokes once he'd plunged deep into William. William's intestines were already damp with the goo and the creature's natural lubricating juices, and the hot, thick jets of satyr semen mixed in with them, slowly trickling out of his red, stretched sphincter and collecting in small depressions in his insides. The heavy, hairy body on top of William sagged in exhaustion as the cock throbbed and gushed.

Edmund continued to thrust into William's mouth as the satyr continued ejaculating into him. The hair on the back of William's neck tingled as the satyr's muzzle snorted repeatedly. After a few final squeezes of William's hips, the satyr eased himself out, followed by a heavy trickle of fluids that the shower quickly washed away. William's dripping hole pulsed as it was finally released from the burden of being fucked.

William heard Edmund moan in approval, the other man's fingers digging into his shoulder blades. His perception of time was impossible; the only thing he seemed to be able to do was suckle on the cock forcefully thrusting into his mouth.

Edmund reached down; the cock ring around the base of his shaft was release and he yelled out in pleasure. William was greeted with a thick burst of semen squirting down his throat, being rubbed into his tongue as Edmund continued to thrust. William felt a tingle of pleasure running through himself as well, as the mind-controlling collar reflected Edmund's personal feelings into William's mind.

As Edmund pulled his dick out of William's mouth, he started to scrub, some of his seed dripping from William's lolling tongue as the guard remained on his hands and knees under the slowing fall of the shower.

With a click, Edmund removed the collar, and as he walked to put it back on the table, William started to regain his senses. Despite having been under the warm running water of the shower, he felt dirty, and incredibly sore. The old aching of his face was matched with that of his rear, which throbbed after the onslaught of the satyr's penis. Out of the influence of the collar, the memories of what he had just done flooded in. William struggled to his feet, eager to get away, but his whole body ached and he felt exhausted after the sex.

"Do you have somewhere you need to be?" Edmund inquired as William groaned, awkwardly trying to hobble away, his legs bowed. "I wouldn't be in too much of a rush if I were you, my new plaything."

William, not quite in the right frame of mind, shivered as he scrabbled away naked and wet. The thick wooden door was closed, but he hoped if he made it over there he could summon enough strength to force it open.

Edmund sighed exasperatedly, remarking, "I have guards stationed immediately outside that door: two of my creations whom I'm sure you'll be interested in meeting. In fact, since you seem so eager to get to where they are..."

William heard an oddly echoing clap from over his shoulder. Suddenly, the door opened and the giant satyr and an even larger black bear entered. The black bear had a collar on, similar to the one Edmund had put on William.

Realising that he was greatly outmatched, William wailed in pure exhaustion, "What do you want?"

"Another round," Edmund replied. "But you need to relax a little, and I need time to prepare. Why don't you go to the bed to rest yourself. It won't take me too long to prepare everything."

Resignedly, William padded towards the bed, hoping that if he allowed himself some time to recover that he might be better prepared to escape. From behind he could hear the hefty thud as the large door was closed behind him.

Edmund, clinking together various vials and pouring them together, inquired, "I'm curious: what brought you and the rest of your party to these parts?"

William remained silent as he lay down on the bed. Although he had just been a guard, he'd been trained not to answer questions if captured.

"Not very talkative, I see," Edmund noted at the lack of an answer. Turning theatrically, he grinned in a way that made William shiver, "Well, perhaps if I were to guess, you could tell me if I was right or not?

"You're William Uxbridge, formerly a guard of the Jagged Cape Prison, here on special orders from Lysander Zane, the famous paladin, and the Holy Hand. You were asked to oversee two prisoners. The first is Yule Baker, a crotchety old academician and parlour trick specialist."

From the tone of "parlour trick specialist," William gathered Edmund did not think too highly of the imprisoned mage.

Edmund continued, "The second is the one-legged thief, Timothy Morton. Rounding out your little party is Richard the Frank, a rather giant and over-truthful paladin, and Ragnar Farrier, a weedy and rather stupid hunter who is serving as your guide. As far as you know, you're here because the Holy Hand have heard rumours of 'monsters' in the area, and they're sending a few people out to deal with it, whether it's actually monsters or not."

William remained silent: even though Edmund was correct, he didn't want to possibly risk the others' capture if he could help it.

"Still nothing?" Edmund sighed, placing a couple of bottles onto a small serving tray. "No matter; I'm almost done. Now we can sit here and wait for your friends to rescue you!" Rolling his eyes, Edmund carried the tray over to the bed.

Forcing a large, fat bottle filled with a brown liquid into William's hands, Edmund prompted, "Drink this, it'll help you recover faster." As William eyed it, Edmund rolled his eyes, "It's not poison if that's what you're worried about; I have my peculiarities but necrophilia is not one of them, and I'd hate for you to mess up the bed. As you've probably guessed, I've been rather limited on the number of servants I have around."

William tentatively sniffed the bottle; it smelled rather strongly of alcohol, leading him to cough. Edmund chuckled, "You've been unconscious for a while, and I've had a mind-controlling collar put on you. If I wanted to do anything terrible to you I'd have already had plenty of time to do it."

When William still didn't drink it, Edmund rolled his eyes, grabbed the bottle and downed a little of the liquid before handing it back. "There! Are you satisfied now? Completely safe!" he admonished as he passed a small vial full of a creamy liquid between his hands.

William slowly sipped at the liquid; it burned as it went down, but it left a pleasingly spicy after-taste, and settled into his stomach nicely. Not long afterwards, some of his aches and pains began to settle down.

Edmund's free hand wandered over to William's thigh, gently caressing the leg near to his groin, as he quickly downed the contents of the vial.

"In many ways," Edmund said, "I quite admire you: wanting to get out of your comfort zone to prove to your father and everyone else what a hero you are."

Surprised, William turned, before Edmund batted his hand in a figurative display of dismissal. "Don't be like that," Edmund argued, "you already know I've been into your mind. I think being brave and heroic is a very admirable, and useful trait. Not one that I have, of course, but I do enjoy being a smart, sneaky, depraved little bastard."

William drank a little more of the alcohol. It seemed to have healing properties: his face and ass were a lot less sore than the had been. Surprisingly, he even felt a little stronger than usual.

Edmund continued, "But of course, most of the other guards don't really appreciate you. You're too friendly; always feeling guilty for being your father's son and trying to make up for it. You're brave, and strong, but you lack the 'power' that you need, if you understand what I mean."

William, drinking the bottle dry, nodded; all the pain he'd been suffering had been dulled, and he was feeling very revitalized: his muscles felt tighter, like the were prepared any moment to burst out of his skin. As Edmund talked and rubbed the inside of his thigh, William felt amazed as he started to get hard again; he wouldn't have thought this was possible, but Edmund had said he'd wanted to have sex again. "Yeah," he agreed.

"Lysander has it," Edmund observed. "Your father has it too." He quickly stood up, sliding one leg over William until they were face to face, Edmund in his lap, running his hands up and down William's sides.

"I think the two of us could come to an arrangement," Edmund stated, gently caressing William's body. "I need what's in here," he explained, his hands cupping William's hairy balls which seemed to swell as Edmund touched them, "and I'll do almost anything to get it. Imagine being the captain of the guard; would you like that? Having that power, that authority, that ability to command respect instead of seeking it out from others?"

William's body tingled with excitement: Edmund had somehow tapped into what he really wanted, and having him state it was somewhat exciting. He imagined what it would be like, grabbing the other guards by the scruff of the neck, being able to bodily pick them up and bellow orders to them, only to send them scampering away, eager to please him.

William panted heavily, gazing in lust at his crotch as Edmund handled his genitals. His balls had grown, his hairy sack tightening around them, and his cock was throbbing a deep red purple, poking up sharply out of his thick pubic bush. Above them, he could see that some of his belly had melted away, the underlying musculature more prominent. His pectorals, already toned, were starting to expand as he himself grew larger. The hairs on his body seemed to grow darker as well, their pale blondness slowly turning completely dark.

"Yes," Edmund agreed, "you'd like to be a huge, powerful, monster, commanding those under you to obey your every word. And such a marvellous male figure would need an equally potent member, to show everyone just what a powerful stud he was."

William moaned, "Fuck, yes!" Eagerly, he watched as his testicles blossomed in Edmund's hands: the round, hefty orbs hung down in a scrotum that filled both of the other man's hands, the skin having to thicken around them to hold on to the added weight. His cock, beginning to lose its humanity, speared upwards, the texture becoming smoother and the shape more pointed. It was slowly pushed up further while the skin on the base thickened around it. His growing arms grabbed onto the thick bedspread, twisting the fabric between his hands; black hairs bristled and thickened all over as his body seemed to darken.

"Imagine being bigger than my satyr," Edmund mused, "able to just as easily hold someone down and fuck them. Using your strong, monstrous and very male body to get whatever you wanted from someone by just taking it.

William's cock was slick as his body oozed out some lubricant; Edmund wasted no time in rubbing it along the long, slender shaft that was now twice the length that it had been, and completely bestial; William vaguely remembered seeing an animal with a similar penis once, but the idea angered him and he snorted through his widening nostrils. A dull throb came from his temples, and William felt something hard and strong pushing through. His lengthening ears twitched approvingly, and he seemed to calm down a little.

Edmund briefly paused his ministrations to clap authoritatively. Immediately, the satyr returned to the room. "Bring the mirror, I want our new friend here to see what a marvellous stud he is becoming," he ordered. The satyr grunted, then exited the room. Edmund returned, gently pushing William's legs apart, suggesting, "Look at yourself! You're magnificent!"

William looked down, and quickly agreed: his body was perfect. His gigantic form, although completely covered in a thicker skin and a full coating of black hair, was nevertheless obviously toned, the boundaries of the muscles very prominent. Edmund's hands wandering over them felt wonderful. His still-expanding muzzle with its thick, moist nostrils flaring and the heavy tongue opened and he bellowed out, "Mooore!"

Edmund smiled, noting, "You're almost done, my marvellous captain of the guard." A surge of energy jolted William into standing up, his heavy, elongated feet managing to stand steadily on the balls of his feet, while they turned into oversized bull hooves. He easily cradled Edmund with one arm around his waist, holding him near his crotch.

The satyr returned with the giant mirror; William eagerly moved his eyes to see his new form as best he could given the dimness of the room and the darkness of his own form. He reluctantly released Edmund, lowering him gently to the ground.

Standing in the mirror was the reflection of a giant half-man, half-bull, with the general bipedal form of the former, with the latter's powerful build and giant sexual equipment. His hooves complete, he marched forward to proudly inspect himself, flexing his muscles, turning his head to the side to admire the huge horns that burst out of his large, bovine head. His new long, dark tail, twitched just out of sight in the shadows.

William bellowed, his cock releasing a blob of lubricant in sheer lust. "Yes!" he thought, "This is exactly what I want to be!"

Suddenly he paused and panicked: what if Edmund wanted to take this away from him. Edmund, seemingly able to sense his fears, quickly patted the giant creature on the rump. "Don't worry," he soothed, "You like this new body, don't you?"

William felt himself calming down. "He's so smart and wise!" he thought. He bellowed out, no longer able to speak but the sense was there in his voice.

"Well, my new captain of the guard, you needn't worry about losing it," Edmund stated. "In fact, you needn't worry about anything, just as long as you do what I say. Worrying is what people need to do when they're thinking: you just need to act, with your powerful body and strong, healthy cock to get your prisoners and those in your command to do what you want."

William's worries dissolved, slowly stroking his long erection, happy to not have to do any thinking, and just take the orders of his master.

"In fact, with your new body and new position, we need to give you a new name too," Edmund said, eyes flashing as he took William's cock-tip into his mouth, hungrily devouring the leaking fluids from the end.

Inside his head, William heard Edmund continue, "I've been doing some research into the old monsters. There's an ancient legend of a minotaur - half-man, half-bull - and I've always wanted to have one on my forces. How would you like that name, Minotaur?"

"Yes, master!" William thought. "Thank you! That is a good name for me!"

Edmund added, "Then we need to start using it! You need to start using it when you think of yourself!"

In his new brain, William felt his identity weaken: the memories of his human life slowly faded away or twisted, depending on how well they served his new identity as the Minotaur.

Now he had been a weak, sad young guard that everyone had hated, until his beloved Master had come and gave him this wonderful new body. He was happy to serve his Master, and do whatever it was that he asked for.

Minotaur bellowed: William was gone. "Master," he asked, "what would you have me do?"

"Join me on the bed," Edmund ordered, "I want to feast on your hot juices!"

Minotaur picked up his master easily, gently placing him on the bed before carefully standing on all fours above him, manoeuvring until the end of his shaft was in easy reach of Edmund's mouth, which Edmund opened as he started to milk Minotaur's cock.

Minotaur grunted and bellowed, his heavy balls quickly churning. All that was left of his old self was left was them, and he was eager to get rid of them forever.

Feeling his master's moist lips hungrily sucking on his long shaft was strange: his new cock was sensitive over most of its length, and the sensation of the cool air contrasted sharply with the warmth wrapped around the end.

Minotaur bellowed out; he wanted the satyr - which he now knew was named Satyr, in the same fashion as he had been named - to come and prod him in the same spot as he had earlier. He knew Satyr would be happy to help both his masters in any way possible.

Edmund commanded when Satyr returned, "Your new captain wants you to place your finger in his hole."

Minotaur shivered, his thoughts simplifying. "Master thinks! Do what master says!" his mind chanted repeatedly, slowly drowning out the remaining thoughts in his head.

Satyr slipped some of his fingers into Minotaur's larger, looser hole, sliding up further to press against Minotaur's prostate. Gently massaging it, Minotaur sensed Satyr's own erection growing. He grunted happily; Master would then get more food. Gripping the bedspread, Minotaur gently rocked back and forth, exciting himself further as he trickled lubricant into Edmund's mouth.

Minotaur's muscles shook with arousal; his body was tensing up as he felt his ejaculate preparing to launch out. Satyr's musky scent wafted into his nostrils; Minotaur imagined ordering his new underling to bend over, testing out his new shaft in a way that Master could not manage. He reimagined his first sexual encounter with Master, wondering why he had been so reluctant.

Minotaur was tensed up bellowing in ecstasy. As his shaft surged with semen, he felt elated he was feeding his master, and relieving himself of his weak past for good. Edmund's face dripped with Minotaur's semen as large, hefty loads of semen raced down his long shaft like a flood bursting through a weak spot in a dam.

Minotaur bellowed repeatedly; he felt happy he had his new body, and his new position serving his master. He thought eagerly of bringing his old compatriots one by one, showing them how wonderful his master was and giving them a chance to get new bodies, just like he did.

Edmund slipped his mouth off the end of the still-drooling shaft, panting as minotaur semen splattered over his face and down his neck. "You are a good servant," he told Minotaur inside his brain. "You have fuelled me for a few days, and I think between you and Satyr I will not need to feed for another week. Satyr, finish milking him on to me. Minotaur, head out and take the lead on ensuring the humans who are here are captured. You need to keep as many of them alive as you can."

Minotaur bellowed in approval, wincing in pleasurable pain as Satyr reached through his legs, squeezing the base of his shaft and forcing out the last stubborn build-up of semen in Minotaur's system, a final pearly-white blob splattering down on to his master from his shaft before he carefully pushed himself off of the bed, avoiding hitting the prostrate Edmund below him.

As his hooves hit the cobblestones, Minotaur's head was swimming, but he had been given an order and was pleased to go and carry it out, so he ignored it and proudly marched out of the room, peeking behind to see Satyr taking his place over his Master's prone form.