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Marin, the village blacksmith, burped and turned to his son, shoving the empty breakfast bowl at him, noting with the hint of a command, "We need more firewood, too."

Hort added the unsaid "...and, if you can manage it, don't come back" in his own mind. Aloud, he coughed, as usual, and nodded with a subservient answer, "Yes, father." Hort hadn't even managed to do that right, it seemed: he was too afraid of dying. Not even being sickly had prepared him to face that.

Marin simply grunted at his youngest son, before turning to his oldest, and egged him into sharing more of the dirty stories he'd been telling about the woman he'd been seeing. If what Jasper said was true, Hort thought, he'd already seen all of her.

Looking at his older, healthier, stronger brother jealously out of the corner of his eye, Hort collected their breakfast plates. He'd planned to eat after they had gone to work in the smithy together, when his father wouldn't get on to him about wasting food, no matter how little Hort ate. He found his father's obsession with Jasper's interactions with women creepy, but never mentioned anything lest his father remind him that his wife - never "your mother", always "my wife" - had died trying to birth him.

Making sure to control himself, he dared to interrupt the story to ask, "Is there anything else I need to do today?" He hid any sign of wistfulness in his voice. It helped that he tried to constantly keep his boyish face grimaced in concentration to not explode into a fit of coughing.

"No," Marin grumbled, "we need a lot of wood."

Hort smiled to himself. He did most of the household chores, and would have to spend only a short time out in the wonderful tranquillity of nature. But today, only daylight would limit how long he could spend out there with his axe and wheelbarrow; cutting wood, yes, but also sitting or slowly walking through the forest, watching any animals he came across quietly.

He'd have to remember to take some healing salves with him, Hort thought to himself. Dealing with his own illness and the resulting injuries had trained him a little in the craft of healing. Hort was always confused when his father had put an end to his offers of veterinary service to the local farmers and stables; it had been their chance to be free of each other, but it was almost like his father secretly delighted in making his youngest child as miserable as possible.

His brother and father eventually got up and headed out to the smithy, the older man's hand resting against the younger's shoulder as the two laughed. Once that happened, he quickly wiped off the breakfast dishes and began to assemble the supplies he'd need for his day out. He fetched some hard bread from the cupboard and wrapped it in the clean kitchen towel. His axe and wheelbarrow were out the back door in the lean-to next to the woodpile, which he quickly evaluated as being enough for a couple of days without him collecting more. "At least," he thought, placing the axe and his packet of hard bread into the wheelbarrow, feeling the wheezing rising up his throat, "he can't complain that I don't bring back enough firewood."

The walk out to the forest was as pleasant as Hort usually got: he suffered a coughing fit, as usual, but at least nobody was around to notice. The shepherds he occasionally met along the way weren't here, and neither was anyone else going to get wood. He'd also have the woods more or less to himself: hunters would follow the stream further along; most of the animals were repulsed by the noises from the village, and most people didn't take as long as him to get firewood, so he'd usually be left alone for large spans of time.

The dirt path he'd been following trailed away at what was still considered the beginning of the forest, even though this area had been felled years ago. Hort's gangly arm muscles strained, his hands tightly gripping the handles of the wheelbarrow as he pushed it along his favoured path. It took a lot more work, and required that he rest repeatedly, but it meant he should be left alone. Heading along to where a small waterfall fell down, pouring over some rocks, Hort wheezed for a bit and sat down, closing his eyes and letting the sounds of the falling water enter his ears as he waited to recover.

The place seemed more subdued than usual: under the rumbling falling water, the chirps of water and wary scuffling of animals on the ground seemed to be absent. It was as though they were nervous about something, and had fled. Heavy invisible hands squeezed on his lungs. "Calm down," he told himself, "a predator or another person's probably just been through the area."

Hort selected a tree for felling that, as far as he could tell, had no bird's nest or other animals living in it, usually tapping with the handle of the axe to make sure. Having recovered his energy from the short trek, he swung the axe with all his strength, spending a few moments recovering his energy between wrenching the axe out of the wood and the next swing.

As a shiver scurried up his spine, Hort turned his head: he'd felt eyes upon him, watching him. His face, already flush, went bright red. Cautiously, he scanned around; not that he expected danger, he just disliked being watched as he tried to perform manual labour. Nobody appeared to be in sight; at most, he briefly thought he saw the top of something sinking under the water of the waterfall's pool, but it was only a brief glimpse and was probably just a rock or an eel or something.

Hort went back to chopping, his senses alert. Diligently, he slowly carved a slice out of the tree, until he heard the tell-tale creaking whine. Coughing in satisfaction, he watched the tree groan as gravity tore it down; smacking into the ground with a pleasant crunch. Now that the tree was down, he could take his time chopping pieces off the end; but Hort's stomach was aching and he desperately eyed the packet of hard bread he'd brought. Embedding the axe in the felled tree, Hort spluttered, using the log as support, phlegm spraying out of his mouth. Suddenly feeling very weak, he sat down; even though he was starving, he needed to recover first.

Red-faced, Hort admired the scenery as he waited for his lungs to recover. It was a very picturesque spot, well out of the village, but still relatively easy-going. Near to the waterfall, blackberry brambles sprawled out; Hort would usually pick some of the sweet, tart berries to go with what food he'd brought out. His mouth watered at the prospect. The water came directly down from the mountains, where the mining camps were situated, and so were cool and fresh. His eyes stared dully out at the lake, his lungs recovering.

That was when he noticed it: glinting in the mid-morning sunlight that came in through the gap in the treetops was a round, black thing, about the size of the top of a man's head and covered with scales. Hort felt his breath catch in his throat, his lungs threatening to betray him once again, as the round thing slid further out of the water, bulging red eyes without pupils seeming to survey him.

The creature was unlike any that Hort had seen before: from the scales, the bulging eyes, and it coming from the water, he'd have taken it to be some kind of fish, especially when the noseless, lipless, sharp-toothed face rose out, water trickling down the creatures head. An unusually large fish, to be sure, but as the creature slowly emerged, he could tell he was wrong when two rather human-like arms reached out to the muddy edge of the pool to pull its large, flat, muscular torso out of the water. Two webbed, clawed hands dug into the dirt, the water barely rippling as the creature surfaced.

Hort panicked; the creature was easily as big as his father or brother, and could overpower him. He didn't like the idea of being ripped apart by something's teeth. His whitened knuckles gripped around the axe's handle, preparing himself to muster what little energy he had to defend himself if necessary.

Although the creature was aware of his presence - it was staring right at him, Hort felt - it didn't seem to react in a hostile manner. The tip of the creature's tail curled up out of the water, swaying about as the creature settled into a crouch on the bank of the lake. Hort watched as the creature bent its tail into a loop, rubbing its rear end with the strange end of its tail.

As the creature sat, he - for what else could the huge, erect thing in between its legs, pointing out the front be, thought Hort - stretched, sunning its scaled body, sprawling on his back with its arms and legs stretched widely. Hort was amazed, he'd never seen a creature that looked so much like a human being before, at least in general body shape and size.

Still wheezing and eyeing the creature warily, Hort crept over to the wheelbarrow, axe in hand, to get his hard bread. He watched as the creature seemed to groan, watching him back and making his penis writhe about. The creature seemed quite happy to begin to fondle himself with his webbed hands as he eyed Hort.

"What a bizarre creature!" Hort summarized, the creature's nostril's flaring and mouth opening as it eagerly went about pleasuring himself. Hort turned his eyes away, picking up his food and returning to his spot on the log to eat and watch the strange thing that had pulled itself out of the lake. The hard bread was a bit too dry and crunchy, but Hort wasn't about to complain about getting any food right about now.

The creature's shaft seemed to grow larger, surprisingly so, as it fondled itself: the tip had reached half-way up its torso when it had first emerged, but now it was jutting up between its pectorals, and still growing. The creature raised his knees, looping the tip of its tail around. The creature grunted, sliding the tail into his rear.

Hort nearly dropped his food. The creature's sexual display was really bizarre; but then, Hort hadn't had much experience with sex. He never had enough energy, even when alone, to indulge in any feelings, so he'd grown to ignore them. He coughed, his throat feeling sore and dry. Hort needed water. With a sudden cold chill, he realised that he wouldn't be able to get a drink while the creature was here.

The creature didn't seem like it was going to be leaving any time soon. His penis had reached up to its face, his hands sliding over the shaft's surprisingly slick surface, which twitched and bulged in strange ways. It started to make sounds: pleasing, gurgling moans, some even sounding like words.

This worried Hort; he really needed to have something to drink, and soon, but the creature might spend minutes, or even hours, playing with its erection. Sticky, clear fluid with a surprisingly green tint dribbled out of the end; the creature used one hand to rub this over his shaft, letting it dribble down over his chest.

Hort started to feel uncomfortable as his heart pounded furiously in his chest. Watching the creature pleasuring itself had been a curiosity at first, but now it seemed almost erotic. He felt his own penis begin to thicken and grow in his leather pants, and he squirmed uncomfortably. The wheezing returned to his breathing, despite him not doing anything but sitting and looking.

The creature's head tilted, its lower face dripping with the fluid that oozed out of his shaft. His nose-flaps opened wide; a thick tongue slithered out of his mouth, licking off some of the ooze. Looking directly at Hort, it moaned in pleasure, and cried out. The voice was guttural, as though it bubbled up from the lake, but there was no mistaking the words, "Join me, if you desire."

Hort scrambled away in terror.

His already-pounding heart nearly burst out of his chest. The breath rattled audibly in his lungs, which rasped as one foot pounded clumsily after the other as Hort instinctively headed along the path for home. He stumbled and fell; crying out in pain, he let himself roll along the ground, bumping against the stones and sticks strewn on the forest floor. Then he scrambled, crawling as fast as his sore, rasping body would allow.

Somehow, in his blind panic, Hort was able to make it home; he found himself loudly wheezing, staggering across the fields, labourers watching him with bemusement as he headed straight for the smithy. "Father!" Jasper called out, his eyes catching sight of the panicked movements of his brother.

Marin turned, bellowing, "What's going on, boy?" as Hort collapsed on the ground.

Hort came to with a cup of water splashed on to his face; he got up, phlegm erupting from his throat as he struggled for breath.

"What's going on, boy?" Marin repeated.

Hort stammered, his over-extended lungs interrupting his speech even more than normal, "Th-th-th-there's a mo... a monster!"

Marin's eyes narrowed; Hort quickly looked away, catching the amused smirk on his brother's face. "Stop making up stories, boy!" Marin ordered.

Hort wanted to protest, but he lacked both the physical strength and courage to face down his father. He bowed his head, and apologised for telling the truth. "Sorry, father."

"You probably just saw a big animal," Marin explained away, half-rolling his eyes with barely-concealed contempt. "It'll be gone when you go back. And you are going back. We still need wood, boy." Hort nodded, a cup of water being pushed at him. He drank it eagerly, then quickly scrambled to his feet and left the smithy. He was still having trouble breathing, but didn't want to spend another moment under his father's disapproving glare and his brother's mocking smirk. He'd not wanted to point out he spent more time in the woods than either his father or brother, and would have recognised a big animal from a monster, but couldn't have pointed that out to either of them.

The trip back was a long struggle; his body throbbed in pain from when he'd fallen over, and his lungs were playing havoc. Oddly, the arousal he'd felt in the woods had returned as his mind began to fill again with images of the creature pleasuring itself. That, however, only made his breathing even more of a struggle as his heart continued to pound excitedly.

When he had returned, he noticed the creature was no longer there, and he collapsed in relief on the dirt, sticks and dead leaves on the ground. Hort waited for his lungs to recover, the erratic spasming of his chest gradually returning to a more regular pattern. Sitting up slowly, he quickly surveyed the area below the waterfall.

The creature's tracks seemed to lead back into the water, which made Hort panic a little, but as long as it was out of sight, he could manage. He'd have to push himself, forego his usual pleasant day in the woods, but at least he'd be able to stay at home. "I'll have to find somewhere else to go for wood," he thought, slightly dismayed at the idea of abandoning such a beautiful spot of nature, but he didn't want to risk another encounter with the creature. Hort collected up the uneaten hard bread and wrapped it up again, placing it underneath the wheelbarrow from where he could fetch it later. Then, axe once again in hand, he attacked the tree, going a bit faster than his body liked.

Suddenly, Hort's flesh goose-pimpled; he had the same sensation of being watched now that he had had earlier. He turned around, a cry of "No," on his lips as the creature appeared again. He was now standing on the edge of the lake, his jet scales glittering with fresh wetness. Hort's grip tightened on the axe handle, his knuckles almost ready to burst out of his pale skin.

Surprisingly, the creature prostrated itself. "Please, forgive me," he stated, "I did not want to distress you earlier."

Hort didn't answer for a moment. It wasn't sure what the right answer was to a weird fish-man who burst out of a cold lake one day to stroke its massively-resizable penis in front of you. The first thing to come to Hort's lips wasn't to inquire why the creature could speak, but the relatively more mundane question, "Who - what - are you?"

"I am Thrall," the creature answered, his webbed hands running along his flat, wide, muscular body. "I am on a mission for my master."

"Your master?" Hort echoed. His mind brought visions of some terrifying black-armoured knight-king riding on some terrifying black steed, swinging a fiery sword.

"Yes," Thrall continued. "He was the most beautiful, wonderful man in all of creation, but he died a long time ago. I travel to bring him justice, and channel his power to improve life."

Hort nodded, slightly confused. His erection was returning, and he felt awkward; he just wanted this Thrall to just go away. "That's very interesting," he finally answered, trying to sound as diplomatic as possible. "I would help you if I could, but I'm rather weak and sickly, and I have chores to do. My father is expecting me to bring this firewood back." Hort wondered if he'd have to explain what fire was to an aquatic creature.

Thrall seemed to stare into him for a moment with his bulging red eyes; it was hard to tell where exactly he was looking, but Hort always seemed to feel the eyes on him. "I have noticed your illness," Thrall replied. "You have had it for a long time. I can sense that it causes you a lot of problems. My master's power, it allows me to make, enhance and improve life. I could use it to remove the sickness from you."

Twisting the axe around in his hands, Hort tried to ignore his arousal; Thrall had just offered him a deal, and he was trying to keep a clear head about it. Naturally, he would love to be cured; to be able to walk around and do things without coughing constantly. But he wasn't sure whether some fish-like creature could actually do that, no matter how wonderful and lovely he talked about his dead master. His body seemed to once again betray him, conjuring up rather terrifying ideas of the creature and him, their naked bodies pressing up against each other, their penises sliding between them.

Advancing a step, Thrall opened up both scaly palms. Hort bit his lip; his breath became ragged again, and although he tried to speak, he couldn't form words. Thrall seemed to take his inaction as a sign of assent, and took a step closer, almost pleading with him, "Please, let me help you."

"I don't," Hort managed to choke out. He'd meant to say, "I don't know," but the last word caught in his throat as he coughed as a fit of coughing emerged instead. Thrall had gotten even closer; Hort felt his grip on the axe loosening. Thrall noticed this as well, and seemed to almost pounce forward, taking the potential weapon out of Hort's hands.

Thrall purred gutturally, his scaly hands throwing the weapon aside. He picked up Hort's stick-thin body easily, and after a few moments where he seemed to scan his eyes around, lay the young man down behind the tree he had felled. His claws then went to work on Hort's shirt, poking through the fabric gently so as not to cut Hort's skin, but when it was safely separated he ripped it into pieces.

Hort protested, "Please, I don't have much clothes!"

"They will not fit when you are well," Thrall promised, running his hands over Hort's ghostly, exposed flesh that was even paler than the parts of him that were exposed regularly to sunlight. Leaving the scraps of fabric against Hort's back, Thrall began to tear off the young man's already-torn pants.

"This is wrong," Hort thought; he knew that he should not be doing this, certainly not with some mysterious, inhuman creature. But he didn't have the energy to protest, and his resolve was slowly eroding as well, he leaned back, surprised to note that he enjoyed having his clothes torn off of him.

With a loud rip, Hort's pants were shredded around the front; his penis spilled out into the open. Compared to the creature's it seemed incredibly small and meager, but as his heart raced it had become nearly purple with its rigidity.

Seemingly satisfied with the state of Hort's undress, Thrall nestled in next to him. Surprisingly, the creature felt incredibly warm; Hort had always thought of fish as being very cold, but Thrall's scales seemed to somehow produce their own heat. One taloned, muscular arm slid underneath Hort's neck; Thrall's other hand ran up and down over Hort's body. His strange penis began to grow erect, the flexible shaft becoming larger and thicker very quickly.

Hort moaned, his hips bucking involuntarily. He'd never been touched in such a sensual way before, especially by someone else; even though the hands doing it arguably belonged to a monster, it still felt pleasant. Thrall's strong arm behind his neck felt comfortable to rest upon too, despite the scales - or possibly because of them, as the inner heat they produced was very soothing - and his other hand seemed quite keen and adept at finding the sensitive spots on his torso. Hort barely realised the creature's tail had begun to slide over his legs until the tip had begun to cradle his testicles.

"Oh!" Hort exclaimed; feeling his face blushing, he began, "I feel - "

"It doesn't hurt, does it?" Thrall asked. To Hort's ears, though, it wasn't really a question; more of a coaxing to allow the creature to continue.

"No," Hort admitted, "I - is it weird to say I feel I should be doing something as well?"

As if in response, Thrall's penis extended incredibly, sliding past Hort's and tickling the tip before nestling down between the two pale patches where Hort's pectoral muscles lay flat and withered. "My seed will help heal you," Thrall said.

Feeling uncertain, Hort reached up his shaking hands and touched Thrall's cock. It was smooth, and felt meaty and thick in his hands. "Everything that mine is not," Hort thought sadly. Wrapping his hands around the tip, where it tapered to a point, he began to stroke it gently, aping the manner that Thrall had done earlier.

"Good!" approved Thrall, and Hort felt his heart race a little at the approval. He found it slightly hard to concentrate on what he was doing; being pleasured by the creature was a distraction that felt amazing. Deep in his mind, he knew he should feel shame or something, but the negativity seemed to drip away, almost in time with the beading of the translucent, slightly glowing green-tinted fluid from Thrall's shaft that splattered down on his smooth, hairless chest.

"You're dripping on me," Hort noted nervously.

Thrall nodded, his nose-flaps releasing a burst of hot air against Hort's side. "That means you are doing a good job," the creature explained. "My penis is excited at your touch, and tells of sweet pleasures to come." In response, the end of Thrall's tail wrapped around the human's hard, throbbing shaft, gripping onto it tightly and matching Hort's strokes.

Hort moaned; he felt his body run hot as he heard his heart pound like it had never done before. Closing his eyes, he continued to run his hands along Thrall's shaft, gripping the heavy flesh in his hands. More of the clear, greenish, sticky fluid poured out of him, almost burning into his body. Hort breathed in heavily; the stuff smelled like spring: fresh grass, mostly, with hints of all sorts of flowers. A small puddle of it spread over his torso, the warm fluid tingling his skin.

"Should mine be doing this, too?" he wondered, as Thrall's surprisingly-grippy tail-tip engulfed the length of Hort's erection. He didn't want to ask - he didn't want to draw attention to the fact his penis seemed less excited than Thrall's - and hoped that it was simply something that his inhuman body did.

He moved his hands further down the shaft; this made Thrall's cock tremble, and a large dollop of the fluid poured out, rapidly expanding the puddle on Hort's chest. Hort had to use both hands: Thrall either had a penis that became almost as thick as a horse's, or - and Hort got the impression that this was actually the case - he was able to control its shape, and enjoyed the feeling of a hefty organ jutting out of him.

Thrall's hand spread the fluid he was producing over Hort's body; the creature's penis was producing a steady, slow stream of it, and some threatened to spill over the sides of the human's frail form. A long tongue cascaded out of his mouth, the dark muscle dipping into the fluid, tasting it as it toyed with Hort's nipples, which had hardened with arousal under Thrall's ministrations.

Hort tried to return the pleasure that Thrall was giving him. He panted and made small noises of pleasure as his hands slid quicker over the creature's shaft. Smearing some of the fluid that poured from the pointed tip, he covered the cock with it, extra goo flowing between his fingers as his hands tried to move along Thrall's arm-long erection.

This seemed to please the creature; Thrall's throat bubbled away, and Hort felt the cock quivering and straining under his accelerated milking. Thrall moved his own hand down, the lubricated, webbed fingers taking the place of the suction-cup-tipped tail in the space around Hort's dick, and Thrall began to rapidly stroke the man's penis. The tail, now unused, slid between Hort's legs, guiding them apart.

Something built up inside Hort, intensifying as his dick was coated with the sticky fluid from Thrall's cock. He'd never felt this way before; his whole body seemed to tense up, threatening to pull him out of the pleasant state where Thrall had taken him. It seemed to make his whole body electrified, every sensation echoing through more and more of his body as sensations, pleasant and unpleasant, seemed to merge together.

Suddenly, he yelped; Hort felt the fluid that had been gathering somewhere in him squirt out, sending creamy strands shooting through the air, landing heavily on his body and on Thrall's dark-scaled hand. What felt like a life's worth of his seed erupted out of him. The first shot was the thickest, almost hitting Hort in the face; the subsequent ones not managing to go as far, sending more dripping off of the tip of his cock.

Thrall seemed to grunt in approval; his hips began to thrust into Hort's weakened grip. Feeling his concentration floating away, he quickly slid his hands up and down the creature's majestic shaft. Hort wanted Thrall to know how wonderful he felt, by making him feel the same way if he could. The creature's practised hand somehow managed to press down and twist eking out the last bits of jism from Hort's body.

Hort, his body feeling utterly drained of energy, soldiered on: his hands almost flew along Thrall's shaft. The slab of flesh was completely lubricated by the fluid, which also covered most of Hort's chest. Even though his head was pounding with the need for sleep, Hort wanted to feel that same moment in Hort's heavy cock.

Sensing Hort had gotten close to his limit, Thrall seemed to accede to the human's wishes. With a throat-rattling hiss, the fluid pouring from his cock became opaque, spraying over Hort's face, the human closing his eyes just in time. Under the coating of monster ejaculate, he felt his face twist into a smile.

The heavy fluid washed over him; covering his face almost completely. Opening his mouth, Hort gasped for air, some of the cum splashing and dripping into the opening. The creature's cock pumped and writhed, resting against his chest as Hort let it drop, his arms falling to his side. The last dregs of his energy had been expended, and unconsciousness closed around him.

As he slept, Hort dreamed: it was unusually vivid and amazingly detailed. A handsome, sad man was standing by a lake; Thrall had curled up by his feet, sucking on his huge erection. Hort felt his dream-self walking towards the man. He felt hit by a wave of guilt, like a ripple of an explosion, and he fell to his knees, yet was somehow drawn to the attractive, muscular stranger. The man seemed to become aroused at this, one hand idly petting Thrall's head. Hort felt his mouth dropping open. Suddenly, the man's penis was in his mouth, and Hort sucked on it hungrily, like a calf at its mother's teat. Doing it seemed to energise him; Hort felt himself growing, his own erection extending outwards, as the man accepted another thrall.

Starting awake, Hort felt slightly cheated. He'd wanted to have heard the last faint whispers that the strange man's unspoken voice had echoed in his head. His body ached; it had not liked lying there on rocks and twigs that hadn't really been apparent before when Thrall and he had been touching each other's penises. Hort blushed; his body was still a sticky mess of the fluids they had produced, though they had dried, almost forming a second skin. He'd certainly have to wash before he went home.

Suddenly, his heart raced. "The wood!" he realised, the horrific chill of the important forgotten being remembered all-too-late. Hort became acutely aware that it was very late in the afternoon; he'd not even chopped down the log, and would have to wash up and do something to explain his ripped clothing. He'd be late, no matter what happened, and his father would be justifiably annoyed that dinner was going to turn up late.

Glancing around, he spotted Thrall's dark form swimming around in the water, barely visible as he swum under the turbulent surface. His mind wandered briefly back to more pleasant memories, and he started to feel aroused as his mind made him relive the memories of earlier in the day. Walking down to the water's edge, he tried to get Thrall's attention, but the creature probably could neither see nor hear him. Forgetting he should be worried about the cold water's effect on his lungs, he wandered into the water, bobbing awkwardly - he'd never learned to swim - as he moved closer to the dark-bodied Thrall.

Thrall suddenly shot out of the water, coating Hort in clear droplets before he dove in. Resurfacing shortly after, the creature rasped, "You've awoken."

"Yes," Hort explained, limbs moving through the water.

Before he could make his excuses, Thrall inquired, "How are you enjoying your new strength and vitality?"

Hort, not used to being in the water, thrashed about until Thrall took a hold of him under one arm to support him. Despite the coolness of the water, Hort's memory of the physical contact was making him hard. "I don't understand," he explained.

"Your lungs and muscles are healthier," Thrall explained, "and your scrapes and bruises have healed. Did you not notice?"

Blinking water from his face, Hort answered, "No, sorry." Thinking back, however, it had seemed like he hadn't been coughing in a while. After the sexual contact the two had had, he should have been a wreck, too weak to continue. But that hadn't happened. He'd ended up with a few small wounds from when he'd scrabbled away in a panic earlier, and in the water they should have stung; but he felt nothing except the chill. Even the cold water around him didn't seem to have any negative effects, above those that would affect a normal, healthy person. Or at least what Hort surmised would be.

"Did you not look at yourself before you came in?" asked Thrall. Hort felt Thrall's tail sweep past his feet; he seemed to be using to help both of them stay afloat.

"No," replied Hort. Suddenly remembering why, he added, "Oh! I mustn't forget again: I need to chop the tree into firewood and bring it home." Thrall just seemed to stare at him for a while, not saying anything. Hort, feeling slightly guilty about running off to abandon him, elaborated, "My father is expecting me to chop up that tree and bring it home, so he can use it in his smithy. I need to go before it gets too dark."

"Your family," Thrall inquired, "they are expecting you?"

Hort nodded, saying, "Yes, I... well, they wouldn't miss me, but I need to cook dinner for them, and do some other chores for them. They'll have been working all day in the smithy, and be too tired for these things." Feeling slightly upset, he suggested, "I could come here again, tomorrow, after it gets light. Will you still be here by then?"

"Perhaps," Thrall mused. He stared back at Hort, the red unblinking eyes burning into the human's brain.

"If you like," Hort offered, "I could bring you some food?"

"I no longer need to eat," Thrall explained. "Rather, I can eat anything; but if you desire it I would be fine if you did."

Hort smiled, "I'm sorry; I don't want to leave, you understand. But I, well, there are things that I must do."

"Yes, I understand," Thrall nodded. "I have my duties from my master; and you have yours. I will not hold you from them."

"Thank you," Hort said, then pausing he asked, "Could you help me swim to the shore? I - I've never swum before."

Wordlessly, Thrall slipped below the water; Hort panicked for a moment, until he felt the creature's scaly back sliding in front of him. Thrall guided Hort's hands around his neck, then seemed to push off, allowing Hort to glide along above the surface of the water on Thrall's back. Being so close to him, especially with his erection pressing against his scales, added to the thrill.

Reaching the edge, Thrall easily crawled out of the water with Hort's added weight; admittedly, this wasn't much. Planting his feet into the dirt, Hort offered, "Before I go, I could do that thing with your penis again." For some reason, he desperately wanted Thrall to be happy with him.

"No," Thrall stated, "you need to perform your duty; it will be dark soon." Suddenly, an odd tone entered his voice - even stranger, considering the unusualness of the creature's voice to begin with - and implied, "Besides, there will be time for that later."

Hort grinned, and said, "Good." Still shivering, but finding the warm air to be good at quickly drying, he rushed up the hill towards the axe. He felt that Thrall, indeed, had not been lying. The almost flat, muscle-less twig that his body had been had changed: the legs pounding on the ground were still slender, but thickened muscles could be seen pumping him towards the felled tree. The arms that gripped the axe were thicker, letting Hort wrench the metal axe-head out of the tree with ease. The shoulders that raised the axe high were shapelier. The body that twisted, bringing the axe-head down was covered in smooth, rounded muscle.

Chopping into the tree made Hort feel elated. "I can actually do work!" he wanted to cry out, but felt embarrassed to do so in front of Thrall, even though the creature had returned to swimming. As water, and then sweat, ran down in between the meeting places of his new muscles, Hort imagined doing all of the things that he had wanted so long to do: run through the fields, hike for days through the forest after hurrying through his wood-chopping chores. His father might even ask him to work in the smithy, no longer embarrassed now that his son was healthy and... "Well, not strong," thought Hort, "but stronger."

The woodcutting took hardly any time at all: what would have been for Hort a half-day affair was completed in a couple of hours. He'd been so excited that he'd hardly registered how much work he was doing; only that he was able to do it so easily. His muscles burned with use, and every time he breathed in, and the skin had seemed to tighten around his abdomen, he'd had to hold back the tears and laughter of pure joy.

By the time he was done with the chopping, Thrall had emerged from the water, finished with whatever business the creature had been doing. Throwing his hands around him, Hort said, "Thank you for helping me! There's nothing I can do to repay your kindness to me, is there?"

"I am merely acting under the power of my master," Thrall explained, reaching his arms around Hort to reciprocate the embrace. "It is him you should thank, and it is him you owe."

"I would like to meet your master," Hort said. His member, which had softened while he'd worked, had quickly stiffened again at Thrall's embrace. He felt Thrall's member thicken and press into his skin.

"You already have," Thrall stated, "while you slept." Hort, open-mouthed, went to reply, but Thrall interjected, "You must return to your kin, before it gets dark."

"Oh, yes!" Hort realised, pausing a minute before breaking out of their embrace. "I... I may try to sneak back here, when it gets dark," he felt himself stammering. Although he was feeling slightly uncomfortable with Thrall, or his master, either knowing of or influencing his dream, he desperately clung to the happiness the monstrous creature had brought to him, and didn't want him to leave.

Thrall helped him load the chopped wood into the wheelbarrow. Hort, now a bit more used to the added energy his body possessed, now felt his attention being drawn towards Thrall. He wasn't sure if what the two of them had done had been sex - he guessed not, from the stories his brother had shared with his father - but it was close; and with additional stamina, Hort wanted more. His eyes lingered on Thrall's muscular body: he was very smooth in general - it was probably why he was a good swimmer - but he certainly seemed oddly attractive. With his strange, flexible, expanding penis and his rather dexterous tail, there seemed to be a lot of things the two of them could potentially do together.

With the wheelbarrow finally loaded, Hort dropped the axe on top of the pile, and quickly gave Thrall another hug and another promise to return as soon as he was able. Picking up the handlebars, he carefully began to guide the wheelbarrow down the path. By now, the sun was beginning to set; Hort guessed that he wasn't going to get home before it got dark, but he didn't particularly care. People would at least be out of the fields by then, so there'd be fewer people about to question him about his nakedness. He'd have to explain to his father, of course, but in addition to the added strength, Hort seemed to have gained more bravery.

Despite his added strength, Hort felt exhausted when, well after the sun had disappeared from the sky, he pushed the wheelbarrow the final few steps to behind the door. Leaving the wood where it is - it didn't feel like it was going to rain tonight - he quickly paced into the kitchen, to the glaring face of his father, and the amused, smug face of his brother.

"You're late!" Marin said, slapping a heavy belt on the wooden table of the kitchen.

"You're also naked!" Jasper chuckled.

"Quiet, boy," Marin growled threateningly. "Now is not the time for your jokes!" Turning to Hort, he demanded, "Well, speak up!"

"Sorry I'm late, father," Hort said, wanting to bury most of the truth, as absurd as it now seemed, with something a little more believable. "I met someone while chopping wood who said they could help cure me." He quickly showed off his increased muscle tone, as he continued, "I didn't expect it to act so quickly, and the process tired me out. But I thought you'd be pleased; I can be of more use to you now-"

Marin snarled, "You'd be of more use preparing our meal! Now we'll have to wait for you to prepare it, while you've been thinking of nobody but yourself! By the time we've eaten and digested, we'll probably be too exhausted to do any work tomorrow!" He punctuated each sentence with a smack of his belt. "And where the fuck are your clothes? Have you lost your senses?"

Hort suddenly felt something hot building up in his body; not a pleasant warmth, like he'd gotten while thinking of Thrall. This feeling seemed more fiery, and it seemed to want to burst out of him. Trying to contain himself, he answered, a little more curtly than he'd been expected, "They were ruined."

"By that 'monster' you were babbling about today?" Marin said, getting to his feet, holding the belt up threateningly to his youngest son's face.

Before he'd even thought of what he'd meant to say next, Hort found his lips moving, "No, by your hideous face!"

"Smack!" The belt swung through the air, cracking as it came out. Hort put his arm up, the lash stinging his flesh, but he didn't flinch. The fire burning within him was barely being held back now.

"Boy, you are going to have a sore ass when I'm done with you!" Marin bellowed.

"Only as sore as yours will be after I'm done with you!" Hort roared back, pushing his surprised father back, the belt catching on his hand as he tore it from the big man's grip. Snarling incoherently, he wavered on beating his father with his own belt, or leaving; the latter quickly won out, as his mind reminded him that he was still not as strong as his father was.

Slamming the door behind him, Hort broke off into a run; he knew exactly where he wanted to go. The night air was cool, and he'd just abandoned his whole life by leaving, but he didn't care: it wasn't much of a life, and now he could be his own man. Besides, his mind burned with lusty thoughts, of Thrall and of his master. He nearly felt a physical jolt smack into him with the sensation of them: Thrall and the man from his dream as his new father and brother. It gave him a giddy thrill, and he pushed his body to go faster.

Reacting almost instinctively, his body flew under the quickly darkening sky. Almost before he mentally registered it, he'd arrived back at the lake. "Thrall? Thrall?" he shouted out, his voice hoarse; sweat was running off of him, and his muscles burned from the efforts he'd expended to get here that he'd hardly noticed until their after-effects had crept upon him.

"You have returned," Thrall's voice said, his shadowy figure appearing from out of the lake, growing like a dark phantom as the water danced around his body.

Hort ran up to the lakeside, his hands reaching out to grip Thrall's wrists. "Your m-master," he felt himself stammering, "your duties, I want to be a part of it. I..." Before he could do finish, he found his hands release his hold on Thrall's hands, his hands moving over the end of the dark, damp penis that had slipped out, erect, from a cavity inside the creature's body. His own cock blossomed into an erection in the next couple of moments; his arousal seemed to make it expand larger, as if his need was manifesting physically.

Thrall didn't reply; the two of them simply dropped, their hands moving over each other. Thrall's tail coiled around, another appendage sliding between the two warm bodies pressing against one another in the fading light. Hort barely paid attention to the discomfort offered by the ground; all that mattered was the strangely attractive creature in his hands, and the urges that flowed through him.

He hugged Thrall tightly; he wanted to feel that huge erection growing between them. Thrall's penis didn't disappoint, separating the touching muscles - one set covered in skin, the other in scales - as it expanded, the tip sliding up quickly, passing the dimple of Hort's belly button, leaving a trail of warm, almost-living ooze between them. Hort felt his own cock twitch excitedly, the small slit opening enough to add to the fluids flowing through the outlines of his muscles.

Hort felt a slow pressure on his shoulders; Thrall guided him to his knees. Hort let himself sink down, the huge, inhuman penis slithering down the middle of his torso; his hands sliding down the creature's sides. He gripped Thrall's hips, letting the cock slide over his face. Almost unbidden, Hort opened his mouth, timing it to slide Thrall's cock into his mouth. Thrall's tail kept his own manhood excited, pulling the thickening skin around Hort's penis down, the head bulging out in a smooth, purplish, sticky bulge.

The feeling of the penis in his mouth felt strangely natural; although it felt slightly awkward. His tongue extending past his lips, he lapped against the slightly-twisting tip of the shaft, letting the fluid it leaked coat and dissolve into its rough coating. Drips of it and his saliva rolled down his chin, as Hort began to slide his head along the length. His jaw cracked, the noise rattling in his head, as he opened wider, sending the tip running along the ridged roof of his mouth. It slid against the part where the flesh softened; a pushing up on his knees let Hort slide some more into his mouth.

In response, Thrall gripped Hort's head, the claws digging into his skin; Hort, however, didn't care. The two most important part of Hort's anatomy, to him at this moment, were the cock slowly throbbing in his mouth, and the tail slowly rubbing the underside of his thickened member as Hort's body writhed, thrusting his crotch with one motion while bobbing his head with the other. His flesh felt fiery, fluids leaking over his aching, growing shaft and into his open, eager mouth.

All the worry about his family had disappeared; the moment now was all that really seemed to matter, but he felt his connection to his father and brother weakening. The bond between them had not been strong, and much of it had been brought on by necessity; the weak strands were beginning to snap under the onslaught of what felt to Hort like real affection.

His stomach tried to discourage him from letting more of Thrall's meaty shaft further into his body, but it was what Hort wanted, and it didn't take long for him to adapt to this new sensation. Hort's balls jostled, seeming to swell and stretch in his sack as he thrust into the grip of Thrall's tail. His nostrils flared wider, no air able to get into his full, dripping mouth.

Flexing the muscles in his legs to remove the painful cramping he wanted to avoid, Hort felt as though his skin was tightening. His heart thumped in his chest, his hearty lungs hungry for more air, but limited to what Hort could breathe in through his nose. Hort's trembling hands gripped tighter into Thrall's scaled hips. He hunched over, his back starting to ache from having his knees so close to Thrall's crotch.

Saliva tinged with the luminescent green rolled over Hort's torso, glistening in the light of the moon; the gently glowing fluid highlighted the thickening bulges of muscle that swelled underneath Hort's skin, thickly-lined with veins. His own cock, having increased half its length again, ached as it strained again the tight feeling Thrall's tail was giving him. However, it was becoming not enough; his shaft ached to plunge into something warm and moist. His mind started to imagine these details, as his body swelled with added muscles.

Thrall's cock was hot in his mouth; the fluid dripping out of it had gotten a thicker, muskier quantity to it. Hort still swallowed as much as he could, trying to forget about the awkward wet, smacking sounds his lips made. Not that he cared any more if anyone should have heard them; Hort just wanted them to be more appealing. Shifting his arms slightly, his over-exerted nostrils filled with his musk; it had gotten heavy, rolling up his body almost like clouds. He groaned, feeling his erection distend another inch, shooting out into the cool night air. Releasing his grip from Thrall's legs, Hort rubbed his hand along the scales lining in between the creature's legs.

Thrall hissed; Hort felt the shaft in his mouth twitch even more excitedly for a moment. Then a heavy blast of the creature's seed gushed down his burning throat, quickly filling his stomach as he swallowed as well as he could. Coaxing Thrall some more, Hort buried his face as deep as he could, after taking a quick nostril-full of air to fill his lungs.

Hort held on to the throbbing, thickening cock with his mouth for as long as he could manage; then he pulled back, his lips glowing in the dark as he gasped for air. Gripping onto the thick base of Thrall's shaft with both hands, he squeezed the rest of the creature's seed down his chest, allowing the magical effects of it to seep deeper into his flesh.

Collapsing on the ground, Hort let Thrall's seed spray on top of him as he gripped his own shaft and started milking it. He glanced down at his body for a fraction of a second; he had somehow grown taller, and the muscles Thrall had seeded him with before had sprouted round, thick and powerful, the changes even causing his genitals to thicken and expand. Then he leaned back, closing his eyes as he indulged himself.

Somehow, above the roar of the blood pounding through his body, Hort heard movement across the forest; the snap of a stepped-on twig, the murmur of hushed, approaching voices. Thrall heard it too, the spray of his seed slowing to a drip as he turned away. Hort quickly got to his feet, his hand reluctant to leave his cock, but the sense of danger heading towards them was able to penetrate beyond the near-overwhelming lust.

Although the moon wasn't full, it was quite bright, and the two approaching figures were carrying torches. "It's my - Marin and Jasper," Hort whispered to Thrall. The two men held weapons taken from the smithy. "You should hide," he warned. "They'll try to kill you."

Thrall, however, neither moved nor replied. He just seemed to stare ahead, his dark body only vaguely visible in the night, the glowing remnants of his seed making the shrunken, but still aroused, shaft the part of him that was mostly visible. Hort's fists tightened; his body ached for sexual release, and now his father and brother had interrupted him. Flexing his muscles, he stood in front of Thrall, who didn't seem to move.

The footsteps paused, the two men craning to try to make out the figure; Hort's figure had changed immensely from when he'd left after the argument in the kitchen as a slenderly-muscled man, and completely unrecognisable from the sickly rail he had been only earlier that morning. Now, he was actually more muscular than either of them: he felt the meat clinging to his frame, the weight a little jarring. He opened his mouth, trying to allay their fears and get them to leave; his own voice surprised him with its deepness as he shouted, "Father? Brother? What are you doing here?" Using the familial terms felt oddly wrong, but he didn't want them attacking him either; he was naked and unarmed.

"Hort? Is that you?" Jasper called out in disbelief. His eyes narrowed as he forced himself to peer into the darkness.

"Yes, Jasper," Hort replied testily. Stepping into the light cast by their torches, Hort hoped his face was at least recognisable; from their perspective, a tall, heavily-muscled man was walking towards them, his body and mouth dripping with glowing green goo. It felt odd to look down on them, to be the one that felt biggest; not only was he wider, he was also taller by almost a foot than both his father and brother.

Marin growled, "Get your fool ass home, boy! What do you think you're doing, running around naked in the dark like this? What is that stuff on you?"

Trying to explain, he said, "I've, uh, taken more of the stuff that cured me. It's made me bigger, stronger."

"I'll say," Jasper whistled, his eyes bulging in surprise.

Ignoring the interruption, Hort continued, "I'll be fine. Just go home." The unpleasant heat was beginning to grow inside him: he hated that the two had interrupted his time with Thrall, and his balls and cock bulged, aching for release. "I don't need you any more." He clenched his fists, to show he meant it.

"You're a lunatic!" the blacksmith explained, gesturing almost threateningly at Hort. "I'll not let it be said that I sired some madman running about naked in the woods!"

A strange, almost-tickling itch had started to spread over his skin; Hort thought it might have been from a lack of spilling his seed so close to orgasm. Narrowing his eyes at Marin, he growled, "Just like you didn't want a sickly weakling for a son?" Twigs snapped underneath his bare feet as he took a step towards his father. His head was beginning to pound. "Well, from where I stand you're the pathetic weakling; you ought to run back to your kitchen, old man, and cook dinner."

"Uh, father," Jasper, seemingly noticing Hort's arousal and the vague outline of something else standing just out of the light, tried to get Marin's attention. "I don't think he's alone."

"Don't talk back to me!" Marin threatened, jabbing the flaming torch at Hort's body. The smoky flames felt almost cool to him; Hort's head was throbbing, his body on fire. The bones seemed to crackle in their body as Hort's form continued to strengthen as the anger and hatred he felt towards his father mingled with the magic of Thrall's seed, slowly twisting his body.

"I'll, ugh, say what I want!" Hort retorted. He was having difficulty separating the burning of the lust and rage that he felt; he was imagining what his father looked like naked, the man's scarred, old but still very powerful body, showing off the big cock he'd bragged about having so many times. His hand gripped tighter, the growing nails digging into his palms. "Run home, old man; I owe you nothing."

Concerned, Jasper tapped his father on the shoulder, whispering, "There's something out there!" Hort could feel what he was seeing: the red eyes glowing in the darkness, the hint of luminescent green on Thrall's shaft bobbing like some weird spectre. Hort smelled the wet fear of his brother; his desires spread to him next, curious to know what the village women saw when they laid with Jasper.

Marin seemed almost fine with ignoring this, before Thrall advanced, his dark body separating from the rest of the shadows. Hort saw his face fall, frozen in fear for a moment; he could almost feel the two men share the same thought: "The monster!" His eyes snapped to their hands, watching the knuckles clench tightly around the swords they had brought with them.

The burning feeling flowing through Hort's body reached the tipping point, waves of heat crashing into each other. Bellowing, he ran at his father, catching him off-guard; grabbing him by his thick neck, Hort squeezed his fingers around it. "Drop it!" he ordered with a snarl. Behind him, he heard Jasper shriek as Thrall leapt upon him. Hort's skin rippled; the itching he felt came to the fore as shaggy brown hairs bristled over him as he squeezed his father's windpipe.

Frightened for the first time of his son, Marin dropped the weapon; he was not trained in its use, nor was he particularly brave when it came to contact. Hort felt a surge of power rip through him; his temples throbbed, trickles of blood running across his furry face as two thick horns burst out of his changing face.

Marin's torch spluttered on the ground, leaving him to see the swelling eyes of his son beginning to glow red as Hort's features transformed. Ears stretched out, the cartilage grooves unfolding as they turned into hairy, leaf-shaped flaps extending from the side of his head. His face pushed forward, nose and mouth stretching as his skull grew. Hort was too distracted to notice the changes: instead, he walked a few steps forward, Marin struggling and gasping in his grip as his back slammed into a tree. Hort's freed hand scratche at the wriggling hips, trying to get a hold of the leather of the blacksmith's pants, eager to wrench them off. Power flowed through Hort, enhancing his strength.

"No... no..." gasped Marin his eyes wild. Hort's ears twitched; behind him, he heard Jasper struggling against Thrall's tight grip. He snorted, his wide, thick nostrils smelling the magic seed pouring out of Thrall onto Jasper. Turning his attention back to Marin, Hort finally got a fingerhold; the leather pants flew down, dangling around the thick ankles of the blacksmith.

Excited, his cock strained upwards; his shaft had grown longer, changing into a smoother, slicker tube that poked up into the centre of his massive chest. The orbs in his scrotum hung low and full, each the size of his massive fists, the thickened skin taut and smooth, unlike the rest of his hairy body. Hort's dick leaked, the clear fluid having its own greenish tint to it. He pressed his body against Marin's. Shifting his hands around Marin's ribs, he ignored the frantic flailing of the blacksmith's arms as he struggled to stop his body being lowered, his shirt catching on the tree behind him.

Above the top of his buttocks, Hort felt a bony protuberance flicker excitedly. Mashing his muzzle into Marin's chest and ignoring the frenzied tugs on his horns and smacks to his bovine head, he shifted his big hands once again, grabbing on to Marin's buttocks, and pulling them apart. His thick fingers probed around, stretching the flesh around the hole even more. Then, aiming his dripping cock, he slowly lowered Marin on to it.

The tip of his shaft met with resistance, but Hort was persistent. The blacksmith screamed in pain as the erection that impaled his sphincter was forced deeper inside his body. Hort snorted, tilting his head back and bellowing: the fire had reached his peak, igniting his old memories and burning them away. With his past fragmenting under his desire to fuck, the rest of his mind began to wander. He blinked.

He was beside the same lake as in his dream, this one calmer than the one his body stood nearby, thrusting away into the man whose screams were slowly being replaced with pleasurable moans. In front of him stood the man, once again. Getting on to his hands and knees, he spoke, "My master!"

The man approached, his lips moving wordlessly, but his mind filling in with a story: the man, betrayed by the townsfolk he had helped, disappearing as his tower home was blown to pieces. The townsfolk, with blood on their hands, glowed red where other life surged with blue or green auras. The man, his Master, touched his head: he knew what his duty was, as the last remnants of his old human life burned out. Now, as he had a body as powerful as iron, he would be Hammer, one of the Lords of Iron. He blinked again.

Hammer grunted, letting his tail twitch excitedly. The red aura around the male in front of him was beginning to waver. He seemed to be enjoying himself now; Hammer could feel the man's small, but growing erection slapping him in the chest, the strong arms no longer fighting him, instead wrapping around his thick neck, clawing at the thick, hairy flesh of his muscular back.

The warm tightness around his cock felt fantastic; his pole was still not very deep inside, but already he could feel fluids - now imbued with his master's power - oozing out thicker, spreading their magic into the man. Hammer snorted; watching as his own transformation was mirrored in the human, only at an accelerated rate: the scars disappeared under black, bovine hairs, the wrinkles of his skin blossoming with youthful vitality before they became consumed by the spreading pelt.

With each thrust, Hammer felt his calves raise higher; standing on toes whose flesh was merging, nails fusing into dark hooves. Behind him, he felt someone grab his lengthening tail, a growing muzzle pushing in between his firm, round buttocks, a thickening tongue sliding between them. It felt good, but not as good as his cock, burying deeper into the changing man. The muzzle repeatedly pushed deeper in him, as he felt the thrusting of something even further back reverberating through the body.

His shaft pistoned in and out; Hammer thrust deeper, the male's guts twisting to accommodate his long, slender, smooth penis. The orbs resting against his abdomen swelled, the erection pointing at him squirting out the last human seed the man would produce. What would have been the climax of the sexual encounter was only the beginning, a lubricant for the life-strengthening seed that the new, growing testicles would soon quickly produce in vast quantities.

Feeling the warm fluid splatter against his hairy chest, Hammer's excitement overpowered him. Leaning his horned head back, he bellowed, hot saliva spraying out of his bullish mouth. His penis bucked, a thick load of green fluid filling the guts of the other man. Still, Hammer thrust in deeper, pounding away as the man he penetrated began to sprout his own horns, while the bull-headed creature slid his bovine tongue into his ass.

Semen gushed out of Hammer; if curiosity hadn't been growing in him, he'd have stayed speared inside the man. But there was far more pleasures to be had, so he reluctantly pulled the other male off of his shaft. Both still oozing, one with green fluid, one with white, they grinned at each other. Turning around, they saw another minotaur, this one white, with his growing tail raised up by Thrall, his thick, nail-tipped digits clawing at the ground. Hammer looked at the black minotaur, dropping on to the ground and raising his tail suggestively; the other did not pause for long, for the fiery lust was filling both of them again.