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Tollen hummed to himself, his ears picking up the steady trickle of falling piss coming from the dark behind him. His helmeted head itched uncomfortably; but at least for the moment he was stuck with a torch in one leather-clad hand and his sword in the other, so taking off his helmet for some relief wasn't going to happen until Harald was finished. Already feeling miserable being stuck on patrol at night, his mind went immediately to fleas or nits. It would be just his luck to get infested with something: he could fuck a virgin and end up with sores.

Thinking of virgins made Tollen lick his lips, his line of sight aiming across the darkened village in the direction of the whorehouse. "Ahem," he thought with a smirk, "it's not a whorehouse, it's an_inn_." The village wasn't big enough for a proper whorehouse, and there were only a couple of whores, but that still didn't stop the old busybodies and sanctimonious bastards from keeping it from being called what it was openly.

"Hurry up, Harald," Tollen growled over his shoulder; his cock was getting antsy and he didn't want to be left with his thoughts when he was thinking about whores.

"I can't make it come out any faster," Harald called out, grunting as he tried to do exactly that. "Come on," he thought to himself, willing his bladder to empty faster, even though his cock was already stinging. The one time he hadn't relieved himself before hitting the sack would naturally be the one night where getting up to piss meant getting roped into a patrol when Lorence had come down once again with a bad case of food poisoning.

Harald grinned, thinking of the stupid bastard who was probably going to spend all night on the latrine. Lorence's wife was lousy in the kitchen, but he'd not married her for those abilities. Harald knew from personal experience that she was far better in the bedroom. Harald had found that most women fell for his charms; all you needed was a pretty face, a strong body and a big fat cock and Harald had been blessed with all three. Being a guard just added to the allure: ladies loved a man in uniform. But he didn't plan on settling down with any of them just yet, and having some crazy bint offing her husband for him wasn't something he'd been counting on.

Finally, the stream had died down, and he quickly tugged up his leather pants after giving his impressive manhood a final shake. Harald tucked it away in the noticeable bulge at the front, giving a quick glance towards Tollen. His grin came back; Tollen was staring at the inn, and probably wanted to avail himself of the extra services they had available. "Poor ugly bastard," Harald thought. "No wonder most of the others are broke," he mused further, grabbing his metal blade from where he'd leaned it up against the wall of the town hall he'd been pissing on, "if you have to pay for girls to go to bed with you one way or the other."

Rejoining Tollen with a pat on the back, Harald observed, "I don't think they pay us to control whore's cunts, you know."

Tollen's eyes narrowed, glaring at his colleague, "They don't pay us to flood the town hall with piss, either." Shoving the torch at Harald, he pulled off his helmet to scratch his itching head, leading the way around the village. The scratching helped to put Tollen into a slightly better mood, though he was still annoyed. Being on patrol at night was bad enough; but having to be stuck with Harald was the worst.

The smug bastard thought he could get over any girl in the village he liked, and he was always sneaking off to make one of them squeal. Not that Tollen didn't sympathise with that, but it would have been nice to get a chance to at least talk to a girl before that bastard came sniffing around. The worst part was he tried - and succeeded - with quite a number of wives from other guys in the same barracks, and it was causing a lot of problems at home.

Gripping his sword tightly, he stared off into the night as the shadows of buildings and trees popped into colour as they walked. If he turned around now, Tollen thought, and stuck Harald through the guts, it would probably put a lot of guy's minds to rest. He could probably do it, too; Harald didn't seem great at sticking shafts in places if there wasn't a pre-existing hole.

Instead, he scanned around in the dark. Their patrol had taken them through the market square, and out towards the edge of town. Most of the buildings were quiet at this time of night: only the inn sounded lively, and that was muted. Nobody could afford to stay out too late; in a small village like this, everyone quickly knew who the troublemakers were, so patrols were just a matter of keeping an eye on them and any newcomers, and there hadn't been any of the latter since that bard had come through a few months ago.

The small local temple loomed up in the darkness, the vague outline of the stylised tree totem flickering under the torchlight atop the tall spire that contained the town bell. Most people had their own shrines to their own favoured gods or spirits of course, but in the middle of a farming community you were going to get a lot of converts to the goddess of fertility. "Especially one with tits like hers," Tollen mumbled to himself.

"What was that?" Harald asked.

"Just thinking about Grania's tits," Tollen replied.

Harald chuckled, adding, "That's why I turn up to pray for a bountiful harvest." Inside the temple was a large wooden idol of the goddess, carved out of one of the larger trees that had been in the forest. Whoever had commissioned that certainly knew how to win over followers, he mused.

They stared at the temple, shut up tight, before slowly following a route circling the outside. Most people wouldn't go in to ransack a place like that - nothing that was both valuable and easily portable was kept in temples overnight, since anyone could use them for shelter - but that's what they were paid to do, and if anything had happened that they hadn't investigated, their asses would be in hot water.

Harald waved the torch around; the priest's cottage was nearby, in a small garden of herbs and vegetables and some flowers that were grown to decorate the temple. Everything seemed fine there. The old man had gone to bed, it seemed; the door and window shutters were all closed, and no smoke rose from the chimney and no light eked out through the cracks in the wood.

Suddenly, Tollen was whispering, "Quick, bring the light!"

Tollen was busy staring at the cemetery behind the temple; placed there to allow the bodies to nourish the soil and bring new life, or at least that's what Tollen remembered. Small blackbranch trees grew up out of the ground here, generally in straight lines above where the bodies had been laid. Three, however, looked like they were missing.

Gripping his sword nervously, Tollen advanced around to the cemetery entrance, with Harald quickly coming up behind him. With the extra light, he could see that the trees weren't missing; instead, they had been dug up. "Grave robbers," he mumbled. It wasn't a crime that happened a lot; nobody in the village had anything worth stealing, particularly anything that would get buried by people, but it had appeared in the crime ledgers from time to time in ages past.

The gate had been left open by the grave robbers; the dirt showed signs of cattle heading in and out. "Must have used them to pull up the coffins," he thought, his brow furrowing uneasily at the hoof prints. Harald bumped up against him, and Tollen frowned, his foot staggering to regain his balance. Motioning for him to follow, the two guards travelled up and down the length of the cemetery. Most people were buried on their own land, so the cemetery was not particularly large - principally villagers like priests, blacksmiths, and guards who didn't own sufficient land to have their own family plot - so it did not take long. In total, three bodies had been exhumed, taken out of what was left of their coffins; judging by the size of the upturned trees, the bodies were probably nothing but bones now.

"Necromancers," Tollen mumbled, a shiver running up his spine.

Harald mumbled a silent prayer: necromancers were not something to be taken lightly. Tales had come through from travelling merchants and bards of people digging up the dead, trying to resurrect skeletons back to life to serve as eternal guards or to engage in other sorts of immoral practices. He'd not had to kill anyone himself yet, but he'd certainly seen dead bodies, and Harald had always felt very uneasy when dealing with them. "Do you think they'll come back?" he asked.

"It depends on how many... bodies they want," Tollen answered, his anxious face flickering in the torchlight. "It looks like they only had one beast with them," he said, feeling slightly confused as he examined the hoof prints around the grave site. "They may need to cart them off one at a time."

"We should rouse the others," Harald suggested, glancing about nervously. The longer they waited around here, the more likely they were going to be caught by the grave robbers if they returned. Better that they had overwhelming forces than the other side if it came to a fight.

After pausing to think, Tollen nodded slowly. "Let's go," he agreed, turning his head around in a final bid to catch sight of the perpetrators. Harald wasn't going to wait; he was already feeling jumpy, and instinctively headed back towards the gate. The barracks, with their light and living people, seemed very appealing.

The entire night seemed to have taken on an ominous presence with the revelation that graves had been robbed. Most of the crimes they had to deal with were less unsettling: usually theft and poaching. Even murder seemed less creepy than grave robbing and possible necromancy. The pommel of his sword twisted around in his hand, his fingers nervous.

"Wait up!" Tollen called out in a harsh whisper, his footsteps falling too loudly behind him.

Harald didn't seem to hear him; Tollen frowned, and quickened his pace. They should have moved slower and quieter; if the grave robbers were about, he didn't want to alert him to the fact that their actions had been discovered, and it wasn't like anyone was going to get harmed if they took a little longer. But being alone against who knows how many men was even worse than being discovered.

Passing through the village, Tollen kept his senses on high alert; his eyes darted around, appraising the shadows for their chances of danger. "Slow down," he growled as he grabbed Harald's sword arm. "We don't want to alert anyone out that we're here at the moment."

"We need to get back," Harald mumbled, following it up lamely with, "before they get away."

"He's afraid," Tollen realised, feeling a brief flash of smugness. The pretty boy was a little coward. "Maybe we should hurry back," he thought, "give the other guys a chance to see him piss himself over a bit of grave robbing." He was about to say something, when his alert eyes noticed the dull light coming out from the blacksmith's.

"Marin's awake?" he thought briefly, then discarded the idea. Smithing was a very physical profession; he couldn't see anyone doing that from dawn until dusk and then wanting to be up at night. Another thought came to him, "But if he is up, then maybe he's seen something. Or maybe it's not him." Marin could be an intolerable prick, but he wouldn't rob graves. However, a blacksmith would be a prime target for robbery, and if you were going to commit one crime...

"Hold up!" Tollen said, grabbing Harald by the hand again.

"What?" Harald asked, feeling impatient. They'd decided to head back to the barracks, the longer they took to get there, the longer... the longer they gave the necromancers time to get away.

"There's light coming out of the smithery," Tollen informed him. "The grave robbers might have gone in there."

Feeling uneasy, Harald let himself be guided to the smithery. "If they have, then I doubt Marin will keep quiet about it."

"Unless they've killed him," Tollen answered gruffly. "And if they haven't they might. We have a job to do."

Harald couldn't really argue with that; instead he gripped his sword and the torch tightly, and followed as Tollen once again took the lead.

"Put out the torch," Tollen advised. "We don't want to alert anyone there who's up to no good that we're coming."

"Should have saved my piss, then," Harald thought bleakly, dropping the torch and stamping out the fire. There was still enough light to see by, but it was a cool light that only made Harald feel even more nervous.

Following Tollen, the two guardsmen headed towards the smithery. A brief touch suggested that the smithery itself had been sealed up for the night: the wooden doors creaked, but held firm as Tollen gently pressed them. Harald remembered there was a hefty bolt on the other side that few men would be able to move; if anyone was going to come in, it would be through the house. That seemed to follow, as the light was coming from the adjacent kitchens.

The shutters on the window were less well-constructed than the walls of the smithery, and Tollen quickly looked through one of the cracks. Harald watched his eyes crane for a moment, before even under the dim light he saw the blood run out of his face.

Tollen wanted to tear his eye away from the crack in the shutters, but something - probably fear - kept him frozen.

Inside the kitchen, seated around the kitchen table in the light of a low fire, sat two gigantic, thick-muscled bodies. Although the bodies looked human in shape, they certainly weren't: one was covered in a black pelt, the other milky white, but both looked the same with their horned, bovine heads and thick, almost hoof-like hands. The white one, seated facing away from the window, had a bull's tail dangling down over the rear of the stool; a feature presumably shared by the black one.

They seemed to be staring at a pile of metal on the table with their monstrous red eyes. The white one had its hands held outwards, the metal slowly flowing, a thin tendril rising upwards. The tendril thickened, taking on a shape; the shape became apparent as the black one stood up, revealing the huge, pink bovine penis pointing up to the roof.

"What is it?" breathed Harald; Tollen felt himself being pushed slightly away as Harald joined him in peering inside. Tollen was thankful when he quickly fell silent.

The black one then grabbed at the now fully-formed smooth metallic phallus. Tollen expected its meaty hand to pass right through it, but it seemed to solidify the moment he came into contact with it. The creature that had picked it up whapped it in his hands. The white one stood up, his back muscles shifting the shadows, as he got up to join his compatriot, their bodies pressing together, heads tilting to one side as they kissed passionately.

Both Tollen and Harald pulled away, and just stared at each other with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Go back to the barracks," Tollen heard himself ordering Harald. "Get everyone up, and anyone else who'd be good in a fight, and bring them here."

"What are you going to do?" Harald asked. His heart was pounding so loudly in his chest that he was sure Tollen could have heard it.

Tollen answered, "Make sure they don't go anywhere else without someone keeping an eye on them."

"But, what if they catch you?" Harald wondered aloud.

Before he answered, Tollen looked panicked: they'd both seen how horny the creatures seemed to be, and it wasn't hard to guess what was passing through his mind. Steely resolve from some reserve entered into his expression a moment later, however, and he answered, "Our job is to keep the village safe. One of us needs to stay here."

Harald met his expression, nodding with new respect for Tollen; he didn't wait to finish nodding, his feet were already moving.

"Monsters," he thought. "Actual monsters." There had been tales of legendary monsters, but they'd been relegated to songs of heroes past and stories to frighten children into behaving well. Nobody had seen anything like what he and Tollen had just witnessed. A thought occurred to him: "Will anyone believe me?" He needed to tell them something: if they were all taken by surprise, the monsters might escape, and do who knows what.

Harald's eyes were clasped ahead, his breathing heavy as he thought about who else in the village he should rouse. The mayor, probably: not much of a fighter, but he'd need to be told. Maybe wake some of the local boys up, too, to get them to head farther out to the farmers; they'd know about bulls, and tended to be pretty strong.

Suddenly, he felt a heavy, brown hand close around his mouth, a muscular armpit squeezing his sword arm against his body tightly. Another hand reached down between his legs, cupping him by the groin and pulling him off his feet.

Once Harald had started off, Tollen had watched him, hoping he actually would go and get help. He didn't like the thought of being up against these monsters alone. He turned back to the gap in the shutters when he heard a loud crack and a heavy thump.

The table had broken under the massive weight of the white monster, his legs still dangling in the air, suspended from the tight grip of the black one, whose cock swung up and down in the air. A couple of moments later, and the two were laughing. "Are you hurt?" the black one asked, his voice clumsy as though he wasn't used to speech.

"Nah," said the white one, rolling on to his back. Small bits of wood had embedded themselves in his chest, but he pulled them out. He winced, and some blood matted the white bovine hairs on his body, but he seemed to ignore them.

"At least they can be hurt," Tollen thought.

Finished with brushing the fragments of wood from in and around his body, the white one raised his ass in the air: in this position, he looked even more bovine, but it was definitely apparent he was still some horrible mixture of bull and man. The black one eyed the white one's ass lustily, grabbing on to his cock while he pulled the white tail up with his free hand. The white one bellowed as he was penetrated by the pink shaft of the black one.

Tollen wanted to look away, but didn't dare. They were noisy, but after a brief glance, he noticed nobody had come from one of the neighbouring buildings to investigate. "Besides," he reminded himself grimly, "investigating strange noises is my job."

The black one gripped the white one's fleshy thighs in his hands, wet slapping sounds of a penis thrusting into an anus being muffled under the moans of pleasure. Both sets of balls swung, nearly in time, and the white one's cock slapped up against the firm muscles running down its chest. Tollen noticed the dirty hooves, and the small things that had been bothering him about the hoof prints in the graveyard suddenly fitted together in his mind: they wouldn't have made sense for a proper beast, but two of these bull-creatures carrying corpses in between one another would fit the print pattern.

The black head twisted in his direction, staring right at the shutters behind which Tollen prayed he was well-hidden. The intercourse seemed to be reaching its peak, the thrusts and groans coming thick and fast. "I guess if you've broken a table, you should be pretty close," he quipped to himself, the itchiness returning to his head. Despite the inside of his helmet feeling warm, a chill oozed down his spine, like a raindrop skittering down a slab of marble. A growing sense of dread and fear began to claw at him: suddenly, he wasn't sure at all that he hadn't been seen.

Tollen tried to pull his head backwards, but it wouldn't budge. Panicking, he tried to slide it, worried that it had gotten caught on something; but his helmet refused to move. He opened his hand to drop his sword, but he noticed the blade had melted, the shaft fusing with the leather of his glove. Desperate to get away, he clawed one-handedly at his helmet, but the warm metal running down his face and into his hair suggested that it was too late.

The monsters had finished their rutting, luminescent green ejaculate dripping from a white ass and the slick, bovine cock slipping back into a black sheath. Both of them were staring at him now, grinning as the metal parts of his armour embedded themselves into his body, trapping him against the wall. Still panting in their post-sexual state, the two monsters headed towards the door.

Harald struggled, but the beast that had captured him was incredibly strong; besides, it had a hold of his groin, and Harald was quite sure that it knew very well it could keep him in check. He didn't like the idea, which had come to him unbidden, that the monster may very well want to use him in the same way the black had used the white one. His sphincter tightened.

"You've got a nice package," the monster complimented him. He had been carried right around the back of the house, and into the kitchen; upon entering, Harald noticed the other two were busy holding another guard - Harald guessed it was Tollen - in their grip. He couldn't tell who it was: the helmet looked as though it was melted, covering his face so that only the wide eyes, flaring nostrils and gaping mouth were exposed. He moaned, seemingly unable to speak, and Harald was glad he'd pissed earlier.

"Another one, Hammer?" the black one asked.

"I heard him outside when I was putting the bones in the beds," the brown one, who had answered to Hammer, answered. He looked at Tollen, and asked, "What's up with his helmet?"

"Anvil saw him outside," the white one explained. "Apparently, we have the ability to warp metals."

"I saw him staring in at the window," the black one, that Harald took to be Anvil, answered. "He has the look of a Fawcett man. I melted his helmet and sword to keep him from getting away until we were done fucking."

They all spoke with very similar deep, gruff voices. If they hadn't been so distinctly coloured, it would have been difficult for Harald to tell them apart. His body was suddenly dropped, grunting as he slammed into the floor covered with bits of broken wood. Quickly he felt the metal of his helmet begin to warm, rivulets of iron running down his face. "No!" he screamed out.

"You're one's quite a pretty one," Anvil argued, ignoring Harald's screams. Iron ran into his mouth; Harald tried to spit it out, but although the metal was fluid, it was also quite strong. At first, it was like two fingers holding his mouth open, until enough had pooled into his mouth to keep his tongue from moving freely.

Tollen looked on in dismay as the metal ran into Harald's mouth, muffling his screams. He was also glad, just then, that he wasn't as attractive as Harald. It wasn't particularly charitable, but they hoped that, if it came to them raping one of them, that Harald would be the one they went for. However, when the white one, whom he'd inferred was named Tongs, rebuffed Anvil by saying, "They've both got two nice, warm holes," Tollen realised he wasn't going to be spared anything.

"We should make sure they're compliant," Hammer stated, gripping Harald by one shoulder. "After that, they'll at least remain quiet until we've finished hiding our departure." As if bidden, the pink tip slipped out of the thick sheath, each inch causing Tollen to shrink into himself a little.

The cocks of the other two beside him similarly stretched out, Anvil's still stained from his green ejaculate. The air, already very thick with musk, became even heavier as the three gigantic bull-men's bodies began to warm. Anvil and Tongs grabbed him under each armpit, dragging him over to where Harald had been turned to face Hammer, who was busy sliding his thick shaft in between the free hand that wasn't around the guard's throat.

Tollen smashed into Harald's body, each of them giving a tongueless grunt as they toppled over one another. "I've got an idea," Tongs observed, and Tollen found himself yelping as a heavy kitchen pot smacked into his back. Anvil and Hammer loomed over them, holding them down and pulling off whatever was left of their uniform that wasn't made out of metal. That which was, however, heated up, flowing over the freshly-bared flesh. The metal of the pot slid between the cracks in the wooden floor, looping around their wrists into makeshift manacles; the stretched metal of their helmets oozed down, too, plastering their heads against the floorboards.

Now trapped on the floor, their struggles were mostly down to flailing their legs; there was no need to keep those pinned down, not when large hands cupped their now-exposed genitals, and one wrong move or pushing them too far would have them end up crushed. Or worse, being the one to get the most attention when those long, bovine shafts were to be put to use.

That last threat, however, didn't seem like it was going to come to pass: the three bull-men stood about, stroking their long shafts with both hands, standing in a circle over his and Harald's bodies, pointing the tips inwards. The room seemed to tingle, like air after a lightning bolt; Tollen felt his body hairs standing on end. A vaguely sensual feeling began to stir within him: not enough to arouse him, but his nipples seemed to firm on his chest. Beside him, he heard Harald gasping and snorting; one of his nostrils sounded blocked, and it made a whistling sound. The atmosphere seemed to be having a stronger effect on him: his cock, which was - to Tollen's annoyance, despite the situation - rather large, at least for a human's, was starting to stand up.

Tollen rolled one eye over to look at Harald, who seemed to sense that and did the same.

Glancing briefly in Tollen's direction, Harald felt his face flush beneath its metallic prison. Sweat was running down his head, irritating the skin where it met the iron of the melted helmet. He didn't like this: being naked in a room full of men - or close enough - and starting to feel aroused in spite of himself. His mind, however, betrayed him, lingering on Grania's bountiful bosom, as he imagined the goddess running to his rescue, her magnificent breasts jiggling as she ran in as though time had slowed.

He wondered if the bull-men felt the same way about females as he did; there didn't seem to be any female versions of themselves, so maybe their male-on-male attraction was basic necessity. They didn't seem to be too shy about their sexual escapades, and they certainly possessed interest in his good looks. Harald looked over to the side, glad to see he wasn't the only one getting aroused even though he had been the first of he and Tollen. It wasn't as though they could really help it: the three bull-men were making the same kind of noises he himself would be making during sex. The slap of flesh against flesh, the moans and grunts of pleasure; they were all familiar, all seeming to make him think of sex. Even the smell of their strange, green-tinted seed that they seemed very eager to spill was triggering those fond memories.

Harald's thin foreskin had slid off the top of his shaft, the thick purple head throbbing in time with his pounding heart. "That one's got a nice cock," he seemed to hear one of them muttering, and Harald felt oddly grateful, the compliment seemed to eke out a little of the clear fluid that he'd make when feeling really excited, the stuff that would have stained his breeches when he was a bit younger, and less practised when it came to sex.

He felt his eyes wander over to the bull's shafts, as the glistened, the pink meat slick and ready to enter any hole. Harald had to admit to himself, "It would be nice, to stroke something like that." He quickly added, "Having something that big hanging in between your legs would certainly make the girls curious." He'd always gotten compliments on his size, especially as a young man, which had made him confident when it came to getting sex; but it seemed natural to him to want something more.

Moaning, Harald felt a small warm trickle as a bit of clear, warm fluid dripped from the tip of his shaft, rolling down the curved, slightly-ridged surface of the underside of his cock as it bobbed about. His hips twitched as a spasm passed through his body.

"What's wrong with me?" Harald wondered, sweat pouring off his exposed skin. In between his moans, he gasped for air, absorbing more of the electrified atmosphere. His body was aching to be touched, and with his hands trapped and no women around, that only left the three monsters and Tollen, if the two could reach each other. But even that - fondled by another man, or even worse, a male creature - would have been better then this continual torment.

In desperation, he glanced over at Tollen, who seemed to have succumbed to the same forces.

Tollen's eyes met Harald's, all four wide and pleading for release; though what kind of release they were after was debatable, much to his shame.

When Tollen had thought of sex earlier, it had been natural: it had been another boring patrol, and he was waiting on Harald, and had only been a way for him to pass the time pleasantly. Now, there were things he knew he needed to do: get out of his bondage, escape from the three sexually-hungry monsters, free Harald, alert the town and fight the grave-robbing monsters. But his mind couldn't think of anything else but the hard shaft in between his legs, and its need; that, followed only by thoughts of Harald and the others.

The first monster ejaculated then, disrupting Tollen's self-reflection. The white bull-man spilled his greenish seed over the exposed bodies of the two mostly-stripped guardsmen, bellowing loudly as each thick shot left the pointed tip of his bovine cock and splattered on him and Harald. Oozing over his body, the semen felt like it was soaking into his skin, sending almost-violent pulses through his muscles. Gasping for breath, he let his metal-covered head roll back.

Tongs squatted right in front of his face, the hot musk of his crotch flooded his head and his tail resting against his cum-covered torso. Seed dripped over the metal, draining down into his open nostrils and mouth. Trying to snort out the rest, Tollen closed his eyes as the green-tinged fluid threatened to enter his eyes. He felt the hot, salty tip of Tongs' long pecker slide into his mouth; he heard a muffled groan through the metal plates around his ears, and his throat quickly filled with even more seed.

Tollen felt it slide down his throat; he wondered why he wasn't choking on it, but now his throat and face was tingling. His own cock seemed to thicken, natural lubricant oozing out over him out of a desperate need to be plunged into something. His mind wandered, focusing on his cock being held in one of the bull-men's meaty hands, being slowly teased as one finger of the other hand probed his mouth.

With semen covering his eyelids, filling his mouth and dripping down his nostrils, Tollen vaguely sensed Tongs rise up, grunting as he moved. He didn't travel far, however; hooves clopped on the wooden floor, as the right hoof replaced the left on the side of his head. Another bull-man - without being able to see who it was, Tollen couldn't determine which of Hammer or Anvil it was - started grunting heavier; more noises of hooves moving over the floor, and another bovine cock tip was being placed in his mouth.

Hefty, smooth-skinned testicles rested against Tollen's throat. After a grunt, something surprisingly cold and heavy plopped down onto his chest: he quickly realised it was the metal phallus Tongs had made earlier. "I forgot I had that in there," he heard the monster standing over him chuckle.

Tollen, the metal resting against him, arched his back up; he wanted to feel the hairy beast rest down on his body, the bovine hairs scratching at his tingling skin, the air being pushed from his lungs by their massive weight. He imagined the bovine lips planting against his own, the same way Anvil and Tongs had done earlier. Closing his lips around the cock tip, Tollen started to suck, trying to tease even more seed out of the bull cock resting in his mouth. The metal shaft melted, covering his chest, forcing the monster seed deeper into his skin.

Off to his side, Harald heard sucking noises, and Anvil announcing, "I think this one's ready, I'm going to release him." Turning his head, Harald saw Tollen's metal- and semen-covered lips tightening around the tip of Anvil's shaft.

His own mouth had Tongs penis resting inside it; Harald guessed he'd been given the dregs of Tongs' seed. He wondered if he should suck the cock as well, glancing as the metal around Tollen extracted itself from the floor, the guard using his freedom to pull himself up onto his knees, allowing more of the white bull-man's shaft to enter his throat.

"If they release him, then they'll release me," Harald argued mentally, looking at the metal plate covering Tollen's chest and wondering briefly about its origin. He couldn't focus on it for long; he wanted to be free of the floor, and it was hard enough to focus on achieving that simple task. The reason for doing so shifted, between allowing him to escape, or allowing him to get on his hands and knees and let two of the monsters take him: one in the mouth, and one in the ass.

Tentatively he let his lips wrap around the shaft; Tongs' hips bucked, and suddenly Harald found his throat speared with several inches of hot, dripping bull meat, jostling testes scraping through the goo that had splattered on the firm muscles of his upper chest. It tasted salty, and sweet, and left him hungering for more. "If I'd known it was like this," Harald thought, "I would have tried this earlier." His mind wandered, thinking of the men of the village, and judging which ones he'd have liked to have enter his mouth.

"Are you done?" Hammer grunted.

"I guess," Tongs said reluctantly, pulling his dripping cock from Harald's lips. He groaned as he shifted around, avoiding knocking into Anvil as Tollen drained his cock of ejaculate. Hammer moved in to take Tongs' place in front of him. Harald struggled against his bonds, moaning open-mouthed.

"Do you want to be free?" Hammer inquired.

Unable to nod, Harald answered with a grunted "Uh-huh." The metal blob still pressed down against his tongue.

"I wonder what you'd do with your freedom, if you had it," Hammer stated. The boards beneath Harald creaked, and with a rush his body creaked upwards, small holes tearing in the floor as parts of the floorboards stuck to the remainder of the iron flowing over Harald's body.

With his new-found freedom, Harald reached out for Hammer's primed cock with one hand, the other wandering down to touch his own throbbing erection.

Cum flooded Tollen's mouth; even though it had been in Tongs' ass, Anvil's cock was the tastiest, juiciest thing he had ever placed in his mouth. His stomach, soaked with monster seed, seemed to call out for it.

Iron had dripped down, wrapping around his shaft. The metal felt pleasant against his body, keeping in the heat rolling off of his skin, sliding in in small parts to his flesh. Tollen was vaguely aware that it should have hurt, and the blood dripping over it suggested it was, but there seemed to be plenty of it: he wasn't light-headed, even though the metal was staining red and his shaft was suffused with it.

Seemingly wanting to be useful, Tongs moved behind him; he reluctantly let Anvil's cock tip fall from his mouth, allowing the seed to flow over his chin and mingling with the blood on the armour covering his body. Shifting his body weight backwards, Tollen raised his ass; expecting to be penetrated, instead he found heavy hands pushing his ass cheeks apart as a bovine muzzle pressed into his ass, its long tongue sliding along his underside. The coolness felt nice; the saliva almost sizzled off of him.

As Tollen had been wanting for some time, Tongs' hand wrapped around his shaft. Tollen moaned, moving Anvil's cock back towards his lips, a small cough causing small wisps of white smoke to wriggle out of his nostrils and mouth. His tongue stretched out - it seemed longer to him for the second he cared to concern himself with it - and wrapped around the shaft an inch from the tip, the muscular tendril guiding it into his awaiting mouth. His jaw seemed to elongate out of desire to have more of Anvil inside him.

Needing to steady himself as a strange dizziness passed over his head, Tollen gripped tightly onto Anvil's firmly-muscled buttocks. The black bull-man yelped in surprise, which slightly startled Tollen; one quick glance showed sharp, bonelike spikes had burst out of the ends of his fingers. "Strange," he thought, "that should have hurt." However, the large spike of a cock in front of him was too distracting, and watching his grip carefully, he returned to gripping Anvil's ass.

Harald had never felt so aroused: Hammer's monstrous seed was pouring thick and heavy as the bull-man bellowed out, holding on to the sides of Hammer's head, and oozed down his throat and out the side of his mouth. He stroked his own cock, which seemed to have swollen: he'd had to move his other hand down as his flesh spilled out of his grip. The tips of his fingers and thumb were having a hard time meeting each other, the shaft slick with the fluids that had run down his body and out of the swollen tip, which had slowly become pointed as he slid one hand over it, teasing himself as the other did the harder work milking the thick base of his shaft.

Body burning out of lust, Harald fed off of everything Hammer could release. Although he couldn't put as much of the shaft into his body as Tollen seemed to be able to do - the other man's face had swollen out - he couldn't imagine that he enjoyed it nearly as much as Harald did.

Out of the corner of his consciousness, Harald noticed movement; Tongs got up from behind Tollen - Harald had vaguely been aware the bull-man had been licking his compatriot's rear end, an idea that would have made him moan if his mouth wasn't full - and headed out through the door into the adjoining workshop.

Harald's eye darted to Tollen's raised ass: there was something enticing about it. The cock smacking into the back of his throat, pouring out mouthful upon mouthful of seed as his own cock swelled longer and fatter was the greatest sexual experience, but his eyes couldn't leave that round rear, well-muscled from days of walking on patrols or from weapons training. Tollen's name had, naturally, been one of the first he'd thought of when he imagined what men from the village he'd want to have inside him, but the idea of pushing his face into that ass, his tongue forcing into his hole was a physical need.

Reluctantly, he pulled the cock from his mouth; he had drained Hammer of a good proportion of his seed anyway. With more pouring out of his face he waddled over; his legs felt slow and thick, his feet having grown with spiked having grown out of the ends. "When did that happen?" he wondered, clouds of sweaty steam billowing off of his bare flesh, and around the groaning metal plates that ran around his body. They were starting to dig into him, drawing blood, but that was secondary.

He wanted to drop on to his hands and knees, but Harald couldn't tear his hands away from his cock. Instead, he arched his back uncomfortably, lowering his head down until it was in line with Tollen's ass.

Harald thrust forward, his face pressing in between the slightly-spread butt cheeks.

Something seemed to click inside Tollen: Harald had come over, he'd noticed out of the corner of his eye. He'd half-hoped that he'd try to stick that mammoth cock into his ass: it was aching for attention after Tongs had left for the workshop. When he had instead pressed his face in, his fiery tongue sliding around his asshole, however, Tollen knew why his body had ached with that need. Tingles as good as an orgasm tingled through his body as Harald's hands let his hugely thick cock go, and instead interleave with the fingers of metal around his crotch.

Tollen's own cock hadn't grown, much to his annoyance; being able to have something that big dangling beneath him would have been great. Harald's testes had grown too, his sack starting to brush up against the flesh of his crotch.

Pulling his head backwards, Tollen released Anvil's cock from between his lips. He'd gotten everything he could out of it, at least for now, but had enjoyed the salty-and-sweet taste and the musk. Running his forked tongue over his teeth, he noticed the new, sharper points poking up and down in his outstretched muzzle. His jaw had grown so much his nostrils now faced forwards. He shifted his neck - which had become longer and thicker - from side to side. It was getting stiff.

Tollen lowered his hands, stroking the flesh of Harald's fingers as they enveloped his shaft. Harald was very good: Tollen had felt his tight ring relax, and Harald's long tongue had slithered into his innards. He thrust forwards and backwards, his thick cock throbbing. His balls churned; he was getting close to orgasm. Tilting his head back, he noticed the smoke pouring out of his mouth: thick and heavy, and carrying the scent of sex. Tollen had a vague awareness that he should have been worried, but his orgasm quickly washed that all away.

Creamy fluid gushed out of his cock, now little more than a nub that stuck out of the flesh of Harald's hands which squeezed into his flesh and the metal that encased him. It dripped down onto the floor, mingling with the broken table and leftover fluids from the bull-men. He breathed out, a cloud of smoke followed flickers of flames. That felt almost as good: his body - and Harald's - were both extremely hot, and getting rid of some of that energy seemed to relieve a bit of that pent-up energy.

Tongs returned, his arms laden with metal: scraps, parts or whole tools, even blades and other things that the men who had lived here had been working on. Looking at the three bull-men, and at his own transforming body, he decided to ask, his voice raspy from the flames, "You're Marin and his sons, aren't you?"

"Not any more," Hammer mentioned; Harald couldn't hear very well, he was too busy tonguing Tollen's hole. His face was pressed deep, and he'd closed his eyes. Not that he needed to see or smell or hear well; all that mattered to him was the warm, fiery touch of Tollen's flesh pressing against his, the slightly cooler feeling of the iron and other metal pieces fusing with his flesh, and the surprisingly good taste of Tollen's asshole. It had been unusually clean.

It felt more comfortable to be in this position: his back had argued with the needs of the rest of his body, but now it felt more natural. Tollen's groin melted in his hands, the last of his human seed dripping down the fingers Harald felt were merging into Tollen's body. That wasn't the only thing: when Tollen bucked his hips, he'd expected his face to get exposed. Instead, his body had moved in time with it, as though they were one.

The thick, dripping cock slapping him in the chest distracted him from those thoughts. It ached and throbbed, completely unattended. It reached up all the way along his chest, as round and thick as one of the bull-men's arms, and as pointed at the tip as their penises. His - theirs? - had barbs around the flared end, with small nubs and a large swelling that was still trapped inside his body, where the skin of his scrotum had merged with his underside, keeping his balls close to his fiery innards.

Suddenly, he felt something heavy being placed on his back; when it started to flow over his body, he knew it was more metal. The bull-men must have been adding to their iron coating, a prospect which sent a pulse through his cock, fluid splattering audibly on the floor. "He's really pent up," he heard someone say, and then Harald heard nothing other than a loud, heavy heartbeat.

Claws dug into the remains of the wooden floor as Harald pushed his ass backwards. Someone, finally was giving him some relief: he felt strong hand wrapping around the base of his shaft, and a wide, warm mouth wrapping around the tip. As metal pooled and ran up his legs, slowly creeping up towards his exposed ass, one of the other bull-men started to push a finger inside. His buttocks twitched: they had grown larger and thicker, meaning there was little resistance in the outsized sphincter for something even the size of one of the bull-men's thick fingers.

A tendril of metal pulled off of him; Harald could almost feel through it as it reached out, eliciting a grunt as it came into contact with the smooth flesh of one of the bull-men's cocks. He quivered in excitement; it was getting very hard to think, and his body seemed to act mostly on instinct.

Harald thought, "I hope whoever that is has some more seed for me." It was his last.

He didn't have a name as yet: he was a new creature entirely. Bits and pieces of other identities floated around him, but none of them matched him: they were all four-limbed thoughts, like the others with him. Hammer and Tongs and Anvil, he was able to remember. Not that he cared: right now there was plenty of pleasure to be had, and for now that was all that mattered.

He currently had six limbs, but some of them hadn't fully formed yet. The two at the back were thick, and huge, and seemed to be the most developed. His metallic claws grated against the wood as he rose up on the balls of those feet. His tiny, new tail had wrapped around Tongs' erection, still growing as his flesh stretched into the iron casing.

The thick cock bobbing between Hammer's mouth and Anvil's strong grip was also rather close to being finished, though he wouldn't mind if it got even bigger. It was the entire length of... Horace, was it? Or Hairy? Whatever the name his lower half used to have. Looking down at his torso, he noticed he certainly wasn't going to be hairy for long: occasionally he'd feel a hair sizzle into smoke as it burnt away, those that hadn't already been destroyed by the advancing metal, which had dug into his body, drawing out the redness of his blood to stain it. They were now shaping themselves into small scales to cover his body, feeding off of the spare bits of iron and steel and copper and bronze that the bull-men had worked on before they had felt it.

Slumping forward, he moved the weight off of the middle set of limbs; they hadn't changed all that much, but that was going to change soon. Instead, he shifted his front legs down: even though they were smaller than his legs, they were nevertheless thick, and ended in deadly talons. And, what was better, they'd allow him to grope at his massive cock when his needs weren't being met by someone else. Ridges and horns were starting to grow from his face, the hard bone-like structures bursting through the gaps in the metal scales, the iron and steel embedding themselves within. His snout had reshaped, now looking definitely reptilian; his face would still need to grow, but most of the cosmetic changes seemed to be done.

His new mind was filling with images now: of a human male, beautiful and entrancing, with a strong body and a powerful cock, standing forlornly by the lake. His very essence was being infused by the spirit of the man, making him want to spread the power of life through his seed: he wanted to chuckle at that, as he didn't really need much more encouragement. The man - their Shepherd - had died long ago, murdered at the hands of those he had tried to help; more than anything, he wanted to ensure that justice was meted out on his betrayers.

As it new body filled out, smoothing out the awkward contours and making him look like one whole creature, he breathed out a shot of flame; his scales glistened, glowing red and orange and yellow as the minerals mixed with his blood and the strong fire that burned his insides. "Yesss!" he growled, his voice guttural and sibilant, his breath filled with intoxicating, arousing smoke.

Behind him, Tongs had managed to slip in three of his fingers, and was busy working on a fourth. The broken floorboards groaned under the weight of the three muscle-bound minotaurs and the huge dragon were taking their toll: the names of the ancient creatures, long-since forgotten, poured into his mind. "I am a dragon," he thought, "or at least, I will be." Becoming something, finally, excited him; from that excitement, his cock dragging two of the minotaurs along the floor as his crotch bucked forwards.

"Whoa!" Anvil called out, patting him on the flank. "Don't get too carried away!"

Hammer, his lips smacking as they left the tip of his cock, grinned, "Don't we want him to get carried away?"

"Yeah," Anvil admitted, "but I'd rather not be crushed to death!"

He heard Hammer laugh underneath him, his muzzle sliding around the narrow point of his shaft. The minotaur poked his tongue down the wide, dripping opening of his shaft, causing his rear calf muscles to quiver. Hammer had wrapped his legs around his shaft, freeing his hands to rub up against the warm scales of his outward-swelling belly. The minotaur's shaft rubbed up against the underside of his cock, his lubricant flowing down the bull-man's brown, hairy, muscle-bulging chest.

With the rest of his body swiftly changing, the last parts that still looked mostly human began to change: the feet on the ends of the middle legs widened out, the flesh stretching into a thin membrane as the muscles and bones snapped and popped - there was pain, but it was bearable - as the final parts that he needed to become a true dragon began to take shape. They didn't look much like wings yet, but there was no mistaking why he would needed those extra-strong muscles.

Clawing at the floorboards, his enlarged heart pounded in his chest: the changes to his body had distracted him, but he needed to release more of his pent-up energy. His scales were glowing, nearly-white with the anticipation. With the whole of Tongs' arm sliding in and out of his rear, the hand gripping and squeezing his dragon-sized prostate, his new fluids were surging around inside him, swiftly filling his capacity to hold it in. His own thickening tail was losing its grip on Tongs' shaft. Anvil and Hammer both hugged his massive cock, as long as both their tall bodies combined, pumping him. He was ready too; the minotaurs had shared their seed with him, feeding him as he was reborn, and he intended to more than make up for that.

The small wings, quickly growing and beating the smoky air around them. He blinked, the world shimmering about him, colours changing as his eyes first glowed yellow, before the fire in them died down, still glowing but now a blood-red. The sleeping bodies of the villagers glowed in his vision; he had vague memories of them, like green and blue stars glittering in their beds. He felt a sharp pang: he knew part of him had once been a dangerous crimson, but at least that part of him was gone, and he would have a chance to make up for that in the future.

Accepting his new purpose in life, he belched out a sheet of flame that set the roof on fire. Bellowing loudly, his twitching cock twitched one final time, before the thick, glowing shaft disgorged the last dregs of his old humanity, flushing him pure. It was joined by an overpowering wave of green seed, washing over the floor. Hammer slid across the ground, smacking into the wall. Anvil fell away, unable to hold himself up any more, but they had done their work. The dragon's shaft shook, flooding the floor with glowing seed.

Around them the building burned, but they were all distracted: with the overwhelming scent of the seed, the minotaurs fell on all floors, grazing on the fluid. Flamescale - the dragon had heard his master, Shepherd, whisper it in his head - had to spend all of his energy keeping himself from falling onto his belly, and probably breaking what remained of the floorboards.

Out of each side, his large, almost bat-like wings began to beat, his blood flowing down the thin veins that criss-crossed over the flaps of tough skin that stretched between them. Flamescale, his head dizzy, and his cock still pumping out what seemed like an unending supply of semen, stated, "We need to go, the building is on fire."

Wiping his green-tinted lips, Hammer agreed. "The plan was to hide the disappearance of our old selves with a fire and some old bones, but as for you..."

Tilting his massive head, he scanned the village. The colourful blobs of people were rushing out of the building, most of them calling out; some of them shouting for water. An icy twinge rippled through Flamescale. "Get on my back, quickly!" he pleaded.

The minotaurs waded through the seed, sending ripples of it skittering across the surface. Flamescale's cock was still leaking, but there was no time: they needed to leave now, and the building was being surrounded. There was only one way to go.

Feeling the strong bodies of Hammer, Anvil and Tongs climbing on him felt rather exciting: by himself, he would be able to support all of them and himself on his wings. His tail twitched, and he breathed in, his belly rounding out. He angled his muzzle down, the sharp, ebony fangs in his mouth pulling apart in anticipation.

Fwoosh!

A raging inferno caused the entire building to burst into a cloud of debris; the villages screamed, fleeing in terror. Instantly, Flamescale's wings extended to their full length, and rode the explosion upwards, carrying himself and his three passengers into the dark night air where they quickly disappeared from the sight of the people below.

Up so high in the sky, the winds were cold; Flamescale's cock retracted to get away from the chill, and his white scales turned into flickering red and gold, colours changing in ripples as he soared in the clouds.

"Did you all survive?" Flamescale asked, hoping his brothers-in-duty could hear him. After some moments he was able to make out three muffled yeses. His mind relaxed: he hadn't noticed how worried he'd been until he felt a giddiness roll out of him.

"Since everyone's alright, could we get back to what we were up to before we were so rudely interrupted?"