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Several months had passed for Theagrim Earthmane, and tensions were rising in Ashenvale. The Night Elves had discovered their lumber mill in south-eastern Ashenvale, and despite the Warchief's legitimate claim to that area, the pointy-eared creatures took great offense at the axes felling their trees. Despite official treaties regarding the area, skirmishes were beginning to be fought on a daily basis near the Orcish camp, with no end in sight. The combat was unofficial. The uneasy cease-fire between the alliance and the Horde was stretched so thin already that neither side wanted to discuss the tension in Ashenvale, lest it lead to all-out war. Yet, Theagrim suspected, unofficial conflict could as easily lead to war. However, his personal views on the issue were irrelevant. He had been ordered by his warchief to abandon his scouting missions and instead engage in base defense, patrolling the forests around the camp with an awareness only a druid could possess. While he did not approve, he would honor his duty to Thrall.

He had been quite effective at quelling the Night Elf attacks. It seemed they underestimated his connection to nature, feeling through the trees to locate Elven ambushes and attacks. Once located, the Orcish grunts charged in, causing the Elves to flee. Perhaps they assumed the trees would refuse to aid the Horde, but even as their kin were culled, the remaining trees spoke to him. They understood Thrall's need for lumber, and the trees would not take sides in a conflict they otherwise did not understand. So when the druid called for help, the trees answered. He was proud to have been such a help to his people, single-handedly providing intelligence that saved lives and prevented major conflict. With the Elves unable to engage in their typical guerilla tactics, the stalwart Orcs could continue to chop wood in relative peace.

Now the Tauren druid spent his days just outside of camp, in a special glade spared from the axes of his allies, communing with the forest, speaking with the flora and the fauna, the ground itself, with all of Ashenvale. The trees spoke to him, and he could tell that there were no Night Elves in the forest today. Theagrim hoped they had given up, but in truth, there was one Elf, sneaking quietly through the purple trees, who had asked the trees to be silent.

Sameyila had taken an extended vacation in Ashenvale after her tremendous experience with a strange lion. He had been the most incredible mate she had ever taken, and he had filled her with a new sense of hope, among other things. But she had left him, and now wondered if it were the right decision. She knew he was merely an animal, if a special one, but since her departure, she wondered if she would be happier living as his mate. Hardly a day had gone by before she began searching for him again, unsure what she would do if she found him. She had searched for months to no avail, taking lesser mates to satisfy her growing lust. Finally, she was called back into the service of Teldrassil, her vacation well overdrawn.

Attacks on a southern Horde encampment had proven largely unsuccessful, as though they were employing some sort of magical scrying. Every attack or ambush had been thwarted with overwhelming Orc forces, allowing the beasts unhindered access to the trees of Ashenvale, murdering them in cold blood for their war machines. Could they not harvest from the trees responsibly, asking permission for branches that would be quickly regrown? Instead they ignore the trees cries for help, felling them from their mighty trunks, and leaving empty clearings behind. Sameyila was the closest druid at the time, and as such it was her responsibility to sneak into the camp, determine how the Orcs, Trolls, Tauren, or (Elune forbid) Undead were locating the Elves.

She had assumed the form of a small cat, as stealth was more important than speed or combat at the moment. Most magical scrying would completely overlook a cat, and she had crept slowly into the camp, unseen by watchful Orcish eyes. Most seemed to be ignorant grunts, incapable of such advanced magic, and so she walked quickly by. Something drew her to a small clump of trees, somehow spared from the axes of the brutes. Perhaps within lay her answer.

Inside the small glade it was a noticeable departure from the clear cutting stumps surrounding the rest of the lumber mill. The forest remained intact, squirrels leaping from tree to tree, deer flitting about. It was refreshing, but still unsettling. These animals in their glade had been cut off from the rest of the forest, and she could barely begin to fathom the implications this would have on their ecosystem. She sneaked quickly to the center of the glade, where she found her answer. A Tauren sat, meditating. Sameyila could feel him using the glade to amplify his range as the big, horned creature communed with the greater body of Ashenvale.

He could not see her, as the trees would not betray her location, but it was surely he that had been locating her sisters. She was immediately disgusted. Though the Tauren had been generally peaceful for millennia, they had always been dull brutes as far as she was concerned. She was not old enough to have fought alongside them against the Burning Legion, but she was sure they had only aided the Night Elves when it became clear the without all the help available, the demons would overtake the entire world. The large, furred creature sat cross-legged, his ungainly tail flicking absentmindedly as he searched for intruders. He obviously fashioned himself a druid, but he was only a mockery of her order. Here he sat, using the trees against their will to defend the green-skinned Orcs, who did not belong on Azeroth what-so-ever. He sat by while the monsters destroyed the forest for personal gain.

Outraged, she knew she should retreat quietly and report this information to her superiors, but her disgust at this phony druid overwhelmed her. She would call down destruction upon him, using the power of Elune to end him. Surely such a brute would stand no chance against her own powers.

Theagrim sat unsuspecting, and he never saw her coming. A beam of moonlight descended from the heavens, searing him painfully, taking him out of his trance in time to see the purple-skinned Night Elf summoning another spell. She stood at the edge of the glade, dressed in revealing green and brown cloth, her eyes glowing with surprising fury. He stood immediately, quickly summoning a green light of nature magic which quickly mended his wounds. His allies would be too distant to aid him â€" this fight was his to win. He regretted it, but clearly he must defend himself.

Sameyila had half expected her initial spell, with all the wrath of Elune, to smite the bull completely. Instead, he began using nature to heal, and then stunned the Night Elf by striking her with the same power â€" magical moonlight cut into her flesh. She was astonished â€" perhaps Malfurion Stormrage had taught these Tauren too well. She followed his lead, calling on the trees to begin mending her wounds before sending as much of nature's wrath as she could, a green bolt of light that struck her foe unerringly.

Theagrim summoned a glittering light that danced around the woman's form. It would prevent her from disappearing into the shadows, as he had been taught the Night Elves tended to do, but in the time spent casting that spell, Sameyila had time to send another torrent of damage from the heavens. Theagrim could feel himself nearing collapse â€" he didn't have much time, so he called upon the glade for healing above and beyond his normal requirements. It was not something he would be able to do again for quite some time, but glade answered his call, restoring him completely in mere seconds.

Sameyila was furious, but she kept a clear head, remembering her training. This battle was taking too long â€" the creature might soon receive backup, and with the glimmer enveloping her, it would be difficult enough to flee the encampment. She would need to flee and flee quickly, letting this...abomination escape, for now. With one outstretched hand she called upon the roots of a nearby tree, which pulled out of the ground to surround the fledgling druid. She had 10 millennia more experience, yet somehow he was competing with her. But she was satisfied to use the same trees that the Tauren had betrayed against him. She assumed they would be grateful to be allowed their revenge, however small.

Theagrim fought at the roots ensnaring him, but even his great strength could not overpower the strength of trees. He knew that the Night Elf druid he faced was planning to flee, and he wanted nothing more than to allow that, but his duty to the Horde came first, and he must try to capture her. It wouldn't be difficult â€" she was trapped in the middle of an enemy encampment, and glowing like a giant firefly. She should have never challenged him under these circumstances â€" she must have underestimated his power. The trees responded to his call as readily, even as they restrained him. Roots surrounded the surprised Elf, pinning her.

Sameyila could hardly believe it â€" the trees were helping HIM. What vile magic could coerce the trees to turn on their protector, and aid their captor? But no tree could hold a druid for long. Together, the druids decided to transform their bodies, freeing themselves from the hindering roots while assuming a form in which both druids felt more comfortable, ready to run or to battle. Together the druids assumed the form the great cat spirit had granted them. Theagrim morphed quickly into a tawny lion with a reddish mane, his horns maintaining their curved shape. The large, horned lion watched with shock as the Night Elf transformed into a panther, whose blue and purple fur immediately triggered the Tauren's memory.

He immediately recognized the panther as the cat he had spent a blissful night with several months ago. He quickly ruled out the possibility that this was another, similar looking creature, as the wide eyes on his adversary's face confirmed it â€" she recognized him as well. He was certain his face bore the same astonished expression. He had assumed the panther had been a rare breed of shadowcat, common in this region, but instead he had unknowingly cavorted with a Night Elf druid! Every day he had reflected on that night, longing to find the feline who had overwhelmed him with love and with lust, but his duty to the warchief, Thrall, came first. He had let her get away before, and he regretted it. He would not let her escape this time. Night Elf or not, he had to speak with her.

Sameyila saw the object of her dreams in past months, but under the worst circumstances. The lion who had reversed the downward spiral of her life just as she was one the verge of total apathy or worse...he was a Tauren. A druid who betrayed the source of his power. A member of the brutish Horde. It struck her suddenly that she had allowed herself to be mated by this creature. Had he known her true nature then? He had taken advantage of her; was he laughing at her even now? She laid her ears back, fighting back the urge to vomit. She had searched for so long for her magical lion lover, but now that she had found him, all she wanted to do was flee. And flee she did, bounding suddenly into the forest, her thoughts turning away from this terrifying revelation. She instead focused on her escape route â€" it would be difficult enough without allowing her urge to panic overwhelming her.

Theagrim wasted no time pursuing her, sprinting after the smaller cat, trying not to lose her among the trees. Still she glowed from his earlier spell, so as long as he kept up with her, she could not hide. He dashed after her, his chest heaving as he put all of his energy into his pursuit. He could not let her get away, but his reasons were his own. He was not even considering capturing the Night Elf anymore, or turning her over to his superiors. He needed to talk to her, he could feel it. If he left things like this...something terrible would happen. He kept pace, following the glowing panther as she bounded through the glade, running toward the river â€" a good escape route.

Sameyila gritted her teeth as she coiled her legs beneath her, her claws digging into the soft earth for extra purchase, before she kicked off, her muscles rippling as she stretched her body, all but flying through the air before tucking her legs in and repeating the process. She had never run so fast in her life, but she looked over her shoulder and could see the enemy druid in hot pursuit. She jumped against tree trunk, pushing off with her powerful hind legs, attempting to lose the lion by rapid course correction as she continued to approach the river, her surest escape from the camp. She knew no Orc could match her speed in the water, and if she flew, Troll marksmen might strike her down with their throwing axes or spears. She was certain she could outmatch the upstart druid on her tail. If he pursued her too far from the Orcish encampment, perhaps she would continue the battle she had begun. She would relish the opportunity to show him a piece of her mind.

He followed her unerringly, with less grace. What little ground he lost to her agility he made up in pure speed. She would make it to the river before he overtook her, however, but he was prepared. She wasted no time leaping into the river, falling a good 15 feet before splashing through the surface. Theagrim jumped in after her, and by the time he was drenched in the cold flowing river, she had already transformed her body, assuming the sleek form of a sea lion, indistinguishable from a real sea lion except for her long ears and lunar mark on her shoulder. Her flippers cut easily through the gentle river as she began swimming upstream. It would not be long before she left the Orcs far behind, but Theagrim would not be lost so easily. He had also met with the sea lion spirit, and he followed suit, his awkward lion paddling shifting smoothly into a quickly propelled paddling.

Sameyila was impressed to see the horned sea lion pursuing her, but she was overwhelmed by fear and annoyance. He was still gaining on her, and there was little she could do to increase her pace. Soon she could assume the form of a raven and fly away, but she would need to scale the steep river-banks before transforming â€" a bird soaked with water was no use to her. For now, all she could do was swim as fast as she could, and pray that would be enough. If he caught her, she would have to fight, and she was becoming less and less confident.

The long-eared sea lion was quickly forging upstream, and soon Theagrim knew they would be passing Satyrnaar, unfriendly to both Night Elf and Tauren alike. She would need to swim further before leaving the water, and he knew that he would catch her soon. What he would do then, he was unsure. His shimmering spell faded from the Night Elf, which would make it more difficult to follow her if she snuck into the forest. There was little time to think, as Sameyila finally reached a larger lake, skirting as fast as she could toward the other river which would lead her straight toward her allies' outpost. But Theagrim was only a few feet away, and Sameyila knew that the river was no longer an option. She cut instead toward the shore, hoping to escape by air, but it was too late. Her pursuer was upon her.

With an exhausted bark, the horned sea lion lunged forward, cutting delicately through the cold river water to grab one of Sameyila's hind fins in his teeth. Everything changed. That feeling of electricity coursed through the two druids' bodies as they finally touched, causing each of them to shiver. Sameyila slowed down, fifteen feet from the shore, closing her eyes as the sensation overwhelmed her. She had forgotten how good it really felt to touch this creature. The feeling drove her fear and disgust from her mind, and she glided gently forward from the momentum of her chase as Theagrim paddled slowly forward, swimming underneath the Night Elf. He had left her flipper go, but the more of him that touched her, the better they each felt, all other thoughts ignored. He pushed his sleek, wet body up against hers, their bellies rubbing exquisitely against each other until they were face to face.

Sameyila opened her eyes to meet his gaze as they drifted slowly toward the lakeshore. She could feel his entire body pressed against her, from their hind fins to their powerful necks, but still it wasn't enough contact. The overwhelming connection the two druids shared demanded more, and she did not hesitate to wrap her front flippers around him as he did the same, his arms circling just under hers. She hesitated as Theagrim leaned forward, his muzzle nearing hers, but she could not resist him, not now. She slowly opened her mouth as her Tauren lover neared, and he kissed her deeply, his soft tongue pushing into her mouth. The feeling was phenomenal.

The two druids went into a gentle spiral, spinning elegantly in place as they drifted toward the shore, ignoring everything but the touch. Even as they eagerly kissed, Sameyila began pushing her lower body against the horned sea lion, as if trying desperately to increase the amount of contact between their two bodies. The feel of her blubbery body pushing frantically against him aroused the young Tauren, his pink penis poking out of its sheath against her body. They began thrusting against each other, Theagrim's growing erection parting the soft fur of her belly.

Sameyila gave in to lust, finally allowed to indulge her desperate desire for this druid's dick. She had spent the last months offering herself to every passing animal, but none could match the ecstasy she felt with every inch of contact with Theagrim's body. And there was only one way left to touch him more. She bent her lower body forward, spreading her hind fins apart, never slowing her passionate kisses. Soon her delicate entrance pressed gently against the tip of his long, curved erection, and she moaned in anticipation. She was not forced to wait long â€" Theagrim could barely restrain himself as he thrust his powerful hips forward, parting her vaginal lips and entering her, and they were together. She closed her eyes, her entire body trembling from the sensation as the two druids touched each other in every way possible, their tongues entwined, their flippers wrapped fiercely around each other, and Theagrim penetrating a foot within her. He shuddered, overwhelmed to finally be coupling with the woman he had been unable to get out of his mind for months.

A tingling sensation coursed through the two lovers' bodies as they began to thrust against each other. Their intimate embrace as he probed her depths made them simultaneously feel a connection they had never felt with the many animal mates they had taken over the years. Each druid had enjoyed feeling connected to nature in a special, secret way when they copulated with beasts, but the mating itself had merely indulged their lust. When Sameyila and Theagrim conjoined, the lust pushed away all other conscious thoughts and the sensation was incredible, but there was something more as well, something deeper. It led to a satisfaction that the two druids were quickly realizing they could never attain with anyone else.

Their tongues slid across each other with supple slipperiness, as he thrust against her. She moaned, the sound muffled by their frantic kisses before dispersing through the cold water that surrounded their well-insulated bodies. It washed past them as their streamlined forms glided through the water, tugged slowly toward the shore based on the gentle pull of the tide coupled with the momentum of the abruptly-ended chase. Sameyila pushed back against him, shivering with each shove as his long, thin erection pushed and pulled against her, spreading her warm folds. She could think of nothing else, uncaring that her impromptu lover was a Tauren â€" one of the enemy! All she could think about was her narcotic addiction to the feel of his body against hers, and the deep emptiness she felt whenever he pulled back, only to be fulfilled again with each forward thrust.

They drifted obliviously onto the shore, rocks smoothed by the ages gently supporting the entwined sea lions as small waves washed over them. They lay side by side, pumping powerfully against each other, their plaintive cries no longer muffled by the vast lake. The feel of his foot-long organ penetrating her plump passageway was becoming too much for her, and she could no longer concentrate enough to keep kissing him. She wrapped her long neck around his, every inch of contact sending her closer and closer to a crushing climax, to bark plaintively into the chilly air. Her yelps were an unfamiliar sound ringing through the forest, joined shortly by Theagrim. As the two druids neared the point where their sensitive bodies could simply take no more, they could no longer control themselves, calling out repeatedly into the dusk-lit forest.

As if their bodies were one and not two, the druids pushed against each other, Theagrim penetrating her as deeply as possible with their lower bodies pressed tightly together, trembling. Simultaneously screaming, their sea lion barks sustained into a squealing song, they exploded into a single, overpowering orgasm. There was no distinction â€" he felt all her emotions as she felt all of his, as he released deep within her and she released powerfully around him. Their fluids combined inside of her, coating her internal walls and his trembling penis. He would have pulled back and thrust again, but he could not bear to break the connection he shared with the Night Elf, preferring to stay deeply embedded within her walls. He continued to fill her as though his seed were unending, and the sea lions called out until their voices were raw. But as much as he would have liked to remain there forever, inseminating her until the lake itself was white, he had his limits.

Their warm, explosive orgasm eventually began winding down, and they shared another passionate kiss, soft tongues enveloping each other in a tangled tussle, until the exhausted pair lay gently against each other, their chests heaving as they gasped for breath and tried to clear their lust-addled minds. Waves washed over the two as they lay together, contented. Theagrim could do nothing to prevent his well-spent organ from softening, finally slipping free of her sensitive entrance.

It was as if a spell had been lifted. Once his erection dwindled and parted from her sensitive flesh, everything that had happened flooded back into Sameyila's mind. She could even ignore the incredible satisfaction she felt lying next to her exhausted lover, as she once again felt revolted. She had given in to this Tauren mockery of a druid yet again, even knowing his secret! It had been as amazing as before, but she could not forgive herself for consorting with the enemy, not just of her Alliance, but also of nature itself. He was allied with the horde and directly aiding their murder of the forest, and no matter how appealing he might be, especially in the throes of copulation, she could not forgive him for that. Perhaps it truly was a spell that caused her to fall for him, to present herself to him and let him claim her as his prize. Well, she would be no Tauren's pet, and she vowed never to lift her tail to him again. She steeled herself, and then flopped over onto her four flippers, rapidly shifting her body into the first fast land animal she could think of, a ghostpaw wolf.

Theagrim barked in surprise as she turned away from him and began transforming, and he was slow to react. She was off and running into the forest before he could decide what to do, but the thought of never seeing her again, never actually talking to her, quickly decided for him. He took the form of a great worg, with black fur and large fangs that suited the unusual horns surprisingly well, before bounding after the smaller white wolf. He could not understand why she felt the need to flee from him. It was clear that he did not want to hurt her.

Sameyila sped through the forest, hoping to lose her pursuer now that the faerie-fire had evaporated, but was finding it very difficult. She looked back to see the black worg he had become, and he was at least half again her size, and gaining ground with every powerful thrust of his muscular legs. She didn't think she had the time or concentration to choose a faster form, or perhaps one that could fly, or disappear into the shadows. He would surely catch her if she tried. But she was handicapped in a different way. As she leapt through the forest, pushing herself to her limits, she could feel him between her legs. She tingled inside, the same electricity she felt whenever she contacted the Tauren. She felt of jolt of energy every time she kicked off the ground, his seed having an almost hypnotic effect within her, making her movements stiff. She was considerably slower, and with every step she became less determined that she really wanted to escape him.

Theagrim's determination grew, however, and he quickly pursued until he was within leaping range. But he was unsure what to do. Should he tackle her? How could he stop her from fleeing without the risk of harming her, scaring her, or angering her more than he already had? He was suddenly ripped from these thoughts as the distracted Night Elf suddenly shivered, the feel of his fluids sloshing around inside of her causing her to slow abruptly. Theagrim wasn't expecting that, and he barreled into the smaller ghostpaw, and, with his horned head held low, collided directly with her rump. With a loud yelp, Sameyila found herself flying through the air, head over heels. The impact had sent her into a forward flip, her hind legs swinging up and over her upper body, until she landed hard on her back, knocking the wind out of her lungs. She lay there stunned, until seconds later, the worg, unable to slow himself fast enough, tripped over her prone form and landed unceremoniously right on top of her. When he cleared his head, Theagrim found himself lying on the ghostpaw's stomach, looking down at her fluffy tail.

His first thought was of concern, and he scanned her legs and rump for damage, horrified that his horns had injured her in the collision. He was relieved to find no cuts or bruises. For her part, the stunned Night Elf could barely see anything with the black worg sitting on her face. However, once she regained her breath, the only thing she could think of was the incredible warmth covering her body as she once again contacted the Tauren. She tried to clear her head, vowing not to let lust overwhelm her mind again. She was stronger than this magic, whatever the spell he had cast on her was.

To make sure she was uninjured, Theagrim focused his energy on scanning her body for any internal injuries, casting his eyes down to her belly. He could feel, almost see, injuries this way, though all his eyes saw was her soft white fur and the rows of small pink nipples. Thanking the Earthmother that he found no spinal injuries, he scanned further down to search for any leg injuries. Her legs were splayed apart, her tail pinned underneath one, but he sensed no injuries. His eyes followed her inner thigh down to her soft, lower abdomen. Her fur here was shorter, the light pink color of her skin showing through, accented by her vulva. It protruded slightly from her body, forming a triangle in his mind with the two nearest nipples. Now that he was confident she was unharmed, familiar feelings began to spread through his body, and he could not tear his eyes away.

Overcoming the shock of the impact, and willing herself to ignore the tingling across her chest where her pursuer lay, Sameyila steeled herself to summon the strength to dislodge the larger worg. She was on her back, so the first thing to do was to turn around, but when she began to wiggle her body, hoping to dig her claws into the dirt, the Tauren druid placed his two massive forepaws on the inside of each of her thighs, pinning them down. She shivered at his touch, but would not be swayed. She twisted her upper body in order to place both her paws on the side of the massive black canine, planning to push off of him to spin around, but she was interrupted by a sudden, wet warmth enveloping her sore entrance. Try as she might to ignore him, she couldn't. The beast was slathering his tongue over her mound, spreading it apart. It was all she could do to summon the will to move her tail in the way. Her only hope was to break the contact between his tongue and her vulva, or she knew that she would submit to him again. But she soon realized her tail was pinned under her leg.

Theagrim could not resist the taste of her warm folds, his nostrils flooded with her now familiar scent. She was still filled with his seed, and he could taste himself in her, eager for more. His mind was focused on that one thing only, so he barely noticed as the small wolf began to relax underneath him, stretching onto her back with her paws curled up against her chest. His forceful licks began loosening Sameyila's sensitive entrance, spreading it apart with each thrust. He wanted to slide his entire tongue into her, but he wondered if she were not large enough. He would find out soon enough. Then his eyes widened, forced out of his blind reverie.

Sameyila had taken her own initiative, not content to lie prone while the worg ravished her. She lay back, unable to see much of anything other than the Tauren's dark rump. It was already dark out, the sun having set, and his stood over her, black fur against black sky, his tail wagging. But under his tail something stood out in stark contrast, a glistening, pink, delicious thing. She placed a paw on either side of his throbbing genitals, pulling herself up to run her tongue along its length. Theagrim shivered, her tongue circling around his cock an amazing enough sensation, without the added electricity that any contact between the two sent coursing through their bodies. But he would not be deterred from his own task.

All thoughts of escape had left Sameyila's mind as the two druids tongued each other. If it was a spell, it was too powerful for her, and in her current mindset, she decided she might as well enjoy it. She ran her tongue along his length, and up to his two suspended orbs, marveling at his size. She had seen the massive worgs before in recent years, but they were not residents of Ashenvale, so she had not seen one quite so close up. He was half again the size of your standard ghostpaw, and his erection was proving to match that ratio. As she licked him, more and more of him emerged from his sheath, and she wondered if it would ever stop. She began pushing back his sheath directly with her tongue, wanting to see the creature in his entirety.

Theagrim was loosening the smaller wolf's entrance as Sameyila relaxed under him. He could spread her enough to push a little of his tongue into her, and then a little more. It was a tight squeeze, but he began exploring her depths, his nose pressed up under her tail and his massive saber-teeth pushing firmly against her abdomen. He refused to let her own eager licks distract him. Sameyila was finding it hard to concentrate, his tongue rubbing firmly against the walls of her passageway, sending electrical shocks through her body, centered from deep within her rump. But she was also curious about Theagrim, so she did not let up, slowly revealing his entire length. She was impressed at the glistening organ hanging down between his legs, easily the size she would predict for a canine as large as this druid. She lapped at him eagerly, tasting the first signs of his excitement as her tongue caressed his tip. The only curious thing was that it seemed worgs were built differently from wolves. With all the attention she had been giving his cock, she would have expected a knot to be swelling at the base of his shaft, but she did not see it. She was disappointed, that was her favorite part about taking canine lovers.

Then her eyes widened, noticing something she had missed in the darkness â€" his sheath was not fully retracted. She quickly slid her tongue against his sheath, pushing it up until it finally pressed against his soft abdomen. She could hardly believe her eyes. His knot had been hidden, and she could only pray that it was already fully sized. He had already been half again as big as her ghostpaw lovers, as she had suspected, but that hadn't been accounting for his knot, which extended him another twenty percent, and was similarly roughly seventy percent larger than the ghostpaw. She could not tear her eyes away from the massive, pink cock. There was no way she could accommodate such a large knot, which set her fears at rest. She could easily handle him up to the knot, though it would be a tight fit, and since it was so large, she was in no danger of tying to him. She shivered, thinking about what would have happened if she had let that thing swell inside of her!

Theagrim was pleasantly surprised to find the white wolf very loose and deep. He was probing her with the entire length of his tongue, lapping eagerly into her. He could not ignore the amazing feelings she evoked with her own tongue, and he knew he was already fully erect. But he didn't want to rush the Night Elf druid. In the back of his mind, he knew he shouldn't be doing this â€" he knew he should back off of her and try to speak to her. He needed to find out why she fled. He knew she was trying to avoid mating with him. But in his current state, these thoughts barely registered. But he did register the desperate whimpers of a bitch in heat.

Sameyila whined, barely able to contain herself as the worg filled her with his tongue. She knew he was ready, and she was desperate to feel his cock inside of her. Answering her whimpers with his own, Theagrim began to walk off of her, to let her stand. She quickly curled up, onto her feet, making sure to stay in contact with the druid. She worried that if she lost contact with him, not only would the electricity she felt fade, but the spell might be broken â€" she might come to her senses and flee again, and there was nothing in the world she wanted more than to be his bitch right now. She walked abreast of him, their sides rubbing against each other before she stepped forward, rubbing her wet rump against his face. Theagrim took the hint.

He mounted her, and for the briefest moment, all physical contact between the two druids was broken. The tingling feeling they felt dissipated, and it was almost painful to the two canines, but Sameyila did not have a sudden change of heart. She wanted Theagrim as much as she ever had. And then he was on her, clinging desperately to her hips, relishing the renewed electrical spark of excitement he felt. She could barely hold his weight in her current state, her hind legs weak from exhaustion and anticipation, but she betrayed her earlier vow without a moment's hesitation: she lifted her tail to the Tauren druid, submitting eagerly to the large canine. He wasted no time plunging into the white wolf, making her his bitch with deep thrust ending with his massive knot pressed up tightly against her sensitive mound.

Sameyila yipped at the sudden, eager entrance, and the sparks it caused within her were overwhelming. They were pressed up together â€" even as he penetrated her, he was large enough that his forelegs gripped hers, his head lying gently against her neck as he grunted and panted. She could feel him hilted within her, the massive knot pressing painfully against her sore entrance, but unable to fit. Without the knot, he was still as large as the typical ghostpaw's entire length, and he fit within her quite comfortably. She squeezed against him, and began to thrust her hips, even as her mate began to do the same, eagerly thrusting with rapid, powerful thrusts. He pulled out of her a few inches before ramming himself into her, his swollen knot unable to breach her defenses. The two druids couldn't contain their canine instincts, humping quickly and without regard for anything else. Their plaintive barks, yips, and whines filled the night sky.

The feeling was as overwhelming as ever, but there was a hitch. With both canines thrusting madly, their timing was occasionally off. They would thrust apart so much, that pushing together was awkward and slow. It resulted in a stuttering, ungainly rhythm that was distracting. Eventually, Theagrim even slipped completely out of his mate, which caused a painful backlash against the two druids as their wet, sensitive genitals lost contact. Growling in frustration, Theagrim tried to resist the urge to pound his mate mercilessly, reentering her with a satisfying splurch. Slowly, they began to build up speed, matching their rhythms. This proved much more effective, though it required all their concentration to keep from thrusting at maximum speed. Sameyila whimpered as she carefully pushed back against the massive worg, reveling in the sensation of his long, hard cock slowly spreading her apart.

The two lovers strained against each other, taking pains to slow their motions lest they risk slipping free again. Sameyila looked over her shoulder, giving her black-furred mate a lustful lick on the neck, which he returned playfully. With slow, firm thrusts, he pulled the Night Elf back, spreading her wet vulva apart until he could push no more, his knot too large to enter her tight entrance. Carefully, he repeated his gentle motions, ending each push the same way. His body screamed at him to push harder, to fill her completely and tie with his willing bitch. Sameyila was whimpering at the incredible sensations, but was frustrated at the required slow pace. Her whole body trembled as she gripped the ground tightly with her claws, pushing herself back against the worg. Again and again he hilted himself within her, unable to breach this last barrier to his conquest.

Then it happened. With a slow but powerful thrust, the large black worg growled and strained against her small, lithe body, while she grunted and pushed back with all her might, desperate. As if through the power of desire itself, with a loud pop, his massive knot forced its way inside the smaller wolf, spreading her pink vulva until it lay buried within her, resulting in an impressive bulge. Sameyila barked loudly in shock and pain and lust, her eyes wide with amazement. She knew his knot was at least three-fourths bigger than the typical ghostpaw wolf she had accommodated, and it could have grown since she last saw it. She laid her ears back, closed her eyes, and let out a long, plaintive howl, echoing throughout the dark forest.

Theagrim was immediately anxious. Had he hurt her? He cursed himself for not being more careful. He could hardly imagine that in her smaller wolf-form she could handle the entirety of his swollen erection, and with his knot now embedded within her there was little, if anything, he could do. He trembled in fear, unsure just how much of the howl was pain, and how much was lust. He stopped his motions immediately until he could be more certain. But it was only a moment before he got his answer. Though she continued to howl, the slender female began pushing back against him with quick pelvic thrusts, jerking his trapped cock with almost painful sensations. Instinct took over, and now that the two druids were all-but-irrevocably joined together, he had no fear of slipping free. It was one thing to power his knot between her wet, eager lips when momentum was with them, and quite another to slip free of her tight confines once trapped within.

Having adjusted to his unbelievable size, Sameyila's lust took over, continuing to howl until she could howl no more without collapsing from oxygen deprivation. He pounded her, pushing himself into her until his penis pressured her cervical walls before pulling back until his knot tugged forcefully at her tight entrance. Her lips squeezed the base of his shaft almost painfully, while his knot caused a visible bulge between her legs. The range of motion was miniscule â€" he was far too big and filled her almost completely. Both canines gave in to their instinctual desire to hump wildly, thrusting against each other at a faster and faster pace, until the wolf and worgs' tongues were lolling out, panting desperately.

Their genitals had never been so tightly connected, and the tingling sensation they felt whenever they touched made the experience mind-blowing. Theagrim gripped the small wolf with his forepaws, pressing his belly against her back and resting his head against her neck, trying to touch her with every fiber of his being. She curled her tail between his legs until its incessant wagging was brushing up against his two large orbs, causing the dark worg to whimper. They rocked against each other, their rhythm increasing in speed until they would appear a blur to any onlookers, and they disturbed the otherwise still night-time ambience with lust-filled barks and yelps, whimpers and whines.

It could not have lasted much more than a minute considering the powerful electricity coursing through the druids' bodies, but it felt like forever. But all good things end, and they reached a sudden, satisfying conclusion. Theagrim howled and shivered, unable to hold on any longer as he began pumping the white wolf full of his similarly colored fluids. She felt the warmth exploding within her with nowhere to go, trapped within her tight vagina, and she could take it no longer, her voice joining his in exultant harmony. Triumphantly the two lovers copulated, their furred forms shuddering as he released wave after wave of semen into Sameyila, whose own fluids pushed back. She felt the pressure building within her, threatening to cause an even more impressive bulge against her abdomen â€" his knot was so tight within her that absolutely no fluid could escape. She felt a flood against the walls of her cervix, and she had no recourse but to relax her body, using all of her willpower to concentrate. She unclenched herself, and suddenly the flood gates were open. His fluids rushed directly into her womb, his cock filling her so completely that they had no other place to go.

With satisfied, exhausted grunts and whines, she stood beneath him, struggling to keep from collapsing as she let him breed her. The strong feeling of connection she felt to this druid extended to his seed, and she felt the peculiar sensation as he filled her, his black balls tensing as they sent wave after wave of ejaculate through his pulsating red erection directly into her womb. Her eyes rolled back in her head she was so overwhelmed. Theagrim grunted and continued to thrust, releasing as much as he could into his bitch, amazed at how good he felt within her clenching, squeezing walls. He did not stop until he was sure she had milked him of everything he could manage to give.

Finally they could handle no more, and she collapsed under him. As Theagrim was still rather tightly connected to her, she pulled him down right on top of her. They lay together in a heap, panting and gasping for breath, and whimpering as their oversensitive genitals strained against each other. Her tongue lolled out onto the ground in front of her as she lay, stunned, feeling his seed coating the inside of her cervical walls. She could not decide which explosive orgasm she had shared with this Tauren had been the best, but surely none of the thousands of mere beasts she had submitted to had come even close. Theagrim wondered if he could ever desire another creature, relaxing on top of her, still trapped tightly within her.

After about five minutes, Theagrim gave into his canine instinct, and stood, lifting a hind leg before turning around, back to back with his mate, still trapped quite firmly within her. Their tails curled up and over each other. He immediately regretted it as he lost many points of contact with the Night Elf, dulling the amazing sensations he still felt where their rumps pressed tightly against each other. He shivered, feeling cold, and started to turn back around to embrace her again. But Sameyila had other plans. The loss of contact was like a bucket of cold water thrown on her face, and took her out of the pleasant lust of the afterglow. She shook her mind clear, trying to remove the clouds still present from her contact with him. She felt the tingling electricity from where their hind legs pressed tightly against each other, and of course from where his slowly contracting erection lay embedded within her, and more astonishingly from where his semen lay, coating her womb. It would have been enough contact, before, to keep her his slave, but she was slowly learning to control her lust and break the strange spell he had over her.

She realized she had failed again - that the magic had been too strong. But she could barely muster the indignation to regret the incredible copulation she had shared with the huge worg. Still, she could not allow this Tauren betrayer to exert such control over her. She was a Night Elf, and above such base instincts. Quickly she summoned as much anger as she could muster under the circumstances, willing herself to break free from the backwater, glorified bull. Of course she was pinned to him by his swollen knot, but she was no fool. It was very hard to immobilize a druid.

Theagrim was about to turn and once again embrace the woman with whom he was quickly becoming smitten, when he felt his hindquarters being lifted suddenly up directly by the cock. He yipped in pain, startled, looking over his shoulder to see his mate growing quickly in size as she began changing forms, her legs growing long and changing shape, her fluffy tail retracting and sprouting thin, coarse hairs. He soon found himself almost hanging in the air by his massive knot before finally her vulva was large enough that he slipped free, collapsing face-first onto the ground. He jumped to his feet, turning, but he was only fast enough to see the newly formed horse building up a gallop and heading into the dark forest. He gave chase, amazed at her persistence.