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[b][u][center]The Primal Stallion Must Prance[/center][/u][/b]

[b][u][center]Part 1[/center][/u][/b]

[b][u][center]For giver[/center][/u][/b]

[b][u][center]By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]

Bronx did his best not to feel jealous as his roommate stripped down across the hall, but it wasn’t easy. Even seeing that sculpted horse rump out of the corner of his eyes was enough to give him ideas, and it made it damn hard to keep his eyes on his phone and the ebook that was nowhere near engaging enough to silence those thoughts. He shifted back and forth on the couch, doing his best to resist the temptation to look up and get a better view.

[i]Not going to make it better, he told himself.[/i]

Didn’t matter to his dick. It was already twitching down one leg, and he shifted his posture to make it a little less obvious. It didn’t make him feel better, though, and he was all the more conscious of the sheer need that seeing that butt brought him.

“So, heading to the gym?” he called out.

“Oh, yeah,” Salish said. “Gotta keep all that muscle, you know?”

“You seemed to get it without trying…”

“Yeah, I guess, but, you know. Horse. Gotta work to keep it.”

That was what logic said, but it was hard to listen to logic when he had gone through most of his teenage years seeing those muscles pile on whether or not Salish actually went to the gym. And more to the point, he was damn sure that the stallion was getting some down there, too. He was too good-looking to not be getting at least some attention when he went out of the house, and when it was that easy for him –

Yeah, there was the jealousy, in all its stomach-churning splendor. He shifted position again, uncrossing his legs and crossing them in the other direction as he looked back down at his phone.

“You doing anything?” Salish asked.

“Might hit the market. See if anything new popped up,” he said.

“Oh, nice. If you see any fruit –”

“Heh, I know, I know.”

“Thanks, man.”

[i]Fruit. More like cake…beef-cake…[/i]

Bronx shook his head, dropping his attention back to his phone. He knew what he’d see if he looked up. After all, Salish had a pretty religious work-out schedule when he wasn’t going out to concerts or heading to class, and the horse always went in the same attire: tight green shorts, a barely-there t-shirt, and a harness that was just barely visible through the white garment. If he got too sweaty or it happened to be raining outside, he’d be completely exposed, and there were times when he didn’t seem to give a shit if he was or wasn’t.

And all that just made Bronx horny as all hell. That big horse ass, the barely-hidden bulge in the front, the flagrant display of all those muscles and all the power therein: it was like a buffet of manhood, and it was something that seemed to have come all too easily to the big horse. He loved it and hated it at the same time.

Shaking his head, he kept his eyes down as the clip-clop of the horse’s passage filled his ears, followed by the opening and closing of the front door of the apartment. It was only after the soft click of the lock followed that he dragged his eyes from his phone and spread his legs again.

“Fuck you,” he muttered at the boner in his pants. The ripped-out knees and the patchy sides meant that there was a slightly higher risk of exposure when he wore them, and this was just ridiculous. “Go down, you…ugh.”

Shaking his head, Bronx got to his feet, making his way to the front door. He paused at the worn mirror, shaking his head at how much higher it went than he did; it was meant for horses like Salish and their heights of seven-plus feet, not humans like him that were more normal-sized.

Normal. Heh. That was being generous with his looks. Long hair down his back, buzz-cut at the side, with skin so pale that he could have passed for albino with the right contact lenses. His nails were as dark as his black t-shirt, and his ears were popped out a bit with gauge studs in the lobes. A dragon tattoo ran out from under his sleeve, and if he were to take off his shirt, he knew he’d see it curling in over his chest.

Not that anyone else ever saw it. Most of the time he had no reason to take it off.

“Well, nothing’s out of place, at least.”

He ruffled the back of his hair, spreading it out over his shoulders before tossing his head back.

“Not looking bad, not looking good. Just looking like…me.”

And that was the problem, he supposed. Just looking like him meant looking like any other goth-punk-emo kid in college, and considering their neck of the woods, there were a lot of those ripe for the picking. He stepped back from the mirror and opened the door, shaking his head as he stepped through.

[i]If I was just anything bigger…[/i]

Anything bigger than a human, really. Wolves, big cats, horses…damn, but being a horse would have been awesome. Feeling all those muscles come in, knowing that he’d just keep getting bigger and bigger, having all those other size queens eating out of the palm of his hand as his dick matched the rest of him…

Damn, but that would have been fun.

Instead, he was just another human. Just another boring-ass human that got a little thrill out of piercing himself here and there, showing off some vague rejection of social norms by boing all black and goth-y, and what did it get him? Nothing. Nothing at all.

[i]Oh, stop it. You’re going to throw yourself in a spiral again if you keep this up.[/i]

Yeah, probably best to stop that before it started. Shaking his head, he locked the door behind him and turned his attention toward the market. Down the steps, down the street, and over four blocks, and he’d hit the street-market and the pop-up stalls and everything else that came by every week.

Was a pretty good distraction, really; most people were too busy looking at whatever weird stuff had come to market that week to bother looking at the people that had come down to look at it. Better way to feel good about himself when he didn’t feel others looking at him and just looking away out of boredom immediately. Checking his phone and wallet, making sure that they were both secure, he set off.

#

The market was filled with food, as per usual. The crafters were all down one end of the market, and all the food stalls were at the other, and the latter were slowly outpacing the former. Not that surprising; the craft market had never been that profitable for people in the community, and the more that prices went up, the less that people were willing to buy. Vanity items were not that popular among those that didn’t have that high an income, and considering that the market was mostly visited by college students, it meant that the crafters were slowly getting edged out.

He grabbed a couple bags of fruit, as he had promised Salish to get something, and walked with the bags hanging off one arm and his other hand in his pocket. His eyes flicked from cart to cart, stall to stall, looking for something interesting. Usually, the middle stalls had more eclectic stuff. Not things that were just made, not food to eat, but the weird shit, like occult books or the occasional ‘native’ that came by to sell traditional things, or something else that didn’t entirely fit on the other ends.

That part was slowly disappearing, too. He remembered when the old market had been divided into thirds, way back when he and Salish had first started college. Now, it was two-thirds food, one-sixth crafter, and one-sixth weird. It was a dying place, and he imagined that when the market was completely overcome with food vendors, the street market itself would slowly die off. After all, if there weren’t any weird things to get people to come by, the food itself wouldn’t be as much of a draw, and the convenience of other stores would make people go there.

He put it out of his head as he reached the weird stalls, sliding to one side of the street to take it in properly. A book store, an info-stall with pamphlets about local orgies, a couple of church groups that were looking for converts –

“Finally…”

And then an antique stall. It was covered with eclectic shit, from bones to jade to onyx. Some of it was still raw, while others were carved, painted, and looked pretty damn good for collectibles. Most of them were marked down for relatively cheap, considering that they were labeled as cursed or magical or other stuff like that, but it was still fun to look.

He chuckled at one particular item. The Jade Phallus was described as an ancient sex toy for some old emperor or other, but it just looked like a giant stone dildo. Past Salish’s size, as far as he could tell, but rather fun to look at regardless. He imagined that whatever old emperor might have owned that would have been a hell of a size queen.

Just as he was about to walk on, however, something else caught his eye. He blinked as a piece of black stone, just barely hidden behind a couple of bone pieces, glinted in the sun and pulled him closer. He gently nudged the pieces aside as the stall owner talked to someone else, carefully picking up the piece of black rock.

It wasn’t large, scarcely more than the size of the palm of his hand, probably meant to be worn around the neck or kept on one’s person without disrupting their day-to-day life. There was a little loop at the top of it that confirmed that suspicion, but it was the general shape of the totem that held his attention.

It was an equine, and an anthro one at that, standing tall and proud, though certainly thicker than any but the draft horses that he had seen around the college grounds. It almost looked like Salish if his roommate was a little bulkier across the chest and shoulders, though far more shameless.

He ran his thumb over the barely-distinct erection between the horse’s legs, shaking his head in mild disbelief. It was surprisingly accurate for what it was, stylized, but accurate. The exaggerated proportions did make it look just a trifle silly when he stared at it more, but there was something…something…

The sheen of the onyx was surprisingly captivating, and he kept staring closer and closer, not quite able to look away. His mouth opened slightly, and his head tilted to the side as he kept…staring at the black rock…staring at the faint reflections that played over it, like ghostly equines that were contained within.

Probably just a trick of the light, but still…really cool…

His attention remained wrapped up in the little totem as he turned it from side to side. Every time that he did, the light playing off the surface of the totem drew his attention to different places. The thick muscles, the prominent dick, the hard body, and the eyes…

The glittering eyes…

Bronx felt them staring back at him, almost like they were seeing something even as he stared into them. The world faded around him, the sound of the market disappearing as those deep, dark, empty eyes felt like they were pulling him in. Every passing second seemed to take longer than the last, and he was more conscious of his heartbeat than he ever remembered being. Something else…something else rumbled in his head, like a thudding of hoofbeats, running in the fields of old.

The wind in his hair.

The thudding of his heart.

The heat of the run.

The throbbing of stallion-hood.

“Ah!”

He gasped, pulled out of the moment as he stumbled. Why –

Bronx blinked again as he turned in place. He wasn’t in the market anymore. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t entirely sure where he was until he turned around again and saw a familiar restaurant on the corner. He wasn’t just not at the market, he was nearly two miles away from it. Two miles of walking without even being aware of it and –

And the totem was still in his hands.

[i]…Oh, shit…oh, shit, shit, shit…[/i]

Reaching into his other pocket, he thumbed through his wallet and his cash. Same amount as he had left the building with. Which meant that either he had paid for the little rock thing on his card, or –

[i]Or I walked away without paying…and then kept walking…[/i]

Two miles. Two miles of walking, and he was damn lucky that he hadn’t run into someone or gotten run over. How the hell…

He didn’t even remember how it had happened. All he knew was that he’d stared at the little totem for a while and all of a sudden the world had moved on. There was nothing, nothing in his memory of leaving the market and going anywhere. All he knew was that he had apparently done so.

[i]…Okay, we’re going home. Now.[/i]

And hopefully he didn’t get the cops called on him or anything else like that. If nothing happened by tomorrow, he’d take the totem back to the table and see what happened. If nothing else, he could apologize by then, say that he had put it in his bags meaning to pay for it later, and if it really came down to it, he could offer to pay for it then by saying that he’d forgotten. There were a lot of things that he could do, but he certainly wasn’t going back to the street market now.

#

The apartment felt stifling.

He’d meant to go home, eat, take a shower, then get back to reading, but no sooner had he finished his shower than he felt like he had energy to burn. He normally didn’t feel anything like that; his sleep schedule and the general lack of motivation that he felt post-classes meant that he usually kept pretty sedentary after the necessaries were done, but today? Today, he felt like he could have gone for a run for hours and not tired himself out.

He tried to ignore it at first, but the longer it went on, the more that he felt the strain and needed to do something about it. It was like being held back by an anchor, wanting to push forward, but not quite able to do it in the apartment.

[i]Wonder if this is why Salish goes to the gym so often?[/i] he thought.

As soon as the idea hit him, it was like he couldn’t let go of it. He groaned as he remembered the address of the horse’s preferred workout place, trying to tell himself that it would pass, but the itch and the energy rushing through his veins just wouldn’t be denied. After a half hour of trying to relax, the antsy feeling drove him from the apartment.

He jogged there, hoping to burn off some of the energy, but it only seemed to amp him up even further. The only concession to going there he’d made was to change out of his jeans for some cargo shorts. Not ideal, but better than the alternative. The clerk behind the desk, a human woman, arched her eyebrows as he came in.

“How can I help you, sir?”

“Need to work out,” he muttered.

“Okay…do you have a membership with us?”

“Nope.”

“Do you want –”

“Whatever it takes to get in there.”

“Okay, then, sir. Here’s the paperwork, and I will need a card –”

Bronx didn’t know what had possessed him, but he passed her a card and started filling out the paperwork at a record pace. The little totem was still right there in his pockets, and each time that he thought about it, he felt the pulsing strength in him throb that much more, pushing him to do [i]something.[/i] It was like someone had injected him with more energy than he’d had since he was a kid, and if he didn’t find some way to use it up, he felt like he was going to explode.

It didn’t take long, thankfully, and the clerk passed him a membership card and a hairband. He looked at it with a blink.

“You’ll want to keep that hair out of the machines. Trust me.”

“…Right. Thanks.”

He pulled it on as he walked through the locker rooms, moving with a purpose that he hadn’t felt since his teenage years when he’d thought he could catch up with Salish in muscles. For a very short time, he had, but the stallion’s natural body strength just meant that it was impossible for him to actually do enough to keep that going. All he could do was keep pumping iron and stay fit, and that wasn’t worth it when he was that far behind.

The smell of all the other males in the gym hit him first. It wasn’t like a thick reek or anything like that – the air conditioning kept that from being a thing – but it was more like being hit with something like…like a bunch of people-smells all at once. He rolled his head from side to side, feeling it settle in his head, and he looked around at the different species on display.

About half of those working out were other humans, but he saw rats, he saw tigers, he saw porcupines, squirrels, and even a beaver here and there. And at the far end of the room, running on a treadmill, he saw Salish.

The red stallion hadn’t seen him yet, but the sight of that beefy butt swaying back and forth in those tight green shorts did things to him. His dick twitched in his shorts, trying to push forward and up, but he managed to look away before it could do more than get half-hard. The mental image remained, however, and he knew how it looked under those shorts. He [i]knew[/i] how hot and firm that rump was.

[i]Showing off like some little mare looking for dick,[/i] some dark part of his mind said, petty and frustrated. [i]Should just yank that tail up and show everyone here what kind of bitch Salish is deep down inside.[/i]

The thought was enough to shock him out of his own petty frustrations. He’d never, ever imagined the horse as some sort of bottom. Hell, he’d never imagined any equine anthro as anything of the sort. The males were all possessed of that same huge cock and big body, and the females were nearly as tall, and certainly just as thick in the rump. Anyone that tried to fuck one of them without making sure that she was willing was doing more than just getting a good time; they were taking their lives in their hands.

Salish wasn’t a bitch. He was just…just a show-off.

Shaking his head, Bronx snagged one of the bench-press machines. It was familiar enough for him to get started, and he knew that it would keep him busy for a little while. He slotted the weight down to forty, pushed –

“Holy…”

And nearly threw himself out of the chair. It was as if the resistance was half what it was supposed to be, and he was far more careful as he brought it back down. He paused, then got to his feet and walked to one of the other machines. He put the weight resistance down to the same level, pushed forward more carefully –

Same result. He was pushing forty pounds with far more ease than he expected.

Oh, it wasn’t to say that he expected to be weak, but the feeling of easy work was…off-putting. He wanted to get a workout, and this meant that he’d have to ramp up much higher than he really thought he could.

[i]What the hell…something is way, way off here…[/i]

He pushed the weights up to sixty. Still too easy. Seventy. Still too easy. Eighty…ninety…

Finally, it clicked into place at one hundred. Still not hard, but finally putting some strain on his arms. Bronx shook his head as he settled into place, pushing against the machine. His initial misgivings began to fade as he finally started to burn off some of the energy flooding his veins, comfort returning, his heart no longer feeling like it would beat right out of his chest if he didn’t do something about it.

Push.

Push.

Push.

Finally having an outlet took away some of the strain and anxiety that had started building up in the back of his head, and more, it gave him a sense of relaxation and purpose. There was something [i]good[/i] about pushing himself like this, about using up his energy rather than just letting it settle in him.

This was right.

This was proper.

Work hard.

Work long.

Bronx didn’t know where the feeling came from, but considering that he almost never liked himself enough to feel at peace, he grabbed hold of it and held it tight. If he could feel right with the world and himself by pumping iron, he would be down at the gym every goddamn day to get that feeling. This stress and strain were going to be more than worth it for that feeling.

Lift. Click.

Lift. Click.

He kept going until he reached twenty reps, slowly lowering the weights back down. Bronx took a deep breath, feeling the slow burn in his arms and chest, but he knew that there was so much more that still needed doing. Legs, core, shoulders: each part of his body would need to be pushed, and then he’d need some cardio to end it all, and –

It felt right, but God, it was going to take a while.

He stood up and walked to the next machine. Out of the corner of his eye, he was vaguely aware of Salish turning to see him, even waving. He halfheartedly waved back, feeling that same odd ‘bitch’ comment return to the back of his head. What the hell was that about?

#

An hour. Bronx had just worked out for an hour, and it still felt surreal.

[i]I’ve never worked out that long at once,[/i] he thought as he stepped off the treadmill. [i]Forty-five minutes, maybe, but that…[/i]

It didn’t even feel like he was hurting. Not yet, at least. He might feel more of that when he got back the apartment and stopped moving, he supposed, but for the moment, he felt nothing but comfort, even a low-level bliss from the gentle burn in his muscles. For the first time, he didn’t feel like he was going to explode if he didn’t do something. He still had more energy than he should, and he could probably keep running for another twenty minutes, at least, but the main burn was gone.

Finally.

Thankfully.

He trudged through the gym, making his way back to the locker room. He could feel every drop of sweat running down his back, over his chest, down his spine to the gap in the cargo shorts that let them go down to his ass. He felt swampy from head to toe, oily and wet and completely saturated in the workout. It felt like he needed a shower, but it also felt…satisfying, like a long day of work that had finally paid off.

[i]What the hell happened to me?[/i]

There had to be some correlation to that little totem in his pocket. The talisman was the only thing that had changed in his life since this started, which meant that it had to be responsible in some way. But if that was true, then either it was some horrible chemical or some shit like that, or…

Or there was such a thing as magic, and he had been affected by it.

Bronx shook his head. No point in trying to sort through that right now. He had other things that he needed to take care of, like showering so he didn’t go home smelling like sweat.

He reached his locker and pulled it open. In went his shirt, and his shorts, and his underwear, leaving him completely naked. Not the first time that he’d been like that in public, but the first time in a rather long time. He resisted the urge to shield his crotch, feeling the same shame that he always did about his average package down there, and grabbed his towel from the locker to bring with him.

[i]It’s just average. It’s just average. It’s just fine.[/i]

Most people probably didn’t have the same hang-up that he did about how they looked compared to anthros, but he imagined that most people didn’t grow up so close to a horse. Most people didn’t see their best friend all but burst out of their pants on a daily basis. He imagined 90% of humans didn’t see a horse at full mast before they were well into adulthood and didn’t have the same hang-ups.

But when you were teens, curious teens at that, and one of you had [i]that much[/i] meat down there, it was hard not to feel jealous, and not to feel like you were missing something.

He stepped into the shower area, feeling the tiles underfoot, the cool air soon replaced by hot mist as he turned the knobs under the head. Bronx stepped under the running water, and –

Thump-thump.

Thump-thump.

Thump-thump.

He heard the same running hoofbeats that he remembered hearing when he stared at the totem. He froze in place, feeling something like the heat in his muscles coming back, but this time further down. His eyes widened as he felt it concentrating hotter and hotter just behind his cock, almost like someone was tickling his prostate, and –

And he was getting hard.

He was getting hard right in the middle of the gym showers.

Thump-thump.

Thump-thump.

Thump-thump.

It was a heartbeat and hoofbeats at the same time, and with every breath, no matter how much he tried to calm down, he could feel it rising. Throbbing. Pulsing. His balls felt heavier as the hot water made them sag down, but his cock kept pushing up, up, up, the pale shaft looking harder and harder.

He hadn’t been horny in the slightest a moment ago, and he still wasn’t, but his boner made him look like he’d just found his perfect partner and his body was begging for the chance to rut it. His cheeks burned hotter as he felt it rise up, pointing upward, the cut head starting to shimmer with something other than water. It wasn’t even a big erection, just a very, very hard one, with a vein popping out of one side and the trimmed dark hair down there making it stand out all the more.

[i]Don’t turn around. Just ignore it, ignore the throbbing, and maybe it’ll go down by the time you’ve finished cleaning.[/i]

Or at least, he desperately hoped it would.

As the thumping continued in the back of his head, he swore that he could almost perfectly pinpoint where the totem was. Just behind him, almost exactly 78 degrees to one side, and…and…He could see it in his mind’s eye, glinting with the same dark, impossible shimmer, with that light of horses running through it and over it as it turned.

And that cock on it, just as stiff as his own, and standing out so proudly, so dominantly, as if nothing could challenge it. If he had half that length, he would have been able to stand there without shame, without embarrassment, no matter how hard he got, but he was…

[i]Touch. Stroke. Tease.[/i]

His hand twitched, almost reaching for his dick rather than the soap, but he stopped himself. God, that would get him thrown out of the gym faster than he could blink. He’d be lucky if they didn’t fine him, too. It was one thing to get hard after a work-out – he was pretty sure that most people would just call that a reaction to happy chemicals – but actually indulging? Hell no. Hell fucking no.

And yet, the thought remained. To touch himself, to indulge, to give in and have a little fun with the throbbing shaft in front of him: it felt right, in some way, that once it came up, it had to be taken care of.

[i]There’s nothing wrong with that…right?[/i]

He wasn’t sure if that was his own thought. His cock twitched up again, somehow throbbing hard enough to smack against his stomach. It [i]never[/i] did that. What the hell was going on with him? Why did the exercise –

Clop.

Clop.

Clop.

The thumping hoofbeats banished the urge to touch himself, replaced with a mix of relief, embarrassment, anger, and even attraction as Salish stood beside him at the showers. The bigger horse – so much bigger, 7’2” to his own 5’9” – patted his back before starting the water on his side.

“Heh, didn’t expect to see you come down here. Since when did you get back to working out?”

“Since today…when I felt I had the energy…”

“Huh. Well, looking forward to having you around. I was watching you; good form, but are you sure you’re not going to be insanely sore tomorrow?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You sure? You were hitting the machines pretty hard…and with much heavier weights than I thought you could lift…”

“I’ll be [i]fine.[/i]”

The word came out with more of a bite than he meant, but he was stressed past his limits, and he honestly didn’t know what he was supposed to do. More to the point, he was stiff as a board down there, he was standing beside a long-time friend that outclassed him physically on every level, and he just –

It was too much for him. He shook his head, turning off the water and grabbing his towel. Salish turned and whistled.

“Shut up!” Bronx hissed.

“I just –”

“Shut up, and get the hell out of my way,” he muttered, shoving past the stallion.

He barely realized what he’d done, and it only hit him completely as he reached his locker and realized that all eyes were on him. Bronx froze for a moment, then forced himself to keep toweling off.

Of course it looked weird to everyone else. The tiny human standing up to the muscle-bound super stud? They didn’t know that the pair of them were roommates, didn’t know anything about him and Salish. They just saw the weak little human with an erection shoving his way past a horse and the horse just taking it, saying nothing and doing nothing.

[i]Feels good, doesn’t it?[/i]

He froze as he pulled his shorts on. For the first time, the thought wasn’t just something that he might have thought. It was…it was almost like…

The totem felt heavier in his pockets for a moment, then the feeling of weight disappeared, leaving nothing but the familiar drag on one side. Bronx reached into his pockets, touching it, feeling it, trying to see somehow if he was imagining things or if it had really talked to him, but nothing happened.

[i]I’m losing my mind…I’m losing my goddamned mind…[/i]

Shaking his head, he got dressed as fast as he could. Shirt, underwear, shorts, socks, shoes. Everything on, and then he was out before Salish could catch up with him. He didn’t just walk out, he [i]ran[/i] out the door, and kept running down the sidewalk right for the apartment.

There would be questions. That part was unavoidable. The problem was, would he have any answers that he could give?

He didn’t hate Salish, but he was feeling more and more resentful towards him, and he didn’t know why. All he knew was that something in his life had changed, and it felt like it was going to keep changing if he didn’t find a way to get a handle on it.

Tomorrow, he’d go back to the market and hope that the stall was still there. If nothing else, he could ask the market people if they remembered who the antique-seller was and where to find them. If he could just do that –

[i]Fuck…fuck…fuck…what’s happening to me? What the hell is going on?[/i]

[b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]

Summary: Bronx is a human rather jealous of his roommate and friend. That jealousy may play into something intense, soon.

Tags: M/solo, Beginning of Transformation, Corruption, Jealousy, Human, Stallion, Horse, Size Difference, Locker Room, Nudity, Erection, Embarrassment, Series, Magic, Semi-Possession,