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

Part 2

For giver

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

[i]Bronx was having a familiar dream. In fact, once he knew that it was a dream, he knew that it wouldn’t last for much longer, so he focused on enjoying it for as long as he could.

He’d had this one since he was a teenager. Ever since he saw what Salish was becoming, that thick-shouldered, powerful man that would be able to do whatever he wanted with any partner that he craved, he’d imagined what it would be like to be a human like that. A human with a cock as big as his forearm, a human with muscles the size of an Olympian, and…just feeling strong.

Feeling powerful.

Feeling good.

He was that in the dream. He was a monster of a man, so big that he shouldn’t have been able to move so easily, with a cock that hung almost all the way down to his knees and swung between his thighs as he strode through the dream estate. The feeling of sensual power never left him in the dream, and his balls…his balls were low-hangers, swaying just as much as his cock did, rolling over his thighs with every step to fall over the opposite leg. Everything felt so damn good.

And as he walked, he looked down on bitches left and right. Men and women, women and men, all of them smaller than him and all of them eager to submit. He looked at them, and that was all it took to get them bending over, showing off their backsides, pulling their cheeks apart and showing off their holes.

His cock rose for them, throbbing, spitting pre-cum, and the sheer cocky confidence that came with being the biggest man in the room told him that he deserved all this. The hazy room of the dream didn’t matter; all that mattered were the holes.

He went down the line, feeling the pleasure that he’d neve entirely gotten in the real world as he slammed his cock past puckers and into the depths of his partners. In, out, in, out, using them the way that he had always fantasized about using anyone that he could get his hands on. One moment, he was fucking one partner, then he was in another with no interval. It didn’t matter; it was a dream, and the dream was good.

His head tilted back, his hips rolling. He could feel a weird disconnect from the dream, a pressure that made him realize that his waking self was slowly humping the bed in time to the dream. It was a reminder that he was running out of time to enjoy himself, that he would soon be back to reality, and –

And the dream shifted.

When he looked down again, the human that he’d been fucking had turned into a black-furred horse. A thick-shouldered, big-assed, puffy-holed equine, and one that was shoving his ass back again, and again, and again, all but forcing Bronx to take him.

“Fuck me, stud, fuck me…”

Stud. The word rang loudly in his ears, reminding him again and again of the pleasure of the top of the heard. The head of the herd, the stud, the one that bred everything and used all the other horses. That was him.

That would be him.

That [i]was[/i] him.

In, out, in, out he thrust, and as he fucked, the other partners started turning to horses, as well. Stallions all, stallions with big cocks – though none as big as his – and all of them with round rumps that were just meant for hard use. He groaned as he saw some of them wearing the same harnesses as Salish, the same exact piece of leather, and he imagined what would happen if he reached out and took one of them –[/i]

#

Bronx gasped as he woke up to the feeling of his own cum spilling in his underwear. He groaned, sinking his head into the pillow as he rolled over, staring at the ceiling through half-open eyes as his orgasm continued to pulse away for a few more seconds before dying off.

“So much for getting through the night without another wet dream,” he muttered, rubbing his face.

After running home from the gym, he’d locked himself in his room and refused to come out. Even after Salish got home and knocked on his door, he couldn’t bring himself to show his face. It was too embarrassing after what he’d done, and how he felt from the shower and everything else. He needed time to think, time to be by himself, time to not be thinking about what he might –

[i]He’s not a bitch. Even if I thought that…he’s not.[/i]

And as jealous as he could be about the stallion’s cock size, he needed to stop dwelling on that. It wasn’t fair.

He rolled out of bed, looking down at his stained underwear. Normally, it was a thing for him to walk out for breakfast in nothing but his underwear, but usually, his briefs were clean. He wasn’t about to go out there with stains and the embarrassment of admitting that he’d had a wet dream.

A quick change made him lean over and look at the totem on the nightstand. He could have sworn that he’d left it in his pants pocket last night, but maybe he had forgotten in the panic he’d been in. Regardless, the overly-virile horse looked back at him with an expression that was almost judgmental, and he shook his head at the thing.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

It didn’t answer, of course. He picked it up and put it in the nightstand drawer, shaking his head as he grabbed for the rest of his clothes.

Soon, he was dressed in another black t-shirt with a punk band logo across the front and a pair of dark, ripped jeans. He jammed his feet into a pair of socks and shook his head as he walked out of the bedroom.

As usual, Salish was sitting at the breakfast table near the kitchen nook, the massive horse sipping at a cup of coffee. He had a plate of eggs, but no bacon or sausage. Vegetarian stuff, according to the horse, plus the fat screwed with his guts.

“Anything left for me?” Bronx asked as he walked by the table to the fridge.

“Yeah, couple of pancakes. Thought you could use something after the gym yesterday.”

“Right…”

“So, uh…you got a minute?”

[i]No.[/i]

“…Yeah, I guess,” he forced himself to say, getting the plate out and throwing a pan on the stove. “Gotta reheat this, anyway.”

“I just…wanted to ask what that was about. Yesterday, I mean,” Salish said, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. “I get you’re a little moody, but you’ve never gotten that pissed off with me before. I mean, I don’t [i]think[/i] you have.”

“Well…”

He was about to go into another lie like he always did, sweeping it under the rug and trying to move on from it, but something stopped him. Bronx remembered how angry he had gotten, and how humiliated, and how…how there’d been something else there, something that he didn’t like. For as much as he would have liked to have everything that Salish got without even trying, even he had to admit that he had been a class-A dick to the horse back there. He sighed; all those thoughts felt rather unworthy of him right then.

“I’m sorry. I was just…really embarrassed.”

“About what? Me talking about –”

“Look, most humans don’t like being reminded that we’re smaller than horses,” he muttered, looking down at the countertop. “And I’m one of them. And the fact that I was getting that hard last time, [i]and[/i] I was standing next to you and still shorter…I just…Did you really have to start talking about it in public, when people could have turned around and looked?”

“That’s what it was all about?”

“I…Isn’t that enough?”

“…I didn’t know you were feeling that bad about it,” Salish said. “I mean, what’s there to feel bad about? You got what you got, right?”

“Yes, but [i]you[/i] got more. I mean…look at you,” he said, turning and gesturing up and down at the stallion. “You’re a foot and a half taller than me, you’ve got more muscle than anyone but a professional body-builder, [i]and[/i] you’ve got a dick the size of novelty toys. And you just [i]got[/i] that. You didn’t even have to try for it. You just got it because you’re a horse. Then look at me. Look at…all this…”

It was just pouring out of him now, and he hated it. He wanted to stop, but the self-loathing and the apology had just streamed together. Bronx gestured across his thin shoulders, his flat chest, his muscle-less stomach. No fat, but nothing to build on, either, nothing to show that he had anything worth looking at. It was just pathetic, and –

“Hey, hey. Hey, man, it ain’t nothing,” Salish said, standing up. “And I’m sorry.”

[i]Why can you do that so easily?[/i]

Just like that, he was swept up in the stallion’s arms, his head all but crushed in the white, creamy fur of the other man’s chest. He closed his eyes, fighting back the mixed emotions of relief and jealousy and so much more, forcing himself to just hug the bigger male rather than do anything that would make the whole thing worse. It was harder than he wanted, but easier than it could have been.

“It’ll be okay,” Salish said. “Yeah, you’re not as big as me, but come on. Do you really need to be?”

[i]Yes.[/i]

“You can be a big human. That’s good enough, right? And hey, I can already feel some muscles in those shoulders. I bet you that you’re going to be [i]damn[/i] big after all the gym time if you’re showing that much after your first session. I bet you’ll do fine.”

That wasn’t helping. Not nearly as much as Salish probably thought it was, at least. He knew that there was plenty there that was true, but it didn’t stop him from wishing that he could have had more, that he could have been blessed to be something – someone – different.

He squeezed Salish anyway, just hoping that he could keep some of the good feelings that the horse had and just…turn that into something that he could feel for himself. He didn’t know if he ever would, but he could at least try, and that…that would have to be worth something.

When the hug ran out, he stepped back and went back to making breakfast. There was little more to be said between them; Salish bought the whole embarrassment thing, but –

“Hey.”

“Yeah?” the stallion asked.

“…Can I get an apology?”

“For – oh, that?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“…You know, you’re right. I’m sorry for embarrassing you like that. I [i]really[/i] should have started with that instead of all that stuff about how it’s okay, shouldn’t I?”

“You think?” Bronx said, rolling his eyes.

“But seriously. Sorry.”

“Thanks.”

It wasn’t much, but it made him feel a bit better. And it at least made him feel like the friendship was still where it was supposed to be rather than in tatters somewhere, with him thinking of the horse as a bitch – and his bitch, at that, which was still strange – and the whole relationship between them thrown out the window.

Because they had been friends for a long time. He’d been jealous for a long time, too, but jealousy and a friendship weren’t exactly incompatible. It just meant that they needed some managing, and he needed some space that other friends didn’t need from their friends, and…

Well, it worked. And that was the important thing.

Salish headed out – probably off to class – by the time that Bronx sat down to eat. The pancakes didn’t last long, and he leaned back in his chair, staring at the far wall as he considered his options.

The energy from last night was still there. Not as strong, not so overpowering as it had been at the market and the gym, but it [i]was[/i] there. Much as he would have loved to chalk it up to nervous energy or something from the gym, it was too much for that. He was still buzzing without coffee, without caffeine, without anything. It was just…there, like a subtle sunshine in his veins, like a battery that craved to be used.

And it had to come from the totem, somehow.

[i]I need to go back to the market. Hopefully the guy’s still there.[/i]

And hopefully, nobody had called the cops and banned him from it when he’d walked off without paying for anything.

#

The guy wasn’t there.

He stood in front of the spot where the booth had been. None of the other booths had been packed up just yet, though most of the shop-owners were away, but this one was gone. Packed up, taken down, and – as far as he could tell – it was as if it had never been there in the first place.

Bronx turned to a familiar organizer – a rat clerk that occasionally poked his head out of his office for sandwich runs – and grabbed him by the arm as he passed by.

“Hey, can I ask you a favor?”

“Oh, hey, Bronx. What’s up?”

“There was a seller here, yesterday. Do you remember what his shop was called?”

“Here?”

“Yeah, right here.”

“You sure?”

“…Why are you asking?”

“Because this place hasn’t been occupied for a year. The last time that we had anyone here, it was some sort of leather horse gear stall, but I haven’t had anyone book this slot for months.”

“…”

“You sure it was here?”

“I…thought I was…”

“Well, if you see them again, let me know; if someone’s stealing space, I want to make sure that they’re actually paying for the slot. We’re barely keeping the market afloat as it is…”

Bronx nodded dumbly, letting the rat go. Processing that bit of information was going to take a minute, he knew, and he sat down on the curb, resting his hands on the sides of his head as he tried to take it all in.

Nobody there for months, yet there’d been a booth put up the day before. Maybe someone had snuck into the street market with some antiques, or maybe he had gotten it wrong and it had been at another part of the market – no, no, he couldn’t even tell himself that. He’d deliberately counted the stalls walking back up from the end of the market, just to be sure that he got the right one. He’d made sure that he came to the precise spot he’d seen the antique store at.

And now…there was nothing.

[i]Okay, let’s not jump to conclusions. It’s not necessarily anything supernatural. It might just be bad luck. It might be something completely mundane. It might –[/i]

The heat in his veins jumped, and he felt his heart start pounding. It was just like yesterday, just like after he’d gotten the totem, and –

“The fuck?!”

It was nothing more than a hiss as he felt something heavy in his pocket. Bronx stood up, jamming his hand down his pants and pulling it out.

It was the totem. His hand shook as he stared at the onyx carving, unable to believe that it was actually there. He’d left it in the nightstand. He’d put the damn thing in the drawer, then gotten dressed. There was literally no way that it could have been on his person at that moment, and yet, there it was, weighing down his hand.

His heart felt like it was going to beat right out of his ribcage as it kept thumping away, and his limbs felt like they were burning up with the need to move, to do something. His breath came in fits and gasps, huffs and puffs, and he was shivering from head to toe. Something was wrong. Something was wrong with him, and getting worse with each passing second. He had to – he had to –

He had to run.

He took one step, then another, and another, and then he was flying down the street, beating rubber soles to pavement faster than he had ever done in his life. He almost felt like each step could have shot him into the air, and he felt like he was genuinely leaping from step to step, running faster than any track star, further than any marathon runner.

One block, two, three; the streets seemed to open up for him, and he couldn’t stop running. Running took some of the heat away. Running made him feel like there was a reason for his heart pounding.

Running.

Running.

Running.

His legs should have ached. His lungs should have burned. Neither was true. Instead, he felt content, even happy as he pushed himself through the concrete jungle that was the city around the apartment. He kept running through intersections, managing to hit them at just the right time to get a green light so he didn’t have to stop. Each time that he saw one on the verge of changing, he poured on the speed and just barely made it.

He was keeping pace with the slower cars, and he loved it. There was something about the free-running that filled him with a wild ecstasy that was completely foreign to him. It just…consumed him, leaving him happy, leaving him without thought or word as he ran through the streets. It was just…freedom.

#

He eventually made his way back to the apartment, and though he was soaked to the skin with sweat, he felt better. The heat was gone; he’d managed to either out-run it or just used it up. Salish wasn’t in the apartment, either, probably still at school or down at the gym. Either way, it was fine.

Bronx pulled the totem out of his pants pocket again, staring at it. The glinting onyx almost felt like it was mocking him as he glared at it.

“I should get rid of you.”

It was the best decision that he could make, and he knew that form the bottom of his heart. This thing was responsible for the heat in his chest, for the strange bursts of energy that he felt, and, though he no idea how, it [i]had[/i] to be responsible for the way that he was starting to think of Salish in such a cruel, demanding way.

It had to go.

It had to [i]go.[/i]

His hand hovered over the trash can. For a moment, he felt like it was almost squirming, as if it was trying to get away, but that was impossible. It was onyx, rock. There was no way that it could do anything of the sort.

And yet…and yet he struggled to actually release it. He grunted under his breath, trying to force himself to open his fingers, but the more that he tried, the harder it was.

In the end, he reached around with his other hand and slowly peeled his fingers back one by one. Little by little, he lost his grip on the little talisman until it fell from his hand, dropping into the bin and tangling with the bag. He slammed the lid shut, half-afraid that it might somehow jump out and join him again.

[i]Impossible…impossible…[/i]

Shaking his head, he took a deep breath and put it out of his mind. For now, shower.

He ditched his clothes on the way. Normally, he would have undressed in the shower, but he was already sweaty and the only one in the apartment. Might as well have a little fun with that. He was naked by the time he reached the doorway, stepped through –

And then paused as he saw his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He backed up and looked at himself again, staring at the extra hair on his shoulders and chest. That hadn’t been there last night, he knew that for a fact. He would have seen that at the gym, considering how hyper-conscious he had been of his body at the time, and he doubted that he would have missed the fact that the black hair along his chest and back was far thicker than it had been.

Nor would Salish have let that go by, come to think of it.

He reached over his shoulder, pinching the spot where Salish had touched earlier. The horse was right; there [i]was[/i] more muscle back there than there had been, and as he worked his fingers down his arm, feeling at his shoulder, his bicep, and even his forearm, he could feel small gains all the way down his limb.

Bronx shook his head, trying not to keep whispering the same word – impossible – but it was just that. Nobody got muscle that fast. Nobody had visible, tangible gains in less than twenty-four hours from one session. That just didn’t happen.

And the hair growth…what the hell? What…why?

There would be no answers. He needed something to calm down, and he hoped that the hot water from the shower would be that thing. Pulling the shower curtain out of the way, he stepped inside and pulled the knob over to the right position. The water came out with the same high pressure as ever, and he just slumped against the tiled wall, letting it pour over him and wash the stink of his run away.

And it was a stink, he realized. There was much more smell to his sweat than there used to be, and it worried him. Either he was getting sick, or –

[i]No, no, no, no, no. No more thinking. Just showering. Focus on that. You can’t solve the other thing, so focus on this,[/i] he told himself.

So, he focused on showering. He put all his attention on self-massage, rubbing away the sweat that had built up from the run and just enjoying the feeling of his hands on himself in a private location. The hot water running down his back made him feel more and more relaxed, and he sighed as he felt his balls drooping down between his legs. At moments like these, he could almost pretend that he had horse balls, at least, even if the real thing didn’t actually rest down there. He could pretend –

He froze as his hands reached his cock. He expected to have a hard-on; he got that from time to time in the shower when he was cleaning up, but this was the first time that he had felt a new detail on his dick. Bronx reached down, stroking a finger just under the head…then a little higher…and then –

There. There was a lip of skin there, just like…a foreskin.

[i]What…the fuck…[/i]

He was circumcised. It was impossible for him to have a foreskin. Hell, his skin was so tight down there that he usually had to use at least a little lube just to jerk off, let alone actually do anything. He shouldn’t have any loose skin down there whatsoever.

Yet, there it was. He could even fiddle with it a bit.

“What the hell…what the fucking hell…”

Bronx turned around, leaning away from the water and grabbing his dick by the base. He tilted it back – no, no actual foreskin, but the formerly tight skin around his cock had gotten wrinklier. It didn’t quite wrap around the head, but it did shift and brush up against the bottom of the glans, and that was more than a little new for him. He blushed, trying not to stare too much, or reach for it –

[i]Don’t touch…don’t touch…[/i]

But it was throbbing away, and just like at the gym, it throbbed and pulsed and almost danced with need. Every so often, a particularly hard throb went through it, and it jumped to smack against his belly. The little impact, the soft body-hair waiting for it, and the little slide of flesh on flesh was…pleasurable, in its own way. Almost like a strange sort of masturbation in and of itself.

He bit his lips as his cock continued to dance between his legs, taking its own pleasure as he tried to keep cleaning himself off. Everywhere that he touched seemed a little bit thicker than usual, and he kept trying to tell himself that it was just his imagination, but it was getting harder and harder to believe that. Particularly with the little shifts that were impossible to entirely deny.

Shaking his head, he finally finished cleaning off. Resisting the urge to finish off, he turned off the water, pulled the curtain –

“GAH!”

And almost fell flat on his ass at the sight of the horse talisman on the counter. His eyes were wide as his heart tried to jump out of his chest at the sight of the cursed thing.

“How the fuck…No, no, no, you’re not real, you’re not real, this is impossible, I’m hallucinating –”

Barely keeping his balance, Bronx dragged himself out of the shower and grabbed a towel. He refused to look back at it, shivering as he wiped himself dry from head to toe. It wasn’t there. It wasn’t there. It was in the trash can, and when he turned around, the black totem wasn’t going to be there anymore. He just had to turn around and prove that to himself, and everything would be completely okay again.

But what if it was there?

[i]It’s not…it…it can’t be…[/i]

But what if it was?

He shook his head, taking a deep breath. He just had to…just had to take a look, just to be sure. One look, then he’d wrap the towel around his waist and go back to his bedroom and get dressed. One look. That was all.

One…two…three!

Bronx whipped his head around, and there was nothing on the counter. His heart still pounded in his chest, but he didn’t have the same outright terror that he’d been feeling for the last few seconds. He leaned forward, slumping over the bathroom sink as he panted for breath.

“Thank god…thank fuck…”

It was gone. He was just seeing things. It was all in his head. He smiled as he looked up –

“HOLY SHIT!”

And threw himself back from the mirror. He slammed against the wall, and –

And the thing that he’d seen was gone.

Bronx stared at the mirror, afraid to get back to his feet. If he looked again and saw that, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. He wasn’t even entirely sure [i]what[/i] he’d seen he just knew that there was no way that it could have been him.

It looked vaguely equine, but in a way that was almost more like a pastiche of one, a caricature of what a horse was supposed to be. A long face, big body, a cock that was almost impossibly large: all those things had been there, but more than that, there’d been a void in those eyes, something that felt hungry enough to consume him if he’d stared at it for too long. And they’d been staring right at him, not a reflection, but another person.

He didn’t even have the guts to get back to his feet. Instead, he got to all fours and crawled, making his way from the bathroom, down the hall, and to his bedroom. His hands shook as he went through his dresser, finding new clothes to pull on.

The first few shirts didn’t fit. He didn’t know how, but he’d gone from fitting his clothes to being too big for them in the time it took to shower. He had to settle for a big baggy shirt that he normally slept in, pulling it over his head and letting it hang just a little over his waistline. It used to drop down to the base of his cock.

Same with his pants. He could just about slide into a pair of jeans, but they couldn’t be buttoned, nor zipped. Settling for a pair of sweat pants that revealed far more than he wanted about his intimate areas, he laid down in bed, folding his hands over his chest as he forced himself to breathe as evenly as he could.

[i]Okay…okay, something’s wrong with me. Something’s very, very wrong with me.[/i]

That part was undeniable. He was getting serious energy boosts, his muscles were growing in way too fast, and he had gotten the first step towards a restored foreskin down there. None of those were [i]bad[/i] on their own, but the fact that it had happened so fast, and that he was getting hallucinations to go along with it, meant that something else had happened to him.

For a moment, he wondered if it was just something that the totem was made of. Maybe it was contaminated rock and it had gotten into his system. If so, maybe a doctor visit could clear that up. Maybe…

[i]You’re not sick. You’re healthy. Healthier than you’ve ever been.[/i]

Bronx’s eyes went wide. That – that sounded almost like the thoughts that had come from nowhere in the gym. He whipped his head around –

Thump-thump.

Thump-thump.

Thump-thump.

With each pulsing thump-thump, he could feel his dick rising. Through the terror, through the fear, he could feel his cock getting harder and harder beneath his sweat pants, and the further that it pushed against the front, the more the temptation to reach for it grew. It was always there, always pushing for more attention, and –

[i]Don’t be afraid…it’s good…[/i]

“What…what are you?”

There was no answer. Just more –

Thump-thump.

Thump-thump.

Thump-thump.

It was like the beat of a heart, but not the sort that one would get from leaning on someone else’s chest. It was like what one would feel from a cock inside them, from the big shaft of meat hanging between their legs. He could feel his cock’s pulsing beat echoing the thumping sound, and his shaking hands inched ever closer to his crotch.

“Stop…stop…stop this!”

But his hands weren’t listening to him. They were closer and closer to his bulge, now, closer and closer to pulling his pants down and grabbing hold of his cock. If he didn’t do something, if he couldn’t get free, then –

He bit back a moan as his fingers gripped the edge of his waistband, slowly peeling it down. The head of his cock looked…it looked a bit bigger, and so did the rest of it. And there were a few more little wrinkles to the shaft as a whole. It was –

Knock-knock.

The thumping stopped, and Bronx gasped as he yanked his sweat pants back up. He was able to tie them off and get to his feet before Salish opened the door.

“Hey, uh, did you mean to leave your laundry all over the place?” the horse asked. “Convert to nudism or something?”

“No, no, just, uh, had a long run and needed a shower and didn’t want to undress in there,” he said.

“Ah, gotcha. No worries, just wanted to check. You cooking tonight?”

“Uh, t-take-out, I think.”

“Awesome. Talk later?”

“Sure.”

Nodding, Salish closed the door, and he was left alone once more. He sat down on the side of the bed, then reluctantly opened the drawer.

The totem was still there. He glared at it for a moment before slamming the drawer shut.

[i]What the hell is wrong with me?![/i]

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

Summary: Bronx tries to dismiss some of what’s happening to him as unreal, but things continue on…

Tags: M/solo, Transformation, Human, Equine, Horse, Stallion, Roommates, Slow Corruption, Curse, Hallucination, Horror, Possession, Slow Burn, Jealousy, Arousal, Erection,