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

Part 3

For giver

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

In the end, they decided on Chinese, and Bronx had to push to go and get it himself. He’d felt the energy building up again and he knew that he had to burn it off doing something. Either he stayed in the apartment and hoped for the best by doing limited exercise, or he went for a walk to get the food and kept his heart from bursting from his chest by keeping on the move. The latter sounded a lot better to him, particularly after the horror show of the totem dancing around the place and leaving him completely terrified.

Salish had offered to drive down – hell, the horse had even offered to give him a ride – but Bronx just…

He couldn’t. He needed to move, and he needed to be by himself for a little longer. He had to try and figure this out, and if Salish pushed him, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to hold his temper around the stallion.

Thud, thud, thud. He kept up a steady walking pace through a poorer part of town. They always got their Chinese food from the same restaurant, cheap and filling, but it was only cheap because it was way out here. If it had been in any decent part of town, everything would have been twice the price because of the quality, but –

Bronx paused as a car slowed ahead of him. Most of the time he’d clear the sidewalk, moving out of the way just in case, but this time –

[i]Try it,[/i] some part of him said. [i]This would be the day…just try it…[/i]

Something in him felt…different. Angry, but it was more than just his anger at the whole day going to hell and everything that had happened to him. There was something…something primal to it, something that growled and glared and just dared the world to try him.

[i]How dare you try this with me?

How dare you think that you’re good enough for me?

Try it and see what fucking happens.[/i]

His face hurt from how hard he glared at the passing car. For a moment, he was sure that they were going to pull a gun or stop just ahead of him for a mugging, but just as the car seemed about to stop, someone inside shoved the driver and they kept on moving. Bronx glared them off, flipping the bird as they rounded the corner.

Just as they disappeared, the adrenaline rushing through his veins did the same. He wobbled on his feet, the blood rushing from his face as the reality of the situation hit him like a freight truck.

[i]The hell did I just do?[/i]

Something that wasn’t too bright, that was for damn sure. No matter how much new muscle he might have gotten, he sure as hell wasn’t the sort of guy that could stop a bullet in its tracks, and most of the gangs around here went armed. If he mouthed off at the wrong guy, he could end up at the hospital or worse.

And yet…

At the same time, there had been such satisfaction in just giving those assholes the finger and making them fuck off. However he had managed it, he’d still managed it, and that was something that he could take some satisfaction in.

Shaking his head, he kept walking down the road. It took another ten minutes to reach the restaurant, and his order was waiting at the front of the building. A quick exchange of bills and pleasantries – which always came with well-wishes and happy smiles – brought his mood back up, and he walked back out of the building with a plastic bag hanging from his wrist and a smile on his own face.

As he made the journey back to the apartment, it was hard not to feel better about himself. The momentary drop into fear and musings of mortality faded into the back of his head, replaced with the feeling of confidence and power that had prompted the whole thing in the first place. Just getting angry had made him more confident in himself than he had ever been before, and stomping his foot and planting himself to keep from being bowled over by the assholes out here just…

It was right. It felt fucking [i]right[/i] to stand up for himself. He smiled, rounding the second to last corner –

The car was back. Same black paint, same three silhouettes inside. They got out as soon as he rounded the corner. Two rats and a human, each of them with a blue mohawk down the middle of their heads, each one with a gun at their sides. They didn’t look happy, either, and they were already walking right for him.

Bronx paused, his eyes wide. The reality of the situation crashed through that little bit of happiness and confidence that he had felt, reminding him just how fucked he was if he didn’t do something.

But what?

He didn’t take a step back, but only because his legs were frozen. He wanted to run, but his body didn’t want to listen. He wanted to drop the food and get the hell out of there, but he…he couldn’t…do…

The energy that had him fast-walking the whole time surged, and something…something pushed forward. He felt his face turning up in a smile before he blacked out.

#

When he came to, he was looking down at two bleeding faces – one of the rats and the human – and the second rat tumbled over the car, as if he had just been punched into it. The still-conscious rodent gasped for breath, hugging his stomach and shaking his head.

“No more, no more! Fuck, you made your point! We’ll leave you alone, just fucking stop!”

Bronx looked down at his fist. There was blood on his fingers and…and there was a bit on his shirt, too, though it was harder to see through the black material. What had just happened?

He was scared to realize that he didn’t know. Whatever [i]had[/i] happened – and something clearly had – it had happened with him completely out of the loop. It was like he’d fainted or something, and his body had been on autopilot, and…

And he’d beaten the crap out of two people and was about to do the same to a third. The guns weren’t anywhere in sight, and he didn’t know what had happened to them, and he didn’t really want to know. He just wanted to get the hell out of there, and quick.

Shaking his head, Bronx muttered something along the lines of ‘then leave me alone’ before turning and walking away. His legs barely listened; something in him wanted to finish the job, to curb-stomp the gang members into the pavement, to show them that this wasn’t their turf, that he wasn’t someone that they could try and intimidate.

He almost listened. He almost went back and…

The urge faded as he rounded another corner and kept walking. With each block between him and the gang members, he managed to push the urge down a little bit further. With each successive step, he put the violence behind him and managed to feel more and more himself again. Or at least, as much himself as he could with that little horror behind him.

[i]Something’s wrong…something’s very…very wrong…[/i]

That stupid talisman had to be behind it. Everything had changed since he picked it up, and it kept coming back after he threw it away. Was it a hallucination like the thing in the mirror when he saw it moving around the house, or was that something that it was really doing? It felt impossible, and yet, here he was, still standing after dealing with a bunch of criminals that were out to mug him, at the very least.

And he still had the dinner on his arm. He hadn’t even lost that during the fight. And he didn’t even know how to fight.

[i]I’m still okay, though…I’m still…I still taught them a lesson.[/i]

It was a very dark satisfaction that came with that thought. Bronx had never been a particularly violent person, but knowing that he could take care of himself, that he could put someone down that wanted to hurt him, brought its own kind of confidence. It didn’t make him feel good in himself, but it made him feel less bad, and when someone carried around enough self-hate, that was a good enough substitute.

He managed to smile as he reached the apartment building. When he told Salish about this, he doubted that his roommate would believe a word of it, but…why not? Why not talk about it?

Up and down the hall, and then he was home. Bronx opened the door and called out.

“Food’s here!”

“Oh, great. Nothing like Chinese fake meat.”

“I still don’t get your diet. I really don’t.”

“Well, no animal meat.”

“But eggs are okay?”

“I go vegetarian, not vegan.”

“Uh-huh.”

Salish had already set the table by the time he reached the dining room, a plate on either side, silverware, and water. The horse probably had that most of the way done before he’d even gotten to the restaurant, and had just waited on the water to keep it cold.

As Bronx set the bag down on the table, Salish blinked. He pointed to the far side.

“Uh…that doesn’t look like a spilled sauce, man.”

“What do you mean?”

“Is that…blood?”

Bronx turned the bag. Sure enough, the blood from the fight had managed to stain the bag as well as his shirt. He hissed under his breath, shaking his head as he sat down, but a smile started creeping onto his face despite his best efforts. The memory of their fear at the end –

“Dude, what the hell happened? Why are you smiling?”

“…I guess I just…feel good. Some of the assholes in that neighborhood thought that they could…I don’t know. They pulled up on me, and I made them regret it.”

“You – what?! Bronx, when the hell did you – you’re supposed to run, not fight those guys.”

“Sometimes you can’t fucking run,” he said, his smile dropping. “And I’m not going to just let them walk all over me anymore. I’m sick of people doing that.”

“When did they ever do that? When does [i]anyone[/i] do that?”

“Every time that I had to pretend that I’m okay and give up what I want,” he muttered. “And I’m done pretending that I’m okay. I’m going to get what I want from now on. And I want…I want a lot.”

He’d cut himself off at the last second there, knowing what he was going to say. He was going to say ‘I want you,’ and no matter what other kind of bullshit magic or supernatural stuff was going on, there was no way in hell that he was going to get away with saying something like that. Salish would think that he was completely crazy, and the horse would probably be right. Bronx was half-sure that he [i]was[/i] going crazy at this point.

“I – look. Maybe you need to take a break from stuff,” his roommate said, slowly unbagging the meal and gingerly avoiding the blood spot. “Maybe you should take a day off from the gym, from the market, from school –”

“No way. I’ve never felt better.”

“Maybe, but you…look, I’m a little worried here. This just…this came out of nowhere. Maybe there’s something going on, but –”

“What’s the matter? Afraid I’m going to slap some reins on you and tell you what to do?”

Salish froze, his mouth hanging open. Bronx barely managed to keep the same expression off his face as he grabbed his Styrofoam box and opened it, pouring his food onto his plate as he shook his head.

“Kinda arrogant to think that I’d just do something like that. I’m fine. I am fine. I’m going to be fine. And you don’t have to worry about me. I can take care of myself now. Like I just proved out there.”

“…Okay. It’s not like I can stop you, but…look. If something does happen –”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“…I was going to ask that you just tell me, okay?”

“…If it’s something I can’t take care of, I’ll tell you.”

“Better than nothing.”

“…You okay?”

“Oh, sure, just…whoo.”

The stallion shook his head, looking…flustered, almost, which was something that Bronx hadn’t seen from his roommate. Not in response to him, at least, and very rarely from anyone outside the apartment. Had that…

Had he just turned the bigger guy on? He didn’t know that was possible, or that Salish could be interested in humans, but he really hadn’t thought that any aggressive behavior might have gotten to the stallion. He always imagined the horse as someone that got what he wanted and just took what he needed from others, not someone that might be interested in bending over for the right dick.

[i]Not that I have that,[/i] he thought as he spooned some rice next to the saucy beef and veg on his plate. [i]He’d never even feel what I got…[/i]

But it was a fun thought, at least, and something stirred in him as he imagined pulling the stallion closer. That harness would be good for something, at least, and he imagined that it would be a very good handhold for a bit of hard anal. That ass looked like it could take the punishment and then some, and he couldn’t help but smile for reasons that had nothing to do with the taste of his food.

“Thanks for picking this up,” Salish muttered.

“No problem. Gotta do my part taking care of everything. Myself and you.”

And there, just out of the corner of his eye, he caught the slightest blush in his roommate’s cheeks. He didn’t know why, nor how, but that little statement had been enough to catch the horse’s interests.

[i]Hmm…[/i]

#

They went to bed not long after that, and he slipped beneath his covers with a groan. For all that the strange energy that he got from the talisman powered him through the day, he still felt stiff and sore when he went to bed. It made him feel eager to embrace the night and the dreamland, but even with the convenience, he still felt concerned.

He rolled onto his side, staring at the nightstand. As far as he knew, the horse totem was still inside it, waiting, standing with its proud prick on display. He shook his head and rolled over, facing away from it as his body continued its slow shut-down of sleep. Tiredness came at him in waves, and he groaned as he yawned.

It was so strong that he almost felt like he was being attacked by his own tiredness, pulled down, seized and dragged away. It was…it was overwhelming in a way that exhaustion had never been before the talisman.

[i]Does it…want me to…sleep?[/i]

If it wanted things, then that was even more concerning. Just like his behavior at the table had been, for all that he liked the results. Was he…was he going to be that mean to Salish from now on? The horse just wanted to help him, was just concerned, was –

Another yawn. Harder and harder to fight the sleep. He groaned, slowly closing his eyes. This time, he didn’t open them again.

#

[i]The dream world opened up before him, and he ran through it. Just like during the day, he ran, his legs pumping, his heart pounding, his body soaring through each pace. He felt like he was leaping dozens of feet with every step, his body impossibly light, his limbs impossibly strong as he made his way through the world.

This was freedom.

This was happiness.

This was strength and power.

When he ran, it felt like nothing could touch him. No foe was fast enough to keep up with him; no rival was strong enough to bring him down. He was the most potent, most powerful, most manly of anything that wandered this world. He was the Stud, the creature that brought manhood to everything. His cock was the pride of the world, and it was the center of existence for all those that bent before him.

With every stride, he felt like he conquered another piece of the world. With every step, the echoes of his passage swelled and spread further and further, informing all that lay ahead what came for them. He was…

He was…stallion.

Bronx slowed, looking at himself. Gray-black fur ran across his chest. The dragon tattoo that ran across his arm like a sleeve before showing the head across his chest was still there, but slightly more muted than it was against his skin. His face…his face was long, with a horse muzzle and horse ears, and between his legs…

His hands slowly moved down, dragging along his abs until they found his shaft. It was hard, strong, pointing forward like a horse cock that one might see driving by a farm. The broad, flared head was already aroused, the wide urethra dribbling pre-cum in eager anticipation of a hole to rut. He ran his fingers down the impossibly large shaft, the jealous side of him eagerly embracing the feeling of being so well-hung, so impossibly large.

The Stud had never been anything less, and as the Stud, Bronx would be blessed with this, as well.

Soft groans escaped his lips as he felt the sheer girth of the horse cock. Even with bigger hands, he could barely wrap his fingers around the whole thing. The bulge in the middle where the medial ring popped and swelled pushed them further apart, and the flared head promised to lock someone to him, serving him, for as long as he wished. He growled, clenching his teeth as he squeezed around the tip, feeling just how sensitive it was, and the smell of the barn and the rutting fields made his hips want to thrust and hump.

His fingers delved further down, running to the base and the entrance to his sheath. It was wet and warm inside, and even though his cock was damn near the center of his world, he still felt the pleasure of something inside. Rubbing there, feeling his digits probing, poking, teasing the sensitive flesh within, was enough to leave him huffing. His balls…

Further down.

Further down.

They were big, so big and leathery and yet so smooth. None of the slender hairs that he was used to on his human sac, just the soft leather that horse balls were famous for. He rubbed them, squeezing them gently, feeling the sheer weight against his palms. So much cum, so much seed. All his to give to the subordinates that he would gather.

All there for his herd.

His mares.

A shiver ran down his spine as he imagined even other males as his mares, their asses up, their holes puckering, waiting for the chance to be broken in by the Stud. They would come to him once they had the first taste of it, come to him and bend over and beg for more. He imagined…

He imagined Salish.

As the image of the red-white horse popped into his head, so did the equine himself pop into the dream. This time, that harness around his chest and back looked particularly slutty, there only for some top to get a handhold on him and drag him back. Someone that wanted to be used, someone whose huge ass was the better feature than his huge cock.

“Mmm, Stud…you’re so strong…so powerful…I’ve been taking care of myself for so long…take care of me…”

“Oh, I’ll take care of you…”

The words came from his mouth, but he couldn’t believe that he was saying them. The stallion that Bronx had become stepped forward, grabbing Salish’s hardness and whipping him around. He was rougher, stronger, harder than he had ever been, and he was shocked at his own brutality as he slammed the stallion against an invisible dream wall.

Salish whinnied in shock, but didn’t fight it as dream-Bronx yanked the other horse’s tail up. An eager pucker awaited, already pushing out. Trained on toys, he saw, trained and stretched already, but not quite ready for a horse cock.

He would be, though. Soon, he would be.

His flared tip oozed as he dragged it down the other horse’s spine, dribbling thick slime over his back and tail-base. Further down, further back, between the cheeks and against that puckering hole. The rim spread with the first little nudge, and he chuckled as Salish gasped in shock.

“So…big…”

“You’re with the Stud. That’s what you get.”

He pushed forward. The dream gave him what he wanted: pleasure. The heat of a tight hole squeezed down on him, massaging his cock, and he heard Salish gasping, hissing, shocked at the sheer size of it.

Everything would be tight to him.

Everyone would be small compared to him.

In the distance, shadows of other figures appeared, an audience to their rutting. Bronx smirked, looking at them and nodding as they watched another horse being taken. The great and powerful stallions were his people, but they were still under him. The horses ruled all, and he ruled the horses. And –[/i]

#

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Bronx groaned at the sound of his phone alarm and fumbled for it. It eventually buzzed its way across the nightstand to his hand and he picked it up, turning it off. He opened his eyes –

“…Fuck you,” he muttered at the onyx totem sitting on top of the nightstand. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you…”

The dream loomed large in his mind as he rolled onto his back. It wasn’t that much different than the power fantasies that he used to have –

[i]But…but it was…[/i]

He shook his head, wondering what he was thinking. He’d [i]never[/i] imagined himself as a full horse before, just as a person that had horse-sized attributes. He’d never dreamed of himself with a sheath, or hooves, or with that much of a focus on running. It had always been something more like…more like he was trying to get what he wanted, to have the feeling of equine power and attraction without actually being equine. This was the first time that he had dreamed of it so intensely as the real thing rather than something imitating it.

And it had felt good. Scarily good. He remembered feeling more alive in the dream than he had in real life, and that scared him.

Not quite as much as the throbbing between his legs did, though.

There was something different about it this morning, something that put him off from pulling the blankets down and tending to it. He wanted to ignore it, today. He wanted to pretend that the dream hadn’t affected him as much as it had, and…

And yet, there was something that he wanted to know. Something that he wanted to check just in case he had imagined it in the shower. Maybe…maybe there was something that he had missed yesterday.

[i]This is a mistake,[/i] he told himself. [i]Shouldn’t be indulging this. I should be ignoring it and going to a doctor or something…[/i]

And yet, there was an erotic curiosity. The fact that he’d been sure that his cock was changing in the shower made him think that there was something more. He’d always wondered what guys with a foreskin felt when they were jerking off, and if he was getting looser skin down there – somehow – maybe it would feel good to touch it again, to experiment, to do something a little different.

[i]Can’t believe I’m this horny about it…[/i]

Shaking his head, he slowly pulled his blankets down. True to form, his sweats were pushed forward by his morning wood, throbbing away. He hesitated, then slowly peeled his pants down –

“Holy…”

His cock had changed, alright, and it had changed even further than he had thought it would. It wasn’t [i]longer[/i], but it was a little bit thicker. He’d been an inch and a half thick before, maybe two inches on a good day, but this time, it was a little more than that. He could lay three fingers against it and just barely cover the girth, and more than that, there was…there was something about the flesh on his cock that made it look different.

‘Floppy’ was the wrong word, because it wasn’t like his dick looked freakish or anything, but there was a definite foreskin now, one that crept past the head and even though it was completely hard, the foreskin still had a droopy end to it, extending past the head of his cock and dangling. Little wrinkles appeared along the sides of it, making it look like his dick was encased in some sort of fleshy toy.

It was…surreal, to say the least, but also kind of hot. He gripped the base of his cock, giving it a gentle squeeze, then slowly pulled –

“Ah!”

He gasped, having to let go as a shock of pleasure rolled through his dick. The feeling of the foreskin pulling against the head was an entirely new sensation, and it was sensitive as hell. He couldn’t remember the last time that he had felt that sensitive, nor that much pleasure – to the point where it was almost painful – just from tugging on his dick.

He couldn’t just leave it there, though. Almost like an addict returning to his drug of choice after a long time away, he reached for his cock again and slowly pulled down. Little by little, the foreskin dragged down his cock, and it felt like the most delicious penetration in the world, thrusting through something so perfectly shaped for him, slowly grinding in, in, in –

“Mmmph!”

And then the skin parted, the head popping through and the foreskin sliding down to settle just under the slight bulge at the bottom of his glans. The cool air on the head of his cock was almost unpleasant, almost, but the gathering of all that flesh under the tip was so strange. His cock almost looked like it would get lost in there, and he could only imagine how he’d look when he went soft.

[i]Almost like a sheath.[/i]

The thought was nearly enough to make him take his hand from his cock, but it felt so good to keep the slow stroke going that he didn’t want to stop. His fingers were gentle, and he had to take it slow because of just how intensely good it felt, but he kept stroking. Up, down, up, down, slowly pulling the fascinating new flesh along his cock, so focused on the different feelings that it gave him compared to the tight, slippery feeling that he had to settle for in the past.

No lube, this time.

No need for it.

He could feel the slipperiness inside of his foreskin the more he stroked, knowing that there was pre-cum getting trapped in there, but it only made the whole thing that much more erotic. Everything was so much more sensitive, and even at the snail’s pace that he moved, he could feel his bliss rising. So much, so good, so intense. He moaned, his head rolling back against his pillow as he fought the urge to hump his hand.

It was so wet, so messy-sounding, and it kept throwing him off, but in a good way. He blushed at the sound of his own stroking, feeling the wet slime oozing down every time that the new flesh was pulled down all the way, knowing that it was a nasty, messy thing, but feeling so good. The slime made him sound like he was actually fucking something besides just his hand, and he…he kinda liked it. It made him feel virile, powerful, sexy.

He was so close, too. As he pulled his hand back up, dragging the skin over the head, he had an idea. He stuck one finger in his mouth, sucking on it until it was soaked with spit, and pushed it just under the skin. Just that little penetration through the flesh was oddly sensual, almost like he was fingering himself and stroking himself at the same time. He pushed it in further, further –

And then he bumped the tip of his cock.

It was so sensitive, so painful-pleasurably sensitive, that it instantly set him off. He arched his back against the bed, thrusting his hips towards the ceiling, and he came – [i]hard.[/i] The sudden paroxysms of his muscles spasming and his balls lifting up was nothing like anything that he had felt before, shocking him to his core and leaving him humping air again, again, again. Each thrust of his hips felt like it was pulling something heavier behind, shooting cum up and out and –

Spurt.

Spurt.

Spurt.

Three quick shots of white slipped past his fingers in his foreskin, shooting up and almost hitting the ceiling. It came down with a splash against his chest, his face, his stomach, all thicker and heavier than his usual load, by some way. He gasped for breath at the heated wake-up call, and as he finally came down from that sudden shock of pleasure, he slumped against the bed.

Reality slowly began to set in, as it always did. He was a mess, and he’d probably stink of sex, as well. He shook his head, already imagining going to the shower and trying to make an excuse for another one –

Bding.

A text? This early? He leaned over, checking his phone. It was from Salish. He opened it and glanced at the message.

[i]S: Heading to the doc. Felt something weird and want to be sure it’s nothing bad.

B: Weird? Like, weird how?

S: Weird butt stuff.

B: …Butt stuff?

S: Like someone fucked me all night long. My ass HURTS.

S: Gonna make sure that everything’s good.

S: …Shit. Didn’t mean to go that far. Uh…

S: Pretend I said something less embarrassing.

B: Yeah, yeah. Sure.[/i]

He stared at the screen, barely believing what he was reading. Was Salish –

No, no way. That was a dream. That was [i]only[/i] a dream. There was no way that they had actually gone that far in a dream, nor would it have affected someone else for real.

Except…

His cock was slowly softening, sinking into the extra skin. It wasn’t quite like a sheath, but the more that his cock softened, the further from the end of his foreskin the tip rested. It looked a little too saggy to look like a horse sheath, but it looked…it looked like the start of something like one.

He bit his lips as he looked back at the talisman. The onyx totem just stared back at him, and again, he had the vague, unsettling feeling of horses running through the inside of it, of the light within pushing to get out. He looked away before he could stare into its eyes and lose himself again and dragged himself out of bed.

For now, he had a chance to shower before Salish got back. He was going to take that and make sure that his roommate never found out just how close he’d come to seeing a human completely cum-soaked at the breakfast table.

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

Summary: The transformation continues, and the corruption does, as well. What sort of powers does this talisman have?

Tags: M/M, M/solo, Masturbation, Anal, Dream Sex, Stallion, Human, Transformation, Foreskin, New Flesh, New Attitude, Muscles, Anger, Possession, Series, Orgasm, Cum, Corruption,