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Terramagica

Chapter 05

(A Touch of Fate)

Written by Leo_Todrius

Supported by my Patrons

Crickets and cicadas chirped away in their eternal summer song as the golden afternoon light poured over the Agrian neighborhood. It was the sort of place that unkempt lawns blended into fields of wheat and flat ranch style homes were collected in suburban culdesacs and streets mixed among the grain. Draeth stood in front of his childhood home, holding the demonic touchstone in his hands. His clothes were still wet from the adventure to the underworld while thick bovine bull horns stuck out from his temples. His pants were swollen around the size of his unusual package and the inky darkness was just starting to clear from his eyes.

Why... had he come here? How had he gotten here? He had been in Terramagica with the others, they had been saving Ori and everything had gone blank. Draeth blinked, trying to clear his head, though as he tried, it seemed as if something was cutting through the fog. The troll pendant on his chest grew warmer against his skin and pieces started to come back to him. Draeth's jaw slowly dropped as he remembered being kidnapped, being played with and manipulated and changed, as he remembered the fantasies that a demon had put him through.

"Iago..." Draeth murmured.

"I am glad you remember." A deep, resounding voice commented from the garage. Draeth turned, gasping as he caught sight of the seven foot tall demon standing where he had parked his truck for so many years. His skin was as red as blood, complimented by the short shorn black mohawk running across his scalp and the wild, unkempt bushy beard that descended down to his nipples. Iago's grin was framed by two ivory orc tusks that matched the horns on his head. Like Draeth, he sported tattoos but they were quite different. A tattoo of three demonic masks covered his ample, meaty chest while runes were printed across his right shoulder and another mask tattooed over his left knee. Solid yellow eyes peered back at Draeth, regarding him. In an almost absurd turn of fate, the demon was not dressed in his customary loincloth but instead a simple bath robe.

"What's going on out here?" Another voice questioned, shaking Draeth from his concentration. He turned, eyes widening as he saw his father, his real father, emerging from door to the house, walking up behind the demon. In contrast to both Iago and Draeth, he was skinnier despite having what many would have called a dad bod. Round glasses rested on his nose and a streak of silver ran through his otherwise dark brown hair.

"My dear Marcus, Draeth has come home to visit." Iago said. Marcus lifted his hand, resting it on the small of the demon's back just above where his long spaded tail emerged.

"That's wonderful. Most young men don't visit their dads enough." Marcus said before he stood up on his tip toes and kissed Iago's bearded cheek. Draeth's jaw hung open as he stood there, looking at the demon that had pretended to be his father kissed by his actual father, having no idea where to even begin.

****

Golden light... Amber, shades of red, hints of silver... Even with his eyes closed, Ori could sense it filtering through the windows of the shop. He slowly opened his eyes again, appreciating with every ounce of his being just how wonderful it was to be alive again. He held that moment and cherished it as much as he could, knowing it had come with a price. The elf looked out of the windows, restored and replaced at long last. The street outside looked so perfect drenched in the haze of the afternoon sun. He turned his head again, taking in Terramagica's newest sight.

The sharp corner of the shop had been remodeled, replacing the ninety degree angle with a framed curve that softened the exterior facade. What had surprised Ori most was that it had not been curved glass placed in that space, at least not clear glass. Sagen had responded to Draeth's disappearance with rage and fury and an energy he had not had in over forty years. He'd retreated into his archives and returned with magics ancient and forgotten. He'd combined spells with relics, melting down artifacts and mixing in half a dozen herbs and minerals. Ori had been transfixed, but nothing had prepared him for what had been produced out of that furious concoction, even as it was mounted into place.

With great care, the satyr construction workers finished the curved corner of the shop, sliding two panels of stained glass into their permanent home. The panels were settled, sealed and braced. It had been specially crafted so that no amount of vibration from the roads would disturb it. The late afternoon light carried through the clear windows only to catch and illuminate the stained glass. Ori was almost mesmerized by the rich orange citrine octopus reaching upward with uncoiling tentacles, reaching through the rich purple waters of the distant Hydian coast.

The octopus didn't seem out of place in a coastal town and it gave the shop a rare tie to the beach life that it usually lacked, but Ori knew it was much more. Every inch of that window was brimming with ancient protection magic, keeping the store safe from anyone that would try to breach the perimeter... or to do evil from within. Ori shuddered a little as he thought of the last fleeting glimpse he had seen of Draeth, how different his friend had been. Then again, many of his friends seemed different.

Loud, echoing hooves clomped down the stairs as Sagen descended with a rapid pace. Sagen hit the ground floor and kept going, moving right over to the corner of the shop. His little goat tail flicked about, his muscular, wooly brown ass cheeks clenching and unclenching. His fit, firm, healthy torso glistened with sweat. Despite being a happily mated man, Oriron couldn't help but appreciate the perfect v of muscles in his shoulder blades, nor the faint glam-shell like muscles just above his hips. His figure tapered like an hourglass and as Sagen turned, it was even harder to turn away. His pecs were succulent, his abs were fit, and only a faint trail of hair climbed up around his navel from his furry lower half.

"Make sure the edges are aligned with the tungsten frame, the window needs the perfect resonance." Sagen said, his flaxen colored eyes almost as bright as the afternoon son. The older satyrs outside nodded numbly, though it was hard to concentrate after seeing Sagen like that. His horns were far less pronounced, only about three inches long. They had not yet developed the ridges of an elder satyr. His scruffy, short beard was gone but his long goatee remained, hanging down a good five inches from his youthful chin. Even his ears seemed young, perfectly pert and just a bit pointed, though less than Ori's.

"All of this must have been costly." Ori said. Sagen turned distractedly before nodding.

"I hadn't wanted to use that many things from my collection, but without the Abyssian Feldspar, I had to get creative." Sagen said. Ori blushed, his pearl colored cheeks a bit more rosy than normal.

"I'm so sorry sir, I should have tried harder, or been smarter." Ori apologized. Sagen looked surprised at that and moved over, resting his hand on the elf's shoulder.

"No, it isn't your fault... In fact, I think it might have been a plot specifically targeted at Terramagica." Sagen said softly, "There are few objects more protective than feldspar and I think they knew that. The joke is on them, though. Instead of dealing with one protection they have to deal with eight now." Sagen smirked, looking over at the newly mounted stained glass octopus as it was polished.

"I still can't help but feel like it's my fault." Ori said. Sagen shook his head.

"Something is going on, and it isn't your fault other than the fact that you work here... Draeth was taken and then returned, no doubt to steal the touchstone. As for the person that turned you to stone, it wasn't any ordinary gorgon. There are half a dozen remedies to work on petrification, yet none of that worked. If I hadn't had the touchstone, I..." Sagen trailed off.

"Wouldn't have had a way to save me." Ori finished. Sagen nodded sadly. "The question now is if the two are connected or not. Whoever took Draeth obviously wanted the touchstone, but is it related to who attacked the store, or do we have two mysteries?" Ori asked.

****

Draeth couldn't think of a time when he had been less comfortable in his own childhood home. Draeth sat in a high back chair usually reserved for guests, looking over at Iago spread out on the couch, his crimson arm along the back. The house seemed different, everything off from where his father normally kept things. It was little nuances that indicated another presence, another resident, another inhabitant. Even the food was different. The fridge was piled high with exotic cheeses and the shelves were stocked with ample supplies of wines and spirits with labels emblazoned in languages Draeth had never seen before, let alone read.

"I suppose I should be the one to speak first. Whatever is going on between you two is thick enough to cut with a knife." Marcus said as he emerged from the kitchen with a charcuterie board. He set it down on the table between them all before sitting next to the demon. Iago brought his arm down across Marcus' shoulders. Draeth looked at the fancy meat and cheeses on the table in disbelief. His father was a takeout fiend, focused on his work and research. He never had time for such frivolities.

"This demon is manipulating you, dad. He manipulated me. Everyone manipulates me!" Draeth protested. Marcus scowled.

"Draeth Mazra, that is NOT how we treat guests in this house." Marcus snapped.

"We don't HAVE guests in this house, dad, you never had time for anyone to come over!" Draeth exclaimed. Marcus opened his mouth to rebut, but Iago gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"He's right, Marcus..." Iago said, stunning both generations of the Mazra family. Iago took a breath, "It's time I come clean with everything." he admitted. Draeth's lips tightened with hesitation. Iago took a long breath, his tattooed chest rising to hold it all. "A long time ago, everything was taken from me. In an instant I had lost my memories, my history, my identity. I was standing on a street corner with no idea who I was, having to learn the hard way how to survive. I was an errand boy for some racketeers, at least until they realized I had a way of... persuading my marks."

"That thing you did with me, the memory manipulation?" Draeth asked. Marcus seemed to be hanging on every word, learning so much about his partner.

"They knew I was wasted on small time stuff so they brought me into negotiating bigger and bigger things, but word got out. A big fight broke out between the biggest bosses of two factions. In the end I just made them forget me..." Iago trailed off, "Years passed and I found ways to make a living, but I did my research too. Were there others that lost their memories like me? Others that had my abilities? Eventually I stumbled across the legend of the Sifters."

"That... was a mythological legend of beings that wove the first fabric of Zago. Some stories described them as using a loom to lay down history while others say they sifted through dreams to find the pearls that would become memories." Marcus said.

"Sifters, supposedly, could do more than just manipulate memory. They could touch a person's fate and history... But there were limits. It wasn't time travel, it wasn't set in stone... and whatever it was, somehow I broke it." Iago said.

"Broke what?" Marcus asked in surprise.

"The rules..." Iago said softly, "Banishment and being stripped of one's memories had to be the punishment. Everything I had been was placed inside a touchstone and secreted away so I could never remember, so I could never recover who I had been..."

"Until Sagen acquired it and took it to the shop." Draeth said, "You tried to break in that day, but you couldn't get past the defenses so you took me. You played around with me and twisted me and sent me back like some double agent so I could do the dirty work for you. My only question is, what are you doing with my dad? Is this some sick kind of insurance?" Draeth asked. If it was possible for a red skinned demon to blush, Iago did. His cheeks turned purple and his yellow eyes seemed almost orange.

"It isn't what you think... It isn't a manipulation. It's genuine..." Iago said. Draeths scoffed but Marcus looked at the demon on his couch.

"I need you to be completely honest with me, with both of us." Marcus said. Iago's clawed fists tightened.

"I am, this is the underworld's own truth. I won't deny that I used my abilities on Draeth, that I had a motive to retrieve the touchstone, but when I touched his mind and saw this place, when I saw what a normal life could be, it was... appealing. At first I just thought that it was feedback from how much Draeth had fought me, resisting so many variations. One day I came up here because I just had to look, I had to see it, and I saw you through that circle window at the back of the house, toiling away. You sat there sunup to sun down, toiling away. You had this big house in this big world and you were as trapped at your desk as I was in my own mind. I didn't want you to be alone anymore." Iago whispered. Marcus murmured at that and leaned over, kissing Iago's lips right between his orcish tusks.

Draeth blinked slowly, still not entirely sure he believed the demon. Still, certain facts could not be ignored. The bard reached into his vest and slowly withdrew the artifact, the rings of gold, silver and bronze hugging the translucent black circular slab in the center. As he brought it out, the stone began to grow warmer, the black starting to lighten in color. Iago sat upright on the couch, looking at it longingly. Draeth eyed the demon shrewdly.

"What happens if I give this to you?" Draeth asked.

"I... remember who I am..." Iago whispered. Draeth frowned.

"I don't mean that, I mean to my dad, to me, to the world!" Draeth said. Iago contemplated for a long moment.

"The touchstone won't make me forget the life I've lived without it. Everything I've experienced has shaped me, but it will remind me where I've come from and what my roots are." Iago said. Marcus wilted slightly.

"Will you still love me?" Marcus asked. Iago reached out and touched his cheek.

"How could I not love a face like that." Iago said. Draeth let out a slight huff. As awkward and strange as it was to see his dad in love, it was many degrees more difficult that it was with a demon that had posed as his own father while also corrupting him and tainting him in devious ways. The last thing he wanted to do was to reward the demon for what he had done, and yet the connection his dad had with Iago was so... genuine. It didn't seem the same as what had happened to him. The gears turned in Draeth's head.

"If this is going to reshape your life, I think we need to do it properly, don't you?" Draeth asked. A small smile crossed Iago's lips.

"Brilliant. Like father, like son." the demon said, though he hadn't indicated just which father he was referring to.

****

Despite many efforts to do so, no one had ever successfully counted just how many places there were to eat in Breim. There were, of course, top ten lists, but no one had ever gotten a complete listing. Even equipped with lists of the locations that had food licenses, there were more that seemed to ghost in and out of existence. There were little-known places passed along only by word of mouth. There were places that seemed to only crop up on rainy, dreary days offering warm food that brought light to the soul. Mahno had made it a point to one day go to all of them or disappear in the effort, but today he was content to be eating dinner with Ori in one of his favorite places.

Simurgh's Soma was a cozy place on the edge of the dwarvish district. The decor was made of rich, warm, dark woods and wonderfully wrought metals. The only lighting was recessed, giving no direct light sources but an ample ambiance. The menu catered to almost every type of creature in Breim, but that did not keep wayward eyes from watching Ori in astonishment as the elf tore into extra-rare cuts of steak, his teeth gnashing through the meat with near abandon. Despite the spectacle, Mahno felt his heart flutter. He couldn't have been more in love with his boyfriend.

"Fuck that's hot." Mahno whispered. Ori looked up, his teeth having shifted into fangs as he ate. He looked around slowly, realizing that the other patrons were staring because most elves elected to only eat meat on special occasions at the most, favoring vegetarian diets instead. Ever since he had been turned into a werewolf, though, Ori couldn't help but share his lover's taste.

"How is being a messy eater hot?" Ori asked. Mahno grinned, his amber eyes glinting a bit as his tail slapped the booth seat behind him.

"It just is. You don't show much wolf most of the time, so I love when I can see it." he clarified.

"It's the elf metabolism, I guess... It asserts itself pretty strongly, but the full moon is next week, right? You'll get all the wolf you can handle then." Ori said.

"I look forward to it." Mahno said, lifting up a large cut of his boneless pork chop, letting it drop into his mouth. His fangs cut through the meat, his bushy copper colored sideburns only accentuating each long, gratuitous chew. Most of the other patrons looked away, though an envious gaggle of teenage boys watched dreamily from their booth. Mahno might have tried to show off a bit, smelling their pheromones, but another scent was souring the mood. He could smell the worry dripping off of Ori. He swallowed his meat and reached over, resting his hand on Ori's. Ori looked up, startled for a second before he pieced together what happened and smiled shamefully.

"I'm still worried about Draeth. Sagen can't track him yet. It's like whatever happened when he disappeared the first time made it so Sagen's charms don't work. I guess he changed too much. The police are on it, though." Ori explained. Mahno, however, huffed.

"Those pigs?" Mahno murmured, "I'll ask around. Maybe I'll take a few scenic routes after my shift, see if I can hear anything about the big guy."

"I'd appreciate it, just don't do anything risky. I don't want anything to happen to you. Things have just been too dangerous these last few weeks." Ori said. Mahno puffed out his chest a bit.

"Nothing's going to happen to me, I'm a badass, remember?" he grinned. Ori smirked at that and leaned over the table, giving Mahno a kiss. Mahno grabbed onto the elf's head, his clawed fingers digging into that silky blond hair as their lips parted. Their tongues pressed and twisted, wrestling for dominance. Their saliva was boiling hot as their faces mashed and gnashed. The kiss lasted for seconds, moments, almost a full minute before it eventually broke. Ori sat back down all prim and proper like any elf might have. Mahno, however, leaned back with one hand sliding across the back of the booth, the other reaching down to fondle his full, strained wolf bulge. He didn't care who saw. He was in love.

****

A light, sweet breeze rustled through the field of wheat. The sound of it brushing together merged with the distant sound of the ocean and the symphony of cicadas. With all of that white noise, it made it strange that the three men standing in the field were so quiet. Marcus was, perhaps, the meekest of all. He was thinner than his son and over a foot shorter than Iago. He'd never been a farmer and had selected the house on the Agrian hillside because it offered such beautiful views of the fields and the ocean at the sametime. Now it almost felt too lonely, too isolating as he questioned everything.

Draeth stood nearby as if some sort of guard or sentry. Iago's story had been compelling, but not enough to change what he had done to Draeth - and yet, while Draeth tried to hold onto his justifiable apprehension, he couldn't deny that the changes had felt so good. Chryon had gotten so good at suckling from his udder balls and filling his kitsune tummy full of demon bull milk. It was the most manly Draeth had ever felt... Maybe, equipped with his touchstone, Iago would just disappear back to whatever life he had come from and Draeth could help his dad pick up the pieces. That only left Iago.

It had been almost two hundred years. He'd seen Breim grow and prosper, stepping forward from a land of pure magic into a metropolis of science, industry and culture. It wasn't easy to forge a future without a past, but he had done it. He looked over at Marcus and how terrified he looked. Was he scared of what Draeth had said? Perhaps Marcus was afraid of the criminal past that he had shared. Iago hoped that it was because Marcus didn't want to lose what they had found together. The memory of their first kiss in the gilded gazebo in the elvish quarter was his most precious memory, and it was almost potent enough to make his life's quest seem too risky... almost.

"I am ready." Iago said, the sweet wind blowing through his well groomed black beard, his eyes a bright, glowing yellow despite the setting sun painting the heavens in shades of citrine, pearl, coral and violet. Draeth pulled the touchstone from his vest once more, the stone still warm from where it had rested against his chest.

"After you get this, you won't ever harm anyone at Terramagica or do anything against my dad or me, right?" Draeth asked. Iago smiled softly and bowed his head.

"I care too much about you and your father to do that. I would never intentionally harm any of you." Iago said, "I just... want to know where I came from, what my story is."

A smooch as Draeth wanted to hold onto his negative emotions, he couldn't. That's all that any of them wanted... Their own story, a peaceful life, to be able to move forward. Draeth remembered how Oriron had inspired him to be more forgiving, and as tough as it seemed, he couldn't restrain himself now. His hand extended the touchstone out to the demon, watching his tail swish back and forth with anticipation before his large, red, clawed hand reached out and grasped the handle. Energy poured out of his body, traveling through the handle and into the bronze ring, closing it in a circle before leaking into the silver, then finally the gold. Draeth let go as Iago pulled the touchstone closed, grabbing onto the other handle as well as he lifted it up.

The shifting, seeping energy finally touched the translucent stone in the center. The marbled veins flashed to white hot as the black grew brighter and brighter. Despite the light, Iago could see a reflection in the surface of it... a reflection of a young orc boy. The reflection was like a rock thrown into a placid pond and the ripples were memories as they unfolded outward. He had seen his mother fall into the river, to stay beneath the surface longer than anyone could survive, but a wandering traveler took pity on the crying boy... He pulled his hood back to reveal horns, then he reached not into the river but into fate itself to reweave the outcome. His mother had lived, and he had gained a new father.

That change, that shift in his own destiny had altered Iago's course forever. His mother had become a great inventor, helping to build the nation's first electric capacitors and young Iago had learned his father's trade, honing his skills and instincts to become a Shifter as well. His skin had turned from green to red. He'd gained horns to compliment his tusks. He'd been shown off at functions as the child of a great prodigy. It all fell into place so easily, as if a thousand shards of glass had been dropped and somehow fit themselves back into a window. It all unspooled before him, leading up until the final moment, the moment that had cost him everything...

Iago's lips curled in disdain at first, then pain, even betrayal. His father had... left... His mother's heart had been broken. She would have been strong enough to deal with it if her life's work hadn't fallen into jeopardy at the same time. The pressure from both sides was enormous and Iago knew he had to try and help any way he could. Her work was too complex, too multifaceted to influence, but his father... Iago had turned his powers on another shifter to try and re-weave fate, but the consequences had been dire. To change his fate was to unravel every life he had touched, including his own. To prevent countless lives from being undone, the tribe had removed his memories, his powers, and had cast him out.

Iago threw his head back and let out a duophonic howl that resonated and shook the ground. Draeth and Marcus covered their ears, but they could still feel it in their bones. The heat ebbed from the touchstone as the metal grew cool to the touch and the stone turned dark again. All of the excess energy exploded from Iago's shoulders, rising up in a haze of sparkles that carried on the air like embers from a fire before fading. Iago stood there in the field, panting. His massive chest rose and fell before his eyes opened. Despite the lack of pupils or iris, they looked pained and forlorn. Marcus sniffed as he rushed over, resting his head against the valley between the demon's firm pectorals.

"It's alright, you still have me. You still have us." Marcus said. A hot, sweet tear rolled down Iago's cheek as he held Marcus' head to his chest, stroking the human's cheek and ear fondly. Draeth looked away, feeling incredibly awkward. He turned to start walking back to the house, feeling as if Iago wasn't a threat anymore, as if he might have been less of a threat now than he had ever been. He'd made it a few strides before he heard the demon's voice reverberate in his chest.

"Draeth, wait." Iago said softly. Draeth paused and turned around, the setting sun catching the stubble on his double chin, blowing across his bare, tattooed arms.

"What is it?" Draeth asked softly.

"What do you want?" Iago asked. Draeth looked confused.

"I already said what I want. I just want my friends and family to be safe." he said softly. Iago shook his head, letting Marcus lift his own.

"No, I mean, what I did to you was... wrong. The ends don't justify the means. Do you want me to put you back the way you were, or do you want something else?" Iago asked. Draeth hesitated, his jaw opening a little at that.

"Wh-what? What do you mean, something else?" Draeth asked. Iago smiled a little.

"I owe you and your father everything. Nothing I do will change your history, but if you wanted a different fate, or at least a nudge in a different direction, I have my powers back. Whatever you want, I owe you my life and my love." Iago said. Draeth stood there as the sun sank toward the horizon, the warm colors of the sky slowly growing cool as purples, blues and greens spread across the atmosphere. Greenish-gold light began to pulse from the wheatfield as the cicadas started to glow, adding a light show to their musical performance.

"You love my dad, right?" Draeth asked. Iago's eyes widened.

"I do, yes." Iago said.

"Dad, you love Iago, right? Honestly?" Draeth asked.

"Y-yes, son. I never... thought... I could love this way again after your mother, but I feel happier than I have in a long time." Marcus said. Draeth considered.

"You can't change the past, but you can make a good future. I want you two to be happy together, to live a loving and fulfilled life." Draeth said. Iago smiled and held Marcus close.

"That's a wonderful gift, but a selfless one. What about you, Draeth, isn't there anything that you want?" Iago asked. Draeth considered long and hard before he nodded.

"If you really can change fate, and you're becoming part of our family, I wouldn't object to being a little more like my demon dad. Maybe just a bit, here and there." Draeth considered. Iago grinned almost a little mischievously.

"I am sure that is something I can manage." he purred, "What you have... and a few drops more?" he asked. Draeth blushed, reaching up to scratch at his cheek a little.

"Don't get too carried away, but yeah, a little bit here and there. Might give me more street cred." Draeth said. Iago nodded at that.

"That sounds perfect to me." Iago said. Draeth nodded at that. Marcus, however, pulled back from Iago and put a hand on his hip.

"I'm glad you two made up, but after that display I need a good meal and a good lie down. Let's get back inside before it gets too cold." Marcus said before he turned and started tromping through the wheat, heading back towards the house. He made it as far as Draeth before reaching to put his hand on his son's shoulder, "And I'm sure your friends are worried sick. You should tell them that you're alright." he added before continuing. Draeth stood there in the field, his eyes scrunching shut as he realized just how sick Oriron and Sagen had to be with worry.

****

The door to Draeth's loft eased open as he stepped in, dropping the keys to his truck onto an end table strategically placed. His place was eclectic, squeezed in between two buildings in the factory district. It was barely wide enough for a garage with an apartment stacked up on top of it, but for Draeth it was home. The air outside was sickly sweet from the droughts and potions the factory was making, but at least his place was pretty air tight. Draeth shut the door behind him and turned around, stopping dead as he saw someone else in his apartment - and that someone was naked.

Chryon stood by the fridge, his firm, fit body backlit by the lightbulb inside the great white receptacle. His twin foxtails floofed themselves a bit, the kitsune's aching canine cock bobbing up and down ever so slightly with each heartbeat. Chryon had let his strawberry blond hair start growing down longer than his shoulders and his split rust colored mustache curved as he grinned, seeing Draeth come back. Draeth's jaw dropped a bit.

"Fuck..." he whispered. Chryon only grinned more.

"Yes please!" the kitsune smirked before he ran over and stood on his tip toes to kiss Draeth. Draeth murmured at that, finding the kiss warm, welcoming, and most delightful. He also felt the clawed groping of his groin welcome as well, feeling his perpetually half-hard cock start to firm up to its full might. Chryon looked up at Draeth, "Are you okay, though? I heard your friends were looking for you."

"It's a bit of a misunderstanding. I let them know what was going on, but right now I just want to be here, with you." Draeth said. Chryon murmured at that, using his fingers to dexterously unbutton and unzip Draeth's pants, languidly drawing the zipper down around the over-full bulge that contained Draeth's udder balls.

"Good, because I don't want to share you with anyone. I want to have you all to myself." Chryon whispered happily. Draeth moaned at that, shrugging off his spiked vest, tossing it over onto the floor by his guitars. The kitsune moaned, grabbing a hold of Draeth's well stretched underwear, pulling it down to reveal his prize. It had been a miracle that the bard had been able to keep that thick, fat cock hidden, let alone those huge, plump udder balls.

"It's been too long, I'm so full..." Draeth murmured, reaching down to give one of his teats a squeeze. A spurt of musky milk erupted out and Chryon panted, seeing it spent. He let out a growl and then pushed into Draeth's belly, nuzzling and nudging him with his head until Draeth dropped down onto the edge of his twin bed. The kitsune's twin tails swung back and forth, brushing the floor as he dropped to his knees, leaning in.

A moan escaped the human's lips as one of his teats was slurped up by the kitsune, but he growled even more as clawed fingers wrapped around his cock. One by one, finger by finger, a hand closed around the root of his cock... and then another climbed atop it. Chryon started to tug and suck as his hands rose up along Draeth's shaft, then plunged back down. In many ways it reminded Draeth of an oil well. The mechanisms worked to prime the pump and to bring everything to the surface, and it seemed Chryon was ready to be a well oiled machine.

Up and down, in and out. Up and down, in and out. The only things that changed were the tempo, the pressure and the intensity. Draeth reached out, bracing his hands on either side of his bed. He sort of felt guilty he couldn't do more to please Chryon when he was like this, but he had admitted that the milk was so good. With so much milk so close to the surface, it didn't take long until the kitsune was gulping and slurping the savory cream down.

The kitsune's fur bushed up as he tasted how sweet and salty, how musky and rich, how potent and delightful and full bodied Draeth's milk was. Even without being touched, the kitsune's canine cock bloated at the base, forming a fat knot as the head plumped. So much blood rushed in and the flesh grew so dark that it looked like a pepper. As many knew, the only thing to help with a hot pepper was milk.

Draeth moaned, lifting his hips a little, thrusting into the double hands working his cock. It felt so good to be with someone special like Chryon after such a weird week. He moaned and bucked into it, panting harder and harder, feeling his body throb and tingle. Chryon had been going to town, but he knew there was a lot of milk to choose from. He suddenly changed teats, going for another, tugging and sucking with such force that it felt like his teat was growing longer and fatter in Chryon's mouth.

"Oh fuck... Oh babe, that's amazing..." Draeth moaned, throwing his head back, his arms keeping him upright. He tried to hold on, but the pleasure was so good that he couldn't. Draeth collapsed back onto his bed, his legs over the edge, his groin at the kitsune's disposal. As Draeth writhed in the tangle of his blanket and sheets, he wasn't able to see that the top of his cock was rising taller, slipping out of the top of Chryon's hands. He didn't see the flesh darkening, at first from blood but then as dark blotches spread around it. He could, however, feel that his erection was the hardest of his life, feeling so good that it hurt.

Draeth gritted his teeth, moaning. The edges of his fat cock head kept pushing upwards, but the tip didn't quite grow as fast, almost as if something was holding it back. The uneven pressure served to blunt and flatten Draeth's huge cock. The edges bloated out from the firm stock of his cock while his urethra grew as well. The black stain spread upward, hesitating on the edge before spilling over the top. His tool was mighty, bigger than any human's. It would have been easy to say he was hung like a horse because he was. Draeth's huge cock was equine in nature, growing upwards from udder balls, resting against a well rounded, well fed hairy belly.

Unaware of the changes, or perhaps unwilling to look, Chryon hadn't let up. The kitsune had fed off of all four teats before making another round through the. His hands worshipped Draeth's cock, not reaching all the way up to its new full potential. Up and down, back and forth. The heat, the rhythm, the friction - all of it was building pressure in Draeth, working him towards the edge, working him towards the most intense orgasm of his life... but the pressure wasn't just going to his groin, it was going to his head too.

It would have been an understatement to say that Draeth had been awake longer in the last week than he had in months. He was supposed to be a night owl but he'd been on one adventure after another. At first he thought the headache was his quest catching up with him. As it grew more intense, he wondered if it might have been a blood pressure thing. He moaned, both from pleasure and pain, his eyes clenched shut. For the third time in recent days, something began to irritate the skin over his temples, the skin growing red and angry as it rubbed back and forth over growing lumps.

Sips hadn't been enough, even pints hadn't been enough, but Chryon had consumed nearly a gallon of bull milk from Draeth's udder balls. The taste was amazing, but the kitsune knew he had to cap it off with the perfect desert course. When his eyes opened and he saw the mammoth pillar of masculinity before him, his canine cock gushed with cum in an unexpected orgasm. Chryon had never seen anything so handsome, so masculine, nor so big. Chryon pulled off of Draeth's dribbling teat and slowly rose up like a leviathan from the deep, his eyes perhaps larger than his stomach. He kept pumping Draeth's cock even as the bard moaned and thrashed back and forth.

A hint of the kitsune's muzzle emerged as his face distorted, pushing outward, making more room. Skin and bone and muscle shifted, a bristle of strawberry blond and rust fur spreading across, meeting up with white fur along the chin as he took on a more animalistic head. His ears migrated to the top of his skull and Chryon opened his muzzle wide before plunging down around the horse cock. Like a flash in a frying pan, Draeth realized in an instant what a monster his monster had become, feeling that his cock was at least double the length he had been born with. Realization poured into pleasure and it all swirled until the pressure in his head could take no more.

"FUCK!" Draeth howled, not because of an orgasm, but because horns were sprouting from his head. The sharp tips curved their way through before making more room. With each pump of the kitsune's paws, each slurp and suck of his hungry mouth, the horns pushed out further. Draeth's eyes were half shut, feeling the strangest, most wonderful feeling of his life as the horns extruded from his skull. It was slow, methodical, gradual and steady. It wasn't slowed or sped up by his heartbeat or anything that the fox did. His horns simply were, growing outward on either side of his head, getting ever so much wider as they pushed outward.

Chryon's tongue teased his slit, his muzzle almost long enough to meet the hands furiously riding up and down on Draeth's cock. His udder balls had been milked, but they still served their original purpose as well. He was an animal, a beast of burden, meant to do what he was best at and meant to breed. Draeth could barely turn his head more than a few inches one either side, his bull horns so full and prominent.

Despite being one of the biggest boys in school, Draeth wasn't sure if he had ever felt tough. He'd fallen in love with dwarvish heavy metal bands, he went to the movies to celebrate the triumphs of the action heroes, he dressed up as berserkers with skull masks for the Day of the Lost, but he'd never felt like this. He was a beast, an animal, he was more than just a human that could spin a good story. He wasn't just a bard. He was Draeth Mazra. He had horns, he had a cock anyone would envy. He had the best milk of the entire factory district. He was everything he had ever wanted to be and more.

"Fuck YES!" Draeth howled before he came, his mighty cock suddenly exploding with a rush of cum so intense that it squirted out from Chryon's lips, splattering out in every direction. The kitsune doubled down, sinking his muzzle lower, bringing the head of Draeth's huge cock up to the back of his throat. The kitsune was filling himself directly from the tap, gulping down every swallow. Draeth shuddered and moaned, feeling a wave of heat ripple through his body. Sweat glistened across his fat pecs and his round belly, soaking the nape of his neck. If that was just one or two drops, he couldn't wait to see what Iago had gifted him with when it really came down to it.

****

The moon had risen high over Breim, influencing the ocean with its own brand of magic. Draeth was safe, Ori was restored, and Terramagica was more protected than it had ever been... but Sagen couldn't sleep. Not only was the mystery lingering on if the two attacks were connected, but the satyr had more energy and vitality than he had in years. He'd left his curtains wide open, the four square windows looking out over the neighborhood. The street lights that ran along the parkway were a greenish blue hue while the lights right outside the building had a more orange glow that blended with the amber and yellow lights of the other businesses. All that light and energy, Sagen wondered if that's what Draeth felt like on his night shifts.

The satyr paced back and forth, his newly unblemished hooves following well worn grooves in the floor. His tail flicked, one hand holding a tablet computer while the other swung back and forth. Sagen had run into a dead end when it came to Iago. It seemed no one had been able to keep any lasting records on him since he could make them forget. The idea of a gorgon that could do a permanent petrification was even more of a dead end. Curing and treating such magics had been a cornerstone of what brought so many different species together to form the nation of Zago.

Sagen tried countless theories as he paced, each one with its own flaws. None of it made sense, none of it fit together, and all of it was too hard to focus on with the growing itch beneath his tail. Sagen grunted softly with irritation before he reached back, his fingers trying to find the source of the irritation. Just below his tail and just above the mouth of the valley that led between his furry butt cheeks, Sagen's finger found swollen flesh. As he pressed on it, one of the glands there expressed a silky, slick, oily substance... along with a blinding pleasure.

Without any way to stop himself, the satyr bleated out as he fell forward onto his knees, his finger coated in the slickest, slipperiest substance he had ever encountered. Sagen's pupils grew until the black nearly took over his eyes entirely. Blood rushed to his groin, his cock pushing free of his sheath, sliding out until it was fully engorged. Even Sagen's pucker swelled up, ready to greet whatever came to visit. For a moment all Sagen could do was imagine being fucked from sun up to sun down and all over again that night. For a moment he was lost in instinct, in his mind, in his needs. He felt the heat of the rut coming for him, but it wasn't just any heat. As he caught his breath and his eyes returned to normal, Sagen groaned softly, panting hard. He closed his eyes in dismay, bowing his head.

"Of all the things to have to deal with..." Sagen groaned, bringing his finger up to smell it. Surely enough, it seemed his body was producing its own lubricant. Sagen gave a weary, wry chuckle, "I have to graduate again..." he murmured softly, already thinking of everything that entailed.