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A full moon always drew me out on wistful walks. The Tumamoc Hiking Trail wasn't far, and at night the whole, rocky hillside emptied out. I liked that. Just the quiet of coyotes, the occasional brush of air, the sharp chill biting my ankles. I had underestimated the desert's beauty before moving here: the expectation of a dull, brown expanse yielded to the green of brush, scrub, cacti, and wildflowers.

That beauty bloomed in the moonlight, and that company soothed all the chaos in my mind. It had been a hard week. Old and new anxieties ate at my stomach, grief stabbed at my chest, but the moon became a balm. I was deep into the trailhead, well away from any human voice, and the isolation the dark brought on made me think living could be bearable again.

I stopped at an overlook. Gazing out on the city and the expansive dark, my melancholy sickly sweet--like the meaty breath behind me.

I started then froze. I knew something loomed behind me. I heard its breathing, bestial as a bear's. Nothing that big should exist out here. I couldn't move. A digit, leathery and padded, touched the back of my neck. It hooked inside the collar of my jacket and tugged it down, brushed my hair aside. Exposed, the flesh of my nape quickly became covered in goosebumps. I stayed still as any prey caught, awaiting their end.

A warm, wet nose--a canine's--shoved against my neck. The lips of a muzzle kissed there, and I shivered. I could not imagine how big that muzzle had to be. Slowly, the maw opened. Sharp, ragged teeth glided around my flesh, slipping across my throat as this beast wrapped its maw around my throat. I was trembling, still unable to move, to process the warmth and heat of this thing. Its tongue slid along my skin, slimy with drool and roughly textured. If that jaw cinched shut it might very well sever my head from my body.

It slid away instead. Soon as my neck tasted bare, moonlit air, bile blossomed in my throat. Nausea and dizziness made me swoon, and I would have fallen but a paw the size of a dinner tray caught me. I groaned, fighting that need to vomit as the beast moved close. It hugged me to its big furry body, and licked the back of my throat.

"Sh-sh, little one," it spoke. The voice, husky and seductive, gentle and warm. "Precious one," it cooed, a lullaby, "Moonlit as me, surrender, there is beauty in letting go." Such strange words. Practically incantations. I twisted weakly against him. His voice, his scent, undeniably male, and he allowed me to face him: body three times my mass, covered in a heavy pelt of silver fur. Eyes yellow as a low hanging moon. A werewolf-like creature, but the proportions slightly different. Massive certainly, but he was more gamely than a wolf, snout slighter, closer to a coyote.

"I am Choir," he said. "You, my little bird, are mine. There's nothing to fear."

Choir's words sapped any remaining fear from me. His body radiated heat. A comfort in the brisk night. His scent was a dusky petrichor: windblown sand inside a gusting storm. His paws cradled me, and I realized I had gone limp in his grip, but he held me so effortlessly I had not noticed my weakness. My surrender.

He spoke like a lover would soothing their partner from a nightmare. "You have waited, and you are ready, aren't you?"

My throat stung, dry. Tears threatened the corners of my eyes. I had waited so long.

"Then I will make you mine. I will make us one." A vow of devotion. He burrowed into my shoulder and took a sharp inhale. His nostrils wetly flared against my skin and he growled. "This scent I'll always remember. Tonight will be the last night it is. You understand?"

I did, and my body finally came alive. It thrusted itself against him. Choir's teeth closed around my chest, between my breasts, and his head yanked back. His fangs shredded bra and blouse alike. My tits exposed in the night air only a moment before his fat tongue, thick as my wrist, slicked across one. His rough tastebuds made my nipples prickle with sensation. I squirmed in his grip, his maw enveloping my right breast. My areola between his lips, his tongue lashing my nip, he suckled against me. I felt strange warmth flush my chest. A tense aching, a growing pain, my back arched with me groaning to the night sky.

Milk, what should be alien to my body, spilled from my teat. Choir sucked as a nursing pup would. A rumble in his chest vibrated through my body as the heat in my chest grew. Desire, lust already clouded myself, any judgement. Surely this dream, this encounter could bring nothing but joy. In one big paw Choir held me while the other tugged off the long skirt I wore. I helped reflexively, pushing down my panties, wiggling out of my jacket. My cock ached in the night air as Choir snapped my panties from between my knees with a single digit.

Then his grip adjusted. The world spun as he turned me over. Blood rushed to my face, legs spread flat to his chest as he held me upside down against him. I grabbed his thighs for purchase, the digitigrade legs coated in thick, soft fur. I had expected it to be coarse, but as my body pressed flat to his, it was lush and soft. A slight bit oily, but otherwise soft as my own hair.

And marveled by his fur, and mastered by my disorientation, I did not immediately notice what hung so tantalizingly close to my face: his sheath. The furry pouch already matched the thickness of my calf, so I could not imagine how my body would take what was inside it. His testes hung below it, each heavy nut the size of cantaloupe, almost as big as my head. I only need to curl inward to come face to face with Choir's sheath.

Its scent cleared my head. Muscles tense from being turned over went slack, relaxing more with each breath. All my body focused on was keeping me in place before that majesty of maleness. Acrid enough my eyes almost watered, that salty, meaty smell ravished my mind. I moaned, my cock dripping precum down my belly.

I did not even notice my bubbly butt spread wide by two padded digits. Choir burrowed his snout into my taint, breathing deep the earthier notes of my scent. I watched his sheath lift and fall, a massive twitch from the meat. Choir had a hunger for me as well. His tongue glided across my flesh again, noting how I tasted here. Sweet sweat, mustier, and when his lips kissed my rear I in turn kissed his sheath's puckered opening.

Small hairs on the furry pouch tickled my cupid's bow as I made out with the strange opening. Pinched shut as it was, I needed to wrap a hand around the sheath, peeling it ever so slightly back. That opening parted like a pair of lips, and I rushed my tongue inside. I had always been accused of being a forceful kisser, too quick to tongue, but I loved the taste of my lovers. It was what I always craved in moments of intimacy: the taste of their mouths, their skin, their privates, and their bodily fluids.

Choir's taste made me gag, so strong and potent. Thick, pungently spiced, the cloying flavor practically salted the ground of my tastebuds. I was not sure my tongue would recover, would want to recover. I whimpered, tears beading my eyes as I continued to french his sheath. That opening barely yielded to my tongue, flesh tight as foreskin around the soft, heavy prize inside. I lapped around and across his cock, and it twitched and throbbed, so delightfully lively. Blood coursed to his maleness, and it pushed against my lips, against his opening, trading one tight orifice for another.

Meanwhile, Choir sampled me with similar, if less musk-drunk, enthusiasm. He lapped up the sweat on my balls, my taint, he kissed and worshipped my pucker. Teased the tender flesh till it became so pliable he wedged his tongue inside me.

I had not been ready. Mouth half full of sharp, metallic tasting canine cock, I moaned and quivered against him. His maw opened, and drool fell in slimy strings across my rump. It looked as if he planned to devour me, but his maw only came this close so that muscle could pillage my passage. My ass trembled and contracted as tongue worked in and out, serpentine and slippery. It was not a cock, yet it went as deep as any had, spread me wide as any toy had, and it flattened strangely against my clenching walls. It fed so much drool into my asshole that I felt fluid heat, viscous and thick, begin to spread through me.

Choir's vicious assault numbed me to the soreness in my jaw as that swelling member split it wider than any cock ever could. I had to push myself back, unable to handle its growing girth, worried my teeth might pinch into Choir's sensitive flesh. I settled for leaving the fat, spade tip wedged in my mouth. A drippy urethra drooled precum so quickly I began to swallow every other breath. Its flavor reminded me of a friend's cum, sweet with a tinge of bitterness, a thing to savor in the mouth before it slowly smeared and oozed down my throat.

I'd nurse on this nectar all night if Choir let me, but he did not. I twirled in his arms again. I found my back to his, head resting against his collarbone, in a pillowy tuft of fur. His heat so immense my skin beaded with sweat even on this October night.

"You're laughing," he purred in my ear.

So I was. A giddy, giggling joy had taken me. The sort of things babe's must've babbled when tossed up in the air before they were caught by their parent. I laughed, love singing through me as I reached up and cupped his cheek. I craned my neck and kissed his lips. He growled, possessive of his prize.

He held me by my thighs, spread wide with my rear hanging over a still swelling canine cock. I gawked when I noticed it. I was sure Choir could put most stud horses to shame. That barrel of meat steamed in the open moonlight, its drooling tip glistening with silver strands falling onto the dirt. "You will need to guide me in."

I already reached down. My palms closed around the thick tip, and I found its heat near burning. I lifted it towards my body, unsure how even a fraction of it would ever fit. I did not care. Choir and I must be one, and this consummation would make us that. Still drunk on all of him, I did not even think to relax, could not relax any more than I did. I lined his spade tip to my waiting pucker. I felt it spread precum like a coat of oily balm to my nether lips before Choir rolled his hips.

It burned. My penetration ached. A soreness that turned to an itch, a longing, as my rear caved inward for the first few inches of that rigid meat. Its dark, moonlit red form throbbed, flexed and I felt my insides tugged on, thought for a moment Choir might slip out, but we remained joined--a surge of precum filled my sex. My back arched against him, breasts pointed out to the night sky, still lactating and heavier than before this fateful hike. My skin burned; my body ached like it tried to accommodate a second skeleton. I did not understand the onslaught of pain, but I did understand the pleasure that came in equal measure. It harmonized with my senses as more of that rod dug inside me.

I took it gasping, groaning. I reached up and grabbed handfuls of Choir's thick scruff, held on for dear life as he kept digging his way inside of me. His cock, not yet half sheathed in me, went farther than anything ever had before. My body quivered and twitched, his meat a lewd outline on my once-trim belly. With a jerk, Choir yanked his hips back, then impaled me on his shaft.

I screamed. The sound sickly sweet as the desert night swallowed it. I knew now the burning, the churn of my muscles and guts. I was changing to him. This was what surrender meant. Let go of all those other concerns. My screaming died, I went slack. Fur sprouted across my skin. I buried my face in his furry chest as I felt it changing, as if to hide it from the moon's witness.

Choir's cock sawed deeper inside me. Each pull and plug of that meat followed another gush of potent precum, another flush of my thighs as they swelled in his paws. My legs split in new directions, my palms swelled leathery pads. That harmony of pleasure and pain became soothing, numbing my mind. I slumped, heavy yet slight against Choir. My growing ears flicked as I listened to him huff and growl, my shoes split and shredded under the force of my growing, clawed feet. I panted, face still burning, a tail growing against him twitching, trying to wag.

I was doggedly happy. Ragged laughter broke from my lips, narrow now. A muzzle now split open and laughing. My meaty new tongue licked and tested its teeth and chops.

"We are, hnnf, almost c-complete," Choir snarled.

We were. I felt it, strange along my growing canine cock. Fat and full now against the soft, wheat-colored fur that ran along my belly. A bulb of flesh had swollen at its base, half peeking from its sheath. In every measure I lacked Choir's size, but we were one. My grip on his scruff tightened, claws digging into the tough skin there. My body thrummed and buzzed with only pleasure now. My sharpened snout caught the smell of our joined sex, and I saw what he said earlier was true: my scent had changed to his. The smell of a storm barreling into the before us valley.

Choir's knot hammered my newly changed tailhole. The hungry, puffy black rim almost resembled the shape of a coyote's spade. A perfect place to plunge some studly male's meat. My mate's cock slammed in and out. He huffed and snarled, rougher than he had ever been before. And my sex loved it. My passage clung to his plundering prick, sucking hungrily on that breeder. I squirmed in his grip, knowing he could tie me, but he didn't right away. His bulb bruised and pummeled my abused pucker. His precum, thick with little beads of sperm, leaked and spurted around that bulb. It smeared into our fur, his balls and sheath, and matted the ground, soiled the pristine desert air with our pungent rut.

I felt my orgasm being edged out. My dick bounced to his thrusts, pressure built up in my shaft. Pent up and needing to cum but unable as each thrust felt like it should bring me over the edge. I mewled and begged, mad for Choir to seed and claim me. My insides tossed and turned horny as any bitch in heat, my precum squirting in longer and longer arcs across the dirt.

Then Choir's jaw clamped down on my shoulder. The moon might as well have exploded overhead. I saw white, dazed by his teeth tearing into me. His knot rammed my puffy rim, grinding, that ring of muscle stretching. He snarled into my bleeding shoulder, his knot prying me open as my body stayed rigid, in a little rigor mortis. A twitch here, a toe curl there, my muzzle hung open, and finally my body yielded. We joined.

I felt it. The tight, soft and squishy heat of a good, subby hole sucking and contracting on your shaft. His shaft. Our shaft. It jerked inside me, still big enough to leave an obvious outline in my lower abdomen. Then the font of cum, and I came as well. My face fell against his, whining quietly in Choir's ear. His mating bite stayed as our souls intertwined, as I felt his and our breeding tools erupt in mine--no, our body. Throb after throb, pulse after pulse, his balls clenched and mine harmonized. Each rope of spunk I fired into the air matched a heavy gush of semen filling me, seeking to breed me. All that rich, virile sperm of my mate. My stomach began to fill, to swell, as his cock seeded every part of my insides. I felt its slimy heat press tight to his knot, trying to escape while my cock oozed thick, pearly dollops of sperm. Each drop thick as a normal man's load.

My bust, heavy and full now, heaved in the moonlight, as he finally released me. My blood, bright red even in the moonlight, looked good spreading across my fur like spilled wine. Choir licked my cheek, "We will always be one now."

And another aria sang in me. A hunger. His. My blood so sweet on his tongue. My flesh so warm and inviting. I needed it just as he did. To surrender. To metabolize. To become. I craned my neck just as he nuzzled into my throat.

"Safe with me, safe with me. Surrender sweetly, love. Our souls will sing with the moon above," Choir hummed before his maw opened. Tender as a kiss, his fangs grazed my throat. My sigh turned to groan turned to empty air. His teeth descended precise as a diving hawk's talons. I tasted so sweet in his maw. Ripe and fatty, my blood pouring from me. It exploded across his tongue. A flavor that sang to us both.

I wanted more. His tongue scooped tissue and viscera, warm and languid on his palate, and he swallowed his first taste of me. We moaned, and the pleasure made both our members tense with renewed pleasure. This was nothing more than another petite morte. The loss of blood and air made me dizzy for the briefest moment, my sight failing, my nose ripe with the scent of blood and cum.

"Become with me. Happily."

The blood of my shoulder could not compare to the red that spilled and matted my fur, that stained his jowls. It dripped down between my breasts, and his maw dug in again. His teeth raked my spine, a loving caress before his jaw snapped as it had only threatened earlier.

Another little death. Another blossom of pleasure. My blood caked his gums, my bone shattered, and the marrow popped and spread across his tongue like a signature my body sprayed when unmade. The taste a dance across his tongue, my body leading him deeper. He moaned, doubling over onto all fours.

He cradled me against him still, his maw large enough to rip chunks from me, but his appetite a slow, sensual thing. Little bites. Little praise. "Thank you," he said to me, to us. Blood dripped and pooled on our fur, while Choir nuzzled and bit deeper into us. His maw shucked my ribcage open like an oyster. My lungs, weak and fluttering, were little moths swallowed by his heat. The heat of my body leaving me while he kissed my heart, nibbling a corner, then sucking on the blood. The muscle, my very core, not tough or gamey, but soft and supple. It invited him, and he devoured me.

His cock slipped free from my body, but he never once stopped his vigil once begun. The long night he made sure each part of my body surrendered to his. I undone to one, to him, to his. To us. My love an our.

At dawn's hour he finished the sacred task, and sang a dirge for the valley to hear. I sang with him, metabolized in his vocal chords, in the throat that drew breath, in the tongue that shaped the notes. Together, becoming, always near my dear.