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The dance flowed and ebbed around the floor in a twisting pattern that caught the eye and made one long to join in. Thomas had longed to join in. He had watched as people twisted and turned together in pairs and partners as he kept to himself right on the outskirt. It'd been the best hope as he watched the masquerade turn and the music lifted up with an angelic lilt to it. The old plantation house hosted the party in true southern fashion. The decorations were discrete, but expensive, the music well played, the food delicious. All of it was designed to tease and tantalize as the costumed patrons mingled, ate, sang, and danced. And Thomas had felt himself red faced beneath the begemmed deer mask that he'd picked up at the store when he'd got his invitation. He'd felt out of place and uncomfortable. But the sensations had only lasted so long as it had taken for one of the better dressed patrons to notice him.

The man in the oryx outfit owned the dance floor as he moved with a grace of someone who had been born in the wrong century. The exquisitely designed mask looked almost real and was complete with a set of eyes that were liquid black and seemed to watch as much as a human might. Thomas had heard the whispers that the man had had the outfit made over seas at an extravagant amount and he could believe it. The hands were covered in smooth well tended fur and tipped with what look like hooves, his legs were designed to look bent and ended in cloven hooves. Even the ears of the mask moved as he turned the dance floor and attracted the eye of the women and even the men. He was beautiful. He was glorious. And he had stopped in the dance in front of Thomas with the mask looking as if it had curved up in a supple smile.

He didn't know why he grabbed the hand, but the moment he did his fingers had squeezed down around the fur and felt the muscle beneath it. He only knew that now his heart was pounding as he was drawn into the dance he had only been watching from afar. He was pulled in against the fine dark blue velvet jacket and the white blouse that showed a froth of material gathered around the high collar. He wanted to pull away, but from the first turn he felt ensnared by the strange oryx as if he were being mesmerized by a snake. And he had as little hope to break away from the gaze as the towering horns nearly brushed his forehead when the masked face lowered to brush a padded nose against his own covered one.

"One should not sit at the side lines, chere, to dance, to spin, to enjoy." The thick accented voice purred out, just loud enough to hear, but not loud enough to be overheard. "That is what the masquerade is for."

"I-" Thomas felt his cheeks redden under the mask as the lithe body turned him about. Why was he feeling so flustered? "Just not good at parties."

"Then I shall make you good." The voice murmured and a thick hoof tipped hand moved to slide along his back. "You can call me Creole."

Thomas gave a start, that wasn't a name. Then again, the gentleman hadn't inferred it was a name, he had only stated what he could be called. "Thomas. My name is Thomas." He responded a bit breathlessly.

"We shall make you a dancer yet, darlin." The muzzle moved as if speaking, but it was the draw of the music that made his heart beat faster.

He swallowed and was suddenly glad for the mask that hid his features. There was something strangely graceful and commanding about Creole as he took control of the dance. It wasn't just the dance that the man controlled, but something just beneath the surface that made his heart start to beat faster and his breath catch in his throat. The intimate feel of the hoof tipped fingers against the looseness of his blouse sent a thrill through him as the music around the masquerade turned whimsical and the ball room darkened intimately. He assumed that the oryx would release him, but the fingers remained curled along the curve of his back as their dance slowed. He stared at the face and shivered slightly as he realized that the white pattern of the fur seemed to look like a skull, but not a human one. Still, the edges of the white patterned fur pulled up like a skull's mad grin.

"Do ya know why ya came here, darlin'?" The voice murmured, and the muzzle was so close that he could see the bristling of whiskers along the edges of the jaw.

"I.. I got an invitation." He swallowed and flushed. He didn't get one, he found it in the lobby of his hotel cast away on the floor.

The pale expensive paper had boasted an elegant hand as well as the notation that only those holding an invitation were allowed within the ball. He'd only glanced around long enough to ensure no one saw him before he slipped the invitation in his pocket. The draw of that smooth paper and what it promised had been strangely demanding to him. Demanding enough he had gotten a costume that very evening. Demanding enough that it had felt as if it were fire when he had it in his pocket and he'd been half trembling when he arrived to renovated plantation home.

"Non,chere, we both know that's a lie." The deep voice purred out and the masked man spun him about. "Takin' what don' belong to ya is a wicked sinful thing, Thomas."

"Ah.. W-was it yours?" Thomas moved to step back, but the hands closed down as he was spun again and his back pushed up against the darkened wall of the ball room. The tall form blocking the main portion of the ball from view.

"Non, t'was yours, Thomas." The mask turned and he saw the liquid black eyes shimmer slightly. They caught the light like an endless night sky. "I left it where you would find it, chere. One who would draw to it an' snatch it up. A wicked sin that demands a price as punishment and the greed that made you hold onto it. That makes ya one o' mine, darlin'. That makes ya my prize for midsummer. That makes ya mine."

"What?" He swallowed and felt the body push against him hard enough that a flush of heat rushed through him. The large alien eyes blinked before the supple lips peeled back. Oh gods, it wasn't a mask. He could see the flat blunt teeth hiding beneath them. "I'm not yours!"

"Oui, you are." The fingers moved up and traced the edge of the mask that he wore. "Sweet soft fleshed human." There was hunger in that phrase and he tensed up. "One o' mine. Greed an' sin, lust an' envy. All o' these hold my mark and come to me eventually. An' when midsummer comes... I am allowed ta choose my pray."

The accented voice rose and fell as he felt the hoof tipped fingers slipping upwards to slide just along the edge of his shirt and pulled it outwards. His cheeks flushed beneath the mask as he felt the material being tugged outwards and pulling itself from the band of his pants. He moved his hands down and found himself gripping the furred wrists before the oryx turned his head. The dark black eyes were almost hidden as the lights lowered to allow for a more intimate turn around the ball room floor. The sound of people faded away as he felt drawn into them, swallowed down while his body trembled against the wall. There was something lurking just beneath that darkness that made his stomach tense up and then the muzzle was leaning towards him.

Thomas' fingers fell away from the oryx's wrists and was barely able to control the tremble that ran along the line of his spine. The muzzle pressed forward and brushed against the downward curve of the pony mask's snout. He could see the lips teasing the material as if they were actual lips and the hard edges pressed against his cheeks. He'd picked the mask out of a bin of them as one that was less gaudy and looked more comfortable than the rest of them. He'd thought he'd made a good choice and it was comfortable, but suddenly it felt tight and hot against his face. The edges of the mask seemed to slip around his face as Creole kissed the mask with all the passion he would have offered a real face. The hands slipped up and moved to slid over his bare stomach and chest as the tightening mask flexed slightly with a strange pulse that matched his heart beat.

The world shifted and swayed under him and he jerked his head upwards as he felt the lips pushed against his own. He felt the slight bristle of whiskers teasing along his lips and the warm breath brushing up towards his cheeks. It was so unexpected that he almost forgot the fact that he could feel the edges of the mask sliding backwards along the rise of his pale hair. The itching sensation that only grew as the material tightened and he spread his lips to cry out, only to find his mouth filled with a hot flickering tongue as the oryx gripped the edges of his shirt and gave a pull. The buttons strained for a moment, but quickly lose the battle as they popped open to show the paleness of his chest. The rough material of Creole's jacket rubbed against him as he found himself working not only his jaws, but the jaws of the pony mask.

"Shtop!" He gasped the word out, but it came out slurred as his tongue thickened and he found his teeth retracting to form a gape just behind the front ones.

"Stop?" The oryx gave a slow sinful smile and darted his head down to run his tongue in a hot line against Thomas' bare chest. "I always get tha' sinners. An' leave the saint fer my other half."

"Not.. yours.." He gasped out, but his words were lost when he felt the heat of the mask melding along his face.

His eyes blurred as they refused to look out of the discrete mesh of the front and changed instead to look to either side. The mask began to press outwards as the polished gold metal began to ripple as sleek golden fur began to form. The lips became softer and he was able to move them wider as he felt the shape of his jaw changing. He could even feel his ears starting to change as they slipped upwards and became tapered and twitched back and forth. He flattened them as the fear rose and he realized that it wasn't just his head being changed by the shape of the pony mask. His hair was growing in some places and pulling back in others. A thick pale forelock spilled forward over his forehead while the underside of the mask started to travel along his mask.

He tried to jerk away from the hold of the oryx, but failing that, he pulled his hands up and tries to peel the mask off. Where his fingers touched the heat of the magic and mask clung. His slender fingers pulled at the rolling fur that thickened and lengthened his neck, only to feel the nails starting to change. They grew harder and thicker as he lost feeling in the tips of his fingers. He tried to cry out, but a hot tongue stopped him as Creole kissed him again. The tongue stroked and teased as the creature swallowed his horrified screams and he felt his neck arching as a thick mane fell down along the length of his back. The edges of it tickled his shoulders as his shirt was peeled off him and dropped to the floor.

Why was no one helping him? His eyes bulged wildly and he found the darkened room filled with couples and groups talking, dancing, eating, laughing. The music rose and fell and dim lights danced over the floor, but they never brushed towards the corner he had been taken to. It remained black and tucked away from the rest of the party so that no one could see more than a couple enjoying a quiet moment. They didn't see that Thomas was changing and his torso growing over with smooth golden fur the color of a glistening necklace. He let out a ragged groan around the tongue as the oryx's hands moved towards his waist. He tried feebly to push them away, but his thick fingers felt clumsy and where they touched the magic spread down lower.

The lips pulled away from his own and he gasped out, his nostrils flaring as he stared along the length of his long muzzle. He could see the dip of his nose and the curve of his chin. He felt the long ears moving and the mane that tumbled over his shoulders, but the magic didn't stop there. He dropped his hands away with a whimper as he felt the flush of warmth that mask had started run below the line of his slacks. He didn't care when Creole's deft touch loosened his pants, because something was definitely wrong. The heat left him trembling and on fire as he felt his bottoms peeled downwards. Not even the knowledge that he was standing nude in the middle of a party stopped the fear as he pushed the oryx back enough to look down.

His eyes flashed wildly and he let out a horrified cry as he stared at where his cock had rested as normal and human as he could have hoped. A thick heavy pouch formed and held a pale pink cock that had barely any likeness to what he knew. The bell shaped glans drooled over the edge and he could see the wrinkled flesh filling out with the heat as the gold fur moved lower and into the darkness. He could only feel the ache of his legs as they started to change. They were changing! This was a dream, this was a dream! It wasn't happening, it wasn't real! It couldn't possibly real. And overlooking it all was the grinning skull patterned face of the oryx that seemed to glow in the shadows. One of his hands moved and wrapped around the equine cock and gave it a pull upwards.

Something hard and slippery rubbed right against the head of his girth and he swallowed roughly as he saw the tight riding pants Creole had worn were unbuttoned. He could make out a heavy pale sheath, but above it towered a bone cock that pulsed and spilled out a slow dribble of precum towards the ground. Thomas swallowed and then groaned as he felt the tip of the cock brushing back and forth against his own. The wetness dribbling against him as he pushed back against the wall harder. When he tried to pull his hips back he cried out as he stubbed the tail bone that had extended out above his ass. A pale white tail flowed down towards the ground while he whickered out a feral noise that sounded nothing like what he expected.

"My sweet sinner." Creole murmured and blessedly released his cock only to grip his golden furred hips. The former human writhed as he was pulled upwards. "Now I take my prize, chere."

Thomas wanted to ask what that was, but he knew. He knew as his shoulders were forced back against the wall and strong hoof tipped fingers gripped either side of his hips. He was forced upwards and the hardening feet that formed hooves were yanked up into the air to straddle the curved hips. The oryx rolled his hips slowly and he felt the boned shaft rubbing right up along his balls and sheath. His legs shuddered and he twisted. The sensation was so strange when it brushed up against his formed sheath and trailed lower to caress along the swell of his golden orbs. It was a mixture of trembling fear of what was about to happen and hot anticipation as his body warmed the feel of the fingers trailed over him lightly.

There was something strange about the heat that was left trailing through his body from the change. He could feel it lurking beneath the surface and it teased over the nerves in places no hand should ever touch. It worked him up expertly until he was writhing and trembling as he felt the strange pony cock starting to harden and spill out. It grew and raised up against his belly until he could feel it brushing just under his chest. The heavy weight of it wasn't like his own modest sized cock, now it was as thick as a can and the feel of the oryx's jacket made him buck his hips up helplessly in an embarrassed rush of need. He felt his cheeks flushed hot, but he didn't care. Something about that clinging sticky magic made him feel almost shameless.

The former human let out a muted cry that was stopped when the eager lips pushed up against his thicker equine ones. The tapered tip of the cock slipped down and rubbed right along his pucker while he clenched it tightly and squirmed. His heart started to pound faster before the hips suddenly pushed upwards and his bare chest was shoved firmly against Creole's. His equine squeal of shock was lost to the sweet caress of a tongue as it pushed deep into his muzzle and the cock spread his anal ring open wide. He could feel the foreign experience of his tail twitching behind him as the heated length began to sink deeper and deeper inside of him. The newly made pony squirmed and bucked as that first inch slipped in and spilled out a hot dribble of wetness into his passage.

The oryx's thick fingers moved to clench firmly against the curve of his hips and pulled him down so he was impaled further. He kicked his hooves out slightly, it was nothing like a human's shaft. The thickness that buried itself inside of him left him gasping as he writhed and twisted backwards against the wall. It was hot, far hotter than he expected and it let out a constant stream of wet jets of precum that trickled deep into his passage. It made him feel slippery and wet, but that didn't stop him from eagerly clutching around the shaft and squeezing it in his passage. The heat of the change seemed to flare inside of him and flush him with swollen desires that he couldn't quite keep under control. He arched his hips and curled his legs around the curved back as another thick inch plunged inside of him.

The strange creature's lips pulled away from his and a low laugh rumbled through his chest as the creature bucked him up hard. The driving power of the hips forced the cock deep inside of his quivering passage and he was left whimpering out as his muscles clamped down in protest. Something furred pushed up against his pucker and the balls rubbed his inner thighs before Creole pulled back again. The hard boned tip stroked through him and caressed over places that sent rushes of pleasure through him. The wet trickle of precum spilled out around the base of the red shaft when the hips thrust upwards again.

Behind them, around them, inside of them the music of the masquerade went on. It rose up and fell as it played especially to follow the oryx's game of pleasure. It vibrated Thomas' chest and made him cry out when the hips hit harder against him and the balls slapped up between his legs. His walls were strained open so wide and he could do nothing to relieve the pressure except to squirm and buck his hips. His own cock pulsed hard and throbbing against his lower chest as if in silent accusation to how he truly felt about how he was being taken. Each push of that hard tip along a spot inside of him sent him bucking forward, until the hips suddenly pulled back.

"Wh-what.." Thomas' managed to stammer out, his tongue felt thick as the tip of the tapered cock pulled free and a strand of thick precum trailed from the tip to rub over his balls.

"Turn around, chere, present yourself to me." Creole's hands dropped him and his body was pulsing and hot with need. Everything felt hot. Too hot.

His cheeks felt flushed and he stared up at the grinning skull of a face and watched the dark eyes slid over his completely nude form. He looked down and saw every last inch of that thick hard cock jutting out from the oryx's trousers and his lips quivered slightly. The sudden desire to suckle around it rose up and he fought it off with a strength of will. What he chose to do was almost as bad as leaning down to suckle around the tip of the glistening cock. He turned around awkwardly within the confines of the powerful male's arms and leaned forward against the wall. The foreign sensation of the tail behind him changed as it flagged up and to one side. He could feel his pucker glistening and exposed to the room as his cheeks burned.

Did anyone know that in this dark corner he was being dominated like this? Did they know that he was being used and taken and he could barely come up with any words to stop it? Did they wonder what was happening with the strange man they all assumed was human? Did they-

Thomas SQUEALED as the hard cock suddenly shoved right up against his tender pucker and hands wrapped around his waist and chest. All thoughts cut off by that moment of painful pleasure as the animalistic cock drove itself home and set sparks to the tinder of his need. His cock pulsed hotly against his belly and he moved a hand down to cup around the tip. It wasn't anything like his human cock, but he squeezed it as the furred hips clapped against his own and the heavy swell of the ovids bumped between his legs. He didn't try to stammer or protest, his body was flushed with need that could only have one conclusion, no matter how horrified the human part of his mind was.

The hard thrusts worked the cock so deep inside of him that he could feel his walls quivering and squeezing in an attempt to deal with the penetration. Only after a handful of pushes into him he drove himself back against the oryx. His head lowered until he could feel his mane falling forward over his eyes while he groaned out and listened to the music pounding from beyond the embrace of their bodies. Creole's hips teased back and forth while the pony squeezed the tip of his cock and felt his own precum coating his fingers as he rubbed himself. The strange creature's hand moved down and pushed his clutching appendage away and gave the base of his cock a squeeze that made him jerk forward in startled pleasure.

"So, sweetness.. not at all... untouched.." The thick deep voice purred his ears as Creole's back arched up and the balls clapped up hard between his legs and then drew back again.

Thomas squeezed his eyes shut in humiliation, but that didn't take away the pleasure he felt at the fingers working around his pony cock. They glided from the base all the way to the tip while he humped the air and pushed back against the oryx's hips. The boned shaft pulsed and sent out a sticky spray of precum out inside of him as the music from the ball picked up pace. It was rough and wild and jarred him until he could think of nothing but the pleasure of being filled and the sheath pushed up against his tail hole and the hand that pumped up and down his slickening shaft. The oryx's fingers were gentle as they teased right around the very tip and sent a rush of fire through him.

He lost control. He lost all control. He didn't know he was in the ball, he didn't care. He didn't care about anything except the tension of his balls drawing up and the tip starting to flare open. Creole's teeth snagged the back of his neck as the hips suddenly slammed forward and the pony squealed out wildly. He felt a sudden hot spray of cum erupting inside of him in a pressured rush. It felt like thick liquid fire as his clenching ass massaged and milked around the boned cock and pulled more of it out. His legs spread open and the tip of the pony's cock flared open and jutted the urethra out as he let out a final squealing cry of pleasure.

He almost felt as if he were about to faint as his balls released a hot wash of thick seed onto the wall. His cum bubbling up in ropes that he had never been able to produce before. He twisted and rolled his hips back against Creole wildly, pushing and grinding himself as the heavier bodied male kept him pushed down. He vaguely felt the scratchy coat rubbing against his back and the edge of the pants biting against his pants, but he didn't care. He cared only about the drooling pulses of the spent shaft inside of him and his own release. His mind swimming with it as he gave himself over utterly to that sweet embrace. He didn't even realize the music was gone and silence was left. Nor the feel of light on his body.

Applause, whistles, howls and animal noises broke out around him. The raucous sound of the party rose up wildly and he trembled slightly as he opened up one eye and gasped in a breath. He found his golden form illuminated by light. It caught over the edges of his hide and nose while Creole stood up and stepped back. Even that applause couldn't stop him from hearing the lewd wet noise of the cock pulling free or the wet dribble along his inner thighs. The little golden pony lifted his head and turned to see the oryx strutting out with a toss of his horned head. The guests gathered in a circle. Guests who had been human. Guests who had been completely normal.

Wolves licked their chops as they looked at him and tigers purred their approval. Great dark stallions whickered and whistled through their teeth as goats bleated eagerly for more. Animals that stood on two legs called for more as Creole arched his neck and brandished the tall ribbed horns and gestured back at Thomas. Thomas who felt his tail still hiked up and the spent pink cock dropping down to hang heavy between his legs. The wall painted with his release that they had obviously all just watched. He stumbled away as a large bull with gilded horns stepped forward and gave a flat toothed smile to help him stand. The air was hot with the scent of beasts.

"We 'ave 'ad a good show, oui?!" Creole's voice rose up. "Let us not forget ta praise our guest an' give him his due!"

The animals grinned as only wild creatures could and clothing started to slide from him. The eager eyes devoured him as he stood nude and shaking, chained by magic and desire in place while he huddled down slightly. His nostrils flared a little bit as the night drew into a blur of lustful bodies and desires. The hot stabs inside of him and mouths suckling him, the taste of cum rolling down his throat and his golden coat splattered with white. Used, taken, praised, released, mounted and ridden. The Midsummer Night ball went on with the guest of honor being fully enjoyed by all. Creole's prize satiating him and all his ilk to keep the peace another year. The ancient beasts of Bacchus calmed with a single night of pure lust.

~ ~ * ~ ~

Thomas awoke slowly in his hotel to the artificial sound of the AC running at full blast and his body shaking from the cold. He was nude and laying on top of the covers, his stomach sticky with spent seed as he started to move. He was sore, so sore, so tired and exhausted. His mind tinged with the edge of dreams and passions that made him flush as he rolled over and whimpered. He hurt and ached in a way that only a night of pleasure could bring about. The details were strange and fuzzed around the edges, but some of them seemed true. Others were so outlandish that he shyed away from them as he tried to push himself up to see what time it was.

He groped against the edge of the night stand froze as his fingers brushed over something that rested precariously near the edge. His eyes snapped open and he turned to find himself staring at a mask carved in the likeness of a pony looking back at him. The empty eye holes stared at him almost accusingly while the gold caught the edge of sunlight peeping out from under the curtains. It was exactly like he'd worn last night, save this one had been painted. A grinned skull had carefully been drawn over the gold with a single red rose painted in the center of the forehead. Beneath it was a folded note.

"Let us dance again soon, chere."

It was written on thick linen paper in fine elegant script. It wasn't signed. There was no need for it. The signature lay on the mask that had, for one glorious hedonistic night, become a part of him.