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The chores about the village were numerous. Food was plentiful in the forest for those who knew how to find it, and how to give back to the plants that provided. One of the more pleasant tasks was set to Randal today. He was walking ankle deep in a small pond behind the village, his toes squishing against soft mud and moss covered rocks. He was walking slowly so as not to slip and fall against the hard surface hidden beneath the light green water.

To his left was a bull named Ganemede. He had stopped already as a vine was creeping up his inner thigh seeking out the one source of food that the plants of this region hungered for; semen.

"Oh, over here little puppy. Found a batch of 'em," he said as the air in his lungs labored from the feeling of the vine tickling his leg. Several more poked out of the water and wriggled around the leg, ensnaring him.

Randal walked up next to the bull and felt little vines creep around his ankles as well. Two vines slipped up from the water, one was hollow while the other was blunt. He kneeled down into the warm pond and felt the water seep into his fur. He had done this many times before, and much preferred a kneeling position than standing when the vines came up for their version of food.

Ganemede grunted and lowed, his hand instinctually moving over and gripping behind Randal's white-grey head and gripping his scruff. He wouldn't admit it, but Randal was quite fond of the way some bulls, Ganemed and Dozer in particular, took a more aggressive approach to mating.

As much as he would love to sink that expanding bovine member into his muzzle and suck down the juices for himself, such a meal wouldn't help to feed a village. Instead he gripped his fingers around the low hanging sack as one hallow vine slipped over and down the bull cock while another had found his own sex.

The inside of the tube felt rather slimy, not at all unpleasant. His fingers suddenly gripped tighter and pulled down on the tender orbs within his grasp, eliciting a steady moan from the bull.

"Oh yeah little pups, pull on them for yer big bull friend."

Randal obliged being more than willing to assist in helping the vines feed. His fingers gripped tighter and pulled the skin down and yanking the hefty orbs downward drawing forth another low grunt and a bigger grip on the scruff of his own neck.

"Yeah pups, pull 'em, make 'em hurt pups, make them bull-balls hurt." Randal's ear's flushed pink, only four people had ever referred to him as 'pup in the village, a term he wouldn't stand for if he heard anyone else call him such.

His cock had become fully erect in the vine gripping him. The soft squeezing and suckles along his shaft drew out precum easily. He wasn't expecting to take too much time here; there were too many tasks that had yet to be done.

Randal grabbed the thick brown thigh of Ganemede's leg, holding if firmly as he tensed himself up and whimpered in response to the sex. The bull's hand gripped the scruff hard as he shot out a load into the sucking vine, small bulges could be seen pulling away the massive ejaculate the first few pulses that a bull's orgasm made. His fingeres didn't relax when the sensations ended though, he held on tight to Randal's scruff and leaned down to whisper to him.

"That's a good puppy, give up yer seed, come on boy, be a good little puppy boy. Feed that vine yer sweet spunk."

The words were nearly enough to make Randal cum without the pulling and tugging on his cock. As the hushed voice edged him along he felt himself tense up and bite at the leg he was holding onto. His tail flagged discreetly while he gave forth of himself to the vine, eyes tightly shut as he was temporarily blinded to the pleasure.

Arms helped lift him up to his feet while his knot was still held fast by the vine. Ganemede's broad snout pressed against Randal's shoulder and was held silently until the vine released him.

"Feel better Randal," the bull asked tenderly.

"Yeah, of course I do. You should know better than to ask."

"I asked 'cause I like hearing it from you. Come on, gotta harvest the fruit."

They both walked towards the center of the pond, the water deepening to cover their knees. Randal pushed his hand under the water and felt around for the plump fruit, finding a few good sized ones and snapping the vines off them. The severed vine wriggled angrily and slid back, leaving the fruit to float up to the surface. It was easily as big as Randal's own head. It was orange with yellow splotches along the thick husk with a white round area where the vine had been attached to it and a yellow fluid was seeping out of the white patch.

Randal unhooked the clasp on the bag and slid the fruit inside. He was careful to only take those that were most ripe, as the plant wasn't too fond of having all of it's fruit taken on a single day. They continued to fill the bags up with fruit until the vines around them became agitated. They stopped and carefully stepped back out onto dry land.

They deposited the fruit in the pantry hut, giving over the bags for a fox to sort and store until they needed to be cooked. The fruit wasn't much of a fruit, really. It tasted more like a mixture of broccoli and sweet butter. Small pink fronds on the inside almost looked like the head of a sprout of broccoli.

The next several tasks were not quite as fun as the harvesting of fruit had been. The vines around the village had been cut back to make room for the huts and various small buildings that made up the village, and the forest was intent on getting back all of it's own land. Every three days or so the vines had to be trimmed back, less they creep inside and start tearing down the houses slowly. Some of the creepers could grow three or four feet in a single day, though not mobile like some of the other vines, they were a big annoyance if they grew into the huts. So Randal and a few others were taking sharp machetes and cutting vines back, tossing the severed ends into a bucket for disposal later.

Next was Randal's schooling. Lessons were much less boring and more entertaining than any classes he had been to before coming to the forest. Darkthorn had taken it upon himself to teach all the new arrivals which plants were safe, and which were dangerous. Yesterday's lesson had been exciting, to say the least.

Darkthorn had brought a jar from his locked cabinet, bringing out a harmless looking fruit. He took off the jar's cover and set the apple-like thing on a tray while standing back. He put his finger out slowly towards it, and just as he came within a foot, the pod split open and thin tendrils sprung from the center. They had looked brown and hairy, but as they wrapped around Darkthorn's finger, blood began to seep from where they made contact. He sprayed some clear fluid onto his finger and the tendrils shuddered and quickly retreated back into the apple.

"Dart Spike Fruit," Darkthorn said as he wrapped his finger up, the cloth becoming lightly stained in his blood. "Nasty little things but easy to find. They fall from a tree that has large purple spikes about halfway up the trunk that point downward. The fruit, before it falls, it completely helpless and quite sweet. When it matures, the little tendrils grow and the parent tree drops the fruit. It drinks blood, if it can ensnare itself on a limb. Somewhat painful, but the plant injects an anesthetic that numbs the pain. Each of the little hairs is a small needle, and it will draw out about a pint before it lets go.

"The danger is not in one of them, but the number of them that drop at a time. Usually ten to fifteen drop in a small area, and if all of them happen to get a hold of you, it will draw out blood until you don't have enough. Not exactly a fun.

"A small spray of Grey Lattice will make them retreat. Each travel pack has a small bottle of it. If you happen to get stuck with one, don't waste the spray if you can help it."

Today's lesson was going to be a bit more interesting though. The seven or so newcomers, including Randal, where now walking along one of the pathways that lead away from the village in the direction of the two mountain to the northwest. The hike took almost an hour, and they came to a place where a large gathering of Fuzzy Feeders were sticking to a lumpy looking tree.

Randal could see that the tree's small lumps were leaking a clear-honey like fluid, which the feeders were apparently gobbling up as they smoothed their way around the trunk. A few of the closer ones could sense the group having approached, and began to fall off the tree and wiggle along the ground closer.

"Milk Tree and Fuzzy Feeders," Darkthorn spoke. "Fuzzy Feeders are harmless, they usually hang under mating couples and try to catch and drops of fluids, but will, if given the chance, suckle down and try to draw it out themselves. They can be easily pulled off, so there's no harm in letting them hang around if you want."

Darkthron reached down and picked one up. It seemed to try to wrap around his finger and suck, but the wolf was preventing it from getting a hold. "They're also fun to throw at people," he said and chucked one at a fox in the group.

The feeder turned and opened its soft and sucker-covered underbelly in the direction it was headed and stuck like a piece of glue to the fox. It started to shimmy down his stomach in search of an interesting appendage to attach to. The fox didn't seem to mind this at all when it fastened itself to his sheath and then bulged outwards as the cock inside began to lengthen.

"The Milk Tree is named that way because the excretion around the bumps tastes just like milk. It's possible to squeeze the lumps and milk out some of the fluids, which is what we are going to do today. So take the skeins you have and start filling them."

Everyone moved a little closer to the tree while the fox being pleasured seemed to stumble a little on his way to the trunk.

Randal pushed away a few of the feeders and began to fill the skein he was carrying, but soon found he had to duck and jump back as the others had decided that throwing feeders was much more interesting.

Randal had to pick a few off his body and toss them aside as they landed on him. He wasn't feeling up to having another load of cum drawn from him right now even though his sex was showing otherwise.

He filled as much milk as he could and stepped away from the tree. He watched the others abandon their skeins for now and let the feeders have their way with them. Darkthorn just sat on the ground watching them have fun.

"Not feeling up to another round today, Randal?"

Randal smiled and sat down right next to the older wolf. "Sometimes there is a thing as too much sex," he said, almost not believing he had uttered those words aloud.

"Well, that is true. Sometimes we have other things on our minds besides mating, even if we are now altered to desire it more." Darkthorn paused for a moment. "So how are Falroth and Devras treating you? Keeping you up late at nights?"

Randal looked up. The expression he saw was of detachment from Darkthorn's face. The question had seemed a little odd to Randal. "Well, not all the time," he said as he tried to make himself sound disinterested in sex all of a sudden.

"Ah, well I see the light on late in that house usually. I wasn't sure if you were involved in the activities, or if you were trying to sleep."

Randal rubbed the back of his neck with his paw. He scratched as if he had an itch that needed attending to. He amused himself for a moment, watching the small group orgy that was going on at the tree. Almost all the feeders had slipped down off the tree and were vying for positions to either fasten themselves around a cock, or under them hoping for some of the run off. Even one person down there was almost entirely covered in feeders, the little bodies undulating as he was no doubt accosted by many suckling mouths.

"Falroth and Devras do keep me up sometimes, but I feel like I'm intruding upon them." The words came out before he could really think about them, otherwise he never would have been able to say it.

Darkthorn looked at Randal. "Would you like more private quarters then?"

Both their eyes met, and for the briefest of moments, the two felt a spark ignite as they glanced at each other. Darkthorn held his gaze, but Randal looked away embarrassedly.

"Yeah, I suppose. I mean, I really do feel like I'm getting in their way."

"Then I shall look into finding you less crowded accommodations."

Randal became slightly confused. He was hoping Darkthorn might open up his house to him. He had liked Darkthorn quite a bit, but was unsure of how the wolf felt. He was, after all, entirely new to intimate relationships.

"I think Paul would take you in, he hasn't got a mate yet and won't be keeping you up all hours of the night."

"What if," Randal started to say but stopped. He suddenly felt like a large hand was keeping down his words.

Darkthorn waited a minute before repeating, "What if?"

If he couldn't bring himself to ask it now, he felt as if he would never get the chance. "What if I stayed with you?" Randal's voice cracked on the last word, and his ear tips flushed a bright pink.

Darkthorn raised his eyebrows. "You want to stay with me," he said more than asked.

Randal nodded, it was much easier to do that than reply verbally.

"I see." The silence between the two was only interrupted by the moans and grunts of delight from a few yards away. "I suppose I could let you stay with me, as long as you don't go looking into my private stock of plants. I don't want you getting hurt."

Randal's ears perked up sharply. A sudden static bolt raced across his torso while these words sank in. He was suddenly very happy, and didn't realize his excitement was beginning to show itself despite the earlier vine-feeding he had given.

Darkthorn did not point this out to the younger canine, but his eyes flashed down to the emerged shaft in the instant Randal had blinked. The wolf put his arm up and around Randal's shoulders, pulling him closer so that his nose could tickle an ear. "Does this mean," Darkthorn whispered softly, "that you're now my little puppy?"

Randal's body flushed with delight at these words. He didn't say anything back, instead he ducked his head down submissively and licked up at Darkthorn's chin. Randal had never been given the opportunity to sample this particular musk; and he found it quite to his liking. Maturity was in this taste, experience and tenderness as well.

From below, the students had finished both milking the tree and being milked themselves, several of the little fuzzy feeders were rolled into little balls of fluff, gurgling away as they digested up their meals while the other ones seemed to dejectedly return to the tree to gleam nutrients off it.

With skeins filled and everyone basking in the soft afterglow of orgasms had; they tromped back to the village.