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Richard scowled into his book. The words flowed past, like so many unintelligible scribbles, and he let them flow in and out of his mind like confetti. With the objective part of his mind, such as it was, Richard had to admit his father was right. He knew he was stupid, or at least he was when it came to grasping the basics of accounting; he just resented the way his father said it with such an air of exasperation.

The old bastard...

It was a perfect night, not too cold, and a full moon glistened from the sky. A perfect Saturday night, yet here he was attempting to study and failing dismally. He should be out enjoying himself, but instead, his father had ordered him to stay home on their estate and study like a maniac. As if it would make any difference; he would fail his upcoming university exams just as he had at mid year. His father's plans for retirement and an orderly handover of the farm and business to his son and heir might have hit a roadblock.

Maybe he will finally have to admit I'm not cut out for this shit.

Richard could hear the parties nearby, and he so much wanted to blow off the books and join then. For it wasn't just any old Saturday night; it was Halloween, and he loved this night like almost no other. Getting dressed up, getting even more wild. He had lost his virginity to a drunken Samantha Williams on a Halloween night three years ago, humping like mad in the hayloft of the barn on her family's farm three miles away.

Sam was in the city now though, and doing well at university. While Richard...

The frustrated student's thoughts were interrupted by a loud sharp noise from an unexpected quarter. It had sounded like a breaking bottle, the distinctive sound of shattering glass. What surprised him though was that it seemed to have come from the stables; there shouldn't be anyone there this time of night.

Thankful of the distraction, he tossed the text book to the floor and headed for the kitchen. Through the window, he could make out the stable building; a squat mass across the garden, with a flat attached to it's far left end.

The flat was occupied by their farm manager, the taciturn Martin Flowers, and his two stupid sons Tim and Malcolm. Richard didn't mind them too much; they at least managed to make him feel smart by comparison. He generally left the two Flowers boys alone, and concentrated on giving orders to their dad. He liked giving orders, especially to Martin Flowers. The man clearly hated him, though he was too sensible to say anything. Precisely what hold the farm manager had over his father was one mystery Richard had been itching to investigate for a long time.

As he looked over the stables, Richard gave a sudden gasp. He could see dim lights moving through the high windows of the stable building. There were none visible in the flat; that in itself was not suspicious, although it was only half past nine, as the Flowers' tended to go to sleep early and get up early to do their work before the boys went to school. But only they would have had access to the stable, it was locked up at night.

So what were they doing in the stables this time of night?

Grimly determined, Richard ran upstairs to retrieve his flashlight and a small camera. Whatever it was they were doing, if it was in any way suspicious, he would catch them red handed and bring the evidence to his father. Let's see old man Flowers wriggle out of that.

Clad in his jeans and t-shirt, Richard strode purposefully across the grass. He made it to the side door without making any noise, and he opened the lock extremely carefully, as quiet as a burglar. The door swung open easily, though with a loud squeaking groan. He grimaced at the noise, mentally damning the Flowers' for not oiling the hinges like they were supposed to. Waving his torch ahead like a spear, he plowed down the corridor, past the small office and the tack room, and into the main stable.

Richard stood stock still, his mouth agape at what he saw, or more accurately didn't see.

The three stalls were empty.

In a trance, he staggered past the empty stalls. His shoe brushed a pile of glass, the remains of a whisky bottle. He recognised it as the one he had stolen from his father and hidden in the stable. Now it lay shattered on the concrete, it's brown fluid distributed across the floor. His vision was drawn briefly to a small lamp placed against the far wall. It's minimal illumination cast huge shadows across the stable, and at first he managed to persuade himself it must be a trick of the low light. They cant be gone...and so he swung his flashlight around the stalls seeking a sign that the world hadn't gone crazy.

First was the stall normally occupied by Champion, his father's mount and their stallion. The big bay brute would be chomping and snorting by now,eyeing him suspiciously, but no sound came. The stall was empty

Champion had always mistrusted him, and he in turn hated the stallion. Richard couldn't understand why his father insisted on keeping the stallion intact, they had no real need for one. Champion was a noted eventing horse in his time, and his line was a popular one, but his father had only bred to him a few times. Surely a last visit to the AV would stock up enough of his sperm for any future AI needs and they could bring the surly brute down a peg or two. Instead his father insisted he be allowed to service mares naturally.

The first two of those times had produced colts that they had kept themselves, Rogue and Vagabond. Richard liked the names, he had given them himself much to his father's disapproval. The two colts, one bay and one red roan, now young geldings, occupied the middle and far stalls usually. Vagabond was his horse, a bay like his sire, while Rogue belonged to his sister.

Richard had enjoyed the day the two colts had become geldings. Richard had managed to finally persuade his father of the need, and the old bastard reluctantly gave in when Vagabond had bitten Richard while he was being saddled. Richard had neglected to mention to his father exactly why Vagabond might have reacted that way; there were some things his father didn't need to know. It was very late for Vagabond, almost four and already behaving like a stallion, and even for the two year old Rogue.

He had watched the vet with them, as they were led out one after the other from the stables by the elder Flowers boy. Their sire had known something was up, his head poked through a doorway and his ears bristling and eyes rolling. All he could do was watch and snort and whinny though as his colts were anaesthetised, and laid on the exercise yard.

Richard had almost vomited as the vet's scalpel cut open the first scrotum, belonging to Vagabond. The young stallion didn't react, well tranquilized as he was, even as his first testicle was exposed and readied. His sire had though; rearing and banging against the stable. Richard had smiled at the brute then, helpless as his colts were dealt with. He even managed a warning.

"Your turn soon enough fleabag, as soon as my father comes to his senses"

He got a screaming whinny in return.

Then the vet brought the emasculator into play. They had one of their own for their cattle, usually stored in the barn. While they were happy to do their own calves in a pinch though, a full grown young stallion was another thing and the vet was a wise choice.

Richard had watched as the vet clamped the device over the top of Vagabond's left testicle, wincing at the crunching noise as the cruel implement cut off the blood vessels and tubes. Then the sound of rending flesh went through him like a knife as the final stage was completed, and the great bulk of a stallion's orb lay quivering in the vet's hand. Then again on the other side.

The young terror just lay dumbfounded on the ground, his now useless cock still flopping against his belly. Champion continued his protests, and the vet had to sedate him a little before the younger Rogue was brought out for his turn. Soon enough, a second pair of stallion balls had parted company with their owner.

Still, as enjoyable as it was, there was one set he wanted gone most of all. At least Vagabond had been better behaved afterwards, if a touch surly and uncooperative at times. Richard knew how to deal with that though; he had never been shy about using the whip.

Now the stallion appeared to have vanished, along with the two geldings.

What the hell are those stupid Flowers boys thinking...?

It had to be them. No one else made sense.

Suddenly Richard's world was turned upside down. He felt himself grabbed roughly from behind, and he felt pain as he was shoved hard into a wall. His head spun from the impact, and before he could regain his senses, the world went dark as a bag was pulled over his head. Strong fingers gripped his wrists behind his back, and a cruel rope was tied around them, biting into skin and rubbing raw as he struggled belatedly for freedom. The hands were too strong though, and he felt all the fight knocked out of him when a hand shoved him into the wall again with a loud 'oooof' that drove the air from his lungs.

Then voices...

"Is it him?" the first voice was almost familiar, but muffled. The accent was the same as the Flowers', that was for sure, and the voice a little more high pitched like Malcolm, the youngest.

"Of course it's him. Who else do you think it is?" This voice was deeper, and angry. Not like the elder Flowers boy, Tim, yet not unalike either. Damn this sack...it was muffling everything and making it hard to make out.

"Quiet you two. Are there any others with him?" The final voice made Richard's whole body twitch, and made the short hairs on the nape of his neck stand up. Deep, rolling, gruff. Deeper than old man Flowers ever sounded, and with an edge of malice. He must be putting it on to conceal their identity from his boss' son. Fat chance...

"Look you three, let me go. I know its you guys, no one else could be in here. Tell me what you did with the horses, and let me go, and I'll forget this happened ok?"

The prickling sensation got worse as his words drew an unexpected response. All three began to laugh, a mocking cruel laugh. Richard froze in terror; it appeared they didn't care if he knew them.

"You always were stupid Richard, just as your father said. Looks like you came here on your own; that was the stupidest of all little one. On a Halloween with the full moon..." the deep voice mocked him with every word, and he tried to avoid the feeling of stupidity but the word had its effect. It made him angry, and ashamed.

"What's that got to do with it? And who are you to call me stupid? You're barely above the gutter you lot, and you only have a place thanks to my father. You should hit your knees and thank God for us every night instead of doing this!"

That just drew more laughter, and the hands on his shoulders shook the young student until he shut up, still bristling under the sack covering his head.

"What do we do with him dad?" said the youngest and highest voice. Probably Malcolm.

"Bring him over to the railing and get those ropes."

Richard felt himself hauled bodily across the floor, his shoes dragging on the concrete. He tried to resist, but the invisible hands merely lifted him onto his toes and dragged his struggling body until he felt wood against his hips. They had taken him to one of the wooden railings next to the hay store, he could recognise the smooth round beam against his hips, and then the hands gripped his ankles and spread them while he cursed and cried out. He felt ropes on his ankles then, and the sensation of pulling as he was tied off tight to the wooden uprights. He was now spreadeagled against the partition, but still standing.

His attackers seemed to pause then for a moment, only sharing strange grunts and sounds. Everything was muffled by the sack, he couldn't hear properly and he cursed his misfortune as much as he cursed them. Oh how much they would pay...and how much he would enjoy making them pay.

Then he felt the strangest thing of all. It made him cry out before he bit his lip, determined not to let them know they were getting to him.

One of his attackers had suddenly stood close to him, running a hand under his t-shirt. Rough fingers stroked his belly, then his chest, flicking each nipple and making him squirm.

What is going on...?

"He feels so different dad. I've always wondered what it would feel like," the voice was soft, and filled with wonder. It was the one he thought of as Malcolm again.

"That he is son. Different, and much much weaker."

"Still...I like the feel."

The hand continued, joined by a second now. He felt his t-shirt lifted to his shoulders, and the hands roamed all over his torso, scraping, teasing, touching. They found his nipples again and this time fingers clasped his sensitive nips and rubbed and squeezed, rolling the flesh between hard digits. Now he was moaning, in spite of himself.

"And I wonder what he looks like here too..."

"Hey! Stop! Now..please...I mean, don't you dare or else..."

Richard saw stars then as a hand slapped his face. Even through the sack, the blow was powerful enough to rattle him and he nodded his head groggily and slumped against the railing. He couldn't stop the hands though...they tickled down his belly to his jeans, unbuckling his belt and popping buttons one by one. He felt his jeans slowly lowered along with his boxers, until the spread of his legs prevented them going any lower somewhere around his knees.

Next there was laughter.

"Small, isn't he. Is that it?"

"He will get hard son, and a bit bigger, but not much. Not like you or your brother."

"Still..he has these..."

Richard gasped as a hand clasped his genitals, the palm cupping his testicles. Gentle pressure made him cry out, as his balls were fondled, brought to the edge of pain then released only to repeat the cycle. Then a hand gripped his swelling cock and skinned back his foreskin.

"That feels weird...this flap of skin..."

"Yes son, we don't have those. Pity...I believe they are extra sensitive..."

So the Flowers boys are cut are they...another piece of evidence to convict their asses when I go to the cops...

The hand began gently masturbating him, and he couldn't help moaning in spite of his humiliation. It wasn't a careful hand, or a skilled one, but it did the job for an always horny nineteen year old like Richard. Soon he was hard as steel and leaking.

"Stop that! The evil scum is enjoying himself. That's not what we agreed..." snarled the second voice, the one he thought of as Tim. The anger and hatred was so thick you could almost cut it. Richard quailed a little, even as the hand on his cock stopped its pleasuring.

"So what are we going to do with him then?"

"I thought we were going to have some fun and teach the scum a lesson."

"That is what we will do son, but don't deprive your brother of his own kind of fun. You like him touching you enough, let him explore the lad if that's what he wants." The deep voice carried command, and a sense of mischief. 'Tim' only snorted, but kept quiet.

A shuffling sound from in front of him scared Richard, and he realised 'Malcolm' had knelt in front of him. He had complete access to Richard's front under the railing, and Richard blushed at the thought of what he may do. He hadn't considered the Flowers boys as gay before, but the hint from old man Flowers had suddenly made him realise what he might be dealing with. And what he might be in for. The hands were back now, and something else...a flood of warm breath on the head of his cock. Then a sharp fingernail scraped across his piss slit and he yelled in protest.

"Looks like I found the sensitive part dad."

"There are more to be found than that son. Keep testing him out; I've got my own plans for this one."

Richard whimpered as the hands proceeded to roughly touch him, always ignoring his futile attempts at escape. He felt his scrotum pulled down painfully, then his balls were rolled in his sack. A finger traced the outline of his pubes, pulling on the curly dark blonde hairs until a couple dislodged, causing more laughter. The movement behind him began to take his notice though, as it became more troubling.

At first there was just the feel of a hand on his ass, gently stroking each cheek. The fondling became rougher though, spreading his cheeks and opening his cleft wide. A fingernail scraped down his crevice drawing fresh cries, and he felt a finger pressed on his virgin pucker. He begged for mercy, having an inkling of what was to come, but no mercy was forthcoming. The sack muffled his scream but not enough to prevent it echoing through the stable as a broad finger penetrated his clenching anus and drove in to the hilt.

"Tight...so tight. This will be the best feeling of all..."

"Noooo! Please! Don't do this! I'll...I'll pay you, all I have! Please!"

"Quiet little mare. Sometimes a stallion needs what he needs."

Richard felt a broad hot mass against his anus, pressing urgently. He clenched tight, willing this to be over. A hand gripped the scruff of his neck, pushing his head down and out until he was bent at 90 degrees over the railing, fighting and struggling in vain.

"Relax or it hurts more..."

"No! Fuck off!"

"As you wish."

The scream went on and on, until all that came out was a harsh moan. Still the penetration went on though. The first entry was the worst, Richard's virgin sphincter resisting for all it was worth until the constant pressure building against it finally won. His hole spread wide and violently, and several inches of thick cock plunged inside tearing across a taut tunnel unready for the entry. He screamed, only to draw in breath and scream again as a fresh thrust drove in even deeper.

Oh God...how could he take this? That man's cock must be bigger than a porn star's...

"That's it little one...take all of it. You thought you were better than me, didn't you? Well, feel how much better you are..."

The painful tearing invader pulled back, and Richard sobbed in thankfulness, believing in his delirious state that maybe the rape was over. Then the cock slammed in deep and he realised it was only just beginning, even as fresh waves of pain overtook his senses and he screamed a hoarse keening scream of torment.

And yet his cock remained hard, the hand still roughly masturbating him even as he took a cock up his ass. The other hand caressed his head, almost soothing under the canvas of the sack, a bizarre set of contrasts for the young Richard.

His attacker took his time, luxuriating in Richard's suffering at first. Each withdrawal was leisurely, almost playful, taken in stages with many a wiggle of this hips. The entries were varied, sometimes slow and teasing, sometimes rough plunges to the hilt. He never knew what was coming next. After a while though, one thing did change. The screaming pain merged with something else, something unexpected. A deep seated burning throbbing pleasure, that started in his guts and spread to his balls. His ass clenched, even though it had been cruelly spread and battered. And his assailant felt it too.

"Like that don't you little one."

"No!"

"Yes you do...I can feel it inside you."

Another cruel lunge of the hips brought the broad head of his rapist's cock against Richard's swelling nut, drawing a startled cry and a spurt of precum from his unruly cock.

Then his cry turned to a long deep sigh as something warm and wonderful engulfed his cock. He felt heat, and wetness, and beautiful blissful pleasure, and the amazing feeling of hot breath coming out in puffs against his pubes. 'Malcolm' had gone down on him, even as his father tore his ass to shreds, and the combination made Richard groan in shamed ecstasy mixed with the pain. To his eternal embarrassment he felt his body pushing back to take more cock, even as he shook with horror.

"Hmpf. As long as you keep doing that for me brother, I don't mind. I bet his tiny cock is a disappointment compared to mine anyway." The voice of Tim carried all the anger of before, with an added touch of acid. It didn't seem to deter Malcolm though, the warm mouth still suckling his cock as a hand caressed his churning balls.

The thrusts became harder and faster, a rapid drumbeat on his body and deep in his ass. He felt the power of those thrusts, smacking him against the railing and bruising his body. The grip on his neck became painful, almost choking, and yet the pleasure in his cock built too, until his whole body shook and he unloaded into the waiting mouth, his ass gripping the invader tight.

With one last balls deep thrust his attacker unleashed, snorting out a shuddering breath as his cock poured liquid fire into Richard's no longer virgin depths. The ejaculation went on for ages, flooding the terrified teen and spilling out past the damaged ring of his ass to drip down his taint. The man remained buried inside for a long time, still holding Richard bent over, before finally pulling him up standing and licking the appalled teen's neck.

"I've been waiting for that for so long."

Then Richard collapsed over the railing as the hand let go of his neck and the huge cock suddenly pulled from his ass with a wet plop. He felt his anus expel a small river of liquid, dripping across the soft hairs of his sack to pool under him. He was too dazed to think about it too much, though he feared the future. He was right too.

The second voice was behind him now, Tim. And his anger had turned to malice.

"He looks good that way. Pity we cant keep him."

"Now son..."

A finger suddenly spread his pained pucker, driving fingers deep inside as Richard struggled and cried out.

"I owe him...ohhhh how much I owe him..."

"I know son...and I have a plan..."

The hand slipped from his abused ass, and Richard sighed gratefully, but it was short lived. The hand grasped his hanging testicles, pulling back painfully, and then it squeezed.

"Please dad...I want these..."

"Not yet son."

"Please dad! I want to take them..."

"No son. We can't permanently damage him. Not yet, anyway. I have a better idea..."

Richard heard this exchange with mounting horror, his skin crawling. The hand left his testicles, and he waited stock still, hoping for the best. Then he heard another sound, equally as terrifying. The soft swish of a whip slicing through air, and the harsh crack at the end of its arc.

"All yours, son."

Richard was babbling now, and to his chngrin he found he was pissing himself, emptying his bladder into the stable floor like some horse. Malcolm directed his cock away to the side, letting the terrified teen finish before standing and running a hand over his head again.

"Poor Richard...poor Richard..."

A snarl came from behind.

"I'll show you poor Richard!"

The whip sang, then cracked like a gunshot. Fire lanced across Richard's left ass cheek, a pain that grew rather than dissipating as seconds passed. Another swish, another crack, and his right cheek exploded in matching pain.

"Always liked the whip, didn't you Richard. How do you like this one then? Not a puny riding crop, a nice heavy stockwhip..."

Richard sobbed and whimpered at each new impact. 'Tim' did his work thoroughly, covering Richard's ass in welts, then his thighs, then his back, before finally kissing the back of his scrotum with the tip. The teen fainted then, before being drawn back to consciousness by the agony of a hand crushing his testicles.

"No easy end for you Richard."

"Enough! It's time for what we came for." The deep voice rumbled. It brooked no argument, though 'Tim' tried.

"I thought this was what we came for?"

"No, this is just the first part. I have something even better in mind for our young friend."

"What do you mean dad?" piped up the youngster Malcolm.

"He came here, dumb, alone and cocky. On Halloween, with a full moon of all nights."

"So? Ohh....you don't mean..."

"Oh dad! Yes!"

"Yes boys, I do mean that!"

The deep voice was behind him again, and Richard tried to beg and struggle but he had little strength left. He felt the bulk crushing him, the same horrific pressure on his damaged ass. This time he had no way to fight, his anus had been slammed wide open and couldn't close. The thick burning mass drove inside as he cried out, and he felt his head gripped from the other side of the railing by ungentle hands.

"That's it Richard...you look so fine like that. It suits you. But I know what suits you even better."

The hands pulled him down, bent double over the railing as he was pounded from behind. His body screamed in pain, everywhere and everything. He could barely breathe.

"Now suck."

A hand lifted the sack over his head just enough to expose his mouth, while the other pushed the back of his head down. His lips touched something fleshy and hot. His nostrils flared as he sucked in blessed air, filling with an acrid strong musky smell.

He shook his head, but fingers just clamped over his nose, depriving him of air. He tried to fight, but he had to breathe...and as soon as he did, a thick fleshy mass invaded his mouth, making him gag. He tried to pull back but a firm hand pushed him down instead, and soon he had a cock buried in his throat.

"Bite just once and I tear off your balls Richard."

Ice like fear filled him, and he did his best to take the invading organ. It felt and tasted so different to what he expected, thicker at the head, fleshier and yet softer in some ways. The taste was foul, thick and pungent and cloying, and he gagged and tried to cope. The rapid hard fucking continued in his ass, now almost numb.

"Brother...my ass, go on...you know how much I like that..."

A soft giggle came from Malcolm, and Richard could almost imagine the sight before him even though he was blinded. He heard shuffling behind Tim, and a sudden shuddering cry of 'yessssss' as the younger brother licked his brother's ass. It repelled Richard as well as making him aroused, and the thought of a tongue licking his own crack made his hold clench around the invading cock in his tunnel. A deep chuckle from behind told him the reaction had been noticed.

"Good to see you enjoy...you will need to get used to it."

"Hmphfg!"

The hand on his head started to push down and pull up, fucking his mouth with steady strokes. He heard 'Tim' gasping for breath, and the hand turned into a claw, fingers digging through the sack into his blonde curls. Then a gasp and a single small spurt of something acrid, as the cock in his mouth twitched and throbbed, then pulled out.

"See son, you can still enjoy...now, my turn."

Richard felt his neck pulled back again, and suddenly he was standing crushed against the massive body behind him. Lips caressed his neck, and hands gripped his chest, pulling him closer. He felt on the edge of consciousness, the pain and the sensations too much. Teeth touched his neck, sharp and hard.

"Welcome, brother..."

Then his world filled with burning pain as the teeth bit hard, tearing his neck, and a last thrust buried the cock to the hilt in his ass, unloading a second torrent of cum. This one felt like lava, coating his oversensitive ass and burning from inside, a pain that grew and grew. He wanted to scream, to beg, to fly. Instead, something even more incredible happened. He came, buckets of seed splashing onto the concrete, and he finally passed out with a final cry of anguish.

*****

Richard awoke to the sound of footsteps on the stairs. He fought the dazed sensation that engulfed him, and suddenly sat upright in shock as memory returned.

He was in bed, back in his room. His clothes were on the desk, muddied and torn. He felt terrible...and as he touched his body experimentally, he felt bruises and sore spots everywhere.

Walking unsteadily into the bathroom, he locked the door and turned to the mirror. When he turned around, he almost cried out. Livid welts covered his body, down his back, over his ass and down his thighs. He gingerly tested out his ass, finding it incredibly sore to touch. His fingers came back covered in liquid; blood and something else.

"I will get them...they will never get out of jail, ever. Ever!"

Richard pulled on clothes and tore down the stairs, almost knocking his father down in his haste. He had one goal only then, to confirm his fears before he brought the mother of all shitstorms down on his tormentors.

Ignoring his father's questions, he tore across the field to the stable. The door was still unlocked, and he ran down the corridor before coming to a screeching halt.

All the horses were back. They raised their heads as he came in, all looking at him with unblinking stares. Champion gave a sort of mocking nicker and nodded his head, then went back to eating his hay.

"Richard, what the devil is going on!"

"Where are the Flowers?"

"In town, I sent them to get supplies. Why?"

"Good."

Richard stormed back to the house and dialled.

*****

The police officer was polite. He was too professional to be anything else. Underneath though; well, his thoughts were somewhat less polite.

"So, er...your statement is complete I see, and the examinations have finished, the police surgeon has reviewed all the details and of course the lab samples."

"Good. So when are you going to arrest them?"

"Who?"

"Old man Flowers and his two pervert sons that's who."

"Errr..., Richard, we need to talk about a few things."

"What? It's all straightforward isn't it?"

"No, not so much. We have been investigating of course, and the trouble is, well, everything we have found so far raises more questions than it answers."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, for starters, the Flowers all have an alibi for the time of the attack. They went to the Wheatsheaf for dinner and stayed for a trivia night and to see friends, they didn't leave until midnight. They could not have been there at 9:30 in the stable."

A roaring began in Richard's ears then, and he tried to filter it out and focus on the police officer's words, but they didn't seem to make much sense.

"I don't understand..."

"Also, there is no evidence that your horses were moved or in any way interfered with. As far as we can tell, they were there the whole night."

"But..thats..impossible..." the roaring had become a loud din now.

"Most interesting of all though...well, we did certainly examine the injuries you sustained. Certainly there were obvious whip marks that we found, and there was evidence of, well, anal trauma."

Well, at least I didn't imagine that...

"But, well, the samples were analysed and...I don't know how to say this really, Sir, but...well, you do know bestiality is still a crime, don't you?"

The roar became painful, like waves crashing against his skull.

"Bestiality..."

"Yes. The samples were fairly conclusive I'm afraid. Equine...horse, to be exact."

The roaring stopped.

"Horse?"

"Yes. Ahh...is there anything you would like to tell me Sir? Are you for example involved in some form of unusual bondage ring? Or are you prone to blackouts, unusual periods you cant account for? There could be a variety of psychiatric conditions..."

"I'm not mad dammit!"

"No, of course not Sir. Far from it; we don't use that term any more anyway. We are still investigating though, and, well...it would be far better for you to come to us Sir, if you know what I mean."

Richard left the interview in a daze, his head still reeling. He couldn't believe it; and yet, a part of him knew.

"No....no...no..."

He stumbled back home, collapsing on his bead. His father refused to talk to him these days, appalled at his own son's bizarre behaviour, and mortified that the Flowers had been dragged into it. Nothing was worse than being made to look bad in front of your own help.

As Richard lay on his back and stared at the ceiling, the sensations from the night replayed in his mind. The feeling of being filled, the mouth on his cock. The bite...

"Ohhhhhhhh"

The feelings were growing now. Whenever he remembered them, his whole body burned, and most of all his ass tingled. It tingled now, and he reached back to touch his hole. It winked at him, inviting, and he slid two fingers inside to scratch the itch that had become an almost daily need now.

His fingers found the spongy mass of his prostate, and he was soon frigging his own ass hard, while one hand sped across his cock. Soon he couldn't hold back and sprayed a fountain of cum across his body, back arched and every muscle straining. As he relaxed, panting in exertion, he gave his cock a long languid stroke and spread the pool of cum on his belly across his skin.

"What?!"

He had seen it before, but not really noticed. Apart from a nice patch of dark blonde pubes, and a scattering on his scrotum, Richard had been mostly hairless. Not now though; now as he spread the pool of cum it wetted a long thick treasure trail that rose from his groin circled his navel and rose to meet a thick patch between his pecs. Each pert nipple was surrounded by its own circle too, and as he stared he realised his pecs had filled out remarkably, as had his shoulders. He flexed his new muscles uncomprehendingly, still stroking his rapidly rehardening cock.

Then he noticed that too. His cock had previously barely poked from the confining grip of his fist when he jacked. Now it extended a good few inches longer than before, and the head flared broad and purple like a big plum. He stared fascinated as he slowly jacked, drawing a large droplet of precum from his slit. He cupped his balls, heavier now and always aching with need.

Determined to ignore the evidence of his eyes, he lay back instead to listen to the need in his body, pleasuring his cock until another hard cum splattered across his chest.

And still his balls ached...

"What the hell..."

*****

A month after it happened, on another full moon, Richard was in his room again. With all the drama, he had sat but probably failed his exams again. He didn't know what his father would do, maybe kick him out and force him to fend for himself. Once that would have terrified him, but now it seemed almost banal compared to what was happening to him.

The changes had continued, lush blonde hair growing on his legs and arms and across his chest, and his muscles continued to swell even as his cock and balls followed suit. A small nub at the base of his spine had developed, and he fiddled with it constantly as if it might tell him what was happening.

His sense of smell had developed too, and it took him by surprise. Most surprising was the night he found his onetime girl, Samantha. He had gone to visit, and found her in the barn, just like their first time. This time he could smell her though, smell her scent. And it spoke of need.

They hadn't even spoken much. One look at him made her gasp and widen her eyes. He took her in his arms and kissed with a hunger he never remembered with any girl, and quickly had her naked and laid back on the hay.

He ate her pussy with wild abandon until she begged, and when he stripped for her she had covered her mouth in shock, amazed at the changes in the gangly awkward guy she knew. He had taken her so effortlessly, and pounded into her like he never had with a girl before. All his usual insecurity and lack of control was gone. He mated her until her cunt overflowed with his seed, then kept on until she was scratching his back and begging. When he finished, she could only lie on the hay and watch him dress with sleepy eyes.

She had been ringing him every day since, but he hadn't responded. Something inside held him back, some invisible dread. Now the something was growing again, and he knew he had to go to the stables to find what he sought.

Rising from the bed, he ignored the clothes by his bedside. He didn't have many that fit him any more anyway. Something told him this was right...this was what he needed. He passed his father's room quietly and stole through the kitchen, crossing the field to the stable.

The door was unlocked. Dimly, he remembered leaving it unlocked today.

So you could get in easily when the time came brother...

The lights on the far wall were on, and he walked with increasing dread down the corridor. He should have been terrified, but a part of him always knew.

The horses were gone again, the stalls empty.

"Welcome to your herd Richard..."

Suddenly he felt two figures at his side. They gripped him tight, with hands that dug painfully into muscles. He wanted to cry out, but he couldn't. Instead, he felt a shudder go through his body, and he would have fallen to the concrete without the hands holding him up.

Terrified, he turned to his right to look at the face of his companion.

The face was that of a horse, bay colouring with black ears and mane, and black muzzle. But the body was that of a man/horse, massive and powerful, with bulging thighs above delicate fetlocks and hooves. He gasped as he took in the sight that most shocked him; at his groin, a sheath above a pair of massive low hanging testicles in a black velvet bag, and poking from the sheath, the beginnings of a pink mottled horsecock.

"C...Champion...?!"

"Yes Richard. Now you know..."

Whirling his head to the other side, Richard saw his other companion was a Red Roan, with sparkling brown eyes full of mischief as well as care, and a long red brown mane.

"Rogue...?"

"Welcome brother..."

Richard was too dumbfounded to respond, instead eyeing up the equine beside him. Long limbs, muscled but not bulky, his read roan coat almost shimmering. Then the groin, a sheath but no heavy bag of testicles below.

"Yes Richard, a gelding. Thanks to you. He can still have some fun though, and don't worry we are going to have a lot of fun with you tonight."

A sensation began to crawl over Richard's body, a tingling mixed with a burning. He looked now at his own chest, and the freshly grown pelt of hair between his pecs. It was thickening before his eyes, turning into a complete covering of buff fur, and he cried out as his chest expanded even more, the ribs breaking and reforming, the muscles bulging and flexing. His whole body was on fire and he felt weak with the change, crying out as suddenly his legs broke and reformed under him, the extra joint of a fetlock now taking the place of his shins, and his toes curling into a solid mass as hooves formed on his feet. He followed the progress of his change in terror.

This isn't happening...this isn't happening.

"Ahhh, welcome brother. Now, I've been looking forward to this so much..."

A limp Richard, now not Richard, managed to raise his head enough to look at the newcomer. A bay, like Champion by his side, but smaller. And like Rogue, without a sack below his sheath.

"V...Vagabond..."

"Yes. How does the rider like becoming the ridden brother?"

Richard was stunned to see a hint of pink cock poking from Vagabond's sheath, the flare pulsing in the air. He looked up to see the equine with a huge grin, then across to his hands. Now he knew why the horse was so amused.

In one hand, Vagabond carried the shiny mass of an emasculator. In the other, a fine scalpel.

"Sorry we don't have any anaesthetic Richard...but that would be a shame, anyway."

*****

Richard's father sat in his kitchen. It was a bright Sunday morning, and he would normally enjoy his cup of tea and toast with marmalade on a day like this, but something was bothering him. Richard hadn't come down to breakfast, and when he went up to check on him, his son's bed hadn't looked as if it had been slept in. There was no sign of the boy, and no sign of him downstairs either. He hadn't taken the car, and he had left his wallet and phone by his bed.

The farmer nibbled his toast absently, but his heart wasn't really in it. He had been worrying about the boy ever since the strange night a month ago when he claimed the Flowers' had assaulted him and stolen their horses. The whole story had been totally fanciful, and besides, he knew that Martin Flowers would never do any such thing.

Richard's mother had died years ago, but not before confiding in him about her family's secret. Martin's wife had been her illegitimate older sister, adopted out when her mother was too young to stop them. Richard's mother had tracked down her lost sibling, and when she died, Richard had ensured that her family were taken care of. There was no way Martin would harm his own nephew, or steal their horses.

Of course, should Richard not have been born, under the terms of the will, Martin would inherit and then his sons. Richard's mother had ensured they were acknowledged in the estate, dependant as it was on the male line like many old estates around here. Traditions died hard.

Richard had seemed fine though, at least physically, as a result of whatever happened. Indeed, he seemed in the rudest of health.

He decided to head for the stables to see if Martin had seen Richard today. Finally able to act decisively, he whistled a tune as he headed for the building. The door was unlocked, and he headed for the stalls with a spring in his step. He always enjoyed being around the horses.

"Morning Sir!"

"Ohhh, Martin, enough of that.!"

"Right you are Desmond. How are you today?"

"Well, worried about Richard, to be honest, have you seen him?"

"Not so far, why?"

"Hmmm, well...."

He stopped suddenly, aware of the anomaly that had been battering his brain as soon as he walked in.

"What is this?"

"Ahhh, found him in the paddock this morning. Pretty thing isn't he?"

He looked over the object of their discussion. In the stall with Champion stood another horse. Desmond eyed him keenly. He certainly was a pretty one, and well put together. About 15 and a half hands, well muscled. A beautiful palomino, with a shock of curly blonde mane and tail, and a white blaze on his nose. As he stared the unknown horse came forward his eyes wide and ears twitching, and tried to break through the barrier to get to the farmer.

"Affectionate one isn't he?"

"Aye, very tame but a little skittish. I've notified the authorities, but no one so far has claimed him."

"Gelding?"

The farm manager chuckled as if at some private joke.

"Yeah, about 4 I would say by the teeth. Beautiful though, some good breeding here. If no one claims him, do you think we could keep him? I've been wanting to teach the boys to ride, and he could be perfect."

"Well, I cant see anyone not claiming one like this, but just in case, alright, but don't tell the boys yet, I don't want to get their hopes up."

"Right you are Sir."

"Oh, shouldn't we keep him away from Champion?"

Martin Flowers smiled then, eying up the new gelding who was trying hard to get the farmer's attention.

"Nah, you should see them together. Love eachother they do, Champion is very protective as well. Makes a perfect buddy for him."

"Well, I guess for now, and we don't have another stall at the moment anyway. Will you keep an eye on them this morning?"

"Happily Sir"

"Well, I'm off to see if I can find Richard."

"Good luck."

Desmond headed back towards the house, musing on the strange things in the world. That someone would let a horse like that just wander...it didn't make sense. No more that his son's bizarre behaviour though, and that was real enough.

As he approached the kitchen door, he heard a loud whinny from the stable, and a matching nicker. He smiled a little in memory. Champion usually gave that whinny when he serviced a mare, sort of his signature whinny. He always associated it with the stallion being happy.

Maybe his new companion was just what the stallion needed after all, if it made him as happy as that.