The Toymaker

Once upon a time, in a far away county, there lived a toymaker who lived alone and was lonely. He longed for a child of his own to make his toys for but that would require having a wife. And he did not want a wife. He wanted a husband. So he continued, making toys day after day for other people's children, other people's families, knowing that he would always be alone.

But he still watched the men of the village, still saw a kind mouth, handsome face, sturdy hands...and sometimes, late at night when he was alone and done all of his work, he would carve the things he had seen.

Soon, he had a pile of them--heads, hands, arms, legs, torsos...and he thought, why not put them together? Why not make a husband for myself, if only a wooden one?

So, he wired the pieces together like a doll, with the best joints he could build--Johann's legs, Wat's body, Peter's hands, the innkeeper's face...until he had built a man. Perfect, for himself.

The town's seamstress suspected nothing when he ordered men's clothes, and why should she?

The toymaker knew it was foolish, to be modest about a naked doll, but they weren't that well acquainted yet. And the anatomy was detailed. Soon, the toymaker slept curled against the doll--sometimes holding it, sometimes having it hold him. He ate meals with the doll sitting across from him (after he built a second chair). He spoke to it, told it everything about himself.

He was careful not to let the townsfolk see the doll, and to still be as involved in the community as he ever had been, but they still noticed that he was happier, his toys grander and more complicated than ever.

One night, a woman passed through town, looking for a place to spend the night. The inn was full, so she was sent to the toymaker's. He gave her his bed for the night, and he
made her a hot meal. Being gifted with special powers, she wanted to thank him for the kindness he had shown. When she asked him how she could repay, he blushed slightly and said he had everything he needed.

She pretended to be very tired, and retired to his bedroom. She knew he wanted something, but not what. She saw a large object covered by a cloth. Pulling the cloth aside, she found a life sized wooden doll of a man. Looking more closely she recognized the face. She thought she understood.

She began to prepare for the spell. 'It won't quite be your heart's desire,' she thinks, 'but I hope that it will be enough and you will always thank me.'

With that, she completed the spell, and left, continuing her journey.

The next morning, the toymaker woke and knocked softly on his bedroom door. When there was no answer, he opened the door.

His doll was sitting on the bed. His first reaction was shame--what must she think of this? Quickly followed by anger--how dare she so abuse his hospitality!

Then he realized the doll looked...different. It no longer looked like wood, but...not entirely like skin. More like wood covered in leather. The joints were still there, but covered with the same leather so they were no longer bare.

And the eyes! The eyes had been simply painted wood. Now they look almost real, fine glass orbs that sparkled in the morning sun.

Part of him was ashamed that she had seen this, part is angry that she changed it, but he was also touched by the beauty she's added to the doll.

He heard a gentle creak. The doll was now looking at him. It hadn't been before.

Stone and Goats: A Fairytale

The young goatherd trilled a happy song as he followed his charges out of the village toward the spring and summer pastures up the mountain. There are still patches of snow here and there, but as soon as the boy saw that winter was truly over, his feet had literally begun to itch and he knew it was time. He twirled his crook in time to his song, watching Lead Goat and thinking how happy he was to be alive, and young, and free, on such a beautiful day.

This was his third year as the goatherd. When he had heard that the old goatman had come down from the mountain for the last time and was looking for someone young to replace him, the boy had found a hundred reasons to be near the goat’s winter stable, helping with feeding and cleaning.

The goatman understood—the boy was an orphan, and while the village wouldn’t turn him away and he would always have food and shelter, he was not exactly welcome. Soon, he would be in the same position, but he knew that he could not last another year following the goats. He showed the boy how to check the goats from horntips to hooves, how to tell each goat apart by markings and personality, and about how important Lead Goat was. Finally, he gave the boy his crook without a word, and left the goats to his keeping, trying to hide his tears.

The boy was never happier than when he was alone on the mountain, drinking warm, fresh milk and cold stream water, and eating whatever he could find or catch. The goats mostly took care of themselves, and Lead Goat was old and wise. The villagers were afraid of the mountain, but the boy loved it.

The goats led him steadily up, until they found themselves in a lush valley, where the grass was already thick on the ground, and there was no snow in sight. Lead Goat bleated and the others lowered their heads and began to graze. The boy smiled and watched them. There was no sound but the wind through the grass, the occasional bird, the dull clanking of Lead Goat’s bell, and the solemn munching of the goats, just as happy to leave the village as the boy.

The boy set a few snares around likely-looking holes, but was content for the moment to rest after his walk. He found a stone outcrop that was a perfect seat—a bowl shape with a slightly rounded back. He settled himself, and realized that he was finally alone. Blushing a little, he realized that his cock was already quite aware of that fact, thank you very much, and that it expected him to make good use of his privacy.

Despite being of an age where his cock was quite demanding, the boy found it very difficult to relieve himself when there were always, always people around during his winter stay in the village. Even staying close to the goats wasn’t safe. He has never had a lover—no one would ever leave him alone with their daughters, even if the girls would talk to him. He took a moment to savour his absolute isolation—the goats wouldn’t care. In fact, some of them were currently doing exactly that. Slowly, he pulled off his tunic and leggings, setting them in a neat pile beside himself, until he’s only wearing his soft boots. Sprawling naked in the soft spring sun, the rock warm beneath him, he leisurely touches himself. It feels like his balls are holding an entire winter’s worth of seed, though he knows it isn’t true. It isn’t long before he cums on his stone seat, and he prepares to have a little nap, mindful always of the sound of Lead Goat’s bell, and any other signs of alarm from the goats.

In his quiet state, it takes him a moment to realize that something is different. The first thing he notices is that his legs are being forced apart by something. At first he thinks it’s some sort of pole, but it’s made of soft flesh. As he squirms, trying to figure out what is going on, he realizes that his whole seat is no longer stone, but…he’s sitting in a giant lap!

The giant looked down at him over his big black and green beard. “Humans have gotten smaller,” he remarked, black eyes crinkling in a smile. His hands came up to hold the goatherd’s waist so he wouldn’t fall.

The boy’s eyes and mouth widened in a silent scream and he would have fallen if not for the hands. “Please don’t eat me!” he squeaked.

“I will not eat you.” the giant chuckled, the laugh rumbling. His speech was a little unusual, older and simpler.

“You promise?” the boy asked, trying to sound as brave as he could. He suddenly realized that he’s straddling an erection the size of his calf, and that he had, presumably, just cum on the giant holding him. Embarrassment overtook fear as his main emotion, and he grabbed for his clothes. He remembered the shame of being caught touching himself for the first time, and the beating that followed.

The giant put him down gently, shifting to a kneeling position. “I promise. I do not eat humans, or anything that talks.”

The boy gazed up, quickly pulling his clothes on. “…what about goats?” he asked, reaching for the small sling he keeps to drive off predators. He heard the clank of Lead Goat’s bell as the goat noticed that their human was distressed. The goat bleated and gave the giant a disapproving look.

“They talk too.” the giant offered his big hand to Lead Goat, “She’s making sure you are safe.”

The boy watched as the goat sniffed the hand, bleats again, and wandered back to the others. He nods, satisfied. He stood, mouth slightly open, a little frown on his face as he tried to think of what to say next.

The giant stone-man stands. “Thank you for waking me. I have slept for a long time.” he smiled, towering over the little goatherd.

The boy nodded again, still gazing up in awe. “I was, ah, sitting on you?”

“More than sitting, yes?” he smiled.

The boy blushed again, eyes filling with tears, fists clenched. He would never have touched himself again after that, if the old goatman hadn’t noticed his… discomfort one day and taken him aside to explain.

“Are you unhappy?” the giant frowned, not understanding why the boy was embarrassed “It is natural. All animals enjoy.”

“We aren’t animals.” the boy whispered, turning to glance at the goats, repeating what he had been told when he was caught. “…do you?” he asked, shyly.

“When I am awake.” he smiled. “I like to.” he wrapped his fingers around the base of his cock.

The boy watched, his eyes wide again. He was completely surprised that this… male… would touch himself so openly… and by the size. Part of him longed to touch it, wrap his hands around it…

The giant, picking up on the boy’s interest, lazily stroked himself. His foreskin retreated as he hardens further, revealing the reddened head that resembles smooth quartz.

The boy nibbles his lip, and stared with open longing at the enormous cock, clearly holding himself back.

The giant stopped touching himself, and held his hand out for the boy, inviting him closer.

The boy shook his head wildly, wide-eyed, but found himself stepping closer. He reached the hand first, and lightly explored it. The skin is dark and almost leathery, each finger easily as large as his own cock. On a moment of whimsy, he leans back against the palm, which covers most of his torso, laughing softly.

The giant smiled happily, and ran his fingertips over the boy’s chest and belly, surprisingly gently. He let the little human take his time.

The boy laughed again, enjoying the feeling. Quickly, before he can doubt himself, he danced out of the hand and reaches the giant’s cock. Wrapping his hands around the base, his fingers just touch. He noticed that the organ is smoother than his, without veins or loose skin, almost more the suggestion of a penis on a statue than a real one. It felt as smooth as a stone from a stream, but hot as blood.

With a pleased groan, the giant put his hands on the boy’s back, stroking the length of his body. He pulled the boy closer.

The boy smiled, more or less sitting in one palm as his hands continued exploring. The erection gently tapered, flaring out into a broad flat head with a small hole. He frowned-- he doesn’t like touching himself with dry hands, but spitting on them seems… wrong. Not to mention insufficient.

With a knowing nod, the giant completely surprised the boy by bending and taking his own cock in his mouth almost half way to the base. He pulled his mouth back, leaving his cock pleasantly damp like a wet stone.

Thor and Loki

(Yes, I did just watch Thor...the horribly mangled mythology...! But I've loved Norse mythology since I was little, and Carcajou hasn't seen it yet, so there.)

After a feast one night, when most of Asgaard has gone to bed, Loki has...imbibed rather more than he perhaps should have. Spying Thor as he stumbles back to his room, he grins, throwing a wiry arm around his fellow god's shoulder.

"Loki." Thor chuckled, seeing the other's state. "Has it been a good night?"

"Yessss..." the shorter man purrs, breathing meady breath onto Thor's beard. "It always is...for me..."

The larger god laughed. "And what are you celebrating?"

Loki shrugs bonelessly. "Oh, n'thing. Always. But you...well..." he chuckles, turning his most innocent, wide-eyed look Thor's way. "...Sif came to see me last night."

"Did she now?" Thor said, starting to walk, letting Loki lean on him.

The trickster happily curls against Thor, pressing himself against the larger god's side like wet rawhide. "She said...says...she s'not satisfied. With you. As a man. With your penis." He grins in a satisfied sort of way.

Thor frowned down at Loki. "You're very drunk, trickster. I'd rather not beat you when you're in this condition."

"Woul'n feel anything," the dark-haired god grins amorously. "Go 'head."

Thor used a single finger, pushing on Loki's forehead until he started to tip over.

"Noo! There s'an earthquake!" Loki shouts, much more loudly than strictly necessary, flailing his arms wildly and trying to grab onto any available part of Thor.

Thor pushed him back until he fell, then put a foot on the god's chest. "Sleep it off. I'll beat you tomorrow." he smirked.

Loki moans, staring up at Thor with wide eyes, his mouth slightly parted, and...visibly interested. "...why beat me tomorrow...when you can beat me off now...?"

Thor just laughed. "I'll remind you of what you've said tomorrow." he turned and walked off, grinning to himself.

The trickster flops on the floor for a bit before managing to stand, apologizing to the wall as he uses it to stumble after Thor.

Thor retired to his own room, undressing to his loincloth - not sure if Loki would try to sneak into bed with him or not. He rolled so that his back was to the door, closing his eyes.

Loki jiggles the door latch for quite some time, before realizing it's not locked and simply letting himself in. He nearly trips over the pile of clothes, which apparently prompts him to undress as well.

Thor groans, rolling over and sitting up. "Loki." he sighed.

"Mm-hmm?" The completely naked Loki insinuates himself onto Thor's lap, trying to make eye contact until his head flops forward onto the other's shoulder.

Thor growls a little, trying to grab Loki without *grabbing* him. "Your room is down the hall."

"Mm-hmmm..." he repeats, with slightly different inflection.

Thor stood, picking Loki up with him and walking to the door.

Loki is very, very hard to hold onto when he doesn't want to be held, and is soon in a liquid heap in front of Thor's feet. He reaches up to squeeze Thor's bits through the loincloth, grinning. "Mmm, I s'pose you're a man... a little..."

"Just a little? I'm twice the man you are just in weight alone." he chuckled, nudging the puddle on the floor with a bare foot.

The dark god kneels, hands behind his back as though he's bound, and plants a (rather sloppy) kiss on the loincloth bulge, wrapping one arm around Thor's waist to make dislodging more difficult. The other hand absently strokes the foot.

Thor's lips part as he gives a soft groan, eyes closing. He puts a hand on the back of Loki's head, curling his fingers in Loki's wild hair.

Loki gasps, and the loincloth is on the floor before either of them realize what's happening. Loki's neck is beautifully stretched to keep Thor from pulling -too- hard. His mouth is now firmly on Thor's cock.

"Loki.." Thor growled, grabbing him more tightly, gaining control over the god's motions.

Loki gasps in reply, his cock becoming fully erect, loving the feeling of Thor's very impressive manhood in his mouth, and his deadly strength on his hair.

Thor's cock swelled impressively in the other god's mouth and he curled two fingers under Loki's jaw, pulling him closer, forcing his cock deeper.

Loki's eyes widen--as impressive as Thor is soft, it's nothing compared to his full erect size--and he tries to adjust his jaw, only to be thwarted by the fingers. He shudders with rapture, wrapping his hand around the shaft to keep it from fully penetrating him.

Thor's fingers tightened, thumbs pressing into the side of Loki's neck, cutting off his air.

The trickster gasps, looking a little panicked, wondering if he's actually pushed the other god too far this time.

Thor looks down at him with heated eyes, smiling dangerously.

Loki tries to pull back, pushing at the other's massive hips with both hands, mouth trapped on the cock by the hands around his neck.

Thor slowly releases him, letting him know that he didn't have to.

Loki falls onto his back as soon as he's released, glaring up at Thor, eyes blazing.

Thor lifts him up by his hair, pulling him roughly to his feet.

Almost immediately, Loki's eyes go unfocused and half-close, his body relaxing at the rough treatment, staring dreamily up at Thor.

Thor tosses him onto the bed, following him and kneeling over him, pinning the other god's arms.

Loki gasps, smiling wickedly and delightedly up at his captor, trying to flip over.

Thor just smirks and lifts Loki's hips, nudging his cock against Loki's anus.

"Nnnn--ahhh!!!" Loki gasps, delicately writhing his hips, trying to squirm free of the powerful arms pinioning him.

Thor found the right angle and slid all the way into Loki all at once.

Loki screams as though he's birthing a foal, trying to scrabble away. He closes his eyes tightly, and his ass is no longer completely dry, but pleasantly lubricated. He shivers, cursing fluently. "...you've never done that before have you?" he asks in a rush. His drunkeness is coveniently absent.

Thor hesitated before another thrust. "Is this wrong?"

"...no..." Loki answers, sighing. Then, realizing that someday, somehow, the great lummox might try this with another man, he quickly ammends his statement--"yes. Fuck now. Explain later."

Thor frowns at him, but finishes his thrust, cock punching against Loki's prostate.

"Aahhhhhhhyeahhhhh...." Loki gasps eloquently, eyes closed in rapture, long fingers curling back to claw at Thor's hands on his forearms.

The larger god growls, pinning Loki's hands, entwining their fingers. He slid in and out, not realizing that the slipperiness of Loki's anus was unnatural.

Loki has to spread his fingers quite wide to accomodate his lover's, but--he doesn't mind. He goes completely loose, enjoying the relative luxory of just being fucked without having to do anything.

Thor bit Loki's chest as he started to cum, groaning into the other god's skin as he filled him.

Loki screams again, biting his lip at the delicious pain, cumming frantically at the combination of the bite and feeling Thor finish in him--he's been thinking about this for...a while.

Thor sighed, rolling off Loki after a moment, chuckling.

Loki shivers violently, then lies still, panting a little, frowning at the sticky mess on his chest until it politely disappears.

Thor smiled, pinching the dark bruise he'd left on Loki. As he pinched it, it rearranged its shape into Mjolnir.

Loki, eyes closed, snuggles up against Thor, grinning a little at the pinch. "What're you chuckling about?" he asks, yawning.

"You can't claim to have stolen that." he poked the bruise with a giant finger.

"Ow!" Loki opens his eyes, staring in speechless amazement at the bruise.

Thor wrapped Loki in his big arms, crushing the other god to his chest. "You're mine now. We'll see if you regret it tomorrow."

Nightfall in Old Quebec

(We totally didn't just watch Eclipse. Nope. Not us. Pretty, foppish 18th c. vampires and half-naked native werewolves? Never seen 'em. *heh*)

Sylvain is tired after running all night, uncomfortably aware of how close dawn is. He hasn't heard his pursuit for a while, though while he can outrun a horse for a while, he doesn't have the same stamina, so he keeps running, unaware of the markers showing that he's entering someone else's territory.

It doesn't take long for his scent to be picked up. A sleek gray wolf trails him, watching him run for a time, judging his speed and strength.

Sylvain is peripherally aware of the wolf, and part of him thinks that it following him is a little odd, but it doesn't seem to be an immediate threat.

After a few minutes of watching, the wolf speeds up, overtaking him and leaping at Sylvain to knock him down.

The elegantly (if rather worse for wear after his night) dressed man gasps as he's knocked down, quickly turning and snarling at the wolf, expecting the animal to back down.

The animal's hackles went up and it snarled back at him, one paw on either side of him. It was larger than a normal wolf and seemed different than an animal. It seemed quite angry.

A little frightened, especially because he's not up to full strength, Sylvain tries to push the wolf away. Something about the animal seems wrong, but he can't quite place the feeling.

The wolf's fur seemed to melt away and above him crouched a man. He was foreign looking to the French man, dark-skinned with high cheekbones and long black hair. The man stood, looking down at him angrily. "What are you?" he asked in French.

"...loup-garou..." Sylvain gasps, straightening his clothing and trying to look more respectable--and respectful. His Master had told him that the wolf-people could be formidable. "Forgive me, Master Wolf. I meant no offense."

"You are trespassing." the wolf-man snarled. "What are you? What do you run from?" he still stood over the vampire, putting a bare foot on the cravat, pressing him down into the ground.

Sylvain moans softly, his eyes rolling back in his head. This was exactly why his Master had sent him away--in the hopes that he would learn to be less submissive before he got himself killed by his prey. Sylvain carefully opens his mouth, showing his dainty fangs.

The wolf's foot pressed down harder. "Answer me."

"Ahh..." the French vampire gasps, "I'm...a vampire."

"A Jumlin." he used a word that Sylvain didn't understand, laughing. "Impossible. They are hard warriors, not weak."

Sylvain raises an eyebrow, trying to lift the foot off his throat--even though he doesn't technically need to breathe, talking isn't the easiest in this position.

The wolf kicked aside his hand, putting his foot to Sylvain's chest instead. "What was chasing you, evil spirit?"

Sylvain settles himself more comfortably on the rough ground, closing his eyes to keep from gibbering and trying to suck the gorgeous wolf's cock immediately. "I'm not an evil spirit. I'm...like you. And I was being chased by humans."

"Do you fear them?" the wolf laughed again. "You are weak indeed, not like the stories."

The vampire makes a haughty face, looking as dignified as he can, lying in the dirt. "Of course not. Not usually. But they don't usually know what I am. And there were lots of them. And usually I could just move on, but here..." he gestures at the vast, still forest, "...there's nowhere to go."

"Nowhere?" he seemed confused. "There is everywhere."

A brief look of disgust crosses the pinned man's pale face. "There's nothing here. I can't...just live on roots and berries. I need people."

The wolf's lips parted in a predatory grin. "Can you trade for safe passage?"

Sylvain raises his eyebrows again, gesturing at himself. "...I didn't exactly come prepared for trading."

"You can offer nothing?" the wolf licked his lips.

Sylvain doesn't like where this is going. "...are there more of you? What's your name?" he asks.

"I am Tala, chief of my pack. There are more of us. What is your name?"

"Ah, forgive my terrible manners. I am Sylvain. Perhaps...I could sit up, and we could carry on this conversation in a more...civilized...manner?" Sylvain has nothing against the natives, whether they turn into wolves or not--he sees them as people, nothing more or less.

After a moment, Tala nods, taking his foot off Sylvain's chest.

"Thank you." Sylvain sits up, rubbing his chest out of habit. "...what kind of trade were you thinking?" he asks, uneasily.

"We feed you, you teach us about your kind." he crouched next to Sylvain, long hair falling over his shoulder.

Sylvain eyes the larger, more powerful man warily, smelling his warm, animal scent. "...why?" he asks, subtly leaning away without realizing it.

"There are more Jumlin, where you are from? They will come here, as you have." Tala said, lip curling a little. "We will be prepared."

"What are Jumlin?" he asks, wondering if, now that he's rested a little, he wouldn't be better off just to run for it.

"They are descended from a Medicine Man who brought forth an evil spirit. They are cruel and have a lust for blood. They feed on Braves and live until they are destroyed."

The pale man shrugs. "...I do drink blood," he says, giving his most innocent, wide-eyed expression (that always melted his Master completely), "but do I seem cruel?" He bats his eyelashes, eyes flicking from side to side, looking for the best escape route.

"No, you seem weak." Tala stood upright again, stepping on Sylvain's hand. "Do not try to run, the pack is watching us."

Sylvain flinches as his hand is crushed, eyes widening with fear at the announcement, and the knowledge of how easily his thought had been perceived. He nods. "What do you want?" he asks, with a hint of a growl. "I'm not as weak as all that."

"I told you what I want, and I will take it." the wolf's pupils dilated as he looked down at Sylvain.

Panicking, Sylvain tries to pull away, using all of his depleted strength and speed to push the wolf off and run for the trees, knowing very well what the dilated pupils mean.

Tala lets him pull free, watching as he's brought down by two other wolves. "Take him to the den." he says, resuming his wolf form and following his packmates.

The vampire screams before he can help himself, then remembers that he's probably still being hunted and bites his lip to keep silent, allowing himself to be dragged away, despite the none-too-comfortable sensation of the wolves' fangs digging into his arm and further ruining his clothing.

***

Once they arrive back at the den -literally an underground cave, though more comfortable looking than Sylvain had expected, as it had furs and other comforts- Tala and the other wolves became human. The wolves holding Sylvain's arms released him, throwing him down onto a pile of furs.

Sylvain arranges himself on the furs, a little sulkily, looking at the ragged tears in his sleeves and watching the wounds dry, leaving only crusted blood on the surface and what looks like an old scar. He looks around, the dimness no problem for him.

Tala sits on the furs across from Sylvain. One of his wolves sits behind him in wolf form, acting as a cushion so he can rest against the furry side. "Where are you from?"

The captive smiles at the sight of a man casually leaning on a huge wolf, despite himself. "From France, can't you tell? Specifically from Gascony."

"Were you born as a ....vampire?" he scratched his pack member's ear idly.

Sylvain stifles a laugh, watching the casual gesture, something any man would do with his dog, but seeming so strange here. "Ah. No. I was made this way." He blushes a little at the memory. "...what about you?"

"We are born this way. How were you made?" Tala asked, picking up on the blush.

"I, ah...my Master found me...and wanted to keep me..." he feels as though he's talking about sex, making it difficult.

"What did he do to change you?"

The vampire nibbles his thumb, a very human gesture. "...he drank my blood, and I drank his," he says, as simply as he can, without going into detail.

"How long ago?" Tala asked, watching Sylvain predatorily.

Shifting uncomfortably under the powerful gaze, Sylvain automatically answers, "Thirty years?" his nervousness making it a question rather than a statement.

"You do not know?"

"Yes, I do. It was thirty years ago. 1716."

Tala nodded, burying his fingers in the thick ruff of the wolf he was leaning on. "How often must you drink?"

Sylvain finds himself oddly fascinated by the sight of the young chief's fingers in the wolf's fur, imagining..."Ah..." he gasps, rather distracted, "every few nights..."

"Tonight?"

He shakes his head, although part of him is tempted not to. "N-no...I fed this evening. That was when they caught me. But..." he suddenly realizes that he will have to spend the day here, helpless.

"Yes?" Tala asked, fingers tightening in his wolf's ruff, pulling. The wolf closed its eyes, giving the slightest submissive whine.

Sylvain's eyes flicker closed for a moment before he can help himself, and part of himself whines like the wolf in his head. "Ah...nothing."

"You are afraid." Tala remarked, not mentioning the obvious arousal that all the wolves could smell. "What is wrong?"

"...are there any other caves nearby?"

"None empty. Why?" Tala's fingers continued to play.

Hypnotized by the fingers, Sylvain sighs--he won't be able to hide this for long, anyway. "...I will be helpless during the day," he says, giving Tala a slightly challenging look.

"Helpless?" Tala's fingers tightened, pupils dilating in his yellow irises.

The vampire shivers a little, nodding.

"How so?"

"I...die at dawn. I will be dead for the day."

"Interesting." the wolf growled softly.

Sylvain makes eye contact for the first time. "...will I make it til tomorrow night?" he asks, wryly.

"What do you need to trust us?" Tala asks, smiling harmlessly.

The vampire raises his eyebrows yet again, not fooled by the smile. "...I don't know. I don't...I don't really have a choice, at this point." He glances at the ceiling of the cave, as though he can see the horizon glowing through the stone.

"You will live through today." the wolf said solemnly.

The vampire nods, equally solemnly, and closes his eyes, curling up on the nest of furs. After a few moments, he bucks his hips as though orgasming wildly, then makes a strangled, gasping noise, before convulsing wildly a few times and laying still.

Tala laughs softly. "Move him to the back of the cave. We'll hunt until dusk."

****

Micropet

Kean got home from work early, swinging by his mailbox before going to the apartment. There was a notice stuck to the outside of it... a parcel notice. Finally! He drove over to the mail depot, practically running inside. He gave them his information and the woman behind the desk came back a few minutes later with a small brown parcel. He forced himself not to open it until he got home.

He peeled the tape off, afraid to cut it, and opened the lid.

There is a tiny, tiny boy, small enough to fit in Kean's hand, curled among some packing peanuts. Aside from his chest lightly rising and falling, he's still enough to be dead. He is naked, with soft, curly blond hair top and bottom, and there's a paper underneath him with a list of instructions.

With the utmost care, Kean lifted the tiny boy out of his box, nearly crying with joy. He set him down gently in the large habitat that he'd gotten him. He unfolded the list of instructions.

"Congratulations on your purchase of a new MicroPet! We know you'll be 100% satisfied with your new pet. Here are some tips to get you started. Your pet can eat everything you can--but make sure it's nice and small! Don't overfeed, or they may get fat. Always provide clean, fresh water. Make sure your pet has plenty of space to exersize, and an interesting environment so it doesn't get bored. Make sure your pet's habitat is always neat and clean. Please call our tollfree number if you have any questions or concerns: 1-888-555-6623, or visit our website: Micropets.com Our full line of products and accessories is available online 24/7.

Kean had read most of this online before (over and over as he waited for his parcel), but he read it again just to be sure. He knew that his new pet would be unconscious for awhile longer, since it was safer to ship them while drugged. He decided he should stop staring and go make them some food. He unwrapped a frozen pizza and started the oven.

The boy awakens in his new habitat, which is basically a dollhouse surrounded by a terrarium. He blinks, groggily, and sits up. He remembers being grabbed out of his cage, and then a jab, and now he's here...and he's alone. He rushes around, calling out for his cage-mates.

Kean hears him and nearly drops the pizza. He slides it into the oven and rushes over to the terarrium. "Hey." he smiles down at his new pet, not quite sure what to say now.

The boy's eyes widen as the giant comes into view, but he's used to being examined and handled, and he smiles back, a little woozily. He gives a little nervous wave, still looking around his new home.

"I'm Kean, I'm your owner." he offered the tiny boy his finger to touch. "You don't have a name yet, do you?"

The boy reaches up and grasps the fingertip in both hands, feeling the rough loops and whorls of his fingerprint. "Not yet," he says, shyly.

"I'll call you Ramsey." Kean smiled, completely overjoyed. "Are you hungry? Do you want anything?"

The boy, now Ramsey, shakes his head. "Still feeling a little sick...it's nice here." He looks around--his old cage had been a more traditional sort, with wood shavings.

"I've been trying to make it perfect, but I can add anything you want." he grins. "There's water in the bottle if you think that will help your sickness."

Ramsey nods and goes to the bathroom area of the habitat to find his water, aware that Kean can see him everywhere. He blushes a little, shy. He takes a drink from what is basically a hamster water bottle with a sports drink type nozzle for him to suck from.

Kean beams. He'd gotten Ramsey little clothes, but he's suddenly decided that watching the boy walk around nude is much more exciting. "What was your habitat like back with the breeder?"

Ramsey glances around at his surroundings. "Um, well...not like this..." The tiny boy smiles. "It was clean and nice and there were a few of us in every cage, but...it was a cage, not a little house like this."

"Oh, do you miss your cagemates?"

Ramsey nods, looking a little sad. "But you seem nice," he says.

"I'm glad." he grinned, almost shy. "I've taken a week off so I can spend more time with you, so you won't be lonely."

Ramsey nods, not really sure what his new owner means. "The people there were nice, too, but...they didn't have much time for each of us..." he says, not sure what to say, either.

"I'm going to be spending a whole week just focusing on you." he reached down, petting Ramsey's hair with one finger.

Ramsey smiles, stretching into the petting. Boldly, he hops onto his owner's hand and sits, looking up at him for approval.

Kean grins, lifting his pet up slowly, all the way to face level.

The miniature boy smiles shyly, blushing again, but feeling his little cock stir--they're bred and trained to be a little randy.

Kean's pupils dilate, and from that distance and size it's easy to tell. He flops down on his bed, putting Ramsey on his chest to move about.

Ramsey grins with delight--he's never gotten to do this before--and he busies himself climbing the folds and valleys of his owner's shirt.

Kean chuckles, the movement making Ramsey lose his balance. "Oh, sorry!" he picks Ramsey up, putting him on his pillow and stripping off his shirt. He lays back down, putting his head on the pillow next to Ramsey.

Ramsey clings to the fabric until he's moved, laughing as well. "That's ok." He puts himself back on Kean's hand after his owner is settled. "Can I go back? It should be easier now."

"Sure." Kean lifts his hand up as steadily as he can, putting it next to his chest so Ramsey can climb on.

Ramsey sets about exploring again, having a much easier time without the cloth. After he's marched across the chest and reached a nipple, he gets a mischievous look and gently grasps it in both hands.

Kean makes a little surprised sound. There's a large bulge growing in his jeans.

Ramsey watches the giant nipple grow hard and flush and he grins, rubbing the tender flesh more firmly.

Kean strokes a finger down Ramsey's naked back, biting his lip a little. His fingertips wander over Ramsey's sides and chest, then down to his groin.

Ramsey shivers, rubbing the tiny bumps of his spine against Kean's rough finger. When the finger reaches his cock, he sits down on the nipple, offering himself.

Kean gently spread Ramsey's legs, stroking his tiny cock, his own cock practically aching. He licked his fingertips, touching the wet fingertip to the little cock, balls and the opening between his cheeks that he could hardly see.

The boy blushes, but smiles a little flirtatiously, keeping his legs spread happily.

"Spread yourself for me." Kean asked eagerly.

Ramsey nods, rolling over so his chest is on the nipple and he's on all fours, spreading his cheeks.

Kean poked it gently with his smallest finger. "Have you been... fucked before?"

Ramsey blushes but nods. "My cagemates and I did...and the people, sometimes." He moans softly, arching into the gentle finger.

"You like it?" he asked, spreading the boy's cheeks so he can see better.

"...yes..." The tiny boy shivers, putting his hands down to brace himself better. "...please." Ramsey laughs, "but I don't know if that will fit."

"No... not yet anyway." he chuckled. "I'll get your toys later, first..." he shifted, unzipping his pants and taking out his cock.

Ramsey clings to the nipple while his owner moves, turning to see what's going on. His eyes widen in surprised arousal when he sees the cock. "...that definitely won't fit," he says, sounding a little awed.

"Nope!" he grinned, picking Ramsey up and putting him in the little nest of his pubic hair.

The boy gives a little 'eep!' as he's picked up, grabbing one of Kean's fingers. When he's put back down, he stumbles a little, trying to find his footing in the dense, wiry hair. Laughing a little, he wraps his arms around the cock, just able to reach.

Kean groans a little, trying not to move much.

Ramsey leans forward and gently nibbles on the cock, arms still wrapped around it.

Kean suddenly has an idea, picking Ramsey up and putting him on the tip of his cock. He makes sure the tiny boy has a good grip before lowering his hand to wrap around his cock, lifting his foreskin to envelop Ramsey.

Ramsey is startled, but is quickly delighted at being wrapped in the soft, stretchy skin. He puts his arms out, and one of his feet slips into Kean's urethra.

Kean groans happily, feeling Ramsey on the head of his cock was quite thrilling, but the urethral stimulation pushed him over the edge. He came, drenching little Ramsey with sticky white fluid.

Ramsey gives a rather girly shriek, jumping out of the foreskin onto Kean's stomach, wiping at himself. He looks up at his owner and abruptly starts laughing.

Kean giggled a little too, blushing a bit. "Sorry, I was so quick." he scooped Ramsey up and slipped the boy's legs into his mouth, gently sucking him clean.

"That's ok." Ramsey giggles as he's sucked, his face reddening as he comes in Kean's mouth as his little cock is sucked. He blushes, hoping the man won't notice.

Kean smiles, carefully scraping his teeth over Ramsey's hard little cock.

Ramsey squeaks, a little afraid that he's about to lose his cock.

Kean runs his tongue over it, sucking and licking. He can feel his teeth resting against Ramsey's tummy and the fact that he could bite the boy in half makes his cock redden a little.

Ramsey closes his eyes and bites his lip, trying to keep still, caught between terror and arousal.

Kean continues to lick and play with the tiny cock, giving him two fingers to hold onto so he feels safer.

Ramsey adjusts the fingers so that his arms are fully spread between them, his head hanging down between, his ass resting on Kean's lip. He relaxes a little, trusting his life to his owner.

Kean teases the little cock with his tongue then starts to probe between the boy's cheeks, stroking down Ramsey's back again.

The boy shivers again, leaning into the stroking finger. He gasps and bucks as the tongue finds his sensitive little hole.

Alban and Sitri

Alban's Master has left for his yearly private purification ceremony, leaving Alban with strict instructions of things to do and to NEVER EVER do while he's away. Naturally, it's been raining for three days straight, and Alban is very, very bored. He begins flipping through some of the books that he's been forbidden to even look at, gazing at pictures of demons. "‘Sitri...under the conjurer's request he changes into a very beautiful man’...huh, that's an odd request..." He laughs, and glances over the summoning ritual. Just for practice, he decides to try the ritual, and draws the necessary mystical diagrams, chants the required words, and stops short of the final step--spilling a drop of his blood. Until, of course, the cat, startled by the smell of herbs burning, claws Alban's hand...

With a puff of golden smoke, a leopard-faced creature appeared. Its eyes fixed on Alban and its lips drew back in what might have been a smile, or a snarl.

Alban screams and stumbles backwards, smudging one of the protective lines meant to hold the demon in as he does so.

The demon's grin widened and it stepped boldly over the lines Alban had drawn on the floor.

The apprentice's eyes widen and he steps back until he hits the wall. "...you...you can't do that! You're mine!" he says, almost whimpering.

"You broke the circle." the creature grew taller, towering over Alban by a good two feet. "You're mine, boy."

In a moment of shocked clarity, Alban starts flipping frantically through the book, looking for a way to return the demon, shooting horrified glances at the creature standing over him every few seconds.

Sitri reached down and grabbed his wrists, forcing them over his head and leaning into the boy, pressing him back against the table.

Alban screams for help, knowing that there's no one around for miles to hear him. Except the cat, who gives him an 'I told you so' look and jumps out the window. "Agh! I s-summoned you! You have to obey me!"

"You summoned me... with the help of a cat. And you broke your circle." Sitri chuckled, pulling his leopard face back to reveal a beautifully androgynous human face. "Did your master not teach you about demons?"

Alban shakes his head, mesmerized by the demon's beauty despite the danger. "N-no...we hadn't gotten that far yet..."

Sitri pressed into Alban harder, the line of his body working into the young man. Alban suddenly realized he was naked and the demon's free hand was sliding down his back to rest under his ass.

"Where did my clothes go?!" he asks, saying the first thing that comes into his head, realizing it doesn't make much sense.

"Didn't you read about me in that book of yours?" Sitri purred. "I'm not just any demon." he lifted Alban onto the table abruptly, spreading his legs and pulling the boy towards him. Suddenly Alban was very aware of the tall demon's swollen cock, nudging up against Alban's anus.

Alban doesn't quite understand what's happening, but part of him realizes he wants nothing to do with it, and he tries to push himself away across the table, staring in horrified fascination at the huge, swollen cock staring at him.

Sitri pulled the boy back again and the first few inches of his cock slid into Alban.

Alban screeches and claws the demon's chest before he goes limp, his upper body collapsing backwards onto the table, kicking feebly with his legs.

Sitri laughed, grabbing Alban's hips and forcing his way deeper, cock colliding with the boy's prostate forcefully.

Alban's eyes go wide again, for a rather different reason and he watches his cock harden of its own accord.

Sitri smiles down at the boy, his inhumanly large cock driving against Alban's nerves again and again, finally brushing deeper until he was sheathed in the boy and Alban thought he might burst.

Alban screams, nails digging into his palms with every motion of the demon's cock. "Please don't kill me!" he shrieks, tears running down his cheeks, his cock throbbing.

Sitri leaned down and bit the boy's chest, leaving a bloody bitemark around his nipple. He purred and growled with pleasure, finally finishing in Alban, his seed almost hot enough to burn.

Alban lays flat on the table, panting, biting his lip at the pain of the seed filling him, almost too exhausted to react to the bite.

Sitri bent down, taking the boy's cock in his mouth. He carefully wrapped his sharp teeth to protect the boy's cock as he sucked and licked at it.

Alban gasps, pushing himself up from the table to see what's going on, supporting himself on shaking arms. He closes his eyes, hips bucking rhythmically without conscious thought.

Sitri cupped the boy's ass as he sucked, allowing Alban to move however he pleased.

Alban tightens and loosens the muscles of his ass, enjoying the warm, almost hot rough hands on his soft skin, moaning with abandon.

The demon met Alban's eyes, delicately grazing his teeth up the boy's shaft.

The boy gasps, eyes locked on the demon's, his mouth gently open. "...why..." he murmurs.

Sitri sucked the head of Alban's cock, scratching down his ass and thigh.

"Ahhh...." Alban gasps, leaning forward to wrap his arms around Sitri's head, burying his face in the demon's hair.

He felt Sitri chuckle all through his body, the demon's fingers stroking the red marks he left.

Alban happens to clench his ass during his movement, and the feeling sends him over the edge. He frantically bucks at Sitri's mouth, not minding the sharp teeth.

Sitri catches Alban with a few teeth, but barely draws blood. He swallows the boy's cum, standing again to tower over the apprentice.

Alban looks up (and up) at the demon looming over him, his eyes wide with panic again. One hand strays to his lightly bleeding cock.

Sitri just smiles, then disappears in another puff of golden smoke. The bite over Alban's nipple starts to close over, leaving a strange golden scar.

Young and Old Shamans

Badger is humming to himself, stirring leaves into hot water for tea, when he hears a scuffling outside his shelter, and footsteps leaving in a hurry.

Little Snake shivers outside the large door. He's shaking, wrapped in a fur cape, his ankles bound with leather strips. He falls to his knees, trying to undo the knots.

Badger steps outside, frowning at the boy huddled by his door. "Hey! Boy! Don't you know this isn't a place to play? Go on--" he notices the binding. "...oh." He kneels to be less imposing, and cuts the strips with his knife. "Who did this to you?" he asks, more softly.

Snake froze, looking up at Badger with huge yellowish eyes. He squeaked with fear when Badger cut his bindings.

Badger chuckles. "It's alright, little one. I won't hurt you. Would you like some tea?"

Snake nodded, standing shyly. "I'm Snake," he said softly.

"It's nice to meet you, Snake. I'm Shaman." He thinks of inviting the boy in, but figures that might frighten him more. "Will you wait here while I get it?" Luckily, he had made soothing tea, because of the nightmare that had woken him. He's now almost glad of it.

Snake nodded, sitting again to work the remains of his bindings off. The big man was imposing, but seemed safe.

Badger is careful to move slowly and carefully and not startle the boy. He brings a container of tea and two cups. He gives one to Snake, and sips one himself, watching the boy. He's very curious, and his Badger-self wants to dig right into the problem, but he forces himself to be patient.

Snake watches as Badger putters about, shivering. He wraps his little hands around the cup and sips at the soothing drink. "Thank you, sir."

"Of course. Please, call me Shaman." He waits a little longer, then picks up the cut leather strips, running them through his large fingers. "...I understand if you're not ready, but...I'd like to know what this was about."

Snake lowers his head, shamefully, then shrugs off the cape, revealing his budding breasts and small penis.

Badger has seen enough mysterious things to keep his face neutral. He nods, then pulls off his moccasins. Each of his feet have six toes. He wiggles them, not saying anything.

Snake smiles a little, looking up at Shaman hopefully.

Badger smiles back. "My parents knew when I was born that I would be a Shaman. Would you transform, so I can see your animal form? Would you mind if I picked you up and made sure you're not hurt?" He doesn't want to make the boy uncomfortable by using the word 'examine'.

He shook his head, and suddenly in his place on the cape was a little green and black snake.

Badger very carefully and gently picks up the snake, stroking it with one finger, making sure it seems relaxed. He examines near the base of the tail. He's seen lots of snakes--all animals--alive and dead. Sure enough, this snake has the vent appearance of a female, and the claspers of a male. He puts the snake back on the cape. "Thank you." He figured that it would be less intrusive to look at him as a snake, and less obvious.

Snake changed back into a human, pulling the cape back over his shoulders and hiding his body. He wanted to ask questions of the giant man who was very nice to him, but he was far too nervous.

Badger nibbles his lip, not sure what to say. "I'm not going to ask you any questions right now, but if it's alright, I'd like to tell you a story, and you stop me if part of it is wrong, alright?" He's done this many times before, especially when helping younger members of the tribe.

Snake nodded, glad to have something simple and comforting like a story. He clambered into Badger's lap without prompting and rested against the big, warm chest to listen.

Badger is momentarily startled--he hasn't dealt with children very much, and they're usually very much in awe of him--but he smiles, and wraps an arm around the boy's thin chest, avoiding the small breasts. "Once, a mother and a father had a son. They were very happy, because he was their first child, and they loved him very much."

Snake nodded, not really sure where this story is going yet, but enjoying it anyway.

"When they took him to their Shaman when he was a few days old, the Shaman noticed that the child had both male and female lower parts." He pauses to watch Snake's reaction.

"Like me." he murmured.

Badger smiles. "Yes, just like you." He's pleased with himself, and continues. "The Shaman warned the parents that this was a special child, and that it might not live, but if it did, it would certainly become a Shaman itself. The Shaman also told the parents that they would have to decide if they wanted the child to be raised as a boy or a girl."

Snake nodded, seriously. "What did they choose?"

Badger is glad the boy can't see his expression, but he manages to only smile. "They decided that this would be their son, and they would raise him and take care of him, no matter what. So he grew older, and they weren't afraid that he would die from being different. But his parents didn't want everyone to know--they were afraid the others would hurt him or tease him." He's pleased by how seriously Snake is taking this.

Snake nodded, feeling worried for this fictional boy who's story is very much like his own.

"So they kept him covered, even when the other boys were naked, and he had to stay inside more than the other boys."

"They were worried about him."

"His parents were worried about him, you mean?"

"Yes." he nodded.

"Why were they worried about him, do you think?"

"He was different. They didn't want him to get hurt."

"Yes, that's a good reason to worry about someone you love. What do you think might happen next?" he asks, encouraged.

"My parents talked to the shaman a lot, but then he died so they didn't have anyone to help." Snake said wisely.

"That's a good idea. His parents talked to their Shaman, too, and the Shaman helped the family a lot before dying." He's not completely sure of the gender of the previous Shaman, having never met them. "But life still went on, until the boy started noticing changes. He started covering himself up even more, and his parents were worried." He wonders if the boy gets his bleeding, and decides to guess--if he's wrong, then he'll know. "He started to bleed between his legs, and he was very frightened."

Snake looked momentarily ashamed, but nodded.

"It was nothing to worry about, though, and it was perfectly natural," he adds quickly, feeling Snake's movement, then continues. "He grew hair like the other boys, and he hid the bleeding and didn't tell anyone...and he didn't die, so he wasn't quite so frightened, but he still didn't understand..." He's a little less sure from here, but he keeps going. "One day, his chest started to swell."

Snake looked up at Badger with big eyes, still nodding.

Badger softly strokes his hair. "At first he was very frightened by this, too, but he noticed that some of the girls his age were showing their chests off to each other." Something clicks in his head--maybe this is why the boy was brought here now?

The little child nodded again. "What happened then?"

"So he decided that he would show his chest, as well. The girls were very upset and ran away. The boy didn't know why. He went back to his parents and told them what had happened. They were very angry, and he didn't understand why."

Snake nodded. "I was never supposed to show anyone under my loincloth. But I'd been naked besides that before."

Badger wonders if Snake finally gets it, and gently pets the boy's hair again. "Were you just naked at home, or when you were outside, too?"

"Outside too. Most of the boys went naked, so I could be mostly naked too. There was never a problem until..." he peeked under his cape at his growing breasts.

"I understand," Badger says, kindly, wrapping the boy in his arms. "And then your parents brought you here?" he asks.

He nodded, suddenly realizing that Badger was just telling his story.

Badger smiles, gently turning the boy's face so they can see each other. "Well...you're safe here, now. No one will ever call you different again, or control how you dress."

Snake smiled up at the shaman, no longer afraid of this giant tattooed man. He wraps his arms around Badger's neck and hugs him.

Badger smiles down at his new little apprentice, at the same time wondering what on earth he's gotten into...

Jaguar Dreams

Butterfly wings hover over my face, my eyes, my mouth. I feel their delicate legs trailing over my flesh, waiting for me to move.

Wings spread, larger and larger, until all I can see are bright splashes and spots of colour, like looking at a jewel through water. The butterflies shift, restless, drawn to the massive god of their kind, wings, butterfly wings of unimaginable size, not seen, only felt, rip through my back, and I scream. The sound is lost in the wild beating of the countless smaller butterflies.

I begin to fly.

Back.

Back in time, back in place, back to where it began, hurled back on massive jewel-wings that have stolen me.

Steam rises in breath-stealing heat. It is early morning, and the sun has risen just enough to begin to burn the gods-given rain sent by the night. I remember, outside the dream, when I first came to this land. The other hated it, called it black, heathen, evil. They thought it would kill them (I suppose it did).

I had heard of a creature, a cat, like a leopard. But like nothing else, at the same time. The jaguar. It was worshiped as a god, I was told. I wanted to know why. I wanted to see a jaguar.

I didn't hate this place. See where it got me.

A jaguar, larger than any natural beast, and the cold colour of good jade, waits in a clearing. His fiery green eyes, set in a living stone face, stare upward. He sees me. Although I am high, high in the air, I can see him so clearly. Blood drips from his fangs. My blood. A horrible and intoxicating contrast to the green of his teeth and muzzle, the red, almost glowing in the pre-dawn light, pools and dribbles at his paws. The wings-that-are-not-mine tip, and we descend to the waiting god-cat. I don't know his name. Names are power, and I am powerless.

I clutch at the massive wings above me, shuddering at the velvet covered scales of the monster butterfly. I've never felt anything like it. I hope I never do again. I pull and tear, trying to make the relentless wings turn or halt. Anything but face the jaguar waiting below. Watching.

I may as well pull on my own arm. The wings that have sprouted from my back are not mine, but are as firmly attached as any part of my body.

We land. The jaguar ignores me, for the moment, watching the wings. After a moment, I again feel horrible pressure on my back. A moment of agony later, and the god-butterfly has pulled free, taking most of the skin of my back with it. The blood runs down my rump, down my legs, flows over my feet. I can hear it being called by the blood at the jaguar's paws, an almost-audible sound. They're both my blood, but the jaguar changed it. Whether it was mine to begin with, it's his now. The fresh blood from my back runs toward him, most unnaturally.

Small butterflies emerge from the trees, touching, caressing their god, checking it for injuries from my hands, or simply wanting to touch it, be one with it.

The gods begin to speak. It's like your language, the language of the gods, but more powerful. Each word is like a mouthful of the steam that still flows from each leaf, trailing skyward.

Even the jungle makes blood sacrifice, here.

Each word burns my mouth, nose, ears, eyes, like standing too close to a fire.

I close my eyes, cover my ears.

I must have lost consciousness in my dream. When I awake, the butterfly is gone. The jaguar and I are alone.