Finally, late one morning, as we were walking along with a kit apiece on our shoulders, we spotted a little grove of trees and a line of lush vegetation that promised a fair-sized stream. We were tired and hungry and thirsty and not doing well from several days in the open, and the grove was just what we needed. The wind had died but just about the time we saw the grove it shifted from north northwest to the north, and the scent we’d been catching on and off became overwhelming.

"It’s not that clump of trees, is it?" I asked, incredulous. It smelled like some kind of animal.

"No. You’ll see. Good thing the wind is from this direction. They’d spook if they got a whiff of us. Being stupid."

Well, we made the cover of the trees, put Tim and Mickey down next to the stream, and leaving the short-whiskers happily splashing around in the water, Lop and I stalked the unseen quarry.

When we peeked around a bush at the north edge of the grove, I could hardly believe it. There was a herd of twenty-some of the most enormous animals I’d ever seen. They were like horses, except they must have weighed 3000 kilograms apiece. For all their hugeness they were pretty, although their heads seemed too small compared to the rest of them. Their color was like monuxes, only a darker, bluer grey, and with a silvery belly and chest. And long black feathers on their huge hooves, matching the color of their manes and tails. Their manes were long, and their tails reached almost to the ground.

Their haunches were unbelievably male. Both the mares and the stallions I mean. Great, curved, heavy-muscled rumps. I suddenly remembered Lop’s weird comment about how sexy a monux butt was. I’d never thought of it that way at all. But I caught myself thinking the same thing about these beasts, and I no sooner did I think that, it hit me that I really was a pervert. Like Lop. Without meaning to I stole a glance at Lop’s butt. Sweet butt. Dear to me whether it was the driving force behind that wlko’s black or sheathing mine.

As they switched their tails around, I could see huge assholes of black, puckered skin that looked like a wlko could stick his whole head in under the beast’s tail. If he had a mind to.

"What–on–earth–?"

"Bandul", murmured Lop.

Oh! Well! I’d heard about bandul all my life. I thought they were sort of fairy-stories, the things you tell to kits to scare them. The truth was more remarkable than anything I’d imagined.

"Stupidest animals on the planet", Lop whispered in my ear. "When you’re that big you don’t have to be smart, I guess. Even so, they’re as skittish as tellebris. If we walked out of here into plain view, the whole herd of shit-for-brains would take off. And then run flat-out for two days. Oh–look, stud–now that’s something to dream about–"

A titanic animal, a stallion (so obviously!), had been sniffing around the obligingly raised tail of a female. I blinked so I missed the erection. I’d noted his sheath, of course, in front of the biggest balls I’d ever seen on a creature; then, suddenly, there was a huge, shiny shaft jutting out of the sheath. I swear it was as long as Lop was tall. And thick in proportion. And it was an unreal color: a bright, gleaming, blood red. We could feel the ground shake as the stallion and his cock gallumphed around getting into position to cover the mare. Up he went. In he went.

Resting his front legs on the mare’s back and grabbing the back of her neck in his teeth, he took a couple of tentative steps on hind legs. Both creatures were almost staggering. After maybe forty seconds, he whinnied loudly, and then, like a monux, only on a colossal scale, shivered and shook. Then he uncoupled and lowered himself to all fours again. His prick was now a sort of deep pink, like a tongue. It hung down almost to the ground and then slowly withdrew into the sheath, stopping when there was a good fifteen centimeters of it still showing. And there it hung. Like a trophy as he grazed.

The whole process was over almost before it started. And it was eye-popping.

"Whew!" I whispered. "Now that’s a cock!"

"Oh, yeah", he said, in my ear. "It’d kill you. I mean that. Hey hey!–Oh, Perry! This is something interesting."

An imposing male, not our stallion, was sniffing around the cunt that had just been briefly filled by the biggest prick I’d ever seen. The mare was close enough that I could see him open his mouth and stick a pink tongue right into her cunt. A tongue that I swear looked like it was the size of Lop’s thigh. Fast as it happened, this time I saw it: a huge, bright red shaft shooting out of his penis-sheath.

The first Stallion, his equipment all packed away now, came thudding over, whinnying. A silly, girlish sound; hard to believe such a thing could come out of that pile of muscle. Even apart from my perverted interest in his rump and cock. Well, the new boy lost his gigantic hard-on immediately, but stood his ground. They both pawed and snorted and thundered around. Starting and stopping. Then the new boy charged the stallion.

The fight between the two was horrifying. As the mountainous creatures battled back and forth, slamming their necks into one another and rearing and biting and kicking, I made quick survey of how to retreat in a hurry, if the fight came crashing in the direction of our bushes. Those boys would crush us to paste without even noticing.

The stallion lost his footing and fell with a thud that shook the ground. There was patter of ihsskenu nuts all around us, knocked out of the trees by the jar.

But I wasn’t paying attention to that. A second after he fell, the stallion let out a sound unlike anything we’d heard so far. It was horrible, a combination of a shriek and a bellow. He was thrashing around. He seemed to be struggling. It looked like he couldn’t get up. I couldn’t imagine there was such a thing as an animal that couldn’t get to its feet if it was knocked down. I glanced inquiringly at Lop.

"I think he broke his leg", he said.

"Why don’t they help him?" I asked.

Lop laughed. If there hadn’t been so much commotion among the bandul, they surely would have heard us.

"Help? Perry, these are bandul. Their brains are about the size of an ihsskenu nut. I mean, monuxes are geniuses compared to these brutes. And I mean brutes. So far from helping–"

As he was saying the word, the young stallion, whinnying and snorting and prancing, tail high, came over to the fallen giant and turned and kicked him in the stomach. Twice. Three times. Other male bandul of various ages and sizes joined in. The mares were grazing quietly nearby, paying no attention at all, as far as I could tell. None of their business.

It took a while. I suppose they could have killed him pretty quickly if they’d gone about it right. But as Lop said, these were really very stupid animals. They were just kicking at random. Unless the point actually was to hurt him.

Finally, after a kick to the head, he lay still, and the male that had defeated him trumpeted and brayed and sort of charged the other males. They pulled back.

Then he clopped over to where the females were. He was pretty. Sort of prancing. Tail high. Amazing rump.

"Watch this", hissed Lop.

It was indeed something to watch. He ignored the female he’d been tonguing earlier. He sniffed the cunt of another, and became instantly erect, the bright red cock under his belly was a truly obscene monster. It was embarrassing just seeing something like that. He sniffed under this mare’s tail too, at length. And licked it. She’d raised her tail. A receptive female, I guessed. But to my surprise he ignored her, too, and instead, still grossly erect, danced up to a mare who was even more barrel-shaped than her massive sisters.

She moved away from him, tail down, but he caught her, and quickly got her neck in his teeth. She was trying to get away, twisting and turning, which didn’t make his job any easier. But as they waddled along and staggered this way and that, he got behind her and somehow maneuvered his bright red prick into her cunt. It wasn’t like the fucking we’d seen earlier. He really seemed to be working at it. The muscles in his thighs and sides were really standing out. The mare was whinnying and bucking and foaming. It didn’t look to me like she was having fun. And it took him a whole lot longer than the stallion. A couple of minutes. Maybe longer. I guessed he was an amateur. Or really getting into it. (Now that he was getting into it, you might say.)

Finally, with a snort and a whinny he let her go. His prick was still blood-red. Quite the stud!

"Did he come?"

"I don’t think so", whispered Lop. "He wasn’t fucking her. She’s pregnant. Or rather, she was. He was ramming the baby out of her belly. With his cock. She’ll abort in a little while. If she doesn’t die herself."

"Fucked to death?" I asked, weakly.

"Do you doubt it?" growled Lop.

I thought I was going to be sick to my stomach. The business with the stallion had been upsetting enough, but if Lop was right–

He still had the blood-red shaft under his belly. The thing looked to be two meters long. He approached another female, also rather stout looking. When he tried to do the same thing to her, she whinnied and struggled, like the mare he’d just fucked. Well, rammed. And not at all like the coupling of the defeated stallion. This time it took him longer than the first one. Mainly because the mare was being so rambunctious. He’s no sooner filled her cunt than she shrieked and got away from him and he galloped after her. We could feel their hoofbeats. He caught her and they danced around, again, him trying to get in her. When he succeeded, she came out with a whinny that was a sort of scream.

"She pregnant too?" I asked.

Lop glanced at me sideways. "Was", he said.

Before an hour passed, he’d treated two more mares the same way.

I was puzzled. "Lop, those mares tried everything but he got them all, in the end. Why do they bother raising all that fuss?"

Lop shrugged. "Who knows", he murmured. "They’re probably too dumb to figure anything out. And it’s probably pretty painful. But like you say, the fuss is pointless. The only way to avoid their fate is to run away, and they never do. C’mon, puss."

We slipped back into the stand of trees and went to the opposite edge of it, gathering up the kits as we went as far away from the stream as we could manage and still be in cover. Lop said we shouldn’t make fire. And he said something about hoping that the wind didn’t shift during the night. "They catch a whiff of us, and they’re off", he said, "and there goes our treat".

"What treat?"

"You’ll find out", he said.

"We really can’t make fire?"

"No. The point is not to spook them. Baby bandul is worth a little temporary inconvenience. Trust me. Besides"–he looked at me with a smoky glow in his eye. "Besides, stud, we’ll be OK. There’s more than one way to make a fire. All that massive masculinity has put ideas into my head."

I was disapppointed. It had been a couple of hungry days. The kits were hungry, too, but more than that, tired from the day’s hike, short as it was. They were curled up, nestled against Lop’s thigh but more involved with each other than with him. With his long neck bent down like a nursing wlkwy, he gently separated himself. They didn’t move. He came over to where I was sitting, a meter away or so, and dropped to his knees. As he bent down to put his face between my thighs he glanced up at me and said, simply, "And now, O my stallion, we’re going to fuck us a fuck".

He was purring. I guess I was too shocked to purr, but the feel of his tongue on my nuts started my hkshihh, I could tell. And the ooze turned to a flow when he started working the tits next to my sheath. Amazing anything so small could make you feel so beautiful. His purring became louder. He was tasting my hkshihh. And now I could scent his.

Somewhat to my surprise, when he laid his body full length on mine he didn’t say anything. I could feel hard between our bellies. And it wasn’t all mine. He slid around in our hkshihh-soaked fur for a little bit, purring and licking my neck and cheeks. It was very beautiful, and I wasn’t at all surprised to scent his SkhtuS.

But I was a little distracted. Beauty, and even bliss, was filling my body. The feel of his fur. The feel of his hard body, the tingle of the SkhtuS rising in my black. I imagined I could feel my hand gripping already!

There were these voices in my head.

One of them was telling me how eager, even desperate, I was to have his wood inside me, as painfully big as it was. How desperately I craved the feel of his black bone wrestling with the grip of my third hand. How deeply moving it was when I could feel his nuts empty. How much bliss came from a bellyful of his SkhtuS. It was like floating for ever on a cloud.

Then there was this other voice. It was telling me it was obscene and lewd to go off somewhere and have sex with a strange man. Repeatedly. As though we were co-mates, not coupling at a wlkatar. That was different. Wild, careless, oblivious. This was the exact opposite. Deliberate. This was a man pretending to be my wife. This was a man who, I knew, to my shame, was fucking me. Not linking. Fucking. And thought–insisted–that I was fucking him! Every little thing about this was depraved.

And the most shocking thing of all was that I wanted his cock so badly. I wanted his whole body so badly. I remembered when we were first married, Drushka and I, sometimes I’d wake up in the middle of the night with cunt on my mind so urgently that I’d fuck one of the wives then and there. Either one. One that wasn’t pregnant, that is. And I wasn’t the only one doing it, either. That was normal. And they never objected. They teased, maybe. But there was no question about it, they loved black. For black’s sake, I mean. That was normal. I swear one or the other girl came to me and started my black at least as often as I took a black eel up to them. But I never linked Drushka that way. In the middle of the night, I mean. Well, all right, maybe in the first six months after we were opened and it was all so new and we were so young and, like young wlkon everywhere, just couldn’t stop.

This–this was not normal. I should not be embracing a complete stranger, and a rupellid if you can believe it!–and looking forward–no, hoping, and not just hoping either–hoping desperately that he’ll fuck–fuck–me. That was the word. It still shocked me even to think it. It was so depraved. So totally depraved.

Face facts, Perry, this other voice was nagging. Face facts. You’re a nsles-SkhtuS. You’re a nsles-SkhtuS. A come-drinking pervert. And a zizi-nk hS nsles-SkhtuS if there ever was one. The only thing that cock of yours is good for is keeping your rupellid "husband" black. And what for? Why, keeping him black so he can drill his own perverted jollies out of your–oh, yes, and fill you with bliss. Through your rotting, pathetic tail-hole.

"Why are you raising your legs, cat? You’re going to fuck me".

He was hugging me so tight I couldn’t answer. He spun us over. It must have hurt him in six places to do that, but he made no sound. And I guess I was grateful; the itch at the tip of my black was something else.

I was on top of him. Squirming around a little like he’d been doing. Then I decided I wanted to lick him between the legs. He was sopping with hkshihh, of course. It wasn’t something I was used to. But I loved it. On all fours, kneeling between his legs, I could feel my own hkshihh running down the insides of my thighs. As I stroked his hard sheath with my tongue he was moaning and shaking. The hkshihh was flowing out of his sheath and running off his black so fast I could hardly keep up with it with my tongue.

The little voice in my head was still saying, "If it kills me, I want this wonderful thing in my ass".

The voice that was telling me that nothing but a disgusting pervert would even think of licking hkshihh off a cock-sheath had shut up. For the moment.

It piped up again, though, when Lop said, "Take me in your mouth, stud." He was purring so loudly I hardly understood him.

"What?"

"Take my cock in your mouth, stud. And watch your tongue. It’s rough. Use your lips."

I hesitated. Nothing like that had ever even occurred to me. Then again, it there was no obvious reason why you couldn’t do such a thing. Lop had done it to me. It was revolting, that’s all. Revolting and perverted. Really perverted. Calling ordinary linking "fucking" was maybe just a whim of Lop’s. Licking me between the legs to start my hkshihh was definitely outrageous. I didn’t know what to call it when he took my black in the wrong end of him. But this–this request or whatever it was was outrageous. No, it was inconceivable.

"Come on, kitten", Lop purred. He was holding my mane with both hands and was stroking my ears with his thumbs. "Try it. Go ahead. You’ll like it."

I still hesitated. I was practically dizzy with the rich smell of Lop’s hkshihh and the tingling of the SkhtuS rising through my cock was making me a little crazy.

That man had me so hot that the only thing I remember thinking was wondering if it was possible to get all of it in my mouth.

Well, I’ll never forget it. Lop’s cock felt unlike anything I ever–hard black is completely unique. Nothing tastes like it. Nothing feels like it. Not even remotely. So smooth and buttery.

I guess I was so determined to get the whole thing in that I choked a little. Lop moaned a long, purr-rattled moan, and I could feel his grip tighten on my mane. I got even more of him into me, and didn’t choke this time.

The voice in my head was screaming at me now, screaming that only the most depraved sexual deviate in the world would even think of doing anything so vile. Never mind enjoy the experience!

My voice didn’t know anything.

Lop pulled me off his black purring "Fuck me" over and over. I hardly needed the instructions. By the time I got into him, his tail was wrapped around my thigh so snugly that I hardly had room to fuck. Damn it, not fuck, he was a male. You can’t fuck a male, not for all the shrimp in Granite Lake. It’s linking. I was driving his seed, that’s all. That’s all.

Well, whatever it was, as little as I could move, he was liking it. He was licking me ferociously and holding me so tight in those thick arms of his that I could hardly breathe. It was like he was fucking, I mean linking, me, not the other way around.

Maybe it was fucking. Since I could hardly move I couldn’t drill him. As I squirmed and struggled I was feeling more and more beautiful with every move. My nostrils were full of the scent of his hkshihh, which made me feel even more beautiful. I could feel his hard black under my belly. The purring, his heavy panting, the strong stroke of his tongue on my face and neck.

The beautiful became incredibly beautiful when I started to feel his third hand. And you know what? I admit it. I was thinking about how to link and hold his black in my mouth. At the same time. That, I thought, would be something really wonderful. I knew it was possible. He’d done it to me. Meantime, his grip tightened, and with every groaning pull my black was worming wonderful low moans out of the big brute. I felt so wonderful in so many ways–my black was completely in charge of this big thug. He was helpless. He was totally in my control. He was my–

My fantasy blew away when he relaxed his hold on my shoulders and moaned "Eat me" into my ear. I was scandalized. The idea of doing that had been kind of exciting when I’d thought of it by myself. When Lop laid bare my perverted inner thoughts, however, actually put it in words, it sounded grossly perverted. But I was so hot, and his hand on my black was so tight, and my balls were so swollen with SkhtuS, that the whole horrible idea was actually–