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"description": "[i]Originally Submitted to FurAffinity.net on Oct 31st, 2013 02:58 AM.[/i]\n\nThe changing of the seasons never fails to stir familiar feelings and reawaken memories that have fallen dormant over the year's course. That's especially true for one particular raven in autumn who takes great delight when the colors become warmer as the temperature becomes cooler. Memories of playing in piles of leaves, of hanging cutouts of skeletons and witches in windows, and of eating delicious pumpkin pie swim in his head all throughout October. But recent years have brought new memories and feelings that have given him an entirely different outlook on Halloween- one that causes his pants to grow tighter. \n\nBut one year, after coming home from shopping for a party later in the evening, the raven was somewhat disappointed that it seemed like there wasn't going to be a fun little \"Halloween adventure\" that year. It had become somewhat of a recent annual tradition, but as Halloween quickly approached without any luck, he spent an increasing amount of time thinking about past years' events. However, doing so often left him with a rather burning need which needed tending as soon as he had some time alone. Checking his watch, he had almost an hour to kill before heading out to the party, so he decided to ease some of that tension that had built up over the day.\n\nThe raven sat down in his chair, slipped his pants down around his scaly ankles, reached far between his black-feathered thighs, and poked his tailhole with a finger. The digit slipped in with ease, encouraging him to send another one in to join it. Having such a well-worked hole is something the black bird takes pride in. He prefers exceptionally well-hung partners, though he's more than happy to please males who aren't as well equipped- especially when he can take more than one at a time. It is actually for that reason that Halloween is his favorite holiday! Not only is he blessed by being a species commonly associated with it, but it's a time of year when all manner of beasts, monsters, and creatures of the night emerge to unleash their mischievous sides on a gleeful public. Fingering himself with greater earnest while caressing his uncut erection, the raven thinks back to the night he first followed one of those funny little ghost stories.\n\nTales of people losing control of themselves amidst a transformation are as old as time. In these tales, sometimes they become grotesque versions of themselves, sometimes they become something else entirely. Wolves are popular subjects for such folklore because of the feral nature they represent, and it was that very feral nature the raven sought when he explored the hills one mid-autumn night. It was a night when a full moon stole the sky with an uninterrupted gleam. Most of the townsfolk were rushing to buy candy and costumes, though some found the clustered darkness of the forest a better place to spend a night dedicated to fright. Most entered the woods intent on gathering around campfires and telling ghost stories- most likely about serial killers or flesh-eating monsters who conveniently struck the very spot they sat. And what a perfect backdrop it was for such an activity, surrounded by chirping crickets, hooting owls, and the far, lonely cry of wolves bellowing in the night. However, while most of those howls were calls for their kin, there was one which was for the raven alone. \n\nAtop the tallest hill, darkened before the moon's dim light, a silhouette of a prowling canid huffed after what looked like a painful transformation. At least, that's what it appeared to be to any other hiker that night. What they didn't see was the black bird beneath the bipedal wolf, whose experienced malecunt squished each time the rowdy half-breed's cock slammed through his anal ring. The raven counted on the animalistic lust that was unleashed when man became beast and his higher consciousness yielded to the primal urges within to give him an experience that would test even his own well-trained bird hole. Thankfully, in his new body, the moon-touched lupine was just a little rub here and a firm stroke there away from being totally overpowered by those primal urges and pouncing the eagerly-submitting bird. The werewolf's tail swayed in the cool night air as his rump bounded up and down over the raven's feathery ass, panting and snarling in ways more akin to a dog as his mind descended deeper and deeper into the wild mindset. \n\nThe raven takes particular enjoyment in knotted partners, for he can pleasure them in ways few people can. As soon as he felt the thickened mass at the base of the werewolf's cock slam against his butt, he began to time his anal contractions. As soon as he felt the half-beast thrust his hips downward, the raven loosened his asshole and pushed himself back, forcing his anus to swallow the entire knot in one squelching gulp! And before the werewolf could even realize what happened, the raven loosened himself up again and pulled himself right back off of it, keeping half of the remaining shaft buried in himself. For the raven, being well-tread isn't a curse by any means. It allows him to enjoy the entirety of his knotted friends' shafts for the full duration of their trysts instead of just for the finale.\n\n\"Give it ALL to me, you big, bad brute... I want it all... and I can take it!\"\n\nAnd so, tongue lolling from his black lips like a common mutt, the werewolf fucked the raven with his entire beasthood, knot and all. Though his thrusts were stuttered, taking an extra fifth of a second to force his knot in and tug it back out, the sensations drove the spawn of the moon absolutely wild! The stimulation in the stiffening mass at the bse of his cock was euphoic, like lightning struck inside it with every push and pull of his waist. It was all a prelude to the moment when the the hypersensitive canid bulb swelled its largest and and finally locked itself firmly within the raven's rectum, and together they bayed their praise to the moon in unison as the avian's belly filled with the savage creature's seed! Finally, the werewolf was right where the raven wanted him- totally lost in a cloud of untamed self-gratification.\n\nBut would this beast's sexual hunger turn into actual hunger? If he is more of an animal in mind, then the raven needed to provide the lupine some incentive not to sink anymore than his cock into his new toy. When he saw the werewolf lick his upper lips, the bird tugged his waist to pull on the fat knot and gave it a powerful clench.\n\n\"I think you're ready for round two, stud!\" said the raven with a tap on the beast's nose. So on and on they rutted throughout the night, the raven's ass tied and filled over and over again, providing the werewolf seconds, thirds, fourths, and fifths that each became sloppier and sloppier. In the end, the wolven beast didn't even have to wait for his knot to deflate before he could pull it out of the bird whose balls were thoroughly soaked in pearly white leakage. But once the moon slept and the werewolf couldn't muster the energy to fuck or prowl, the corvid quietly slipped away with a limp, tail leaking the entire way back. And on that hill, a bewildered man awoke amidst scattered black feathers and grass soaked in more sticky, drying fluids no human was ever capable of producing.\n\nShuddering and groaning while prodding his prostate with three fingers hooked inside of his rectum, the raven blew his load into the air, splattering pearly white cum on his wing and making a mess on his thighs and scrotum as well. He took a moment to relish in the dissipating delight before checking his watch- uh oh! He had to be at the party in twenty minutes! And he was just getting to reminiscing about the night at the lake... After using a finger to quickly wipe the semen off his plumage, he dipped his seed-soaked digits into his beak and thought \"Clean enough\" before he fastened his pants and ran out the door.\n\nThe raven received a surprising bit of fanfare upon his arrival. He was apparently the first of his kind there, judging by the cheers and all the people participating in a drinking game betting which species would show up next. Figuring it would be a fun way to start the night off, he wrote his own list and headed into the crowded kitchen to make a drink for himself. Intent on a rum and coke, he stopped when he spotted the beverages on a counter behind two of the species that had already been crossed off. A tall, handsome, vampire bat in a leather jacket fraternized with a suavely-dressed black cat, both with drinks already in hand. Just the way the bat leered at his new friend with one arm reaching behind the cat on the countertop showed this bat had something in mind. But the way the cat returned an enchanted gaze and curled his tail told he was rather charmed by the bat's approach. They were indeed a cute couple, but before he could undress them in his mind, the raven reminded himself they weren't already-nude wolfmen ready to fuck anything that moves.\n\n\"May I get through here?\" asked the raven amicably as he reached for the rum behind the pair.\n\n\"Sure thing, buddy,\" said the bat, momentarily moving away from his feline friend. After pouring some rum into his cup, the raven reached to replace the glass bottle and pick up the coke when the bat gestured to the bird's shirt. \"Had a little party before this one?\"\n\n\"Wuh?\" said the raven, looking down to see to what it was the bat was referring. There, he saw a long, white, dried stain dripping down the lower front of his shirt. Immediately, his body surged with tingling heat as he was hit by the realization the stain must have been there ever since he jacked off. \"Oh? Oh! Uh, y- no, no I...\" He quickly released the plastic bottle and began to scrub the stain with a fold of his shirt. \"It, um... toothpaste.\"\n\n\"Since when do birds need toothpaste?\" asked the cat with an astute smirk.\n\n\"I mean beak polish!\" said the raven, scrubbing even harder as he knew the lack of a sheen on his beak would give away his little white lie. As soon as he started to question whether it would even be worth it to finish making his drink and just walk away with a glass of rum, the raven felt the cup in his hand become heavier. He looked up to see it was caused by the bat, bottle of coke in paw and pouring it into the raven's cup.\n\n\"How about you hang out with us for a while?\" asked the bat, topping the bird's drink off.\n\n\"Yeah, stick around! You seem like just the kind of guy this party needs,\" said the cat.\n\nThe raven noticed the pair shooting him friendly smiles. The embarrassment in him turned into relief, relief into curiosity, and curiosity into excitement at the prospect of what this sexy duo was implying.\n\nMaybe this year will have a little Halloween adventure after all!",
"description_bbcode_parsed": "Originally Submitted to FurAffinity.net on Oct 31st, 2013 02:58 AM.
The changing of the seasons never fails to stir familiar feelings and reawaken memories that have fallen dormant over the year's course. That's especially true for one particular raven in autumn who takes great delight when the colors become warmer as the temperature becomes cooler. Memories of playing in piles of leaves, of hanging cutouts of skeletons and witches in windows, and of eating delicious pumpkin pie swim in his head all throughout October. But recent years have brought new memories and feelings that have given him an entirely different outlook on Halloween- one that causes his pants to grow tighter.
But one year, after coming home from shopping for a party later in the evening, the raven was somewhat disappointed that it seemed like there wasn't going to be a fun little "Halloween adventure" that year. It had become somewhat of a recent annual tradition, but as Halloween quickly approached without any luck, he spent an increasing amount of time thinking about past years' events. However, doing so often left him with a rather burning need which needed tending as soon as he had some time alone. Checking his watch, he had almost an hour to kill before heading out to the party, so he decided to ease some of that tension that had built up over the day.
The raven sat down in his chair, slipped his pants down around his scaly ankles, reached far between his black-feathered thighs, and poked his tailhole with a finger. The digit slipped in with ease, encouraging him to send another one in to join it. Having such a well-worked hole is something the black bird takes pride in. He prefers exceptionally well-hung partners, though he's more than happy to please males who aren't as well equipped- especially when he can take more than one at a time. It is actually for that reason that Halloween is his favorite holiday! Not only is he blessed by being a species commonly associated with it, but it's a time of year when all manner of beasts, monsters, and creatures of the night emerge to unleash their mischievous sides on a gleeful public. Fingering himself with greater earnest while caressing his uncut erection, the raven thinks back to the night he first followed one of those funny little ghost stories.
Tales of people losing control of themselves amidst a transformation are as old as time. In these tales, sometimes they become grotesque versions of themselves, sometimes they become something else entirely. Wolves are popular subjects for such folklore because of the feral nature they represent, and it was that very feral nature the raven sought when he explored the hills one mid-autumn night. It was a night when a full moon stole the sky with an uninterrupted gleam. Most of the townsfolk were rushing to buy candy and costumes, though some found the clustered darkness of the forest a better place to spend a night dedicated to fright. Most entered the woods intent on gathering around campfires and telling ghost stories- most likely about serial killers or flesh-eating monsters who conveniently struck the very spot they sat. And what a perfect backdrop it was for such an activity, surrounded by chirping crickets, hooting owls, and the far, lonely cry of wolves bellowing in the night. However, while most of those howls were calls for their kin, there was one which was for the raven alone.
Atop the tallest hill, darkened before the moon's dim light, a silhouette of a prowling canid huffed after what looked like a painful transformation. At least, that's what it appeared to be to any other hiker that night. What they didn't see was the black bird beneath the bipedal wolf, whose experienced malecunt squished each time the rowdy half-breed's cock slammed through his anal ring. The raven counted on the animalistic lust that was unleashed when man became beast and his higher consciousness yielded to the primal urges within to give him an experience that would test even his own well-trained bird hole. Thankfully, in his new body, the moon-touched lupine was just a little rub here and a firm stroke there away from being totally overpowered by those primal urges and pouncing the eagerly-submitting bird. The werewolf's tail swayed in the cool night air as his rump bounded up and down over the raven's feathery ass, panting and snarling in ways more akin to a dog as his mind descended deeper and deeper into the wild mindset.
The raven takes particular enjoyment in knotted partners, for he can pleasure them in ways few people can. As soon as he felt the thickened mass at the base of the werewolf's cock slam against his butt, he began to time his anal contractions. As soon as he felt the half-beast thrust his hips downward, the raven loosened his asshole and pushed himself back, forcing his anus to swallow the entire knot in one squelching gulp! And before the werewolf could even realize what happened, the raven loosened himself up again and pulled himself right back off of it, keeping half of the remaining shaft buried in himself. For the raven, being well-tread isn't a curse by any means. It allows him to enjoy the entirety of his knotted friends' shafts for the full duration of their trysts instead of just for the finale.
"Give it ALL to me, you big, bad brute... I want it all... and I can take it!"
And so, tongue lolling from his black lips like a common mutt, the werewolf fucked the raven with his entire beasthood, knot and all. Though his thrusts were stuttered, taking an extra fifth of a second to force his knot in and tug it back out, the sensations drove the spawn of the moon absolutely wild! The stimulation in the stiffening mass at the bse of his cock was euphoic, like lightning struck inside it with every push and pull of his waist. It was all a prelude to the moment when the the hypersensitive canid bulb swelled its largest and and finally locked itself firmly within the raven's rectum, and together they bayed their praise to the moon in unison as the avian's belly filled with the savage creature's seed! Finally, the werewolf was right where the raven wanted him- totally lost in a cloud of untamed self-gratification.
But would this beast's sexual hunger turn into actual hunger? If he is more of an animal in mind, then the raven needed to provide the lupine some incentive not to sink anymore than his cock into his new toy. When he saw the werewolf lick his upper lips, the bird tugged his waist to pull on the fat knot and gave it a powerful clench.
"I think you're ready for round two, stud!" said the raven with a tap on the beast's nose. So on and on they rutted throughout the night, the raven's ass tied and filled over and over again, providing the werewolf seconds, thirds, fourths, and fifths that each became sloppier and sloppier. In the end, the wolven beast didn't even have to wait for his knot to deflate before he could pull it out of the bird whose balls were thoroughly soaked in pearly white leakage. But once the moon slept and the werewolf couldn't muster the energy to fuck or prowl, the corvid quietly slipped away with a limp, tail leaking the entire way back. And on that hill, a bewildered man awoke amidst scattered black feathers and grass soaked in more sticky, drying fluids no human was ever capable of producing.
Shuddering and groaning while prodding his prostate with three fingers hooked inside of his rectum, the raven blew his load into the air, splattering pearly white cum on his wing and making a mess on his thighs and scrotum as well. He took a moment to relish in the dissipating delight before checking his watch- uh oh! He had to be at the party in twenty minutes! And he was just getting to reminiscing about the night at the lake... After using a finger to quickly wipe the semen off his plumage, he dipped his seed-soaked digits into his beak and thought "Clean enough" before he fastened his pants and ran out the door.
The raven received a surprising bit of fanfare upon his arrival. He was apparently the first of his kind there, judging by the cheers and all the people participating in a drinking game betting which species would show up next. Figuring it would be a fun way to start the night off, he wrote his own list and headed into the crowded kitchen to make a drink for himself. Intent on a rum and coke, he stopped when he spotted the beverages on a counter behind two of the species that had already been crossed off. A tall, handsome, vampire bat in a leather jacket fraternized with a suavely-dressed black cat, both with drinks already in hand. Just the way the bat leered at his new friend with one arm reaching behind the cat on the countertop showed this bat had something in mind. But the way the cat returned an enchanted gaze and curled his tail told he was rather charmed by the bat's approach. They were indeed a cute couple, but before he could undress them in his mind, the raven reminded himself they weren't already-nude wolfmen ready to fuck anything that moves.
"May I get through here?" asked the raven amicably as he reached for the rum behind the pair.
"Sure thing, buddy," said the bat, momentarily moving away from his feline friend. After pouring some rum into his cup, the raven reached to replace the glass bottle and pick up the coke when the bat gestured to the bird's shirt. "Had a little party before this one?"
"Wuh?" said the raven, looking down to see to what it was the bat was referring. There, he saw a long, white, dried stain dripping down the lower front of his shirt. Immediately, his body surged with tingling heat as he was hit by the realization the stain must have been there ever since he jacked off. "Oh? Oh! Uh, y- no, no I..." He quickly released the plastic bottle and began to scrub the stain with a fold of his shirt. "It, um... toothpaste."
"Since when do birds need toothpaste?" asked the cat with an astute smirk.
"I mean beak polish!" said the raven, scrubbing even harder as he knew the lack of a sheen on his beak would give away his little white lie. As soon as he started to question whether it would even be worth it to finish making his drink and just walk away with a glass of rum, the raven felt the cup in his hand become heavier. He looked up to see it was caused by the bat, bottle of coke in paw and pouring it into the raven's cup.
"How about you hang out with us for a while?" asked the bat, topping the bird's drink off.
"Yeah, stick around! You seem like just the kind of guy this party needs," said the cat.
The raven noticed the pair shooting him friendly smiles. The embarrassment in him turned into relief, relief into curiosity, and curiosity into excitement at the prospect of what this sexy duo was implying.
Maybe this year will have a little Halloween adventure after all!",
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