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down a dark road", "count": "6", "submission_left_submission_id": "3461782", "submission_left_file_name": "5277111_GuiltyDen_pt5_the_lab-rat.rtf", "submission_left_thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/5277/5277111_GuiltyDen_pt5_the_lab-rat.jpg", "submission_left_thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/5277/5277111_GuiltyDen_pt5_the_lab-rat.jpg", "submission_left_thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/5277/5277111_GuiltyDen_pt5_the_lab-rat.jpg", "submission_left_thumb_huge_x": "300", "submission_left_thumb_huge_y": "300", "submission_left_thumb_large_x": "200", "submission_left_thumb_large_y": "200", "submission_left_thumb_medium_x": "120", "submission_left_thumb_medium_y": "120" } ], "description": "The final part of the saga of Julia Salith, who has become something both greater, and lesser. But every story needs an ending, and by technicality, I think we can call this a happy one. I think someone has some issues they need to work out...\n\nThanks again to the wonderful commissioner, Vanrixie, do look up their content on [url=https://www.furaffinity.net/user/vanrixie]FA[/url] and [url=https://inkbunny.net/Vanrixie]IB[/url].\n\nAnd with that I hope you've enjoyed my second ever commission. I've made a post about my intentions, though I've had a very unpreductive last week, but if you want to steal me away from my plans, I am up for more work. Just maybe something less, heavy, next time.", "description_bbcode_parsed": "The final part of the saga of Julia Salith, who has become something both greater, and lesser. But every story needs an ending, and by technicality, I think we can call this a happy one. I think someone has some issues they need to work out...

Thanks again to the wonderful commissioner, Vanrixie, do look up their content on FA and IB.

And with that I hope you've enjoyed my second ever commission. I've made a post about my intentions, though I've had a very unpreductive last week, but if you want to steal me away from my plans, I am up for more work. Just maybe something less, heavy, next time.", "writing": "Deep in the hollow the broodmare birthed, compacted walls of refuse and soil surrounding the narrow den that barely served to fit her enormity. The cave of trash pulsed with warmth, and soft light, for the creature at its heart, like the ant queen in her nest, lay fat and indolent, her womb radiant with life. Skin stretched thinner than paper, yet harder than iron, the corpulent girth glowed from within, the hundreds, thousands of lives inside, visible as dark anti-stars in luminous space.\n\nVeins like tree roots buttressed and girded the precious firmament, while two vast eyes in the form of monstrous breasts loomed and stared above, weeping constant white tears as if some spark within the mother of all bemoaned her fate. Or perhaps it was merely from the pleasure, as a trio of beasts worked ceaselessly at the gushing river that was her cunt, her corridor of copulation in a constant state of labour and sex.\n\nSagging like twin guardians, twisting, tumorous, testes squirmed in their flesh prison, sending a persistent ooze of virility from the den, pollinating plant and animal alike in a line of life that stretched throughout the landfill, leaving a path of green and vibrant growth among the plastics and shrapnel.\n\nBehind all that, and least of it, the face of the mare was beatific, peaceful, primal. Her hair was a vast halo that meshed and entwined about the virulent growth of flowers. Her bounteous lips quirked permanently in an eternal expression of pleasure. Heavily lidded, two emerald eyes glowed in the reflected brilliance of her womb, seeming to see all, yet aware of nothing.\n\nHowling, a dog was forced to withdraw their dripping cock, as a new tide flooded the river, a quake that sent six more little ones spilling forth in a headlong gush. The rim of the broodmare's womanhood barely had to part to allow their passage. On instinct, following the wordless incantations of their mother, the puppies, kittens, and hatchlings, blindly found the flows of milk, and began to lap.\n\nBut then the root canopy of the den was disturbed, the protective beasts growled a challenge, as an interloper dared invade the sanctity of the mother's home. It was slender and tall, the pointed face dispassionate, a chill preceding it that caused the hackles of every animal to rise. They recognised a challenger, a creature confident in its right to respect.\n\nThat aura of authority, and the faint scent of the familiar about them, caused the guardians to falter, sniffing as the loping figure strode forth. Like the mother, it muttered odd syllables beneath its breath, but with clear intent, and the words caused the simple beasts to tuck their tails and flee, leaving only the stranger, and the goddess of the grotto.\n\nThey judged the mother of the scrapyard with their golden eyes, waiting, as if expecting... something, from the statue of flesh. But the mother did not acknowledge them, she only noticed that her needs were not being met, that cubs left her womb with nothing to replace them, so she sang her song louder, seeking to entice a lover. The newcomer's long, narrow muzzle, looked disappointed for a moment, before firming into chiselled wroth, fangs bared. She steadied her grip on a briefcase at her side, then circled the corpulent mare, her muttering constant as she used her free hand to score a deep line in the soil with a manicured claw.\n\n\"Drawing the first circle, no reaction from target. The cardinals are Gow, Hesta, Salamander, Toka,\" she spoke clearly, laying small discs at select points, each etched with markings gathered from across the world.\n\nAn earpiece clipped to her right lobe echoed her words. \"Gow, Hesta, Salamander, Toka, confirmed. Advise you proceed to self-manifestation, full contact will be needed.\"\n\nThere was a pause, but only briefly as the lanky woman again looked over the reclining giant. Then she set down the case, and began to unbutton her perfectly tailored suit. Orange and white fur spilled from about her neck in a regal mane, narrow shoulders were tightly cast in fit, wiry muscle. She removed and folded her crisp, white, shirt, letting small breasts stand proudly on a body bereft of fat, a hint of smaller nipples visible across her abdomen, parting the well-conditioned coat. The jacket and shirt vanished inside the case, and again there was a brief pause before she grabbed the hem of her trousers.\n\nThe only other occupant began to stir, as the white fur of the intruder's belly faded into charcoal, and the thick rim of a powerfully endowed sheath came into the unnatural light. The vast woman moaned all the louder, her buttocks slapping the ground hard enough to cause objects to shake, as she beckoned the cock to come to her, even as it proved reticent to leave the sheath.\n\n\"Target is growing agitated,\" the tall canid woman, now naked before the mother, told the listeners on the other end of the earpiece, \"setting the totem.\"\n\n\"Acknowledged, research advises the canticles of Erub, ninth-century translation. We have them on file if you need, ma'am.\"\n\nShe didn't, more than practised for this moment as she was, the words of the dead tongue slipping from her lips, as her fingers worked the case open again and withdrew two objects. They gleamed cleanly in the warm light, their surfaces smooth and milky. One was small, and slipped easily into her palm for now, but the other stood two hands tall, an elaborate figure of ivory, carved in the lifelike visage of a mare at prayer.\n\nShe carried the idol, and set it to the west of the moaning mother, who crooned for the intruder to stop, to come and place their cock within her folds, and worship life with her. Still the figure's sex had no reaction to the growing scent of lust, the overwhelming sweetness of milk and fertility that misted the air, she only spoke louder, her brow knit in concentration as she returned to the case, and held the other object in her palm.\n\n\"Idol is set,\" she said, turning the ring over in her fingers, \"begin a countdown, about to administer stimulants.\"\n\nSweat had started forming on her face, between her breasts, as the heady air grew closer, and her recitation stopped to withdraw a slim silver case of hypodermic needles.\n\nThe earpiece crackled, \"Starting timer, advise you apply the numbing agents as well. Even you won't be able to take the whole force.\"\n\nIf she intended to argue, she couldn't, her lips already working on a new set of chants to placate her mind and drive back the vapours. She set the first needle at her thigh, not even blinking as the potent mix of inhibitors and stimulants entered her bloodstream. The results were instant, as pink bloomed from the tip of her sheath, followed by the flared head of a stallion in their prime. But she didn't waste time at that, administering a second needle, leaving only two in reserve. At once, despite the growing readiness of the towering shaft that rose up to meet her own breasts, a chill of ice set into her veins as her nerves dulled.\n\nIf the mother cared, she did not show it, she merely raised her comparatively infantile arms to beckon the russet woman closer, to embrace them as her thighs creaked even wider, and another small flock of young escaped to make room for the visitor.\n\nSteadying herself, the strange woman stood before the mother, and put the ring of ivory over the head of her mare-breaker, biting her cheek as it squeezed the flare flat, and then compressed the long length of masculinity, all the way down to the hilt, leaving the meat straining, and throbbing, engorging even further.\n\n\"Beginning the ceremony,\" she panted, her eyes fixed on the glowing belly which eclipsed the face beyond. The words that came next were in a tongue that made her ears flatten and curl, but her resolve was absolute, and her will was cold iron. Advancing now between the gate of thighs, the humid heat alone was enough to dampen fur, as rich scents stronger than incense rose to curl about the nose and promise pleasures beyond all others. The massive cock, a tower of maleness, was a mere finger to the gaping hole, the mare's voice called, and sang, and begged, and the stranger's eyes narrowed.\n\n\"Do you really have, nothing to say?\"\n\nShe muttered those last words, before giving the creature what it wanted. The turgid crown spread the river, the waters parted, flooding the valley of the mare's loins. It was like pushing a straw through honey, the soft, warm, and yielding walls of the mare's pussy were an endless sea, that welcomed, that embraced, like a parent. A filthy, perverted, ever loving, mother. The stranger could feel the mare's heartbeat in the walls of her quim, a drumming that was in tune to the pulse of the earth, and the many more lives inside, a staccato rhythm that sought to draw her into line as well.\n\nInstead, she held, closed her eyes, timed out her breathing, and pistoned herself into the depths of the mother's womb. As her hips met the bulging sack of the broodmare, the world shook, and the mother roared, in pain and pleasure both. Her eyes had snapped wide, and her legs wrapped about the stranger, pulling her close, for her arms were too short to reach around her belly. The thin figure grunted, and her chant continued, the drugs working well to dull the heavenly grasp of the divine, and make it tolerable.\n\nEvery time she bottomed out, flare piercing the barrier of the cervix, the ivory band kissed the pouting labial lips, and a new tremor rippled down through the mountain of the mother's body. The lives inside visibly kickied, as the thick and veiny pole intruded on their home. The interloper's pace picked up, and the mare's voice rose, the two of them in a duet, as the discs in the ground glowed, and the miasma of their mating condensed into a pearl of fog.\n\nInside that swallowing flesh, something curled and coaxed about the canid’s member, a feeling of silk, of a hundred tongues, of the deepest kiss, of the most intimate caress, that sought to drag her deeper. It had an oily, alien, will of its own, and it was growing impatient.\n\n\"C-contact, made,\" the woman's voice was a rasp, her breath coming in ragged pants, the heat and the pressure building to the point of bursting. Every instinct in her screaming to give in, to thrust further, to cum, and cum again, and again, in tranquil worship of the goddess she was ploughing. The urge to become a father, a sire of nations, a forger of life, swelled. But she resisted, fingers groping, and finding, the box of needles, and giving herself the second dose of nerve blockers. Numbing cold flooded her limbs, and her chanting grew in confidence, her hips moving in an almost mechanical fashion, her mind closing off from her body, and her eyes locking with the twin gemstones of the mother's own. \"Reeling them in, set timer, second agent injected.\"\n\n\"Second agent, affirmative, starting timer, one hour till next dose. Is the barrier holding, ma'am?\"\n\nHer amber eyes glanced to the lines she had drawn in the soil, the shimmering wall of force that had sprung up around them, infinitesimally thin, but visible in a place so thick with power.\n\n\"Barrier secure, proceeding,\" she didn't have much time left. One hour of rutting had already transpired, lost in a hypnotic instant, her mind had protecting her from truly recognising the bliss of her actions. She couldn't, if she wished to complete the duty before her. So her hips moved, her body fucked, and her mind was apart, sensing as every retreating backswing became a battle against the nest of tongues and tails within the mare's sex. But each time, every thrust into paradise, embedded her further into her quarry, and every straining tug drew it closer to herself, further from the womb, from its lair.\n\nSweating profusely, her thighs sore and chaffed with the constant clapping, her balls aching from the endless edging, the canine figure grit her teeth, and felt the thing begin to budge. Her cock was a hook, and she a fisherman, and the quarry a whale she swore to catch. But the mare did not make things easy, as every time the she-dog withdrew or slowed to catch a breath, the blue woman dragged her back in, squeezed all the harder, moaned all the louder, fighting against the efforts to save her.\n\n\"Come, on! Don't you, have any fight, left in you!? Is this, all you are!? A fat...\"\n\n[i]Smack[/i].\n\n\"Bloated...\"\n\n[i]Slap.[/i]\n\n\"Mindless...\"\n\n[i]Squelch.[/i]\n\n\"Cock-holster!\"\n\n[i]Splurt.[/i]\n\nSnarling in a deep-seated rage, a frustration that had been buried for decades, the maned wolf drove her fist into the mare's weeping glans, and twisted.\n\nA scream of ecstasy ripped from the azure woman, her thighs spasming, and her balls heaving. Her urethral drooling went from a river to a fountain, and her vagina from a vice to the jaws of life. But the thing inside, the thing that had been curled so tight about her soul, was unseated in that eruption, just long enough for its slippery tail to catch on the band of ivory.\n\n\"MA'AM!\" her headset screamed, \"your timer! Administer the third syringe!\"\n\nTwo hours, she had been fucking, and rutting, and now cock-fisting, the mindlessly orgasming sack for two hours, and she was beginning to feel it. The ache in her groin, the numbness of her hands, the rawness of her voice, and the burning of her lungs, but she wouldn't stop, not when she was so close.\n\nShaking, her free hand grasped the needle, and jabbed it straight into her testicle, letting the fire and ice of the mixture flood her system, and let her maintain her fury.\n\nSo close, victory was so, close. If she could just make it cum like that again, one, more, time!\n\nHer fingers were in the mare's ass, her fist in her dick, her cock in her womb. Three points of contact, three sets of pounding limbs pummelling pleasure from the quaking, screaming, fat, stupid, whore of a horse. That was her fourth bludgeon, the foul cursing and belittling that poured from her maw. That anyone, anything, could dare fall so far, could live with itself in such a state, could give in and let a disgusting little urge dominate their being so totally. It was pathetic, and she hated it, hated that weakness, hated that surrender, hated that submission, hated that...\n\n\"You call yourself a mother!\"\n\nThe thing twitched, the mare's eyes flew open, and the dam broke. An explosion of virility erupted from the equine's core, a tidal wave of white that burst from her dick-slit, splattering her teats and her face in the torrent, and a wail of pure ecstasy that was matched by the keening cry of forces unseen. The pressure of the orgasm was enough to dislodge the canid, and as her flared prick was expelled, with it came a long, thick, tendril of white. A slithering, serpentine tail, that pulsed with its own light. It squirmed, and warred, but half its length was caught and coiled about the ivory cock-ring.\n\n\"Got you!\"\n\nRoaring her triumph, the towering woman slammed her tip inside the mother’s cunt one last time, and came. A thick, fermented brew of white, boiled up from her balls, straining her tubes, and forced up, up her cock in a visible bulge. It caught on the glowing band, creaked, before shattering the talisman in a flash of brilliant light.\n\nAll at once, a geyser of sterile, geneless, nullifying cream, erupted into the horse’s sex, coating everything in the very anathema of procreation, disinfecting it with the essence of futility. For the stranger was barren, and no child would come from the mother again while her essence remained.\n\nRepulsed, the curse, the squirming serpent, fled its host. A fat, featureless, egg-shaped head, emerging with a squeal like nails down a chalk-board, wriggling like an oversized sperm in the hunt for a fertile body to house it. Blindly, it latched onto the only vessel it could find, unable to see that the heat and feel of fecundity inside was merely an echo, an after-image of its last victim.\n\nWrithing across the floor, it dug the pointed tip of its head into the gap of the idol's thighs, burrowing into the enchanted ivory, seeking to mate and impregnate the statue with the gift of everlasting fertility. But all it did, was trap itself inside a new, timeless prison. The curse transferred, a rapid transformation overtook both the idol, and the mare.\n\nThe ivory gut began to bulge, its breasts began to sag, its face went from peace to wanton pleasure. And in turn, Julia Salith, whinnied.\n\nHer belly trembled, and shrank, as an explosion of births tore through her cunt, a veritable jungle's worth of life exiting her in only seconds. Squealing, yipping, barking, hissing, a thousand feral animals fled her uterus in a rush of fluids, each carrying a piece of her, and the curse's mark. But the sapphire mare didn't care, her eyes were rolling, and her tongue was hanging loose from her mouth, as with each squeeze of her contracting form, each orgasm it gave, a measure of reason returned to her mind.\n\nFinally, as her body was left empty, her breasts merely obese, her thighs merely gross, and her balls merely huge, the last vestige of the spell that had taken her, all those years ago in that cave, left, and her eyes focused on the woman above her, the woman she'd last seen as a little girl, crying in the back seat of a taxi.\n\n\"L-luci? Is, that, y- Ghk!\"\n\nLuciana Salith, grabbed her estranged mother by the neck, and growled in her ear.\n\n\"No one, breaks a promise, to my sister.\"\n\nThe full grown maned wolf let go of her mother’s throat, straightening and dusting herself, before packing her briefcase as if on her way to a business meeting.\n\n“Come on,” she extended a paw to the gasping mare, case in the other, the real world just behind her “it’s time to go home.” ", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Deep in the hollow the broodmare birthed, compacted walls of refuse and soil surrounding the narrow den that barely served to fit her enormity. The cave of trash pulsed with warmth, and soft light, for the creature at its heart, like the ant queen in her nest, lay fat and indolent, her womb radiant with life. Skin stretched thinner than paper, yet harder than iron, the corpulent girth glowed from within, the hundreds, thousands of lives inside, visible as dark anti-stars in luminous space.

Veins like tree roots buttressed and girded the precious firmament, while two vast eyes in the form of monstrous breasts loomed and stared above, weeping constant white tears as if some spark within the mother of all bemoaned her fate. Or perhaps it was merely from the pleasure, as a trio of beasts worked ceaselessly at the gushing river that was her cunt, her corridor of copulation in a constant state of labour and sex.

Sagging like twin guardians, twisting, tumorous, testes squirmed in their flesh prison, sending a persistent ooze of virility from the den, pollinating plant and animal alike in a line of life that stretched throughout the landfill, leaving a path of green and vibrant growth among the plastics and shrapnel.

Behind all that, and least of it, the face of the mare was beatific, peaceful, primal. Her hair was a vast halo that meshed and entwined about the virulent growth of flowers. Her bounteous lips quirked permanently in an eternal expression of pleasure. Heavily lidded, two emerald eyes glowed in the reflected brilliance of her womb, seeming to see all, yet aware of nothing.

Howling, a dog was forced to withdraw their dripping cock, as a new tide flooded the river, a quake that sent six more little ones spilling forth in a headlong gush. The rim of the broodmare's womanhood barely had to part to allow their passage. On instinct, following the wordless incantations of their mother, the puppies, kittens, and hatchlings, blindly found the flows of milk, and began to lap.

But then the root canopy of the den was disturbed, the protective beasts growled a challenge, as an interloper dared invade the sanctity of the mother's home. It was slender and tall, the pointed face dispassionate, a chill preceding it that caused the hackles of every animal to rise. They recognised a challenger, a creature confident in its right to respect.

That aura of authority, and the faint scent of the familiar about them, caused the guardians to falter, sniffing as the loping figure strode forth. Like the mother, it muttered odd syllables beneath its breath, but with clear intent, and the words caused the simple beasts to tuck their tails and flee, leaving only the stranger, and the goddess of the grotto.

They judged the mother of the scrapyard with their golden eyes, waiting, as if expecting... something, from the statue of flesh. But the mother did not acknowledge them, she only noticed that her needs were not being met, that cubs left her womb with nothing to replace them, so she sang her song louder, seeking to entice a lover. The newcomer's long, narrow muzzle, looked disappointed for a moment, before firming into chiselled wroth, fangs bared. She steadied her grip on a briefcase at her side, then circled the corpulent mare, her muttering constant as she used her free hand to score a deep line in the soil with a manicured claw.

"Drawing the first circle, no reaction from target. The cardinals are Gow, Hesta, Salamander, Toka," she spoke clearly, laying small discs at select points, each etched with markings gathered from across the world.

An earpiece clipped to her right lobe echoed her words. "Gow, Hesta, Salamander, Toka, confirmed. Advise you proceed to self-manifestation, full contact will be needed."

There was a pause, but only briefly as the lanky woman again looked over the reclining giant. Then she set down the case, and began to unbutton her perfectly tailored suit. Orange and white fur spilled from about her neck in a regal mane, narrow shoulders were tightly cast in fit, wiry muscle. She removed and folded her crisp, white, shirt, letting small breasts stand proudly on a body bereft of fat, a hint of smaller nipples visible across her abdomen, parting the well-conditioned coat. The jacket and shirt vanished inside the case, and again there was a brief pause before she grabbed the hem of her trousers.

The only other occupant began to stir, as the white fur of the intruder's belly faded into charcoal, and the thick rim of a powerfully endowed sheath came into the unnatural light. The vast woman moaned all the louder, her buttocks slapping the ground hard enough to cause objects to shake, as she beckoned the cock to come to her, even as it proved reticent to leave the sheath.

"Target is growing agitated," the tall canid woman, now naked before the mother, told the listeners on the other end of the earpiece, "setting the totem."

"Acknowledged, research advises the canticles of Erub, ninth-century translation. We have them on file if you need, ma'am."

She didn't, more than practised for this moment as she was, the words of the dead tongue slipping from her lips, as her fingers worked the case open again and withdrew two objects. They gleamed cleanly in the warm light, their surfaces smooth and milky. One was small, and slipped easily into her palm for now, but the other stood two hands tall, an elaborate figure of ivory, carved in the lifelike visage of a mare at prayer.

She carried the idol, and set it to the west of the moaning mother, who crooned for the intruder to stop, to come and place their cock within her folds, and worship life with her. Still the figure's sex had no reaction to the growing scent of lust, the overwhelming sweetness of milk and fertility that misted the air, she only spoke louder, her brow knit in concentration as she returned to the case, and held the other object in her palm.

"Idol is set," she said, turning the ring over in her fingers, "begin a countdown, about to administer stimulants."

Sweat had started forming on her face, between her breasts, as the heady air grew closer, and her recitation stopped to withdraw a slim silver case of hypodermic needles.

The earpiece crackled, "Starting timer, advise you apply the numbing agents as well. Even you won't be able to take the whole force."

If she intended to argue, she couldn't, her lips already working on a new set of chants to placate her mind and drive back the vapours. She set the first needle at her thigh, not even blinking as the potent mix of inhibitors and stimulants entered her bloodstream. The results were instant, as pink bloomed from the tip of her sheath, followed by the flared head of a stallion in their prime. But she didn't waste time at that, administering a second needle, leaving only two in reserve. At once, despite the growing readiness of the towering shaft that rose up to meet her own breasts, a chill of ice set into her veins as her nerves dulled.

If the mother cared, she did not show it, she merely raised her comparatively infantile arms to beckon the russet woman closer, to embrace them as her thighs creaked even wider, and another small flock of young escaped to make room for the visitor.

Steadying herself, the strange woman stood before the mother, and put the ring of ivory over the head of her mare-breaker, biting her cheek as it squeezed the flare flat, and then compressed the long length of masculinity, all the way down to the hilt, leaving the meat straining, and throbbing, engorging even further.

"Beginning the ceremony," she panted, her eyes fixed on the glowing belly which eclipsed the face beyond. The words that came next were in a tongue that made her ears flatten and curl, but her resolve was absolute, and her will was cold iron. Advancing now between the gate of thighs, the humid heat alone was enough to dampen fur, as rich scents stronger than incense rose to curl about the nose and promise pleasures beyond all others. The massive cock, a tower of maleness, was a mere finger to the gaping hole, the mare's voice called, and sang, and begged, and the stranger's eyes narrowed.

"Do you really have, nothing to say?"

She muttered those last words, before giving the creature what it wanted. The turgid crown spread the river, the waters parted, flooding the valley of the mare's loins. It was like pushing a straw through honey, the soft, warm, and yielding walls of the mare's pussy were an endless sea, that welcomed, that embraced, like a parent. A filthy, perverted, ever loving, mother. The stranger could feel the mare's heartbeat in the walls of her quim, a drumming that was in tune to the pulse of the earth, and the many more lives inside, a staccato rhythm that sought to draw her into line as well.

Instead, she held, closed her eyes, timed out her breathing, and pistoned herself into the depths of the mother's womb. As her hips met the bulging sack of the broodmare, the world shook, and the mother roared, in pain and pleasure both. Her eyes had snapped wide, and her legs wrapped about the stranger, pulling her close, for her arms were too short to reach around her belly. The thin figure grunted, and her chant continued, the drugs working well to dull the heavenly grasp of the divine, and make it tolerable.

Every time she bottomed out, flare piercing the barrier of the cervix, the ivory band kissed the pouting labial lips, and a new tremor rippled down through the mountain of the mother's body. The lives inside visibly kickied, as the thick and veiny pole intruded on their home. The interloper's pace picked up, and the mare's voice rose, the two of them in a duet, as the discs in the ground glowed, and the miasma of their mating condensed into a pearl of fog.

Inside that swallowing flesh, something curled and coaxed about the canid’s member, a feeling of silk, of a hundred tongues, of the deepest kiss, of the most intimate caress, that sought to drag her deeper. It had an oily, alien, will of its own, and it was growing impatient.

"C-contact, made," the woman's voice was a rasp, her breath coming in ragged pants, the heat and the pressure building to the point of bursting. Every instinct in her screaming to give in, to thrust further, to cum, and cum again, and again, in tranquil worship of the goddess she was ploughing. The urge to become a father, a sire of nations, a forger of life, swelled. But she resisted, fingers groping, and finding, the box of needles, and giving herself the second dose of nerve blockers. Numbing cold flooded her limbs, and her chanting grew in confidence, her hips moving in an almost mechanical fashion, her mind closing off from her body, and her eyes locking with the twin gemstones of the mother's own. "Reeling them in, set timer, second agent injected."

"Second agent, affirmative, starting timer, one hour till next dose. Is the barrier holding, ma'am?"

Her amber eyes glanced to the lines she had drawn in the soil, the shimmering wall of force that had sprung up around them, infinitesimally thin, but visible in a place so thick with power.

"Barrier secure, proceeding," she didn't have much time left. One hour of rutting had already transpired, lost in a hypnotic instant, her mind had protecting her from truly recognising the bliss of her actions. She couldn't, if she wished to complete the duty before her. So her hips moved, her body fucked, and her mind was apart, sensing as every retreating backswing became a battle against the nest of tongues and tails within the mare's sex. But each time, every thrust into paradise, embedded her further into her quarry, and every straining tug drew it closer to herself, further from the womb, from its lair.

Sweating profusely, her thighs sore and chaffed with the constant clapping, her balls aching from the endless edging, the canine figure grit her teeth, and felt the thing begin to budge. Her cock was a hook, and she a fisherman, and the quarry a whale she swore to catch. But the mare did not make things easy, as every time the she-dog withdrew or slowed to catch a breath, the blue woman dragged her back in, squeezed all the harder, moaned all the louder, fighting against the efforts to save her.

"Come, on! Don't you, have any fight, left in you!? Is this, all you are!? A fat..."

Smack.

"Bloated..."

Slap.

"Mindless..."

Squelch.

"Cock-holster!"

Splurt.

Snarling in a deep-seated rage, a frustration that had been buried for decades, the maned wolf drove her fist into the mare's weeping glans, and twisted.

A scream of ecstasy ripped from the azure woman, her thighs spasming, and her balls heaving. Her urethral drooling went from a river to a fountain, and her vagina from a vice to the jaws of life. But the thing inside, the thing that had been curled so tight about her soul, was unseated in that eruption, just long enough for its slippery tail to catch on the band of ivory.

"MA'AM!" her headset screamed, "your timer! Administer the third syringe!"

Two hours, she had been fucking, and rutting, and now cock-fisting, the mindlessly orgasming sack for two hours, and she was beginning to feel it. The ache in her groin, the numbness of her hands, the rawness of her voice, and the burning of her lungs, but she wouldn't stop, not when she was so close.

Shaking, her free hand grasped the needle, and jabbed it straight into her testicle, letting the fire and ice of the mixture flood her system, and let her maintain her fury.

So close, victory was so, close. If she could just make it cum like that again, one, more, time!

Her fingers were in the mare's ass, her fist in her dick, her cock in her womb. Three points of contact, three sets of pounding limbs pummelling pleasure from the quaking, screaming, fat, stupid, whore of a horse. That was her fourth bludgeon, the foul cursing and belittling that poured from her maw. That anyone, anything, could dare fall so far, could live with itself in such a state, could give in and let a disgusting little urge dominate their being so totally. It was pathetic, and she hated it, hated that weakness, hated that surrender, hated that submission, hated that...

"You call yourself a mother!"

The thing twitched, the mare's eyes flew open, and the dam broke. An explosion of virility erupted from the equine's core, a tidal wave of white that burst from her dick-slit, splattering her teats and her face in the torrent, and a wail of pure ecstasy that was matched by the keening cry of forces unseen. The pressure of the orgasm was enough to dislodge the canid, and as her flared prick was expelled, with it came a long, thick, tendril of white. A slithering, serpentine tail, that pulsed with its own light. It squirmed, and warred, but half its length was caught and coiled about the ivory cock-ring.

"Got you!"

Roaring her triumph, the towering woman slammed her tip inside the mother’s cunt one last time, and came. A thick, fermented brew of white, boiled up from her balls, straining her tubes, and forced up, up her cock in a visible bulge. It caught on the glowing band, creaked, before shattering the talisman in a flash of brilliant light.

All at once, a geyser of sterile, geneless, nullifying cream, erupted into the horse’s sex, coating everything in the very anathema of procreation, disinfecting it with the essence of futility. For the stranger was barren, and no child would come from the mother again while her essence remained.

Repulsed, the curse, the squirming serpent, fled its host. A fat, featureless, egg-shaped head, emerging with a squeal like nails down a chalk-board, wriggling like an oversized sperm in the hunt for a fertile body to house it. Blindly, it latched onto the only vessel it could find, unable to see that the heat and feel of fecundity inside was merely an echo, an after-image of its last victim.

Writhing across the floor, it dug the pointed tip of its head into the gap of the idol's thighs, burrowing into the enchanted ivory, seeking to mate and impregnate the statue with the gift of everlasting fertility. But all it did, was trap itself inside a new, timeless prison. The curse transferred, a rapid transformation overtook both the idol, and the mare.

The ivory gut began to bulge, its breasts began to sag, its face went from peace to wanton pleasure. And in turn, Julia Salith, whinnied.

Her belly trembled, and shrank, as an explosion of births tore through her cunt, a veritable jungle's worth of life exiting her in only seconds. Squealing, yipping, barking, hissing, a thousand feral animals fled her uterus in a rush of fluids, each carrying a piece of her, and the curse's mark. But the sapphire mare didn't care, her eyes were rolling, and her tongue was hanging loose from her mouth, as with each squeeze of her contracting form, each orgasm it gave, a measure of reason returned to her mind.

Finally, as her body was left empty, her breasts merely obese, her thighs merely gross, and her balls merely huge, the last vestige of the spell that had taken her, all those years ago in that cave, left, and her eyes focused on the woman above her, the woman she'd last seen as a little girl, crying in the back seat of a taxi.

"L-luci? Is, that, y- Ghk!"

Luciana Salith, grabbed her estranged mother by the neck, and growled in her ear.

"No one, breaks a promise, to my sister."

The full grown maned wolf let go of her mother’s throat, straightening and dusting herself, before packing her briefcase as if on her way to a business meeting.

“Come on,” she extended a paw to the gasping mare, case in the other, the real world just behind her “it’s time to go home.” ", "pools_count": 2, "title": "Julia: Life of the All Mother. Pt.6 The Redeemed", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "text/rtf", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "3", "name": "Violence", "description": "Mild violence", "rating_id": "1" }, { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "f", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "9", "views": "379" }