The street shimmered from the evening rains, making the cobbles glow like living embers from the streetlights overhead. The warm, orange radiance of the lumin crystals bathed the solitary figure, casting an inky black shadow over the rough brick wall. The fine dusting of shimmering crystal set the drab brown stone to sparkle. For the tenth time that night since he began that fearful journey, the young djinn thumbed his phone, the blue-white glare reflecting on the gold rings set in his long, furry ears, making them burn white. His clawed thumb slid down the screen, scrolling the single image of a black heart over a field of purple. Beneath the nondescript logo were simply two words. 

“Blackheart Breeders,” the djinn muttered. He placed his phone back into the pocket of his jacket and turned his button nose to the black iron door. Fiery veins of liquid mithril were etched into the dark metal, weaving about in a seemingly random path. “This doesn’t look like much.” He shuffled his hooves on the pavement. “Maybe I should go. I feel sort of out of place.”

He stuck his claws into the pockets of his jacket and made to turn around when from behind came the faint creak of metal on metal. A quiet squeak that grew into a shrill screech like that of some howling fiend. The djinn whirled, his golden eyes wide. The door yawned open, spilling purple light onto the crystalline pavement. The violet radiance oozed like some noxious poison, threatening to overwhelm him, yet he could not move. Not even when the cloying odor of incense choked his lungs, making his eyes itch and his throat burn. Not when the strange lilting flute music poured into his ears, sloshing around in his fevered brain like a heady wine. He could but only stand transfixed, utterly speechless. For the creature which stood framed in that doorway had rendered him powerless to move. 

“Um, h-hello,” the djinn stammered. 

The figure in the doorway smiled with thick, wet lips painted blacker than hell itself. Its golden eyes were two molten pools made all the more intense by the black eyeshadow that framed those enchanting orbs. Its hair was long, dark as coffee and piled atop its head, held in place by a long, golden pin. A jingling bauble swayed gently from the end of the pin with the slight movement of the beautiful head. Its ears, long, darkly furred, swivelled about, upright and alert as the creature continued to study him. 

“I-I’m Miloh,” said the djinn. “I-I got this invite and--”

“I know who you are,” said a voice like a thin flute. Not quite masculine, but not quite feminine. A rich, melodious tone that seemed to shift with every syllable. 

Miloh gulped, his tongue having been taken by the creature’s voice. He dared to look away from those terrible eyes, steal himself from their radiant light. He let his gaze wander from the plush, ebon lips, down the delicate chin and the supple neck. Its shoulders were bare, while a satin robe encased a flat, narrow chest, spilling open into a soft, round belly and wide, curving hips that made Miloh’s mouth suddenly water. The creature moved, or was it merely trying to better position itself, he wondered. The folds of the robe opened, revealing a bulge barely contained by silk underwear. The creature was male! A male djinn, like him. 

“See what you like?” the djinn asked. He shifted a thick, strong thigh, the muscles dancing beneath the soft fat and the thick, dark fur of his leg. His robe stopped at mid-thigh, giving Miloh quite the view. The djinn’s hooves were painted a vibrant purple. “A bit of a family tradition,” he said, seeing Miloh’s gaze lowering to his hoof. “Come, we’ve been expecting you, Miloh.”

The djinn crossed a slender arm over his round belly, the navel a deep cleft in his chocolate skin. A golden ring hung from his bellybutton, a tiny diamond flickering like a miniature star in the streetlight. The djinn extended his other hand, the claws painted the same purple hue as his hooves. His black lips curled at the edges, parting ever so slightly that his white fangs may shine, white on black. Miloh’s heart hammered in his thin chest. Sweat soaked the neckline of his blue and white striped tee shirt, pooling in the armpits under his jacket. The night had been warm, he was wearing only a pair of short, denim cut-offs that barely contained the fat swell of his fleshy rump. Now, he felt a chill around his legs as he stared up at the beautiful, frightening creature. The djinn’s horns were curved like scimitars and framed in the ghoulish purple glow. The creature was like an enchanting demon. A demon that beckoned to Miloh, his hand turned up, the palm soft and inviting. Tempting the young djinn with his very soul.

“I-I don't know about this,” he said at last. He scuffed the concrete with a hoof, a dull grey hoof. His long, dragon-like tail, the tip crowned by a tuft of almost amber fur. Unlike the other djinn, his skin was light, almost tan, while his fur was a soft, honey-gold. “I think I might be in the wrong neighborhood.”

“Nonsense,” replied the other djinn. “We only invite those we deem to be,” he stuck a finger to his cheek, “of a certain quality.” The djinn’s black lips parted, his fangs flashing in a brilliant smile. “I can assure you, you have come to the right place.” 

Before Miloh could stammer out a reply, the djinn had seized his wrist. Those slender fingers locked around him like iron. For such a delicate creature, Miloh thought, he was certainly strong. The djinn’s next thought was drowned out by a sea of swirling purple as he was dragged through the door. The rusted steel slammed shut and Miloh stood in a wide foyer of shining black marble. Thin, white veins traversed the black expanse, reflecting the purple light that seemed to radiate from the very walls. On the far wall, a large, black heart was set on steel pegs, making it appear to float in space, the initials, “BHB,” were etched in gold leaf upon the smooth ebony. Glaring blue neon seeped from behind the heart, spilling over the purple wall. The intoxicating bite of incense permeated the air from the smoking tapers set within heavy, black pots, a swirling fog that dulled his mind and made him swoon. Miloh stumbled, swaying to the lilting wail of the flute music. He would have fallen if not for the gentle claws of the other djinn. 

“Easy there,” the djinn said. “Don’t want to hurt yourself, not yet anyway.” 

“W-Where am I?” Miloh said. 

“This,” the other djinn spoke. “Is the Blackheart Breeders Club and I am your gracious host. You may call me Sashur.” 

The name rose like a purr from the djinn’s lips, a delicate caress along Miloh’s ear, making him shiver. 

Sashur came close, his chocolate skin smelled of vanilla, spice and licorice. He slowly slung his robed arms around Miloh, pressing his soft, bare belly into the djinn’s hip. “Tell me, Miloh, what do you wish for?”

The words were a dark whisper. Miloh’s heart thudded, his throat constricting. He made to speak, but his lips were so dry that he could not form the words. 

“This is a breeder’s club,” Sashur said, his golden eyes sparkling in the violet glow. His white fangs were stained purple, surrounded by a field of deepest jet. “Do you want to breed me?”

Miloh’s heart flew into his throat. Sweat prickled his tanned flesh as he stared, wide-eyed at Sashur. “B-Breed?” His voice was a thin squeak, just audible above the wail of the flute. 

Sashur’s claw fell to the sash of his robe. Plucking the knot, he let the shimmering satin fall to a pool around his hooves. His body was mouthwatering. The skin was a rich cocoa, the nipples like two dark drops of chocolate. His belly was round and soft, widening into a pair of hips to make any woman jealous. Sashur turned, revealing his back. A black tattoo of a heart was emblazoned just above his right hip. However, Miloh did not notice the tattoo, for his attention was riveted to the ripe, dark swell of the djinn’s buttocks. Each jiggling cheek was the size of a ham. The black band of Sashur’s thong did nothing to contain that massive chocolate peach that wobbled slightly as the djinn swayed his hips in time to the music. 

“Do you like that?” Sashur said. His claw traced a slow, meandering path down his side to cup his fat buttocks. “Or perhaps you would like to be bred instead?”

The djinn whirled around, now facing Miloh. His pendulous bulge hung from his pelvis, two great orbs churning beneath a throbbing cock. Did he just think the word, throbbing? Miloh closed his eyes, shaking his head until the gold rings jingled from his long ears. But, when his eyes opened, the beautiful Sashur was close, so very, temptingly, agonizingly close. The djinn’s black lips grazed Miloh’s slackened mouth, offering only the merest taste. 

“You do not have to choose right away.” His voice was a husky purr. His claws came up, playing in the mop of Miloh’s honey-gold hair. His furry fingertips rasped along Miloh’s ears, tugging the sensitive lobes to make the djinn quiver. “You can show me when we get to the room.”

“Room?” Miloh asked. 

“Yes,” replied Sashur. His golden eyes snapped wide. “Oh, did you want us to do it here? In the lobby?” His mouth spilt into a wide grin. “Oh, you are just our type, you naughty boy.” He clasped Miloh’s hands, bringing them up to his bare chest. 

“Uh, that is,” Miloh stammered. “I um, was just…”

“Just what?” Sashur chirped. His long tail swished behind him. 

“N-Nothing,” Miloh muttered, looking at the polished marble of the floor. 

“Wonderful,” Sashur said, pausing to scoop up his discarded robe. “Then, please, follow me.” He gave Miloh’s wrists a tug, dragging the young djinn from the lobby. Their hooves clacking on the hard stone, he added, “I have just the room picked out for you.”

Hard marble gave way to a deep, soft carpet that wound down the narrow hall, muffling the hooves of the djinn. Miloh’s ears pricked up, for he took notice of how the walls had changed to a dark wood paneling. Golden moulding separated the wall from the deep green of the ceiling. The dark colors seemed to absorb the pale light of the meager crystal pots which were suspended from gold chains above him, while smaller crystals cast their pale bloom upon carpet from the baseboards. Here and there, a small table or urn would mark the only other other objects in the hall. Miloh’s gaze wandered up the wall, taking note of the curious portraits which hung in gilt frames. 

“I thought portraits were supposed to be of faces,” he said. 

“Not these ones,” replied Sashur with a quick snicker. 

All along the hall, paintings of bellies were proudly displayed. Ripe, swollen and gravid, those massive orbs of brown and gold, mocha and dark chocolate bulged out, their navels distended like tiny mountains. Miloh felt the heat rise in his cheeks and he turned instead to look at the carpet. 

“So who are they?” he asked. 

Sashur smiled, his golden eyes flashing. “Why, each and everyone one of them is a dear member of our fine establishment.”

Miloh did not say it, but he had also noticed that each portrait was of a male belly. He bit his lip, the desire to flee welling up inside him. However, the firm hold of the other djinn would not let him get away. 

“No need to be so worried,” said Sashur. He guided Miloh to a door set with a golden handle. “Here we are, the room.”

Beside the door was a gilt frame with no canvas. 

“What is that one for?” Miloh asked. 

“You, perhaps,” replied Sashur. “But, enough silly talk.” He pushed open the door. “It’s time for the fun.”

Miloh stepped into a room with thick, brown carpet, almost like wool. The walls were a subtle navy blue, as was the ceiling. A floor length mirror stood to the far end, next to an opening which Miloh could see was a bathroom. The main furniture consisted of an enormous bed that could have held an entire army. The massive slab of goose feathers was covered in a slick skin of silver silk. A black comforter slumped from the sheets as Sashur pulled back the blanket. At the head of the bed, a pile of pillows of various sizes squatted against the tall, quilted headboard. Beside the bed a single glow cube sat upon a night stand of polished ebony. 

“Turn off the light, would you,” said Sasher. 

The djinn placed a hand on the cube as Miloh turned down the light. The shadows were soon infused with a radiant purple as the cube flared to life. 

“Y-You seem to really like purple,” Miloh said. 

Sasher sat on the edge of the bed, his legs together, one hand in his lap. “It’s a family tradition, as I have said. He patted the bed. “Come, sit.”

The djinn’s voice has lost the haughty, flirtatious air from outside. Now, when Sashur spoke, it was a low, gentle sigh, like a lover. Against his better judgement, Miloh found himself sitting down beside the djinn. 

“Take off your jacket.” Sashur pointed to the carpet. “Just drop it anywhere. It doesn’t matter.”

Miloh shrugged out of his jacket, letting the garment fall to the floor. But, he had kept his phone in his hand. When Sashur caught sight of the device, the djinn snatched the flickering thing from Miloh’s claw. 

“Don’t need this,” he said, placing the phone on the table. Turning back to the djinn, he asked, “Do you want anything? A soda perhaps?”

“Soda?” Miloh squeaked. 

“Oh yes, we do not serve alcohol here,” said Sashur with a hand on his breast. “Not with the sometimes delicate conditions of our members.”

“Oh, no. I-I’m fine,” Miloh replied. His ears drooped.

Sashur leaned against him, his bare shoulder pressing into Miloh’s arm. “Very well. Shall we begin?”

“W-What are you going to do?” whimpered Miloh. 

“Only make you feel good,” whispered Sashur with a wet smack of his full, black lips. 

Miloh gulped, entranced by those luscious, black pearls that hung before him. His own lips quivered, lusting to plant themselves on those shining cherries. Sweat prickled his tanned skin, goose pimples rising up along his neck as he leaned in. His eyes slowly closed as he met Sashur’s mouth. Those lips enveloped him, claiming his mouth as he in turn pressed against the other djinn. Warm, soft, wet, he longed to flick his tongue across that black expanse. Miloh’s pink tongue darted out touching Sashur’s lip. The other djinn giggled, opening his jaws, allowing Miloh to enter. Miloh’s tongue slid along the smooth white fangs, rubbing the roof of Sashur’s mouth until the other djinn let out a moan. 

Sashur purred deep in his narrow chest, compelling Miloh to advance. Meanwhile, the dark djinn placed his claw on Miloh’s thigh. His fingers tangled in the thick fur of Miloh’s leg, skimming down to his knee and back to where the fur ended and the bare golden flesh began. Miloh trembled, his cock straining against his denim cut-offs as nimble fingers tickled his inner thigh. He raised a clawed hand, taking Sashur by the arm, holding him close. Those nimble fingers tickled his bare skin, sliding up his leg, so temptingly, dangerously close to the swelling bulge in his shorts. Then came a snap. 

Miloh’s ears pricked up and the djinn tore himself from Sashur’s swollen mouth with a wild expression. He looked to his waist to find that his shorts were unbuttoned. Not only that, the djinn realized, but his zipper was down. Sashur’s hand was stuffed well into his cut-offs, the fingers wrapping around his manhood. 

“You let your guard down,” the djinn whispered. 

Miloh’s heart pounded in stark terror. What had he gotten into? He placed a hand on Sashur’s arm, trying to pry the djinn from his groin. “I-I think I made a mistake.”

“Nonsense,” said Sashur. Putting his lips to Miloh’s ear, he blew gently. The other djinn trembled. “It’s good to let down your guard sometimes. Let those heavy inhibitions go and seek pleasure for a time.” He nibbled Miloh’s delicate ear lobe, the most sensitive area for any djinn. “Doesn't it feel good to let yourself go?”

It felt wonderful, Miloh thought. The djinn’s strength waned, his slender body going soft in Sashur’s claws. The dark djinn draped an arm around Miloh’s shoulders. Sitting with his knees tucked beneath his round buttocks, Sashur leaned into Miloh. His black lips nuzzled the djinn’s ear, taking the delicate honey-gold lobe in his fangs, biting down ever so slightly so that Miloh shivered in his grasp. His wicked tongue slithering out like a serpent, sliding along the furry ear, exploring the swirl of Miloh’s canal as he plunged deep into that dark crevasse. Miloh gave a whimpering cry, his body shuddering as Sashur plumbed those forbidden depths. Meanwhile, his hand skirted up from Miloh’s groin, tracing along the djinn’s heaving belly to slip beneath his shirt. Miloh jumped as clawed fingers slid along his chest, raising his shirt up to his chin. 

“Let’s lose this, shall we,” Sashur whispered. 

Miloh’s shirt joined his jacket as the djinn now embraced Sashur fully. Miloh’s head swam, the sharp bite of incense mingled with the scents of Sashur’s, soft, warm body. His arms wrapped around the other djinn, dragging Sashur to him. His lips fell to the black mouth, plunging down the curve of the djinn’s throat. His chocolate flesh smelled divine, thought Miloh. Sashur, ever the experienced lover, allowed himself to fall back with nary a word, offering his flat chest to the other djinn. Miloh planted his lips to Sashur’s chest, raining his hot kisses on the dark skin as he lit upon a rigid nipple. The dark bud was fully erect, the areolas bumpy and puffy. With glee, he wrapped his hungry lips around that hard, chocolate nub. His tongue, rough, firm, swirled around the circle of dark flesh, savoring the rich tang of Sashur’s sweat. The dark djinn now trembled, convulsing in Miloh’s grip as pleasure struck him like a wave. 

“O-Oh,” Sashur moaned as Miloh flicked his nipple. “Oh yes, yes!” He cupped the back of Miloh’s head, his fingers twining in the mop of honey-gold. “I haven’t felt like this in so long.” His brown cheeks bloomed a deep scarlet. “Mmm, do you wish to breed me then? I shan’t protest.”

Miloh did not hear the words of the other djinn, so lost was he in the richness of Sashur’s welcoming body. Releasing his hold on the now slick, shiny teat, he instead fell to the soft expanse which swelled over Sashur’s lap. His belly was round like a small ball and soft as down as Miloh gripped his wide hips, forcing him to the bed. Miloh’s lips glided over the chocolate hump to lay siege to the deep well of Sashur’s navel. Passing the golden ring, its diamond a scintillating swirl of color, Miloh’s tongue slid down the dark shaft, lapping the soft, quivering walls of the djinn’s belly button. 

“A-Ah,” cried Sashur. “Oh, that’s amazing. Yes, oh you are simply perfect.”

Miloh’s temples pounded. He rose from Sashur’s belly, his face dipping towards the swollen bulge straining against the djinn’s black thong. His nostrils flared, inhaling the pungent musk of Sashur’s ample nethers. His muzzle dropped, just nudging the black silk, when he stopped. 

“Oh, do not stop now,” cried Sashur. “Please, take me.”

Miloh froze, he had never [i]taken[/i] anyone before now. The djinn raised his head, offering a nervous chuckle. 

“What’s this,” came a musical voice from the doorway. 

Miloh yelped and turned from the trembling Sashur. Framed in the open door was the mirror image of the djinn on the bed. His hair was worn in a series of long braids that trailed to his rump. A silver piercing hung from his navel, set with a polished shard of pure jet. His opened robe clung to his body, seeming to amplify every curve rather than to conceal him. Like Sashur, he too was clad in a black thong and very much like the other djinn, his bulge was a massive swell that protruded from his wide hips. 

“Sashur, ever the greedy one,” he scolded. He stepped into the room on purple hooves. “You know I wanted the new member. He let the robe slip from his shoulders, the garment pooling at his hooves. 

“Oh enough, Bantur,” replied Sashur. “You took too long. Besides,” he sat up, placing his arms around Miloh. “We can always share him.”

“Indeed, brother,” Bantur replied, his eyes widening. “Yes, I do say that our guest deserves double the pleasure on his first night.”

“I quite agree,” said Sashur. “You never have a second first time.” He stroked Miloh’s ear. “We simply must make it special.” He gave the djinn a quick peck on the cheek. 

Bantur glided across the brown shag, his long dragon-like tail trailing behind him like a train. Joining the pair, he sat on the other side of Miloh, his slender arms looping around the djinn’s shoulders. Like his brother, he too was sweetly round of belly and wide of hip. He smelled faintly of sandalwood and jasmine, reminding Miloh of an enchanted evening in some fantastical place as the djinn leaned in close. 

“Oh, such lovely ears,” Bantur sighed. He caressed Miloh’s right ear with his clawed fingers, using the sharp nails to gently scratch the honey-gold fur. 

“Yes, so perfectly soft,” replied Sashur. He too, stroked at Miloh’s ear. 

Miloh trembled, unable to move as waves of tingling pleasure raced down his spine. Soft flesh buoyed him from either side as the pair pressed themselves into him. Black, shining lips smacked in his ears as Bantur nibbled his delicate lobe. Meanwhile, Sashur’s pink tongue had begun to trace the swirl of Miloh’s ear, carefully skirting around the opening to his ear canal. Nimble fingers cupped his chin, lifting his head so that black lips could find his supple throat. Miloh’s eyes closed, letting himself fall dreamily into that dark, swirling sea. Bantur sighed, a deep, low moan and slid his tongue slowly into Miloh’s ear. The wet crackle of saliva sent shivers down the djinn’s spine.

Warm, wet swirls circled his inner ear as Sashur’s full lips met his throat. 

“Ngh,” moaned Miloh. “Oh, t-that’s…”

“Heaven?” asked Bantur. He pulled his tongue from the djinn's ear. “Perfection?”

“I fear our dear guest is at a loss for words,” said Sashur. He kissed the djinn’s bare shoulder. 

Bantur’s fingers travelled down to spread over Miloh’s flat chest. “Let’s give him some new words then, brother.”

His nimble fingers danced down Miloh’s belly, the muscles clenching and jumping as he slipped below the waistband of the djinn’s shorts. This time, Miloh did not offer protest. Bantur licked his lips and wrapped his mouth around a caramel nipple, flicking his tongue over the rigid bud. Sashur chuckled and took the other nipple, gently circling the areola, in contrast to this brother’s aggressive pleasure. His hand slid into Miloh’s short’s dipping below the band of his underwear. Unaware, the djinn could only offer a small groan of ecstasy as he felt himself falling backwards. Miloh tumbled to the bed, the brothers still clamped to his chest like two lampreys. Their tails curled languidly in the air, writhing to the shrill piping of the flute music. Bantur’s hand moved, tugging down Miloh’s cut-offs until they were to the djinn’s knees. Not to be outdone, Sashur followed suit. He slid Miloh’s underwear down his shapely legs and together, the pair did remove the last remaining scraps of clothing from the moaning djinn’s golden body. 

“Oh, how exquisite,” remarked Bantur. He turned his gaze down Miloh’s trembling form. “The skin is so supple and such a lovely color. Tell me, do you tan?”

Miloh’s ears pricked up. “No, why?”

“It’s his natural color.” Sashur rose from Miloh’s heaving chest. “I told you he was perfect.”

“Oh absolutely,” Bantur crowed. “A most spectacular addition.” He rose from the bed to stand in the middle of the room. 

Sashur stood and joined his brother. Together, the pair linked arms, their bellies touching. Miloh noticed that Bantur also possessed a tattoo of a heart, this on his left hip. A perfect mirror in every way. The brothers met in a slow, passionate kiss that made the heat rise in Miloh’s cheeks. He longed to embrace those plush, dark lips again, to feel the rough warmth of that tongue in his mouth. 

“I say we get the festivities going,” Bantur laughed. He let go of Sashur and hooked his thumbs into his thong. 

“Absolutely, brother,” said Sashur and likewise took hold of his silken underwear. “Let us remove these restraints.”