The air was thick with the scent of pine and earth, a crispness that hinted at the encroaching winter. Tanner Young leaned against his weathered wooden fence, watching the sunset paint the sky in hues of orange and purple. His farm, secluded and peaceful, had always been his sanctuary until today. Today, it felt like the walls were closing in on him. Earlier that morning, he had stumbled upon an old newspaper clipping tucked away in a local history book. It spoke of a cult that once thrived in the nearby woods, a cult that believed children were gifts from God meant to satisfy men's desires. The article chilled him to the bone, but what sent a shiver down his spine was the note at the end: "Presumed active as of recent." Tanner couldn't shake the feeling that something dark was lurking just beyond his quiet life. Determined to uncover the truth, he decided to take matters into his own hands. After hours of surveillance and careful planning, he finally identified their leader—a man known only as Deacon. As the moon rose, casting long shadows across the landscape, Tanner followed Deacon to a secluded spot. With a swift motion, he knocked the unsuspecting man out and dragged him back to his farmhouse. Deacon woke up sprawled on Tanner's worn leather couch, his hands bound tightly behind his back. Panic etched across his face as he struggled against his restraints. "Welcome to my humble abode," Tanner said, his voice cold and menacing. He loomed over Deacon, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and disgust. "So, you're the one who thinks hurting kids is okay?" Deacon stammered, trying to form words, but Tanner cut him off. "Shut up. I don't want to hear your excuses." Tanner paced around the room, his boots thudding heavily on the hardwood floor. "I've been thinking about this all day. About how to make you understand the pain you've caused. And then it hit me. If you enjoy inflicting pain so much, maybe you should feel it too." With those words, Tanner closed his eyes and focused. His body began to ripple and shift, bones cracking and reforming. When he opened his eyes again, they glowed with an otherworldly light. Where once stood a man, now stood a massive Friesian stallion, his coat sleek and black, muscles bulging with raw power. Deacon's eyes widened in terror as he took in the transformation. "What the hell are you?" he gasped, his voice trembling. Tanner, now fully shifted, snorted, the sound deep and guttural. "I'm your worst nightmare," he replied, his equine mouth barely able to form the words. He stepped closer, towering over the cowering man. "Let's see how you like it when the tables are turned." Deacon's gaze dropped to the massive equine penis that now swung between Tanner's powerful legs. His face paled, and he started to plead, his words tumbling over each other in desperation. "Please, no! I swear, I'll stop! Just let me go!" Tanner lowered his head, his breath hot against Deacon's face. "Is that what your victims said too? Did you listen then?" He nudged Deacon roughly with his muzzle, pushing him back onto the couch. "No, I don't think you did." With a fierce determination, Tanner positioned himself above Deacon. The cult leader's eyes were filled with a mixture of fear and resignation as he realized there would be no escape. Tanner's massive member pressed against Deacon's entrance, the tip slick with pre-cum. "This is for every child you've hurt," Tanner growled, his voice a strange blend of human and equine. He thrust forward, forcing his way inside Deacon with brutal force. Deacon screamed, the sound echoing off the walls of the small room. Tanner ignored his cries, focusing instead on the sensation of being inside another human, the tightness gripping him, the heat enveloping him. It was both painful and pleasurable, a twisted reflection of the suffering he sought to inflict. As Tanner began to move, each stroke harder and deeper than the last, Deacon's screams turned to moans of agony. Tanner, lost in the primal rhythm, could feel his own pleasure building, the animal within him reveling in the dominance and control. "You like that, don't you?" Tanner taunted, his movements growing more erratic. "Feel the pain you've caused? Feel it deep inside where it hurts the most?" Deacon didn't answer, his body writhing beneath Tanner's relentless assault. Tanner rode him harder, faster, his breaths coming in heavy gasps. The room filled with the sounds of flesh meeting flesh, of desperate pleas and bestial grunts. Just as Tanner felt the climax approaching, he paused, his massive form hovering above Deacon. Their eyes met, and for a moment, Tanner saw not just fear, but realization in the cult leader's gaze. This was the moment of truth, the point of no return. "This ends now," Tanner declared, his voice firm and final. With one last powerful thrust, he released, filling Deacon with his seed. The act was both a punishment and a warning, a demonstration of the power he held over those who dared to harm the innocent. As Tanner pulled away, his equine form shimmered and shifted back to human. He stood over Deacon, watching as the man lay gasping for air, his body marked by the rough encounter. "Consider this a taste of your own medicine," Tanner said, his voice cold as he tied Deacon's hands even tighter. "Now, tell me everything."