	It was about halfway to the manor district when the extra weight of Josquin's cargo really began to wear on him. The rat was far from the paragon of physical fitness – he much preferred slinking and sneaking as opposed to hiking though the pitch-black catacombs of the undercity, especially with all this extra weight. He needed to make it all the way from the body of the fighting in Gallows Square to the Thousand Gardens district, where most of the city's upper-class lived. It was a trek that would take more than an hour above ground, and quite a bit longer below. But at least down here he didn't risk getting skewered by a guard's poleaxe or smashed to bits by a rioter's hooves. He adjusted the weight of the bundle in his arms. His cargo was worth the extra distance, even if she was a heavy thing.

	The rat casually dragged one hand along the wall as he walked, his cargo cradled in the crook of his other arm. He trusted his memory to lead him through the dank corridors until a crevice in the wall made him pause. That wasn't there before. He traced it with his finger, feeling it branch out into a small symbol – a sign from another cabalist. The symbol was a crude cross with a hooked arm pointing the direction he was headed. The symbol meant the route ahead was blocked and he'd have to find another way. He dropped his crossbow with a clatter and cursed loudly. Dead end?! He thought, But this is the door to the Stross Brothers' vault! An artery to the undercity! To have it closed off would mean . . .

	He didn't stick around to finish his thought. The vault was compromised, meaning he couldn't get into the old moneylender's place from below anymore. He had to go around. That meant a trip down through one of the old mine shafts. He gave the package in his arms another little jostle, as if to remind himself that it was still there. He was so proud of the little thing, being so quiet during such a stressful time.

	Back through the catacombs he went. There was a trapdoor not far from here, covered by a dusty cloth in some long-abandoned cellar. He whipped the cloth away and covered his long nose to shield himself from the dust. Down into the darkness he descended, carefully climbing the ladder one handed, wincing as the trapdoor slammed shut behind him.

	There was no light down here, no glints through the cracks in the walls, no warm, inviting sconces to guide the way. Long since abandoned by the surface-dwellers, the old mineshafts served as the undercity's highways, defended from intruders by strategic cave-ins and endless legions of walking dead under the heel of the Cabal. Josquin took a deep breath and smiled. He was close to home here. He loosened his grip on the twelve-pound bundle in his arms and began to relax, his eyes and ears quickly adjusting to the quiet gloom. He wanted nothing more than to linger here forever, to unwrap his little bundle and stay with her down here forever, disappearing from memory. But he pressed onwards – this little one was already promised to someone else. But there would be more like her, he reminded himself.

	Through the caverns the rat marched, following the remains of an old track before slipping off to the side and putting his hand on the rung of a ladder. If memory served, this would take him up to the  Lascoux wine cellar on the outskirts of the Thousand Gardens. From there, he could sneak into the cemetery and right up to the client's front door!

	The Cabal annexed the Lascoux cellar – and its contents – when the young heir to the Lascoux fortune fell behind on 'protection payments'. In addition to a wine collection easily worth its weight in gold, the cellar now served as a lane under the noble Thousand Gardens district, providing the Cabal easy access to the majority of the city's wealth if one knew how to get through. Josquin found the passage easily enough, twisting the bottle of Val d'Ardennes to the left and listening as the secret door unlocked with a muffled click-thunk. He gave the bundle a kiss and slipped into the secret passage, pushing the door shut behind him.

	Immediately, Josquin had to stifle a cough. The air here was stale and dry, and even the lightest footstep threw clouds of cloying dust into the air. He was thankful he'd bundled his little package up from head to hoof, otherwise her fur would be grey with soot and particulate by the time it arrived at its destination. He paused to pull out another tindertwig, striking it against the stone and wincing as the white flash momentarily blinded him. If memory served, there should be a sconce on the wall right over . . . here.

	An unsteady orange glow hesitantly warmed the passage. Cold stone canine faces stared down from either side, each guarding over a small urn – the remnants of the once-mighty Caniche line, a canine dynasty that controlled several southbound trading routes. As far as the citizens were concerned the Caniche family still owned and maintained those routes, but in truth, the Caniche line was cut short when their manor burned to the ground almost ten years ago. The Cabal quickly arranged for a few 'survivors' to miraculously emerge from the rubble and the line carried on seemingly unbroken, fully under the Cabals' command. In a generation or two not even the faux-Caniches themselves would know the difference.

	Down the passage Josquin went, eyes focused on the stone door at the end. He wasn't worried about the lit torch behind him, it would burn itself out long before anyone followed in his footsteps. He pushed the door open with his shoulder and then spun around to push it closed behind him. From the outside, it simply looked like a large, upright statue of a canine in a coffin, supposedly the Caniche patriarch. It wasn't terribly original, having a secret passage in a crypt behind a tombstone, but it got the job done, funnelling cabalists and cargo from the manors of the nobles to the central markets and back again in perfect secrecy.

	The manor wasn't far. This was as close as the cabal's network could get him, the rest of the way would have to be made on foot. He crouched low against the outer wall of the crypt, adjusting the swaddling around the package to reveal a serene, peaceful face. She looked like she was fast asleep even though her body was almost cold. You're my ticket through here, he reminded the dead equine in his arms, no one would dare wake a sleeping filly.

	Through the silent graves he marched, passing elaborate mausoleums and looming memorial statues. The sun was just beginning to set, bathing the cemetery in an eerie crimson light. There was hardly a soul about, even after the rat left the graveyard behind him and began strolling down the manicured cobblestone streets. It was only then that he realized he had no idea what he was looking for. He knew who was supposed to receive the package, he even knew what door of the mansion to use once he got there. But as to what mansion is was, he had no idea. He needed help. But where could he find it at this hour of night without arousing suspicion?

	Josquin wandered for a minute or two, wandering amidst the tombstones when a high-pitched laugh caught his attention. It was too shrill to belong to an adult, he thought. He found the source not too far away, a young fawn peeking around the edge of one of the larger tombstones, apparently hiding from his friends. The rat crept up behind him and cleared his throat, sending the young buck nearly a foot in the air.
	
	“You're not supposed to be out this late, are you?” he accused the cowering fawn.

	“uh-” the cervine stammered, backing up against the tombstone, “I-I was just heading inside!”

	Josquin leaned closer. “I know where you live,” he lied, “And I could go right up to your door and tell your parents you've been playing in the graveyard after dark.”

	“Noooo!” the fawn protested, stomping his hoof, “I'll get in trouble! You can't tell them, you can't! Please!”

	Josquin put a finger to his lips and pointed to the bundle in his arms. “Shh,” he commanded, “Or someone else will have a tantrum, too.” The fawn stomped his hoof again and crossed his arms, but remained silent. “I won't tell your parents if you tell me where the Taggerung family lives. I have a very important message for them and I don't know where to deliver it.”

	The fawn perked up instantly, obviously delighted at escaping punishment in exchange for such a simple task. “Oh, uh, over behind the dog statues,” he replied quickly. Josquin turned and squinted, trying to see them through the darkness. 

	“You sure?” he challenged, raising an eyebrow. “If I end up going to the wrong house-”

	“It's there!” the fawn insisted, “Promise!”

	Josquin stared him down, trying to look like he was deciding whether the little buck was telling the truth or not. He eventually relented, nodding his head slowly and taking a step back. “Don't stay out too late,” he warned with a wry smile, “It's not safe with the riots lately. Wouldn't want you to get hurt.”

***

	“I'm looking for Taggerung,” the rat replied meekly from the bottom of the stairs. The black feline servant twitched his whiskers and tilted his head. “The Baronet?” he asked, thinking for sure the messenger had the wrong address before his ears perked in recognition. “Oh, you mean Akela!” He beamed. “Apologies, sirrah, we're not used to hearing the master of the house referred to by last name. That was always his father's title.”

	“Yes, yes,” Josquin prodded, putting the pieces together, “Akela Taggerung, son of the Baronet. I have an urgent message for him.”

	“Spill it, then.” he doorman insisted.

	“It's, uh, personal. His eyes only.”

	The doorman looked the scruffy rat up and down with a critical eye before shrugging his shoulders and giving a wry smirk, one feline fang gleaming in the evening light. “I suppose there's no accounting for the master's taste sometimes,” He sighed, stepping aside.

	Josquin blustered. “No, it's not that!”

	“Of course not, sirrah,” the feline grinned, rolling his eyes.

	“I don't- I'm just here to give him a package!”

	“A 'package', sirrah? Let me guess, you want to 'deliver' it in private?”

	“Yes! I mean, no! I mean-”

	“There's no shame in saying it, sirrah,” the doorman replied, straining to maintain a sense of professionalism, “It's not like you're the only boy-whore to-”

	“Brycen!” came a sharp bark from out of sight. “Bryce, it's your turn. Kormus played a pair of drakes and Aileen folded; get back in there an ante up!”

	Josquin watched with no small sense of relief as the doorman was roughly pulled aside by an ear and replaced by a much taller canine.

	“I must apologize,” The canine sighed before the rat could open his mouth in protest, “My servant appears to have dipped into the mead a little early tonight. Akela Taggerung, at your service.” The canine rolled his hand and nodded in a courtly greeting. Josquin narrowed his eyes and sized him up without returning the gesture. The finely embroidered garments he wore did little to hide his admirable physique: His shoulders were broad, his chest was held high, and his muzzle was strongly-defined and coated in glossy blue-grey fur. There wasn't a single thread or hair out of place. 

	Akela sized up his guest in turn. He was scrawny, slinky, and disheveled. He was needlessly armed, the canine noted, seeing the light crossbow slung over his back and the small blade glimmering at his hip. His posture was unbalanced and apprehensive, like he might bolt at any moment.

	“I have something for you,” the rat interrupted. Even his voice sounded nervous and unsteady.

	Akela couldn't stop his tail from wagging. “Go on,” he insisted. He had his suspicions, but he wanted to know for sure: was this really the package he'd been waiting for?

	Josquin bent down out of sight and retrieved something from the bushes, a package the size of a small feral dog cocooned in fabric. Akela's tail wagged harder, his hips beginning to sway a little. Carefully, the rat began to unravel a strip of cloth from what Akela could only assume was the 'bottom' of the package and revealed a small brown hoof attacked to a long, golden leg.

	“At least twelve pounds,” the rat explained, “And perfectly ripe, even if it was plucked from the vine a little early.”

	Akela's tail whipped back and forth so fast that his servants in the other room probably felt the draft. “A-a little early?” he quivered, “Get in here.” He ushered his guest inside quickly, looking around and shutting the door behind him. “Bryce!” He called, “Put my winnings back into the pot, I'm out!”

	There was a chorus of immediate replies followed by the telltale clink of coin from the other room. “Not that there was much to put back,” one female voice mocked. 

	“Doesn't matter,” chirped another, “It's all mine next round!”

	“Saw that coming,” cackled Brycen. “Have fun, you two!”

	Josquin turned his back on the chatter, hiding the bundle with his body. You were already on my list, he fumed to himself, Now you're at the top with a star by your name.
	
	“In here,” Akela interrupted, steering the rat into the study. Josquin cringed, pulling the hand off him and walking faster. He hated being touched. He entered the study and quickly turned around, instinctively stepping behind one of the many leather chairs that ornamented the room while holding the bundle tight against his chest. Akela closed the door behind him and locked it. Immediately, Josquin began planning an escape. There was an open window to his right, if he threw the package as a distraction – no, he couldn't do that. He wouldn't. The package was not some 'distraction' and he'd never forgive himself for using it as such. But there was still an onyx shard under its tongue. If he could somehow scrounge up a few seconds of time . . .

	“Calm down,” Akela chuckled, once again interrupting the rat's thoughts, “You look like you're about to jump out of your fur.”

	“I might,” Josquin muttered quietly. “Why am I still here?”

	“I still need to pay you,” Akela flatly reminded him.

	“How?” Josquin asked quickly. He wanted to remind him that his 'payment' was going to involve more gold than either one of them could possibly carry, but he didn't feel safe negotiating. Not without some serious muscle to back him up. The package in his arms unfortunately didn't qualify.

	“Well,” Akela explained, taking a seat on the far chair a safe distance away, “First I'll need to inspect the goods. If everything is in order, then I'll send you off with details on how the big bosses will get their gold.”

	Josquin listened, unmoving. It seemed fair, but he was dreading what would happen if there was some fault with the merchandise, even after taking the most meticulous care with it.

	“And,” Akela continued, “there's something in it for you, of course. Father always taught me to tip the runners well – it keeps packages from getting 'lost' along the way.”

	“Smart man,” Josquin muttered. 

	Akela grinned. “He likes to think so. Now bring that little bundle over here, would you? I'm eager to get to know the new arrival.” He patted his lap in anticipation. Josquin hesitated before walking slowly around the arm of the chair, each step planned and perfectly placed, like a ringbearer – or perhaps more accurately, pallbearer. Akela snatched it up as soon as he could, unfolding layer after layer of swaddling before he finally laid eyes on the newborn's face.

	“Stars above, what a little heartbreaker,” the canine cooed, running a digit over her velvet nose and down her golden-furred cheek. “Still warm, even!”

	“Just beginning to cool down,” Josquin elaborated, stepping back to give himself some space, “I wanted her to still be soft when she got here.”

	Akela grinned. “So it's a she, is it? Does she have a name?”

	Josquin silently cursed himself for spilling the beans early. “Not yet,” he replied, “But she's yours now. You can call her what you like.”

	Akela waved a hand to dismiss the thought. “Later,” he snorted, running a hand through the foal's short mane and tilting her head to the side. “So soft,” he mumbled, “her ears are perfect.” He continued fondling the foal's face, pushing a finger into her mouth and swirling it around. “Almost bone-dry,” he noted, “You really took you time with her.”

	“I was thorough,” Josquin replied curtly.

	The canine wasn't listening for an answer. He was too busy unwrapping his gift, drawing a line down her torso down to her umbilical cord. “Still intact . . .” he marvelled, winding the flaccid flesh-rope between his fingers.

	“As I said,” Josquin explained, “I plucked her a little early and decided to leave the stem on. Do you like it?”

	Akela nodded, still only half listening. “Love it,” he answered, not even looking up. He lifted up one of the foal's arms, examining the crevices for any trace of slime or filth and finding nothing. He let the arm drop over her chest limply, imagining those half-curled fingers clutching at a heart that only just stopped beating. But all this was just a prelude to the foal's most appealing feature. He unwrapped the cloth on his gift completely, revealing the filly in all her nude, newborn innocence. He bent one of her long, slender legs and pulled it aside, running his other hand towards the spot where her pale fur shortened away to nothing. Between those lean thighs was a pair of bare lips, blushing blue and slightly engorged from the flood of prenatal hormones.

	“Did you . . .” he asked, prying the filly's lower lips apart and spying a pallid barrier less than a finger's-width in. “You did! You left her entirely intact!”

	“Pristine condition, as ordered,” the rat nodded, “There's also a little something I put there to keep her from stiffening up. She'll be soft and limp for weeks at least.”

	“That's dedication,” Akela beamed, folding the outstretched leg back across and grabbing both hooves with one hand, lifting up her bottom like he was about to change her diaper. Her perfect little tail-pucker was clean as a whistle, another sign of the rat's attention to detail. He tickled it with a finger and pushed a digit inside, half-expecting the foal to clench down and spring to life.. But she remained slack and silent.

	“She's perfect,” Akela stated plainly, finally looking up, “everything I wanted and then some.” He turned the foal around on his lap and spread her legs wide, pulling her hooves up almost behind her head and letting her lower lips sit slack, just barely open. Josquin raised an eyebrow.

	“Something the matter?” the rat asked, his tail swishing against the chair.

	Akela shook his head. “No, no,” he replied, “I was just thinking that since you took such care leaving her intact, that you should be the one to try her out for the first time.”

	“Do you think I booby-trapped her or something?” Josquin accused. Akela shook his head again. “She's just got such a pretty pussy and I'd hate to see it go to waste is all. Aren't you the slightest bit interested? 
	“Aren't you?” Josquin countered, puzzled. “She's yours, don't you want her?”

	“I don't plan on using that part of her anyways,” Akela replied, licking his lips, “I'd have been just as happy with a little colt. But I love the surprise of getting one fresh from the vine. Now just how long are you going to keep this sweet girl waiting? She's not getting any younger, you know!”


	Josquin fidgeted. He wasn't used to this sort of pressure at all. 

	“C'mon,” Akela insisted, sensing his hesitation, “Call it a bonus for a job well done. You deserve it!” Finally the rat stepped closer. Perhaps rats were easier to catch with honey, as the saying went. “See how eager she is, just waiting for the embrace of the one who rescued her from that awful, dark, stifling place? I bet she's been begging for it ever since you laid hands on her.”

	The canine's voice was almost hypnotizing. No wonder the people loved him, Josquin thought, his natural charisma combined with a real talent for oration made him insidiously likable – an affection that snuck up like a venomous snake, laying low before it struck without warning. He could be a powerful ally.

	“You might be right,” conceded Josquin, stepping closer and reaching down to pet the filly's cheek with the back of his hand, “the least I could do is leave her a little parting gift.”

	Akela smiled. “That's the spirit,” he agreed, “Why don't you have a seat and let the little filly show her thanks?” He lifted the baby foal up into his arms, patting the now unoccupied chair. Josquin unclipped his breeches but kept his tunic on and slunk into the chair, almost sinking into the plush fabric. Akela dangled the foal's naked body above him, holding her under the arms and lowering her down to rub her groin against his guest's exposed member. It was smaller than his own by a wide margin, but given the rat's diminutive stature it wasn't altogether unusual. Akela was sure that among the rat's own kind, his anatomy was perfectly respectable. For an equine, however . . . Akela merely smiled, thinking the two were perfect for each other. 

	“That's right,” Akela cooed, “Just let her do all the work. Feel those soft lips kissing your flesh, grinding, pleading to feel her saviour between her legs for the first and last time. . .” She didn't have to plead for long. Something about the way the foal's head fell slack against her chest whenever she rocked back and forth had his anatomy standing tall after only a few moments of encouragement. “She's looking at it,” the canine continued, “Staring longingly, just begging to have it inside her . . . won't you give her what she wants?”

	Josquin was in no place to resist. He only nodded, reaching to grab the filly's legs to yank her down onto his lap. There was an initial resistance as those tender lips stretched around his tip, but a bit of jostling from the canine holding her other end had her sinking down on the rat's manhood in no time, the organ tearing through her newborn hymen and plunging deep inside her cooling body. There was no cry of surprise as she was penetrated for the first time, no clenching of fists or teeth as her body was brutally reamed by her own murderer. But even without resisting she was still painfully tight; Josquin could feel his member scraping against her virgin walls, stretching the tender skin taut. There was no way she'd be able to take him this deep if she was still kicking and screaming.

	“She loves it!” Akela exclaimed, grabbing the newborn foal firmly under the arms and bobbing her up and down, feeling the resistance of the rat's tapered cock stretching her wider and wider. All the rat had to do was sit back and imagine the filly was doing all the work, not a hard feat with Akela whispering tantalizingly into his ear. 

	Josquin dug his fingers into the sides of the chair and shut his eyes tightly. He was not used to this at all – never before had he been ridden by anyone with such vigour! Normally it was him on top of someone unmoving and stiff, or on occasion a shambling carcass clumsily commanded to pleasure him in some rudimentary fashion. He opened one eye and saw Akela looming over him, holding the little foal and jerking her up and down with both hands. Her limbs dangled and her head bounced, unsupported by limp and undeveloped muscles. It was like nothing he'd ever experienced – at this rate he wouldn't last long at all!

	“Ohh, almost there!” Akela encouraged, seeing his guest's face contort in anticipation of climax, “Give it to her! Paste her icy cunt with your seed!” He slammed her down a few more times and then held her in place, watching with glee as his guest squirmed and contorted under her, finally opening his mouth in a silent scream as he came inside the newborn's body. Akela almost wasn't sure he'd finished at all, but the way he arched his back and then sank into the chair again left no doubts. With the company he kept, Akela reasoned, he probably never needed to worry about putting on a big loud show when he finished.

	Both males let out a sigh of relief, and Akela let go of the foal, letting her slump against Josquin's chest. “Looks like you tuckered her out,” the canine grinned, “She's exhausted.”

	Josquin offered a half-grin in return. “Guess it's time to put her to bed, hmm?” he offered, running his hand through her short mane. 

	“Indeed,” Akela replied, grabbing the foal again and slowly lifting her off with a squelch as cum drooled from between her legs, the whitish strands streaked with red. “Would you like to join us?”

	Josquin paused. “. . .What?”

	“I asked if you wanted to join us upstairs,” Akela repeated, cradling the foal in his arms, “She's clearly taken a liking to you, and seeing her mount you like that was-”

	Josquin visibly shuddered. He was so caught up in the moment that he almost forgot there was someone other than himself pulling the strings. “I . . . can't,” he replied, fumbling with his sticky pants as he tried to find a reason to opt out that wouldn't upset the noble's son.

	“Why not?” Akela whined, dropping his ears in mock disappointment. It was difficult to tell whether he was actually asking or just teasing.

	Because I don't like anything with a heartbeat, Josquin thought. “I, uh, wouldn't want to intrude!” he replied instead, fidgeting in his seat.

	“You wouldn't be intruding, silly rat, you've been invited! Both of us would love to see you get more invol-”

	“Stop!” Josquin hissed, quickly losing patience. The extra 'payment' was nice but the rat was quickly beginning to return to his senses. He wasn't in control here and he didn't like it one bit. “The answer is no!”

	“Okay, okay,” Akela relented, “have it your way, spoilsport. Let's get you paid and on your way then, shall we?”

	Josquin nodded, watching the canine very carefully as he turned his back and gently laid the foal's body on a large set of scales, curling her legs up to her chest in a fetal position so she'd actually fit. 

	“How much did you say she was?” He asked, fiddling with a metal safe under the desk, “twelve pounds? Thirteen?”

	“Around there,” the rat offered with a shrug, patting down his tunic. His eyes widened as Akela pulled several large golden ingots out from the safe, placing them on the scales opposite the package until she slowly began to lift. When the scales tipped, he started using gold sovereigns instead, stacking the coins up in a small pile until the two sides balanced. 

	“Thirteen pounds, seven ounces,” he announced, pushing the precious metal into the same swaddling the foal came in. “This belongs to you,” he announced, placing it on the desk within easy reach, “for excellent service, impeccable taste and all-around good company. This . . .” He continued, reaching into his desk, “is the rest of the payment.” He produced a small cylindrical case with a sliding lock on one side. “Instructions to a dead drop far out of sight, the location also being part of the payment.” Josquin reached for it, but Akela snatched it away. “It's coded and protected by an acid lock. If you try and open it without the right combination you'll break the vial inside and dissolve the map entirely. Once it's in the right hands I'll send them the code – not before!” He handed it over gently and reached into a hidden pocket in his vest. Josquin got ready to bolt, but relaxed when he pulled out a small brass key. “Here's the key,” he explained, tossing it over, “But again, without the map you'll never know what it unlocks. Now,” he smiled, “off you go, unless you've reconsidered some time with me and the item over there.”

	Josquin nodded his head. “I'll take my leave,” he announced, dangling the key off one hooked finger and slinging the bag of gold over his shoulder, “I . . . wouldn't mind stopping by again,” Josquin said hesitantly, already halfway out the door. “I-i mean, if you need anything else delivered.”

	Akela beamed. How cute, he thought, he was trying to say thank-you. “You do good work,” he replied, “Worth every sovereign. I'm sure we'll see each other again.” Josquin had slipped out the door mid-sentence and was out of sight by the time he finished talking. He shook his head, still smiling.

	“I guess it's you and me now, sweetie-pie,” he cooed, talking to the curled-up corpse still sitting on the scale, “Now that you've had a good stretch, it's time to come up to daddy's room!” He grabbed the filly by her legs and swung her up into the crook of his arm, making note of the small pool of rat-cum that had leaked out from between her legs and onto the desk. He'd get one of the servants to clean it up, he had much more pressing matters to attend to at the moment!

	Akela slipped past the game room, half-listening to the laughter and clinking of coin from inside. It sounded like Aileen was on a winning streak. She wasn't the only one getting lucky tonight, Akela thought to himself as he headed up the stairs to his private chambers.

	There were many bedrooms in the manor – most of them small dormitory-style quarters allotted to servants and staff. Akela himself had multiple bedrooms – One in the northern wing of the manor where he lived as a boy, and then the one he claimed when he moved permanently into the southern wing last year. It was his own private space, as far away from his cloying family as could reasonably be expected, with a staff hand-picked by Akela himself. He needed to know they would give him his privacy, especially on a night like tonight.

	“We're gonna have so much fun, my little cumslut,” he cooed, giving the bundle in his arms a saliva-filled kiss on the lips, making them sparkle like dew on the grass. He left the study and quickly ascended the stairs to his room, double-checking to make sure that yes, all the servants were well-occupied around the table downstairs. He slipped into his room and locked the door, breathing a sigh of relief as he leaned against the sturdy wood. He was alone. 

	He tossed the naked newborn foal on the bed and watched it tumble limply onto its side, the flaccid umbilical cord trailing from her midsection. He quickly disrobed and followed his prize, crawling onto the bed on all fours like a feral beast. “Frisky little baby-whore,” he growled, yanking her long legs and dragging her towards him for another slobbery kiss. He grabbed her by the mane and forced his long tongue into her mouth and down her throat, lapping at the roof of her mouth and the base of her tongue. “Can't wait to see what your mouth can do,” he growled amorously, letting go of her mane and watching her head bounce off the bed again.

	“C'mere you sexy little ragdoll,” Akela teased, pulling the little body roughly into a position on her back with her head hanging off the edge of the bed, her mouth almost perfectly aligned with his thick, nine-inch cock. “This is the closest you're gonna get to a stallion, sweetie,” he cooed, “Now open wide.” He pinched her cheeks and forced her mouth open, letting the tip of his dick just barely touch the edges of her lips before he rolled his hips forward and slipped inside.

	If there was a heaven, Akela thought, this was it. Her mouth was wet and still warm from his intimate little kisses on the way up, and he could slip right down her throat with no problems. He could even watch her throat bulge out with each thrust of his hips.

	“No gag reflex,” Akela marvelled, as if he expected otherwise, “you really WERE born for this!” He pushed himself so far inside her muzzle he could feel her cold nose pushing against his nutsack. He hilted himself a few more times and then stopped, taking a deep breath and slowly removing the filly from his member, taking no small pleasure in the small gurgle she made when he dredged up the precum, saliva and residual gunk from deep in her throat.

	“Aww, what'sa matter?” The canine pouted, brushing her cheek with his thumb, “You want more?  Not to worry, I gotcha . . .” He lifted the filly up by her neck and flung her forwards and away from him so that she was face-down on the bed, her head towards the headboard and her hooves towards her new daddy. “Now spread those cheeks, let's see how clean that rat really made ya . . .”

	True to Josquin's word, the stillborn filly's little puckered hole was spotless – a little bulb of hairless flesh between her pert little buttcheeks. “Oh, honey” Akela moaned, licking his lips and pushing his nose right up under her tail, dragging his tongue across the sensitive flesh. There was no clenching, no fidgeting, no reaction of any kind. The taste was clean and slightly tangy, with a stronger, more pungent flavour the deeper his tongue pushed inside her anus. “Just hold still,” he teased, “I want you nice and slippery for the next part!” Akela took his time, lapping under her tail and writing his name over and over again with his tongue. He was in heaven, and had no trouble staying hard and ready whenever he wanted to move on. 

	He finally lifted his head after several minutes, smacking his chops again and spreading her thighs with his thumbs while he loomed over her tiny body. He smiled, noting how her little equine pussy had gone slack, leaving a nice gape for Josquin's seed to dribble out of. He'd really gone deep – it would take another thorough bath for him to get all that out. But that was something he could deal with later – upkeep and maintenance of this new toy was the last thing on his mind right now. 
	
	Slowly, he pressed the tapered tip of his member under her tail, feeling her nubile body accommodate him as best as it could. Her tiny little muscles were slack, and skin under her tail stretched pleasingly around his girth. At least she still had some elasticity left, even if her insides were lukewarm by now.  Akela grunted and grabbed the filly's hips, pulling her further onto his cock with enough force to make any girl scream – any girl except this one. She didn't make a peep.

	Cool fluid lubricated the canine's member – stale, stagnant blood forced up and out by his brutal  entry. Akela could feel it sticking, rubbing, running down his shaft and matting their fur. “Such a good little cunt,” he growled, “Don't you dare make a sound!” He released her left hip and roughly cupped his palm around her mouth and nose, his claws digging into her fragile muzzle and wrenching her head roughly backwards. If she still needed to breathe, the poor girl would have started to suffocate. “Take it all you filthy stillborn slut!” he barked, twisting her muzzle and grinding her into the mattress with each brutal slam of his hips. He could feel his balls slapping against her rump with every brutal stroke, and he could feel the fragile skin inside her beginning to tear, her tiny body unable to take the canine's prodigious girth. But Akela didn't care. She was performing exactly as she was supposed to, doing exactly what she was born to do. His only regret was not being able to kill her a second time.

	Akela could feel the base of his cock swelling, each push past her pucker was more and more difficult. At the rate he was going, he'd have moments at best before pushing in or pulling out would be impossible. He slam-fucked her for a few more seconds, pulling all the way out before plunging back in as far as he could until his swelling bulb catch on her labia from inside. He was stuck, and there was nowhere to go but further in. He was going to knot this little filly hard, there were no two ways about it. “F-ffuck!” Akela howled, driving his hips down so far he heard the frame of the bed groan underneath him. The little filly's body shuddered with every throb of his knot, her insides quickly filling to bursting  from his potent seed. He quickly collapsed on top of his prize, tied and spent. That orgasm was so intense he felt like he might pass out.

	“Still with me, cumdump?” he asked his non-responsive partner, giving the filly a firm tap on the cheek with the back of his hand, then a rough slap when there was no answer forthcoming. He loved it – finally, a toy that wouldn't cry out and threaten to tell his father if he mistreated her, a toy that wouldn't run or hide or put up a fight. She was perfect.

	Akela stretched and leaned back, dragging the limp filly's body with him. He was really stuck – it felt like there was no way to pull out without ripping her in half. He wouldn't be surprised if the tip of his dick was mashed somewhere in her intestines. He pried one of the filly's asscheeks away, spying a tiny rivulet of white-streaked blood leaking out of her tightly-filled hole. He definitely did some damage, he noted with a smile, and now he was stuck for a good while until his his knot stopped swelling. It was a wonder he didn't rip her in half already, he thought, maybe whatever the rat did to keep her soft and loose made her more durable as well.

	He ran his hands over the filly's back, wrapping his fingers around her ribcage and fondling her flat chest roughly. He could pass the time exploring every inch of her tiny body . . . but that could also wait until he was properly untied. For now, he knew just who else would appreciate the new arrival! He turned back to the door, put his fingers to his muzzle and whistled.

	The response was immediate. There was a skittering of thick claws on hardwood from below followed by a thundering gallop up the stairs outside. Akela gave his dead lover a pat on the head and by the time he turned around the door to his room was opened and darkened by a four-legged silhouette   around waist-height.

	“Rikken!” Akela beamed, and the hound bounded into the room and onto the bed at his master's command, slathering his face in amorous tongue-kisses, eagerly reciprocated. Rikken was Akela's lifelong four-legged friend, a gift from his father's side of the family shortly after Akela was born. He was large, probably equal in weight to Akela himself, and covered in sleek dark fur with rust-coloured stripes. His unique colouration and unusual longevity led to much speculation about his breeding. Some said that he was magebred, his entire litter exposed to strange arcane power before they were born, others thought that he descended from the stock of a legendary shadow mastiff. Akela and his father carefully did their part to neither confirm nor deny these rumours, leaving the common folk to ponder over Rikken's mysterious origins as long as they liked. He often wondered how many conversations his friend had sparked simply by existing.

	Akela beamed as he imagined the reactions of his servants downstairs. A secret tryst with a grimy rat-kin and now he was bringing the dog? When would it stop? He could see Brycen's disapproval in his mind's eye, and he laughed. He wasn't worried about them. He paid them more than enough for their silence – putting his winnings back in the pot for tonights game in exchange for a night alone was practically routine by now.

	“Who's my good boy?” he soothed, running his hands along the hound's face, “Huh? Who's a good boy? Wanna try out a new toy? Do ya? Huh?”

	Rikken bayed excitedly, sniffing all around the room and paying particular attention to the new arrival. It probably smelled like rat, Akela mused.

	“Like the new toy, boy? Do ya? You wanna play with it? I bet you do!” He bent the filly's back so that her limp head faced the feral canine. Rikken sniffed her, licked her cold nose and let out a yip of approval.

	“Thought so, boy! Who wouldn't want a piece of this, right?” He pushed the foal's cheeks together to open her mough just far enough for Rikken's tongue to push inside. “Careful, there,” Akela warned, pulling the foal's nose away, “You're gonna make me jealous!”

	Akela rose to his knees, still tied with the stillborn filly, and shuffled over to the edge of the bed so the foal's head once again dangled off the edge. “C'mere, boy,” he beckoned, letting the large feral beast jump up and put his front paws on his master's shoulders. Akela ran his hands eagerly under the beast's stomach, running his claws through the thick fur and seeking out that thick tube of flesh between his thighs, right above those low-hanging balls. He ran his hands up and down the beast's sheath, eagerly teasing out the bright red member inside. He'd done it so many times it almost seemed too easy. “She wants your knot, Rikken,” Akela encouraged, “She wants it bad!” He forcefully opened the filly's mouth again, trying to catch Rikken's sheath between her soft lips before letting go. The dog took the bait and bucked forward, pushing his growing feral member relentlessly down the filly's throat. Akela gasped lust at how fast and brutal he was – far less forgiving than he was with her only minutes before. His speed and ferocity was incredible, and Akela watched with lewd, wide-eyed fascination as his enormous member stretched her neck. Again, the filly proved she really was born for the cock!

	“What a good boy you are!” he praised again, letting go of the filly and grabbing his dog under his forelegs so the three of them formed the shape of an “A” on the bed – Akela on his knees, still tied to the face-down filly's tailhole and amorously making out with the feral canine leaning on his shoulders, his own feral member ramming down the filly's throat much deeper than Akela's ever could, folding the equine toy up between the two of them. “You gonna cum for me, boy?” he teased between deep kisses, rocking his own hips back and forth again inside the filly's asshole. She was still so tight and his own knot had barely subsided, he could feel that delicious squeezing pressure on all sides, amplified by Rikken's pounding on the other end. It didn't take much to get him going again until the two of them were pounding the poor thing in tandem. 

	“You gonna cum, boy?” Akela repeated, seeing Rikken's knot start to swell, forcing the foal's jaws wider and wider. “Yes you are! Knot her mouth, boy! Shove that dogmeat right down her throat!” He gripped the foal's neck, feeling Rikken's member bulge underneath the soft-furred flesh. He made sure to hold it still so when that knot started to swell it trapped him behind her jaw, locking the knot in place. Rikken whined and thrust harder, quickly spraying his load of doggy seed deep down the filly's throat. Akela heard the poor foal's jaw groan and creak under the strain. He held her head tight, wrapping both hands around the fragile muzzle that cradled and squeezed his pet's fist-sized knot. He was teetering on the edge himself, just a few more heavy thrusts and some more sloppy beast-kisses was all it took to push him over. He could feel the pressure build and in less than a moment his second load of the evening was squeezing out rope by rope into the filly's tiny little body.

	Akela collapsed as soon as he felt himself spent, smothering the foal beneath him. She was cool to the touch. Rikken leaned down and tried to hop up onto the bed, his progress halted by the mouth of the foal still stuck around his swollen knot. Akela adjusted himself, trying to turn the filly so there was room for the three of them on the bed.

	Akela retired early that night, returning to the card table downstairs only to collect a few personal effects and bid his staff goodnight, reminding them of his appointment down at the stables the next morning. There was a magebred mare he'd had his eye on for weeks and he needed to make sure it was still up for sale. Other than that, the day was free – which meant as much fun with his new arrival as he could stand. He slept soundly that night, sandwiched between his enormous hound and the little dead filly tucked tightly in his arms like a stuffed animal. Worth every copper, he thought to himself.
