The Stampede
Part 2


Written by Septia.


We had been travelling for a while now. They had chatted amongst themselves, though it all, mixed together in a droning murmur, even when I tried to understand them. Why had four of them come? To pick me up? Why the blindfold, did they expect resistance? What would have happened if I did resit, if I had changed my mind? My knees were pushed together by the girth of the thighs on either side of me, smushing me together, I hadn't even gotten a good look at them, I didn't even… I didn't know who these people were they might all be crazy, the videos may be less staged then they appeared, how… far were they willing to go. My survival instincts were running rampant, and yet… that wasn't why my heart was racing., was it? My worry wand fear warped by the sheer excitement and lust, the desires which had marinaded for years. My mind less occupied by if the muscular, well toned men around me would hurt me, and more instead more focused on the hope that one of them would just zip off their pants and ram my face with their cock lodging down my neck and take my breath away-. -Chllcth- I felt a palm on my neck. 
	“Gyhghaa.” 
	“Woo, woo, easy does it little fag, Freaking out in tha speeding vehicle hasn't ended well for anybody, Leave this to me, move as I tell you to, when I tell you, smooth motions now,” his voice was, almost therapeutic listened as he instructed me to ange my head back, I felt his fingers, feeling out my neck, tapping all-round it, feeling my pulse. 
	“How is it looking?” came that voice from the front seat. 
	“It will fit, just a little tight.” 
	I swallowed, hard. 
	“Better wait then, we can arrange for another when we on location.” 
	“Boss, it will fit him fine, I mostly said that to see his slutty little ass freak out, it is a thing of beauty.” 
	“Do you honestly think he needs the extra push for that to happen? Look at him. We are staying honest, you should know better.” The suited camel lectured. 
	“Understood,” he said, and then I felt something around my neck, closing in, then latched shut. I reached up, feeling the collar with my fingertips, tracing its rim. The leash clipped onto it. 
	“I think he likes it, “Collar virgin too, then, hope you can put in some work in it for the crew. I suppose if you are not up to snuff, you will be soon enough.” After this, the tires screeched to a halt and in a moment of silence I swallowed, feeling the bulge in my neck rubbing up to the inside of the collar. 


We stepped out, They stepped out, a tug of the leash hoisted me to my side, as I tried to get my bearings another tug came, forcing me down to my knees as I stumbled out the open car door, onto root speckled grass. 
	“Don't want to keep them waiting, get a move on.” 
	I tried to stand, but another tug flung me to the ground. I grunted, heaving from the shock, but remained on all fours. 
	“Good.” 
Was all he responded with, I stumbled after them, I crawled on all fours, trying to feel out ahead where I could place my hands, their collective footsteps around me forming a wall, a cage keeping that moved along with me, ensuring I didn't step out of line. I stumbled along with their pace, further and further until the air felt fresh, crisp smelling of pine and flora. Eventually, we came to a stop. I panted, already exhausted from when they untied my blindfold. I looked up. We were really in a forest, the three beasters from the car loomed above, looking down me on me. The buffalo, a lama, and a bull. The pale camel rested against a tree, the black buffalo and a deep umber Lama standing close. The one holding my leash was a fit, slender bull with a clear auburn coat, a milk pale spots decorating his coat. They had discarded the mellow, kind mask they wore when I met them at the car, each one sported a grin that showed their teeth, eyebrow curled broad to accentuate their smirks, it wasn't the toothy smile of a friend seeing you again for the first time in we, this was them, bearing their fangs. 
	I hesitated, shaking as I stood up. This, was not a studio, this wasn't like any location they had filmed in before. I was leashed, lead deep into the forest, by a group of strangers. “That I… what is going on?” I said, unable to bear the pressure and situation I was put in. “H-how are y-you supposed to film a-anything here.” 
	The bull holding my leash rammed his palm over my head, brushing and wringing my hair back and forth under his grasp. “You just got cock on the brain, really rare to see a slut so eager to expose themselves to be abused on camera, what do we think of that, boys?” The others stemmed up in a chuckle, as he tugged the leash upwards, hoisting me up, standing with the collar digging into my neck, forcing my legs to straightened up, and soon raised onto my toes before he eased the grip. “You should know,” The camel boss said, stepping in to join the group, “We take this with the utmost sincerity and severity, if what is we started rolling and you turned out were, in reality, a scared, hopeless brat soon begging us to stop… for further reference, that is a sure way to kill a boner. We want to ensure you this fresh chunk of meat ware up to our standards,” he explained, then jabbed his palm in my chest. 
	I felt my heart skip a beat at the hit, as I slammed back against the camel's body, head bumping into his chest, his refined abs buffering my back. The beaster behind me wrapped is arm under my head, sealing me in a headlock. I grasped his arm, feeling his muscles tense, and drew in a hasty breath, his touch… h-his muscles. I felt it. I wasn't just watching. It was… real. 
	“It might be easier for you to see this as your exam, elevating you from basic bitch, to a hot piece of spankable ass,” the camel said, slipping out of his suit, showing his bare arms underneath his short sleave’d shirt and stepped up to clutch my cheek. “Because if you can't handle a bit of rough and tumble,” he said, muzzle cents away from my face. Then leached back, gurgled, and -Spltlsh- chucked out a glob of congealed nasal gunk and saliva onto my face. I saw it arching through the air, reflecting spare sunlight sneaking in from the foliage above, glimpsing a reflection of myself in the gelatinous glob, before it smacked into my face with the slick clash of pancake batter dumped on the pavement -Sppfllwthwhw-. The liquid hit my forehead, spreading out in gooey tendrils, the liquid spittle drooling in a cold streak down the ridge of my nose, leaving a skid mark ofther goo sloughed along as the drool dripped down the tip of my nose
	“Then… then you aren't worth the hassle to turn you into a hot little cock gobbler.” his voice grew, firm, as his hand came over my face, thumb pressing in. His thumb smeared into the glob, smearing it through my hairs, staining to matte, and then brushing and wiping it across my forehead and down my cheeks, his fingers articulated and forceful to jab hard into my cheeks and forehead, grazed by my eyes unharmed.
	“Do you feel this? Are you ready to make each one of my boy's cocks feel just like this?” he asked and smashed his palm down my face, compressing the congealing liquid over me before drawing his hand. “Moist and lubricated by your spittle so each cock has an easier time ramming down your throat,” he withdrew his hand, leaving a web of saliva connected us, it was first when it left that I noticed how warm his palm had been, I looked up to it, longingly. 
	“You feeling like a proper slut now huh, dick fag? Are you gonna have the stamina to polish them all to a mirrors shine, so you can see your own sweat and filth smeared face in their reflection? Will you be able to look at yourself after you've chugged manhood for hours?” 
	My breath, once more, lodged in my throat, responses locked beneath it. Another one roused up and called out. 
	“Oh yeah, bitch, how long do can you keep your breath? ‘Cus I am gonna be all about breaking your record over and over when you are choking on my balls.” 
	“Better practice your concentration too,” the black buffalo said with a huff, “I have had my eyes on that ass of yours, I wouldn't mind taking your slut ass for agood sloughing while you are gargling dick thrown in the other end.” 
	Before I could respond another batch of spit, this time from above, smacked down my forehead, this time sleek throughout like a homogeneous slime, the same napalm coming down to mute any response I could muster, my face was buried in his palms, but… the warmth was back, it felt so, so… My rear clenched, I felt my whole colon quiver at the thought of it, it rattled throughout my intestines, then shook along my arms. I had dreamed of this, and, with even a pinch of logic I knew I shouldn't expect my body to be ready for something like this… but… it ached with urges all throughout, I wanted it. I could feel it, already… the same force and place, the palm mashing into my face, ramming between my cheeks, sinking into me… plunging again and again. 
	“Mmrpgs wmgmpwthr.” My voice came out muffled under the clasp of the hand. 
	“Too much for you already? Come on, fag, don't be such a disappointment,” he said and brought his palm down to cup my cheek. “Don't worry, we do not expect you to talk much, you will have your mouth occupied too much for that, isn't that right, cock sock?” 
	“Mfmwf fmmwfmr,” I mumbled back, nodding and quivering. The camel closed his eyes, sucking in on his lip and huffing out streams of hot breath through his nostrils, condensing with the spittle already reached across my face. He planted his hand on my chest, soaking the remnants of spittle into my clothes. 
	“Keep that attitude up, fag,” he said, then trailed his arms down my shirt, wiping off a streak of spittle onto me, in the same motion his fingers unbuttoned my shirt, in one stroke leaving my chest exposed. “We might have use for you yet.” 
	The leash bull let me go, and shoved me forwards into the brown lama's clutches, but keeping a hold of my shirt to strip me topless as I bumped into him. “Mfms, Work has been so boring, really need some tight fag ass to take out all that stress on.” 
	“Keep work out of this.” 
	“It is true though, but the only work I am invested in,” he said, and wrapped his arm around my neck, hosing me up, I felt his muzzle brush against my cheek, “Is working this bitch's hind raw,” he groaned and shoved his muzzle against me tight, dragging in deep breaths of my scent. “Phaa, ooh yeah, he really reeks of excited virgin, all that fearful stress…” 
	My chest heaved, breathing ramping up, but… I felt how steaming hot my cheeks were turning, squealing out moans had never known I could make. 
	“Mfnhrrwayaa.” 
	“Isn't that, simply,” he lowered his voice to a whisper, the moist breath of his words caressing my ear as he whispered, “Precious, for a fresh hunk of fag flesh.” 
	In a moment the buffalo curved his arms under mine, unleashing me from the grasp only to catch me in a pose in which the most resistance I could muster was flailing my arms like stranded guppy. 
	“Easy now, we do not want anyone to get hurt,” he assured as the brown coated lama moved up and scooped his hands back around my legs, I felt his muscles tense, buffing out to mould my calves against his brawn. Then, he hoisted. I was carried up, parallel with the ground, head forced back into the buffalo's chest, my vision obstructed by the underside of his muzzle. 
	My chest convulsed with my heart vying to breakage itself from the clutches of my ribs as the brown lama hooked his digits around the brim of my pants, then fished up my underwear in the same clutch. Their motions were rugged, yet deliberate, I felt every motion, there was no rush to their methods, though every grip or jolt their fingers grooved my skin. I heard the drumming of my heart echo back and forth inside my head, rocking out of balance as the beasters peeled back all that covered my lower parts. It was beating, so loud… coursing through my head. I hesitated, calmed, closing my eyes. The heartbeat as there, but it didn't match mine. -Ddkndk- -Dndkdgnn- I felt the pulsations rattle through the roost of my hair. Coming straight from the buffalo's chest. The beat held true to a rhythm, even as my body shuffled and brushed back and forth along his pettish shirt covered pectorals while they bereft me of my undergarments, the pace remained the same. It wasn't a resting beat, it was excited. My own breathing, calm. I peered down, seeing my pants bundled together with my underwear around my ankles, dragged back off of my feet. I nibbled on my lower lip, my heart pumping heat throughout my core. Because my crotch was revealed, flagpole rasied high, with each throb the pink head peeked through its hood. 
	He released my legs, feet scuttling through the air before they found the ground, the black buffalo unleashing me afterwards, letting me freely teeter until I regained my balance. My eyes trailing over the beasters around me, each wearing their won pleased grin. 
	“What do you do you recon?” The boss asked, as the spotted bull strode around me, the others joining in, eyes trailing over my exposed form, scrutinizing me. 
	“He looks smaller without the pants, they compensated well for his slender legs.” 
	“one thing certainly isn't, s’m aspect of him took the opposite approach,” The buffalo claimed, muzzle leaning in past my face as his hooked fingers reached down to my shaft. They trailed and cupped my balls, a quiver spiralling through my spine as the broad, warm touch of his fingers sunk heat through my jewels. 
	He gradually trailed three fingers back along the mid between my the orbs, caressing the bottom of my cock, brushing a streak of warmth in his wake. My dock throbbed, I pinched my hands into fists from the trembles his touch sent surging through me. I had seen how rough he could get, and the thought of that being expressed at any moment – the looming eventuality – roared through my chest. 
	“This pissy cocksucker 's shaking like a leaf,” he said, then flicked his fingers up at the tip of my shaft, flicking back the hood to my shaft as his fingers withdrew form my swaying manhood, “his fagstick paints the picture: an impressive, astonishingly desperate slut.” 
	“If his cock is talking, then his ass won't shut up,” the spotted bull taunted. 
	Right after a hook spiked through my thighs, a smack from an open palm echoing through the muscles in my rear, leaving me to stumble forwards before -Gcnnghs- his fingers caught my rear, digits sinking deep as the grasp contracted, moulding huge bulges of butt meat in the interspaces of his fingers – like mushrooms growing from between the latticework of a net. 
	“His rear just goes on and on,” he said while raising and smacking his fingers, one by one, down to grasp in more of my ass, the palm so wide it warmed up the sore spot from his slap as his clutch wandered up my glutinous with the steps of a spider walking over its cocooned prey. 
	Once more, breathing struggled against me, it was tough to keep myself levelled. Once more, my mind made a review of the situation we were in. Taken out deep in the forest with no direction home, trapped in the clutches of four strangers who all surpassed my own physical prowess, and all of them eagerly groping and feeling me out… soon another palm graced my rear, this one calm, smooth, until pulling its fingers back and then ramming the grasp into my back. 
	“He certainly has a fair bit of plump, a sign of this slut, bra’ garbage mind fag spending all his hours squashing his ass in to a comfy chair, I am sure the rich would doduce this as premium quality, when it is just extra flab” he elaborated, both of them grasping and molesting my rear at their own pace, the miss matched gropes and clutches wringing my emotional system into a strange shape, folding my guts into a confused origami. 
	And yet, throughout it all, my shaft stood long, proud, taut a sculpture in steel. My mind playing back so many scenes I had watched again and again, titelating my mind with the fact that this… this was happening. It didn't matter if fear weighed a ton on the scale, when my sheer lust was just heavy enough to always outweigh it, keeping me trembling on the barrier of dread and dreading the thought of them stopping.
	From the front another beaster grasped over my chest, caressing their fingers down between my pecs, letting their palms roam across my shoulders and down my arms, pinching, tugging, slipping along my side. The delicate touch of a farmer inspecting a sheep's wool for sheering, coupled with the butcher confirming the quality of another morsel of meat. “So you do have some muscle on you after all, perhaps sure, it will be put to the test. If you pass this, taking on seven horny beasters is not merely hard to work out,” the lama leaned in as he clasped his hands over my back, I felt his fingers trailing along my shoulder blades, “It is a hard workout, even for the most despicable low life cock goblins, even more so for a pomp load of money,” he leaned in closer, stifling my quivers and struggles from the now three beasters behind me, reaching to inspect the girth and texture flutes, a whirl of fingers prying and groping sparking jolts through my spine, but the weight of the lama over my shoulders grounding me as he whispered, “if you do not pass, are not up for the task, I am certain we will find a way for you to compensate us for our time.” 
	I inhaled sharply. I watched the lama's smile broaden as he moved back, the hands on my rear retracting along with him, everything slowing down. -Smmacctch- A clasp smacked own onto my shoulders, my fear I had had already been judged crumbled as I was forced down on my knees, then rammed face-first into the humid dirt. I reflexively twisted my head to land on my cheek, feeling my head crammed and earth moulding under my cheekbone, crumbs welled into my exposed nostril, with my cheek pancaked I struggled to cough and retune my breathing. In my periphery, I saw the buffalo coming down upon me, planting his rear on my back- -Cwwttnspffwt- The smack rebounded from his flank hitting me, jabbing my form deeper into the dirt from the impact. “You've got to get used to staying this low, if we are to have any chance of getting some proper fun out of you ass, and your bitch ass looking proper on the ground is just as crucial,” the buffalo proclaimed to the collected affirmation of the crew, his palms moving fast, -Swwtch- Swatting into my rear, full palm, every finger making an impact and sending a short-lived shock wave over my posterior hills. Sending my thighs rippling with the burst of energy his palms were forcing into my flab. 
	“Fmmgnrmgmsm,” I quivered in the rattling ache, my breathing growing louder, and knowing everyone heard it, faster. 
	“This is what you are after, is it boy? Are you that much of a fag? Getting off on someone beating your ass like baker batters his dough?” he asked, fingers which were flat began to curl, hooking around rising droves of blubber compacting my soft ass fat taut and solid, then gripping harder, sculpting my ass like marble. 
	His sentence played in my head over and over, my chest crushing up against the ground in hefty breaths. Then, I felt, something else. As he grasped, groped and kneaded my rear, I felt him moving along my back, his rear grinding up along my spine, resting on my shoulders, then back. Plush, warm… there was no layer of separatiion between the skin, he was bottomless, the buffalo's raw butt cheeks pinning me to the ground, the weight of his mounds flattening onto me, sculpting, kneading, brushing to and fro. It was, the light brush of his coat sweeping over me, and flattening to a smooth carpet under the bulk of his bottom. On one hand, I felt the bulk cutting my air, on the other, I felt like I was losing my breath. 
	“Any reason you are now withholding your answer?” the boss said, standing over me. I could barely peek up from the skewed angle I was forced in with my head, then clasping my teeth as broad fingers investigated my crack, parting my buns around it. As it trailed down from my tailbone, fist cleaving my cheeks as the fingers swept over my pucker, sliding along the gorge of past my grundle, tickling at the base of my sack, then pushing in harder, tension spiking at the force  – my nerves crystallizing under his fingertips, and then shattering into shards in the wake of his finger working its way back up my crack. Again and again, his strokes were the bow, my body the violin, and my falsetto tones the music he composed from my tensed titillation. 
	“If you are not up for it after this, we will be disappointed, but understand,” the boss said, his tone shifting down an octave. 
	His words pulled at my heartstrings. A part of me vouched for it, to leave the ache and fear behind, to bundle up at home in a cozy bed instead of being hammered into the dirt by a hot a stranger's ass. 
	“Oh would you not put those ideas in his head, just, look at him,” the spotted bull called out. 
	I felt a tug at my collar, the leash hoisting up my head for a moment, I gasped out for air. 
	-Smsmmqtch- Another smack, the initial hit dampened, but the ache of my abused rear pulsating through me in the aftershock. 
	“This is what you want, isn't it, boy?” He called out, smacking again and again, my voice responding in cries delayed after each smack. The pace picked up, hammering, drumming his palms into my ass, vibrations rustling through me as the clapping of flat palm to my chunky bottom swelled out, echoing in the surrounding forest. The symphony of my rear being punished travelling far with the wind, I heard birds taking off from their branches far away. 
	The drumming of plump red meat mingling with the pleased chuckles of the buff equines. 
	“A purebred faggot like you, regardless of what background, just wants it… you just, crave being abused like this,” the buffalo said, smacks slowing down to slow, harsh -Sttwcmh- shaking slams, “abused and used as we see fit.” 
	The lama sneered. “Tell us, bitch, regale us with just how much you can't wait to cram our cocks down your face and snort the musk from our balls.” 
	The collar held a tight grasp on me, my breath shading, groaning even as the smacks subsided, the pain still drumming along my nerves. My heart is fluttering; the rabid collibrie locked in my chest beating its wings rabid, smothered and compressed for too long, it has become a wild beast, one I cannot holster. It darts through my neck and escapes by way of a quivering cry. 
	“Yes, yes I do.” 
	The chuckles… fade. The chatter, subsides. The bull lets go of my leash, and my chin bounces back onto the ground. This was the limelight hitting me, all spotlights homing in with baited anticipation. 
	“I want nothing as much as to s-suck your dicks dry,” I cry out, face smooshed to the ground, sweat making tracks down my forehead, “I wana stay beneath you, by the ground, ss-so I never have to move far from wrapping my tongue or my whole mouth around a throbbing beasthood. P-please, I wanna choke on all your cocks.” This, surprised me as well, I laid there catching my breath, bewildered by what I had voiced. 
	The boss's lips stayed flat, a straight pencil stroke. Then, it curved, away from the previous grins, forming… a smile. 
	“He-heh heh…” He snickered. The fuse lit, and soon the four erupted into a laughing fit, hearty chuckles booming through the surrounding air. He took a step forwards, raising his hoof, and gently placing it on my head, pushing me further into the dirt, nose smothering the moist ground. “And what about our Balls, surely, they feel quite left out if your dick craving mouth neglected them.” 
	“I wf-mmg wanna service them all, l-lick them s-smooth.” 
	“You want to suck them.” 
	“I-I want to suck on them so hard.” 
	“You gotta be gentle with them…” 
	“S-sorry, g-gentle, h-just as long as I g-get to feel them in my mouth-.” 
	“I am messing with you, don't you think we expect you to put your back into it? You'll suck hard and long, savoring their-.” 
	“I'll cram them into my mouth and suck the lollipops for hours.” I screamed out, “they'll be bloated and sore and scrunched up after I've soaked them with my drooling gob.” Again, there was hesitation from the beasters. The boss removed his hoof. I snorted out mud, spat out dirt. The buffalo rose. My leash was picked up, guiding me up to a kneel in the ring of stallions. 
	The boss looked to his crew, giving a soft nod. “Give the faggot what he's craving.”
	My mind rushes away with me, imagining just what he meant by this, but soon enough I got my answers. clutch- The clanking of belt buckles opening, fliers ripping, and then the drag of the curtains wipping down their legs to show off the main actors… Everywhere I turn, I was just at eye height with their crotches, coming face to face with their hefty prides. The spotted one's cock having two paler marks on his skin, ocre tinted hues of his usual milky splotches. And he was already beginning to nurse an erection. The buffalo was already pantsless, his mast thick and solid, slightly limp but enough bulk to take up most of his grasp. And below, their jewels, swelled broad as plums, smoothly shaved, the lama's balls glistening of congealed musk and sweat, the surrounding air infected with murky charcoal brine, I could taste the salt in the air wafting from them, flowing over me, my stomach heaving to catch my shaking chest's breath. All of them, casually stroking the flaccid members. 
	“Is it all you have dreamed about, you sexy ass pervert?” someone asked. My mind didn't catch who, it was too busy cataloguing the sight, imprinting it into my memory, for if this was a dream, I wanted to at least wake up with this fresh in my mind. I bathed in the scent, drained it in, panting weakly at as the musk entered my lungs. It was foul, and everything I wanted. Was this, what I had been missing, staring at screens? I clenched my fists in my lap, suddenly, self conscious, about the shear stiffness of the erection I was sporting. 
	“Heck, we should' have been filming this, it is beautiful.” Someone said. 
	The boss knelt down before me, answering, “if we didn't do this, we couldn't do anything else, sticking to procedures and tested methods are what we have built our success upon, or there would not be any playtime.” 
	“I know boss, but-.” 
	“That said, I agree.” He reached for my chin, cupping it in his grasp. One by one, his fingers wrapped into me… his thumb latching into into my cheek. He lowers his voice, his tone dripping of authoritarian authority, as smooth as liquid honey. “Listen closely. The deal, with our videos… they will not cover the gas it took to drive you here…” 
	My eyes wide. 
	“All of my boys, none of them are paid. Capiche?” 
	I nodded once. 
	“You wonder, why are we doing this then, why go through all this trouble embedding phone numbers in our videos, taking interviews and testing out the mettle of you or anyone else that has been in our videos? Got a clue, fag?” 
	A chill spreads tendrils through my core which in turn inject me with warmth, as his words dawn on me. 
	“That is right… we do it causes we love it. And I mean… Love. It. Artists with lust as our paint, cocks our brushes, and dominating little human faggots like yourself our canvas. Our medium of passion, is making, especially little fags like you… Our medium, is making you choke on our cocks…” 
	“Suck our balls,” the lama chimes in. 
	“Eat our asses,” the spotted one calls.” 
	“And lick our hooves,” the buffalo said. The boss moves off me, the four joining together in stomping their hooves to the ground.
	I watch as little pebbles dance and skitter onto the ground under their slamming soles. Their… Stampede… a quiver bathes through my back, spreading through my chest, then detonates in sprawling quivers that make my skin stand on its end. By this confession, I felt that… I understood all of them, just a bit more. It wasn't just, my fantasy that was being brought to life… it was their passion. 
	“That,” the boss said, standing tall, “and whatever else we feel like abusing our fresh bitch meat of a dick whore with. How does that sound, the fag known as Guss?” 
	The silence was even heavier than the last. Coming after the resounding stampede. I look from one to the next, huffing. I move my lips. Soundless. Then close them, and gather my energy… I lower my head in a respectful nod. 
	“Congratulations,” the boss says clutching his shaft, “you are now an approved and credited cock slut, fit for film.” 
	The group stems up in a resounding cheer, palms hitting palms, shouts devolving into chuckles, the joy infesting me. 
	I look up out of breath, out of energy, out of mind… tears trickle down my cheek. They were so warm.