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You take a detour down a side tunnel and enter a large, well-lit chamber with a grouping of desks in the middle and a balcony running across the second story. Various other hallways lead off from it. The room is empty, but there are recent signs of life-- half-drained coffee cups, notes scrawled on legal pads, coats draped over the backs of chairs.\n\n"This is the nerve center for the Horse Guard," says Aidan. "It looks like everyone is out at their posts right now, but this place will be packed in about thirty minutes when everyone changes shifts." \n\nYou raise your eyebrows. Like, a whole packed room of thick-dicked, horny horse guards? Was this leading to the sexual favors your captors had in mind? You can picture it now: getting handcuffed to, you don't know, a desk in here, or maybe a bench in the locker room, because there //always// has to be a locker room in these situations. Then they'd hold you down, and a ring of meaty, excited cocks would have their way with you, cumming on you, penetrating you, forcing you to hungrily lap up their seed like the animal you are, maybe even--\n\n"Yeah, that'd be crazy, wouldn't it?" says Maximus with a chuckle. \n\nWhat, you say.\n\n"You were kind of mumbling to yourself. Something about a ring of meaty, excited cocks?" Maximus pulls open a large wooden door and leads you inside. "Sorry, primate. While that's definitely an idea I'll have to discuss with the rest of the bullpen, you're gonna face something a little //stranger// than that."\n\n[[Dammit dammit DAMMIT]]

[u] Your body is liquified into a genetic slurry. It drips down through the floor and into the queen's hungry waiting tentacles.\n\nEND

You squint to make out three... well, you suppose you //could// call them horses, but it'd be a stretch. You realize why Maximus referred to this cell as the "Freak Tank". \n\nIn your short time walking the halls of the horse hive, you've seen many different flavors of hybrid, but they've always been between horse and human. The most common model seems to be human bodies with horse heads, hides and legs, but there are also double-torso "centaurs", quadruped horses (sometimes with human faces), and all manner of other combinations. One of the guards you saw in the throne room looked //normal//, even, like any human you'd see back on Base Prime, until he turned around and you saw his eyes-- black as drops of ink and bulging out of the sides of his head. The horses still appeared to be treating human DNA like a playground, but that was just it-- they //only// ever mixed human DNA with their own. Scientists back at base suspected it was a biology thing, but seeing these three, you suspect otherwise.\n\nTo the left of you is a steel gray horse with a long, white bony protrusion extending from its forehead, ridges spiraling around its length. To your right, a dark bay quadruped with massive bird wings erupting out of its upper back. And right across from you is some sort of centaur, but with a horse head still attached on the front, protruding from the human half's abdominal area. Even more distressingly, it doesn't appear to have any skin whatsoever.\n\n"How'ssss it hangin'?", it hisses at you through lipless teeth. \n\nOne small part of your brain lights up and thinks: //Aha, I get it. He must be making a joke, since we're all chained to the walls.// You don't hear it, because the other parts of your brain are all making some sort of terrified high-pitched shrieking noise. You writhe around in your chains, tugging at them uselessly. \n\n"Dammit, Keith!" shouts the... well, it'd be pointless //not// to call him a unicorn. "Do you have to flip out //everyone// who passes through here?" \n\n[[Get a hold of yourself]]

It's probably better if it looks like you're proactive-- like you're really ready to get in the mix with the horses. Isn't that what diplomacy is all about? "Integrate," you say to Beverly, and she repeats the same through the hatch. \n\nThere's a sound like someone slamming open a gigantic metal deadbolt, which, you realize as the black door slowly creaks open, is in fact exactly what it is. Beverly leads you into the dimly-lit cavern beyond: the Integration Chamber.\n\n[[Enter the Chamber of Integration]]

You try to spit out your mouth tendril, but in response it just goes deeper, snaking all the way down past your throat and into your insides. Another tendril crawls up your leg and finds its way into your rear entrance, its fluid-drenched length silkily sliding into you and filling you deep. More tendrils play across your chest, your face, your limbs, and your terror gets drowned out by sheer primal pleasure. As they start to grind against you in unison, you begin to thrust your improbably huge cock-- now hitting the three foot mark and showing no signs of slowing down-- in time with them. \n\nThe tendril leading down through your mouth thickens, prying your jaws open wider, and the tendril in your ass does the same. You entertain the brief notion that this is some sort of game to them, that they're seeing who can fill you up more. You can feel the black fluid pooling somewhere inside you, but only momentarily before it's sucked up by your mammoth genitals. You wrap your hands around the tendrils holding your arms and tug them as if to tell them: //Faster. More.// They comply. \n\nSoon you can barely fit inside of the chamber. Your dick is so big you can't actually see the entirety of it without having to move your head to take it in. It's bigger than you are, maybe even big enough to rival the queen's, and the once-airy chamber feels cramped as it grinds against its walls. Beneath it, twin planets hang, with oceans of cum rolling and churning inside of them. Hundreds of tendrils have wrapped themselves around your shaft, and are wriggling against it, pleasuring it, begging it for the climax you so desperately want to give them. A few have even snaked their way into your tip, its slit dribbling jet-black, as they explore the lining of your preposterous member's interior. \n\nThere's a part of you that wants to keep going, to see just how terrifyingly enormous you can get. Some tiny scrap of rationality you're clinging to, however, tells you that no, you can't live out the rest of your life as a vestigial body connected to a gigantic cock in a forgotten underground chamber on a dead planet. Your instinctive human nature to survive kicks in, and you reach to tear the tendril away from your lips.\n\nOnly you don't have lips anymore. There's just smooth skin that leads straight into the base of the tendril entering your face. You try to feel for some sort of opening, but you realize your hands are gone, too. The tendrils which once bound your hands just thicken and transition smoothly and seamlessly into your wrists. Which, hey, don't your wrists feel a little softer than normal?\n\nThe tendrils tighten their velvety grip around your cock. You don't know whether you're terrified or turned on, and the two emotions reach around your brain, shake hands with each other and tie themselves into a skull-splitting knot of sexual climax.\n\nYou have no mouth, but you must scream. \n\n[[NOW SEE HERE]]

You open your mouth to scream, but Maximus takes the opportunity to jam the bridle in. It's made of thick, soft leather, and the slime it's soaked in is warm and sweet with just a hint of salt on the end, like fresh caramel. Against your better judgment, you find yourself starting to lick the bridle between your teeth, and soon you're sucking on it uncontrollably, teasing every bit of slime off of it. Your face is tingling, and you realize the bridle is getting easier and easier to hold in your mouth, like it's shrinking or something, but as you look down, you realize that no, your nose and mouth are lengthening into a muzzle shaped more naturally for it. Then the tingling starts in your entire body. \n\nYour skin stretches. Your bones grow. Thick ropes of muscle and gobs of fat deposit themselves on you in strange new places. Your hands feel like they're burning as your fingers fuse together and reshape themselves into massive hooves. You fall to all fours, and you feel something huge and heavy sprout from between your legs. Hair blooms out across your skin. You try to cry out, but all you can manage is a whinny.\n\n"Wonderful," says Aidan. "I've never seen anyone take to the change so easily." \n\n"It knows it was //made// for this." Maximus gives your bridle a playful shake. "What say we get started?" \n\nYou figure if there's any time to appeal to their pathos and make a go-for-broke impassioned plea for freedom, it's now. The bridle makes it sort of hard to talk, though, and besides, you seem to be having trouble thinking straight. Your brain feels thick and muddled, like the slime you were sucking through your teeth just a moment ago. \n\n[[Make a go-for-broke plea for freedom]]

You feel a tightness in your balls, amplified by Aidan's attentive licking and rubbing. Your member, its tip firmly jammed in your mouth, flares and trembles, as heat crawls up from its base. A wave of light swells and rises in your mind, and, as your whole body begins to shake and you try to neigh through a mouthful of cock, it crashes on the shore. \n\nHot, creamy jizz sprays out of your dick and down your throat. Instinctively, you start swallowing, and your lips tighten to seal any gaps as the flow intensifies. There's cum spraying out the sides of your mouth, all over your dick, your body, the two horses, just about everything in the general vicinity. Mostly, though, your seed pours into you, gallons and gallons of it, as you keep swallowing to keep it moving. After what seems like an eternity, the torrent slows to a dribble before finally stopping. You spit your limp cock out of your mouth and gasp for air. \n\nYou're not sure if you can get up. Your head is spinning. Your legs feel wobbly and weak. Your belly is bloated with cum, and it sloshes around Maximus like a waterbed as he continues to grind deeply into it. He must still be having fun. The door to the stables slides open, and a phalanx of horse guards crowds in to see what happened. They gawk, slack-jawed at the cudddling pile of monstrous oversexed horses catching their breath in Stall 3. \n\nYou crane your neck out to look at them, upside-down. "You're just in time, boys," you tell them with a grin. "There's this locker room fantasy I've just been //dying// to act out..."\n\n''THE END''\n\n//YOUR SCORE IS: A solid six. Very resourceful! Not exactly subtle, though.//

The horses untangle themselves and latch onto you like a life raft. Aidan lays across the top of your dick, grinding his into yours, stroking your legs as he smothers your oversize testes with his tongue. Maximus spreads himself across your warm, fleshy belly and nuzzles his face into it, his velvety nose greedily sucking in your heady, overripe horse musk. He finds a nipple, and teases it gently with his teeth. Shivers of pleasure threaten to shake apart your brain. These horses are making you so horny, but how are you supposed to get yourself off like this?\n\nThen you feel something hitting against your chin.\n\nYou look down and realize your underestimated just how absurdly huge your cock actually was. It's fully extended now, as thick around as a telephone pole, and stretches all the way up to your head. To your //mouth.// You bury your muzzle in its flared tip and slurp precum from its leaky hole like it's an oasis in the desert. You're a perfect circle, a closed loop, and all that's left to do is lose yourself in yourself as your helpers grind against you, drink in your scent, and guide you towards your peak.\n\n[[Go fuck yourself]]

You try to struggle, but Aidan's powerful grip holds you still as a rock while Maximus fastens the straps around your body. They hang loosely off your arms and legs. You wonder if he plans on tightening them at any point, but instead he pulls the bridle out of its container, shaking the excess strands of slimy fluid off of it. \n\n"Now just say 'ah' for me," he says, holding the bridle close to your head. It fills your vision, and behind it all you can see is Maximus's long horsy face, bent into a smirk of sinister pleasure. "This will only take a moment."\n\nThe way you see it, you can do one of two things. On the one hand, you can call out for help. This hive is full of horses, and you figure someone's bound to find you and pull you free from these nutbars. On the other hand, though, you can employ a little bit of expert astronaut situational training.\n\n[[Call for help]]\n[[Use your training]]

[u] This display of compassion moves the crowd, and they elect to set you free. You live out the rest of your days as the executioner's apprentice and (soon enough) lover. It's not always the most glamorous life, but he's a gentle and caring soul, and the work is easy.\n\nEND

Maximus smirks. "Please, come with us," Aidan says. "We mean you no harm. You're the first human sighted on Earth in a long, long time, and I'm sure everyone back at the hive will want to hear why you're visiting." \n\nYou're also pretty sure they will be, considering they hunted your ancestors to near-extinction. You risk a quick glance back down to their dongs. As appetizing as they look-- //and they do look appetizing//, your suppressed subconscious whispers to you-- those anacondas are incredibly dangerous. \n\nThere was a briefing that Research and Development put together before you left that explained in cold, clinical detail how the horses were a parasite species that replicated virally, and how their "semen" was actually highly concentrated genetic material. If it got into you-- through your mouth, your eyes, open wounds, any //other// orifices (and it was here that your commanding officer gave you an especially hard stare)-- it would work its way into your cells and start replicating until you become //one of them.//\n\nIn theory, they should have perished from a lack of humans to infect, but here are these two chumps talking about a whole //hive// of them, whatever that means. If the mission is still even a thing at all, this seems pertinent.\n\n"Y'know... It's a long walk back to the hive," says Maximus. "A long, sweaty walk. You'll never make it wearing //that//." He leans down, plucks you up by your shoulders, and gently tears your theoretically tearproof STEELKLON^^TM^^ outer suit off of you like the wrapper off a piece of candy. "Why don't we take a break first?" he says. "Maybe have some fun?"\n\n[[Take me to your leader]]\n[[Let's have some fun]]

You push your face into him and inhale deeply. He's obviously been patrolling around in the hot sun all day, and his junk reeks with his musky horse sweat. The smell drives you up the wall. It's just so //organic//, you have to get more of it. You reach up and start fondling the tip of his half-erect cock with one hand while running your drooling little tongue all over his balls, lapping the sweat off every inch you can find. \n\n"The queen's going to have our head for this, screwing the first alien on earth in two hundred years," snaps Aidan.\n\n"The queen doesn't have to know this ever //happened//. Now try to enjoy this." Maximus reaches out and grabs one of Aidan's nipples, again with so much control despite those massive hands. It's not much of a pinch, but Aidan still yelps as if he's stepped on a tack. "Please, not while we're... //w-working,// Max..." he pleads as Maximus caresses his tender nips torturously. Eager to assist, you reach out with your free hand and start massaging Aidan's thick, pendulous ball sack. Maximus pulls Aidan closer to start nibbling at Aidan's neck. Aidan grabs Maximus's head to keep him there. It's just you and them, alone in a quiet meadow, free to explore things new, half-forgotten, and strange. \n\n\n[[Keep at it]]

It's a hell of a risk, but you're already in a hell of a risky situation. There's nowhere to go but up from here, right? You tell Rosemary you'll give her plan a shot. \n\nQuentin unchains you from the wall, and you shake the cramps out of your hands as you wince in pain. "Come over here and lie down in the middle of the floor," says Rosemary. "This should be pretty straightforward." \n\nYou do as she asks, and the four horses surround you in a circle. "This will only take a couple of minutes. We're still horses, and this is what we're best at," says Rosemary in a calming voice. "Now open your mouth, close your eyes and try to relax." \n\nYou shut your eyes and open your mouth. Relaxing, however, doesn't come easily. After laying on the floor in the darkness like a chump, listening to the horses' labored breaths, you crack an eye open to see what's going on.\n\nThe four horses are erect, their cocks pointed directly at your face like cannon barrels. Milo and Quentin are slowly stroking their own dicks while helping Keith and Rosemary out with theirs, their hands slick from the copious pre-cum leaking out of their weighty, throbbing dongs. You raise your head and are about to tell them that you //might// have changed your stance on whether or not this is an incredibly good idea, when the horses start shuddering and crying out, stomping their hooves and shaking their heads wildly. Four simultaneous hot blasts of thick, gooey horse jizz assault your face, filling your mouth and nose, splattering across your eyelids, and gluing together your hair. \n\nYou instantly feel yourself start to change. Your entire body is wreathed in a hot, burning sensation, like a thousand thumb tacks getting pushed into your skeleton at the same time. You feel bony protrusions emerge from your back at the same time as another one bursts through your forehead. Your legs can't seem decide how many of themselves there should be, and your skin feels like it's crawling around your body like ants.\n\n"I... I don't think this is working," you hear Rosemary say, through the haze of pain.\n\n"Do you think maybe the whole anti-crossbreeding theory might have some merit after all?" wonders Milo. \n\n"I think maybe it's time to leave," says Quentin. He looks down at you and shrugs. "Um... take it easy, i guess?" \n\nYou have a few choice words to say in reply, but you're not sure where your mouth is anymore. Your body is a roiling, violent mass of rapidly mutating and collapsing features and appendages, desperately trying to settle on a single stable form. Suddenly, you feel something collapse inside of you, like a bent twig snapping, and you collapse into a gooey liquid slurry. The puddle that was once you, noble space voyager, dribbles into the drain set into the floor. \n\n"Right, well, one less public relations victory for our overlords," says Milo, as they exit through the tunnel. "So what were you all thinking about for dinner?" \n\nDeep in the drain, something long, black and pulsating slurps away hungrily.\n\n''THE END''\n\n//YOUR SCORE IS: Two. All that reading to get here and you've got nothing to show for it but ice cream soup. Congratulations.//

You can't tell if minutes or hours have passed when the horses finally hit climax. They whinny and shudder, their hooves stomping, their cocks wildly shooting wad after wad of hot, sticky cum into the air. There's nothing you can do to stop it from getting into your mouth by accident. There //might// be something you can do to keep from lapping it off the horses' sweaty bodies, but you go right ahead anyways. Follow-through is important. As the viral genes take effect, you start to feel your skin tighten as your bones shift and reshape themselves.\n\nWhen you stand again, it's not on feet, but hooves. Ropes of muscle ripple with power beneath your skin like coiled springs. You brush your mane out of your eyes and slowly run your hand down your muzzle in amazement. Your eyes slide downwards as you notice the unignorable weight of your enormous new cock. It's a good feeling.\n\nThere are a lot of questions that still haven't been answered. Your mission is a failure, and you still know next to nothing about the planet or whether humans might be able to re-inhabit it. But you, an incredibly sexy horse sandwiched between two other incredibly sexy horses, couldn't give even a sixteenth of a shit about any of those issues.\n\n"We're taking more breaks on the way, right?" you whisper. \n\n"Were we going somewhere?" replies Maximus.\n\n''THE END''\n\n//YOUR SCORE IS: A solid, respectable three. Not bad, young space cadet, but next time try to keep it in your pants a little longer.//

Your body dissolves. You're a little sad to watch it go, since it only received its horsy modifications a couple minutes ago, but you've got bigger fish to fry. Deprived of a vessel but still very much alive, your consciousness spreads out across the entire volume of the tank. It mingles with the tank's other resident consciousness, then meshes with it. \n\nYou're back in your body. Or //a// body, anyways. You can feel your hearts beating blood through your chest, the triple beats in syncopation with each other. You can feel muscles tense and relax in your limbs as you swim through the tank, though you're a little unsure just how //many// limbs you have. Something in the double digits, you suspect. The murky birthing fluid doesn't bother you at all now, and you can see straight through it like it was water to the room beyond, to the machines, and to Quentin, staring down into the tank and looking horrified. You can't believe how many extra colors you hadn't noticed before now.\n\nAre you //growing?// The sides of the tank feel a lot closer than they were a moment ago. You can feel the water around you boiling, though it doesn't seem to bother you at all. You try to call out, but you don't seem to have the equipment to speak normally anymore. Your tongue just isn't the right shape, and it keeps hitting weirdly against your three rows of teeth. You can feel Quentin's mind racing just above yours, though, lit up with firing synapses like a Christmas tree. You tentatively reach out and touch it with yours, and you can feel a satisfying sensation of //contact,// of a current flowing between you two. The vibe seems to calm him down as well. \n\nI'M FINE, you say to him. More accurately, you sculpt the words out of his raw thoughts. You worry the effect will be overkill, like holding a loudspeaker next to his head, but this tank is getting tighter and tighter and finesse isn't really a priority. BUT I NEED TO GET OUT OF THIS TANK. \n\n"Where will you go?" Quentin says, dazed. \n\nVarious weighty thoughts begin to slide into place, oiled by your royal hormones. It's just like bees, right? This is a hive, and Quentin's a worker, and you're a queen. But upstairs... upstairs is another queen.\n\nThere can only be one queen in a hive. Everyone knows that. \n\nFETCH YOUR COMRADES, you say. TAKE ME TO THE THRONE ROOM.\n\n[[Let's finish this]]

It's a long journey from your busted tank to the freight elevator, especially on your tangle of spindly, oddly-positioned horse legs, but you manage, aided by Quentin and his cohorts in the Horse Underground. They're a hodgepodge of a retinue, but you figure you'll get situated for now and work on glamming yourself out later. Likewise, the walk from the elevator to the Throne Room is long and slow. A hush descends upon every hall you lurch down, as every horse in the hive puts down what (or who) they're doing to come out of their rooms and watch you pass.\n\nWhen you enter the atrium, the guards move aside to let you through. Usurper or no, it's forbidden to lay hands on royalty without your consent. You drag yourself towards the reigning queen and shake your head meaningfully. She whinnies and shifts her vast bulk forward until you two are nose to nose, belly to belly, cock to cock. For a tense minute there's a deathly silence as your minds stare each other down. If this were a Western movie, there'd be a church bell tolling noon in the distance, and a lone tumbleweed rolling across the ground behind you, and quaintly dressed townsfolk hiding behind barrels and peeking through windows. \n\nBut it isn't a Western movie. It's real life, which is to say some sort of overclocked alien horse sex nightmare. So something different happens. \n\nYou scream at the Underground to grab your regal-scale dreadnought of a dong, while she orders her retinue to do the same. Your followers hoist it over their shoulders like a team of ants and lead it over to the queen's glistening, heaving egg sphincter. They slide it in, and you feel your dick rapidly tumesce and harden to fill it. The black queen lets out a piercing shriek, and her retinue begins scaling your massive body, guiding her improbably vast cock up to your gaping maw. They ram it home into your mouth, and you begin fiercely massaging it with all seven sides of your non-Euclidean tongue as you grind your member deeper and deeper into her ovipositor. \n\nYou both churn and grind and thrust, and you broadcast sharp mental spikes of ferocity and passion as your minds thrash at each other. All around you, your army and her retinue have dropped what they're doing and are now fucking each other, fucking themselves, fucking the guards, fucking //everyone// with the same mindless urge. The throne room is a seething miasma of sweat, jizz and unbridled lust.\n\nAs you feel yourself build towards your finale, you realize why the humans could never really transcend their own problems. It wasn't because they fought too much, or didn't have enough sex, or couldn't communicate with each other-- those were all symptoms, not causes. The trouble was their inability to see conflict as anything other than a battle between two sides, an Us versus Them scenario, where the success of one group rides on the total domination (or extermination) of another. Why would you seek to crush an opponent when you can understand them instead? Why fight, when you can combine? \n\nYou cum into each other, and then you come into each other. Your jizz-spattered frames melt, fuse and reshape themselves into a single massive being. Legs bend and contort themselves into new and exciting shapes; vestigial breasts and dongs erupt across the surface of your skin, and hair sprouts like fungus. Your dicks loop and twist around each other until they're a single immense tower of pulsating sex. You let out a triumphant whinny, and cheers rise up from the floor of the Throne Room. There can only be one queen in a hive, and it's both of you.\n\nYou feel an aftershock quiver inside of you, and rivers of semen gush forth from your new ultra-cock, painting the walls of the atrium. Your head is only a couple of feet below the ceiling, now that you're bigger. You'll have to get your little worker bees to remodel it again. As you savor your release, you look up through the ceiling's windows and out at the vast glittering dome of the night sky. Before you hangs the moon, enormous, white, and never before looking as close as it does now. \n\nThere are more humans up there, on that rock. And with what your subjects can learn from the human's spaceship, the kingdom will soon have a way to get there.\n\nYour lips pull back in a grin. Long live the Queen.\n\n''THE END...?''\n\n//YOUR SCORE IS: Ten. Nothing can stop you now.//\n

Beverly leads you out of the suite and through a series of twisting, turning passages that snake through the bowels of the horse hive. You try to keep track of the route in case you need to make a quick escape, but after the fourteenth (or fifteenth?) turn you're absolutely lost. One thing appears to be certain: you're definitely headed downwards. You follow Beverly down stairwell after stairwell, and soon even the hallway floors start sloping noticeably, the walls giving way from wood to stone. It's very quiet down here, except for a dim, almost sub-sonic throbbing that seems to pull you towards its source. \n\nYou're about to ask Beverly if it's some sort of furnace when you reach a tall, pitch-black door set into the rock. Beverly knocks in a curious halting pattern, and after a while a tiny hatch in the door slides open. //"Did you bring the initiate?"//, says someone on the other side in a rough, gravelly whisper.\n\nDespite the overwhelmingly eerie and menacing nature of the whole situation, the words still rise to the tip of your tongue. Almost unconsciously, you set them free.\n\n\n[[Sounds like they're a little hoarse]]

Working for the queen initially seems a little stomach-churning to you, but it wouldn't be without benefits. If you're going to be stuck here for a while, you might as well make friends with the ones who call the shots. It'd be better than the people back at base who crammed you into a faulty-ass spaceship and sent you on this suicide mission, in any case.\n\nYou notice Beverly is breathing heavily as she has you locked in her tractor-beam gaze. You ask her if there might not be some sort of more personal self-interest involved in her proposal. She tears her eyes away from you, contorting her face in anxiety, and the tip of her dick quivers. "I-I'm sorry," she stammers out. "I've just... I've never been so //close// to one of your kind before. I've always wondered... what it'd be //like...//"\n\nYou lean in to kiss her. Before you can, though, she yanks you down by your arm, grabs the back of your head to hold it in place, and starts kissing you, deeply, passionately.\n\n[[Yowza]]

You enter the horse hive. It appears to be a maze of vast main hallways and passages, with smaller halls and rooms branching off of them. As you're led down the hall, you can see into some of the rooms, which all contain horses-- sleeping, eating, working, fucking, or a mix of any of those four. It reminds you a little of Moon Base Prime, except that 1. everyone here actually looks like they know and enjoy what they're doing, and 2. there doesn't seem to be even close to the same regard for modesty and decency. Aidan and Maximus lead you to the very center of the hive's labyrinth: the throne room.\n\n[[Enter throne room]]

"The great thing about our species," Quentin continues, "is that we produce our own lubricant. I mean, you humans do, too, but not at //nearly// the same volume, and not for the //variety// of applications that we--"\n\nYeah, yeah, one thousand and one uses. You're already aware of this, you interrupt. What's the idea?\n\n"We-ell, since you're back there, and I'm up here... I mean, this is sort of awkward to ask, but..." Quentin crosses his legs, then uncrosses them in front of you. "Would you maybe... rim me a little? Just enough to make me climax."\n\nYou give a hard stare to the ass looming in front of you. Beneath that tail is a puckered, juicy ring of meat about the size of a Powdered Donette, surrounding a hole that leads back into Quentin's... //interior//. His posterior interior. These //are,// you have to admit, some pretty desperate measures.\n\n"If you're not into this, I understand. I promise you won't have to for very long. I'm something of a hair trigger when it comes to this kind of thing." Quentin squirms, and his cheeks relax a little. The hole un-puckers a bit, opening as if to invite you in. "Please! It might be our only chance of getting off here!" A pause. "//Out!// I mean getting //out// of here!"\n\nBetter get to work, space cadet.\n\n[[Lick the horse butthole]]\n[[WOW GROSS]]

You grab the container and tilt a corner of it into your mouth. Thick, gooey fluid flows across your tongue and down your throat, warming your stomach. It tastes sweet with just a touch of salt, like rich caramel. Soon you feel your entire body tingling and heating up. \n\nYour skin stretches. Your bones grow. Thick ropes of muscle and gobs of fat deposit themselves on you in strange new places. Your hands feel like they're burning as your fingers fuse together and reshape themselves into massive hooves. You fall to all fours, and you feel something huge and heavy sprout from between your legs. Hair blooms out across your skin. You try to cry out in pleasure, but all you can manage is a whinny.\n\nWhereas before you were a tiny, fragile human, you're now a dreadnought of a workhorse, a truck-sized meaty Clydesdale quadruped with a cock that could sink ships. You roll onto your back next to Aidan and Maximus, who look up and notice your transformation.\n\n"Say, gents," you say, nodding your head in the direction of your swollen, throbbing dong. "Mind lending a hoof here?"\n\n[[Help them help you]]

You unfasten the clips that hold you in your SLUMBERPOUCH^^TM^^ and float towards the front of the ship's cabin. You need to make sure you're properly prepared and equipped for the mission. If there was one thing that got drilled into your head back at Base Prime, it was that failure was absolutely, totally, really 100% not an option.\n\nThe most pressing thing to do would probably be to check the instrument panel and make sure the ship is heading on the proper trajectory. Another smart move might be to inventory the supplies and equipment you plan on bringing on your mission. And then there's always the option of rubbing one out to get the day started, because you were forbidden from touching yourself for the last three years of training. They didn't want you getting distracted on this most important of missions.\n\n[[Check the controls]]\n[[Make an inventory]]\n[[Look I have personal needs okay]]

You try to rise out of your fugue to shout for help, but all you can manage is a helpless little moan. The priestess is now gently pushing you into her with her hands, her throat pulling you in by inches as it picks up the chamber's throbbing rhythm. She's opened herself up for attack, surrounded you with tender fleshy parts; it'd be so easy for you to fight //back//, but you're so hooked into that pulse that you can't do anything but enjoy wave after sparkling wave of pleasure crashing against your brain. \n\nHer tongue wraps around your body, pinning your arms to your sides and pushing back your chin as it tortures your nipples. Soon you're in up to your chest, then your shoulders, and then, almost theatrically, she pushes your head down into her with one finger. \n\nYou slide downwards into a dark place. It's wet and hot in there, and you're squeezed on all sides by the priestess's insides. It's not unpleasant, though, and you can still feel the pulse gently contracting and relaxing around your body. You feel a bizarre sense of calm. Since the terrifying spaceship accident and the subsequent culture shock of the horse hive, this is the first place where you've felt truly safe. You slip peacefully into unconsciousness, dissolving in the priestess's embrace.\n\nThe priestess rubs her swollen, distended belly and lets out a little burp of satisfaction. In a couple hours, once her body has time to break the human down into basic genetic material, she'd have to have her acolytes milk it out of her and spread it to others in the hive. Soon the visitor's sacred genes would be shared by hundreds of thousands of horses. "I declare this ceremony a resounding success," she proclaims. "The human will become one with us. Our queen will be overjoyed. And," she says offhandedly, wiping an errant fleck of drool off the corner of her mouth, "I haven't eaten something that //exotic// in //ages.//"\n\n''THE END''\n\n//YOUR SCORE IS: Five. Hell of a way to go, don't you think? Unless you're...// into //this kind of thing.//

[u] Nobody cares. You're shackled to a pit in the center of the stadium. A giant beefy centaur man comes out and lowers his body onto you, pinning you there. Everyone else in the stadium starts jacking off, and the cum flows down through channels in the floor and starts filling up the pit. You have one last idea, but it's pretty desperate and you don't know if it'll work.\n\n[[Embrace oblivion]]\n[[Fuck it, I'm THAT desperate]]

You realize your struggling isn't going to get you anywhere, and you settle for dangling limply from your chains, panting heavily from exertion and from weirdness overload. Today has been a hell of a day. \n\n"You never told us what you were in for," says the... well, //obviously// she's a pegasus. Obviously. Since it's not like you have anything better to do, you recount your story of the crash, your capture, and how you royally pissed off the queen. All three of your cellmates start laughing. "Too classic!", says the pegasus. "Everyone down here says humans have too much of a rod up their asses to pull anything like that. It's good to have you here, friend." \n\nYou ask the pegasus what //they're// in for.\n\n"Oh, we're genetic aberrations," she replies offhandedly. "It's horse law that we can only mate with sentient species. Otherwise--"\n\n"So goes the //theory,//" interrupts the unicorn.\n\n"Right, whatever," continues the pegasus, "it's //theorized// that too much crossbreeding with non-sentients would corrupt the gene pool. Anyone whose DNA accidentally gets tangled up with a non-sentient gets chained up down here so their chromosomes don't accidentally find their way into the general public." \n\nThe unicorn chimes in again. "It's all a bunch of fascist hooey, basically. They haven't even //tested// that theory! It's just a thinly veiled superstition fed to the masses by the fearmongerers at the top of the political system!" \n\n"I don't know about //that//," says the pegasus. "But I do think we should've been assessed on a case-by-case basis. Do you know how I got down here? I ate a bird. //Completely// on accident, I'll add." \n\nYou don't make any effort to hide your grimace of digust.\n\n"Look, I was out running, enjoying myself, when //suddenly// this dumbass bird flies right into my mouth! I nearly choked! My only choice was to hork it down, and when I woke up the next morning, I had //these.//" The pegasus rustles her wings, annoyed. "I can't even fly with them or anything. They're completely biologically inappropriate." \n\n"At least I'm not //ashamed// of my uniqueness, Rosemary," says the unicorn. \n\nThe pegasus-- Rosemary-- rolls her eyes. "Milo here had sex with a narwhal," she tells you. \n\n"Completely consensually!" the unicorn-- Milo-- shouts. "Marine mammals are as sentient of a species as humans! They have larger brains capable of higher level thought, they form complex societal structures within pods-- they have a //language,// for God's sake! The idea that man was the only intelligent life form on Earth is a criminally outdated and narrow-minded notion!" You guess Milo's cellmates have heard this little speech many, many times before. \n\n"Yeah, but did he ever call you afterwards?" says Rosemary. Milo sneers at her. You ask her what the guy across from you got mixed up with.\n\n"Keith? Well, there was him, and then there was one of your native human-domesticated horses." She glances over at Keith, then shudders and turns back to you. "You really, //really// don't want to know the details." \n\n"Bessssst ssseven hoursss of my life," hisses Keith. He's grinning wistfully. You think he is, anyways. \n\n"The point //is//," Milo says, "every one of us in this room has been unduly oppressed by our ruling body. As weird as it is to say, human, you're lucky you got sentenced to Incredible Death //today.//" \n\nAnd why's that, you ask. \n\n"Because now you can help us overthrow the monarchy!", he replies giddily. \n\nA block of stone slides out of the wall and clunks to the floor. \n\n[[Um, what]]

It's a long room with a high ceiling, carved roughly out of the rock. The floor of the chamber is flooded with a couple inches of water. On top of the water, round glass bulbs containing candles float freely. The result is very pretty to look at, but covers everything else in the room with murky, constantly shifting shadows. The deep throbbing seems to be coming from somewhere in here, though you can't see where, and with every pulse the water eddies and ripples, reshuffling the candles' positions.\n\nThere's a dry, raised pathway leading down the center of the chamber. On either side of it stand horses wearing black robes with heavy hoods, their faces obscured in shadow. The black hoods are a touchstone of familiarity for you, so recognizable as to be clichéd, and suddenly everything else snaps into focus: This is some kind of fucked-up sexy alien cult. And you're probably about to die. \n\nBeverly takes your hand and walks you down the pathway towards the light at the other end. The horses start chanting, something low and rhythmic that feels like it's seeping into your bone marrow. You want to scream and run, but the chanting and the weird throbbing are making it very hard for you to concentrate on //anything//. All you can do is follow.\n\n[[Follow]]

So dinner was incredible. \n\nYour entire life up until this point has taught you to regard food as a necessity, not a pleasure-- fuel for the body and nothing more. Meals back on Base Prime were mostly pulped, homogenized, re-textured and artificially nutrient-enhanced. What little fruits and vegetables they were able to grow in the hydroponic gardens usually had to get spread thin over the entire base's staff. Science-wise, the base's food engineers knew how to keep everyone in peak physical condition, but eating the same block of gritty paste got to you every day.\n\nThe horses, meanwhile, put a lot more care and artistry into their cuisine, and their ingredients were from far fresher sources. Each course was a uniquely intense flavor profile of daringly contrasted tastes and textures, resulting in the most overwhelmingly vivid meal you've had in your life. The only thing you //didn't// try was the thick, suspiciously viscous salad dressing-- you didn't like how it seemed to make some of the other dinner guests' features shift around on their faces. \n\nRight now you're stretched out on a bed in the spacious guest suite, watching the sun slowly sink behind the mountains through the room's floor to ceiling windows. Your extra-padded, ballistics- and puncture-proof HELLGEL^^TM^^-lined inner suit felt uncomfortably tight after dinner, so you've taken it off, and are laying around in nothing but your trademark-less space unmentionables. //Fuck it,// you reason, //nobody else here cares if they're naked, right?// You idly fondle yourself as you feel the warm, heavy lump of food slowly melt in your stomach. Diplomacy wasn't so bad, when you got right down to it.\n\nThe door quietly clicks, and you notice Beverly enter. After some time around her, you're getting better at keeping your ears open.\n\n[[Talk to Beverly]]

It's a huge, open atrium that extends the entire height of the hive, topped by a domed ceiling made out of (what looks to you, anyways) like frosted glass. There are a handful of other guards, all of them different hybrids of horse and human but otherwise dressed like Aidan and Maximus, keeping watch around the perimeter. Most of the space in the room is taken up by the queen, propped up on her rump in the center. \n\nShe's vast, maybe about forty or fifty feet tall, and her hide is an inky black. She's only horse-shaped in the vaguest sense of the concept, the sort of horse H.R. Giger would draw-- all extra eyes and ears and limbs and breasts and weird fleshy protrusions. Her back is a writhing, pulsating network of black tendrils that extends out through the hive and into a couple dozen tunnels cut into the floor. Like every horse, she has a massive dick, but this one is improbably, //unfeasibly// massive, something around the size of a city bus. It extends out in front of her, limp but still shooting out the occasional spray of genetic fluid. You notice there should be a pair of wrecking-ball sized testicles to match, but instead she just has a bulging sphincter beneath her cock that keeps squeezing out what look a hell of a lot like giant eggs. \n\nShe's not a queen in any human sense of the word; any gender-specific thinking is totally irrelevant to the entire horse species. But you remember the documentary on insect societies you watched back in biology class. The horse queen isn't too dissimilar to the queen in an ant hill or termite mound. All around her are a team of small, lithe horses-- all of them identical, all of them wearing golden arm and leg sleeves as well as copious jewelry. They're tending to the queen: bathing her, massaging her cock, keeping her tendrils straightened, and sundry other tasks. //They must be the drones,// you think, //and the guards are the soldiers. Everyone else here is a worker horse. Everyone has their place.// You watch one of the smaller helper horses roll an egg off into a side room and ask Aidan where she's taking it. \n\n"To the incubators," says another small helper horse, whom you only notice just now is standing next to you. "Soon they'll hatch into full adults, but for now they're still in the gestation stages." Jesus, how do these things move so quietly?\n\n[[Talk to the horse]]

The satellite fractures your main hull and tears off half of your retro-boosters. You veer wildly off course and start to drop towards Earth like a brick.\n\n[[AAAAAAAH OH GOD AAAAGHH]]

Surprise! It's actually //completely great.// \n\nQuentin gasps and shivers as you bury your face deep between his warm, pillowy ass cheeks, kneading them gently like bread dough. He wriggles and moans as you run your wet little tongue around the edge of his swollen opening. There's a deeply organic odor, but it's not as pungent as you were expecting-- just a crunchy, slightly sour smell cut with some sort of brisk-smelling soap. It scratches some ancestral memory in your mind-- when people in books describe the smell outside after a thunderstorm, you imagine it must've been something like this. \n\n"I'm starting to pre-cum," says Quentin shakily. "Keep going! God, keep going!" \n\nYou keep working his asscheeks as you start licking his inner thighs, slowly, tantalizingly. Quentin whines, his hooves banging on the floor of the vent. You kind of want to see how long you can torture him. Getting out of this vent would be nice, but it's not like you're in a race or anything.\n\n[[Torture him]]

Behind you are two horses. Shit. //Shiiiiit.// \n\nLike everything else so far here on Earth, you've seen photos and film footage of them, but any recordings pale in comparison to seeing them in the flesh. \n\nHorses come in a lot of different configurations, but these two are built off the same basic bipedal model: human-shaped bodies with horse heads, hides and (at the end of the legs) hooves. The one talking is about six foot six, you estimate, and chestnut-colored, with a toned, athletic build. The other one is easily seven feet tall, dappled gray and built like a Sherman tank made of muscle. Both of them are wearing armor-- a shoulder pauldron here, a wrist guard there-- but it's very scant and appears to be mostly cosmetic, maybe to signify stations of office. \n\nYou only notice this //after// you notice their species' most distinguishing features: their improbably enormous genitals, which dangle languidly between their legs without any regard given to decency or even basic biology. Chestnut's dick is humanoid, and wouldn't seem too out of place if it wasn't the size of an arm and growing out of some sort of horse-man amalgam. Gray's dick is, you are almost relieved to observe, a much more congruous flared-cylinder horse model.\n\n"Welcome to our kingdom, human!" announces Gray in a booming, haughty tone. "We are here to escort you to our queen."\n\nAnd just who might you be, you ask.\n\n"Horse World patrol scouts, naturally." Gray stands a little more at attention. "133rd Unit, the Southeastern Range. My partner is called Aidan. I am called Maximus." \n\n[[I can see why]]

Stomping your hooves and snorting wildly, you feel the pressure in your brain building more and more until, finally, mercifully, it bursts. A torrent of cum explodes out of your cock and drenches the stall in sticky white bliss. Aidan screams, gives one final powerful thrust, and empties his balls into you, while Maximus soaks your back in gooey, pungent jizz. In your mind, you keep pulling your dick's trigger until you're empty, spitting out jet after jet of seed until it finally goes limp.\n\nFor a minute, you three stand in the stall panting, trying to catch your breath. Maximus leans down and lovingly scratches your thick, beefy neck, while Aidan starts gently kneading your rump. "You're not half bad at this, beast," Maximus says to you, leaning over to speak in your ear as he runs his hand through your mane. "How'd you like this to be your job around here? Indefinitely? Starting around... I dunno, like ten minutes from now?"\n\nAidan snorts. "Ten? Shit, I'm hard again already."\n\nYou waggle your head and snort with pleasure. You can't possibly think of anything you'd rather do than get off, right here in this stall, with your two best friends. Forever.\n\n''THE END''\n\n//YOUR SCORE IS: Four.// Neeeeigh.

You decide to leave your helmet on. You haven't confirmed whether Earth is truly safe yet. Your handheld computer that ran all the tests for that is back in the ship with the rest of your inventory, encased in insulating, cushioning SAFE-T-FOAM^^TM^^. Staring at the thick layer of foam oozing out of the emergency hatch like rising bread dough, you wonder how the hell you're going to get to any of your supplies.\n\nIf you had your MONDOTOOL MK. IV^^(trademark pending)^^, you would be able to make short work of clearing the foam from the cabin, but, you realize with growing frustration, it's back in the ship with everything else. Clearing the foam by hand would take hours, and that's not a luxury you have right--\n\n"What happened here? Is anyone injured?"\n\nThe voice is smooth, deep, and sounds way, way closer than you were expecting.\n\n[[Turn around]]

Beverly pauses to give you an incredibly hard stare. \n\n"Yes, they're right here," she whispers back through the hatch. \n\n//"And will they choose to integrate, or be integrated?"// whispers the voice.\n\nBeverly looks at you expectantly. You ask her what you're supposed to do here. Why hasn't anyone bothered to explain this to you so far? Which answer is the better one? Does it even make a //difference?//\n\n"Either answer is better depending on your point of view, but yes, it definitely //does// make a difference. Look, this isn't a hard question. Just pick one or the other and you can get it over with." She seems a little impatient beneath her crisp demeanor. You'd better decide quick. "Integrate, or be integrated?"\n\n[[Integrate]]\n[[Be integrated]]

The two guards march you deeper and deeper into the horse hive, through tight hallways and down winding spiral staircases. There's very little lighting down here, and the walls are built from imposingly rough-hewn stone. On a list of places you'd like to be at the moment, "horse dungeon" is ranking pretty low.\n\nYou think back to when you ran into Maximus and Aidan, and realize you might be able to use some of their horniness to your advantage. A plan starts to develop like a photograph in the darkroom of your mind. It could get you out of here... but it also might lead to even //more// trouble.\n\n\n[[Bribe them]]\n[[Sulk]]

You push gently against the wall and float towards the cockpit. Oxygen and temperature levels appear normal, and fuel reserves look reasonably full for this stage in the mission. You're charted to re-enter the atmosphere at a gentle angle, slicing through miles and miles of potentially lethal air like a knife through butter. \n\nOr that was the plan, anyways. Trouble is, the "WEIGHT LIMIT EXCEEDED" button is flashing on and off. Your ship was precisely calibrated to hold so much cargo-- any more and it'll veer off course and drop like a brick mid-landing. You command the computer to run a quick diagnostic of the ship. What could be throwing you off?\n\n[[Yeah, WHAT]]

You realize the gun is back in the ship with the rest of your inventory, encased in insulating, cushioning SAFE-T-FOAM^^TM^^. Staring at the thick layer of foam oozing out of the emergency hatch like rising bread dough, you wonder how the hell you're going to get to any of your supplies.\n\nIf you had your MONDOTOOL MK. IV^^(trademark pending)^^, you would be able to make short work of clearing the foam from the cabin, but, you realize with growing frustration, it's back in the ship with everything else. Clearing the foam by hand would take hours, and that's not a luxury you have right--\n\n"What happened here? Is anyone injured?"\n\nThe voice is smooth, deep, and sounds way, way closer than you were expecting.\n\n[[Turn around]]

You're in another big, open room, but that's about all of the similarities it shares with the guard offices. This one is lined with wood, and there's a row of small windows circling the room up near the ceiling. The floor of the room has been divided into a wide central hallway with partitioned wooden stalls facing it on both sides. At the end of the hallway is a pair of large doors with small windows set into them, through which you can see daylight. The floor is lined with hay, and the room smells like freshly cut cedar mixed with some sort of crunchy, vaguely agricultural scent. \n\nYou've lived your whole life on a moon base, so you've never seen any room like this before, but you've watched a lot of movies and TV up there, and it sets off some faint alarms in your memory. What did they use this place for? Some kind of... jail for animals or something?\n\nAidan opens a stall and leads you into it, while Maximus rummages around in a wooden cupboard by the outer door. He pulls out a complicated-looking pile of leather straps and buckles, then a saddle, and then what looks like a bridle, submerged in a plastic container full of thick, translucent goop. The whole situation suddenly snaps into focus, and those alarms in your brain crank themselves to full volume. "It's about time the office got a new dumb pack animal," he says with a widening grin. \n\n[[D A M M I T]]

It looks like you might be able to pull this mission out of the garbage after all. These horses are already practically eating out of the palm of your hand. All you need to use is a little ambassadorial finesse. \n\nYou compliment the queen on her impressive hive, on her devoted staff who found you, and on the vibrant and dynamic tapestry of horse culture you've seen so far. It would be an incredible honor to stay as a guest of the horse queen, you say. You don't know how sensitive these creatures' bullshit meters are, so you lay it on thick, just to be safe. You do wish you still had those peppermints on you, though.\n\n"Then it's settled!" Beverly claps her hands. Four of her carbon-copies dash over and sweep you off your feet, each grabbing one of your limbs. "You shall stay in the finest guest rooms in the hive. But first... a celebratory feast!" You're carried off helplesly in the arms of the cheering horses.\n\n[[Later that night...]]

You can't risk infection. Not now, not here. Your hunger for discovery beats out your hunger for cock. You tell Maximus thanks but no thanks, that you're not really feeling it at the moment, and if he could just be a dear and kindly lead the way to the hive, that'd be peachy. He scowls. "Suit yourself, primate," he mutters as he lowers you back down.\n\nThe horse hive is just on the other side of a shallow ridge that marks the westward edge of the valley. Maximus remains silent for the rest of the trip, but you manage to strike up some small talk with Aidan. You ask how few horses are left on the planet. "How few?" he replies. "Where did you ever get the idea there were just a //few// of us? If anything our population //boomed// after the humans left. Your loss, really." You crest the top of the ridge and start hiking down the other side.\n\nFrom this distance you can see the horse hive. It's a vast, white, airy structure, more similar to an office block than the castle you were half-expecting. The architecture looks eerily organic, with moss, shrubs and even trees integrated into it. As you get closer, you see it's built out of a stone and wood structure held together with some sort of light, roughly-caulked white stuff. You ask Aidan what the stuff is. He just chuckles cryptically. "They say it has a thousand and one uses. Let us know if you want any... samples."\n\nYou suspect getting clumsily hit on by sexy horses is going to be a constant during your visit.\n\n\n[[Gee whiz]]

The throbbing in your head is deafening now. It feels like it's riding up and down your entire body in waves. Your rational brain is still switched on somewhere in there, but all it can do is bang at the controls and scream helplessly as you take a lick from the priestess's fingers. \n\nThe effect is immediate. You feel like you're getting stretched out and crushed under a heavy weight at the same time. Your bones and muscles feel like they're on fire as they bend and reknit themselves into a new, unfamiliar shape. You start sweating uncontrollably as a silky new layer of hair pushes itself up through your skin. Your underwear bulges outward before finally bursting apart from the load of your massive new horse member. \n\n"Here, let me help you with that," says the priestess. "The change goes a lot easier when your mind isn't on it." She picks you up as if you weigh nothing and lifts you onto her belly. She guides your cock to her mouth and starts gently massaging its tip with her lips in time to the chamber's throbbing. The pressure on your body eases, as all the pain seems to flow out of your dick like champagne from a bottle. \n\nYou lose yourself in each churning thrust. Her hot, musky breath caresses your face, her firm hands slowly knead your ass, and her lips and tongue tease every nerve ending in your cock, your synapses burning like an endless firework show. You're so lost in the pure, sheer physicality of the experience. You can't think. You can't process what's going on. All you can do is //be//, to exist as this pinnacle of sexual release, possibly forever. \n\nYou don't notice that she's eating you until your legs are already halfway down her throat. And by then it's far, far too late.\n\n[[Uh oh]]

Um, //hello?// These horses are the reason the last scraps of humanity are cooped up on the moon. You didn't come here to //reason// with them. You tell the queen to kindly piss up a rope.\n\nA dead silence falls over the throne room. The queen lolls her giant head back and forth and peels her lips back to reveal big, square teeth. You don't //think// she can reach down here. You //hope,// anyways. Beverly shoots you a cold glare.\n\n"So this is human diplomacy? We save you, an old enemy, from your ship's twisted wreckage. Instead of attacking you at your most vulnerable, we bring you into our hive and introduce you to our queen. And you thank us by insulting her?" You shrug. It's not like you //wanted// to come here. Beverly continues. "Normally there is no price for speaking your mind in our kingdom. But there //is// a punishment for disrespecting our sacred and beautiful queen," she says, raising her voice so that the whole chamber can hear, "a punishment we call... Incredible Death!" \n\n"INCREDIBLE DEATH! INCREDIBLE DEATH! INCREDIBLE DEATH!" chant the horses in the throne room. The queen rocks back and forth, flailing around some of her vestigial hooves. She looks pretty riled up. "Take this //visitor// away," snarls Beverly to Aidan and Maximus. "Give him a scenic tour of our hive's picturesque dungeons. And then leave him down there for the night."\n\nAidan and Maximus each grab one of your shoulders and march you down a side hall. \n\n[[Smooth move, Ex-Lax]]

You step into the chamber. At first you delicately tiptoe around the tendrils, but then your foot slips and you accidentally nudge one with your toe. It just sits there. You nudge it again. No response. You give it a kick and it flops to the side like a piece of heavy rope. Maybe these tendrils are dead, you think, or disconnected or something. In any case, danger doesn't seem to be imminent. You carelessly clamber over the coils of tendrils covering the floor and start making your way up the side of the pile. \n\nThe tendrils are warm, and they feel like they're pulsating slightly. So much for these things being dead. They don't resist you, though, and they make for good hand and foot holds as you easily scale the side of the pile towards the grate. Just twelve more feet until you can pop that thing open. Then nine, then six, then three, and then you're sitting on top of the pile, your head brushing the underside of the grate. You can see there's some sort large open stone structure surrounding it on the other side, with rows and rows of seats lining the gently sloped walls. Some kind of a stadium or theater or something? Who cares. Whatever it is, the place is totally deserted. You can't believe your luck.\n\nYou try lifting the grate, but it doesn't budge. You plant your feet firmly on an especially thick tendril and push at the grate with all of your strength. With an earsplitting screech of metal on metal, the grate opens, sending a shower of rust flakes into the chamber. \n\nKeeping the grate lifted with one hand, you reach out to lift yourself out of the chamber, but something whips up and coils itself your hand. It's black and warm and pulsating. You feel the pile shift beneath your feet. \n\n[[Wait what the]]

"Milo? Did I find the right cell?" A tiny flashlight beam sweeps the room, and a horse's face appears at the hole in the wall. \n\n"Quentin! Thank goodness! Yes, I'm in here, plus the two I've been telling you about. And," Milo winks at you, "we just had a third join our cause." \n\nNow hold on just a minute, you say. You haven't agreed to anything yet. You've only been back on Earth for half a day, so how is any of this your problem? \n\n"It's your chance to change things down here for the better!", cries Milo. "To right the injustices that have been perpetrated against us, and to build a new and more tolerant kingdom! Maybe even," he says pleadingly, "one where humans might be able to live alongside horses peacefully?" \n\n"Plus, it's the only chance you have to escape this cell and skip your Incredible Death appointment tomorrow," says Rosemary. Quentin is busy shoving stone blocks out of the wall. Behind him is a dark, roughly dug tunnel. \n\nYou consider your options. You don't really want to get caught up in some sort of coup d'etat, but you don't really want to die, either. Can you really trust these screwballs? Do you have any choice?\n\n[[This isn't my problem]]\n[[Count me in]]\n

And how would //you// know? Have you ever //tried it?// Maybe it's fun. Maybe it's //just// the kind of thing you'd be into. Life is too short to never try new things, right?\n\nBesides, if you don't you'll never know, because you're boring, and because you'll die in a tiny crawlspace deep underground. But mostly because you're //boring.//\n\n[[Lick the horse butthole]]\n[[Man, I don't know...]]

Your expertly honed, almost cobra-like astroanuautical reflexes snap into action. In one fluid motion, you swiftly knee Maximus in the junk-- not enough to do lasting damage to that work of art, just something to rattle him-- and headbutt the bridle into his mouth right as he starts shouting. Aidan startles and recoils from you briefly; you take the opportunity to wriggle out of his grip and tighten the bridle harness tight around Maximus's head. \n\n"HRRNNGHH!" Maximus starts clawing at his restraints, but his eyes quickly turn from angry to dazed to dullened, and his arms go slack at his sides. "Hrrnnnhh... hhhnn... mmhh..." It looks like he's obsessively sucking all the slime off that bridle. He drops to all fours, his body swelling and shifting, new muscles bulging off of his stocky frame. It's kind of hot to watch, you have to admit to yourself. Watching his fingers fuse into hooves isn't so hot, however. You climb over him and unfasten the bridle, telling him he's had about enough. He whines like a lost puppy and starts fruitlessly rubbing his hooves against his now cannon-sized horse cock. \n\nYou turn to Aidan and ask why he hasn't stopped or restrained you yet, but his eyes are fixed on Maximus. Horses obviously can't blush, but if they could, you feel certain Aidan would be turning crimson. You tell him he can join Maximus, but only if he does //exactly// what you say. He's a military type, he //must// be good at following orders, right? "Now first," you tell him, dangling the dripping bridle in front of his eyes, "I need you to open wide."\n\n[[Turn the tables]]

[u] You start licking and sucking the centaur's balls. He breaks his stoicism and starts getting visibly excited. As your body dissolves and changes shape you start blowing him, chugging gallons of his cum. Soon you're a centaur just like him. This is daring and unprecedented. Nobody gives the executioner a blowjob.\n\n[[WELL I DID]]

You tell her it's very polite of her to ask, but you can't commit to anything right now. Your ship will be repaired in a manner of days, and you want to stay on good terms with the queen until then. It's best for the both of you that you just head out to whatever tonight's shindig is, which hey, by the way, you ask: just what the heck did the queen mean by "integration"?\n\nShe tilts her head and gives you a sad little smile. "Such a shame," she whispers with a sigh. "But don't tell anyone I said that. Follow me, traveller." You get the sneaking suspicion that she's in on something you aren't. Or a big, loud, stomping suspicion, actually.\n\nYou get off the bed and reach for your spacesuit, but Beverly interrupts you. "Don't worry about that. You're perfectly fine as you are. In fact," she says, sliding back into her measured informational voice, "the less you wear to the ceremony, the smoother it'll go."\n\n\n[[Head to the ceremony]]

The light soon resolves itself into an opulent, heavily upholstered throne, surrounded by candles. On the throne is a very large horse-- not nearly as vast or as mind-melting to look at as the queen, but still imposing. You guess he's maybe around nine feet tall, with enough thick, enticing curves to make rulers bend out of jealousy. His hide is a creamy white, on top of which a complex network of glowing blue patterns are painted. \n\n"This is the visitor in question?" he asks Beverly. "Yes, Priest," Beverly replies. The large horse leans up in his throne and speaks in a louder voice, "Then let the ceremony commence. Approach, initiate, and drink deep from our sacred legacy." He reaches down to his swollen cock, impressive even by horse standards, and wipes up a glob of precum from its tip with his fingers. He takes a lick of the pre himself, momentarily relishing the taste, then extends his hand and offers the rest to you. "C'mon," he says to you. "Have some while it's still warm." He actually //winks.//\n\nYour mind keeps asking yourself what in God's name you've gotten yourself into. But your feet keep moving towards him.\n\n[[Go ahead, have some]]

Desperate times call for desperate measures. You plant one hand on each cheek of his rump and try to give him a firm shove. It's no use, though-- he doesn't budge an inch, and you slide backwards. If you could flip around, you might be able to press against the walls with your hands for traction while pushing him with your feet, but this duct is tight, and you're no contortionist. You tell Quentin you're out of ideas, unless he might happen to have a couple sticks of butter on him. \n\n"No," says Quentin. "But that gives me an idea. I'll warn you, though, it's a bit..." \n\nDesperate?, you ask. \n\n"More or less," he replies. You can't see his face, but you can hear the sheepish grin creep into his voice.\n\n[[Hmmmm]]

She pushes you backwards as you lock lips, and it's all you can do to steady yourself against her passion by leaning against the room's massive, ornate oaken writing desk. She's working her tongue into your mouth, a warm, silky interloper searching every inch of your palate. As you meet it with yours, you start to feel warm all over, which gradually turns into a prickly burning sensation that seems to seep through your muscles and sink into your bones. \n\nAfter what seems like forever, your mouth breaks with hers, and you just lean there weakly, gasping and shaking. Something about you feels profoundly //off//, you realize, like you've just noticed an extra limb you never knew you had. Which, you realize, looking down to feel the heavy, throbbing horse cock between your legs, is really more or less the case. Beverly notices it too, and backs away.\n\n"I'm sorry... I, er, I didn't mean to. My saliva... it must've..." Her dick, evidently getting signals from somewhere else, thickens and rises. "God, you wear it so //well//, though," she whispers. "We could be //beautiful// together."\n\nYou feel your cock start to rise as well, hot precum leaking from its fleshy tip. You pull her close.\n\n[[Get beautiful together]]

You push his stomach down in time with the room's overpowering pulsations, then his hips. You run your tongue along his cock, hot, quivering, and so soaked in precum it's practically marinated in it. You suspect the priest is having as good of a time as you are. His ass follows, warm and chewy like twin loaves of freshly-baked bread, and then his stocky legs. At long last, you theatrically push his feet down into your gullet with one finger. \n\nYou look down at yourself, letting out a little burp of satisfaction. You've collapsed into the throne for support-- there's no way your legs can hold yourself up with all this extra weight. Your stomach stretches out in front of you, ludicrously distended; you can feel the priest in there, drifting off into sleep as your insides nuzzle and caress him. In time, he'll be broken down into raw genetic material, and your balls are already starting to tingle and fill with his thick, syrupy essence. You'll have to get your acolytes to milk him out of you and spread it to the rest of the hive later, but first you need their help for something else. \n\n"I declare this ceremony a resounding success," you proclaim, kneading your warm, swollen belly as the blue patterns start to glow brighter and brighter on it. "Our queen will be overjoyed. Now, come over here and massage me-- I haven't eaten something //that// heavy in //ages.//"\n\n''THE END''\n\n//YOUR SCORE IS: Five. Cute, but I'm making a note not to RSVP if you ever "invite me over for dinner".//

"We're in the Hatching Room," Quentin tells you. "This is where we're growing our new queen."\n\nThe room is is a wide stone hallway with a high ceiling. A vast aquarium-sized fish tank fills one entire wall, filled with murky yellowish liquid. Whatever floor space hasn't been taken up by the tank is filled with a half-dozen enormous pieces of totally inscrutable but ominous machinery. A tangle of thick plastic hoses filled with air, water and something sludgy lead into the machines at one end and the tank at the other. It's all very science fiction-y. \n\nYou peer into the glass of the tank, rapping on it with your knuckle. A massive indistinct blood-red shape suddenly lunges out at you through the glass before turning to swim the length of the tank. \n\n"She's only in her larval stage right now," says Quentin. "We've been feeding her royal amino proteins and genetic samples from all over the kingdom, but she's still not ready yet." He glances over at you, meaningfully. "She needs a shot of genetic material from a host species. A //human.// Now, I'm not saying you //have// to do this, but since you're covered in spunk //already...//"\n\nThe creature turns at the far wall of its tank and doubles back towards you. You can make out an enormous black eye, surrounded by a ring of smaller eyes, staring out at you. There's something about the gaze that compels you-- it feels like it's opened a door in your mind to a room you hadn't even noticed there before. \n\nThere's a ladder hanging off the side of the tank. It's strange that you hadn't noticed it there. \n\n[[Anything for the cause]]

You silently wish the aberrants good luck with everything, but you're not on this planet to fight in their revolution. You sneak off to the left, dragging the palm of one hand lightly against a wall to make sure you don't get lost in the darkness.\n\nAfter a ways, though, the tunnel begins to get lighter. You can see a dim shaft of moonlight shining into a chamber ahead of you. You dash down the corridor, but quickly skid to a halt once you realize what's //inside// the chamber.\n\nIt's some sort of central nexus for the queen's "sensory network". A maze of tendrils covered in thick black hide, some as thin as a garden hose, others as thick around as a man, snake out from openings in the walls and across the floor to meet in a giant pile in the chamber's center. Above them is a hinged grate, and through the grate you can see the night sky. Freedom. The only thing separating you from lifting open that grate and busting the heck out of here is that big pile of tendrils. Sure, Quentin told you not to touch them, but what options do you have?\n\n[[Get climbing]]

You thank the horses but turn them down. You've got to pick your battles here, and you're already trying to escape from a death sentence. \n\n"Please!" Milo says, frustrated. "We //need// you! As a human you might be our last hope! We won't be able to--"\n\nKeith lays a hand on Milo's shoulder and puts a finger to his lipless mouth. "Hhhuussh," he says. "The hhuman isssn't jussst an //object//. Rrhhessspect their decccisssion." \n\n"Yeah, I agree with Keith." Rosemary ruffles and refolds her wings. "We might still be able to help you out, though," she says to you. "The main reason they've kept you alive this long is because you're human. Right?" \n\nYou admit you just sort of assumed everyone was mad about you royally cheesing off the queen. \n\n"Oh, //please,//" says Milo. "You really think something as elaborate as Incredible Death is even //necessary// for an //insult?//"\n\nA touch annoyed, you tell him that you don't know how his crazy-ass horse planet works. \n\n"What I figure is they want to put on a big show," says Rosemary. "People haven't seen a human in a long, long time. Killing one publically will be a show of force for the current regime, to keep their subjects from getting disillusioned and turning to rebel groups."\n\n"Like ours!" Milo rubs his chin. "It //is// pretty flattering that they'd go through all the trouble to keep us down, though. We must be doing //something// right."\n\n"Anyways, what I figure is, they're banking on you being human," continues Rosemary, unheeded. "What if we could make sure you //weren't// human?"\n\nYou're not sure you follow.\n\n"Like, what if we just mixed some of our genetic material into you? You wouldn't look //anything// like a human anymore, and there wouldn't be any reason to give you a showy public execution. Hell, you could just head out the tunnels after us and go on the lam. They'd never find you!"\n\nYou ask how they'd go about mixing their genetic material with yours. Milo runs his hand absentmindedly down his shaft. "//We-//ell..." he says.\n\n[[That's just crazy enough to WORK]]\n[[That's just crazy]]\n

The throbbing in your head is deafening now. It feels like it's riding up and down your entire body in waves. Your rational brain is still switched on somewhere in there, but all it can do is bang at the controls and scream helplessly as you take a lick from the priest's fingers. \n\nThe effect is immediate. You feel like you're getting stretched out and crushed under a heavy weight at the same time. Your bones and muscles feel like they're on fire as they bend and reknit themselves into a new, unfamiliar shape. You start sweating uncontrollably as a silky new layer of hair pushes itself up through your skin. Your underwear bulges outward before finally bursting apart from the load of your massive new horse member. \n\n"The first change is always the hardest," says the priest. "The only thing you can really do is take your mind off of it." He picks you up as if you weigh nothing and lifts you onto his belly. "Here," he says softly. "Try some of this." He lifts his arm and presses your nose-- no, wait, your //muzzle//, you realize-- into his soft, moist armpit.\n\nHis smell is complex-- thick, musky, and spicy, like new leather soaked in red wine. Your mouth waters. The transformation must've burned off whatever dinner you had left in you, you realize. Otherwise why would you feel so uncontrollably hungry, like there's a hole in you that urgently needs to get filled?\n\nYou start licking his armpit with your long, flexible new horse tongue. It's not //fair,// you think. He tastes so //delicious.//\n\n\n[[Indulge yourself]]

You slam on the throttle and fire the hell out of those engines. Take that, space junk! Take THAT, extinct phone company! This is humanity's last chance at taking back the planet from its equine conquerors! Oorah, or whatever!\n\nThe satellite burns brighter and brighter as you accelerate towards the planet's surface. But instead of floating away in so many tiny, harmless pieces, it violently explodes as you hit the mesosphere taking your engines out with it. What the fuck did they make these things out of, oily rags and kerosene?\n\nYou start to drop like the aforementioned brick. \n\n[[AAAAAAAH OH GOD AAAAGHH]]

GOOD MORNING, HORSE SLAYER\n\nYour ship's console blinks these words in bright red LED text as its alarm buzzes you awake. It has been three days since you left the moon, and Earth looms large in your window. \n\nToday is the day the mission truly starts. Today is the day you become the first human to re-enter Earth's atmosphere in over a hundred and fifty years. \n\n[[Wait shit what mission]]\n

She starts grinding her hips into you, slowly, deeply, her hands exploring your chest excitedly as her wet, slippery cock rubs up against yours. You reach out to play with her breasts, her nipples heavy and juicy like overripe blackberries, but she stops you. "Not there," she pants. "Touch me down //here.//" She moves your hands down to a second pair of nipples just above the base of her member. You run your finger lightly across them and she lets out an electric, shivering moan.\n\nYou start grinding in time with her. Both you and her wrap a hand around the warm, engorged girth of your two excited cocks. With each pump of your hips, you can feel your testes filling and growing itchier as they inch closer and closer to climax. You wonder if Beverly is feeling the same way, and you reach down to gently grab and squeeze her soft, oversize pair. She does the same for yours, and you both race each other, panting, sweating, groping, and leaking, towards the same bright, sparkling point.\n\n[[!!!]]

Rosemary, Milo and Keith cross the bridge without incident, but you, of course, aren't so lucky. Just as Quentin tells you it's clear to cross, an ominous metal groan rings out from inside the pipe at the top of the room. Like a python on the hunt, an enormous black tendril slithers out of it, scanning the room for prey. It's nearly five feet in diameter, and (maybe unsurprisingly at this point) its tip is dick-shaped. With a single lightning-quick lunge, it smashes apart the bridge, which collapses into the dark water below. Then it turns to look straight at Quentin and you.\n\n"The queen knows we're down here," Quentin whispers. "Follow me. Hurry!" He dashes back into the tunnel you just exited from. You follow, and so does the tendril. Quentin makes a left, a right, and another right, and then dives into a rectangular hole set low in the wall. You follow him, and you feel your feet brush against the tendril's velvety hide as you frantically crawl into your hiding spot, which turns out to be not just a hole but some sort of long, narrow service duct, lined with smooth metal. \n\n"Don't worry, we're safe for now," calls out Quentin from in front of you. You're panting heavily, and you can't stop glancing behind you, looking for more tendrils. The passage you're in is very, very narrow, though, and there's barely enough room for you to turn your head. You thank your lucky stars that astronaut training got rid of any latent claustrophobia you might have. Quentin wriggles forward a little and says, "There's light at the other end. I think I know where this leads! It's just a straight shot right into the breeding room!" \n\nSure enough, as you both crawl down the duct you can see a dim light at the other end, but all it illuminates is Quentin's tail, legs and chubby rear filling your field of vision. Considering how his wide, curvy hips are grinding tightly against the smooth walls of the duct, it's a wonder he's managed to make it this far. But he's probably done this a million times before, and besides, you shouldn't discriminate based on body type, right? \n\nQuentin halts, suddenly. You hear him make some muffled grunting noises as his feet struggle to find some sort of purchase on the duct's seamless lining. "Ah," he says. "I think we may have run into a bit of a problem." \n\nYou ask him if he's stuck. "This is //exactly// why I never use these ducts," he says.\n\n[[Give him a push]]

Before you can think to fight back, more tendrils coil their way around your arms, legs and torso, suspending you in mid-air in the center of the chamber. You wildly thrash around in your struggle to break free, but the tendrils might as well be steel cables for all the good it does. They spread your arms and legs wide, as more tendrils rise up from the floor and into your field of vision. You've never seen the tips of the queen's tendrils before, but at this point you're not //entirely// surprised that they're dick-shaped.\n\nOne winds its way around your torso and pushes itself into your mouth, filling it with some sort of warm, dense liquid that's bitter but sweet at the same time, like really thick coffee. From the corner of your eye you can see the inky black gunk dribbling out of your mouth and down your scantily-clad body. Something shifts and twists uncomfortably inside your abdomen, and you can feel a strangely heavy weight stretching the elastic of your underwear, then snapping it. An enormous jet-black horse cock sprouts from between your legs, expanding and lengthening like a time-lapse film of a mighty oak tree growing from a slender sapling. More tendrils reach up from the floor to wrap around it and caress it, as well as the formidable pair of balls growing beneath it. \n\n[[Hey WHAT THE]]

You lick his armpit clean, then grab hold of his wrist and raise his hand back to your mouth. You wrap your mouth around two of his fingers and let his flavor seep into its every corner. It's even better than licking. You put another finger in your mouth, then another, and before you can realize what you're doing you're up to his wrist. \n\n"Feeling a little peckish today, aren't we?" says the Priest, smirking as he watches you devour him. You want to throw some sort of witty comeback at him, but you can't. It's rude to talk with your mouth full. "Here. It's a little easier if you do it like //this,//", he says, and starts slowly pushing his arm into you, further and further, in a rhythmic cadence that's in time with the room's deep throbbing vibrations. You slide inch after inch, pound after pound of the priest down your hungry throat as it stretches wide to accomodate his formidable size. Something about the whole scenario feels impossible, feels dreadfully wrong, but you can't really put your finger on it. And besides, you're already so focused on filling that hole inside of you. \n\nSoon you've got his head and his other arm into you. Next comes his big, soft, delectable-looking belly. It'll be a bit tricky to swallow it, you think, unhinging your jaw ever wider, but the reward is worth the risk. See? You're approaching this rationally. Nothing weird about it at all.\n\n[[Clean your plate]]

Aidan grabs your rump and slowly nuzzles his stiff, pulsating cock against your tender hole. He scoops more slimy stuff out of the plastic container and slicks up both his dick and your anus, then slides the one rhythmically against the other. You can feel him knocking on the door back there. You relax your ass and open wide to let him in. \n\nHe slides in slowly, carefully, savoring every inch. For an activity that you assume is meant to be humiliating, he's sure making it enjoyable for yourself as much as him. Soon he's up to the hilt in you, and you feel not just filled, but //packed// with his gigantic throbbing thickness. "I'm ready back here," calls Aidan. "How are you doing over there?"\n\nMaximus grabs another handful of slime from the container and greases up his own dick, then hoists himself up to rest in the saddle strapped to your back. He starts stroking his penis, slowly at first but with gaining intensity, occasionally rubbing it against your neck or running it through your mane. Aidan starts pumping himself in and out of you in time with Maximus's strokes. It's a weird feeling to have one horse deeply fucking you and another horse riding you, //but,// you think, //isn't that what you were bred for?// You're not an astronaut or a diplomat or whatever. You're a beast of burden, and your two greatest pleasures in life are bearing heavy loads and blowing heavy loads. \n\nMaximus and Aidan both speed up, and you can feel your balls churn and fill like they're going to burst as Aidan grinds his hot, slippery dick against your tender inner places. You feel the blood pound through your sludgy brain like doors opening and slamming shut. Sooner or later, something has got to give.\n\n[[Full speed ahead]]

You're not dead, luckily. At least you don't //think// so. You hear the emergency cockpit hatch hiss and pop open, and you claw your way through the SAFE-T-FOAM^^TM^^ towards it. \n\nAfter a couple minutes of struggling, you hit daylight. You wrest yourself free from the foam and climb down from the charred, smoking wreck. One way or another, you've made it to Earth. \n\n[[Take a look around]]

You know what? You've just been in an incredibly scary and stressful accident inside a faulty spaceship built by people who don't care about you, and you think taking a break and having some fun would be an excellent idea right about now. You step up close to him, very much inside the realm of personal space, and ask him exactly what he has in mind. You give your pelvis a little grind against his to give him a hint.\n\nHe places his gigantic hands-- so heavy they feel like they're made of concrete, but warm and just a little fuzzy-- on your shoulders and lightly nudges you down to kneel in front of him. Hoisting his member aside, he reveals a swollen, throbbing pair of testicles, a little larger than grapefruits. They look painfully full. They look like something you could help out. \n\n[[Help the poor things]]

You clamber up the ladder and inch out onto a two-foot-wide platform that extends over the tank. There's something churning and frothing in your mind, making it hard to think straight in any direction but one. You dip the end of your hoof in the tank's contents to test the temperature. It sizzles.\n\n"No! Stop!" Quentin is already scaling the ladder after you. "The breeding fluid is //way// too acidic for normal horses like us to survive in it!" He grabs your arm. "I just wanted you to, like, jerk off into it or something! You'll //die// if you jump in there!"\n\nYou say nothing in reply. You just wrestle your arm free of his grip. A long, blood-red tendril slithers out of the tank, wraps itself around your leg, and gently tugs you into the breeding fluid. As your body starts to fizzle and steam, you can faintly hear Quentin's panicked shouts from above the surface.\n\n[[...]]

[u] You enter the execution stadium. There's thousands of horses there, ready to watch this auspicious event. The queen's mouthpiece is there to announce you have been found guilty of being a jerk by the queen and will pay through total genetic dissolution. \n\n[[Plea for mercy]]

Well, you're here to become a part of their culture, right? And you probably earn extra brownie points if you play it like it's a team effort. "Be integrated," you say to Beverly, and she repeats the same through the hatch. \n\nThere's a sound like someone slamming open a gigantic metal deadbolt, which, you realize as the black door slowly creaks open, is in fact exactly what it is. Beverly leads you into the dimly-lit cavern beyond: the Integration Chamber.\n\n[[Enter the Integration Chamber]]

Every traveler knows that the only metric really worth measuring in judging new and strange foreign cultures is how easy or difficult it is to get a good hot shower. In this, the horses have excelled. The shower in the guest suite's bathroom is set automatically at a perfectly relaxing hot-but-not-scalding temperature, and its head is a complicated chrome sailor's knot studded with tiny jets and nozzles that have the cumulative effect of softening your aching muscles like an expert masseuse. It might be a weird thing to get excited about after sex, but you're an astronaut, and showers are //pretty fucking important// to you. Plus, you have a friend to enjoy it with, which is always a bonus.\n\nAfter a long session of gently scrubbing each other (as well as occasionally licking, groping, playful biting, and etcetera) you both finally get out of the shower and towel off. You stand to look at yourselves in the bathroom's heated floor-length mirror, but after a moment you realize you two probably don't even need mirrors anymore. Not only have you changed from human to horse, but you and Beverly are //identical//. \n\nYou share the same height and slender, curvy body shape, and your hides are the same, twin palominos with a slight strawberry blonde tint. You reach up, tentatively, and cup one of your new breasts with your hand. It's warm and it sends a little shiver of pleasure towards your brain when you gently squeeze it. You move your hand down to the second set of breasts just above your groin-- //pelvis titties,// you think to yourself-- and gently knead one, which elicits an even stronger response than the ones on your chest. You turn around to stare at your tail in the mirror, a long, luxurious waterfall of hair that flows down past your luscious posterior and ends halfway towards the delicate little hooves at the end of your legs. \n\n"I hope I don't come off as too vain, but you look //absolutely// fantastic," says Beverly. She pulls two fresh sets of golden arm and leg sleeves out of a drawer, then hands one set to you. "Slip these on and we'll scurry on back to the throne room together." You slide the sleeves on excitedly. You have duties to perform, and the queen mustn't be kept waiting.\n\n''END''\n\n//YOUR SCORE IS: Seven. Eternal servitude is a-okay with you as long as you look good doing it, right?//

After all is said and done, you enjoy being alive. It's a condition you've grown somewhat attached to over the years. You tell the horses that you'll help them with their crazy political imbroglio if they let you down. You actually use the word "imbroglio" in conversation, which unsettles you.\n\nBy now the hole in the wall is wide enough for Rosemary and Keith to easily walk through. Quentin steps out of the tunnel. He's short by horse standards-- a little under six feet tall, you'd guess-- and has a slender upper body that tapers outward down to wide, voluptuous hips. He's an Appaloosa, white but covered in a complex pattern of blotchy mahogany spots. One by one, he starts picking the locks on your fellow prisoners' cuffs, and soon you're sprung from yours as well, rubbing your wrists in relief. \n\nQuentin swings his flashlight to point down the tunnel. It looks like a very long walk through the suffocating darkness. "Everybody follow me," he says. "And please stay close. It's easy to get lost down here." \n\n[[Head into the tunnel]]

[u] You turn them down and they leave, closing the passage behind them. The next morning Aidan and Maximus take you out of the cell and lead you towards the execution stadium.\n\n[[Dead human walking]]

Listen, you say to Maximus, as you try and twist your head around to look at him. We don't //really// have to do this. You tell him you think you three got off on the entirely wrong foot.\n\n"Prisoners aren't allowed to talk," says Aidan. "No, no, let the primate speak," says Maximus. "I think it wants to //bargain// with us." \n\nYes! A bargain, you cry. You scratch their back and they scratch yours. You explain that you know for a fact that you have something they want-- hot, weird human sex-- and you're willing to give them as much as they want in exchange for your freedom. \n\nMaximus looks over at Aidan, who stares back at him. "Well, technically //you're// the commanding officer," Aidan says. "By one lousy rank, but still. What are you thinking?"\n\n"I'm thinking we haven't had a good office stud in a long, long time," replies Maximus. "Make a left here. We're taking a little detour."\n\n[[Take a little detour]]

Pretty soon you've got two massive, beefed-out horse men rolling around on the floor in front of you. They're trying to touch each other, to caress their bulky new curves and pleasure their gargantuan members, but they're severely hindered by their new hoof hands. Right now they're just holding each other tight, locked in an endless series of long, slobbering kisses. You suspect these two have had a capital-H History with each other for some time now.\n\nAgainst all better judgment, you'd really like to get in on that action, but getting between all that horse muscle would probably grind you to paste. If only there were some way...\n\nYou eye the plastic container Maximus pulled the bridle out of. It's still pretty full of mystery slime. You lick your lips.\n\n[[Chug that slime]]\n[[Don't chug that slime]]

"Greetings, esteemed visitor. I am current shift supervisor for the queen's royal retinue and will serve as the queen's mouthpiece today. You may call me Beverly." Beverly gives you a little curtsy. You watch her dick wobble around as she does so. It's long, thick at the base but tapering a little towards the end, and very soft-looking-- //almost elegant,// you think. //Like a piano player's dick.// You wonder where the hell this thought came from.\n\nBeverly continues. "It has been many, many decades since any horse last saw one of your kind. Despite our species' disagreements in the past, we would like to extend an olive branch of friendship to you and to all of humanity. We are willing to assign our top technicians the task of repairing your ship. In the meantime, we invite you to stay with us, to commune with us and share the bounty of our culture." \n\nThe queen shakes her head back and forth slowly and lets out an earsplitting whinny. A glob of cum the size of a monster truck tire shoots out of her dick and smacks against the far wall of the atrium.\n\n"We're all very excited that you're here," says Beverly.\n\nWhat do you say in reply?\n\n\n[[Be diplomatic]]\n[[Get bent, lady]]

The light soon resolves itself into an opulent, heavily upholstered throne, surrounded by candles. On the throne is a very large horse-- not nearly as vast or as mind-melting to look at as the queen, but still imposing. You guess she's maybe around nine feet tall, with enough elegantly dramatic curves to make a Baroque furniture designer gasp and start taking down notes. Her hide is a deep burnt red, on top of which a complex network of glowing orange patterns are painted. \n\n"This is the visitor in question?" she asks Beverly. "Yes, Priestess," Beverly replies. The large horse leans up in her throne and speaks in a louder voice, "Then let the ceremony commence. Approach, initiate, and drink deep from our sacred legacy." She reaches down to her swollen cock, impressive even by horse standards, and wipes up a glob of precum from its tip with her fingers. She takes a lick of the pre herself, momentarily relishing the taste, then extends her hand and offers the rest to you. "C'mon," she says to you. "Have some while it's still warm." She actually //winks.//\n\nYour mind keeps asking yourself what in God's name you've gotten yourself into. But your feet keep moving towards her.\n\n\n[[Have a taste]]

You unzip your space-worthy, airtight, tearproof STEELKLON^^TM^^ outer suit and unfasten your extra-padded, ballistics- and puncture-proof HELLGEL^^TM^^-lined inner suit. Slowly, you slip your hand down into your suit to brush against bare, sweaty skin.\n\nBack on Moon Base Prime they frowned on unnecessary sexual activites of any kind. Anything pursued outside the express purpose of meeting the yearly Infant Quota was considered irresponsible, obscene and dangerously sympathetic to Horse Sentiments. Deep down, in your heart of hearts, you're not sure you agree entirely with this policy.\n\nMaybe you're just an unnaturally horny person, though! You've only been at it for a couple minutes, caressing every lonely square inch of yourself down there, and already you're struggling to keep from climaxing. Three years is a long-ass time, and though there will be many, many more chances for you to enjoy yourself in the privacy of your ship on this mission you want to savor this for as long as you can. \n\nUnfortunately, you're savoring it so much that you don't see the ancient telecommunications satellite blocking your ship's re-entry path until it's too late.\n\n[[CRUNCH]]

YOU'LL LICK THE HORSE BUTTHOLE AND LIKE IT.\n\n[[Lick the horse butthole]]

It's a long room with a high ceiling, carved roughly out of the rock. The floor of the chamber is flooded with a couple inches of water. On top of the water, round glass bulbs containing candles float freely. The result is very pretty to look at, but covers everything else in the room with murky, constantly shifting shadows. The deep throbbing seems to be coming from somewhere in here, though you can't see where, and with every pulse the water eddies and ripples, reshuffling the candles' positions.\n\nThere's a dry, raised pathway leading down the center of the chamber. On either side of it stand horses wearing black robes with heavy hoods, their faces obscured in shadow. The black hoods are a touchstone of familiarity for you, so recognizable as to be clichéd, and suddenly everything else snaps into focus: This is some kind of fucked-up sexy alien cult. And you're probably about to die. \n\nBeverly takes your hand and walks you down the pathway towards the light at the other end. The horses start chanting, something low and rhythmic that feels like it's seeping into your bone marrow. You want to scream and run, but the chanting and the weird throbbing are making it very hard for you to concentrate on //anything//. All you can do is follow.\n\n[[Keep walking]]

"I'm one of the leaders of the queen's retinue, as you know," Beverly continues. "Our queen is a very special horse, and she requires constant care in order to carry out her royal responsibilities. We are her support team, chosen from the best and brightest of horsekind to devote ourselves utterly to her well-being." \n\nHer eyes turn back to you. They're huge, so dark brown they almost look black, and looking into them you feel the same vertigo you felt whenever you looked out of your ship's tiny window into the vast, glittering void of space. A feeling like there's only a couple inches of solidity keeping you from getting sucked into the endless darkness. \n\n"I'd like to extend to you the opportunity to join the retinue as our first member with off-world origins. It'd be a step forward for both of our species." She reaches out and puts her hand in yours. "You don't have to say yes, and I understand if you don't, but know that this isn't the queen's idea. It's mine." \n\n[[Sounds intriguing]]\n[[Stick with the queen's plans]]

Your ship has crashed in a meadow in some sort of wide valley, carved out by a lazy, silt-brown river that winds down its middle and surrounded by gently rolling foothills. \n\nYou've never seen anywhere so GREEN in your entire life on the moonbase. They had a hydroponic greenhouse, sure, and movies and video games, but nature had never felt as tangible and vivid to you as it does now. You start to notice the different shades of color within the green-- the yellow and ochre of the tall grasses, the brown of tree bark, the yellow and white of the occasional patch of flowers. It's an incredibly intense, almost overwhelming experience. \n\nAgainst all better judgment, you really, really want to take your helmet off right now.\n\n[[Take it off, nobody's lookin']]\n[[Remember your training]]

Your dick throbs along its entire length, and your balls pump gush after gush of thick black cum into the tendrils that have now knotted themselves into one solid conduit and sealed themselves around your tip. You hit orgasm after orgasm, to the point of ludicrousness, to the point where you can't even think straight anymore, where it feels like your entire consciousness has collapsed and is flooding out through your dick, borne on the crest of an unstoppable black tidal wave of lust. Which, of course, is exactly what's happening. \n\nYour body writhes around, then quivers, then just twitches as the tendrils slowly digest and engulf it, linking it with the rest of the queen's network. As your consciousness is diluted and pumped through miles of tendril back towards the queen's body, you can only manage to transmit one last dim thought: //I. Still. Hunger.//\n\nAnd then the tide washes you away.\n\n''THE END''\n\n//YOUR SCORE IS: Two. In an adventure where every option leads to freaky shit, you are into some SERIOUSLY freaky shit.//

Still groggily putting two and two together, you unfasten a tube of DEHYDROCOFFEE^^TM^^ taped onto the wall next to your bed and suck the gritty paste out of it as you dimly remember your objectives.\n\nNobody knew where they had come from, or what they were. Some said they were from another planet, or another dimension or universe or something. Others said they were a genetic experiment gone horribly wrong, to punish mankind for daring to play God. All anyone could agree on, though, after the initial confusion, panicking and bloodshed, was this: They only //looked// like horses. \n\nIt had been two hundred years since they first appeared on Earth. By human scientist calculations, they should have overbred themselves into extinction about fifty years ago. Your mission is to scan the Earth for any signs of the damned things, and assess the planet's potential to be re-colonized.\n\n[[Get out of bed already]]

You both hit it, and you make a mess of the place in the process.\n\nTwin jets of hot, creamy genetically-charged semen explode from your tremendous cocks. The streams splash against the ceiling and then rain down on the rest of the room, coating the floor, walls and furniture with your sticky seed. //Orgasms aren't supposed to be like this//, you think-- you were only expecting a single moment of relief. Instead, the minutes pass-- like hours, really-- as you pump rope after thick rope of syrupy cum out of you, onto the room, onto Beverly, and onto yourself. It's a little terrifying, but it would be much more so if it didn't feel like you were finally scratching a deep, torturous itch that's bothered you for a long time.\n\nWhen you finally come to, you're laying on the carpet, entangled in Beverly's arms. You struggle to sit up on your wobbly limbs, but your hands keep slipping on the thick, strong-smelling substance that coats the floor. As you twist your head around, you realize that the entire room is covered in a thick, white layer of horse jizz. Beverly stirs next to you, opening her eyes.\n\n"My goodness! I haven't had as good of a stress-relief exercise in //ages.//" She gracefully pulls herself to her feet and extends a gooey, cum-spattered hand. "We'd best clean ourselves up. Don't worry about the room-- we'll have it taken care of later."\n\n[[Clean yourself up]]

You grab a legal pad and SPACEPEN^^TM^^ from a storage compartment and start making a list:\n\n* One human (obviously)\n* One space-worthy, airtight, tearproof STEELKLON^^TM^^ outer suit\n* One extra-padded, ballistics- and puncture-proof HELLGEL^^TM^^-lined inner suit \n* One BREATHEASY^^TM^^ oxygen recycler\n* One ultra-light fold-out VARMINT^^TM^^ personal all-terrain vehicle\n* One MONDOTOOL MK. IV^^(trademark pending)^^, a combination ship repair device, flashlight, survival tool and last-ditch self-defense weapon\n* One fully-stocked first-aid kit\n* Two weeks of freeze-dried space rations\n* One handheld scanning/recording computer\n* One single-barrel 12-gauge shotgun\n* Thirty-six rounds of 00 buckshot\n* One Valu-Pak of assorted hard peppermints, for negotiation tactics\n* One legal pad\n* One SPACEPEN^^TM^^\n\nYou are very proud of your list-making skills. Back at the academy you got a commendation for it. Unfortunately, you're so engrossed in making your inventory list that you don't see the ancient telecommunications satellite blocking your ship's re-entry path until it's too late.\n\n[[CRUNCH]]\n

"Look, I understand your reservations," says Quentin, "but I keep fastidiously clean, even by horse standards, which are already high. I took a shower right before I broke you out of jail, actually. Rest assured, I go through a lot of effort to make certain my ass is clean enough to eat off of." Another pause. "I mean, not that the fact that I'm //into// this has //any// bearing on our current situation..."\n\nYou lay there in the tunnel. It's just you and him and his horse butthole. There's nobody else looking. Would licking it really be so bad? \n\n[[Lick the horse butthole]]\n[[It probably would be so bad]]

Gently, oh so very, very carefully, you maneuver your ship until it's pointed at an even shallower angle towards the atmosphere. Theoretically, the extra weight won't be a problem now, and you can untangle the busted pile of junk from your engines when you land.\n\nExcept you //don't// land. You bounce harmlessly off the edge of the atmosphere and float off into nothingness. It'll take at least another day to get back into a proper landing pattern, and you don't have enough supplies or fuel to last that long. Congratulations, you've hopelessly cocked up mankind's last hope. At least you'll have more time to wank off now.\n\n''THE END''\n\n//YOUR SCORE IS: like, negative a million. You didn't even get to any of the weird shit. We-e-eak!//

"Good evening, traveller. I hope I haven't disturbed you." You quickly prop yourself up on your elbow and adjust your hand mid-fondle so it looks like you were scratching an itch. Even on a planet full of oversexed, free-spirited horses, some habits from back home are hard to break.\n\n"My queen wishes for you to participate in tonight's integration ceremony. It's an extremely spiritual rite in our culture, a way of comprehending our existence in one intense, all-consuming experience." When you try to thank her, she breaks eye contact, staring out at the sunset as if she's searching for something. When she begins speaking again, it's not with her usual calm, measured tour-guide tone, but with an extra bite of urgency.\n\n"For an outsider to be invited to this ceremony, much less take part... It's an incredible honor. But I also wonder if you might prove yourself a resource for our queen-- for //me//-- far beyond any diplomatic offering." \n\nNow what do you think //that// could mean?\n\n\n[[Good question]]\n[[Stick with the queen's plans]]

You notice the floor of the duct is getting more and more slippery. Quentin's pre-cum is spreading out in a puddle, soaking his belly and yours. Soon enough you'll be able to pop Quentin out of this tube like a cork from a champagne bottle, but you've got to push him a little further first.\n\nYou grab his slender ankles and run your hands up and down his curvy, delicate calves. You tell him that he's only going to come when you say so, and you suck on the tender skin behind one of his knees, just to make a point. Quentin cries out. You tell him to just relax. He's in good hands. \n\nYou rub your right hand across the floor, coating it in pre, then reach up and slowly slip your index and middle finger into Quentin. You gently feel around with them until-- "There! Aaahh! God, right there!", he howls-- you find his prostate, and you rock your fingers against it, massaging it as it quivers beneath your touch. Your left hand is still working his asscheek, which, you notice, is almost feverishly warm and soaked in sweat. You crane your neck over and slurp some of that musky, delicious horse sweat off of it. That's when you get the idea. \n\nYou slip a third finger into Quentin, who by this point is panting heavily and flooding the passage with pre. You move your face down until you're resting the side of it against the floor, staring down his churning, aggravated testes. "Okay, Quentin," you say, kissing them gently as you plant your feet on the ceiling of the duct, ready to push off. "You're allowed to come now." You wrap your lips and tongue around his poor swollen balls. Quentin screams.\n\n[[Push off]]

An ancient telecommunications satellite has tangled itself around your main engines. Christ, nobody cleaned this shit up before everyone left the planet? \n\nThinking quickly, you come up with a couple of options. You can either A) hastily correct course to compensate for the extra payload, or B) blast it with the engines until it gets either jettisoned or disintegrated. Neither are great options, but whatever, it's an emergency.\n\n[[Correct course]]\n[[Fire the engines]]

//"WAAANT... COOOCCCKK...",// you moan through the bridle. Wait, //what?!// No! That's not what you wanted to say. You try to yell as much, but only //"PLEEEASE"// comes out.\n\nGod, though, your new horse dick feels so thick and electric, and your balls feel like they're going to explode with how full they are. Any thoughts of escape swim out of your head and are replaced with visions of getting your gaping, hungry holes penetrated by your captors until you make a mess of yourself with your own emissions. What the hell was //in// that slimy stuff?\n\n"Aww, does the big horny animal want some of this?" says Maximus, stroking his thickening member. "C'mon, Aidan. It'd be cruelty if we //didn't// fuck him." Aidan chuckles and takes up position behind you, while Maximus buckles the saddle onto your back. "I hope you're ready, you beast," he says. "We're going to take you for a little ride."\n\n[[Get taken for a little ride]]

Your ship gets hotter and hotter as it screams towards the Earth. The supposedly impenetrable HELLGEL^^TM^^-coated panels designed to protect the ship during re-entry are crumbling into incredibly expensive ash. Beneath your stark abject terror, you suspect with a grim pang of cynicism that this would've happened one way or another. \n\nSensing your immediate peril, the ship's failsafe life-support system floods the cabin with insulating, cushioning SAFE-T-FOAM^^TM^^. The last thing you see before the foam surrounds and encases you is a lot of really horribly solid-looking ground, hurtling directly at you at hundreds of miles per hour.\n\n[[FFFUCK]]

Like twin bullets, you and Quentin shoot out of the duct and into the room beyond, carried on a veritable Slip 'N' Slide of jizz. You're both soaked in Quentin's fluids, and it's only when you stand up that you notice it's on hooves, not feet. You reach down to feel them, then run your hands through the new silky hide covering your legs as you explore your new curves. You've got Quentin's wide, swaying hips now, his round, luscious ass, his cute little bulge of a belly. And his ponderous oversized dick, naturally. \n\nYou walk over to where he's lying, gasping for air, and help him to his feet. He's still a little shell shocked. "Um. Wow," he pants. "Sorry about... um..." He gesticulates to your new body. You tell him it isn't a big deal. "Well, hey," he says, "how about next time you can get stuck in front of me?"\n\n[[Where are we?]]

What if I told you it was caramel-flavored? Plus it'll give you a giant dick. \n\n//God, fine then,// you think.\n\n[[Chug that slime]]

The ship crashes.\n\n[[cough cough hack oh god fuck am i dead]]

Huddled together in single file, your group enters the tunnel. You trudge forward blindly for what seems like an eternity, the waggling circle of light cast by Quentin's flashlight serving as your only waypoint. You can feel the warm, drooling breath of Keith's horse head on the back of your neck, and you wonder if dying underground in the arms of a skinless nightmare horse is really better than whatever "Incredible Death" is. Just then, though, you feel a breeze on your face, and the spongy loam of the floor gives way to solid brick. You ask where you are.\n\n"We're back in the hive's underground system," explains Quentin. "Water, sewer and power lines, as well as the queen's sensory network, all run through here. Very few horses are authorized to come down here, which is why it's suited our purposes so well. Our base is a straight shot down the right fork of this tunnel." There's a shift in the acoustics of his voice, and you can tell he's leaning closer to you, murmuring softly into your ear. "If you head to the left, though, there's an exit to the surface. We're dangerous people, and I don't think you should feel like you //have// to join us." He pauses. "One word of warning, though: Don't touch //any// of the queen's tendrils. I //mean// it." \n\nYou hear his footsteps walk to the right, and his spotlight spins around to illuminate his face. "Okay, everyone!" he announces. "Right this way!"\n\n[[Left fork]]\n[[Right fork]]

Maybe the horses have won you over with their ideology. Maybe you think you might actually accomplish your mission if you help them (which, hey, remember that? Your //mission?//). Or maybe you just don't feel like walking off alone down a pitch-black tunnel filled with who knows what horrors. Whatever the reason, you decide to stick with the aberrants for now. You call back to Quentin that you'll be right behind them, and, as a group, you set off down the tunnel's right fork.\n\nThe walk to the horse underground base isn't very far, maybe about half a mile, but it's half a mile walking blind through a maze of switchbacks and dead ends. Sometimes there's a couple inches of //some// kind of liquid on the floor, and sometimes there isn't. More than anything else, you're scared of stepping on something sharp or dangerous with your bare feet, so you shuffle along slowly, keeping a hand on Rosemary's warm back for safety's sake. \n\nAfter a while, you hear the sound of running water, and your group emerges into a high, narrow chamber. An enormous pipe set high into the wall discharges a steady gush of water into a tank set into the floor, connected to a complicated set of filters and sluice gates. Over the tank is a half-rusted metal catwalk that leads from your side of the room to the other, where light spills from behind an open iron door.\n\n"Home sweet home," says Quentin. "Now, only one at a time on the bridge, please-- this thing isn't exactly sturdy."\n\n[[Cross the bridge]]

You decide not to play your hand, instead remaining cucumber-cool under pressure. The horses lead you down a long hallway towards a row of iron doors set into the rock. They unbolt one, drag you inside, strip you of your extra-padded, ballistics- and puncture-proof HELLGEL^^TM^^-lined inner suit, and chain your arms to the wall with a pair of heavy iron manacles.\n\n"Have fun in the freak tank tonight," says Maximus. "We'll be back for you tomorrow."\n\nThe door slams shut. The iron bolt slides back into place. You hang limply from the wall as your eyes dart around the oubilette. As they adjust to the dimness, you slowly realize that you are not alone. \n\nA voice from the other side of the cell asks, "So what're you in for?"\n\n[[Who said that?]]

You pop the latches on your space helmet and slowly raise it off your head, tentatively taking a breath of Earth air. There are alarm bells going off in the more rational parts of your brain, screaming at you about how there's probably thirty-one flavors of hideously debilitating pathogen floating around in that breath. But it's clean and brisk, with a hint of sweetness on the end. \n\nIt smells like long summer days spent in wide open spaces. After breathing nothing but canned, recycled air for your entire life, the idea of it being something you might actually enjoy breathing is a total paradigm shift for you. You take a few more deep lungfuls, and for a moment, you are lost in them.\n\nFar off, from a copse of trees on the other side of the meadow, you hear a faint, rhythmic jangling of metal on metal. Someone or something must be coming to investigate the crash site. \n\n[[Oh shit, grab the gun]]\n\n