This is my new story, and it is very less saccharin than River or A Second Chance. Lots of violence in this one, and very little transgender. Some will come, but at least not in the first five or so chapters. I hope at least a few of my former fans will enjoy it: Dawn.

Stone

1.

This could well be the worst hangover Stone had ever experienced. He vaguely remembered getting drunk last night … oh yeah, he had been cut from the team. He had played defensive lineman for a Canadian pro football team, and had just been cut at the end of training camp. He had been injured three weeks before, and the team decided to cut him rather than pay him for several months to recover. So he had gone and gotten hammered last night, staggering out of the bar into a late spring blizzard, totally out of it.

But now it didn’t seem all so cold. He could feel the sun shining on his back. Then he felt a tickling sensation on his ass, of all places. A second later he felt another sensation on his other ass cheek. He had to open one eye to see what it was, in spite of the hangover. He looked over his shoulder to see a small bird sitting on one ass cheek, picking things off the other. Ants. There was a long line of ants marching in a line across his ass and lower back, and this red bird was sitting there, calmly picking then up as they walked, without him even feeling the beak of the bird.

The hangover abated somewhat, and suddenly he shook himself, and the bird flew a few feet away, and Stone brushed ants off his leg, ass and back as he stood. Apparently he had been lying on the normal path the ants took, and they had decided to go over rather than around. The bird was now hovering in the air, tweeting an irate song at him for disturbing its feast before it was full. A second later the small bird darted away as a large hawk flew by. But the big bird did not chase the small one, instead landing about 20 feet from Stone, who was now standing, wondering why he was totally naked. And why it was warm and summery, unlike the blizzard of last night.

The hawk was making low chirping noises, and glanced from Stone off to the left. Stone looked to the left, and saw another person walking towards him. As she neared he realized she was a woman, and a rather tiny one at that. Small in height: but her figure was beyond curvy. Her waist was tiny, but her breasts were like something a teenage comic artist wannabe would draw. They were way beyond super-heroine size. She had long red hair hanging down to her tiny waist, and her face was incredibly beautiful. She wore filmy veil-like clothing that barely covered her. She also carried a longbow over one shoulder and a quiver on the other.

“My goodness, you are a big one,” the girl said in perfect English, looking up at Stone, who towered over her. She looked down a bit, and he noticed for the first time that his flaccid penis was more than twice as long and twice as thick as before.

“That won’t do,” she said pertly, and took one of the scarfs from around her neck and tied it around his waist, with a long piece hanging down in the front, acting like a loincloth. “Better,” she pronounced. “You can call me Rayla. That isn’t my real name, but Arthur says it fits the way I look here.”

“Who is Arthur?” Stone asked.

She gestured to the hawk. “That is Arthur. What do we call you?”

“My name is Stone Wahl,” He said. “You may have heard of me. I played for the Roughriders for four years. On defense. The papers called me the Stone Wall. Do you talk to the bird?”

“Roughriders? Never heard of them. And Arthur is a hawk, not just a bird. He is my familiar. He has helped me a lot in the past week or so, explaining things. He says you will find a familiar sometime later today. Not a bird, but other than that he doesn’t know what.”

“Where are we? It was snowing last night in Regina. I’m glad its warm here. I’m really not dressed for winter.”

“Where is Regina? Somewhere in England? I was in Cleveland, Ohio until 10 days ago. Arthur says this is not Earth, and I can vouch for that: there are two moons, just a little smaller than the one on earth. He says we have a mission here, but doesn’t know what. He knew you were coming today, and brought us near. Where should we go now?”

Stone looked around. They were on a small, grassy hill. He pointed down the valley at the right. “That way,” he said. “When I was a kid, in scouts, they taught us you always go toward lower ground. If you keep going downhill, eventually you will reach water, and if you follow the water downstream eventually you will find people. Then maybe we will find out what is going on.”

“That way is east,” Rayla said. “As good a direction as any. Arthur said you had to decide: now you will find your pack and your familiar.”

“I don’t have a pack,” he said as they walked down the hill.

“Not yet,” she said tersely, and they walked on in silence. After about two miles they saw a huge bay horse standing near a flat rock that had something on it. “Your pack,” she said, pointing.

The girl had sharp eyes, it was a half-mile further on before Stone could make out the pack. There was a huge sword next to it. As they walked, Stone studied the horse. He had ridden on the farm as a boy. The horse seemed to be as big as a draft horse, but didn’t have the large hooves. It neighed as they approached, then resumed grazing on the long grass.

Rayla got to the pack first, and started going through it. She threw clothes at him. “Thank God,” she said. “Put these on.” It was a pair of buckskin trousers and a vest with fringe on the arms. He looked like a traditional First Nations’ person. “You can keep the scarf as underwear,” she added. “I’ll never wear it again.”

“Jesus,” she said, lifting the sword next. “This is crazy heavy.” She could barely hand the weapon to him. He grabbed it and swung it about, the way people did on TV. As he did, he thought he heard it sing in a soprano voice. “Blood, kill, cut, maim.”

“Did you hear that,” he asked the girl. “It sings when I swing it.”

“Maybe it is your familiar,” she said. “You can’t hear Arthur, so why would I hear your familiar.”

“I dunno. She sings a pretty vicious song, though. I wonder if she has a name.” He put the sword back into its leather sheath, and strapped it on his waist.

The bag had some food, and water in it, along with a knife and a few other tools. There was a saddle on the stone that looked large enough for the horse, so Stone walked over to it and put a hand on its shoulder.

«Greetings, friend,» a voice said in his head. Stone pulled his hand away and the voice ended. Then he carefully reached out again. Once he made contact with the horse, the voice came back.

«That was quite rude,» the voice said. “I can only speak with you when we are physically touching. My name is Doug, and I am a horse now.»

“Weren’t you always a horse?” Stone asked.

«No, until last night I was a librarian in Boulder, Colorado. In a wheelchair,” the voice said. “I was a paraplegic since a sledding accident when I was 10, nearly 50 years ago. So I have gone from no legs to four overnight. I quite like it.»

“Are you talking to it?” Rayla said stroking the horse. “Is the horse your familiar?”

“I think so,” Stone said turning back to the horse. “He says his name is Doug.” «So what happens now, can I talk to you mentally as well as verbally,» Stone said in his mind.

«It appears so. I can also communicate with the bird, but not the smaller human, even if she touches me. Interesting. Why don’t you put that saddle on me, and try riding. Something tells me I will like being ridden.»

Stone saddled the horse and put on the reins, noting that there was no bit on the unit.

«Of course not,» Doug explained. «You don’t need a painful bit to control me. I will do what you want as you think it, or tell you why not. You can’t force me like a dumb animal. That saddle looks big enough for the little one behind you as well. Will you both ride?»

«Might as well,» Stone said. He had arranged the sword on one side of the saddle, and lashed his pack to the other. He stepped into the stirrup, and then turned to Rayla.

“Do you want to ride?” he asked the girl. She looked hesitant, but then made a small nod. He reached down and grabbed her arm, and practically flung her through the air until she landed firmly on the back of the saddle.

“Oh my,” she said after she settled herself into position after flying onto the horse. She had weighed practically nothing to the big man.

There wasn’t much said for the first few miles. Rayla held on tightly around Stone’s waist, and the feeling of her large breasts pressing into his back caused certain feelings in the man. Feelings that manifested in one of his trouser legs tightening around what they contained. He felt embarrassed, and hoped the girl would not see. When they met, he had been too shocked at the new situation to react, and she had quickly concealed his organ. But now it was showing his definite attraction to the girl.

Rayla, on the other hand, was feeling strange things as well. She was atop nearly a ton of pure muscle, and was hanging on to another being just as muscular. She couldn’t see ahead: he was far too tall, so most of the time she just lay her head on his back and looked to one side or the other.

There was a farm house every mile or so, but all were deserted and burned out. Rayla said Arthur had seen the raids, made by slavers who either killed the settlers, or enslaved them early in the summer. They came to a small stream just as the first moon was rising in the dusk. “See, water,” Stone bragged to anyone who listened. “We will camp here. You said there was food in the bag? Doug can find his own.”

Doug was looking intently to the south. «There is a mare in heat nearby. I’m going to go get some nookie. I used to get laid once a year when I was younger, even when I had to pay for it. Now I am healthy, and I don’t have to wait for my birthday.» As soon as Stone dropped off the horse, he unsaddled it and it went to the brook and drank deeply, then headed south, following its nose.

Stone moved near a wooded copse and found some deadwood to bring back for a fire. When he got back, he found that Rayla had a camp set up. “Your horse found some wild animals,” she said with a smile. “Arthur says he killed the stallion and is currently fucking the lights out of the one in heat. Get that fire started and we can eat. There are some herbs and vegetables in.

Then she stood quickly and swiveled on one foot taking an arrow from its quiver in fast motion. In an instant the arrow was flying through the air and struck a rabbit Stone had not even seen. “Rabbit stew,” she announced, going to the dead animal. Do you know how to clean a rabbit?”

“I can learn,” Stone said.

“Never mind. Give me your knife and I’ll do it. Faster that way. You keep trying to make a fire. It gets kinda cold here at night and I don’t have much in the way of clothes.”

The fire was easy. Not BIC lighter easy, but there was a flint in the pack and soon Stone had small sticks blazing and found he could easily snap branches up to four inches in diameter, creating small logs for the fire. The fire was burning solidly when Rayla came back and dropped some meat into the stewpot. In a half hour wonderful aromas were coming from the pot, and soon Stone learned that he really liked the taste of rabbit stew.

As they chatted over the meal Rayla told her story. She had appeared in the strange land almost two weeks ago, without warning. She came from Ohio, and it was late fall there. She said that her body back there was very different, without going into details. Soon after she arrived, a woodsman had found her, and had said some words in a chant. That caused her to become obedient to his every command.

“I am a slave,” Rayla said. “He used me as you might expect, but that night I discovered Arthur, who saved me. He picked up the largest stone he could carry aloft, and dropped it from about 1000 feet. It hit the woodsman squarely on the head, and crushed his skull.”

“Wow, that must have taken some kind of accuracy,” Stone said.

“Arthur is special. The instant the man died the strange compulsion vanished, and I discovered that I had superior skills with his bow and arrow. I was able to hunt small game easily. But I didn’t have a flint. Meat is much better cooked.”

She cleaned the empty pot and washed it in the brook while Stone took out some rolls from the pack. One was a waterproof material and the other was a blanket.

“There is only one bedroll”, he said as she came back. He set it up so that half the groundsheet was on the ground and the other half was attached to two sticks, to make a little lean-to. The top part would keep the morning dew off them as they slept: a trick he had learned in scouts on earth. The opening faced the fire, and it still threw off enough radiant heat to warm the lean-to.

“Your familiar is coming back,” Rayla said. “Arthur says he is not alone.”

A moment later Doug trotted into the camp. He had to whinny loudly and three other horses then cautiously came close enough to be seen. One was a large mare and another was a small filly. The third horse was somewhat in between.

Stone put a hand on Doug and instantly could see memories of his familiar coming across the small herd of wild horses. First he killed the stallion, which fought for his herd but was no match for the huge Doug. Then the horse took the female in heat and did what horses will do. And well, apparently he had done it well, since she had followed him closely ever since. The other two horses also followed through their herding instinct. Doug didn’t care: the one would come into heat later, and the filly would be old enough in a year.

«Be gentle with them,» Doug said. «The little human can ride one tomorrow, and the others can be pack animals. I enjoy carrying you, but the thought of being a pack animal is demeaning.»

The horses wandered off to graze, while the humans crawled into the lean-to, after stoking the fire enough to keep it going for the night. Rayla crawled in first and snuggled into the spot where the groundsheet became the roof. Stone got in next, and had to crowd into the girl’s back to get under cover. The lone blanket covered both of them,

As Stone spread out the blanket over her, he stroked Rayla’s shoulder. He could feel her tense up. He pulled his arm away quickly.

“What is wrong?” he asked. “There are ways we could keep warm here tonight.”

“If I must, Master,” she said.

“What is this Master crap?” Stone said.

“I am a slave,” she said. “It is not a compulsion because you haven’t said the binding spell, but I am still your slave.”

“Bullshit,” Stone said. “Half my buddies on the team were Black, and there is no way I am going to have a slave.”

“You have to,” Rayla said sobbing. “If you are not my master then the first man who says the binding spell will be. I like you. You are gentle. But I have to be your slave.”

They argued in the bed for 10 minutes, and Rayla finally convinced him she would be his property. Stone was adamant he would not say the binding spell that Rayla wanted.

“I don’t like it,” Stone finally said. “I will never force you to do anything. If I say something that sounds like a command, you can say ‘are you sure, Master?’ and I will probably rephrase it. I will never sell you, and I will never force you to do anything you don’t want to. I don’t want you to call me Master.”

“Arthur says that slavery is engrained in this nation, but I am glad that you will be around to protect me from it,” Rayla said softly.