FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Bully, Brat, and Boyfriend

Jun 2026 Flavor of the Month

Exclusive Sneak Peek

Merlin was done with high school. The deer-fox was ecstatic that he was finally eighteen and able to free himself from the hellish last few years he had been in this school. He had gotten top marks and was easily one of the smartest kids in his class, any college he wanted was his for the taking. He could finally get out of his small town and head on out into the big open world.

The deer fox’s ruby fur glinted in the sunlight, his antlers a reminder of his male gender despite being a cunt boy. His green skinny jeans clung to his form tightly while his purple tank top fluttered over his tight form. He had always wanted to bulk up like his father had during high school, but…well, Merlin wasn’t necessarily welcome in the gym. That was jock territory and Merlin ran with the books and card games crowd. Sure, he liked all the nerdy things, but he also felt like he could have been a pretty good jock too, but instead he kept his body light and tight instead of bulky and brawny.

Though, now that he was done with his final day, he could finally take it up if he really wanted. Maybe his father could get him a gym membership. Now that his dad was in a relationship again, he was trying to bulk up and get into shape. Maybe he could get him a gym membership too.

Merlin slung his backpack over his shoulder and was getting ready to head out when he was suddenly pulled back. He lost his footing and fell down on his ass, his fox tail hiking up in his pain as he winced.

“Damn Mer,” Waylon huffed from behind him. “I’d say have a nice trip and see you next fall, but you ain’t really going anywhere falling down like that.”

“Waylon, can you please just let me go,” Merlin looked up at the arctic fox who had been his tormentor since middle school. He had gripped the handle on his backpack and yanked it to throw him off balance. The star jock now loomed over Merlin, the arctic white fur spread over bulging young alpha muscle. Waylon’s blond hair falling in gentle curls and his ocean blue eyes piercing. The guy would be a total smoke show if he weren’t such a jerk. Then again, most people didn’t care. They just saw the letterman jacket, the under armor compression tank showing off his crazy pecs and abs, and just fell to their knees.

“And miss my last chance to show you your miserable place? Fat chance, nerd!” Waylon smacked Merlin upside the head, making the deer fox yip. In the same motion he gripped Merlin’s backpack and unzipped it. Merlin tried to turn to stop him, but the jock just swatted him away and ripped out his sketch book. “What gay shit have you been drawing now?”

“Waylon, stop!” Merlin tried to get his sketch book back, but as soon as he stood, Waylon put his hand on Merlin’s forehead, keeping him well away from swiping distance while he thumbed through the sketch book with his free hand.

“What? You artist bitches always like getting critiques, right? I’m just helping ya,” Waylon’s cocky grin showed exactly what kind of help he wanted to give. He flipped from one picture to the next and chuckled. “Damn, gay as shit as always. Flowers and half naked men? Somehow that’s gayer than drawing dicks, HA!”

“Shut up! Give it back!”

“But I’m not done yet,” Waylon flipped to the next page and paused. “You been trying to get my good side?”

Waylon showed Merlin the sketch and it was just a generic fox, but big and strong.

“It’s not about you!” Merlin lied. Sure, the fox was generic looking, but he found it therapeutic to draw his tormentor and scribble him out. It was the only real control he could find through his art.

“Yeah, and I’m not the best QB this shithole’s ever seen,” Waylon then gripped Merlin by the hair and let the deer-fox’s momentum move him forward. Merlin practically tripped over his own feet as he stumbled forward, the fox manhandling him with just his one arm and slammed him face first into the trophy case by the lockers. The pictures and trophies rattled as Merlin winced, but sure enough, there were pictures of Waylon there holding said trophy as they took state. “But we both know that’s a fucking lie.”

“Let me go!” Merlin shrieked and twisted out of his grip, but Waylon held his hair. As soon as Merlin screamed though he let go.

“God, calm down faggot,” Waylon put his pinky in his ear to stop it from ringing. “No need to spaz out.”

“Give me my sketch book,” Merlin demanded.

“Oh this?” Waylon held up his sketch book and pulled his pinky out of his ear before smearing some ear wax on it. “You want this back?”

“Waylon…Fine! Keep it,” Merlin huffed, grabbing his bag and getting ready to turn and leave, but Waylon was far from done with the deer-fox.

“Nah, I don’t want it anymore,” Waylon walked forward and slapped it so hard against Merlin’s head, one of his antlers pierced it and got it stuck. “Shit, got art on the brain, Mer? Ha!”

“Waylon, just leave me alone!” Merlin shot him daggers and ripped the sketchbook off his head, not even wanting to feel if that earwax had smeared into his hair before he threw the book at him.

“Ha!” Waylon chuckled as the sketchbook unfurled, pages filling the hall as the half ruined notebook hit the fox’s chest. “You should really take better care of your shit, Mer. I mean, come on, this one looks pretty good.”

Waylon leaned down and picked up a detailed sketch of the school. He gripped it from the top and tore it down the middle. Merlin was mad that he was ruining his art, but he was more upset that Waylon thought he cared, because deep down he did care a little, but Waylon made it seem like he was tearing up a masterpiece. It was infuriating because the arctic fox thought he was bothering him more than he was, but it was the fact Waylon believed he was bothering him as much as he was that was making him so mad, so in fact, it WAS bothering him that fucking much! Merlin knew it didn’t make sense, but anger was rarely logical. And what Merlin did next was far from logical.

He screamed and ran at Waylon, arms pinwheeling like he was some character in a fighting game ready to wail on Waylon. In a flash Waylon moved and tackled Merlin from his middle, the deer-fox’s fists coming down to lightly bat Waylon’s back as the arctic fox hoisted him up and slammed him against his locker. Merlin gasped, the air knocked out of him as his vision swam. He was going to slump when Waylon gripped him by his shirt and smacked him against the locker again, making the deer-fox see stars.

“The fuck you think you’re doing Mer?” Waylon huffed. “You think you can take me? You think you can fucking hit me? That your best swing? Well, here’s mine!”

Merlin knew what was coming, but couldn’t flex his abdominals fast enough as he got punched HARD in the gut. Merlin gasped, a mix of spit and bile coming up as he was struck right in the solar plexus. He coughed up drool, on the verge of vomiting as he heard the locker beside him opening. He was spun around and shoved in face first, the door slapping shut and the dial lock spinning like a safe as he was crammed inside.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Waylon huffed, kicking the locker, rattling the metal and making Merlin wince and muffle a cry. “You gunna try that shit again? Huh!” Waylon kicked the locker a few times, the red metal denting, his sneakers leaving shoe prints. “That’s what I thought!”

Waylon was huffing, puffing his chest. He didn’t like that Merlin wasn’t just going to lay back and take it this time. So he had to teach him a lesson. Waylon smirked, looking around. Almost everyone had gone for the day, the hall was empty and most of the teachers had either gone home to enjoy the summer or took an early day.

“Ya know what?” Waylon smirked, pulling his shorts down and leaning down to the bottom slot of the locker. His thick, furry sheath flopped forward, the tip of his cock protruding even though he was completely soft. He aimed his dick up the bottom slot and let out a sigh of relief. A warm stream of piss shot up into that locker, hitting Merlin’s ankles. At first, the deer-fox was completely surprised, unsure of what he was feeling, but when the stream hit his calf, he started to panic.

“Waylon! Stop! AAAA!!!” Merlin screamed thrashed, the locker rattling as he tried to turn away, but there simply was nowhere to go. He tried to turn, to face the door and undo the lock mechanism, but he couldn’t. And the whole time Waylon was pissing on his foot paws. The smell of hot piss started to fill the locker as Waylon chuckled. Then, the whole metal box rattled as Waylon slammed his fist against the door.

“Serves you right, faggot,” Waylon chuckled. “Come on, don’t you little fairies like this kind of thing? Sloshing your foot paws in a real man’s piss? Ha! Bet you’re flicking your bean in there. Don’t get to hot and heavy, you’ll run out of air.”

Merlin knew he couldn’t run out of air, but the threat on top of his panic was sending him. He needed to get out, his tail pushing back, his foot paws padding in the shallow puddle of piss and the hot stream of that dick still unleashing into his prison. Merlin bit his lip, a tear running down his muzzle as he tried to hide his sobs, but it wasn’t possible. He let one slip.

“Are you fucking crying in there?” Waylon slammed his fist against the door again, making it rattle and causing Merlin to cry out and let a sob leave him. “God, you’re pathetic.”

Waylon stood up, shook out the last few drops and stepped away from the puddle of piss slowly coming out of the locker.

“See you around, loser,” Waylon slapped the locker and started to walk away.

“Waylon?” Merlin shouted. “Waylon! No! You can’t leave me here!” He sobbed. “Waylon! Come back! Please! I can’t be left in here!”

This wasn’t the first time Merlin had been shoved into a locker, but it was the first time he was stuck in one full of piss.

“WAAAAAYLAAAANNN!” Merlin screamed, his hands pressed against his chest, his body trying to thrash, but he was stuck, the air hot and acrid with Waylon’s piss as he was pinned by the confines of his metal coffin.

Waylon just ignored him as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, whistling an innocent tune as the screams and banging of metal echoed down the hall until he exited the building. He didn’t care how long Merlin would be in there, the only thing he knew is it would buy him time. Waylon hopped into his mustang, revved the engine loud through the parking lot to be sure Merlin could hear him leaving, and sped out of the parking lot.

Merlin hardly heard it through his sobbing in the locker.

***

Clive finished prepping dinner for when his son Merlin would come home. The older buck was a big man, easily in his mid-forties, but still a total stag. At least in image anyway. The massive buck was easily seven feet tall with his full rack, though currently they were shaved off little nubs, the gentle giant a former hunk turned DILF. His short, salt and pepper hair swept down into a thick, silvery five-o-clock shadow. His powerful neck muscles lashed onto a square jaw. His thick brow shaded his green eyes well enough. His powerful pecs pressed his button down open, a tuft of brown and white chest hair coming out of the crevice between those thick man milkers. His gut pressed those buttons apart too, the Hawaiian print of cerulean blues and hibiscus pinks giving him a looser feel. His kaki shorts were packed to bursting, his thick thighs filling them out and his legendary ass filling out the back. Some people had mistaken him for a moose before, but his angled muzzle and sharp facial features dismissed any question to what the stag actually was.

Currently the man was standing in the kitchen, having finished prepping the burgers for the grill, the charcoal already burning and ready to drop so he could throw the patties on when Merlin got home. Clive held the cookie sheet full of his precious meat like it was a platter with how massive his mitts were.

That’s when he heard the fingers of the key grinding into the lock to undo the front door.

“Hey bud!” Clive boomed from the kitchen. “Welcome home. I was just about to throw the patties on the grill. How’s my big graduate doin’?”

Clive had clopped his way out onto the back patio, not waiting for his son to tell him about his day and instead got right to making food. He dumped the chimney of coals out and just put the grate back on when he felt a pair of paws grip his pecs from behind.

“Honey, I’m home,” Waylon rumbled darkly from behind.

“W-Waylon?” Clive had to bite his lip as his nipples were tweaked. “I…I didn’t know you were coming over?”

“Ain’t that the point of me havin’ a key?” Waylon smirked, having to get up on his tip toes to nip the buck’s ear. “So I can come over whenever the fuck I want?”

“I mean, yes, but…I gave you that key so you could sneak in when Merlin was out,” Clive blinked, but the way Waylon was playing with his nips, his pecs super sensitive from the fox playing with them all the time, was driving him wild.

“Well, your brat ain’t home, is he?” Waylon smirked. “Don’t answer that, I know he aint.”

“I was…I was just going to make him some food. He should be back any minute.”

“No he aint,” Waylon smirked, giving each of Clive’s massive man tits a hard squeeze that both hurt and bled into a titillating pleasure. “The nerd is tied up at school.”

“Tied up? How so? It was his last day,” Clive blinked.

“Who knows with that dork,” Waylon tweaked the man’s nipples, Clive’s cock digging into his shorts and showing he had a thick, beer can monster hiding in those kakis. “But I’m a free man as much as your kid is, and that means I’m going to be spending a lot more time here.” Waylon gripped those tits, teasing them, a dark spot forming in the stag’s flannel shirt where those nipples were leaking. “And you know what that means.”

“Fuck…” Clive sighed. He loved having such a young, virile lover. The buck had a sexual awakening thanks to the dirty arctic fox. He knew he should have rebuked the young man’s advances, but he simply wouldn’t take no for an answer. Waylon never took no for an answer. All his life Clive had thought he was an alpha, a true father and family man, but that night, that one night where Waylon caught him at the gym was the most exhilarating thing he had ever experienced. The things they did in the showers once he convinced him, the arctic fox a total college jock in the making. Waylon had fucked him so hard and fast that he didn’t even bat an eye when he ripped one of his antlers off. He didn’t need it, he didn’t need to be a stud when Waylon had his cock up his ass. Besides, being a rackless doe DILF for such an alpha was very fitting.

“Yeah, why don’t you show me some fucking respect and get on your knees,” Waylon nipped the buck’s ear.

“I…um…would love to babe, but I got to flip the burgers,” Clive folded his ears back, gibing little happy grunts to Waylon’s hands messaging his tits.

“You think I can’t flip a patty? Get on your knees,” Waylon let go of Clive and grabbed a lawn chair, dragged it up beside the grill and plopped down, his legs spread wide. “Get your bitch ass over here and suck this cock.”

Waylon pulled his shorts down and kicked them off to the side, his letterman jacket discarded, the only thing he wore was his compression tank. He gripped the spatula with one hand and gripped his massive package with the other. That thick sheath was already spilling out his meat, the thick rod drooling out his demand of service, one the buck was all too familiar with.

Clive drooled. His maw hung open like he was looking at a prime rib buffet at the casino. He came over, but Waylon used the spatula as a scepter and stopped him, the flat of that grilling utensil pressed against the stag’s gut.

“Hold up there,” Waylon gave his bitch a sly grin. “Put the meat on the grill, then you can do your duty to the real man of the house and slob on this knob.”

Clive nodded wordlessly, his eyes transfixed on Waylon’s meat as it throbbed with his approval of his submission. That thick meat was almost as wide as his own member, but so much longer. Waylon was a true alpha in the making, his orange sized nuts churned with the virility of youth and a promise to grow larger. His shaft throbbed out of his sheath, lengthening to a proud fourteen inches, the blade having made bitch and bro scream his name countless times.

The buck quickly placed the meat over the coals and fell to his knees before Waylon. The buck’s maw hung loose as he came over and was about to slide that member deep into his gullet when Waylon used that spatula to slap his face and then pressed on his forehead like he was tyring to sizzle his brain. It fucking worked.

“Hold up there, baby,” Waylon spread his legs, those fuzzy orbs sloshing forward. “Start by giving thanks to these bad boys. They’ve been brewing your meal all fucking day, those balls work extra hard, and you should thank them for their effort.”

Clive would normally beat the ass of someone so cocky, but when Waylon did it, the way he did it, the young alpha coming into his home, taking his title of “man of the house” and shoving it in his face was only sending him. He didn’t realize how much he craved it, the degradation and abuse. He leaned forward, his lips arching forward before pressing against that first, heavy, and overburdened nut. His tongue lulled out as he cupped it, the salty nut on his tongue throbbing with Waylon’s powerful heartbeat, the thick smell of balls filling his nose mixed with the sizzing of meat and charcoal.

“Fuck yeah, that’s it, French my fucking sack you bitch,” Waylon spread his thighs further and thrusted his hips forward, those balls pressing into Clive’s face. “That’s it suck my sack, old man.”

Clive shuddered and opened his maw, pulling both balls into his muzzle, his tongue lulling over them, between them, lapping along that fuzzy scrotum while huffing Waylon’s pubes. The flavor of MAN filled his muzzle, the salty brine of a workout unwashed and a day’s worth of work left for his bitch to clean. Clive snorted that nut smell, the reek of a real man as his tongue lulled up between those balls, slurping, his lips dripping with drool as his cheeks bulged with those nuts.

“Fuck yeah, suck those nuts. Show me some fucking respect as the man of this house, HA!” Waylon pulled the spatula up and flipped a burger, the patties sialing in the air before smacking back down with a satisfied sizzle. This wasn’t the first time Waylon had been over. “Fuck yeah, taste those young nuts.”

Clive’s eyes were crossed as he slurped and suckled those balls, rolling them in his maw wetly, slurping on them, his nose drawing in cool air between those pubes as he snorted them. He was basically in a trance until that spatula smacked his forehead again, the metal hot this time. It was there just enough to warn him to pay attention and singe his fur, but not burn him.

“Go get your man a beer,” Waylon smirked. “and when you get back, you can have your meal.”

Waylon emphasized his point by gripping his throbbing, fourteen inch dominion rod. The tip oozed milky pre, his nuts primed and ready to give his potent seed to an obedient, slutty hole.

“Y-Yes Sir, of course,” Clive scrambled to his feet, sucking in drool between his teeth, the thick taste of balls and musk filled his entire maw and saturated his breath, making Waylon’s smell hit his nose on every snort. Clive went to the pool shed where an old fridge rattled to life. He quickly grabbed a six pack and a cooler. He dumped ice from the freezer into the cooler and shoved the brewskies into it before trotting back. Waylon was already flipping some burgers on the grill when he got back.

Waylon was standing and taking the burgers off the grill and putting new ones on. Clive practically skidded down in his knees in the grass before him on the patio. He then grabbed a beer and smacked it open, the bottle cap flying away. He handed him the beer, his maw hanging open, his tongue panting.

Waylon took the beer as he finished putting on the patties and took a swig before giving a contented sigh.

“Ice cold,” he murred, setting the glass down next to him as he sat back in his lawn chair, his cock bouncing and a strand of pre slinging around the tip. “What you waiting for? It ain’t going to suck itself.”

Clive crawled forward, his maw hanging open as he used his tongue to draw the tip into his muzzle. He sucked it down, gulping hard as he slurped it down to the base in one go. His tongue slapped forward on those balls and licked at that sack as he swallowed around that shaft. His throat muscle squeezed those glands and slurped at that shaft while his tongue slipped up and down along that cum vien, the tip working over those balls.

“Fuck yeah, bitch,” Waylon chuckled. “Show the neighbors why I keep you around.”

Clive didn’t know if anyone could see them from beyond his fence, but he didn’t care. Waylon was his first priority. He couldn’t help but kneel before him, suck his nut from his nuts and then beg for more. He had never met a man so dominating, and so virile and young with so much more to grow. He wouldn’t just let anyone take his grill from him, drink his beer, and talk to him like this. Let alone have glass out by the pool, but Waylon was more than worth it.

Waylon flipped a few more burgers before he smacked Clive with his greasy spatula.

“Come on, don’t just fuck your tonsils with it, suck my cock,” Waylon smirked, his balls already clenching, his knot already forming behind Clive’s lips. He was getting close, but there are perks to being young and virile. He just needed to get his easy load out.

Waylon put the grill top on the grill to let the cheese melt as Clive sucked up and down on that cock like his life depended on it, his lips coming down to stroke over that knot a few times, his lips popping off it like a giant jaw breaker. His drool hung in strands connected his chin and those balls. He gyrated his muzzle, his throat clamping down on that tapered tip over and over as he gobbled that cock. Thick glorking sounds echoing off the fence as he face fucked himself on Waylon’s cock. Clive’s thick jugs jostling back and forth from the effort, milk staining his shirt, his pre soaking his kaki’s

“Oh shit, papi!” Waylon huffed. “Get ready for your dinner! FUCK!”

Waylon moaned loud as his cock spewed his seed down Clive’s throat, the thick, tar like sludge gulping down that needy throat as Clive sucked on that knot. For a solid minute, Clive sucked that bone dry of every drop it would give him. The perfect amount of time for the cheese to finish.

“Fuck,” Waylon gripped Clive’s hair with his free hand and peeled him off his cock. “Good boy.”

Waylon spat in Clive’s open mouth, the taste of beer thick on that wad as it hit the back of his throat, complementing the salty brine of man that painted his tonsils.

“Fuck, I’m starved,” Waylon pulled the cap off the grill. “You got buns?”

“I…I can go get them. They’re inside,” Clive scrambled up from his seated position on the lawn and brushed the dirt off his knees before trotting back inside. He was up in the kitchen when the front door opened.

“Hey dad,” Merlin huffed as he threw his backpack on the ground.

“Merlin!” Clive almost dropped the buns as he saw his son come in. “I thought you were tied up at school or something?”

“Dad, it was my last day,” Merlin sighed. “I’m just glad it’s over and I have the summer to look forward to. You making burgers?”

“Yeah, I’m…I’ve got to…um…”

“Yo bitch! Want something other than my meat in your mouth,” Waylon said as he came in from the patio wearing nothing but an apron. It was one of those cheesy novelty grilling aprons that read “Kiss the Cook” while showing cut abdominals. Waylon had ditched his shirt and wore nothing underneath, the light from outside showing his long cock flopping between his knees in the shadow of his form. “Oh, you’re home. Thought you’d be a bit longer.”

“I…” Merlin’s jaw was on the floor as he looked at his dad and Waylon.

“Honey, I didn’t want you to find out this way,” Clive seemed almost sheepish, something quite difficult with his massive build.

“Oh calm down sweet cheeks,” Waylon came over with the tray of burgers and smacked his dad’s ass with that spatula. “The kid was going to find out sooner or later.”

“Waylon, please!” Clive blushed and tried to use the buns to cover up Waylon’s dick, even though it was covered by the apron. “Please, just put some clothes on in front of my kid—”

“Are you trying to tell me what to do?” Waylon’s voice had a dark edge on it. In a swift moment he dropped the spatula on the ground and gripped Clive’s beard and pulled him down to eye level, to look at him directly. “What did I say about telling me what to do, old man?”

“I…” Clive was warring with his instincts to protect his kid and be his best subby self in that moment. “T-To not to?”

“That’s right,” Waylon pulled Clive close, pressing his tongue into the buck’s maw and making out with him before slapping him away. “I taste good on ya, now make yourself a burger. You’ve earned it. And who cares if Mer’s sees my dick. He’s caught enough glances in the locker rooms. Besides, he aint’ my kid.”

Merlin was still standing there, completely shocked at his high school bully treating his own dad like that. And the thick bulge in his father’s pants and the dark spot in his kaki’s was a clear indicator of how much he liked it. He swore he saw it twitch when Clive realized he was looking at it too! Was he getting off to being humiliated in front of him?!

“Come on in Mer,” Waylon gave him a dark glare. “Food is ready. Why don’t you go wash up. You smell like piss.”

Waylon stuck his tongue out at Merlin, a dark look that said it all coming from those eyes. “You tell your dad, I’ll fucking kill you.” Merlin gulped hard and shuffled his way to the bathroom to wash up.

“You,” Waylon smacked Clive’s ass HARD with the spatula like it was a riding crop. “I’m going to have a word with you later about how you talk to me in front of your brat.”

Clive nodded, his face beat red as he made himself and Waylon a couple burgers. Clive knew that Merlin and Waylon were classmates for a long time, and it seemed odd that they were both eighteen, but Waylon just seemed so much more mature. The arctic fox already knew how the world worked and how Alphas should be treated, and he was only demanding his birthright. He wouldn’t be denied.

“H-How…um…should I treat you in front of Mer—”

“Your brat,” Waylon had an edge to his voice.

“My…um…brat…” Clive winced at that. It felt like a betrayal. He shook his head. “How should I be around my son while you’re around?”

“How you would be with any other man that’s donated a few gallons of his own brats down your throat and ass.” Waylon smirked, moving the spatula down between Clive’s legs and cradling those thick balls and hog with that manly scepter. “With respect. I’ve established myself as the man of this house, haven’t I?”

“Y-Yes…” Clive’s knees shook, his hooves twitching.

Read the full story today! Exclusively on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Bighope