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They left the club shortly after that, Perch's mind focused on doing whatever he could to get his hands back on the stallion's amazing penis. He followed Bucephalus meekly, but suddenly apologised and ran back to the table, finishing his drink in a single gulp. He returned to the horse with a sheepish expression. "I...didn't want to waste it..." he mumbled, as Bucephalus looked at him with an amused expression.

"That's fine, son. I'm not going to complain if you're a little _more_drunk." His expression became more of a leer, and Perch blushed, and looked down. He didn't know why he felt funny when the big horse spoke to him like he was his plaything, and looked at him in that way, but he liked it very, very much.

They stepped outside into a morning still some hours from daybreak. The bouncer was still there. "Bucephalus," he greeted the tall horse, with a perfunctory nod. "And Perch..." The grin that came with that could have swallowed a melon. The horses greeted him back, then began walking along the pavement. It seemed Bucephalus had not arrived by car.

The air was still, and cold. Perch shivered, and Bucephalus looked over. "Chilly, huh?" Without waiting for an answer, he shrugged out of his jacket, and wrapped it around Perch. The smaller horse blushed again. "Thank you...sir." Bucephalus snorted, and stopped, looking down at the other horse.

"Alright Perch, first lesson. Don't call me sir." He put a hand on Perch's cheek, stroking his fur as the other stallion opened his mouth to gabble an apology. "No, no, don't worry. I know this is all new to you. But I'm not your boss, alright? This is not a job. This is...so much more than that."

"I'm the horse who's going to take care of you from now, in every way. I'll put a roof over your head, give you a bed to sleep in, food to eat, clothes to wear. See, I look after your needs" -- Perch flushed at the memory of the amazing cock he had fondled in the club -- "and you look after mine. That clear?" Perch nodded. "And...you always do what I tell you to." He paused. "Don't ever forget that one."

"You've got an apartment, correct? Well, you don't need that anymore. You can go and fetch your things tomorrow. Your family?" He made a motion as if to shove aside an invisible object. "Forget about them. Irrelevant. I'm the only family that matters in your life now. So -- you call me 'daddy', not sir. You understand, son?"

Perch shivered again, but this time with delight. "I understand, daddy." It felt so good -- so _right_to say that. He wasn't especially close to his family, so seeing them less wouldn't really bother him. And anyway, his new daddy was much more interesting. Bucephalus put his arm around him, and they sauntered along, together, breath steaming in the dawn.

"Good boy," the big stallion said, hugging Perch's shoulders. "Now, come along, it's not much further."

They walked in silence for a while. Perch's mind raced, trying to understand everything that had changed for him in the last few hours. He was going home with a horse he hardly knew; this, at least, was the easiest change to accept. Bucephalus had rescued him from that horrible mustang, and made him feel so safe, and happy. He glanced over at his new daddy. The stallion's lean frame loomed over Perch, muscles just visible through his shirt. His calm face stared straight ahead, eyes lost in thought; occasionally, he would blow an errant scrap of mane out of his eyes. Perch flicked his own eyes down to the pleasantly bulging crotch, recalling yet again what he'd felt in there earlier. Bucephalus, sensing his attention, looked down at him, and smiled. Perch smiled back, feeling a warmth blossom in him. Emboldened, he slid an arm around the other horse, resting it just above his fantastic butt. This was good. He was happy.

A few minutes later, they arrived at an unmarked entrance, set back slightly into a tall and featureless wall that stretched along the road in both directions, curving out of sight at the street corners. Moss-covered pillars flanked an oaken door, inscribed with symbols that Perch did not recognise. He released his grip on the great stallion.

"This is your house? It's huge!" He gaped at the door, trying to make sense of what was carved into it. "You must be so rich!"

Bucephalus chuckled at his amazement. "Yes, it's my house. And I wouldn't say 'huge' really...more 'appropriate'. I value my privacy, and I have side projects that need space. Both needs are well served here." He reached into the inner pocket of the jacket draped over Perch, making sure to slide his palm over his son's chest as he did so, making the young horse blush. He fished out a set of keys, and started unlocking the door.

Perch pointed at one of the mysterious symbols. "What does it say?"

"Hmm? Oh, the door." He left the keys in the lock, then stepped back to get a better look. "It's ancient Greek. A very old, very wise aphorism. I believe it was first uttered by Heraclitus, although his interpretation differs from mine." He stared at the characters. "It says...'This is also the exit'".

Perch nodded slowly, then stopped. "Um..."

"Yes?"

Perch floundered, and shook his head, mumbling something. Bucephalus took his hand. "No, son, tell me. You can tell me anything. I'm your father now." His earnest look was very briefly interrupted by a flash of a smile. "Go on."

Perch looked at the door, and then said, "That...seems kind of...um, obvious?" He looked at Bucephalus, hoping he hadn't offended him, but the dark stallion was grinning.

"Yes, Perch, yes, it is. And I'm so glad that you think so." He waved an arm across the entranceway in a great grand gesture. "For these are the Doors of Pretension, and none shall enter who find meaning in their words!"

Perch giggled. "What does that meeean? You're silly. Do you really speak ancient Greek?"

Bucephalus nodded. "I used to." He finished unlocking the door, and pushed them open. "Come on inside, son. We'll get you warmed up and settled in."

Perch happily shuffled forward, eager to see his new home. "Used to? What happened?"

Bucephalus looked down at him. "I died."

The doors slammed shut behind them.

---

A winding path, lit by electric lanterns, weaved over a well-tended lawn up to a modest two-story house. Some other buildings were visible off to the side; a shed, and what looked like a stable or barn. Bucephalus seemed to forget that Perch was there, as he strode powerfully up the path; Perch was forced to jog a little to keep up, and had no opportunity to find out more about that bizarre statement from Bucephalus. What had he meant? It made no sense. Was it a joke? He did have a strange sense of humour...it had to be that. Well, that or he was a zombie horse -- but Perch didn't think zombie horses had hot, throbbing cocks in their pants.

Bucephalus was waiting at the door for him. It was open, and warm light spilled out of the interior. Perch could see a sitting room, sumptuous and modern, quite at odds with the unassuming exterior. Then Bucephalus stepped in front of it, and crossed his arms, looking down at his new son. "You need to keep up, son," he chided. "Daddy won't wait for you next time."

Perch gulped, and nodded rapidly. "S--sorry daddy. I'll be quicker." He felt a little ashamed at having to be told off, but he had really tried to keep up; the bigger horse just moved faster. He'd be better, though. He would.

Bucephalus looked down at him impassively for a few seconds, before reaching one hand out to tilt Perch's muzzle up. Perch stared back, directly into his eyes. He noticed how the horse's expression remained calm and still, even as his eyes seemed to become little chips of sapphire, much harder than the rest of him, digging into Perch and unravelling his secrets. It was disconcerting, and frightening. Perch was suddenly keenly aware that he was entirely alone, in a strange place, with a powerful, mysterious stallion who had already proven that he was quite comfortable with violence.

Then, as if it had just been a strange and fleeting vision, his father's expression shifted slightly, and his eyes became the glittering blue of a warm and inviting lagoon. "Home sweet home, son," his deep voice rumbled, warm and caring, and Perch flushed in delight, the odd look instantly forgotten. "Just remember," his father continued, "before we go in: the most important rule in this house is...?" He raised an eyebrow for an answer.

Perch piped up. "I always do what you say, daddy."

Bucephalus grinned, ruffling his son's head, and turned, walking inside. Perch followed.

The entrance hall was more of a foyer, with a staircase on the side leading upstairs, and a wide open sitting room occupying most of the remainder of the lower floor. It was meticulously organised: cushions, coffee table, bookshelves, art on the walls...all perfectly aligned. Bucephalus seemed to be a very precise horse. Bucephalus showed him around the ground floor -- a kitchen was tucked in at the back -- and then they headed upstairs.

Perch peered into the various rooms as they passed, before they arrived at the generous master bedroom. "Our room," Bucephalus said, standing to one side to let Perch look around. It was spacious, with a king-sized bed occupying most of a wall. Thick curtains across the patio windows ensured privacy if desired, and colourful patterns on the walls looked like pure decoration -- until Perch realised it was meant to look like the flowing manes of horses. He beamed at his father. "I love it, daddy! And this bed looks so comfortable!" He walked over as if to flop onto it, but Bucephalus called out to him.

"No, Perch. There's no time to relax now. I've got something very important I need to do."

Perch twirled back, arms swinging around a little. "What's that, daddy?"

The tall friesian begun unbuttoning his shirt, slowly and methodically. "You." He reached up and pushed his mane out of his eyes. "Don't...move...a muscle." He sauntered closer, more and more of his chest being revealed, and Perch's eyes grew with every button that came loose. Bucephalus came to a stop just in front of him, shrugging his arms out of the sleeves and letting the shirt fall to the floor behind him. His upper body was hard, and smooth; where his muscles curved, the dark hair bent slightly, catching the light with a sheen that slid back and forth with his breathing. Perch looked up at him in awe, and excitement. With only a moment's hesitation -- put to rest by a nod from Bucephalus --he placed both hands on the horse, and slid them eagerly over every inch that he could reach. A juddering little sigh came out of him as he felt the restless power under that skin, and then a squeal of happiness when he gripped the horse's pectorals, squeezing softly, feeling his father flex them in return. It would have taken both of his outstretched hands to cover a single one.

"Daddy..." Perch whispered, "you're so handsome...and gorgeous...and perfect...and..." He didn't know what else to say. The tall stallion said nothing; he knew this. He only worked to make sure everyone else knew it too --and how could they not? He stood like a sentinel, tall and confident and perfectly in control. The stallion was more than Perch could have imagined when he set out for Stud Farm. He had to have him; to be had by him. And he could, because this was his daddy, and he was his son. He shivered once more at the thought, and his cock pushed almost painfully against his pants. He breathed in deeply, smelling the scent of the horse that now owned him.

He reached down, grabbing at his belt to undo it, but Bucephalus seized his arm. "No, son," he rumbled. "That's not how this goes." He guided Perch's hand back onto his body, then slid it down his abs, and under the waistband of his underwear, holding it there. Perch could feel the heat radiating from just below his fingertips, and nickered needily. Bucephalus snorted, and continued. "You don't touch yourself until I tell you, son. Daddy comes first. Undress me." He released Perch's hand, and waited. Perch nodded, undoing the large stallion's belt and the top button of his trousers in record time. Then, hands trembling, he pulled down on the elastic of the underwear, slowly revealing a massive, tumescent horse cock. His mouth began watering as he pulled down further, exposing more and more dick, until finally the clothes fell completely, and Bucephalus stood naked in his glory.

His cock emerged from a musky, wrinkled sheath, hanging down heavily. The scent of it was incredibly powerful; Perch felt light-headed, and he fell to his knees, hands gripping the great horse's legs, bringing the penis to eye level. It was almost as dark as its owner, but for some mottled pinkness around the middle that only made it look more attractive. The swollen length was lightly veined, and Perch watched it pulse ever so gently, mirroring the heartbeat of the stallion. All of it led inexorably down to the tip, a bulbous mass encircled by a ring of nubbed flesh, and the sticky drip of precum leaking from it.

Nestled behind it, hanging low in a scrotum as matte as night, the horse's enormous balls rested like onyx weights; while his dick was the size Perch would expect for a horse of his height and breed, his balls were another story. They were incredibly large, and Perch could only imagine the volume of semen waiting inside. He reached up with a hand to cup them; just one filled his hand completely, an orange-sized orb that made Perch moan. His father whinnied at the feeling, and Perch looked up quickly, feeling the testicle in his hand bounce up ever so slightly as the scrotum tightened a little.

The tip of Bucephalus' mane, with its artificial golden tint, was hanging down over the right half of his face, obscuring it. The other eye looked down at his son with pure lust, and Perch flushed at the sight. Bucephalus brought a hand up behind the smaller horse's head, and gripped his mane. He spoke quietly, but his tone demanded and expected that all present would listen, and hear. Like smooth cream, his voice flowed languidly over Perch.

"Only a few horses have ever had a chance to have this. To have me. You need to understand, son, that this" --he gestured to the two of them-- "is something special. We are stallions, boy. We are the ones that everyone else desires. No matter their species, or gender, or orientation --this is all they see when they look at us." He hefted his cock, making it swing lazily, and Perch groaned, the tip of his tongue flicking out over his lips in a spasm of need. Bucephalus ignored him, and continued. "We hold the power, and it is for us to decide where and when it is handed out. Dogs, foxes, otters, bulls...they'll all bend for you, son. Every last one of them will bend, and beg, and scream for you to fill them. And you should: they must be reminded of what we are, and why they lust over us. But there's only one time when it truly matters, when a stallion's gift is received in a way that is...fitting." His eyes blinked lazily, and the hand gripping Perch's mane pushed the small horse slowly forward, downward, towards his cock.

"It's when he's with another stallion, Perch. Stallion, united with stallion; strength, and sex, and dominance all mixed together, in a heady and irresistible potion. We are masculinity personified, son. The essence of lust. When two stallions fuck, it's...it's everything. Nothing else matters. You cannot -- must not --hold back. Give it everything you are, because it's what you were born for." He tilted his head to one side and smiled as Perch's lips met his dick. "I'm going to transform you, little stallion. Out there..." He pointed vaguely outside. "It's all bullshit, boy. You do whatever you need to, to get by. You'll be my son, or whatever fucking nonsense people tell themselves, and that's all anyone will see. But, here? With me?" His voice grew deeper, and harder, and his grip on Perch's mane tightened. "In this house, you're my queer little slut stallion, son. My fuck-mare. There's no other stallion in the world that will make you feel like I do, I fucking promise you that. You're just a dumb faggot that needs me to put you in your place, and I do it gladly, slut." The horse's bearing had changed subtly, and he stood arrogantly now, a smirk riding his face. "So -- do you have something to say to me, slut-stallion?"

Perch groaned deeply at the other stallion's words. They cut, making him feel a little worthless, but at the same time it was all true. Everything his daddy said, Perch felt click inside him, easing little hurts and pains that he'd forgotten he even had. Things that had been complex before, were easy now. Daddy would make it all right. This was just what he wanted, and where he wanted to be. He took a deep breath.

"Yes, daddy. I'm your slut-stallion, daddy. I want you, only you. You're so beautiful, daddy. How could I ever want anyone else? I need you, daddy...only you. Make me yours, please? Make me your fuck-mare. Show me how to be a true stallion." Part of Perch hated how whiny he sounded, and how easily he was giving himself over to the other horse, but the louder part was in heaven; the sliver of rebellion only made it feel sweeter. Bucephalus snorted, shaking his long mane, seeming to deeply enjoy Perch's submissive begging.

"Don't be greedy, son," he said. "You'll get what you want -- if I choose it. For now, suck my dick."

Perch needed no further encouragement; he grabbed the thick shaft, pulling it up and pushing as much of the tip into his mouth as he possibly could. He was pretty sure that's what you did, anyway. Wrapping his hands around the shaft, and squeezing, he slobbered all over the stallion's flare, licking up every drop of precum present and then sucking on the urethra, trying to will more out of it.

Bucephalus stared down at the other horse in amazement. "Holy shit, slut-stallion...you are really bad at blowjobs." Perch's ears drooped at that, and Bucephalus laughed. "I forgot how new you are...well, I can't have it both ways, I suppose. Why don't you try the balls instead? And, son -- make me believe in you this time, hmm?" He tapped Perch's nose. "Or else I might reconsider the slut I brought home." Perch nodded, chastised, and lifted the cock up, resting it on top of his head as he nuzzled his father's nuts, breathing in the amazing smell of male horse musk. The cock weighed heavily on him, the tip drooping down to kiss his back; he could feel more precum leaking from it, through his shirt. It was incredibly arousing, and he dug deeper into the nutsack with his nose. Mindful of his father's casual threat to get someone else if he didn't prove his value, he racked his brains, trying to remember every time he'd ever seen someone worship a set of balls in porn.

Carefully, he pursed his lips, and gently sucked on the very bottom of one of the nuts. Simultaneously, he let his tongue probe it, pushing a little, then relenting. He would repeat this for a few seconds, then open his lips a little wider, and suck in a bit more horse testicle. When enough of it was in his mouth, he started roaming over the surface with his tongue, instead of just probing it. The scrotum was hairless, and the skin felt unbelievably smooth; Perch's own sack was a little hairy, and nothing like this. He didn't know if it was because his father shaved or not, but he didn't care. It was an amazing sensation to feel, his tongue frisking over it and tasting it. With a final stretch, he managed to get an entire ball in his mouth, the smooth, bulbous mass filling it completely. He felt his father's body shudder, and Bucephalus moaned.

"Ohh...very, very good job, fuck-mare. That's more like it." Perch felt the cock lying on top of him jerk, and a fresh glob of pre began oozing through his shirt. "You're learning." The friesian nickered, and stroked along Perch's mane gently. His tone changed again, becoming endearing. "You're such a beautiful horse, son...daddy saw it the moment you walked into that club. He knew he had to have you, to make you his. We're joined now, son, forever." Perch couldn't respond with a mouth full of bollock, so he squeezed his hands on the horse's legs instead in agreement. Bucephalus nodded back. "You're showing daddy that you care, that he can trust you to treat him like he deserves. That's all daddy asks of you, son, and in return, he'll give you exactly what you need."

Bucephalus pulled back on Perch's mane, encouraging him to release the nut from his mouth, which he did; it popped out wetly, and Perch licked his lips clean of spit, looking up adoringly at his father. "Stand up, son," the taller horse said, picking his cock up off Perch's back. Perch got to his feet, breathless, eager to see what came next. Bucephalus beamed at him, and Perch gazed back beatifically. Then, Bucephalus brought a hand up, and locked it around Perch's throat. The small horse's eyes widened in confusion; he wasn't being choked, but this was unexpected. Bucephalus leaned in close to Perch's side, and whispered into his ear. "What you need, fuck-mare, is a little discipline. A little control. You've been wasting your life, slut. Twenty or more years of failed ambition." Bucephalus' breath was hot against Perch's ear, and the words burned inside him. "You're just so...sad. Why would anyone even want a hopeless, pathetic mess like you? You're so fucking lucky you've got me to fix you, boy." Perch's breath grew ragged at the stallion's hurtful words, but he couldn't stop his cock growing even harder at the same time. He didn't understand why this felt so good; he just knew he wanted more of it. His father's tongue snaked out and licked along the edge of Perch's ear. "Let the training begin, slut-stallion. Take off your clothes, and get down on the floor."

Perch was released, and quickly began to strip. Soon he stood naked in the living room, his father looking him over, and actually nodding in satisfaction. "Just as fucking hot as I thought, slut," he said, with a smirk that made Perch's heart skip a beat in happiness. The little tan stallion stood up a bit taller at his father's words, proud that he had pleased him, and imagining what he saw: a fit young stallion, with a short brown mane, and white dapples running the length of his body, from his shoulders to his upper legs. His pink cock jutted out more than expected, being thinner and less massive than his father's fat monster, and was rock-hard from the treatment he was getting. He suddenly remembered what he had been told to do, and got down on the floor.

"On all fours, slut-stallion," the instruction came, as if Bucephalus had read his mind. "Show me that hole." The horse's deep voice was thickening with lust now, a heady drawl that had Perch panting. He quickly readjusted, rear facing the other horse, flicking his tail about, cheekily -- now revealing his doughnut, now obscuring it. Bucephalus growled and grabbed the tail, pulling it up roughly. "I didn't ask for a fucking show, boy." Perch bobbed his head down in silent apology.

"S--sorry daddy." No response; Perch heard him breathing quietly for a few seconds, then a grunt, and a finger was suddenly circling his asshole. His father must have knelt down. The finger lazily twirled around the outside of his pucker, and Perch whinnied softly; it felt incredible. The finger flicked across it, then poked at the centre, almost entering it, but not quite. Perch had only ever experimented with toys before, and toys couldn't do what his father's hand was doing. The finger returned to circling outside, while another was suddenly thrust into him. Perch gave a gasp of pleasure, at the same time that Bucephalus snorted.

"Well, this is an unexpected delight. Already slick and lubed up for me? You knew what you wanted to happen tonight, didn't you? Such a good little slut: getting ready for daddy, before you even met me." The finger slid in deeper, and Perch's anus practically vibrated with delight. His breathing sped up and he bit his lip. There was a special spot just inside, and he wondered if his father knew--

Every muscle in his body contracted suddenly as one, as the probing finger found what Perch had been thinking of. His eyes squeezed shut, flickering stars filling his vision, and he whinnied long and loud, an uncontrollable noise of pure pleasure. When the sound faded out again, he realised that his father had stopped what he was doing to him. Had he done something wrong? He tried to stammer an apology, but Bucephalus just spoke over him. "Shut up. That sound...you always do that during sex, Perch?"

"I've...not had sex before, daddy. But I played with my toys and...I made that noise then, too."

Bucephalus' finger probed a little again, sending a shiver through his son. "That's good, son. That's a sexy fucking sound, and I want to hear it every time we fuck. Make sure of that."

Perch nodded quickly. "Yes -- yes daddy. I'll do it for you." He was thrilled that he could do something special to make his father happy.

Then the sensations from both fingers vanished from his rear, and Perch swallowed a sad whine. Moments later, he felt warmth surround him; Bucephalus' body was sliding over his, arms along his sides, body weight pressing down on him. Perch braced against the floor; the feeling of his father's frame against his was exquisite. But that was forgotten an instant later, when a blunt, wet cockhead bumped into his anus. His asshole flexed open greedily, almost trying to pull the cock in of its own accord. Bucephalus pushed against him, until the tip slipped in, and Perch gave another low moan. "Daddy...you're so big. Please...go slow..."

Bucephalus paused for just a moment, and then thrust forward suddenly, sliding several inches of his cock deep into Perch with a grunt. "I'll do as I fucking please, slut." Perch's eyes watered as he was stretched by the thick meat, and he tried to stifle a pained yelp. Bucephalus continued pushing in, nickering at the pleasure of a tight but well-lubed hole pressing against his dick. When his medial bumped up gently against Perch's ass, he stopped. He placed a hand on Perch's shoulder, massaging it softly.

"Hot ass, son. And so tight...whatever toys you used before, they didn't prepare you for me, did they?" He chuckled. "You'll be nice and loose after this, that's for sure." Pulling his hips upwards, he slid most of his length out of Perch; the little horse immediately felt empty, and hated it.

"No, please daddy, I can do it, I'll be strong for you. Please, I need your cock in me, daddy!" Any amount of pain was worth it to feel his father's dick deep inside him. He needed it back desperately, more than he'd ever needed anything.

Bucephalus laughed dismissively. "You think I was pulling out? Slut, I don't give the smallest shit how _strong_you are for me. You're going to get fucked: that's decided. Just be daddy's good little fuck-mare and take it like a stallion." With a strong thrust, he pushed back into Perch, sliding past the medial this time. Perch shuddered under him; there was less pain now, and so much more pleasure. Perch knew what he needed to say.

"Deeper, daddy, please! Fuck my ass, daddy. Fuck me! Make me your mare!"

Bucephalus growled and pushed in roughly, until he hilted in Perch with a final little thrust. His massive nuts rested on top of Perch's much smaller ones, and he flexed his cock, making Perch feel every inch of it, wrapped in his hot, tight flesh. It was a perfect moment. And then Bucephalus began.

The powerful stallion knew just what to do to the submissive little horse under him. His hips worked like an engine, powered by lust. From different angles, he pummelled Perch, cock riding in and out of him at breakneck speed. Soft grunts punctuated the motion. Balls smacked against balls. Every time the medial ring or the crowned flare tip crossed Perch's prostate, he squealed lustily. The smell of sweating stallions had finally overpowered the scent of horse pre in the room, and every snorted breath that Perch now took filled his nose with the smell of his father, and of his own arousal, and of clean animal sweat. Everything smelled of sex. He pushed back, needing to have as much of that daddy dick inside him as he possibly could, lost in a private world of pleasure.

Perch could not have said how long that continued for. He swayed slightly, in time with the thrusts, and mumbled mindless utterances of desire. He felt stuffed with his father's cock, and worshipped it. Nothing he'd ever felt before had come close to this. The feeling just built and built, and even though he had not touched himself -- as commanded -- he could tell it would soon crest.

"Daddy...daddy, I can't...I'm close daddy..." he gasped, desperate to tell his father before it was too late. He wouldn't like that, Perch was sure.

Bucephalus huffed. "Then cum for me, fuck-mare." He redoubled his efforts, and Perch's mouth fell open, the same long and loud whinny of earlier bursting out from him as his cock jerked and sprayed his seed all over the floor. His testicles rose so high, they practically disappeared inside his abdomen. The orgasm was explosive, and Perch forgot all but the feeling of his ass tightening against the horse prick buried inside him. It became more than he could bear; his arms buckled, and the front of his body fell forward, half-insensate, leaving his ass raised in the air.

Bucephalus seemed to be trying to hold back, but nobody could have resisted the feeling of that tight, slick hole as it fluttered and squeezed his massive dick in the throes of orgasm. With a loud trumpeting, Bucephalus came. Cum exploded into Perch, and almost instantly spurted out, as the masterful fucking continued apace, squeezing hot seed out around the puffy hole. Perch felt it dripping down his legs, and groaned in delirious ecstasy. This was everything he wanted...his daddy's cock, filling him with seed, marking him forever as his. His hands tightened and he buried his face in the bedroom carpet, trying to burn the feeling of this moment into his mind forever.

A short while later, Bucephalus was done. Still docked inside his son, he gasped for breath, looking down at the sloping back of the horse under him, muscles loose, mane sweat-soaked. His son waited, patiently. He was owned now; it was not his place to do or say anything until his daddy was finished. When he did finally feel that glorious cock withdraw, he gave a sad little cry, already missing it. His father stood up, but Perch remained on the floor, ass raised high, allowing his father to see what he had done to him. He dared to speak.

"Th--thank you, daddy. I'm so happy to be full of your cum, daddy, it's all I want." He bit his lip, and waited. He just wanted to make his father happy...had he?

"You did good, son." Perch almost wagged his tail like a dog when he heard that. "Daddy enjoyed fucking you very much. Get up, boy." Perch scrambled to his feet, tightening his hole to keep his father's gift inside, and looked up into his steel-blue eyes with simple-minded adoration. "Are you keeping my cum inside you, slut?" Perch nodded. "Don't. Loosen that cute hole, boy, and let it out." Perch relaxed instantly, and the cum continued dripping out of him, sliding down ticklishly through the hair of his legs and making him giggle. "You don't need to save it, son; I'll be giving you more every day. Fresh and warm. That's daddy's most important job now. Because that's what good daddies do." Perch gave a wide grin of delight at the thought, which melted into an 'O' as his father leant down and kissed him deeply. He closed his eyes and kissed back, his little body aglow with total and perfect happiness. Nothing would ever go wrong again, he was sure of it. He was exactly where he was supposed to be.

Bucephalus kissed his son, enjoying the adoration of the pliable little stallion. It would not take much more to finish moulding this one. He gripped his lithe waist, and smiled a private smile.