FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The video started out black. Scrabbling noises played as something scratched over the microphone. After a few seconds, there was motion in the darkness; the auto-focus kicked in, and dark horse fur could be seen, pressed tightly against the lens. Then the picture blurred, and light flooded in. When it settled, the icy blue eye of a stallion was looking into it.

The horse frowned and seemed to fiddle with buttons behind the camera. "This fucking thing..." he muttered in a deep voice, as the picture alternately zoomed in, turned sepia, and flipped into portrait mode. The horse turned his head and yelled off to the side. "Perch! Come and help me with this camera!"

A voice from off-screen said something; it wasn't loud enough to make out. The horse frowned. "It doesn't fucking matter what you wear, Perch! He's coming here to get fucked, not to judge your fucking wardrobe! Help me get this camera working!" The image went through several further permutations, none of them right. The horse looked into the lens and growled. His head turned again, ears perked. "What?" The off-screen voice mumbled again, and the view jerked and rotated, showing off a large lounge. "On the back of...wait, this is a screen? I can barely see a fucking thing."

The view bobbed as buttons were pressed, making faint beeps. The clop of hooves could be heard approaching, and another horse walked into view; a young, tan stallion, wearing nothing but a skirt. He approached the camera and reached for it, eyes rolling. "I told you to leave it for me..." The beskirted horse's voice was soft and feminine.

"You took too long, Perch," the other horse said gruffly. "It's fine. I think I fixed it." There was a long sigh from Perch as his fingers closed around the lens, and the view dropped to look down at the floor. Another beep sounded out, and the view reset to normal.

"It definitely wasn't fine, Daddy. You sure are bad at technology for such a smart stallion." The other horse just gave a snort at that. Meanwhile, Perch held the camera up, facing the two of them. He stuck his tongue out in concentration, walking forwards and leaning a knee onto a couch before reaching out to affix the camera to a tripod. The auto-focus kicked in; both horses could now be seen clearly, standing in the wide-open lounge. They made an incongruous pair: a huge, dark Friesian stallion and the shorter, lithe one. The Friesian, wearing a t-shirt and loose workout pants, was standing with his arms crossed behind the other stallion. His eyes were locked to the younger stallion's rear while the young horse looked at the camera, unaware. Perch waved excitedly.

"There! All ready. Wave for the camera, Daddy. Say, um..." He bounced his head from side to side as he thought for a second. "Okay, say hello, my name is Bucephalus and I'm making a sex tape with my son." Perch turned his head to look at Bucephalus, but when he saw where the other horse was looking, he blushed prettily and slid his hands down to cover a buttock each. "Dadddddy...." he said, in a tone filled with equal parts embarrassment and arousal.

Bucephalus snorted and flicked some strands of long mane away from his face. "Move your hands, Perch," he said, taking a leisurely step towards the other stallion. A generous bulge in his slacks was highlighted by the side-to-side motion of his thighs: sausage-shaped, with two eggs under it.

Perch shook his head. "Nuh-uhhhh..." His hands squeezed his ass instead, grabbing the flesh and massaging it, pulling it inwards and then out. The Friesian snorted again and raised his upper lip. A damp spot was forming in his pants.

"You're the one who came downstairs nearly naked, son," he said. "You can't stand there like that and expect nothing to happen." His slow approach finally brought him up right behind the smaller horse. He tucked his ox-like head into the crook of his son's neck, and his hands slid down his partner's arms. "You're teasing Daddy with that firm little ass of yours, and that's naughty..."

Perch's eyes closed, and his head tilted in to rest against Bucephalus'. "I'm noooot...you said it doesn't matter what I wear, so I'm...still deciding..." His words broke up a little when Bucephalus' roving hands reached his own and pulled them away from his buttocks. The big stallion replaced them with his own hands, squeezing as he pushed his crotch up against the smaller horse. "D--daddy...not now..." Perch managed to pant, even his body leaned backwards hungrily into his tall, strong partner. It looked as if his smaller body could simply melt into the other stallion's chest and be enfolded in his arms. "Sven will be here soon..."

"Fuck Sven," Bucephalus growled. "Maybe I want to fuck you, right now. Right here." He nipped his son's ear and made him gasp. "He can watch if he wants, I don't care. He can jerk off that hooded cock of his and wish it was him in your place..."

Perch bit his lip, his expression anguished. His skirt was tenting a little. "You already had me this morning...and at lunch...and you promised..."

Bucephalus sniffed down Perch's neck, his huge nostrils flaring to pull in as much of the feminine stallion's scent as possible. "Hmf. Fine. But let me just see here..." The little horse squealed suddenly and leapt forward; behind him, at ass level, one of Bucephalus' hands had a single finger extended. The tall Friesian chuckled, with an evil grin. "You're such an easy little bitch, son..."

Perch stuck his tongue out at him and smoothed down the disturbed hair on his sides with a prim motion. "And you're a big horny stallion who can't keep his dick in his pants!"

"Just the way you like it," came the reply, and the little horse rolled his eyes. The end of his penis could be seen poking out from under the bottom of his skirt now.

"The eighties called, you big dolt, they want their clichés--" His retort was cut off, and his ears pricked forward, at the just-audible sound of a doorbell. "Oh -- I think Sven is here!" He hurried over to a mirror and fussed at his mane.

"Perch..."

"Yes, Daddy," the little horse said, impatiently, "I'll open now, just let me--"

"No, Perch." The stallion's tone was a little different now, and Perch bent around to face him as he fiddled with a knot. Bucephalus nodded down at his skirt. "Take it off."

Perch blushed, hands lowering to smooth the front of the skirt. It just brought the outline of his thickening cock into more relief. "But...I have to open the door..." He looked out of the window, into the dusk. "People will see..."

"I know," Bucephalus replied, and reached down to fondle himself. "Take it off, Perch." His voice grew huskier, and even over a recording, it left goosebumps. "Now."

Perch bit his lip and tucked his thumbs into the sides of the skirt. "Okay, Daddy..." He began to pull the fabric down, slowly exposing the top of his sheath, and then the base of his cock -- but he stopped just before the skirt would have fallen to his ankles. Wordlessly, he looked across at Bucephalus -- and then stuck his tongue out again. Bucephalus snorted and tossed his mane out of his eyes again with a flick of his huge head.

"Take it off. Now." His lip was high in flehmen, and his tail swished from side to side. "Brat."

Perch swayed a little to either side, eyes locked to his partner. "Maaaaybe...maybe I don't wanna..." One hand teased down a bit, only to rise back and let the other take a turn, see-sawing the edge of the skirt back and forth. He giggled, and Bucephalus whinnied. The Friesian's bulge had grown a lot.

"Don't fucking tease me, slut-stallion..." He spoke with authority, but there was no steel in his tone. It was more the command of someone who knew there was a series of things to be said before the desired outcome could be achieved.

"And what'll you do to me if I don't, you...you big horsey dum-dum?" the cocky young stallion asked. Bucephalus answered by gripping his cock through his pants, the girth easily visible through the thin fabric. Perch huffed and licked his lips.

"I'll never fuck you with this again, how about that?" Bucephalus said, and Perch gave a whinny of his own. He whisked the skirt to his feet in a quick motion, letting his dropped cock hang freely. The doorbell rang faintly a second time, and Perch looked towards it, then back to Bucephalus. "But...what if someone seeeees..."

Bucephalus turned, walking back towards the couch and settling into it, to one side of the camera. The angle and height ensured most of him was visible. "Then you tell them exactly what I taught you, son," he replied. When Perch did not respond, one eyebrow rose. "Well?"

Perch rubbed at his sheath and swayed a little. "Uhm...h--hello, sir. My name is Percheron. I am a slut-stallion. I am only good to be fucked by my daddy, Bucephalus, because his cock makes me moan like the fuck-mare I am." His eyes drank in that cock now, proud under the Friesian's clothes.

"...and then?" Bucephalus prompted, when he paused.

Perch's cock had hardened rapidly as he spoke the mantra, and he gripped it now as he continued. "Daddy says...that because I'm such a dick-slut, I have to offer my ass to anyone who asks for it." Turning slowly, the horse bent down and lifted his tail, letting it curve up and over his back, revealing the warm, inviting doughnut underneath it. "W--would you like to use my hole, sir?"

"Very good, Perch." Bucephalus waved a hand at him. "Now you can let Sven in."

Perch disappeared off camera, and there was the sound of a door opening. Low conversation followed, and Bucephalus sighed to himself. "Perch!" he yelled. "Don't give him the line, dumbass! He wouldn't know where to stick his dick if your ass had arrows pointing to it!"

"Sorry, Daddy!" could be heard, and a few seconds later, he re-entered the frame, followed by a buff reindeer carrying a small bag. Sven had no lights decorating his antlers tonight: all he wore was a button-up shirt and jeans. His eyes had been following Perch's swinging cock as he came in, and now they snapped to Bucephalus on the couch. He smiled, lowering his upper body smoothly in a deep bow towards the Friesian.

"Hello, horse-god." His northern European accent was slight.

Perch pulled a face. "I thought I was the horse god?" he grumbled.

"Don't be a bitch, Perch. Bitches don't get fucked," Bucephalus said. He raised his hand and gestured the stag closer with a hooked finger; Sven dropped his little bag to the floor and moved closer, as if drawn inexorably by an invisible wire. When he stood before the stallion, he took a deep breath and lowered himself to his knees. On the way down, his hands caught at the top of Bucephalus' pants and pulled them along, letting the mottled black-and-pink cock within flop out. The reindeer released his breath slowly.

"Your sceptre is without equal, my lord," he said with reverence. He brought his head down to nuzzle against the flesh, rubbing the sides of his muzzle against it. "It guides me and directs me..." He dug his nose into the horse's sheath, breathing in deeply; a shiver of delight ran all along his fur. "The smell of the horse-god is my perfume," he whispered, lifting his hands to rest them against the tall stallion's powerful thighs as he absorbed the horse's scent.

Bucephalus' hand came up and gripped the stag's antler, forcing him down until his face was pressed even more firmly against his cock. The reindeer shut his eyes, and only the occasional flick of his tongue -- licking against the cock-flesh alongside him -- indicated he still had autonomy.

"You can use all the fancy words you like, cocksleeve," Bucephalus said, his sonorous voice making the subwoofer vibrate as the video played, "but you're just Perch with an accent. Just another desperate, greedy sub that knows he needs a horse dick buried inside him to feel whole. That's why you showed up tonight. Perch, come here." Perch trotted over obediently. "Stick a finger up his ass," the bigger stallion commanded, and Perch looked down at the stag's rear dubiously. Sven flagged his tail high, and a happy whimper could be heard on the recording. "Any time now, slut-stallion," Bucephalus snapped. "I know you know what to do; I've heard you fingering yourself when you think I'm asleep." Perch's ears flattened and he blushed, but he dropped his hand and Sven's body jerked forward a little, and his ears flattened, as the tan stallion's finger penetrated him. Bucephalus took one of the stag's ears between two fingers and lifted it back up, speaking into it.

"Listen closely, you Scandinavian fuck. I know you're getting all excited now that there's something up your ass, and you're thinking you're just going to be used all night like the dick-magnet you are. But that's not a given at all, alright? You have to earn the right to get fucked. Aim for his prostate, son," the horse said to Perch, and the smaller stallion wiggled his finger about a bit before hitting a spot that made the stag's body jerk again, and his mouth drop open with a gasp. He tried to raise his head, but Bucephalus flexed his arm and held him down. "I'm not done explaining, bitch," he snarled. "I know you like to think of yourself as a buck of culture, so let me put it all into terms that your fancy fucking brain can assimilate."

"You're at my house for a dinner party again. But instead of food, all three courses are sex -- and you're the help. What's happening right now...this is the apéritif. Everyone is getting nice and tipsy, drunk on horniness, ready to enjoy the rest of the night." He took his cock in his free hand and pressed it against Sven's cheek; the stag's pink tongue flicked out, trying to lick it. "There, that's your taste. Now, you need to serve us the starter, and I've got a lovely assistant to help you out with that." He looked up at Perch. "Show me your finger." Perch dutifully pulled it out of the reindeer and held it up; it glistened with lube. "You always know how to prepare, don't you, you greedy fucking stag-bitch," Bucephalus said with satisfaction. "Perch -- go upstairs and fetch your favourite big friend. The one that looks like me."

Perch's mouth made an 'o', and he dashed upstairs. Bucephalus rubbed his cock against the stag while they waited for him to return; Sven whimpered happily and tried to lick it whenever it got close to his mouth. When Perch re-entered the frame, he was carrying an enormous, black horse cock dildo. It looked like it might have been cast from the real thing, except that this one was permanently flared, and the shaft was barely thinner than the top. The Cyclopean beast looked fit to destroy any ass foolish enough to attempt it. Bucephalus nodded at the centre of the lounge. "Just put it there."

Perch did, looking excited. "You didn't tell me about this!" He bounced up and down, and his cock did likewise. The little stallion had become very hard from all the flirting and sex play, and his prick stood out stiffly from his crotch.

"I'm allowed to surprise my son, aren't I?" Bucephalus replied. Perch blushed deeply and skipped closer, planting a kiss on Bucephalus' forehead. Bucephalus patted him absently on the butt, and pulled his cock away from Sven, releasing his grip on the stag's antler. "Get up," the big horse said, and the reindeer got to his feet with reluctance. His eyes remained locked on the fat prick that now snaked along Bucephalus' thigh. The stallion pointed to the dildo sticking up stiffly in the centre of the room. "There's your partner for the night. His name is Punisher--"

"Punisherrrr..." interrupted Perch, breathlessly, staring at the big toy with wide, hungry eyes. Clearly, he'd had experience with it before. His hips gyrated up and down a little unconsciously, and his tail rose. Bucephalus looked up at him with exasperation, and then back at Sven.

"Yes...Punisher, and he acts as a poor substitute for me when I'm not around." He stood up and kicked off his half-lowered pants: the camera captured one firm ass-cheek and a semi-hard, swinging dick. "For this." The stallion sat back down, stretching one arm out along the top of the couch and flexing his bicep.

"You're going to use Punisher to get us juuust full enough of lust," he continued. "Just enough to make us want the next course. Then -- if you and your handsome assistant do a good enough job -- you get to have my sexy son here for your main." His head turned, looking up at Perch, who was vibrating with excitement. "He's decided that he might want to be a stallion after all, like his dad, instead of the tail-lifting mare he's been all his life. I think he'll be a mare no matter what he does" -- Perch slapped a hand against him at that, but the dark-haired stallion ignored it -- "but I'm going to be a good father and teach him how it's done. So: you're to be the canvas for that lesson." He snorted. "Wait, not a canvas...what's a food-related...cutting board? No..." He waved his self-interruption away with a flick of his hand. "Forget it. Why am I wasting my metaphors on you sluts, huh? Point is: you're gonna strip for us. And play with Punisher. And then Perch is gonna fuck you while I teach him the ropes. And then..." He took his dick in hand, slapping it against his thigh meatily. "If that all goes to my satisfaction, then I'll fuck you." He shrugged. "Or not. I'll see how I feel, you pathetic lovesick antler queen."

Sven had stood before the stallion, stock-still, as his instructions for the night were rattled off. The front of his jeans was straining to hold back the meat inside, with a large wet spot marking the level of his arousal. His shirt buttons were being pulled taut as his chest heaved, and his hands were shaking ever so slightly. He brought them together in a prayerful pose, and the shaking stopped. "I am blessed to serve you, lord," he said huskily. "And doubly blessed to be the vessel for your...son's apotheosis." There was the briefest pause there. Hardly noticeable, or distinguishable from taking a breath. But Bucephalus seemed to notice. The hand resting on the couch tightened -- fingers digging into the fabric -- and without warning a hoof kicked out, catching the stag in the shin. Sven fell back down onto his knees with a grunt. He looked up at his host, and what he saw there must have scared him, for his face took on a fearful expression. The stallion said nothing, though, and after a few moments, pointed silently at the dildo in the middle of the room.

"Watch yourself. And go do your job." As Sven got back onto his feet, the Friesian snapped his fingers at Perch, hovering warily off to the side. "Son. Come sit here next to me. Showtime."

The stag and the horse moved past one another, and Perch settled in next to Bucephalus, leaving a gap for the camera to see between them. As Sven fussed a little with the dildo, the little horse leaned in towards his father, pitching his voice low enough to not be heard by the reindeer.

"Daddy, that was mean! Sven did nothing!"

"Sven knows what he did," Bucephalus replied, neither looking at his son nor bothering to keep his voice down. "He was impertinent on his previous visit as well. He will watch what he says, or he will find himself barred from this house...and all similar houses." The stag's thick fur hid any paling of his skin, but he dipped his head and wrung his hands.

"Forgive me, lord," he stammered, and the anguish of his tone was almost painful to hear. "I have failed you, and my punishment is deserved. I--I beg forgiveness in this -- but once -- and also permission to redouble my worship of your glorious nature." He was shaking a little, and the tent in his jeans had all but vanished.

Bucephalus started laughing halfway through and kept going even after Sven stopped talking. The reindeer stood stiffly, his face a hollow mask as his host's laughter rolled over him like an avalanche. Eventually, it trailed off, and the big stallion turned to look at Perch with amusement. "Can you believe this fucking guy? See, son...like I keep saying. Love is just another handle to use to twist people around into the shape you want. Don't fall into that trap, or you end up like Sven: spending your life going from house to house, spouting mealy mouthed pandering in the hope that it'll culminate in being fucked, just so that you can pretend that being filled with dick is the same as not being completely, utterly alone."

Even through the recording, the temperature in the room could be felt to drop. None of the three said anything for a little while: Sven's head hung down, looking at the carpet. Perch was sitting up stiffly, fingers white against his leg, and Bucephalus simply lazed, his mass pressed into the couch, nodding slightly to himself as if satisfied with something.

"I think Sven is brave to love a big scary stallion like you who never does anything nice for him and only wants to use him for sex. I think Sven is braver than a lot of people who wouldn't want to spend time with you because you're always mean to...to them. Maybe Sven sees something else in you and keeps coming back to try to dig it out it and make you better."

Perch's voice was quiet but firm. Bucephalus' huge head turned towards him with an incredulous expression. "What the fuck was that, Perch? When did you take fucking psychology lessons, dick-slut?"

Perch shrugged, looking at Sven and avoiding Bucephalus' eyes. "I can be smart, Daddy. I can learn."

That elicited another thunderous laugh, and a hand wiped away a tear. "Yeah, right," the stallion said. "Maybe don't read as many bullshit self-help blogs, Perch. You don't need them; you have me." He turned back to look at Sven, who was staring at Perch with a bewildered expression. "The lovesick idiot can redeem himself with a good show." He clopped one hoof on the ground a couple of times. "Make us hard, Sven."

"Yes, lord," Sven said. Any sign of the unhappiness of before was wiped away; were it not captured on film, it would have been hard to say that it was ever there. He held his head tall, and his antlers spread out wide: a grand and welcoming banner, inviting all to try the pleasures of the fair. There was a slight smile on his face, and a hand teased deftly at the buttons of his shirt. It appeared that he'd done this sort of thing before. "A little music, horse-god?" he queried, and Bucephalus picked up a control on the side table next to him. A few keypresses, and soft music began to play. Except, not music: moans. Deeply sexual moans that made Perch gasp and slap a hand to his mouth.

"BUCEPHALUS!" he screeched through his fingers. "Is that ME?! When did you record that!?"

"First night we fucked, slut-stallion," his partner replied blithely, putting the remote down and taking his cock in hand. "Microphone in the ceilings. First time's always a keeper." A slap on the bicep was ignored again, with only the retort, "Don't sound so fucking hot when you get dicked, then, fuck-mare." He tapped his flare towards Sven. "Sven, I can still bend my dick. Fix that."

Sven's Adam's apple bobbed up and down as the moans played out, and the tent in his pants grew visible again. He closed his eyes, swaying gently from side to side. Fingers plucked at the buttons on his shirt, releasing them one by one. Dense chest fur was revealed as they popped open, covering a pair of muscular pecs and oddly pink nipples that looked like raspberries in a sea of cream. Below the pecs, his abs stood out through the fur like snow-covered hills, rolling off into the distance. When the last button was undone, he pulled the shirt open and took a nipple in each hand; a happy, breathy sigh flowed from his mouth, merging with the erotic sounds of Perch getting rammed. The reindeer tweaked his nips back and forth, his pants twitching noticeably with each turn, and then spread his fingers to massage each pec, giving his hosts a good look at how thick and firm they were.

Bucephalus was hardening slowly, but Perch's dick had shot up like a rocket as soon as the stag's chest came into view. He was stroking himself eagerly, eyes fixed on the antlered stud. Bucephalus looked across at him and snorted. "Make sure you don't cum yet, son. That load is for Sven's colon."

Sven moaned louder at that, and with a few rapid motions got rid of his shirt entirely. He ran one hand up and down his abs and rubbed his bulge with the other. Under his brows, hazel eyes were focused on Perch and the horse cock he had between his legs. "Do I please you, horse-lord?" he asked, and when Perch nodded happily, he sighed with pleasure. "I am glad. You are beautiful, and I must pleasure you with all my doings." He stopped fondling himself and began to undo the top button of his jeans. "Your cock is magnificent, master. Just to see it makes me need you to be inside me." The button popped, and the zip followed. "Oh, I wish to be fucked by you, lord," Sven cried. "Fucked with equine power until you empty yourself inside me, and then again, and a third time. I wish to carry all your seed within me. I am your temple, cock-king: fill me with your body's riches, I beg."

He tugged his pants. No underwear got in the way of the thick, uncut meat that popped out, and Sven quickly pushed them down further and kicked them away. Perch's recorded moans still filled the air, now accompanied by a backing track of fresh ones as the young stallion looked over the muscled reindeer stud standing before him. Sven raised his arms and locked his hands behind his head, lowering them down to make his arm muscles bulge and his chest stretch; Perch made a choked noise and stroked harder.

"Daddy," he said in a high trill, "he's so sexyyyy..."

Bucephalus had hardened to full mast as the stag's show continued, and was playing with his balls lazily as his other hand circled his corona. "Well, I don't want you learning to fuck from some hideous river monster, do I, Perch? Sven's brain might be broken, but he takes proper care of his body." He put a hand on Perch's thigh, stroking it. "You looking forward to fucking him?"

The nod was cautious. "I...I think so. Will you show me what to do?"

"Of course, son. I'll be there every thrust of the way."

Perch smiled at him, then turned back to the stag show. "His dick is so weird, Daddy," he squealed. "I like it."

Sven looked down, taking his hard member in hand. "I remember, horse-son. You enjoy my foreskin." The tight skin was exposing most of the head, and he pulled it back until the rest was revealed: a bulbous pink glans, wet with pre-cum "It is not so strange where I come from...but here, I am exotic." He smiled. "It pleases you, so it pleases me. Shall I play with it more for you?" His eyes smouldered. "I think of you as I do, watching your own staff, dreaming of it inside me..."

"No need to dream, slut," Bucephalus interrupted him. "Show him rather." He gestured at the dildo to the side of the reindeer. "Give my son a taste of the sort of thing that makes you all wet for horses."

Sven nodded, looking down at the dildo. "Yes, horse-god." He reached down to pick it up by the oversized flare, then seemed to have a better idea. Putting it down again, he turned to face his ass towards the horses, bent over, and gripped his ass-cheeks with his hands, spreading them apart. His short tail stuck up straight, revealing the pale cleft that ran down to meet his pink hole. He made it flex as if inviting his hosts in.

Bucephalus snorted at the sight, gripping his dick tighter. "That's what you're after, son," he said. Perch was looking at the stag's asshole intently, and did not respond. "That's the prize. They might play hard to get for a while, but eventually, they'll give it to you. Because you're a fucking stallion, and they're desperate for horse cock." The hand on Perch's thigh slid towards his crotch, and then up his belly. "We have the power, Perch," the big stallion insisted. "We're in control. You need to make them work for it, alright? Don't just give it up on the spot, then you're as bad as them. Assert your ownership of their needy holes. Tease it out. Make them beg." He gave Sven a wolf-whistle and chuckled. "How many horses have fucked that pretty ring this week so far, Sven?"

"Thirteen, horse-lord," Sven's voice was thick. "Thirteen equine masters have blessed me this week. I pray to make that sixteen -- uh, fifteen tonight." Perhaps the stag was too drunk on lust to do simple math.

"Thirteen horse cocks have pummelled that hole since Monday, son, and look how tight it still looks. That's why Sven's your training bitch. That's why I put up with his impossible bullshit. There ain't another fucking ass like his in the whole city." The hand sliding up Perch's lean body slid behind his neck, and pushed the little stallion's head down, down, towards the sable pillar rising from his crotch. "Suck Daddy off a little while Sven finishes our starter, Perch," he said lazily, and Perch made a noise of delight that was muffled once his father's flare popped into his mouth. Eager, wet noises drowned out the background moaning, and Bucephalus looked straight ahead, watching the stag. Sven had turned at hearing what the Friesian said, and watched Perch's suckling with undisguised envy. Bucephalus made a rolling motion with a finger.

"Give me a good show with Punisher, Sven, and I'll give you something better than a blowjob."

Sven nodded quickly, repositioning the dildo behind him and then standing over it. With eyes locked to the stallion sucking on Bucephalus' cock, he slowly lowered himself. The flare caught against his ring for a second, but a firm push down made it pop in; his expression immediately transformed, becoming beatific. His first moan was low, but as the ersatz equine phallus sank deeper, he lifted his head, let his mouth hang open, closed his eyes, and moaned much louder. One hand slid down his body to grip the very base of his dick, and the other ran back and forth across his chest, thumb flicking at his nipples on every pass. Down he sank, pushing the thick latex toy ever deeper, and beginning to mutter things; dipping in and out of English as his concentration wavered.

"Yes...please...fuck me, master, fuck your servant...drive into me, transform me, make me an extension of you...voi luoja, kullisi on kaikki mitä halajan...!"

He was past the medial now, and still descending. His cockhead was angrily purple, and little squirts of pre-cum shot out of it every few seconds. The reindeer's massive legs were supporting his entire body now, thighs bracing like steel beams as his ass swallowed inch after inch of the gigantic horse-dick toy. Only when a couple of inches remained visible -- and he was at risk of falling over -- did he pause. Over twenty inches of toy was buried inside him. He groaned ecstatically.

"Look at that, Perch," Bucephalus said, and Perch's head turned towards their guest, without letting his father's cock leave his mouth. "He's clever...he uses his antlers to balance himself so he can go all the way down like that. Feeding the black hole he has for an ass." Sven was flexing his legs now, making his entire body bob up and down on the toy. No more than an inch -- but that was enough, apparently. His dick was squirting even more now, and his stream of quasi-religious exhortations had been reduced to a repeated, "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me...".

"Hear that, Perch? The slut wants his horse," Bucephalus said softly. He put a hand under Perch's muzzle and pushed him off his cock; the flare came out with a schlorp, and Perch whinnied needily.

"Please Daddy pleeeease please I want to suck you off please please..." he whined. His hands took the long obsidian length, massaging it and trying to pull it closer, but Bucephalus just pushed him further away. He snapped his fingers to get Sven's attention; the stag's eyes fluttered open, and he looked lustily at his host.

"Present yourself, deerfuck," he commanded, and the reindeer rose with a groan, legs pushing him up like steam pistons. The sexy toy came with, not even slipping out an inch; his ass was keeping that beast deep inside it. He walked -- a little awkwardly -- towards the two horses and turned, going down on all fours with his ass facing them. The dildo stuck out of him obscenely, and Bucephalus took the base in one hand and eased it out. The stag's moans of pleasure drowned out all other sounds, and only when the fat flare popped out did he fall somewhat silent again. He was panting hard, but the horses didn't seem to notice: both were drinking in the now-decently-stretched hole that had been presented for their pleasure.

"You're all horny now, huh, Perch?" the Friesian asked, horniness thickly spread over his own words. The little stallion squirmed and nodded, continuing to stare curiously at the crimson reindeer asshole before him. Bucephalus stuck two fingers into it, spreading them apart to show a little of the interior. "The answer is in there, son," he said. "It's warm, and tight, and soft, and feels soooooo fucking good on your dick..." He shook his head a little and looked across at Perch. The young stallion's eyes were wide, and his dick was hard. He reached out slowly to stick a finger in, as he had done before.

"It is soft..."

"Yeah. Don't you remember from earlier?"

"I never...thought about it." He glanced at the other stallion. "Can...can I fuck him, daddy? You'll show me what to do?"

"Yes, son. Like I told you," Bucephalus said. "Just stick your cock into Sven, and I'll guide you." He snorted. "Maybe you actually have some stallion instincts deep inside that'll kick in. I won't hold my breath, though."

The younger stallion didn't seem to hear, entranced by the reindeer's asshole. He stood up, cock bobbing before him like an eager animal. He took a step forward, coming up right behind Sven, and lifted his cock to rest it at the entrance. Perch's penis was several inches shorter than the toy, and thinner -- although that would be true for nearly all horses -- but his flare was almost of a size. He looked nervous, and kept glancing back to Bucephalus for confirmation. The big stallion nodded at him; he was stroking himself again, eyes fixed on the stag hole.

"Go on, Perch. Just push in. You don't have to go slow, he's not a princess like you. Fuck his ass, son."

Perch giggled and leaned forward, sinking into the reindeer, making the antlered stud moan in delight. His mouth widened. "Ohh...ohhhh...daddy, it feels so...ohhhh..." He pressed forward harder, and very soon his crotch bumped up against the stag's ass-cheeks. He stood dumbly, face slack, fingers tight against the stag's sides. "He's so warm inside..." Awkwardly, he pulled out, taking half a step back. Sven groaned, begging softly for him to put his cock back into him until he did.

"The fires of lust burn hot in a true sub, Perch," Bucephalus rumbled. He'd dropped one hand to his monstrous balls again, holding one in his palm and stroking the dull skin with his thumb as his other hand slid up and down his cock. He'd grip right under his flare and push up, as if trying to pop it off, squeezing and twisting at the proud flesh. Pre-cum that dribbled down from his urethra made everything slick, and the squelching noises of his self-pleasuring were loud. He addressed the reindeer.

"Tell my son what you want from him, Sven. Tell him how you want him to use you." He slid a hoof under the stag's belly and teased his guest's stiff penis, trapping it against the reindeer's flat belly and moving back and forth to stimulate the loose skin. Sven groaned, but made no attempt to touch himself. His husky breathing was now louder than the pre-recorded moans. Every motion Perch made -- doubtless compounded by the foot masturbating him -- elicited a faint gasp from the reindeer. His fur was standing erect all along his back. When he responded to Bucephalus' taunt, it was in an abject, desperate voice that would have been pathetic if it was not laced with urgent sexual neediness.

"Horse-son, fuck-master...I am yours. My ass is yours. Please use me as a tool for your pleasure. Use me hard. Use me..." His voice broke up briefly, and he tried to compose himself. "Use me like an animal to be broken, my equine god. Fuck my ass until I forget what it is to not be filled with your heavenly cock-flesh." Again, his voice broke, but he collected it.

"Show me that you fuck better than your sire, horse-son," he said.

Bucephalus whinnied and pushed himself to his feet, standing next to Sven and looking down at him with a thunderous expression. The stag's face still looked downward, and he did not meet his host's eyes. The godlike cock of the tall Friesian arched outward, its shadow laying across the reindeer's wide back like a branded mark. He seemed about to speak, but then held back, and instead looked across Perch.

"You see, Perch, sluts are greedy," he said, as if explaining a dry mathematics problem. Perch's eyes were wide. "I mean, you'd know, being one of their leaders. They get...confused so easily, with all those dicks in and out of them constantly. After a while, they conflate their own value with that of the masters who breed them. They...overreach." He raised one foot and rested his hoof on the stag's back; the muscles in his leg flexed as he pressed down. "They must be broken. And re-broken. Until they understand the truth." Sven was groaning as the big stallion bore down on his back and the smaller stallion filled him from behind. Bucephalus' top lip rose: whether it was a sneer, or flehmen, was unclear. He spat onto the back of the reindeer's head.

"Horses are the masters," he growled. "We decide when, and where, and how. And I decide...now. And here. With you." He looked triumphantly at Perch. "Break him, son. Break his ass, just like he asked -- and his spirit with it." Perch nodded uncertainly, looking back down at the bottom tensed under him, and pushed into him gently. "No!" Bucephalus barked at him. "He's beefier than you, Perch, and I've fucked you harder than that! Give it to him properly! Make him remember you! Make his ass remember you! Be a stallion!"

That seemed to inflame something in the soft little horse, and his pace abruptly hastened. His technique was green; thrusts came in inconsistently from every which angle, and he paused whenever Sven made a new sound, before continuing. Bucephalus stood to the side, jerking off with his hoof still braced on the stag. His balls bobbed about between his legs as he tugged his cock up and down. He watched his son's cock driving in and out of the reindeer, and fed him instructions that seemed half for Perch and half for himself.

"Use the legs, Perch, not just the hips. Keep your angle the same. Move about slowly, only every few thrusts, hunt for the spot. There's a spot, see: an angle for a cock inside every guy that sets him off. Find it...and then hammer on that door, over and over and over until it explodes inwards and you can rush inside and take ownership of everything he has, everything he is..."

Perch slid his legs apart for support, doing his best to follow his father's instructions. His tongue stuck out of his mouth a little in concentration, and he gave sharp snorts every couple of thrusts. "Like...this...Daddy?" he asked, gasping for air. "Ohhh...I like it...it's tight..."

"Don't talk, Perch! Just fuck!"

Perch hands on the stag's sides tightened and he began to throw his entire body weight -- such that it was -- behind the motions, making the reindeer sway forward every time he slammed into him. Bucephalus' hand flew along his member, and his other hand tugged on his ball sack, tightening the skin around his orbs. "Yes, son, yes," he urged, eyes fixed to where cock met ass. "Fuck him, boy. Fuck that worthless slut, Perch, fuck him hard. Fuck him like daddy fucks you, son..."

Sweat was running down Perch's skin as he gave the fuck his all. He started to moan, almost in time to the recording of himself. "D--daddyyy...ohhhh...I'm c--close...ohhhh..."

Bucephalus' hoof was pulled off the stag's back and the big stallion stepped right up next to Perch. He pulled his son's face to the side and pushed his muzzle in for a sloppy kiss, still jerking off. Perch's moans climbed an entire octave and he hilted inside the stag, holding there, as his hands let go and his body quivered and he wrapped his arms around Bucephalus. The stallions kissed, noisily and wetly, and Perch's moans transformed into a scream of pleasure as his body tensed and his balls visibly hurtled upwards. He broke off the kiss to shriek. "OHHHHH...Daddy ohh fuuuuck Da--daddy I'm...ffffuuuuu...AAAAAAHHH!"

It sounded as if the young stallion was orgasming for the first time in his life.

Sven must have felt it as well as heard it, because his own cock grew purple, and jerked, and spat thick cum onto the carpet as his breeder emptied into him. He hadn't touched himself once since the dildo was removed. It was hard to make out his voice in all the fuss, but a few words were audible.

"...blessed...savour it...horse-son..."

But in all the sexual glory on display, it was Bucephalus who drew the eye. The horse's eyes were on fire, their blue irises glittering like the sun-drenched Aegean. His hand had paused in its frantic self-pleasuring, and he was looking at his son's o-face with a bizarre mixture of emotions. Lust, certainly. Need; he had not yet cum himself, of course. A surprising softness, like felt wrapped around a hard seed. And...anger. Not plainly scribed, that one: more like patterning in a cabochon, a dark, resistant vein -- revealed by time and friction -- that persists no matter how much you polish the stone that holds it. As Perch emptied himself in rapturous climax, Bucephalus watched him with wonder and love and hate...and then Sven spoke.

"Perch fucks well, horse-god," came the quavering voice. "He is your true son."

Something about that comment incensed Bucephalus. In a moment, his complex expression collapsed and was replaced by a single, far simpler one: fury. One hand grabbed Perch and pulled him back from the stag, sending the smaller horse flying onto the couch with a yelp. The big horse stepped into his place, stuck his hands along the reindeer's Adonis belt, pull him upward, and rammed his cock from root to stem into him with a roar. Sven cried out too, half in pain and half in pleasure, but he had no time to even draw a replacement breath before the horse did it again, harder. And then yet harder again.

Perch's fucking had been cautious, even at its peak. The young stallion simply didn't know what he was doing. Bucephalus was clearly not so burdened, and unaccountably furious to boot. His dick exceeded both Perch and Punisher in length and girth, and his flare had been frighteningly swollen from the extended masturbation session. That unbelievable mass was now tearing in and out of the stag, finding whatever bits of him had escaped punishment until now, and attacking him. And punishment it was: Bucephalus did not deign to listen to the noises his mate made, or even vary his rhythm to spare him discomfort. He was pouring every ounce of his significant muscle and strength into an explosion of sexual prowess. He fucked Sven like he was trying to break the poor stag into pieces. The jackhammer noise of his huge, muscled body striking into the helpless stag was clear on the video, and if it was the thunderclap, the Friesian's face -- and the rage written upon it -- was the thundercloud.

Sven's moans began to change, starting to have more discomfort in them, and less pleasure. Bucephalus did not stop. The stag reached back with one hand as if trying to get the stallion's attention. Bucephalus ignored it.

"Daddy..." Perch said in a concerned voice. "Daddy, I think Sven wants you to stop--"

The ox-like head whirled and fixed Perch with a look so devoid of paternal affection that it was as if a stranger suddenly looked out from his cerulean eyes. The tan stallion shrunk back into the couch with an unhappy sound, and the horse turned back to his prey. Sven was bleating, trying to pull away from the stallion; Bucephalus slammed a hand onto his antlers to grip them and pulled back hard, lifting the stag's entire upper body into the air and bringing their heads close together. The stag cried out, and the stallion bit his neck; the cry became another moan, and the stag attempted to bend away from it, but escape was hopeless. The horse was demonstrably stronger than him.

Bucephalus stuck his mouth next to Sven's ear, and seemed to be saying something; the video did not capture it over the sound of Perch's recorded moans and Sven's anguished noises. Whatever he said, though, seemed to take all the fight out of the reindeer. The stag's body went limp again, muscles slack and arms hanging defeated; Bucephalus pushed his body down again, releasing the antler and gripping his side again. The reindeer stood on all fours now, compliant, letting the horse assault his anus without a struggle.

The grunts of pain every time his top thrust particularly deeply, or roughly, did not stop, but they were almost entirely drowned out by the racket that Bucephalus was making. Head held high, mane flying about as he snapped his head to and fro, the big stallion was growling, trumpeting and whinnying in turn as his lower half seemed to go onto fuck autopilot. He was beautiful, terrifying, incredible. He was a force of nature, an unstoppable warrior with a wonderful, terrifying obsidian blade. He was fearsome, and sexual, and the embodiment of desire.

The great stallion fucked his chosen mare, and no force on the planet could stop him.

So frenzied was it all that when the big male's orgasm finally peaked, it was nearly hidden in the chaos of the fuck. The only signs of it were the horse bellowing even more loudly -- making the camera shake a little -- and Sven's ruined hole starting to leak cum around the horse cock that was still slamming in and out of it. Perch's load had been enough to lubricate the surface of Bucephalus' much bigger dick, but that had been all; now, the inside of the reindeer must be so steeped in horse cum that it had to escape any way it could. So, down the stag's rear it ran, soaking first into his leg fur and then into the carpet, joining the pool of semen from Sven's earlier orgasm, and the new one: the cervine's cock was squirting helplessly, ropes of cum flying onto his belly and the carpet below him in mute affirmation of his pleasure.

When Bucephalus was fully satisfied, he simply released Sven and stepped back, pulling his long, cum-covered dick out smoothly. Sven overbalanced as the mass pressing against him disappeared, and fell over, smacking wetly into his own cum-pool. His hole was enormously stretched, puffed up like an inflatable pool ring and dripping with horse seed. Bucephalus nickered, breathing heavily, and looked across at Perch on the couch.

"That's how a real stallion fucks, son. You could fuck like that someday. Maybe." He seemed to consider things. "Not soon, though."

Perch fiddled with a finger-hoof, not meeting his father's stare. "You scared me..." he said accusingly.

Bucephalus wiped his hands together, then against his thighs, trying to remove some unseen material. "Fear is part of life, Perch," he said curtly. "Sometimes you get scared. You survive." His cock swung heavily between his legs as he shifted.

"But...he wanted you to stop..."

"Did he?" Bucephalus prodded the semi-comatose reindeer with a hoof. "Sven, did you want me to stop fucking you?"

"N--no, horse-god," Sven said. He sounded stunned, but satisfied. Bucephalus gestured at him with one hand and tipped his head at his son.

"There. He's a professional slut, Perch. A hard fuck is what he lives for." Then he coughed and looked around briskly. "We're done here. Sven, I'll send you the bill for the carpet cleaning."

"...yes, horse-god."

Perch looked unsure about it all, but got to his feet. He gave Bucephalus a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. "Okay, Daddy. I'm...gonna go shower. Bye, Sven." He waved vaguely, but the stag was not even looking at him. With a final lip-bite, the young horse disappeared off-screen.

Bucephalus watched him vanish. "Bitch didn't even look at my dick," he mused. "I think your ass broke my son, Sven." He smeared some cum into the carpet with one hoof. "I don't fuck Perch like I fucked you, you ungrateful euro-slut. I hold back. He probably doesn't think so...well, he didn't before tonight. Might have an inkling now that he's not getting all of me, no matter how many inches he feels inside, hm?" He turned to look down at the stag, who was slowly pushing himself to his feet. A cum-covered hoof pushed him right back down and then pressed against his chest. The stag looked up blearily, seemingly unable to try to stop it.

"Do you think I'm a fucking idiot, Sven?" the stallion hissed. "That overly clever jab of yours was a big mistake." He pressed harder, making the stag bleat unhappily. "I hope you liked the fuck, because it's the last one you'll get. From me, or the club, or any other top in this entire pussy town. You're finished, bitch. Nobody will so much as tug your tail by the time I'm done." The hoof lifted off, and the stallion snorted hair out of his eyes. "Well...almost nobody, I think, hm? So, when you do see that other worthless piece of shit, tell him he has to satisfy you with his second-rate dick now. And you can dream about my son and I while he tries."

The reindeer got back onto his knees slowly. He seemed to have hurt his arm. "Yes, horse-god," he said, his voice the very picture of subservience. He paused. "May...I have a copy of the video, lord? To marvel at--"

The picture went wild as Bucephalus ripped the camera off its stand and seemed to hurl it at the stag. It dropped to the floor, showing cum-soaked fibres next to a four-toed hoof. "Fucking spare me the sanctimonious bullshit," the horse said, now invisible. "Take it and get out, and I hope you die alone."

Sven took the insults in his stride. "Yes, horse-lord. I am not worthy. Might I clean myself in your bathroom first?" The camera was lifted, pointing casually at the stallion as he walked away. At the last, the tall stallion turned back. His dark skin glowed under the light of a recessed bulb, shining along the hairs. The warm light brought out the maroon zorse markings along his upper arm, partly hidden by strands of his long mane. His muzzle cast a shadow over his chest, and two blue spots looked out from under a furrowed brow. His cock still hung long and loose, and cum splattered his legs.

He sighed. "Fucking take, take, take...yes, fine! Clean, and go." Then he pointed at the camera. "And turn that fucking thing off."

---

The video ended, stuck on the last frame. Bucephalus stood frozen, hand extended, the longer hairs around his wrist hanging down. A hand reached out to the screen, paused, then stroked along the picture of his face.

"Did you plant it?" The voice nearly echoed the rumbling deepness of Bucephalus.

"Y--yes," Sven said, wringing his hands nervously. "It is in the back of a drawer. He won't find it by accident."

The watcher nodded, and was silent; Sven followed suit. Eventually, the watcher spoke again. "Is there any of him left inside you?"

Sven nodded. "It...he was very..." He gulped. "He is very big, and strong. Um. Like you."

"Don't butter me up, Sven. I like it no more than my father does." Marcus switched off the screen and got to his feet. The large horse walked over to the stag and slid a hand around his back and down his pants. Sven moaned as he was penetrated for the fifth time that night. "Loosened you up real good, I can feel," the mustang murmured. He pulled his fingers out and looked at them, slick with his father's semen. He rubbed it between the tips of his fingers, then smeared them clean on Sven's neck fur. He looked at the stag thoughtfully; Sven looked back.

"I...have done everything..." he began to say, and Marcus cut him off.

"Yes, yes, I know. Come: undress."

The stag quickly disrobed, turning to brace himself against the wall. His hole was too stretched to close shut fully, and cum still leaked out of it as it fluttered in anticipation. Marcus pulled his pants down, letting his veined pink cock jump out, long and firm. After watching fucking for over an hour, he'd be hard for a long time yet. "Did you really not want him to stop fucking you?" he asked Sven as he pressed up behind him and guided his cock inside the needy stag. Sven moaned.

"I...a bit..."

"Was it too rough? I thought you liked it rough." He slid back and forth slowly.

"I...do...ahhhh...but he was so powerful..."

Marcus nodded in sympathy. "Of course," he crooned. "He was just too much for you. Poor thing. What you need now is some gentle love-making, then, to help you forget all that and truly enjoy a horse's beautiful cock, yes?" He stared down at the stag's neck, where a bold red mark indicated where Bucephalus had bitten him during their mating.

Sven's antlers waved about as he nodded happily. "Yes, horse-lord. Time to reflect, to understand the worship."

"Mhm. Bucky is still a massive, irredeemable asshole, then."

For the first time that night, something like actual venom crept into Sven's tone. "He is a bad stallion," he retorted. "He is not worthy. People do not like him, but they stroke his ego and do as he says because of...why? Why? Because he has money? Because he is attractive, because he fucks them? No! This is not right! He is not..." He made a frustrated noise. "English does not have the words." He said something rapidly in Finnish, instead, with an enormous deal of satisfaction. "He is that. This is why I help you punish him." Then his cried out again. "And always he calls me Scandinavian! I am Finnish! He is uneducated!"

Marcus chuckled. "Stags can have fangs, I see. Down, you wildcat. Heh. 'A bad stallion'...well, with that furious put-down, I'm surprised he didn't roll right over and show you his belly. Then again...you stroked his ego to get fucked by him tonight, didn't you, Sven?"

The venom crept in easier this time. "No! I do to help you! Not for horse dick! You...you have horse dick. You can fuck me." Marcus nickered in response, sliding deeper; Sven's moans like river water over pebbles as the mustang's length gave him his sixteenth stallion dick of the week.

"And what did he say to you when he whispered to you? I couldn't hear."

The stallion felt Sven's ass tense around him. "I...he said..."

"Yes?"

Sven's anus was glued tight around him now, and his voice was laced with fear. "He said...that...that I needed to stop fighting him, and let him fuck me like...like h--he fucked his son, the first night..." He gulped, shivering a little. "The first night you came to his room."

The horse slammed the stag against the wall the rest of the way, pulling back on his antler just as his father had done hours before. Sven cried out. "Daddy was right about quite a few things, slut," Marcus snarled at him. "Number one is that horses are the masters. We decide. We fuck, and you take it." He pushed forward with a grunt, and his thick cock slid into the stag with an obscenely wet noise. "You think my dad fucked you hard? Bucephalus is a fucking softcock bitch horse compared to me. He did fuck me raw that night, and I fucking loved every second of it. Even taunted him to make him fuck me harder than even he thought he could. That selfish arrogant unstable fucknut deserves to lose every last fucking thing he has...but shit, his dick is magnificent. The one good gene he gave me." He pounded in and out of Sven a few times. "What he probably didn't tell you is how I fucked him back even harder when I took his ass. Then again -- I don't need to describe it. I can simply show you..."

From outside the apartment, the only sound was the repetitive thud, thud of something massive slamming endlessly against a wall.