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Remy had to wake up at four in the morning for his new job. He wasn't an early morning kobold, but he couldn't pass up the opportunity to work alongside a local baker he admired. Ruben ran a popular bakery in town, which featured a variety of sandwiches, soups, salads, pastries, cakes and pies. For years, Remy was a customer who patronized Le Doux Jardin, Ruben's bakery. A chef and aspiring baker, Remy immediately pounced on the job listing Ruben posted online for an assistant. For most of his adult life, sought a mentor to help him advance his craft, not a textbook. He preferred learn by doing with others who were demonstrably more knowledgeable than him.

He pulled up in his car behind the bakery. The back door was open. Remy quickly put on his work apron and walked inside. Instead of being greeted as soon as he walked into the kitchen, Ruben immediately started ordering him around to help with prep. Remy knew Ruben as the public-facing, affable house who greeted customers from the kitchen as he prepared his delicious meals for customers. This was a different side to Ruben that Remy didn't expect to see. He was taken aback slightly, but since he worked in professional kitchens before and understood the rigors of the job, Remy quickly made the adjustment and started working on day one.

Ruben had Remy work the mixer and make pastry dough while he baked cookies. Remy slipped on his eyeglasses and retrieved all the necessary ingredients he could find in the pantry. Ruben occasionally supervised Remy and eyed his work. The kobold was understandably nervous as he was training on the job. Ruben understood that, but he didn't want Remy to be overly dependent on him during busy hours. He wanted Remy to adapt to independence in the kitchen. While that sounded laudable on paper, there were problems with that approach. Ruben didn't give Remy the recipe for his pasty dough or give him any verbal guidance. When Remy hesitated on the next steps to take, Ruben quickly stepped in and took over prep duty while Remy looked on.

What an asshole, Remy thought.

Within a week, Remy started to regret having the job as Ruben's assistant. He was only twenty-one, but felt like he was aging rapidly in Ruben's kitchen. He eventually caught onto Ruben's operation, learned the recipes, and had a fundamental understanding of what was required of him. But something peculiar happened. During his trials and tribulations, Remy exasperatedly improvised with some of Ruben's recipes. He concocted his own sourdough starter, which emitted a surprisingly fruity aroma, and the starter expanded faster than Ruben's starter. Ruben noticed, but didn't say anything. He allowed Remy to incorporate the starter into the bakery's sourdough goods.

The sourdough bread and rolls turned out to be a hit at the bakery. Remy watched from the kitchen and Ruben sold roll after roll, loaf after loaf. Then at some point, from behind the counter, Ruben turned around and pointed to Remy in the kitchen. "You can thank Remy back there for adding his unique touch to the bread recipe," he said to a customer.

Remy smiled while he cleaned some pots and pans over the sink.

Maybe there is a method to his madness.

Ruben's expression slowly changed from cold agitation to reluctant optimism around Remy. And after one particularly grueling day at work, Ruben tapped on the refrigerator beside a preoccupied Remy with a smirk on his face. Remy, who was busy restocking the pantry, was jolted from the tapping. His tail whipped up. "Oh... hey. What's up?" Remy asked.

"If I give you twenty bucks, can you grab about five gallons of reduced fat milk from the liquor store across the street?" Ruben said.

"Yeah, sure. No problem."

Remy looked forward to a short break from the kitchen. He wanted to catch some air for a few minutes anyway, maybe take a drag of a cigarette, and pace himself a bit before returning. Though he was rapidly approaching the end of his busy work shift, Remy's mind couldn't stop spinning in place. Because the morning cashier called in sick at the last minute, he had to perform cashier duty in between preparing meals in the kitchen with Ruben by his side. They didn't make much small talk in the back as Ruben was busy putting the kobold through his paces. Remy couldn't shake the feeling of being carefully watched every second of every minute in every hour. He lost track of the day and couldn't stop thinking about how he'd retool his approach to certain kitchen tasks.

He returned to the bakery with a large carton of milk. By the time he returned to the kitchen, the restaurant had closed and it appeared Ruben started cleaning up. As Remy set the carton down on the counter -- which was difficult because he could barely see over the top due to his height -- he heard some movement nearby. The bakery had two single bathrooms for men and women. In the men's room, there was some sort of commotion. Remy approached the bathroom door and noticed it was open ajar. He peered inside and nearly choked on his own saliva.

Ruben stood before the urinal and masturbated. The sight caused Ruby to gasp and wonder if he was dreaming. He was barely able to stifle a cough once he mentally double checked that what he was seeing was actually real. Ruben was still in his work clothes, but he tossed his food service gloves into a trashcan and wrapped his right hand around his glorious horse cock. Ruben was in his late forties and was in remarkable shape. He had nicely kept brown fur covering his firm, broad shoulders. His black mane moved slightly with every rapid stroke. Ruby could feel his face turn flush. He was mesmerized. The moment was extravagantly seared into his memory. For the first time, Remy imagined Ruben in a more intimate context, railing into him with desperate ferocity -- like a stallion with a need to breed. He wondered what it would feel like to take in Ruben's cock. Could the kobold handle it? Maybe, he thought.

Could he handle the sharp pain and find pleasure after entry? I want to find out.

Remy's arousal was exponentially increasing. He was hard. He felt unnecessarily hot underneath his work uniform. He resisted the desire to shed his clothes and scratch the same itch that Ruben was furiously tending to. The kobold's hands were shaky. He wanted to breathe, but Remy was concerned that any sound would startle Ruben's commitment to satisfying his carnal desires. Remy instinctively knew Ruben reached climax when his breathing became labored, his stance shifted to a more frozen state, and he started panting. Once the horse's tail went for a satisfied swish, Remy knew he finished. Ruben's masturbatory session lasted for about five minutes, but Remy felt like it lasted a lot longer. He never felt more sexually charged around someone before.

Remy sneaked back into the kitchen to start his closing duties. When Ruben returned to the scene, he appeared unfazed by everything that transpired with him only minutes before. He was calm and was focused on completing his tasks. Remy tried to collect himself, but couldn't stop wondering how he would feel if Ruben decided to one day push him up against the wall, kiss him passionately, and give Remy a piece of his warm, wet tongue. The intrusive thoughts were distracting, but served a purpose as they distracted Remy from the exhaustion he felt after a long shift.

Remy managed to recompose himself on the drive back to his apartment. With a gentle breeze blowing against his scaly cheeks, Remy walked to the front door of his apartment and unlocked. Once he slithered in his bedroom, Remy collapsed onto the bed and dozed for an hour.

And after he woke, Remy slipped into the shower. He brought with him a dildo, which he sometimes used for pleasure and practice. With warm water caressing his back, Remy pressed his cheek against the tiled wall as he slowly pushed the thick, fleshy toy into him. It proved difficult. He hadn't stretched lately since he hadn't seen anyone in a while. The inside of his tailhole tightened up and hugged the dildo upon contact. Then he kept steadily pushing. Remy grimaced with pain and readjusted his stance for an easier fit. Remy's persistence eventually paid off. He started feeling wave after wave of pleasure once the shock dissipated. Once his prostate was activated, Remy reached down to his small but firm rod and stroked himself. He imagined the soothing sensation of Ruben's breath against his neck as he rode him from behind.

Remy fantasized Ruben saying to him, "How do you like it, you little kobold slut?"

Remy's feet dug into the shower's tiled floor once he succeeded to put the dildo's entire length inside him. He flashed a toothy grin at the thought of Ruben's domineering presence. But once he could feel the depth of his penetration, Remy's expression turned into one of submissive longing. He closed his eyes and moaned. His tail twitched upright. There was something deeply liberating about lusting for his demanding boss. He was fantasizing about someone who was not only real, but someone who worked in close quarters with him. At any given time, the tension between them could evolve into something more exciting.

When he eventually came, Remy decorated the wall in front of him with seed. Combining the thrill of evoking his fantasies to watching Ruben intensely pleasuring himself alone in the bathroom to simply being pent-up for far too long, Remy's orgasm was plentiful and seemingly endless. Yet in his post-climax state, Remy realized that any intimacy with his boss was unobtainable. He wasn't even sure if Ruben was gay. By the time he was done showering, Remy was relaxed enough to tolerate his realistic circumstances.

I don't think anything will happen between us, he thought. But at least I can watch him blow off some steam.

The next morning, Remy and Ruben worked quietly together. Remy hung around the oven during prep for some warmth. It was cold inside. Ruben crouched beside Remy to check the oven temperature and look inside to make sure everything on the baking tray was evenly cooked on all sides. He noticed how large the horse was. He gazed at Ruben's thick hands and calloused fingertips. One of his mere fingers could easily slip into Remy's maw and keep him quiet while he was -- wait, nevermind.

I can't think like that during work.

But it was too late. Remy was hard. He stiffened up quick. He tried to remain stoic and professional, but Remy couldn't avoid sweating around his scaly neck.

"A well-known food blogger is coming in to review us today," Ruben said.

"Is that right?"

"Yep. No pressure."

Yeah. Sure. No pressure.

The erection mercifully disappeared, despite the fact that Remy was mere inches away from Ruben's crotch. The outline of his cock and balls underneath his pants left little to the imagination. There was a fleeting desire by Remy to work his tongue up the horse's thigh and ultimately obtain his forbidden fruit.

The blogger arrived shortly before lunch rush. The sharply dressed fox in a taupe-colored suit walked inside, ordered a double shot cappuccino from the counter, brought his cup to an available table, and quietly sipped as he read the menu. Remy and Ruben looked out to the dining area and spotted the blogger. Then they looked at each other. When he decided on what he wanted to order, the blogger quickly approached the counter and made eye contact with Ruben. Ruben cleared his throat and walked out of the kitchen to greet the blogger. The blogger introduced himself as Stephen McCormick. Stephen developed a reputation as a wise-cracking food snob with a reputable palate and two decades of awards and accolades under his belt.

No pressure, indeed.

When he returned to the kitchen, Ruben said to Remy, "Stephen is asking for a large order. Strawberry and avocado salad. Toasted walnuts, goat cheese feta with lemon zest and balsamic reduction. I'll make that. You make the Salmon en Papillote. The papillote is parchment paper. Slice up some zucchini with fennel, dill, lemon and olive oil. Throw in a side of Tarte à la Moutarde, with tomatoes and gruyère. He didn't ask for it, but do it."

"You never taught me how to make Salmon en Papillote," Remy said coldly.

Ruben shrugged exasperatedly. "Just do it. It's easy. Figure it out."

"Okay."

"And he wants a slice of French Pear Clafoutis. We usually make those on special order, but he wants a slice. I couldn't say no. I'll handle that. And you'll do the Olallieberry danish with cream cheese, lemon zest and dusted with powdered sugar."

"Got it!"

Ruben clapped his hands. "And go!"

The two worked hard in the kitchen. The vibe went from fast casual to aggressively precise and meticulous. The kitchen, which was rather spacious, felt increasingly confined for Remy, who started to feel overwhelmed. He worked best with at least some training and shadowing, but he couldn't afford to do either on a time crunch. Stephen was looking for the prime Le Doux Jardin experience. Remy did the best he could with knowledge and time constraints. But once the dishes left the kitchen, Remy was suddenly hit with a hearty dose of imposter syndrome. He didn't feel like he truly belonged in Ruben's kitchen.

They waited with baited breath as Stephen dined on his elaborate meal. Stephen ate with a blank expression and made no comment while he ate. Remy's heart was pounding. He looked up at Ruben, who stood quietly in the kitchen, virtually frozen to the touch. The typically stoical horse was nervous too. Remy took comfort in the perfectionist baker having enough humility to be nervous -- like he knew he wasn't perfect, at least. The two remained in stasis for about a half-hour until they saw Stephen pile his empty plates for the server to remove from his table. Stephen whispered something to the server. The server went back into the kitchen and called Ruben out. Ruben, who was fidgeting anxiously with his apron and the knot he tied to keep it firmly in place, stepped out and wandered into the dining area. Remy looked on.

Stephen set his napkin down and folded his paws on the table. "Normally, I save my comments for the article. But I need some clarification."

"Sure, of course."

"What dishes did you prepare? And what dishes did the kobold make?"

Ruben smiled nervously and answered truthfully.

"Can you bring him out here?"

Ruben waved Remy out to the dining area. Remy quickly walked out of the kitchen and joined Ruben and Stephen.

"Nice to meet you, Remy," Stephen said. He offered his paw to shake.

"Likewise," Remy said, graciously accepting Stephen's paw.

"Gentlemen, let me cut to the chase. This is a tale of two restaurants -- or to be specific, two visions. Half of the dishes I tried were your standard French bakery fare that you'd find in a nice cafe in Paris. Truly exceptional. And the other half?"

Remy lifted his snout in anticipation.

"There was this exquisite French and Italian fusion fare with this wonderful aromatic flare. The buttery goodness of French baking took a backseat to the richness and acidity of Italian cuisine. Remy, your dishes were a bit experimental. You took some bold risks, but the flavors you presented to me were outstanding."

Ruben glared at Remy. Remy was busy sighing in relief.

"Are these your recipes?" Stephen asked Ruben.

Ruben hesitated to answer.

"Well, the reason I ask is that you have two eclectic kinds of cuisine that sharply contrast with each other: one is traditional and paint-by-numbers. The other is experimental, but festive and spontaneous. While both kinds are satisfying to the palate, there is a tonal inconsistency. Both of you are going to have to choose which one works best for your bakery."

The reaction to Stephen's spot review was mixed. While Remy was full of gratitude for being praised, Ruben was conflicted. The assistant he hired was now improvising with his recipes. However, the fact remained that Remy was never fully or properly trained to bake by the book. Deep down, Ruben knew he erred in not carving enough time to train his assistant. But his ego and pride made it impossible for him to verbally admit he made a misstep.

After Stephen left, Ruben called Remy into the kitchen for a "small chat."

"Do you think you may have overstepped a little?" Ruben asked Remy. He stood with his arms folded, looking down at Remy.

"What do you mean?"

"You went and did your own thing."

"We got a good review, didn't we?"

"Yes, but now he's going to write a review that will confuse customers and subvert their expectations. When customers come in and expect your fusion style and I give them what I've always given them, or if they come in expecting the usual and you make something that's different, it's going to be a problem."

"Look, I don't think it's such a big deal --"

"It is to me," Ruben snapped. "This is my restaurant."

"Let me finish. I'm sure we can meet each other halfway here and find a way to combine our efforts."

"That's too complicated," Ruben snorted.

"It wouldn't be complicated if you sat down with me and went over your process instead of just throwing me onto the coals and expect me to walk across without a hitch."

"Untie your apron. Right now. Hand it to me."

"Why?"

"Because you're done here. I'll mail you your last paycheck."

Remy was stunned. His right eye twitched a bit from the shock. He was fired. For what? For pulling himself from his bootstraps in the kitchen, dealing with an uncommunicative pastry snob who didn't trust the new guy with his recipes, yet somehow managing to impress a notoriously picky food blogger? Remy started to grumble but he tried to remain professional. Any utterances of frustration or profanity could be made elsewhere. He was frustrated that the baker and chef he looked up to was nothing more than a vain narcissist with a spatula and a temper. And as hard as he tried to keep his frustrations in check, Remy struggled to keep them from bubbling to the surface. After he took a moment to process everything, Remy's mind went blank. Then he saw red.

"I thought you were someone," Remy said as he removed his apron. "But you're just a loner who jerks off alone in the bathroom."

Ruben paused. The kobold went there. Direct hit to the solar plexus. Ruben took the psychic wound and absorbed as much as he could. After being briefly taken aback by Remy's remark, he asked in an uncharacteristically soft tone, "So you liked the show?"

Instead of answering in the affirmative, Remy walked past Ruben and left out the back door. Nothing more needed to be said.

---

The review appeared online a week later. Stephen lavished Le Doux Jardin with praise, but there was a caveat. "Be prepared to try two different sets of flavors," he warned his readers. "Both are impressive, but you may not always experience the same tastes with the same dish. They have consistency issues to work out. But once they do, _Le Doux Jardin _will be unstoppable." Despite that warning, customers began pouring in. And Ruben's impulsiveness led him to fire the one kobold who could help manage his increased workload. On top of that, he was now faced with the awkward burden of having to answer customers who asked him, "Where's Remy?"

Ruben didn't have an answer. Instead of fully confronting the mistakes he made, Ruben buried himself in work. With Stephen's review being widely shared on social media among the locals, Ruben had his hands full. _Le Doux Jardin _served only breakfast and lunch. He only had two other employees: an overworked and underpaid server and cashier. Ruben had to begrudgingly admit that Remy's presence in the kitchen helped streamline the bakery's workflow. But now that he was gone and customer demand was steadily increasing, he had to hire more people.

Fortunately, Ruben had one day of rest. The bakery closed on Mondays.

Three days passed since he fired Remy. Ruben was at home, eating delivered pizza while watching TV in his living room. He didn't like cooking for himself. Did enough cooking at the restaurant. Why bother? But it was rare for the horse of refined taste to dine on something as crass as fast casual pizza. Fact of the matter was that he was depressed, overworked and overstimulated. All he wanted to do was shut down and retreat into the darkness of his home for a day. Maybe two days. He considered closing the shop for an additional day, forfeiting profits he could make. The employees deserved an extra day of rest. He was capable of thinking about others when he had the time to think.

After discarding the empty pizza box in his recycle bin in the kitchen, Ruben wandered over to the fridge. With the exception of some milk and eggs that were way past their sell-by date, the fridge was bare. He sighed, closed the door, and decided to do some grocery shopping. This was an errand he procrastinated to do for nearly two weeks since he opted to have his meals at other eateries around the area. He regularly patronized other restaurants to gather intel on his competition while maintaining his public brand of supporting small businesses in the community. Ruben served on the board of the local Chamber of Commerce.

He visited the grocery store and casually went down every aisle to pick up the essentials. Customers recognized him and occasionally made small talk with him. Despite being bubbly around customers at the restaurant, Ruben had a more dour disposition when he was out in the general public. He gave monosyllabic replies and struggled to find anything meaningful to say, especially to people who only wanted to talk about his restaurant. Nobody really cared to ask about him personally. Then again, Ruben never cared to voluntarily disclose anything about himself. Everything about him was private and under lock and key.

Ruben turned the corner with his shopping cart to go down the adjacent aisle when he bumped into a couple: a male snow leopard and a female fennec fox smiling and joking with each other. For them, a mundane chore became an adventure. They had fun banter back and forth. They held paws, showing public and carefree displays of affection. I couldn't possibly do that, Ruben thought. As a gay man, Ruben had a rather nuanced existence. He was open about his sexuality for decades, but he lived and operated in a politically conservative area that didn't have much of a public queer presence. It wasn't that people around town were outlandishly homophobic. It was just that homosexuality was neither present nor discussed. Society had certainly evolved to be more accepting of the LGBTQ+ community. But in the city Ruben lived in, queerness felt like an unwritten exception to the rule of society and an aberration.

The last time he dated anyone was a transgender woman. Sheila was an early investor in his business. Prior to that, the two of them worked side-by-side when they were students in a masterclass taught by world-renowned pasty chef Julian Strong. Julian hailed from the "old country" and taught traditional French cooking and pastry baking. He was a pugnacious, older shark who was particularly obsessed with efficiency under pressure in the kitchen. He had his students prep and cook while on a stopwatch. When students made mistakes, Julian shunned them for the rest of class. Instead of teaching students how to avoid making mistakes, Julian sharply lectured them. In the old country, he said, there were no margins for error. To him, all the best restaurants had a sink-or-swim kitchen dynamic. You either adapt or leave. You learn through adaption and assimilation through observation, not cookbooks or lessons. No distractions.

One day, Sheila wore makeup and let her hair down. The wolfess normally tied her long black hair with a scrunchie and wore barely noticeable makeup. She resented looking masculine. The gender dysphoria was suffocating. The least she could do is loosen the restraints she imposed on herself to ease into her public transition. Every student came to class wearing their standard chef outfit with a buttoned white shirt and dark pants. She ditched the hat to reveal her locks and threw all caution to the wind. Ruben, who was normally supportive of her, was silent as he worked alongside her. When Julian approached the pair as they focused on peeling shrimp and unshucking mussels for bouillabaisse, he eyed Sheila and shook his head.

"When a man in the kitchen puts on lipstick and eyeliner, everyone is going to notice," Julian said with a heavy French accent. "What are you trying to achieve?"

"I'm just being myself, sir," Sheila replied. She gritted her teeth after being misgendered.

"Wash that bullshit off your face and come back."

Sheila turned to Ruben, looking for some backup or emotional support. Anything. Ruben shrugged slightly. He decided on a whim to not get involved. If one chef had an issue with the head chef, it's a dispute. If two chefs had an issue with the head chef, it's a mutiny. Sheila understood the situation was thorny for Ruben, but she still wished he showed at least some iota of compassion in the moment. Ruben chose silence. Frustrated, Sheila stormed out of the kitchen, leaving Ruben to take over her duties. Julian muttered, "Oh well," and walked away nonchalantly. Ruben put his head down and started peeling.

After that incident, Sheila and Ruben's romantic relationship was short-lived. She felt that his love for her did not rise to the level that he would stand in solidarity with her -- even if that meant ditching the masterclass, which was difficult to successfully enroll in. For every student that enrolled, there were at least a hundred prospective students wanting that slot. Sheila ultimately understood the conundrum Ruben faced and decided to remain friends with him.

About two years later, Sheila garnered national fame for winning a prestigious cooking competition sponsored by a nationally recognized food-centric cable network channel. She used the prize money she earned to launch her own restaurant. But when her co-investors backed out of supporting her restaurant at the last minute, Sheila suggested that Ruben start his own bakery, and she would invest in his business for a year. At the time, Ruben operated a fledgling and moderately successful catering business with his nephew. Ruben enthusiastically agreed to the proposition. After a year of operating the bakery, Ruben managed to get revenues in the black for three consecutive months. He decided to pay Sheila back for her investment in the business as an offer of gratitude, but she interpreted the move as a buyout and terminated their partnership agreement. From that point on, Ruben believed he worked best alone.

Ruben was halfway done with his grocery shopping when he stumbled across Remy, who filled his shopping cart to the hilt with various ingredients and spices. The kobold looked content as he pushed his cart through the produce section. He inspected some vegetables for any browning before he bagged them in plastic and tossed them into the cart. Ruben took a few steps closer toward Remy, but stopped. Remy didn't notice he was there at first. For a second, Ruben imagined that Sheila was standing where Remy was. The first person to capture his heart, but certainly not the last that got away.

Ruben loudly cleared his throat. Remy turned around to face the source of the noise. When he saw Ruben, he grimaced.

Ruben nervously and slightly waved. Remy finished adding produce to the cart and started to push it further down the aisle when Ruben said, "Wait!"

Remy stopped. He stood with his arms crossed.

"Looks like you're loading up on supplies," Ruben said.

"Yeah. It's a catering job for a wedding."

Ruben nodded. He stood there silently and awkwardly, not knowing exactly what to say. He apparently waited a little too long as Remy started walking away. Ruben didn't say anything. He was frozen.

Why? Ruben wondered.

Apologies and contrition were foreign qualities to him, but his soul was stinging with regret. And he was aggressively possessive about his bakery business. Despite receiving a great review from Stephen, Ruben felt that he inadvertently ceased full control of the restaurant by leaving Remy to his improvisational devices. He was concerned that he created a monster out of the kobold. Theoretically, Remy could assert a lion share of creative control since Stephen named him as someone who innovated with Ruben's dishes. Instead of reconciling the duality of their seemingly clashing styles, Ruben felt it was necessary to cut ties. But Ruben made a series of miscalculations that led to the gap. Now that customers were looking for Remy's creative spin on his own menu, Ruben was under pressure to either modify his recipes to emulate Remy's unique take or bring him back. Regardless, Ruben knew he had to make amends somehow.

After checking out, Remy walked to the car with his heavy shopping cart in tow. The kobold struggled moderately to push the cart but managed. As soon as he opened his trunk, Remy reached to put one of the bags away when he saw Ruben standing behind him. Ruben took one of the bags and effortlessly loaded it into the truck.

"Are you stalking me now?" a puzzled Remy muttered under his breath.

"No."

Noticing Ruben was helping him, Remy realized he may have been too harsh. "Thank you, though."

"Of course."

It took only a few minutes for the two to put all the groceries away. By himself, Remy anticipated it would've taken twice as long. He was grateful for the assistance, but knew there was some sort of catch. Ruben wasn't known to spontaneously volunteer himself. But Ruben started to walk away as Remy slammed down the trunk lid and spun around. It was entirely possible that Ruben's simple act of kindness was genuine.

"Hey Ruben, you got a minute?" Remy shouted to him.

"Sure." Ruben carefully walked over.

"How's the restaurant?"

"It's doing great, actually. Better than ever. But I miss you." Ruben let a little truth slip out of his muzzle. "The customers, I mean. I meant the customers."

Remy smiled. "Gotcha. Okay."

Ruben turned red from the inadvertent slip of honesty. "Well, since the review came out, people have been asking about you and the dishes you served Stephen. The review generated an influx of customers and extended our lunch rush. I've been working the kitchen, asking myself things like: How did Remy prepare the salmon? I tried to guess, but I never bothered to ask."

"Rubbed it with a spicy pepper olive oil. Quarter teaspoon with a teaspoon of balsamic gaze with lemon juice squeezed on top."

"Oh really?"

"When I'm nervous about a dish, I always add an extra kick. Not too much, though. Just enough to make it stand out a bit. Kobolds like spicy."

Ruben chuckled. "Guess I know your trade secret." He impersonated a villainy laugh.

Remy shrugged. "It's your bakery. Do whatever you want."

"No, it's not. It's ours."

Ruben did something that was courageously bold. He took his hand and softly stroked the side of Remy's face. Remy's orange eyes glowed with excitement. They stood quietly and faced each other behind Remy's car in the grocery store parking lot. For as big of a horse as he was, Ruben had an awfully gentle touch. His hand moved down to Remy's shoulders. Remy's intrigued tail excitedly swished from left to right.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice you staring at my package while we worked? It was like you were fucking me with those big kobold eyes of yours. And the way you got flustered around me. Come on."

"Am I really that transparent?"

"I'm afraid so."

Remy rolled his eyes.

About an hour later, Remy hastily changed his plans for the day. I can wait on preparing the menu for the wedding, Remy said. He generally wasn't one to procrastinate, but Remy was given the opportunity to make his fantasies with Ruben come alive for one night.

Ruben kissed Remy. The horse's tongue could wrap around Remy's small head, so he let Remy do most of the heavy-lifting there. The horse's soothing, warm breath hit his snout with a decent amount of pressure. When Ruben lowered his gaze and revealed his seductive glare, Remy knew he was in trouble and he couldn't wait for the punishment. Before they got undressed and got onto the bed naked, Remy told him that he liked it when Ruben was rough -- just not while they're working. Remy was small. Ruben was large, but the kobold was confident in his durability and flexibility. He challenged the boss to put him in his place. But before he could unleash that side of him, Ruben had to take care of Remy.

All Ruben had to do was lick the kobold's small, hardened cock. The horse was large enough to bathe Remy with his warm, pleasurable down from the shaft to the balls, then the taint, and right toward the tailhole. He only needed a little bit of tongue to get inside Remy. It didn't take a whole lot to make the kobold squirm and moan, but he loved every minute of it. Remy's long, clawed fingers clutched the blanket. He briefly caught a glimpse of Ruben's long, hard horse cock swaying deftly in the breeze, with his brown-grayish balls hanging low and waiting to smother someone's scaly face. And Ruben had this not-too-heavy stable smell that was nicely concentrated around his hairy armpits. Remy could bury his snout right in there and wouldn't complain. If he was forced to, it would be better.

"You're going to be a toy for my cock tonight," Ruben told him. "I knew you were a toy I could play with when I caught you staring at my dick like a bitch in the kitchen."

Ruben understood that Remy's mouth was small. He could only take so much in. The tip, maybe. But he was large. Remy did what he could with Ruben's cock. He savored the uncut skin, the musky stable oils and impressive girth. Ruben's balls were plump, not too hairy but savory. There was plenty in the sac tank for an all-nighter. He managed to push Remy's face into his jewels for a nice up-close-and-personal inspection. There was so much for Remy to explore and adore. Fortunately, he had all the time in the world. Remy was hard -- well, as hard as he could be compared to his horse partner. It took two hands to hold onto Ruben's cock, which was surprisingly heavy. But when he got a decent hold, Remy opened his maw wide and sucked on the tip. Ruben had a generous sampling of precum for Remy to taste; it was translucent, slightly salty and a preview of things to come.

With his large hand, Ruben cupped the top of Remy's head and pressed him further into his cock. "I'm about to feed you seed, boy. Drink it."

Ruben pulled himself out so he didn't force Remy to choke on his cum, but there was a lot of it. When Ruben busted his nut, he doused the kobold with a thick helping of cum. Ruben made a mess, but he was unapologetic. His cum looked good on Remy as it unceremoniously dripped from his scaly face and lips. Remy was virtually covered from head to toe, used and marked like a little kobold bitch. He could only imagine what it would be like to have his tailhole pillaged and filled; that would certainly make him feel like Ruben's scaly fleshlight that could be used anytime and anywhere.

Before Remy could speculate within reason how he would feel once he was penetrated by Ruben, he felt both sides of his waist being gripped. Ruben picked him up with ease and set him directly on top of his dick, which managed to get hard again in seconds flat.

"Oh no," Remy said. He was actually concerned.

"I want to feel that tight kobold pussy of yours," Ruben growled.

Ruben toyed with Remy by whipping his dick playfully against the kobold's cheeks. Ruben wasn't going to give Remy the satisfaction of knowing exactly when he was going in. Remy hoped that his stretching exercises in the shower could prepare him for the moment of impact. It didn't. Ruben jammed his cock inside Remy. Remy's whole body was jolted from the inside out. The pressure from initial penetration was so acute that he involuntarily urinated onto the floor beside Ruben's bed. Remy helplessly watched as he let out a surprisingly large stream.

"Did you like it so much that you pissed yourself?" Ruben asked him.

"Yes, sir," Remy groaned.

Remy could feel everything. He tried bobbing up and down the shaft on his own, but it was almost impossible. The thickness and length made him feel like a frozen popsicle on a stick. It was up to Ruben to manhandle him by holding on, and shifting him up and down like an actual toy or a fuckable plushie. For about a minute, Remy felt a ravaging pain. But then the pain eventually subsided and transitioned to unbridled pleasure and a crippling longing for servitude. Ruben held onto the back sides of both of Remy's legs and asserted more control over the kobold's small body.

"Give me more!" Remy moaned. "More!"

"Watch your mouth, bitch. I didn't tell you to speak. I'm working now. I'm cooking up something good here."

For the next hour, the two switched positions several times. Ruben pounded him from the back. Then he pushed Remy against the wall and fucked him upright. They eventually took a break, which involved Ruben pissing on Remy in the shower. Ruben said it was punishment for Remy having his accident on the floor. Remy could never anticipate how invigorating it would be to be crudely marked by an imperious boss. He was hit squarely in the chest by Ruben's piss, which was a heavy flow. Ruben instructed Remy not to pleasure himself -- that this was for teaching him a lesson.

The fucking continued. Ruben had incredibly stamina, but his arousal was steadily reaching a crescendo. Remy could feel Ruben's cock throbbing inside him, eagerly waiting to be unleashed. Remy faced Ruben while Ruben held him in mid-air. They kissed passionately. Their tongues were intertwined. But that moment of intimacy was short-lived. Ruben's cock flared up and pulsated wildly. It took about three pulsations before he finally climaxed. Remy's tailhole was understandably sore and overwhelmed, but the soothing sensation of Ruben's seed helped partially mask the discomfort. A puddle of their cum, now fused together, appeared on the floor. It was a thrilling and deeply satisfying moment for the two men at radically different heights. Ruben kissed an exhausted and panting Remy one more time before he rocked the kobold from side to side and laid him down on the bed to rest.

Tears welled in Remy's eyes. There was more pleasure than pain. But there was catharsis. This wasn't sex performed by someone looking for a one-off event. This was special. Perhaps this is love, Remy thought. Both men laid their cards and bodies bare, covered in cum, sweat and muscle. Ruben had just the right amount of muscle nested above his middle-aged gut. Remy crawled on top of Ruben and hugged as much of him as he could with relatively limited wingspan.

With all the tension released from his loins, Ruben appeared significantly calmer and more at peace. He had the same calm and cheerful demeanor that Remy recognized from the time he was a customer. And Ruben saw a different, more mischievous and risque side of Remy. They enjoyed the sights of each other during their post-coital bliss. The moment they shared together brought them closer, but there was some unresolved tension outside the bedroom. That could wait.

The next morning, an extremely sore Remy stumbled through Ruben's darkened bedroom at four in the morning to reach the master bathroom and take a shower. Remy didn't bother turning on the light inside. He hopped into the shower, turned on the shower faucet, and let the warm water soothe his aching body. He had to prepare early for the bright and loud world since he was getting ready to return to the bakery. Once he finished showering Remy borrowed one of Ruben's large towels and attempted to dry himself, but it was a hilariously clumsy ordeal. Now somewhat dry, Remy returned to the bedroom to retrieve his clothes, which were unceremoniously strewn across the floor. By that time, Ruben woke up and dragged his feet into the bathroom for his shower. They passed each other by and exchanged "good mornings." They later got dressed together and exited the house shortly before sunrise.

They returned to work. In addition to the early morning prep and cleaning, Ruben carved out about thirty minutes of time to go over Remy's tweaks to his dishes. After hotly debating the new recipes, Ruben folded and rolled out compromises. He wrote everything down in his recipe notebook and started baking. Before he fired up the stove and lit the pilot light, Ruben kissed Remy. It was a tender, sweet kiss that spoke louder than words. I love you. The stress baked into working in the kitchen abruptly stopped. Now work was fun. Tense but rewarding. Remy was left with an anticipatory erection, which he could conceal in the kitchen. He looked forward to "accidentally" bumping into Ruben and his frighteningly impressive hard-on. And Ruben did not disappoint.

After the morning rush, Remy decided to take a smoke break. He walked out to the back and was about to reach for a pack of cigarettes in his pocket when his phone rang. He answered. He winced once he realized who called him. It was the wedding catering client. She was likely calling to confirm their menu tasting appointment for later that afternoon. Unfortunately, the appointment was made while he was temporarily unemployed, not knowing when he'd find another full-time job.

"Oh, hi Sheila!" Remy answered.

The back door was open. Ruben, who was well within an earshot of Remy, froze and loudly dropped a mixing bowl.