FSE

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The young stallion surveyed the dusty streetscape, eyeing up the ratty looking collection of buildings framing the stretch of brown dust that presumptuously bore the title of "Main Street." He snorted a little dismissively, as he slapped the dust from his aching behind and stomped his hooves to get some semblance of circulation going.

His horse, a leggy piebald gelding, bobbed his head a little and whinnied, scraping a hoof in the dust in sympathy. The stallion smiled indulgently, scratching his mount behind the ear in lieu of the treat he probably wanted more. The stallion had no carrots to give though, he had run out on the road, and hadn't had a chance to stock up again. Still, as downbeat as the town may look, he could at least get some supplies, and maybe a drink and a rest before resuming his journey.

For Luke, it was all experience, even if it wasn't all exciting. He was still enjoying the unfamiliar sensation of freedom too much, and every day was pregnant with possibility, every encounter filled with discovery.

A naturally shy youth, he had been further isolated by geography and circumstance. His father (bless his conflicted soul) had been a taciturn and volatile presence, dominating the pony's life since his mother had died when he was a foal. After a brief time in school enjoying the wonder of company his own age, Luke had been hauled back to the ranch at 14 to help run their holding, always it seemed on the edge of ruin.

Luke had borne the tough life and the harsh discipline of his father stoically, at least on the outside. Inside though, he had burned for a different life, one full of excitement, where money wasn't perpetually tight, where he could live and experience new things each day. He saw glimpses of it, in the occasional news brought by wanderers in their valley, in the stories of travellers or itinerant ranch hands, and the words on paper that burned their way into his imagination from pamphlets and news sheets and books whenever he could get them without father knowing. He would have this; all of it.

So it had been the logical next step once his father succumbed to his illness for the stallion to sell the ranch, lock stock and barrel, and saddle up for a new life with a stash of dollars in gold and a vague plan of setting up in business in a big city back East. Baltimore, New York, Boston, Philadelphia. The names alone made him excited.

First he had to get there though. And to do that, he had to get through flea-bitten towns like this one, on the edge of the plains.

Pine Ridge Station. Appropriate name for this dustpile, barring the absence of pine, or ridge. Or station...

He realised he had spoken out loud when his horse snorted in apparent agreement. One last ear scritch, and he headed for an open doorway nearby, a livery stable beside a ramshackle wooden building delighting in the name of the "Horton Manor Saloon."

He was not impressed by the affectation, being a stallion used to a harder way of life. For Luke, a manor house carried certain expectations from the pictures he had seen in books. This looked more like a barn, though the builder had carefully added some crenelations and a mock tower or two for good measure. The roof also bore a shield, bearing an eagle and a knight's helmet with five bars on the visor. Tacky...and unconvincing.

Walking through the doorway, he startled a tall fox who was busy feeding hay into the feed bin before an old and tired looking Clydesdale. The horse was slowly munching his way through the feed even as it was added to the bin, and didn't raise his head to look at the newcomer. The fox noticed alright though, his head snapping up and a pair of sparkling blue eyes regarding the stranger with an inscrutable gaze.

"Hallo there my friend. I'm looking for somewhere to stable my horse, maybe get some food and a bed for the night. Might you be able to point me in the right way?" His father had ensured he grew up a polite horse, if nothing else.

The fox blinked a couple of times, looking the newcomer up and down in ways that made Luke strangely concerned, and his tail swished and mane tingled without him really knowing why. The fox looked fairly normal, with rich brown colouring, a black shirt and red pants with black leather boots, and a small locket at his neck the young stallion could not make out in the gloom.

As Luke waited, he realised the fox was looking past him, seeing the flick of a tail from the stallion's own mount away in the street. Without a word, he headed past the confused equine and unhooked his mount from the fence, leading the piebald with an easy gait to a vacant stall beside the Clydesdale. Carefully, the fox measured out some oats for the hungry gelding, who took to the stranger instantly. Lightning always was a sucker for anyone prepared to feed him.

Making sure the horse had water as well, the fox gestured to the stallion to follow, pointing to a door in the side of the barn. Luke followed, still perplexed but impressed at least by the efficiency of the fox attendant, skirting a large low wooden bench in the middle of the barn of uncertain use before bowing his tall head to get under the doorway without scraping his mane on the lintel.

The fox led him down a corridor to a reception desk, where a smiling badger was busy reading a newspaper. The fox walked straight behind the desk and took a key off the hooks behind, nudging the badger with an elbow as he did. The badger dropped his reading glasses down his nose and eyed up the young stallion, his muzzle forming into a slow smile.

"Well, welcome stranger. I take it you have met Gerald, and you need a room for the night?"

Luke managed to stutter out a greeting, and remembered his manners in time, thanking the Badger for his kindness and requesting a simple room and somewhere to wash and some food. The badger nodded profusely, fingers buried in his waistcoat pocket and fingering something in there as he pulled the ledger towards the tired pony.

"Yes yes yes...all good. Well, it looks like Gerald has chosen the room for you, don't worry, we won't charge beyond the minimum. We can provide for all your needs good sir, food and drink, a comfortable bed, and of course a warm bath. Later you may wish to join us in the main room? It gets quite lively of a night and there is plenty to keep you amused, I can assure you good sir, plenty indeed. Now, Gerald will take you up to your room, and we will see you later sir yes?"

Luke nodded, pleased and yet a little troubled at the hospitality, and hefted his pack ready to follow the fox. Gerald, it appeared that was his name at least, turned on his paws and headed for the stairs and it was all the pony could do to keep up, watching the bushy red/brown tail bobbing ahead as the fox mounted the stairs with ease. He was led to the left at the top of the stairs, towards a rough door bearing the number 15.

If he had looked behind the stallion would have noted the smile on the badger turn to a wistful grin as he shook his head and clicked his tongue in wonder. But the pony was too tired, and too focussed on getting to his room for his usual reserve to be in place. Sometimes a lesson learned on the road, or on the plains, gets forgotten in the unfamiliar terrain of a town. Many a cowboy had learned that the hard way.

The fox produced a key, and turned it in the lock with an audible 'click' and with a momentary hesitation, Luke followed.

The room was not what he expected, large and comfortable, with a big four poster bed, a large fireplace, a table with a linen tablecloth, and a decent sized copper bath in one corner. Luke dropped his pack on the floor, blinking in amazement, and tried to remonstrate with the fox.

"I can't afford..."

The fox just smiled, and raised a finger to his lips in gesture of silence, and proceeded to the fireplace to set a roaring fire for his guest. Luke shrugged eventually, and set about relaxing as best he could. In truth it was not something he was accustomed to, though he felt that in surroundings like this, he could rapidly become accustomed.

As he organised his belongings for the night, the stallion kept an eye on the mysterious fox. The mute, for that was his assumption now, worked his magic and soon had a fire going in the hearth, crackling and spitting, casting an orange glow on the room and adding highlights to the colouring of the fox's fur. It also added a golden glint to his bright blue eyes, something that made the pony's tail quiver again, though he could not fathom the reason.

The fox abruptly left, and Luke began to undress, preparing for a short rest before the evening, when the door opened again and he was caught with his pants down, literally. He was about to yell when he saw what the fox was carrying; two large steaming pitchers of hot water.

Gerald smiled at the young horse before leaving, returning once more with two pitchers of cold water. The equine had recovered himself in the meantime, pulling up his pants and waiting. The fox merely stood with a sardonic look on his muzzle, and raised an eyebrow in question.

Luke felt embarrassed, and a little like the young fool his father always called him. Letting out a short whinny, he pulled off his shirt and neck cloth, throwing them on the bed, before pulling his britches and his rough cotton underthings down and off his hooves. He stood, arms folded, staring back at the fox, though his body shuddered a little in spite of the warmth from the fire.

The fox stood and stared, for long seconds as Luke's shivering increased in intensity. He noticed the fox open his muzzle slightly, and expected maybe some sound to issue forth, but instead all that came out was the tip of one pink tongue, which proceeded to lick the fox's lips in a slow sensual movement. The pony nickered, loudly, and the fox gestured at him to get in the bath.

Still embarrassed, Luke climbed into the copper. It was large, but still cramped for a tall equine like himself, and he had to bunch his knees up to his chest and cross his arms under his knees. He looked daggers at the fox, who grinned like a predator as he reached for the pitchers of water, and proceeded to upend one of each into the copper, careful not to burn sensitive stallion parts.

The warm, delicious water had its effect on Luke though, and soon he leant his head back and closed his eyes, letting the warmth ooze through his body taking away the pains of the trail. Especially from his behind...days in the saddle always left him with an aching ass, and he reached back absently to stroke the sore mounds and moaned a little in appreciation.

His eyes shot open then, as an answering moan came from one side, and he saw the fox still there, with his tongue now fully extended, eyes wide open and shining.

"Hey! You don't need to stay. I can wash myself and..."

The fox held up his paws, showing some soap in one and a soft washcloth in the other. He smiled reassuringly and shrugged his shoulders, as if to say, on your mane be it sir. Luke hesitated for a second, but the idea of being tended to did have its appeal, even from another male. And if he was honest with himself, based on some of the thoughts he had late at night stroking his length while trying not to wake his father with his whinnies, the idea of a male wasn't entirely off his reservation.

Returning the shrug, Luke settled into the copper and waited. He didn't have to wait for long, and gentle fox paws soon found his mane, lathering and running claws through the strands to wash his hair, and then they proceeded onto his body.

The shivering was back, but it was not fear. Luke tried hard to relax, and think of anything but the fox, but it was no use. As the paws worked into his coat, soothing flesh and muscle, working ever further down his body...chest, flanks, belly, thighs....he began to nicker uncontrollably, and shake, and suddenly he realised his pony length had taken up the cause and extended into the warm water seeking attention.

Then the fox found it too.

"Arghhhh!"

Water splashed, and a cloud clang sounded through the room as hooves smacked into the side of the copper and the stallion found himself moving from the seated to the upright position without any real intervening state, so violently that he distributed most of the water over the floor.

He stood, shivering now, his unruly length slapping against his belly, muzzle bared in a whinny of anger and eyes blazing.

"Enough! I'll wash myself now, that you sir..."

The fox never stopped smiling, just shrugging his shoulders again and padding his way quietly from the room before shutting the door carefully. Luke stood, shaking mane and tail to try and regain some calm, before returning to his bath. He managed to complete the soaping, and then used the now luke warm water to rinse off, leaving his coat and mane shining and clean, a sensation he hadn't felt for a long time. As he lay in the bath, he thought about the feel of the fox's paw on his stallionhood, and the great organ, reduced to quiescent state against his hip, suddenly filled again, swaying in the air demanding attention.

With a snort, he gripped his length and began the familiar motions he had known since puberty, when his fellow colt Rory had shown him how behind the shed at school. He had been mesmerised then, watching his fellow colt stroke himself into pleasured release, and it only took three strokes of his own overexcited horsehood to achieve a matching spray of equine seed.

Now older, he was somewhat less callow, and it took several minutes and the application of hard fingerhooves to his left nipple to achieve a satisfactory climax, but the wait made the end more than satisfactory, with a large rope of equine cum exiting the bath to splatter on the floorboards behind his head arched back in ecstasy.

Had he been more alert and less into his own pleasuring, he may have noticed the small hole open up near the candlestick to the left of the mantelpiece over the great fireplace. Or the brilliant blue eye savouring his actions, as a fox took his own pleasure from watching, just as the stallion had watching his colt friend years ago. The eyes clouded over just as the stallion leaned back his head, muzzle forming a wide 'o', tongue protruding, and he whispered the words in his mind, letting them fall into the stillness of the room.

"Ohhhh Roryyyyy"

When pony seed hit the floor, a certain fox decorated the wall too, but he kept the hole open long enough to see the self-conscious pony wipe the cum off his chest, and the moment where Luke put a tentative finger into his muzzle and tasted. Then he quickly dropped the cover back in place and set about the next stage of preparations, visions of stud pony reverberating in his mind.

*****

The stallion woke from a blissful slumber to find the door closing and just caught sight of a bushy fox tail retreating as the door clicked. His nostrils flared, and he picked up the scent of food, a rich stew of vegetables and hot fresh bread on a plate sitting on the table across from his bed, and a mystry dish under a ceramic cover. There was also a dusty bottle of wine, without a label, and a single glass. The single glass was a comfort at least, as he didn't relish the fox's company, least of all with the guilt pangs that came to him in the aftermath of a hard shattering cum from self-pleasuring to the memory of his colt friend's body.

He sat at the simple table, sniffing in delight. Carrots...lots of them, and celery, amongst other things. He was a complete sucker for carrots though, beyond all reason, ever since he was a foal. And here he had them in abundance, surfeit even, a huge steaming plate of stew chock full of carrots, with a rich tasty sauce.

He hefted the bottle uncertainly, wiping off the dust and holding it up to the light from the sun setting through the window. He could see a crust on the glass, some form of scum inside the bottle it seemed. He grunted, perversely comforted that the hospitality was not as good as he thought; they were clearly disposing of the old and spoiled wine by the look of it by giving it to the pony. Still, he had only tasted alcohol a couple of times in his life, and he was eager for more experience even if it was bad. It was all experience.

Pouring out a large glass of the deep ruby red liquid, he brought the glass to his muzzle and threw back the contents in one gulp.

He was not prepared for the result; warm, delicious flavours cascaded down his throat and flowed into his stomach, and his head felt like it had been heated from inside by a smith's forge. His ears flicked up and twitched, and his mane shook as he gave voice finally to an explosive whinny of appreciation.

That wasn't half bad.

The pony looked at the bottle in wonderment again, but the missing label meant he was none the wiser. In fact, the exceptional aged Porto had entered its glory years, the fortified depth keeping in balance a harmony of raisin and raspberry, acid and sweetness, and high alcohol content quite beyond the naïve young pony's experience.

He set to devouring the food with relish, topping up his glass until he realised that he had finished the bottle rather ruefully. Still, dessert...and the crowning glory, under a small ceramic bowl, a plate of rich apple cake almost floating in a large pool of some dark liquid. He polished off the dessert in big hungry mouthfuls, ignoring the burning in his muzzle from the liquid, as the burn came with most agreeable sensations and tastes; an amazing explosion of apple that made his mane twitch. When the cake was gone, he looked around guiltily, as his father would have punished him for such inelegance and he still feared the stallion's wrath even now, and gulped the remaining liquid from the bowl. Fine Calvados was not something the pony had ever heard of; but if he had, he would have praised it to God in his prayers every Sunday.

It was therefore one extremely drunk pony who trotted on unsteady hooves down the staircase to check out the action in the main saloon hall. His eyes had the warm glow of the inebriated, and his face was flushed and he wore a slightly stupid grin of exceptional bonhomie and complete charming naiveté as he pushed through the door into the lounge.

The badger was behind the bar, pouring drinks for a few furs who were lounged against its comfortable wooden length. Several other furs were seated at tables, talking, eating, laughing, playing cards. A couple had taken up places on a long leather couch, and were arguing loudly over something. All looked up as the pony came in, regarding the stranger with curious stares, before returning to their business with a shrug.

"Well hello there my lad, and a stranger too. What brings you here my wee pony bairn?"

Luke turned to his left, where one of the locals had detached himself from conversation with the badger behind the bar to stroll over to his side. He was a bear, big and heavy, with salt and pepper through his fur and a strange sort of skirt around his waist. The pony's alcohol fuzzled brain sorted through his memory banks, and he realised it was a kilt, just as the bear gave a chuckle and rubbed him under the chin.

"Aye laddie, a Scotsman far from home. And where is home for you then my new friend?"

Soon the pony was seated at a table with the bear, and having a wonderful evening with his new friend. He learned that the bear, whose name was Duncan, had sailed from Scotland with a companion three years ago, and ended up here by chance, but found he liked it. His companion did too, though he wanted to return to England as soon as he could. Meanwhile though...

"I meet many a good fur here lad, and make many a new friend, and that suits this bear by rights. Per'aps ye should think about staying too lad, for a while at least?"

Luke found himself telling the bear everything, all his hopes and dreams, the chafing under his father, his desire to be free, a stallion with the wind in his mane. The bear nodded, patting one huge paw on the pony's hand as it clasped a whisky, obligingly provided by the bear.

"I know, and all you make sense kind Sir, but I want to get on you see. I want to set up in business, and I know with my brain, I can make it in one of the big cities. You see sir, err Duncan (the last as the bear grumbled deep in his chest at the formality), I have a great talent for figures. I learned that at school, and I wanted to go away to college but father would not have it. But I know I can make it, and I know if I can put my money to good use, I can build a good business. I want to outfit and supply people coming out here, see. They have no idea how to do it, but they come to set up homesteads or make a fortune mining, and they fail. I can set them going right, and make good money on it, and set up supply stations along the rail lines for them to make a killing. I've done the sums, and it all works. I just need as much capital as I can get."

The bear nodded, stroking the pony's forearm now, which the inebriated stallion didn't notice except a warm feeling from the touch on his feathering. The bear was speaking again though, in an earnest voice, cajoling and prodding.

"...best way to get some more capital fast laddie, if you are game."

"What?"

"The tables, here. If you wait another few minutes, the table will open, as it does every night. Blackjack, simple and elegant. Might be a way to put those plans of yours on the fast train to success hey my lad?"

The stallion snorted and finished his drink, though the idea had lodged in his mind. His father played cards with him, to while away the long nights on their ranch, and had taught him many including blackjack. He had proven his numerical skills by beating his father pointless on many occasions, once drawing a belting from the angry stallion for supposedly "cheating", because the stallion could not find any other reasons for the colt's prowess. His father ignored his protests as the belt tanned his hide, but in truth the colt was right, he hadn't cheated; well, counting the cards wasn't cheating, was it?

Now greed, and pride, and alcohol transpired to make the young stallion think again, and wonder.

"What stakes are allowed?"

The bear grinned wide. "Well, a hand is usually ten dollars in gold, minimum...but you can get approval to go higher. If you like taking a risk."

The stallion snorted again, pulling a fresh glass of whisky to his muzzle. He loved risk; well, the idea of it. He hadn't experienced it enough, now was his time. He would show them...

"Fellow furs, the table is now open if any of you gentlefurs would care to partake. Monsieurs, le jeux sont faits."

The French drew it's customary chuckle from the assembled company. It had started as a joke one a few months ago when a passing French ram had drunkenly insisted on them using the traditional French calls as he tested his skill and his wallet. They had kept it up in his memory; it had been an interesting evening for all concerned, not least of all the ram.

The pony knew no French, so he missed the significance; and the hint of an outcome already known, the chips already down. He felt special, in a way he never did with his father, and he felt alive. It was to prove his undoing.

Luke turned his gaze to the green baize table in a corner of the room. A couple of his fellow guests had headed there, waiting for what he didn't know. Then a door behind the table opened, and the fox emerged, smiling, now wearing a dark satin apron, and carrying several decks of cards.

The fox winked at him, then carefully peeled off the packaging from the cards, and proceeded to shuffle expertly all six decks before slotting the cards into a shiny brass shoe. The whole thing fascinated the pony, who watched with eager eyes, and a burn in his muzzle from the many unfamiliar drinks. He felt immortal, invincible, and certainly up to the challenge of this 'Horton Manor" in all its shabby finery. He would show his father, once and for all. He took up a seat at the table, with a big bull and a young looking ram to his left, both of whom touched their hats at him in greeting before turning their attention to the fox.

The bear took up a seat beside him.

"Thought you might like some moral support young lad, though I'm not going to partake myself, if you understand. You know how tight us Scots are with our money!"

That drew a chuckle from the others, and a whinny from the pony.

The fox stared at him, as if waiting.

"What does he need?"

"Well lad, he needs to know how many chips to give you. How much money did you say you had again?"

The pony blushed then, wanting to impress the company and secretly embarrassed by how little his inheritance had amounted to.

"Err...two thousand, in gold."

There were appreciative nods from his companions then, and a low whistle from the bear.

"Well, how much do you want to risk? Half, shall we say?"

"Err....all right...err..."

The fox carefully counted out the chips, piling stacks of red and gold discs in front of the pony.

"I know you are good for it lad, fine upstanding pony like yourself. Still, you don't want to be lying to the bank here..might end badly..."

"N...no...really...I'm good..."

The bear's teeth gleamed in a smile, and he reached for a cigar, from a pocket somewhere under his kilt, and lit up a thick stogie, puffing into the air above the table.

'Well, good then. Good luck my lad, not that you will need it."

Then the pony concentrated his best on winning, and tried to ignore the growing hammering in his head.

The evening wore on, and he found himself sitting before a stash of two thousand. He couldn't believe his luck, he had more than doubled his meagre fortune in one night already. The ram and the bull had stopped playing, just watching him, and the bear slapped his back and shouted encouragement as the cards fell his way, and the feeling of immortality grew.

The next hand came, and he saw a king facing up, the dealer fox left with a paltry six.

"Go on lad...go for it."

The bear's voice with its sweet brogue had insinuated into his mind, and the pony found himself obeying without really thinking. He kept back some, five hundred in his stash, but fifteen hundred on the table.

"Good lad!"

Another swat from the bear.

He checked his remaining card. Another king.

A great yell went up from the ram and the bull, and a roar from the bear, who rubbed his mane affectionately and whispered in his ear.

"Go on lad, split them. You can clean up in one hand!"

Once again he found his head nodding at the fox, and his hands moving without conscious thought. The kings parted, placed in a neat box formation, six inches apart. A further thousand in chips were counted out, and placed next to the second king, with the pony's remaining five hundred next to it. He realised with horror and excitement that he was committed.

The fox dealt again, and he greedily turned the cards, fearful and wanting in one.

A jack and a ten.

"Two twenties, by god. It's a pity you have no more money lad, or you could make a killing. You could ask for a loan, it's like taking money from a baby."

"N...no....I don't believe in debt Sir...my father always said..."

"The same Father who used to keep you under his hoof?"

The pony's face burned at that reminder, but he shook his head in negation and returned to the table. One day though...one day he would find his own trail, completely free of his father...maybe sooner than he dreamed.

"Suit yourself lad. Well, time for the inevitable."

The fox turned his card, a queen, to make a quite useless 16. More roars of encouragement, and the bear gripped the pony around the neck and hugged. All the commotion distracted Luke, as did his own excitement, but he was unlikely to have seen anyway, the distraction just made it certain, as the fox dealt himself a card from under the table with an expert flick of the paw.

A five of clubs.

Silence fell, for a long time, the only sound being the fall of ash from the bear's cigar onto the green baize covering. Luke stared, not quite taking it in, as the fox reached out a paw to haul in all the precious chips in front of his cards and drop them into the drawer behind him.

A chair clattered to the ground, and Luke found himself standing, his muzzle open in a silent cry as the enormity hit home.

He felt a metal object prodding the small of his back.

"Not thinking of leaving are you pony?"

He realised to his horror, that the gun belonged to the bear, his erstwhile friend, who now had the muzzle of a colt 45 pressed into his spine.

"What...what...what..."

"Yes laddie, looks like your luck has run out. Thomas, go to his room and check his bag. Time for payment, I think."

"You!"

"Aye, me. Let me introduce myself lad, Duncan Munroe, manager of the Horton Manor Saloon. I'm sorry for your bad luck my lad, but that is cards for you. Sometimes the luck doesn't go with you, sometimes it does."

"Let me go! You cheated..."

A big bear paw suddenly slammed into taut pony ass, and Luke cried out in pain as the big Scottish bruin gave him a skelping spank to remember.

"None of that lad, and I forgive you this once. Only this once. Now, I think it's time for Thomas to go search your room and take the payment. Not that we don't trust you, mind, just to be careful."

The badger headed out from behind the bar, striding towards the stairs leading up to the rooms. Luke began to sweat, hard, as furs closed on him from all sides. The sheriff, a big Alsatian, who had been lounging on a couch next to his deputy, sauntered over and pulled his own revolver, using it to play with Luke's long tail, running the cold steel of the barrel through the soft strands of pony tail.

"Nothing stupid pony. Relax..."

The door opened, and a frowning badger came in, holding a leather bag.

"Well?" growled the bear.

"About seven hundred Duncan, no more."

The bear suddenly reached for Luke's mane, twisting it roughly and pulling the tall equine's head down painfully. The stallion squealed out a terrified whinny, as he found himself muzzle to muzzle with the bear, whose deep brown eyes had suddenly gone black.

"Very silly pony."

The sheriff shook his head mournfully, pressing the barrel of his revolver into Luke's ass, drawing an even more pained squeal.

"Stupid colt, now you've done it. You realise what you have done is fraud, theft, all sorts of crimes."

"What will he get Hank?" breathed the bear with menace.

"That's a hanging, that is, pure an simple."

"Nononononononononoooooooooooooooooooooooo!"

All Luke could do was shake and scream now, aware of the full magnitude of his fate. One glimmer of light came to him though, and he gripped it like a drowning pony

"L....loan. You mentioned a loan. Please, I'll do anything..."

The bear shook his head, though he grinned inside. It was all going very very well....

"Hmmm, not sure you are much of a risk lad. Not quite as smart as you thought, my pretty pony. Or as worldly wise...still, mebbe. Mebbe. Still...we would need to make sure you paid us back, and I only know one way to do that."

"Anything, please!"

"You will have to work here, doing what I tell you, until the debt is paid."

"W...work? Doing what...?"

"Hmmm....well, I did have an idea. See, the lads here like pony rides, little pony. And you might just be what we need...our old Clydesdale is getting on, and the lads do miss it."

"Pony rides?"

"Yes, we will attach you to a special rig, and you give a pony ride. Simple really, and I charge the lads for a ride, nice and easy. You get to keep a portion of the proceeds to work off your debt, minus expenses and interest of course, and my lads here are kept happy. How's that sound to ye lad? Or would you rather the hangman..."

He pulled the stallion's mane down lower again, letting his muzzle sniff the pony's neck and lick, while the terrified stallion fought back tears. This could not be happening...

"Be a shame to have to stretch this pretty neck, wouldn't it Hank..."

"Never like it Duncan, specially for a young'un like this, but the law is the law..."

"Stop! Please! I'll agree, anything...just..oh God...."

The bear grinned now, patting the pony on the shoulder as he shook like a leaf.

"Excellent. I might just happen to have some paperwork here handy..."

The badger produced several pages of closely written script from behind the bar, and handed it to the bear. Duncan perused it casually, before filling in some blanks and handing the sheets to Luke with a pen.

"Sign"

The shaking pony tried to read, but his head hurt terribly, and he was shaking too much to hold the pages steady.

"I said sign, or the offer of a loan is withdrawn..."

He signed, rapidly, with a terrified whinny for good measure, wondering at the humiliation of being tied to some pony cart to provide rides for the furs of this fleabite of a town. He steeled himself to endure, and to survive, and get out and away and start again. And to never drink or gamble in his life again.

Duncan looked over the contract, smiling indulgently, before returning the pages to the badger for safe keeping. He ran a fatherly paw through the pony's mane, ruffling the long silken hairs. This one was so beautiful...perfect bay points, deep chestnut coat, and deliciously soft black feathering. There was no way his master would ever be letting him go; of course, the pony didn't know that. Yet.

"Good lad, good. Time to get you fitted out for your rides."

"Isn't it...late..."

"Pony rides are best at night my lad...as you will see."

Strong hands gripped him then, and Luke found himself bundled into the barn, where he had first encountered the fox that morning. The bear had him, with the ram and the bull for company, while the fox merely stood to one side, lighting all the lamps to illuminate the barn before turning to watch with those blue eyes sparkling.

"Now...over this my lad."

Luke felt himself hauled over to the large bench in the middle of the barn he had seen when he arrived. New details registered now though, ones he wished he had taken in before. Like the leather manacles on each leg of the bench...perfect for restraining a reluctant pony.

He shook his head but somehow his body didn't resist, and the young stallion found himself pressed up against the end of the bench, with the bear holding his hands twisted up behind his back painfully, as the bull bent to spread his hooves and tie his fetlocks to heavy leather shackles on each leg of the bench.

Then the ram had his turn, taking the pony's well twisted wrists in his hands to pull Luke over the length of the bench until his head rested over the far end, pointing to the floor, and his hands were fastened to similar shackles on the far legs. He was helpless, and increasingly terrified. A terror that only grew, when he felt a questing bear paw teasing his groin, groping his pony assets through his britches before finding his belt and unfastening the clasp. Luke begged, but the bear only grunted in amusement, and chuckles all round greeted his attempt to break free of the manacles.

Then the bear slowly popped the buttons on Luke's trousers and lowered them past a delightful mound of pony rump to bunch about the young stallion's knees in an untidy heap.

They all gathered behind the shaking stallion then, sharing their views on his ass. It was generally agreed this was the finest pony ass any had seen, and way beyond the joyful view provided by their last victim, the French ram who had only recently been allowed to leave, his tailhole never to be the same.

But nothing could match pony for a good hard ride. They hadn't had one for at least a year; way too long.

Luke tried to protect himself, flattening his tail in his crevice and whimpering, but the bear wasn't having any of it. He wrapped the long black tail in his paw and yanked up hard, exposing the full delight of Luke's pony crevice to the assembled appreciative crowd, a crowd that was swelling as other furs joined the fun. The numbers weren't the only thing swelling as they admired their new pony; many a crotch bulged obscenely at the sight.

"Now my lad, before you ride a pony, you need to break him. So first we need to break you to the bit. Bring me the bridle Gerald."

The fox headed for the tack room, returning with a beautiful bridle glistening in the night, all black leather and shiny silver. A snaffle bit, perfect for a young pony, and Luke quailed as the bruin slowly lowered it over his head and pulled tight, trapping the pony's head in the infernal contraption. He ran his paws over Luke's shoulders and neck, making soothing noises to calm the lad, then pulled the reins tight, forcing Luke's head back hard, arching his back and neck as he reared off the bench as much as possible. The bear loosened his grip, and Luke relaxed; the point had been made.

"Now we will see how obedient you are pony. Drop for me..."

Luke gave a startled jerk. He couldn't mean...

"I said drop!"

"D...drop? Not my...my..."

"Yes lad, I mean your delicious pony cock. The one you were yanking like a stallion kept from the mares all spring, in the bath back in your room, spreading your pony seed all over my precious floorboards thinking about some stud called Rory. Drop your cock, lad."

"No!"

The terrified stallion whinnied, mortified that someone had seen his performance. The fox...that fox, it had to be. But how had he told the bear...

"Arghhhh!"

The bear pulled roughly on the reins again, and he felt his neck pulled, body straining to accommodate the forces. It hurt...his pride as much as his body, though it was a close thing.

"I see you aren't broken yet lad, but do not fear. I will make sure you are, before you get ridden. Now, do you know what this is?"

Luke turned to look, and saw the bear holding a heavy riding whip, as he had seen used by carriage drivers. A short length of leather, cruelly split into two, attached to a wicker handle. Perfect for getting the attention of an unruly pony...

"It seems your father didn't teach you enough manners after all my lad, or you would know when to obey. Time for a lesson, methinks."

The bear kept the pressure on the reins, pulling the stallion's back into a graceful arch, as he lined the whip up with a flexing pony ass and let fly with all his might.

"Ahhhhh!"

Luke felt like a whole hive of bees had been unleashed on his ass, and the demon bear pulled his reins harder, forcing the pony to turn and watch his own punishment as Duncan unleashed a torrent of strikes on his muscled rump all the while ignoring the pitiful pleas of the pony. Breaking a pony is never easy...but it must be done.

Eventually Duncan ran out of breath, and the pony stopped struggling and lay flat, moaning as the bear panted with exertion. He reached out the whip teasingly, running the leather tips over Luke's prominent extended donut, rubbing the pony's anal lips and drawing sobs from the stallion when he flicked the ends hard against the fleshy ring, then repeating the process on his long soft black pony taint. Then the leather dropped lower, and Luke knew where the next blow would fall.

"Please! No! I..."

A crack, and a soft slap, as leather bit into a pair of pony balls and Luke screamed out a whinny that shook the walls, and his long cock spat from the safe depths of his sheath to point at the ground and he begged and begged.

"Now we are getting somewhere..." rumbled the bear, as he tormented the pony by rubbing the underside of his low hanging sack with the whip, while the fox sprang into action.

He had been watching with rising arousal while the bear broke the young stallion, watching the magnificent bay fight and buck and eventually yield. That was the best of all, of course, and they always did. Duncan had such a talent for it.

Now the pony was almost ready for his rides, but he needed a little more preparation. Diving below the bench, Gerald reached for the quivering length of pony cock he had felt in the bath that day, the same one now twitching and throbbing in his paws. It felt amazing, and he knew he had been right the moment he touched it the first time. This pony would be special. This pony would be the one he needed.

He ran his paws the length of that magnificent pony flesh, feeling it swell until the head bulged like a ripe apple and the wide open urethra winked at him and the pony bound tight to the bench moaned and sighed. He reached up to take the special apparatus hanging from the underside of the bench, a special treat for their guests, especially ponies like this one. The ram had not been the same, never the same. Nothing compared to pony. This pony...

Luke shouted around the bit as he felt his cock suddenly wrapped in some soft sleek material, the sensation incredible for the inexperienced stallion. Hanging from the bottom of the bench, a length of beaver pelt had been attached, with straps for just this purpose. Working with sure paws, Gerald wrapped the pony's shaft in the beaver pelt, soft fur touching his skin, and tied it off tight so it hugged the throbbing pony cock nice and snug. Extra straps now fitted behind Luke's balls and round his shaft to hold it in place. He could push back or forward a little, jacking his poor pony cock in the soft silken sleeve of beaver pelt, but not extract his cock from its grasp. As a final touch, the fox placed a small bucket directly under the flared cock head and gave it a gentle kiss before standing and moving to Luke's head, staring into those soulful brown eyes with his own sparkling blue.

"Now pony, it's time. But first to get you ready..."

Luke knew what was coming now, or at least he thought he did. The other furs in the barn gave him little doubt, lewdly groping and rubbing their crotches as they stared at the pony, or like the bull, already openly stroking a length of hard bull meat dripping with glistening pre. There would be no pony trap to pull, not for him. The only pony trap was the one he had fallen into, the moment he stepped into the barn. The bear would be first though, as the pony trainer, and he liked to be gentle, the better to break a pony to his will.

Reaching for a pail of thick grease, the bruin hauled his kilt to one side, revealing 8 inches of thick bruin cock already flexing and drooling as he contemplated the deflowering to come. For young Luke was a virgin of that he had no doubt, though each touch of the pony told him his fox was right, there was something there, some need to feel a man's touch the pony had felt for a long time. He was going to get his introduction soon enough, but first to make it easy...

"Ohhhhhhhh"

First the bear knelt behind the stallion, admiring that perfect pony crevice, and the swish of a long black tail, and the flex of his ass. He reached in and hefted those balls, so hot and full of life, rolling them in their sack as the stallion finally bucked and strained, forcing his cock back and forward in the beaver skin sleeve, the sensations drawing surprised and delighted whinnies from his muzzle. Then the bruin bent forward to sniff, first his balls, then up his taint to his perfect ring, savouring pony musk, before giving in to the need to taste. A long rough bear tongue poked at Luke's entrance, and he was powerless to stop the bear, even though he tried to clamp down, and soon a long tongue ravished his entrance, drawing fresh cries and the first spurt of clear pony pre from Luke's heaving cock, the spurt leaving a line from the pony's flare all the way to the bucket placed carefully beneath.

"Now pony, open wide..."

Fresh moans, and Luke took bear fingers into his ass for the first time, liberally coated in thick grease to make the passage easier. It was not the first time Luke had felt a probing digit though; he had secretly been fingering himself in recent times, especially when he jacked his length imagining his friend Austin was the one touching him. A well placed finger, just inside his tough anal ring brought new heights of pleasure to the stallion, shamed as he was to admit it. Now he felt bear fingers not just inside his anus though, but sliding deep inside until they contacted something even the experimenting stallion didn't know of; a swollen pony nut.

Luke bucked wildly against the bench, his body in a turmoil as was his mind. Terrifying sensations coursed through his body, and his cock spurted another line of clear pre, the head swelling wider and blossoming like a rose. He should not be feeling this, could not...but he wanted those fingers in deeper, harder...

The bear had different ideas though.

Suddenly he felt his ass lips clenching nothing, as the bear stood behind the trussed up pony, and it was time for the first ride. Duncan fervently hoped it was the first of many; this pony was too good to lose.

He pressed the tip of his cock against the well lubed ring, pulled back on the reins to watch the muscles bunch on Luke's back and shoulders again, just for fun, and pressed hard, feeling the incredible feel of virgin pony ass open and spread and take his girth like a champ.

Luke whinnied loud, and the assembled furs gave a heartfelt cheer, many now jacking openly as they prepared for their turns. At $20 a ride, it was cheap, and they had money to burn since the ram had left town, with his tail between his legs and his ass still spread wide and dripping even as he rode.

Now they watched Duncan finally break the pony to his cock, letting Luke have a little more on each thrust, until he finally hilted with a grumbling grunt, and his tip slapped a twitching pony nut that needed more attention.

Another spurt of pony pre signalled success.

"Now relax pony, and enjoy. You are going to be having a lot of pony rides lad, so you might as well enjoy them."

"No....no...I...cant...on God...."

The experienced bear grinned down the length of Luke's prone form at the pony, pulling the reins again to make him watch his own fucking. And he did, appalled and aroused, watching the flow of muscles in the big bruin, the flex of hips, the clench of biceps as he hauled the reins, and over all the steady slap of hips on pony ass, and the deep burn of cock claiming ass, his ass, as the fat bear cockhead pummelled his virgin nut and drove him to the brink.

He tried to fight it, helplessly, as every heave and flex just drove more bear cock into his ass, and jacked his oversensitive cock into the sweet caress of beaver fur. He whinnied, he jerked, and suddenly Luke shot his first load for the night, spurts of fresh pony seed splatting into the bucket as he emptied out his balls for the first time with another male in his guts. The bear laughed and kept on thrusting, bringing him to the edge again before a series of rapid painful thrusts and the deep throated roar from behind signalled impending climax and he suddenly felt his ass bathed in scalding heat as bear cum spread through his depths and marked him for ever.

All the while, the fox stood at his head, gently stroking his neck and playing with his mane. The bull took his place next, his long tapered meat sliding easily into the well prepared pony hole, and Luke moaned again, while Gerald stroked his chin and nuzzled at his ears. The bear came round to hold the fox in his embrace and together they watched Tiny, the bull, begin a wild hard ride, fucking the pony with all his strength and vigour, now the pony had been stretched and prepared. His tapered tip teased a still sensitive pony nut, sliding over and caressing where the bear pummelled and probed, keeping the stallion on the edge but not yet ready to fall over. When the bull bellowed out his own orgasm and added a large dose of bull milk to the bear's load, Luke had been horrified to realise that he was disappointed. He wanted to cum so bad...with a male riding his ass.

Fortunately there were many takers for pony rides that night. The ram was up next, and his frenzied rapid thrusting and heavy sack slapping a well whipped pony taint brought the hapless stallion off again, depositing another load in the bucket. Then the sheriff had his turn, and Luke got to feel his first knot, the lawman tying the young stallion in the heat of his own orgasm and drawing a third ecstatic release from the now totally desperate equine.

His cock was so sensitive, rubbed almost raw by the beaver pelt, but it stimulated like nothing he had felt, and even as the next fur took his turn, and the next, the wild thrusts still sawed Luke's cock back and forward, driving him to the edge again, and with a bleating cry from a wild deer buck, his eighth ride for the night, Luke whinnied out a fourth orgasm to add to the pool growing in the bucket.

At last there were no more takers, and Duncan let the reins fall to the pony's back. He ran strong hands along the muscled length of the stallion, feeling his strength, and the way he shook but kept it in check. This was one special pony indeed. His master had been right.

"Do you think he will suit M'lord?"

The fox rubbed Luke's chin, looking into pony eyes now clouded with the knowledge of his breaking, and the feel of ecstatic release that came from a big male pounding his ass. He had a lot still to learn, but he would do.

"I t...t...th...think so...D..D...Du..Duncan..."

The bear smiled at his young lord, glad to hear him speaking again, even with the stutter that had made him ashamed to be in London society, and made his cruel father banish him to the Americas with money and an imprecation to stay away for good. Of course, there were other things too; the rumours...about his son's special predilection for ponies. The blacksmith's nephew...the miller's son...the three Dragoons from the local garrison.

Then there were the scandals in London, where the young fox lord, and future Marquis on his father's death, had been expelled from Blades for cheating at cards, an unprecedented social faux pas. The young fox was innocent for once, though he was a dab paw with the cards, the scandal covering up a deeper sandal, when the Viscount Lomond had found his son and pride and joy, a big and muscled stallion, rutting the fox in one of the London gambling club's private bedrooms.

Then the final straw, when the Marquis had found his despised stuttering son by the river cottage on their estate, being plowed by the Marquis own ghillie, a big shire stallion who was the Marquis favourite servant. Somehow the shock at finding him balls deep in the young fox had sent the Marquis into a final frenzy, and he had the stallion whipped and banished, then his son sent away. His rage was no less when one of the Marquis' valets, a Scots bear, had insisted on accompanying the young fox into exile.

Duncan had always had more than a soft spot for the fox, even as a kit. Now it had blossomed in their mutual exile, as the bruin showed the young fox lord how to be the total bottom he was and still be the master, and both had indulged their mutual tastes on unfortunate newcomers to their little home.

The time to return home was coming though. The Marquis' health was failing fast, and they could soon return, to the real Horton Manor.

They would need a pony though, for the new Marquis. One well broken, and in their thrall, to keep the young lord from mischief. Duncan needed to know if this was the one, and soon.

The fox stroked Luke's cheek, soothing the exhausted stallion, his eyes full of mixed emotions, lust and tenderness. He bent under the bench, pulling out the bucket of pony seed, dipping his paws into the thick contents and tasting the delicious brew on his tongue. So sweet, a true pony virgin. He lapped the cum from his paws before pressing one finger to the pony's muzzle. Luke tried to shut it tight, but the cruel bit kept his muzzle open, and a long fox finger slid into his muzzle insinuating its cargo of pony seed. He tasted, remembering the taste from earlier today, and he instinctively swallowed. The fox spooned more cum into his muzzle, and the pony lapped it up, almost in a trance.

The bear smiled, walking to the stallion's head to run rough fingers through his mane, before removing the bridle. Luke remained quiet, resting for now.

"Try his muzzle M'lord..."

The fox's eyes twinkled as he took in the possibility. He ran his hands down the pony's cheeks, feeling the soft fur, before reaching for his own britches to drop them to his knees, exposing a raging hard fox cock, already wet with precum. A gentle paw on the pony's mane dropped his head to the right level, and he pressed his hips forward, rubbing the tip of his cock on a pair of rubbery flexible pony lips.

Luke came out of his dazed state and tried to rear back. The bear frowned, walking behind the pony, his big paw rubbing down the velvet crack of Luke's exposed rear, now drooling a line of spent cum from a wide open and red raw anal pucker. The touch calmed him, and the bear rasped his claws over sensitive skin, digging into a swollen ring, scraping painfully along soft pony taint, then cupping a pair of well emptied pony balls and squeezing.

"Now lad...you belong to us now. Be a good pony."

"N...no..."

A squeeze brought a harsh whinny.

"You know you like the feel of a male pony. My master saw you, in the bath. He felt you too."

"M...master?"

"Yes, master. Lord Gerald StJohn Spalding, Viscount Renwich, and the future Marquis of Montgordon, lord of Horton Manor, and owner of this establishment. My master...and now yours."

"What?!"

"The contract you signed pony, makes you his, not mine. I'm just the manager; he is the owner. It's all there in the contract, as right as day."

"What about...about the ...the..."

"Ahhh the pony rides. Well, let's see lad. Eight rides, that's $160, however, I give half off when they make you seed, got to give a discount for nice rich pony milk don't we. Then interest...board...rent of the stable...by my reckoning you owe an extra $15 from tonight."

"What! Nooooooooooooo..."

Luke finally realised the depth of his predicament. No hope, no future, unless he took a dozen or more furs up his ass every night, and even then it would take forever to work off the debt. He broke, crying bent over the bench, as the bear stroked his ass tenderly and let him cry.

"Of course pony...there is an alternative."

Luke perked his ears up a little at that thought.

"You could agree to be his servant, in all things, and we bring you back to England with us."

"In...all...things..."

"Yes pony...get suckling."

The bear continued stroking the stallion, enjoying the feel of fat balls as they danced in his paws, and watched. The pony seemed to consider for a moment, as the fox stroked his chin, and then Duncan saw the stallion lower his head, and a sound like a cry mixed with a grunt came from the fox.

Luke did his best, using his strong lips to clamp around the fox's cock and slide up and down, tongue flicking the leaking tip. The fox became bolder as his arousal grew, and he used one paw to pull back his own sheath to expose a swelling knot, thrusting his hips forward to ram the sensitive flesh into the stallion's muzzle. Luke opened wide, and took all the fox had to give, letting out a nicker as he felt the bear's paw leave his behind, replaced by a newly hard bear cock, ready for a second helping.

As the fox's eyes clouded over in lust, he saw his beloved Duncan throw back his head, scrunch up his eyes and bare his teeth and ram his hips forward to spear into the pony's ass in one thrust. The reaction was exquisite, a long shuddering sigh of pleasure from the pony that transmitted itself to his cock and drove him to the edge, all the while watching his bear pound the pony through half lidded eyes.

It didn't take long before all three reached a shattering climax, the fox spurting into a hungry pony muzzle, the bear into a well fucked and well filled pony ass already dripping with cum, and the pony onto the ground, alas no bucket to take his seed this time. It didn't matter; they had enough already.

They untied the stallion, but not before a last little touch. In the corner of the barn, a small smith's forge had been kept hot, with a branding iron in the fire, bearing a shield with the eagle and the knight's helmet, symbol of the Marquis of Montgordon. This they proceeded to brand into Luke's rump, while the fox held his head and soothed his pain, before they untied him and led him to the bedroom upstairs.

The fire burned low and the candles had been lit. A slight change had been made though; manacles on the four corners of the bed, and the dazed pony, terribly sore in his ass and rump, was laid out and tied down while he awaited the next torment. It was not to be a torment though; and the bear lovingly coated his still hard cock in cum from the bucket, before helping his young master to impale himself on the pony's length, one long sigh accompanying the penetration until he had taken as much as he could.

Before it ended though, the fox achieved a new height, as he felt the pony cock slapping his prostate to send him into raptures, and gave voice to his pleasure with cries, and sobs, and then startled screams.

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh yes Duncan, yes yes yes!

He never stuttered when he rode a pony. Now he would have one for his very own.

As they rested, the bear cuddling both in his brawny arms, the fox fast asleep with his tongue protruding slightly to rest on a broad furred bear chest, the stallion wide awake and feeling the burn still hot in his tailhole and on his rump, the bear felt him moving and gave the pony a reassuring pat on the head.

"Feeling hard done by aren't ye lad."

"Well...yes!"

"I know lad, and maybe you have. But still, think on it this way. You wanted to see the world, and great cities, an magnificent buildings, and make your way in business."

"Yes, and all that is ruined now!"

"Oh is it lad? Tell me, what is London? What is Horton Manor? And though the young lord mostly needs a pony now, he also needs a business manager, to run the estates and his affairs. I canne do it lad, but I know you can. And you will find the rewards at least as great as you could hawking wares to unsuspecting pioneers."

He had to ponder that, suddenly seeing the possibilities. Then a bear paw clamped over his balls, and he squirmed in delight.

"Plus a Scots bear in your arse, and a Marquis on your cock. Not bad for a lost stallion without a home."

As the bear jacked him slowly into erection, he had to admit, it wasn't bad at all.

"Welcome home, pony me lad."