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Malcolm sighed, a long and heartfelt sound that would have drawn a sympathetic look from the most hard hearted of witnesses. Unfortunately, his wife was out with her girlfriends so there was nobody there to respond to his distress.

Besides, it really was his wife's fault he was in such a funk. She had prodded and needled and goaded him, telling him it was his duty as a father and a stag. Being lectured on his duties as a stag by that supercilious doe...well, it wasn't something you took lying down was it. Although, normally he did, of course. Another sigh, and the big buck screwed up his face at the memory.

She had to pester him at this time of year, for God's sake. Why Autumn? Normally Malcolm was a good subservient husband, well under his wife's ample fingerhooves, but not in Autumn. This time of year, well, there were other impulses to be listened to. He absentmindedly rubbed his antlers, scratching at the velvet in a welter of frustration. He let out another sigh, feeling the bottled up emotions starting to boil to the surface. He was tempted to head to the garage and his son's weightlifting setup to burn off some aggression, but he knew if would do no good. Alice would still pester him when she got back, and no amount of showing off his popped chest and cute chest tuft would stop her.

He wished he hadn't bitten back. Normally he managed to bite his tongue, but no, he had to give as well as he got this time, and she stormed off in a huff and told him not to wait up. He probably wasn't going to get any make-up sex either; just the cold shoulder and even colder response when he reached for her. He could almost hear the conversation now.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing"

Oh fuck, the power of nothing. A pissed off woman's ultimate weapon. No male could withstand the sheer passive aggressive power of the nothing.

He sighed again. Better get it over with.

As he trotted down the corridor to his son's room, he tried to remember his own youth. His father had never had The Talk with him either, and it fell to his brother to fill him in on what it meant to be a stag, especially at this time of year. Of course, Cory didn't have a brother, but still. Surely the internet was all he needed? That was the only good side of it; the ability for fathers to avoid the crushing embarrassment of The Talk with their male offspring. Somewhere amongst the Europorn and Twerking there had to be a good explanation of it...

Rut.

Just saying the word in his head made the straight-laced stag blush. How the hell was he supposed to...?

He found himself standing outside the room, his son's door firmly closed. Nothing new there, Cory was a stickler for privacy, had been since he was 13. Malcolm knew, of course, and let it ride even when his wife complained loudly and insisted on the right to barge into Cory's room without knocking. In a rare show of solidarity, Malcolm had allowed his young son to borrow his tools and install a small but efficient slide bolt on his door. A brief nod between the two males was all that was required. He knew, and his dad knew, and they knew that the other knew, but nobody needed to say it.

Now he had to say it though, and he wished the apocalypse might come forward a touch and prevent it. With a last sigh, he knocked on the door, still scratching his antlers. Fucking velvet, so bloody itchy.

"Yeah..." the voice was not welcoming,

"It's me son. Can I come in? We need to talk."

There was a long and noticeable pause, along with some strange noises. Malcolm frowned, imagining what he might have interrupted. Then again, all the more reason to go through with it...and of course, avoiding further wrath from his wife. That had to rate somewhere.

He heard the sounds recede, then the clop of hooves towards the door. There was a loud thud as the bolt was drawn back, and then the door opened enough for a muzzle and eyes to appear in the gap.

"Um...is it dinner time Dad?"

"Not yet, I'm ordering pizza in a bit though."

"Awww cool! Make sure there is plenty of mushroom..." the stag held up his hand a little wearily.

"Yes yes I know, now, can I come in please? We need to discuss something other than your bottomless pit of a stomach."

The young buck looked startled, and his eyes darted around a little. He looked like he was going to refuse, which made the big buck puff out his chest and frown. The young buck seemed to realise this was a bad idea, and he opened the door slowly and trotted back to sit on his bed. His discomfort increased exponentially as his father followed him and sat next to him on the messy disaster zone that was a typical teenager's sleeping spot.

"So...son..."

"Um...Dad..."

"Son, I think, well, I think it's time we had a little chat."

"Um...Dad...er...what do you mean?"

"Son, don't think I haven't noticed certain...things."

Now the younger buck looked terrified, his eyes darting round the room wide open and staring.

"Dad...I'm...sorry...really..."

"It's ok son, I went through the same thing, we all do."

"You...did too? When? Who? Was it...was it Roger?" The stag plowed on, a little perplexed by his son's questions, but he was on a roll now. The topic having been breached, he felt like he could make it through unscathed if he just didn't stop. Mostly.

"Son, every deer faces it...well, every stag. The yearly call of rut...but for a young deer, it's puzzling I know, even frightening."

"Oh...um....sure...rut..."

"I know...well, I know you've been feeling the effects for a few years now, and I probably should have had this talk earlier, but well, I thought you would maybe prefer to find out on your own. But this year, well it seems to have hit really hard, and I thought it was time to talk..."

"Ahhh...yeah..."

"You see, son, for us deer, rut is a special time. Our bodies prepare for certain things, and it has a lot of effects. If you didn't have to keep your antlers down for football, you would notice them growing like mine...I'm over eighteen points, something to aim for son."

"Hmmm..."

"And of course, aggression. I remember when I was sixteen...golly, it was a mystery. Suddenly I wanted to fight everyone, butt heads, wrestle, rub my antlers over the furniture...I was like a deer possessed."

"Hehe yeah, I think I know that feeling..."

"I know son. School has been in touch a few times; little fights, battles with your teachers. From model student to total rebel in a couple of months. Detentions every week...don't think we didn't know. You may be able to forge my signature on your notes, but you can't answer my phone for an irate principal."

"Ohhhh God..."

"Son, I understand. And I believe things have gotten a little better the last couple of weeks...so I assume you found the same...well...solution I did."

"Dad...you mean..."

"Yes, son we all did it. Even your old man. I used to pound my...errr...you know what five times a day when the season was on. Twice before breakfast, sometimes even at school, a couple of times before bed. It was the only way. I guess you found that too, as it's got better. It will go back to normal in a few more weeks, once the rut season ends you can go back to more...er...normal rates of..well...but I just wanted to let you know...it's ok son. It's natural, for a stag like you. Don't be embarrassed."

"Oh...well...no...I mean...I'm not embarrassed but..."

"And remember, you can talk to your old man. I've been there, done that after all, a stag just like you. When those strange feelings come, well, remember I've had them every year too, though of course it's not as bad now as when I was younger like you."

"Um...thanks Dad..."

"So, keep the aggression in control...with you know. Oh...and, what did you mean about Uncle Roger?"

"N...nothing Dad. Just...don't worry..."

The big buck ruffled his son's headfur, and ran a hand over each little nub of antler. It was a shame they had to, but for football, his son was willing to sacrifice even his impressive rack. Malcolm admired the boy's dedication.

"I won't son. Now we've had this talk...well, I feel a lot better. Don't you?"

"Yes dad."

"So...pizza!"

"Yeah! With..."

"...extra mushrooms, I know."

The big stag trotted out, but not before he turned and winked at his son.

"I'll...leave you to it..." and he closed the door firmly and headed back to the garage to do some weights. He didn't care if Alice noticed...he wanted the burn of adrenaline...and maybe, if she wouldn't put out...he could relieve some pressure himself afterwards. A good set on the bench press always got his inner stag pumping, especially this time of year.

Cory listened to the sound of receding hooves, until he could no longer hear his Dad's tread. He relaxed finally, and let out a long sigh of his own, but unlike his father, this sigh was one of relief.

A voice came from his built-in wardrobe.

"Is it safe?"

"Yeah...well, I think he's gone. My mind will never be safe again after that conversation..."

The door opened, and a semi-naked equine appeared, wearing only his boxers and t-shirt. The rest of his clothes had been kicked under the bed hastily when Cory knew he couldn't escape his Dad's insistence on a talk.

The young stallion, whose name was Jason, shook his head as he retrieved his clothes.

"I thought we were gonners then Cor."

"Yeah, thank fuck Dad was too preoccupied to notice the scent of horse in the room."

"That's nothing. Your wardrobe man...holy hell that stinks..."

"Well, it probably saved us. Nobody would notice your horsey stink."

"So...I'm...glad we had that talk..."

The stallion had a huge grin on his face as he patted the deer on the head. Cory returned his grin with a grimace.

"Yeah...sweet..."

"Now if only he had done it a few weeks ago."

"Well...two weeks ago, anyway..."

*****

Two Weeks Before.

"Dammit Reynolds!"

"Fuck you!"

*Twwwwwwwweeeeeeteeeet*

The two young footballers had managed to get beyond the jumper pulling stage and it almost looked like actual blows would land. The whole team had been watching it brew, partly fascinated and partly appalled. Now it had spilled, and it looked like their ruck rover was the lucky fur in the wrong place at the wrong time. He had gone for a fairly innocuous bump on his teammate and deer Cory Reynolds as they fought for a loose ball on the wing. Suddenly, the stag, who had been on a short fuse all session, lost his shit and it looked like the proverbial was going down.

Their coach blew his whistle, without much effect. More useful was the intervention of the two guys' teammates. Cory's best mate, a tall equine, managed to wrap his arms around the buck's chest and pull him backwards at the same time their captain and full forward, a stocky bull, managed to get the small but pissed off tiger ruck rover out of the contest.

"Fucking let me at him!"

"Reynolds, kiss my ass!"

"I'll fucking kill him!"

The young stag had felt the red mist descend as soon as the tiger impacted his hip. The little cunt had copped him a good one during a marking drill; now the kitty wanted to play. He would give the fucker play...

"Knock it off! Reynolds...what the actual...fruitcake...has gotten in to you!"

"Nothing coach! The stupid cat just..."

"Stupid cat nothing! You have turned into a total...fruitcaking menace in the space of a month. I can't light a big enough fire under you...assets...to get you to even bump a player off the ball in two years, the ultimate soft gentle little doe, and now suddenly you want to kill everyone even on your own team."

"Fucking Stevic that cat I'll..."

"...nothing! You will do absolutely nothing Reynolds, you stupid deer. The hell is this...sugar. What is eating you boy?"

"N...nothing..."

The usually mild-mannered wolf frowned. He didn't like mysteries, and this was one of his biggest. He really really didn't like big mysteries.

"Nothing. Well, until you sort out your sh...shenanigans, that's exactly what you're doing on my team Reynolds. Hit the showers and take an early one, you aren't playing on the weekend."

"Coach!"

"No buts deer. I know I talk a lot of shit about football being like war and that stuff but you can't go to war facing your own side. No deal...now get."

The wolf was still pissed off as he watched the big red deer trot off seething, his tail flicking at a hundred flicks a minute to express his anger. He noticed his ruckman, the deer's best friend, biting his tongue and looking shocked. His expression became another notch darker.

"What is it Campbell?"

"Ahhh...nothing...just..."

"Please, thrill me with your acumen pony..."

"Well...you said 'shit'...sir..."

"That I did. That I did. Campbell?"

"Yes Sir?"

"Give me 20 laps of the oval and then a hundred pushups. Now."

"Shit!"

"Thirty laps...get trotting pony."

The assembled team had to stifle grins at that. Nobody hated distance runs more than their equine friend. The coach liked to send him on laps when he was in a really pissed off mood, one of the little quirks they all knew. Thirty laps was a new record though.

Cory was seething all the way to the changerooms. When he got in, the anger suddenly let fly; he punched walls, landed a few hefty kicks with his hooves that bent metal, and rammed his head into the door of his own locker. He had forgotten his lack of antlers; now he was getting a serious rack, he had been made to nobble them for the football season so he couldn't injure anyone. As a result, it was his skull rather than his antlers that impacted the door with a sickening thud, and he fell back a little dazed. A trickle of blood ran down from his eyebrow like a little red question mark, but he didn't notice until it reached his muzzle.

Then he felt the insistent tingle against his lips, and absently flicked a tongue out to wipe it away. It tasted metallic and rich, and he licked more.

Hmmm...an honourable wound...now if only another stag would join in the fun...

He reached up to rub the little nubs where his antlers had been. It felt...sensitive, raw...and as usual, he got the feeling as he did every time right now. He pressed his head against the locker, his antler nubs scraping over metal. It felt good...and even better when he rubbed, hard...

A challenge!

His nostrils flared and he butted the locker again, and this time he saw stars as his sore head impacted the metal. He sat for a long time with his head in his hands, rocking quietly, before he stripped and headed for the showers.

Might as well do what the stupid fucking woof wants...

Hot water cascaded over his fur. It felt good again, washing away the sweat and the pain and the blood. He felt every drop, almost like it was touching him deliberately for maximum sensation. His body writhed to the feelings like he was dancing with the water, and he closed his eyes and flicked his tail up, bleating a little as the hot water trickled down his soft crevice. His cock, already half hard and poking from his sheath, extended fully in an instant, and he moaned as his hand sought out the long thin expanse of erectile flesh that had become his best friend in recent weeks. He needed...so much.

His reverie was interrupted by a scraping sound of hooves on concrete. Cory opened his eyes and saw his best friend standing there, staring wide eyed with a massive bulge in his footy shorts. What surprised him the most was that he didn't feel remotely embarrassed.

A challenger maybe...

"What are you staring at Jase..."

"Um...Cor...what the fuck..."

The young buck dipped his head back under the shower and closed his eyes again. He took the time to replay the sight of his mate in his mind, the tall equine all aroused, his flare obvious against the fabric of his shorts, the scent of pony sheath filling his nostrils. He flared them, drinking in the scent. Another male...ahhh, so sweet.

"Haven't you ever seen another guy jack it before Jase?"

"Um, in the school gym changerooms? No. Come to think of it, we've been sleeping over at each other's places for years Cor, and you never let me see your dick. You're like the shyest, most level guy I've ever known, and suddenly..."

"Suddenly what pony."

"I don't even fucking know."

There was a long sigh, and a frustrated nicker, and the equine stripped off and chose a shower two spots down from his friend. Just far enough...not to mean anything. More water flowed, and Cory suddenly felt his shower turn cold.

"Fucking watch it you stupid horse!"

He moved sideways, and his hoof jerked out, and he managed to catch one pony fetlock with the tip of his hoof.

"Fucking shit fuck!"

The deer suddenly felt himself slammed against the shower wall, one big hand wrapped around his throat. He wasn't scared though...his cock jerked against his belly, and he stared into the wide open eyes of his best mate with an evil grin.

"That's it pony...more..."

"You have gone so fucking weird Cor...I don't know what the fuck to do any more."

The horse shook his head mournfully and opened his hand, moving back under his own shower head and turning his back on the buck. Cory watched him, chest heaving with a mix of emotions. He was hurt, and angry, but also something else...something that came from watching the water forming an enticing river down that muscled spine, around the well-wrapped dock and between a pair of perfect pony butt cheeks. His tongue extended, and he licked air, imagining the taste of that musky crevice, and the feel of a pony ass around his length. He had to bite his tongue to avoid bleating loudly then, instead slamming his fist into the shower wall before he turned off the water.

His hard-on could wait until he got home, and could enjoy a long satisfying jack off to thoughts of that pony ass.

As he hurriedly dressed, he managed to take another look. His friend was genuinely upset, he could tell. When Jase's ears were like that, it wasn't good.

"Jase...I'm sorry..."

"Save it Cor."

"Why are you in here anyway?"

"I had a discussion with coach. After he sent me on a nice gentle jog..."

"Hehe well you know how much he enjoys making you sweat Jase."

"Yeah, thanks. And all down to you, stupid doe. Then I made the mistake of begging him to let you back on the team. So I'm out as well, no game this Saturday. That midget fucking meerkat Okinwe gets to play ruck. He will need to get a piggyback off someone just to reach the ball, we are going to get slaughtered. It's all your fault."

"Shit, Jase, I'm sorry..." the equine held up a hand, and turned off the shower, picking up a towel. Cory found his insides churning in unexpected and delightful ways as he watched the powerful stud run his towel over that body, mentally taking in every detail, every muscled bump and curve.

"No, it's not your fault. It's mine. I should tell you to fuck off, instead I'm sticking up for you. I'm the idiot Cor."

"Jase, tell you what. As were both stuck without a game this Saturday, how about you come over to my place to hang out? The 'rents are out for the day at a wedding up country, we can pump some iron, murder some X-Box, down some hotdogs, and generally dude up the joint...what do you say?"

He was rewarded with a shy smile, and suddenly the warm churning feeling grew even warmer.

"Yeah, sounds good bro. See you there."

He watched the muscled perfection of that pony ass as his friend trotted out, all the time barely able to contain the scream inside his head.

What the actual fuck is happening to me?

*****

"One more!"

The equine groaned, but did what he was told, pushing with all his might. He had locked his hooves together under the weights bench, using every ounce of muscle and power and will to force the barbell up one more time. His biggest lift ever, by 15 pounds, and the manic deer was making him do a full set.

The weight came down again, having made full extension he was proud to see.

"One more you weak ass pony!"

"Fuck you Cor!"

"Come on, prove me wrong little doe!"

"Arghhhhh!"

Sweat flew, and he blew his forelock out of his face with a huff. It stuck to his forehead instead, a little black curl that the deer just wanted to nibble so bad. The eyes were wild though, set and grim as his biceps and pecs and shoulders bunched and shook. The iron bar lifted again, slowly.

"That's it Jase! Now, one more!"

"Fuck you!"

"No, fuck you!"

"I can't!"

"Yes you can you chickenshit little mare. C'mon; not a big wild stallion are you, just a weak little mare, scared of breaking a fingerhoof..."

"I will fucking KILL YOU AGHHHHHH!"

With a great heave, Jason managed to get the weight up. Then his arms began to give way.

"Ohhh shit Cor!"

The stag was almost too busy breathing hard and slapping the pony's shoulder to realise, and it took him a fraction of a second to get his hands into play. The barbell came down, halfway to the stallion's chest, and it took both their strength to barely get it to the brackets. The exhausted equine lay there, panting and covered in sweat, eying up his friend accusingly.

"Some...fucking...spotter...you are...bastard..."

"Come on Jase, you did it."

"And damn near...fucking...killed myself...you stupid doe..."

One stag hand come out of nowhere and slapped a pony muzzle.

"What the fuck?"

"What did you call me?"

"Oh I'm sorry! You...stupid...motherfucking...doe!"

"GRRRRRRRRRRR!"

There was a flurry of fur, and Cory made a mad lunge for his friend. He managed to catch hold of the stallion's mane, then they were wrestling hard, a ball of lunging grunting muscle with the equine still trapped against the weights bench. As angry as he was though, Jason found even the surge of adrenaline wasn't enough to overcome the incredible fatigue in his body. He had done far more weight than Cory, and that last set had killed him. His whole upper body was a mass of lactic acid, and he suddenly cramped everywhere even while he struggled against the deer.

They had fights before, growing up, even quite serious ones, as well as many many play fights and wrestles. This was something different though; and the pony realised too late what the difference was. His shy, always gentle mate, was deadly serious. He really wanted to hurt him, and he was succeeding.

The buck forced the cramping pony down, hard, slapping his muzzle and using his mane for leverage. All Jason could do was say sorry, and plead, but the deer kept on making the most unusual grunting noises. Then he straddled the prone pony, shifting his bulk up to straddle Jason's chest. Cory's shorts had fallen down in their struggles, and the equine was confronted by the sight of a naked and aroused stag groin, one long pink cervine cock now only inches from his muzzle. A hand yanked at his mane, pulling him closer.

"That's it little doe...suck me...suck me..."

"Mpfghghhh!"

"Come on little doe...you lost, time to pay...this stag knows his doe, I can smell you....can you smell your stag?"

Involuntarily, Jason flared his nostrils. The stink was powerful, rich and potent. He felt his own length give a sudden jolt inside his workout shorts, as his body responded to the signals from an aroused rutting stag, whose sheath pulsed with life only a fraction away from his muzzle. Then the leaking tip touched his lips.

"Open wide doe..."

"Ohhhhumfgh!"

How long he had secretly wanted this, Jason could not remember. He had a crush on his deer buddy for years, but nothing in his mate ever indicated the slightest inclination for dude sex. Suddenly, the deer had gone nutso, and now he found himself opening wide as the dominant buck used his mane to guide his lips down a twitching buck shaft. The taste was musky, and sweaty, and almost sweet...and the feel...oh God, the feel...

"That's it doe...such a good doe..."

He nickered in shame, but nuzzled the invading cock anyway, and he finally managed to get one arm working well enough to reach up and cup the furry ball sack nudging his chin. They squeezed so beautifully, and it made an extra spurt of thick pre drool into his muzzle to coat his tongue and make him nicker again, this time in need. The buck relaxed his grip on Jason's mane, as he realised the lost pony needed no such encouragement, his muzzle bobbing enthusiastically on his length with lips locked tight to glide over sensitive skin.

Then he felt pony lips on his sheathlips.

"Fffffuck...."

He bucked his hips wildly and suddenly gripped the pony's muzzle hard to hold him against his pubes and unloaded a mammoth flood of cervine spunk into a greedy pony maw, the equine gulping down every last drop he could take but still losing some out of his inexperienced muzzle to dribble down his chin and coat his coarse chin hairs in his friend's cum.

Suddenly he could breathe again, as the hot length left his muzzle. Jason closed his eyes, fighting for equilibrium, his body still laid out on the bench.

"Not enough doe...the buck needs more..."

"Wait...no...Cor!"

The stag used Jason's arm, pulling it roughly up and painfully twisting, until the bemused and mortified equine had turned round to straddle the bench, his chest pressed to the vinyl. He felt soft fur against the inside of his thighs as his friend joined him, and he let out a crying whinny as his wrist was twisted hard behind his neck.

"Time for the winning buck to take his doe..."

"Cor! Wait..."

But the stag wasn't waiting. Jason felt his workout shorts pulled down, roughly, hurting his tail as it flicked up and out. He blushed crimson as he realised he had automatically raised his long pony tail, the hairs cascading along his spine as he bared his crevice. He felt cold breeze on his tailhole, and his balls lifted high as his donut clenched involuntarily as if anticipating what was to come. Then he felt warmth replace the cold, as a long cervine cock slid against his perineum and prodded his pucker, while the buck jabbed his hips wildly in a fast hotdogging ride.

"Ugh...ugh...ugh...AGHHHHHH!"

A sudden change in angle, and a twin cry of shock. One from an equine suddenly losing his virginity to his best mate, but not exactly how he imagined when he jacked off to the fantasy late at night. Then he always mounted the cute buck and gave his ass a hard pounding. Now instead he felt the reality of his raw pucker being spread by a leaking tapered cervine cock that felt so hot and wet, and suddenly the buck rammed it home and he nickered and cried out as his prostate bore the brunt of a battering from the stag and his tunnel spasmed at the sudden stretching intrusion.

The second cry was a triumphant bellow from a stag, his body in control of his mind, as he revelled in the sensation of mounting a hot tight pony ass belonging to the stud friend of his dreams, one he had never thought he would have the courage to ask for a kiss let alone slam down and brutally fuck. But now he was doing it, and as he rammed in deeper, he felt the first clench of a pony ass reacting to his cock smacking a pony nut, and he wanted more. He grunted again, pulled back and slammed in harder, this time drawing a long high pitched whinny and a shudder. He bent over the prone equine and nuzzled against his neck, licking and suckling.

"Such a good doe..."

"Oh God Cor...oh God..."

The ride was a hard one, and a fast one. He rocked his hips wildly, slapping his hips against those perfect mounds of pony ass and speared his cock in over and over while the equine shook and moaned under him. He felt his balls clench, body on fire with the imminence of his first release inside another guy's ass, not just any ass, his mates perfect pony ass. He felt it grip him like a perfect glove as he rode on, finding a series of rapid wildly uncoordinated thrusts right at the end as his cock blossomed into pure pleasure and he filled Jason's needy hole with his second climax before he fell forwards and cuddled the prone stallion from behind, his wildly ruffled chest tuft rubbing against silken chestnut stallion coat as he nibbled the tip of Jason's mane.

The body under him suddenly began to heave and he fell backwards, pulling out with his cock still hard and dripping. He got a good view of the full length of Jason's cleft, spread wide, his tailhole open and drooling a line of white buck sperm that glistened against the black velvet of his taint all the way to a pair of massive stallion balls resting on the bench. He was still watching this amazing sight, fighting for breath, when the equine suddenly turned to look him in the eye.

In a flash, Cory snapped to reality and realised what he had done. The second cum had done it, and the mist of rut had cleared temporarily, to be replaced by a complete sensual satisfaction and lethargy, and a tinge of fear.

"Jase! Ohhh fuck...Jase...I'm..."

"Cor...what...why...what..."

"Jase...breathe...deeper...calm down..."

"Calm down? Calm down?"

The stag suddenly felt the fear build. His friend was wide eyed and staring, his eyes blazing and his body shaking. Jason lifted himself off the bench, and the stag finally saw in heart-stopping detail everything, confusion and lust written in conflicting lines on his friend's face, and in other signs as well...including the thick flared pony cock still hard and leaking, and the puddle of horse seed covering the weight bench and dripping onto the floor.

Cory just wanted to curl up and sleep now, aggression, lust, everything forgotten. But the pony had different ideas.

"You...bastard..."

"Jase, really..."

"I wanted you for years....you bastard!"

"Jase, please, let's just take this slowly..."

"Oh I will Cor...I will..."

And he intended to. Very, achingly, teasingly, ball clenchingly slowly. His upper body had recovered now, as had his stamina and his breath. One very large, very powerful ball of teenage equine muscle was on the case, as was a needy dripping stallion cock. There was much to discuss, and he was going to have that discussion with a very tight deer anus. A very long, deep discussion.

"Um...can we at least...go to my bedroom?"

"After you Cor."

So it was that the buck found himself with his head against the faux colonial bed head, muzzle drooling into his pillow, with his ass poking up and vulnerable, as a stallion did his best to repay the favour. But where their first had been wild, unplanned and brutal, Jason was a different kind of lover to a rutting stag, as Cory was to find out.

First he blew hot air on the stag's cleft, watching the skin dance as Cory felt his senses on fire, and then he lapped at the stag's cleft, tonguing his wrinkled tight pucker for ages, before forcing a long equine tongue in to lap and stroke and stretch. He even found a delightfully spongy deer nut and played with it mercilessly, always stopping when Cory got close to release.

Then he brought his hands in to the game, jacking a long and now very needy deer cock as he ate out his best mate's ass, until his hand dripped in deer precum and the poor buck was pushing his ass back and begging like a doe in heat. Only then, and after protracted pleading and some sensual fingering of an amazingly pliant deer anus, did he mount the buck with exquisite slow care, one inch at a time, until an age later his balls kissed that well licked furry taint and the buck went into spasms as he rubbed his antler stubs against the woodwork. A playful nicker and a wiggle of the hips and Jason used his flare on his friend's prostate until he was screaming, and only then did he deign to fuck the poor lost stag.

He didn't last long, but neither did the deer, both climaxing and falling into an untidy heap with the stallion still buried in his mate's now very full wet ass with his flare scraping along the walls of a no longer virgin deer tunnel. He pulled the buck against him, nibbling his neck hairs, and began to stroke his antler stubs as the deer shuddered and bleated.

"Now Cory, for the love of all that is fucking holy, you better have some good answers."

Of course, the deer didn't. All he knew was that he had changed, a lot, and thoughts he had harboured for a long time suddenly became wild actions he scarcely believed of himself. But with a horse cock buried hilt deep in his ass, and the remembered feel of a tight pony hole and muzzle still sending a frisson of pleasure up his cock, he felt that at least there was something to be said for whatever this was. As long as Jason didn't beat the shit out of him.

"So, think you can stay calm now?"

"Well...I feel pretty calm now. Like a new deer. But...well, what do we do if...if it comes back..."

"I have a plan."

A cunning plan, and a sensible one, involving Jason sneaking into his friend's room every night so Cory's dad wouldn't get suspicious about why they were spending so much time together. The stallion worked out a routine; he would allow the stag to wrestle him into a wild rut fuck followed by Jason taking a turn as the top when the edge had been taken off his mate. After all, that was what friends were for...

*****

"So, now we know Cor."

"Yeah, apparently this is...normal..."

"And regular...and temporary..."

"Yeah. Um Jase, will you still...you know, when I'm back to normal."

"Course mate. Though, your days as a top may be numbered. Same time, next year though. According to your dad, it's...what did he say...he's been there, done that, a stag just like you. I still don't want to imagine your dad doing any of this though."

"Trust me, there isn't enough brain bleach to get me through that vision. Besides, I think he just jacked off until he met Mum."

"And what does he do now? Didn't they have a fight or something? Do you know what about?"

"Beats me. Well, I have found my weights moved, so I assume he tries to work out, gets horny and...yeah, don't want to finish that sentence."

"Do you think he's...like right now...on the weights bench where we...you know...fuck, I wonder if he can smell it. You did wipe it down after I...well..."

Silence.

"Cor? You wiped it down didn't you?"

Silence.

"Oh fuck, you mean...your dad is bench pressing on a puddle of my dried horse spoo.."

"Jase!"

The stag assumed a disgusted expression, and dropped his head and stared at his friend's chest.

"Well done Jase...I think you woke my inner stag again..."

The stallion at least managed to slide the bolt on his friend's door lock before the buck tackled him from behind. He fought back, as he always did, but not very effectively. He was, after all, a good friend. And a good friend supports his stag mate when he's in a rut, any way he can.