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“Kyron! Kyron! Where are you?” The young, black wolf could hear the booming voice of a grown Holsteiner stallion getting carried into his chamber, where he was diligently working at his desk, making a copy of a recent botany book. The equine voice, which seemed to penetrate the thick oak door with astounding ease, sent small shivers down the feral canine’s spine, and not just because he was surprised to hear it. Kyron knew that whenever his master was seeking him this enthusiastically, it was never for anything pleasant. Already hearing the powerful hooves beating the cobblestone of the corridor beyond the chamber door, Kyron decided not to answer and instead took deep breaths to prepare for what he knew was coming. But, as usual, his preparation was for nothing. The small wolf nearly jumped up from the small cushion he was sitting on as the big, brown stallion with a shiny, dark mane burst inside the chamber with all the grace of an enraged bull charging at a barn wall. The horse barged into the small chamber without slowing down his steps, nearly kicking the door off its hinges as he slammed it open with his forelegs. Books, scrolls, and parchment blew up from near the entrance, flying haphazardly across the room while the stallion’s hooves scraped the planks of the chamber floor. For a few heartbeats, Kyron thought the equine intruder was about to slam into him and his tiny desk. But by some miracle, the snorting stallion was able to bring his hooves to a halt a mere foot before the collision. Like a storm, his master had arrived. Kyron figured he would have gotten used to it after years of service, but no. The wolf could feel his heart slamming itself on the inside of his furry chest as the equine’s raucous entrance left him shocked and distraught, even more so than usual. Kyron swallowed and inhaled the dusty, parchment-scented air of the chamber, trying to get his heart to settle before eventually turning his muzzle up to look at the arrived stallion. He ended up almost bumping snouts with the enthusiastic equine, who had leaned his big head with its thick muzzle over the desk. Beyond the big, flaring nostrils and long bridge of an equine snout, two yellow eyes flickered with fervor. The wolf and stallion looked each other in the eye for a few seconds before the male Holsteiner erected his neck and backed off from the desk. “I got it! I finally got it!” The big stallion soon announced, snorting triumphantly whilst catching his breath in the middle of the now messy chamber. “Ha haa~ By Ixhibar's tail, I’ve got it!” The restless stallion stomped the floor with his forehooves, appearing to have great difficulties staying still due to how excited he was. “I-is something wrong, sir Hothfred? What is it exactly that you’ve… Got?” Kyron cleared his throat, carefully removing the ink bottle from the top of his workstation in case the careless horse knocked it over in his frenzy. “Something big, dear Kyron! Something monumental!” The stallion snorted while his eyes darted all over the chamber, looking for something. That something ended up being a large mirror, squeezed between a pair of bookshelves. As soon as he saw it, the smooth-coated stallion made his way over and began tossing his head to fix up his mane that had been disheveled in his violent entry to the wolf scribe’s chamber. “Consider yourself fortunate, my canine friend, for your master is a genius. Yes… The name Tharek Hothfred might as well be synonymous with the words ‘wit’ or ‘acumen’. If you happen to work on a dictionary any time soon, feel free to denote my name under those two terms.” The horse huffed, trying and failing to get a few dozen hairs on his mane to land on the correct side of his head. “I’ll… Keep it in mind, sir.” Kyron replied, internally rolling his eyes at the haughty horse. Even amongst nobles, the wolf’s master was in his own class when it came to arrogance. “So I assume you have come up with something… Brilliant then?” “I most certainly have!” Therak spoke with his usual, smug tone of voice, dramatically turning his shapely muzzle towards Kyron. “I’ve finally come up with a way to get into the king’s favor! One that cannot fail!” Kyron once again rolled his internal eyes. Of course, it was about that again. Kyron’s master, Baron Tharek Hothfred, the haughty stallion who had just barged himself into the wolf’s chamber, was obsessed with becoming the king’s right-hand stallion. The wolf swore it was all the equine thought about. For years, Kyron had been witness to the Holsteiner’s many attempts at courting King Zagrif’s favor with little to no success. Not only was he a tad more arrogant than the average noble, but he was also more ambitious, constantly trying to align himself with the levers of power with admirable persistence. His reasons for it – Kyron reckoned – were the very same as why his attempts had mostly failed. He was young and low-ranking amongst the kingdom’s nobility. Bursting with ambition, but lacking in experience and tact: the qualities which any sensible leader would value in his aides. For years, Kyron had been the outlet for Tharek’s frustration, forced to listen to both the elaborate schemes the stallion was constantly concocting, as well as the bitter agony of the subsequent failures. As the scribe of the Hothfred family, he was never too busy not to listen to the frustrated ramblings of his master. Or that was how young Tharek seemingly thought of Kyron and his position. This was far from the first time the black wolf had been interrupted from his work by the cocky sprout of the noble family of Holsteiner horses. “...As expected of you, young master!” Kyron spoke, forcing a smile onto his dark muzzle while the stallion continued tossing his mane. “Save your praise, Kyron, and allow me to share with you the infallible plan which shall win over his royal Highness Zagrif. You see, I was just at the reception of a foreign monarch. A rather elegant feline, a lion. King… Veran, I think, was his name.” “King Veran the Second. The ruler of Sanvall.” “Precisely! Although I would prefer that you don’t interrupt me while I enlighten you on the matter, as I find it most uncivilized. Where was I… Ah, the reception of King Veran. So, like most characters of note, I was invited to witness the start of King Veran’s visit to our fair kingdom. Due to the obvious scheming of the other, hooflicking nobles, I was once again forced to observe the events from the very middle of the throne room, even though I would have preferred to stand closer to the king on such an important occasion. Lucky for the others, I know how and when to act gracefully instead of thinking of my own position.” Tharek explained, as humbly as ever, while Kyron concealed a sigh underneath his muzzle. “Anyhow, after a while, the feline King finally enters. And let me tell you, he was a gorgeous specimen. Well-proportioned body, elegant muzzle, dignified eyes, gorgeous mane… You know… Someone such as myself, except a feline.” Therak huffed pompously. “However, dismissing how regal he appeared, there was another thing about his entry that garnered quite a bit of attention in the court. You see, he arrived through the entrance on wolfback. And I know your commoner mind must be thinking, ‘but royalty use carriers quite regularly across many kingdoms,’ but let me tell you, it was nothing like that, dear Kyron. King Veran was not riding just your ordinary carrier. Now, when you think of a carrier, you usually imagine someone who's at least equal in size to the one they are carrying. Someone robust with a steadfast back and strong limbs who carries others for a profession. The wolf beneath King Veran was nothing of the sort.” Kyron finally perked up his ears, hearing mention of his own kind. “This wolf carrying the lion… Imagine the weakest wolf you’ve ever seen. Small with twig-like limbs, with barely any muscle. Someone who resembles a regular servant more than they do a professional carrier. Someone you think could just easily get trampled by a bigger feline, not someone who could in any way support a grown lion’s entire weight on their shoulders. That’s the kind of wolf King Veran made his entrance on top of. The contrast of it was almost outlandish. A proud, majestic feline sitting comfortably on his ride, while this puny canine appeared to be struggling for his life, trying not to collapse underneath a royal arse. Hah~ It was quite the sight.” Tharek whinnied, flapping his ears. Despite getting his interest piqued by the stallion’s story, the canine scribe was not heavily inclined to believe its contents at face value. If any stallion in Equenefis knew the art of exaggeration, it was Tharek Hothfred. “Naturally, everyone’s eyes were on this wolf, almost as much as they were on King Veran himself. And I must admit it was difficult not to be enchanted by the canine servant as he crawled across the red carpet with his back arched so low and his feet trembling terribly. It was the kind of display that one might think if they looked away for a single second, they might miss the wolf stumble down and get himself completely squashed by the bigger beast. Hah~! I reckon I was one of the few who possessed the fortitude not to get entirely captivated by the canine’s shaky steps or the subtle swaying of King Veran’s posterior. And of course, my superior perception ended up paying off.” Therak snorted complacently. “While everyone else was occupied gawking at the visiting king and his mount, I turned my muzzle the other way to take a glance at Zagrif. Trust me when I tell you, I have never seen the ruler of Equenefis make the kind of face he was wearing then. Eyes wide and burning with admiration, barely blinking. A pleased, yet foreboding smile drawn onto his muzzle, which was pushed as far out as he could without appearing as if he was leaning towards the guests. King Zagrif was eating the sight of the tiny wolf more than anyone else in the court. It’s the first time I’ve seen a herbivore flash the eyes of a predator. He was thrilled. And while all of it was subtle, a keen stallion such as myself was able to notice it on the visage of our king. And as soon as I saw it, I knew how to win him over.” “...And how is that exactly?” Kyron asked, tilting his head while the big stallion cast a condescending, slightly annoyed look at him. “By getting myself a canine mount just like King Veran’s, of course!” A few seconds passed, and Therak’s boldly spoken words faded from the chamber. Kyron twitched his ears and breathed out and in. And then the realization hit him like a thousand-page tome dropping from the top shelf at the very center of his furry head. His stomach sank, and his tail drooped between his legs. “Y-you c-can’t possibly t-think of-” “Oh yes, I am, dear Kyron! The plan is very simple. We will attend the official welcoming dinner with you as my canine mount.” Tharek snorted, appearing very proud of his idea. Kyron subconsciously flattened his ears, imagining the hefty stallion sitting on his back. “Just imagine it! My noble form, hoisted above those of other stallions and mares in attendance, basking in the attention and admiration of both of the two monarchs seated at the head table. All eyes would be on me as I ride you across the room… Do you think the King would ask me to take a seat just from that kind of entrance alone?” Kyron swallowed, feeling both hot and cold shivers coursing underneath his coat. One didn’t have to possess much intelligence to see the vast gap between his and the adult stallion’s anatomy. There was no way in the five infernos that he would be able to carry Tharek. Just the noble stallion's rump was enough to almost completely cover him if the brown equine were to sit on him sideways. Only the very tip of his nose and tail would be left peeking out from under all that equine rear meat. The delicate wolf knew he had to try and weasel out of this. Even if he also knew that his arrogant master’s mind was not easily convinced by mere mortals. “Oh, perhaps I could even start a trend amongst the nobility with my grand arrival… Ahh~ How wonderful would it be to look down at others along my long muzzle if they began to mimic my idea and get themselves canine mounts. I would never let any of them live it down.” Tharek continued to fantasize about the upcoming dinner. “Uhh~ I-I’m sorry, Sir Hothfred b-but I don’t think I’m capable of carrying you. It is… Impossible.” Kyron cleared his throat, trying to sound as confident and convincing as possible, despite already expecting the worst. “Nonsense! You will do just fine… Now that I look at you… You seem very similar to the kind of wolf King Veran was riding. You wouldn’t happen to have any distant family in Sanvall? Nevermind. But if that little thing could carry a lion that big all the way here from their home kingdom, you can handle me sitting on top of you for the duration of one dinner. Besides, the dinner is not for a few hours. You have plenty of time to get accustomed to the weight of my noble hindquarters. In fact, I suggest we get started with it immediately!” Tharek whinnied. Kyron grimaced and hunched up his withers. “B-but, sire… You a-are much heavier than a lion. I’m not sure I could even keep myself standing if you were to sit on top of me. Not to mention, I have never carried anything aside from a bundle of books on my back. I just don’t have the strength to hold up someone of your… Proportions.” Kyron attempted to argue, knowing full well that his arguments would fall on deaf ears, which they did if Tharek’s expression was anything to judge by. “...How unfortunate. Here I thought my loyal scribe would be able to help me…” The stallion spoke, frowning with exaggerated disappointment. “At first, I hoped to remain as my noble, dignified self and not leverage my position for this, but… I’m afraid I have to remind you that you are only in your current position thanks to my family’s grace. I must say that you’ve been awfully valuable to the Hothfreds as a scribe, but… Your insubordination in this matter might just force my hooves to dismiss you.” Kyron whined. This was exactly what he had been afraid of. The blue-blooded stallion knew he couldn’t afford to lose his job as the Baron’s scribe, which made him an easy target for coercion. The dark wolf eventually walked out from behind his desk, hanging his head in defeat. Tharek snorted triumphantly. “I knew you to be a reasonable canine. Now, why don’t you stand here while I lower my rump onto you? Just to let me get a proper feel of how to sit on you right. Come on now!” The stallion huffed, tapping the floor with his forehooves. Kyron reluctantly wandered over while his master executed a half-rotation, presenting the small canine with his bulging buttocks. Kyron swallowed as he looked up at the two mounds of equine muscle and the dark tail resting in between them. Merely looking at them made him feel smaller than he knew his body to be. ‘Heavy’ was the first adjective that came to his mind to describe the wide stallion dumper dangerously looming over him. The vast shadow it cast onto his body didn’t exactly work to boost his confidence either. This would not end well. Kyron could already picture himself flattened against the floorboards under his master’s rump. And yet, there was nothing he could do to prevent that fate. “Alright! I’m sitting down now! Be prepared to receive me!” Tharek whinnied. “You should consider this an honor! You are the first one to enjoy being sat on by my noble buttocks!” Seeing the massive horse posterior getting lowered towards him, Kyron quickly ducked his head and tensed up his body. But just as he had expected, it was in vain. There was nothing a wolf of his size could have done to endure the kind of squashing given to him by the noble stallion. The hefty horse ass landed on Kyron’s upper back like a pair of boulders, completely crushing any kind of resistance the small wolf could have put up against them. Tharek didn’t make a single sliver of an effort to ease himself on top of Kyron or dampen his landing in any way. He simply allowed his rear end to drop with gravity, sending the wobbly mass of his equine haunches to thump down on the smaller animal without mercy. The impact was as discourteous as it was uncomfortable. Kyron’s limbs gave in immediately as the nearly one-thousand-pound mass of an adult stallion pressed him down. His legs folded, and his paws slipped on the planks as his body took the temporary form of a canine rug, freshly stamped into the floor by a giant horse behind. He was utterly and absolutely flattened, barely able to breathe with how tightly the stallion’s weight compressed his furry chest against the floor. A powerful flood of adrenaline forced him to squirm and struggle for a few panic-filled seconds, but the overwhelming mass weighing him down reigned superior despite his best efforts. It was a total defeat. “Oh… How unfortunate. I had truly hoped that you would be able to handle me. Alas, the fault must be mine… My expectations must have been unrealistic.” Kyron wholeheartedly agreed from underneath Tharek’s massive ass. “Are you able to get up?” The stallion asked, craning his neck down to look at the canine muzzle peeking out from underneath his groin. Kyron fervently shook his head, struggling to breathe. “Are you certain? I’m not that big of a stallion, am I?” Kyron whimpered as Tharek leaned his body from side to side, wiggling his heavy rump against the floor ever so slightly. The wolf could feel the vertebrae in his spine moaning in displeasure as the equine’s weight shifted around uncomfortably right below his shoulder blades. “Alright then…” Kyron inhaled with the entire capacity of his lungs as the heavy stallion behind was lifted from his back. He coughed and groaned as his body immediately consumed all the oxygen he was able to derive from the first few breaths, only able to restore his normal breathing rhythm after a while. His back was still aching when he eventually got back onto his feet. “I… Told you… Sire… I can’t carry you.” Kyron huffed, shaking each of his legs, which had gotten sore from just a split second of holding up Tharek’s weight. “Oh, stop being dramatic, Kyron! It’s perfectly normal for commoners not to excel at everything on their first try. We’ll just have to try again, that is all.” The Holsteiner snorted, glancing at the panting wolf from between his legs. Kyron shuddered, looking up at the mountainous buttocks that somehow appeared even more gargantuan than they had been earlier. Was there really no way for him to get out of this? “T-then uhh~ C-could at least be more gentle when you lower your hindquarters?” He asked nervously. “W-wouldn’t it be more befitting of a noble etiquette?” “Hmmm… You might be correct about that. Very well! We shall try again, and this time I’ll try to be more careful with the placement of my posterior! Are you ready?” “...Yes,” Kyron replied, even though he wasn’t. There was simply no getting ready for the task that he was forced to take on. The wolf drew breath and glanced upward, watching how the hefty horse ass took over more and more of his view. The slow descent of the big, brown mounds spawned feelings of dread and uncertainty within his chest. He quickly turned his face forward and hastily sought what he figured would be the optimal positioning for his feet. The planks beneath Kyron’s paws creaked, and a pained whimper fled the wolf’s muzzle when the heavy stallion rump settled on his back. Kyron could feel his spine bending to an uncomfortable degree as it was pressed down by the burdensome equine taint, the immense weight of which radiated onto his shoulders, haunches, and further down into his legs. The muscles on his back voiced their discontent with multiple spasms. His furry legs trembled like they were about to snap. And yet, Kyron managed to remain standing. At least for a short while. All it took for the small wolf to collapse again was for Tharek to tilt his rump slightly off center from his spine, which placed too much of the ungodly load onto the right side of Kyron’s body. Kyron managed to whimper before his legs gave in and his master’s full weight smashed him against the chamber floor with as little grace as possible. In the split second before the horse rear somewhat bounced up from its collision with the floor, when his body was at its most compressed, Kyron could have sworn he heard his ribs creaking or spine cracking. However, it appeared that the second spike of adrenaline spared him from any serious injuries. “There we go! You nearly had it! But I think you can still do better!” Tharek whinnied, rocking his behind back and forth on top of Kyron, whose instincts once again forced him to try and struggle, albeit in vain. “Get up! We’ll try again!” It took Kyron a decent amount of time and effort to pry himself off the floor and back onto his four feet again. Both of his forepaws were numb and tingling as the sensation of touch slowly returned to them. His back felt somehow crooked, and he struggled to fill his lungs to their full capacity. It felt like he had just run a full lap around the castle and taken a bad fall towards the end. He was exhausted and sore all over. “Ready? Here I come!” An overwhelming sense of panic took over Kyron as he heard Tharek’s words. Having even less time to prepare than before, he adopted as good a stance as he could manage in the short time prior to the tremendous horse rear cascading on top of him once more. Surprisingly enough, the small, pre-emptive burst of panic ended up working in the small wolf’s favor. Even though his back creaked, his legs shook, and his muscles spasmed, Kyron managed to remain standing when the bigger animal placed his weight on top of him. He barked and injected as much strength as he could into his limbs to keep his figure from collapsing, taking rapid, strained breaths underneath his equine master. His spine was arching dangerously low, but he managed to maintain it at a spot where the pressure from Tharek’s butt caused him the least discomfort, allowing the majority of the mass to slide closer to his hindquarters. It was tough, but he was managing. “Ha-haa~ I knew I could rally you to improve!” Tharek whinnied, slapping his tail against Kyron’s behind. “Now simply try and maintain this for as long as you can. The dinner will most likely last for a couple of hours, so I need you to be at your best endurance.” The horse mentioning the length of the feast nearly toppled Kyron, who was already feeling like giving up after acting as his master’s seat for less than a minute. His legs were already starting to lock, and the disturbances in circulation began to make him dizzy. And to make matters even worse, Tharek was starting to move about yet again. “I must say… Sitting like this feels quite nice… I can see why that lion would want to travel like this. Although keeping my balance is a bit difficult. I imagine that’s easier for felines who are more agile by nature.” As he spoke, the stallion wobbled his rump from side to side, pushing the struggling canine beneath him lower and lower towards the floor. Kyron fought against the rocking of the equine ass with all he had, bending his body to counter the rapid shifts of his master’s mass through immense effort. He drew breath through gritted teeth, ignoring the fierce throbbing in his limbs, which were a few rump wiggles away from giving in under the monstrous weight of the holsteiner stallion. Eventually, Tharek stopped gyrating his rump, granting Kyron a brief moment of respite – if one could even call it that. The dark wolf opened his mouth and panted, feeling how the mass placed on him deformed his spine as it rested on his back. He could only hope the deformation wasn’t permanent. Almost every other second, Kyron thought about simply giving up, but the fear of being flattened underneath Tharek’s rear again motivated him to endure the rapidly mounting discomfort. “Hmm… Seems like you’re getting the hang of it.” Tharek muttered. “Why don’t we try walking next?” Kyron felt like the weight on top of him had suddenly doubled. He was just barely managing as things were, teetering on the narrow tightrope that was carrying a fully grown horse on his back, constantly leaning further and further towards slipping into the abyss of being squashed beneath a thousand pounds of equine meat. And now the arrogant stallion wanted him to walk? As the physical exhaustion began seeping into his psyche, Kyron failed to see any conceivable way out of obeying Tharek’s orders. “Giddy up!” The big Holsteiner whinnied, nudging himself forwards on Kyron’s back. The small wolf whimpered and forced his paws to move. And as soon as he lifted one paw off the ground, he collapsed. Quite spectacularly so. For a moment, everything went black. And the next, Kyron found himself sandwiched between the hard cedar planks and fat stallion cheeks. His vision was completely blocked by the Therak’s equally fat testes, which had dropped on top of his muzzle when he fell. “Oh no, that won’t do. That won’t do at all!” Kyron was too exhausted to even gasp when Tharek stood up and huffed with frustration. His entire body felt sluggish and sore. He barely had the energy to raise his head, let alone stand. “My expectations were low, but I figured you would have at least been able to walk to the door. Ahh~ The burden of the master is to be disappointed by his servant. Get up! I need you to try harder!” Kyron heavily considered the option of pretending he had passed out in order to get out of his heavy predicament. But once again, he was afraid that the stallion would retaliate by sitting on him. The mental image of it alone was enough to make him move his feet. “B-but, sire… Y-you need to let me… Gather my strength for… A while.” Kyron huffed, still too weary to lift his head from the chamber floor. “If I try to carry you again, I will faint.” “Hmph~! Very well! Be grateful that your master is this lenient. For your break, you can fetch me some wine from the cellar. All this training is making me thirsty… And make sure not to dawdle!” “Y-yes… S-sir Hothfred…” Kyron groaned, slowly crawling his way towards the doorway. … After the brief trip to the manor’s pantry, Kyron returned to the chamber with a bottle of his master’s favored alcoholic beverage. The small jaunt around the manor had done little to restore his dwindled strength, as he had had to go up and down many flights of stairs on his way to the pantry and back. And knowing of the temper of the stallion waiting for him, he had done his best not to delay in excess. Still, the brief errand had been infinitely more pleasant and less burdening than what awaited him back in the remote scribe’s chamber. The subsequent hour passed with Tharek gradually consuming his wine in between the small breaks that he took from tormenting the canine scribe with his butt. The pecan-coated equine used Kyron as his seat dozens of times, testing the smaller creature’s endurance to its absolute limits more than once during those instances. Kyron’s paws gradually grew numb from the stress both his mind and body endured underneath the cavalier horse. His spine and shoulders were aching almost constantly, trying to recover from the unnatural weight that had been placed on them time and time again. Kyron’s chest and chin throbbed from the many impacts they had experienced with the floor as he had constantly fallen down for one reason or another and gotten himself leveled by Therak’s monstrous rear end. The only minor silver lining in the ‘training’ ordeal was the fact that Therak was a happy drunk. The more he drank, the less concerned he was if Kyron’s knees buckled or if his paw slipped when he was trying to carry him on his back. But simultaneously, his inebriation made him a lot more volatile from an inadequately small mount’s perspective. Once the stallion began to get dizzy from his alcohol consumption, he started to sway and wobble to an entirely new degree on top of Kyron, making the wolf’s already impossible task that much more difficult. And Kyron was forced to only whimper and withstand it. Although Kyron did show some improvement in his ability to remain standing with an entire stallion’s weight resting on his spine, walking with Therak on his back was something he simply could not get the hang of. Even after multiple attempts, he could only ever manage to walk a couple of feet before his legs spasmed in protest and gave in. It was simply too difficult to carry that kind of load while actively maintaining one’s balance in the midst of walking. Perhaps Kyron could have managed it earlier when he still had most of his strength left. But now, with his body already drained from all the master-servant horseplay, it was impossible. Fortunately enough, Therak had deemed Kyron’s effort and the training results acceptable for the time being. There was still more than a full hour for King Veran’s welcoming feast, and the stallion wanted Kyron to conserve his strength until then. This hiatus was allowed to the wolf with the expectation that he would be at his best stallion-carrying capacity during the feast. When Therak eventually left the chamber, Kyron had collapsed onto the floor, utterly exhausted and with his muscles aching from fatigue. He could only dread the dinner that lay ahead of him. ... “Baron Therak of the Hothfred house!” An elderly equine herald announced with his hoarse, yet powerful voice, stepping away from the doorway as the dark-maned Holsteiner entered the dining hall. All eyes within the vast chamber were promptly directed at the arrival stallion. However, instead of the usual, brief glance bestowed upon most guests in attendance, the equine noble received looks of an entirely different caliber. The gazes shot his way lingered, almost to the point of excess, observing his entry with overflowing curiosity and astonishment. His arrival was accompanied by gasps and whispers, not limited to those of servants and guards, or even the high-ranking nobles seated around the tables in the chamber. Even the onyx stallion at the head table and the guest of honor next to him latched their eyes onto the Holsteiner stallion as he slowly, yet gracefully, wobbled inside the bustling hall. Therak played oblivious to the attention he was being showered with, holding his head high and making no gesture to recognize those who were looking at him. The Baron happily basked in the stares from his peers and everybody else, not in the slightest minding why and how he had obtained his place in the spotlight. Although he barely let it show, he was most certainly ecstatic. That was what Kyron thought, at least, as he slowly toiled away in between the red carpet and his master’s voluminous behind, walking with stiff, aching legs as he tried his hardest to support the heavy stallion riding him. The canine scribe had only walked an odd twelve feet from the entrance, and he was already exhausted, feeling the fatigue from his training getting new agony stacked on top of it with every step he managed to take. His body was hot and sweating before he had even made it halfway dining room floor, and his paws were screaming at him to stop at ever-increasing intensity. His furry back was arched like a strung bow, making his abdomen droop frighteningly low towards the castle floor as he waddled forth, maintaining the sensitive equilibrium which, if shattered, would cause him to tumble. But he couldn’t fall. Not now. Otherwise, he would fly out of the Hothfred house with Therak’s personal hoofprint on his rump. He had to endure. Just a few more feet. Only a few more feet. That was all that went through his head as he carried the husky stallion forward, shaking and panting like he was in the grips of a fever. “Greetings, King Zagrif! Honorable guest, King Veran of Sanvall.” Therak spoke from deep within his chest when Kyron eventually stopped, a courteous seven feet away from the head table where the two monarchs were seated. “Therak Hothfred, at your service.” “May I wish you the warmest of welcomes to our fair kingdom, from the current head of the Hothfred house. I would also like to offer the greatest regards to my King for organizing this stunning feast showcasing Equenefian hospitality at its finest. Praise be to Equenefis! Praise be to Sanvall!” Therak bowed his head low, forcing Kyron to counter the shift in balance by pushing up with his forelegs with all his might. He trembled and groaned, but managed to keep his knees from buckling. “How very delightful. I was not aware there was another fancier of canine carriers amongst your nobility.” Veran was the first one to speak up, curiously tilting his muzzle towards the dark stallion, whose amber eyes were very keenly observing Kyron’s struggle below Therak. “Ah… I must admit I am as surprised as you are.” The dark equine eventually cleared his throat, meeting Veran’s gaze before glancing at Therak. “And I thank you for your kind words, Braon Hothfred. It appears that you’re elegant even beyond your way of getting around. Yes… It is indeed quite delightful to see a stallion aware of the subtle attraction of seating themselves on others. Might I inquire for how long you have been engaging in this activity?” “Oh, I have been seating myself like this for a while.” Therak lied with the most innocent of voices. “But as you know, I am a very private, very humble stallion, and I usually prefer not to flaunt myself in public. Therefore, you may not have seen me on wolfback before. But, since we had such a prestigious visitor with an undeniable taste for how he gets around, I thought I would prop myself up a bit for the sake of courtesy.” Kyron didn’t know what caused him more discomfort. Being sat on, or being forced to listen to the self-indulgent, lie-riddled speech of his master. “How very admirable of you.” Veran purred in a low voice. “It is rather rare to see an animal of your size using a carrier. Can I ask why you felt the need, the urge to use one?” “Of course… Even though I acknowledge that my fellow equines and I are not the kind of creatures who would necessarily require the assistance of a carrier, I simply do not see why we should fully refrain from using them. Being carried is telling of one’s dignity and stature. You must understand this as someone of royal blood. Why shouldn’t an honorable equine carry themselves with the kind of means that best highlight their status?” “...Why indeed?” Zagrif smiled, glancing down at Kyron with a sadistic gleam in his eyes. “It is certainly difficult not to appreciate a stallion who knows how to carry themselves with such style…” “Duke Wyersmane! Would you mind relinquishing your seat for the young Baron? I would very much appreciate it if he joined me at the head table… Since he’s obviously a stallion of stature.” The elder, white stallion seated right of the king appeared flummoxed for a short while, shooting a hostile gaze at Therak before eventually bowing his head and backing away. “Of course, your highness.” “Please have a seat, Baron.” Zagrif snorted, making a small gesture with his head. “Thank you, your grace.” Therak smiled, promptly nudging Kyron with his hips, telling the wolf to move. Kyron whimpered and moved his paws despite the vocal protest from his canine skeleton and the muscles it was wrapped in. Fighting his exhaustion tooth and nail, Kyron crawled forward. His back felt like it could snap at any given moment, and the joints in his canine legs screamed in agony as he slowly but steadily rounded the table, making his way towards the spot reserved for Therak next to the king. The only thing that was even somewhat able to motivate him to continue walking was the faint promise of a partial respite when he would reach his goal. Just a few more steps. A few more grueling, agonizing, muscle-ache-filled steps. By the time Kyron managed to park himself next to the royal stallion with onyx fur, he was feeling dizzy and almost nauseous from exhaustion. He felt like he could not even draw his breath properly. “Oh! I had no idea his highness was also seated this way.” Therak’s words sounded dull and distant as Kyron sluggishly drooped his head underneath the table. “Yes… King Veran was kind enough to let me borrow his carrier for the duration of the feast.” “Might I say, sitting that way suits you very much.” “Undoubtedly. It’s as you said. A stallion of stature deserves to be seated in the manner most befitting. And this is certainly the kind of seat stallions like us deserve.” Both stallions whinnied. Kyron twitched his ears, doing his best to ignore the spasms in his limbs as he slowly processed the contents of the two equines’ conversation. He then slowly raised his head and glanced to his left. He saw a wolf. His fur was dark, and his physique resembled Kyron’s own greatly. Slender limbs, hunched withers, and an awfully arched back, the latter of which was amplified by the fact that the stallion King was sitting on the canine’s spine. The wolf’s teeth were grit, and his muzzle was painted with the same expression of dismay and suffering as Kyron reckoned his muzzle was. The wolf glanced back at Kyron, whimpering quietly as if to greet the wolf who shared his cruel fate. Kyron could see the other wolf’s legs shaking, only able to imagine what kind of abuse his body had endured with the feline king. Not to mention the kind of stress he was currently under, as Kyron was pretty sure King Zagrif weighed even more than his master did. “I’m…. K-Kyron. W-what’s… Your… Name?” Kyron spoke, mostly through his teeth, hoping to distract himself from the agony of holding up a thousand pounds of equine ass. The other wolf groaned, and saliva dripped down from his wide-open mouth. It took him a few seconds to answer. “R-Recki!” Both wolves panted, forced to pause their conversation at the very start as they each gathered their strength for almost a full minute after introducing themselves. The two stallion rumps on top of them wobbled and lurched as their equine owners feasted. “Did you… R-really… Carry your king… All the way… From Sanvall?” Kyron groaned, hearing some rather unflattering cracks from his lower back where Therak’s bulky buttocks abruptly slipped. Recki took almost half a minute to answer. “Yes… I did.” He spoke with a hoarse voice. “But it… Was nothing… Like this. This is… A whole… Different kind… Of heavy.” Kyron was simultaneously able and unable to imagine the difference of carrying a grown lion for multiple miles, versus being sat on by an animal that weighed almost thrice as much. Still looking at Recki made the scribe feel a tingle of worry in the back of his head, as it didn’t look like the other wolf, who supposedly had more experience carrying other animals, was having any easier time than Kyron did. One could see from his body that the other wolf was by no means a carrier, but Kyron had assumed that walking the nearly week-long journey from the neighboring kingdom would have somewhat raised Recki’s endurance. Focusing too much on his fellow canine victim of a heavy fate, Kyron accidentally allowed his forepaws to slip, and gravity was quick to take advantage. The wolf whimpered and dropped down closer to the stone floor, starting to truly feel the immense compression on his joints. He struggled against the overwhelming burden with dwindling strength, unable to lift himself up a single inch, but still able to keep himself from fully collapsing. Although that event was not too far from occurring. His paws were throbbing in pain, flattened against the dining hall floor as the numbness in them slowly began morphing into a bitter burn of over-exertion; a sensation which quickly crawled up his legs as the seconds passed. “C-Can you tell me… I-if doing this g-” Kyron was interrupted as Therak decided to move about on his back, pushing the wolf even closer to the floor as he did. “Oh yes! I wholeheartedly agree!” The stallion whinnied, replying to something King Veran had commented earlier. “C-can you tell me… I-if doing this g-gets… A-any… Easier… With time?” Kyron huffed, only barely holding his elbows from pressing against the tiling underneath. The heavily breathing Recki cast a defeated, tired look in Kyron’s direction, telling the other canine what he hadn’t hoped to hear even before he verbally delivered his answer. “N-not that I… Can say… P-perhaps if one had… Adequate time… To recover. B-but not for me… At least.” The despair was quick to sink in for the coal-coated canine as he saw his future self reflected in the wolf next to him. Was that really what his life would be like? Would he be forced to carry his vain, arrogant, and heavy stallion master like this every day? And it wouldn’t get better, maybe ever? The thought of it made Kyron sink even lower towards the floor, the bottom of his abdomen already scraping the tiles as the pecan stallion continued to bend his spine into its current, utterly unnatural shape. The small wolf was starting to shake from fatigue. Breathing was gradually getting harder and harder. As much as he had previously rejected it, the idea of giving up began creeping into Kyron’s thoughts. Each second spent under the merciless burden of his master made the thought of voluntary capitulation seem more and more appealing. It quickly got to the point where being kicked out of Hothfred’s service felt like the less miserable option compared to enduring being sat on any longer. He was bound to collapse sooner or later anyway, and there was no chance he would last even one quarter of the intended length of the welcoming feast. Not at his current strength. Besides, should he falter now, in the presence of the king, Therak might see him unfit for the task and choose to torment some other of his many servants. The more the wolf thought about it, the more it all began to make sense to him. His crooked spine and stiffened limbs were ushering him towards giving up, even if it meant getting squashed underneath the hefty Holsteiner’s gargantuan rump. Stubbornly teetering at the very limits of his physique, Kyron sustained his awkward standing position for a short while longer. And then he finally caved. There was a split second when everything around the wolf scribe felt light and pleasant. The burden disappeared from his spine and shoulders. His joints, bones, and muscles relaxed, and his spine was allowed to straighten. A powerful sensation of euphoria rushed into Kyron’s head, momentarily warming up his entire body. He felt at ease. A sensation he had nearly forgotten in the past few hours of agony. And then the heavy, horse-ass-shaped reality slammed down on top of him. There was a semi-audible thump as Kyron was flattened underneath Therak’s Holsteiner haunches, getting pressed into a furry pancake between the floor and the brown stallion’s magnificent rump. Therak nudged downward a couple of inches, but only the two kings closest to him seemed to notice. Kyron whimpered and painstakingly drew in air through his nostrils, trying his hardest to fill up his awfully compressed lungs in the herculean squeeze of the equine behind. And as he did, he could hear the two horses talking. “How embarrassing… My apologies, Your Highness. I… Have yet to train him as thoroughly as I would like. You know how difficult it is for commoners to take heed of the teachings of those above them.” Kyron groaned as Therak dragged his rump from side to side, most likely as a form of retaliation for his failure to remain standing. But he was too tired to care and accepted the dragging with a soft whimper. “Oh, it is perfectly understandable, Baron. It usually falls on us to correctly align our expectations with the true capabilities of our subordinates. I’m certain that your seat did the best he could. You mustn’t blame him for the weakness of his body, for it is ultimately your responsibility to train it, as I am sure you already have.” “What wise words from my king!” Therak whinnied. “Wise words indeed! I’ll make sure to do better in the future and train him harder.” “I wish you luck in your training endeavors, even if I believe stallions like yourself won’t face many hardships in the process. After all, from what I’ve heard, the training is the most enjoyable part of owning this kind of seat.” The black stallion’s menacing words echoed into Kyron’s ears from above the table. As much as he wanted to feel dread because of them, he was too tired to even do that. All he could think about and feel was the staggering, skeleton-crushing, lung-emptying amount of horse that weighed him down. In that moment, he wondered if Therak would ever get up, or if he would be trapped underneath his enormous behind for all of eternity.