FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

A massive form clipped Cress’ shoulder, nearly sending the petite meerkat to the ground as he desperately tried to rebalance.

“Sorry,” a deep voice says, not at all sounding apologetic, “didn’t see you there, little guy.”

Cress scowls, one ear flicking in irritation, finally righting himself as he readjusted the bag he had slung over one shoulder. “It’s fine,” he grits out, before shuffling off to the side.

A hand, capped with small, black hooves and nearly large enough to cover Cress’ entire muzzle, reaches out to pat the meerkat patronizingly on the head. “Keep working hard, kid,” the massive bay horse rumbles, “you’ll finish growing one day.”

As the dark furred form of Arven shoulders through the door, ignoring Cress’ almost violent expression, a bull shuffles through. He’s nearly as large as the horse, but has his shoulders hunched apologetically with a hand on his neck. “I’m sorry about him, man,” the sandy-furred bull says quietly as Arven turns the corner ahead. “I’ll try talking to him again.”

Cress huffs in irritation. “It hasn’t helped anything yet. Thanks for trying.”

The bull’s expression morphs into a sad smile. “Don’t let him stop you, you’re making great progress!”

The smaller meerkat manages to crack a smile. “I’d be a sad excuse for an employee if I didn’t even know how the equipment works, Galangal.”

A large hand lands on Cress’ shoulder, giving him a companionable pat. “You don’t have to know how to work out to run reception, bro. Give yourself some credit. Have a safe trip home, yeah?”

“Thanks. Good luck with your workout.”

“Hell yeah, dude! It’s core day.” With another pat and an enthusiastic thumbs up, Galangal vanishes around the corner after Arven. As soon as the bull’s sandy fur is out of sight, Cress deflates.

He really doesn’t understand what the horse’s problem is. There was only so many times he could nearly run Cress over and have it be ‘accidental’ – even with the difference in their sizes, Cress hadn’t seen Arven behave like that with anyone else. He let out a huff, before exiting the gym’s door.

It was tucked behind other buildings, a small corridor that Arven had used as an excuse multiple times to knock the meerkat to the ground. The gig at the small, locally owned gym was great, with good pay and hours flexible enough to accommodate anything Cress had come up but this was getting ridiculous.

He’d tried complaining to the manager about Arven’s behavior, but a string of accidents from a regular left very little to do.

Trudging out to his old hybrid, Cress climbed in and buckled up. It would be hard not to stew over this on his way home, but he’d been getting lots of practice.

-

Once home, Cress ate a dinner of hastily assembled spaghetti, absent-mindedly scrolling through Etsy on his phone. He rarely bought anything, the meerkat preferring to save his money for other things, but sometimes something would catch his eye.

Writing most of it off as drop-shipped garbage, his thumb paused above a listing. “GRAND OPENING SPECIAL LIMITED TIME – Attitude Adjustment - $5”. The associated image was of a black velvet cloth spread over a table, lit candles with beads of wax running down their sides, and a sprig of a couple different unfamiliar plants decorating the cover of an old looking book. Poorly edited over the empty space in a garish, curly font in bright red was the words “ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT CUSTOM SPELL limited time deal only $5 POWERFUL AND FAST RESULTS”.

Cress considers it a moment before clicking. What the hell? It’s worth a shot.

“Have someone making your life difficult? Are they in need of a different attitude? For a small payment, I will complete a ritual on your behalf that will summon a helpful spirit to permit them to see a new side of you they can appreciate.”

“Same day casting” the listing boasted “effective results visible within a week of the ritual. Photo proof of casting. No items shipped with purchase, digital file only.”

The meerkat stares at it for a moment longer. He didn’t believe in witchcraft or magic, not really, but something about the idea was appealing. The fantasy of it, perhaps? He bit a bottom lip. It was guaranteed to be a waste of $5, but it wasn’t that much money.

Cress lingers over the ‘add to cart’ option. Even if it didn’t do anything, the hope that whatever problem Arven had with him getting magically fixed was appealing.

“Fuck it,” he announces to his otherwise empty kitchen, setting his spaghetti-wrapped fork down with a soft clank, “I’m gonna get an Etsy witch.”

Mind made up, he taps on the button.

“Error!” the screen reads “Personalization required.”

He heaves a sigh, dropping his head into his free hand. He scrolls back up slightly, looking at the text box.

“Please list the name of your desired target!” proclaims the label above it, followed by an emoji of a glittering crystal ball.

Cress hesitates, but just for a moment. He had to give his billing and shipping information anyways. What was the harm?

He tapped on the little box, quickly typing in the subject of his desired ritual. “arven from the gym” read the input. Hopefully that would be enough. With another tap, the ritual request had been added to his cart. Moments later, he was staring at the confirmation of a successful order.

-

Cress lingers at the door to the gym, weight shifting uncertainly. He was due for a shift in just a few minutes, and the “attitude adjustment” ritual was lingering in his mind. It wasn’t something he felt guilty about, not really, but it did leave him feeling apprehensive about potentially seeing Arven.

His phone had dinged with a new email just that morning with a message from the witch – a confirmation of ritual completion with the remnants of some ashes in a small dish on the velvet cloth from the picture. Cress had no idea what witchy rituals consisted of, but this whole thing felt… too easy.

It was totally a scam.

Heaving a sigh, the meerkat shoved open the door and began to trek down the awkwardly long hall to gym reception. On auto-pilot, he clocks in before settling down for the first portion of his shift.

Hours later, as Cress is wiping down a bench, heavy hoof beats have him turning around. Standing uncomfortably close, near enough for Cress to feel the heat radiating from his tree-trunk legs, is the form of Arven. The horse peers down at the petite meerkat, and blows a puff of air through his nostrils.

A thick hand almost scruffs the mongoose, hooved fingers hooking into the back of Cress’ shirt and dragging him away from the weights. “Hey!” he manages to sputter, squirming against the hold, “what are you doing?!”

Arven’s head turns, and the big lug stares at him. The knowing glint in his eyes send a shock of cold through Cress’ body.

Did he know?

There was no way. It was impossible for the draft horse to know about a stupid Etsy scam he’d fallen prey to.

“Hey!” he shouts again, even as he fights to get his legs underneath him in an attempt to look like he might be walking.

“You and I need to talk, little man.”

“Did Galangal say something? I promise, whatever it is, it’s totally fine, and-” Cress snaps his jaws shut as a low, rumbling sound of displeasure as Arven opens the door to a rarely-used classroom. Once, there’d been bi-weekly yoga sessions back here, but once the teacher had moved away they hadn’t found a replacement.

Cress is half-thrown into the room, the meerkat stumbling as he works to keep his feet underneath himself. Once rebalanced, he spins around. “What the hell is your problem?” he spits, only for something strange to happen.

The glint in Arven’s eye vanishes, and something about his body language changes. His smile is less of a sneer, suddenly more welcoming, and he tucks into himself so that he no longer looms over the much smaller meerkat.

“What’s your beef with this guy, anyway?” Cress’ begrudging look is instantly replaced with one of wide-eyed surprise. One of Arven’s ears flick absent-mindedly. “He doesn’t seem like the nicest guy, sure, but nothing that really calls for supernatural intervention.”

“What.” Cress manages, voice suddenly hoarse.

Arven’s face contorts into a more familiar expression. One that calls Cress an idiot without the need for any words.

“What.” The word is tinged with defensiveness this time, as much as it is with disbelief.

A dry chuckle makes it way from Arven’s massive chest. “You got me summoned, and you’re not even a believer.” He shakes his head, long mane following the gesture. “I’m here to help you make some, ah, modifications. But first – what’s your problem, anyway?”

Cress swallows, gaze suddenly looking at anything that’s not whatever spirit has a hold on Arven at the moment, ears flattening as his face warms in embarrassment. “He just seems to hate me for no reason,” he mutters, “and tries to knock me over, since I’m so much smaller. Whenever I complain, he claims it’s an accident and the owner isn’t willing to drive off one of his best customers because of accidents.”

The spirit behind Arven’s eyes forces them to blink, considering for a moment before nodding. “That’s fair enough. Here’s the rules – this guy,” a large hand gestures at Arven’s chest, “isn’t going to remember being worked like a meat puppet. Everything he remembers will seem like it was his idea. Pretend like I’m not here, and act like whatever you want your new dynamic to be.”

Cress’ eyes grow wider with each word. “He won’t remember?”

An easy grin. “Nope.” With that, whatever entity was piloting the horse’s body reached one massive hand into his gym shorts, slowly stroking the growing bulge beneath the fabric.

Cress sputters, quickly everting his eyes as he felt his cheeks flush beneath his fur. “What are you doing?” He squeaks, arms rising as if to block the sight even as his eyes darted in quick glances.

“Well, it’s hot, isn’t it?” comes the slow drawl, a nearly predatory smile growing across the borrowed muzzle, “here I am, ready to make this hunk do your bidding.” His free hand gestures at Cress’ own pants. “You really want me to believe you’re not going to get off on this either?”

“Not – not here.”

An eyebrow creeps slowly upwards in mock surprise.

Cress’ cheeks grew uncomfortably warm as they forced their eyes away from the still-growing bulge. “Later,” comes the confession, nearly a whisper.

The sound starts as a low, resonating rumble deep within the Arven’s wide barrel of a chest. “Good boy,” the approval is seemingly sincere, even as Cress reels from it. “What’s it going to be?”

Cress blinks, scrambling to gather his thoughts. “What?”

“What do you want to do to him?” The question comes with a slow, lazy flex of a bicep. Cress’ eyes track the movement involuntarily, watching the way the muscle swells with the movement. It’s massive, matching the rest of the bulky draft horse’s form.

Cress swallows, his tongue suddenly feeling oversized for his mouth. “Anything?”

Assurance comes within the space of a moment as the horse withdraws the hand that had been stuffed down his pants, the palm of it glistening with a slight sheen of moisture, gesturing with both hands broadly with a smug smile. “Anything.”

The opportunity is staggering. Cress can feel himself standing on a precipice, entirely uncertain of what comes next. He tries for words, but the only thing that escapes him is a small, choked sound as his pants suddenly grow tight enough to be near painful, his mouth completely dry.

“I can turn him in a slut, a sissy bimbo for anyone to enjoy. A bottom bitch addicted to your cock. Hell, I can take his cock-” the purred words pause for a brief moment, just enough for the spirit to yank down the Arven’s gym shorts and briefs, letting the mammoth package contained within come spilling out, the equine dick still creeping out of its fat sheathe as it creeps towards a full erection, “and make it yours.”

Cress’ eyes widen at both the options and the growing slab of meat, almost thicker around than the meerkat’s wrist, dangling from between the spirit’s legs. He tries to swallow around his thick tongue as the median ring finally emerges, the mottled black cock beginning to droop beneath its own weight.

The spirit grins, leaning forward, huge muzzle bent towards Cress’ slender frame, grasping his hidden package in a thick hand - the limb alone managing to dwarf it, let alone the massive cock the horse was sporting. “I could even leave him swinging between your thighs for a bit. See how much that humbles him.”

The spirit forces his host to sway, wagging the thick horse cock in front of the mongoose’s eyes as he straightens up, towering over the petite meerkat. “You – you can really do all those things?” Cress’s voice is hoarse, and he tries to ignore how wrecked he sounds when they’ve done nothing but talk.

“What?” The spirit’s tone lightens, turning playful even through the gruff tones of the horse’s voice. “You didn’t expect such good ritual quality off Etsy?”

Cress’ eyes stay glued to the swaying shaft as it continues to thicken. “No,” he manages prying his eyes away just long enough to ogle the generous sack beneath, the full orbs nearly halfway down the equine’s massive thighs even as the gym shorts strain around the muscles, “no, I didn’t.”

The meerkat’s brows furrow, trudging a deep crevice between themselves as Cress falls silent again, eyes managing to turn the slightest touch assessing. They swallow again, watching the spirit begin to bounce Arven’s pecs, the big shelf of muscle padded with a layer of fat. “Can I- can you show me his ass?”

The smile somehow grows further, and the massive horse’s frame turns, the spirit letting the gym shorts that had been clinging around his thighs fall to the floor before stepping out of them. He bends, curving his back to push out his round, perky ass even as he lifts his tail out of the way, letting the long hairs drape across a darkly furred cheek.

Cress can’t help but notice the motion has lead to the gargantuan cock resting against one leg, the fat head of it easily passing by the draft horse’s knee – a massive pillar of dark flesh. He steps up, curious fingers drifting across the length of it before tracing across the bottom of the accompanying, and rather generous, sack below it.

“How do you even fit that in someone without killing them?” Cress asks, awe laced through his tone.

The comment tears a deep moan from the equine’s chest, and the spirit manages to push the beautiful, rounded muscle of his ass even further out. “You’re right,” he groans, a hand beginning to work his shaft, “it’s hard as hell to find someone to fuck.”

The words spark something in Cress, and he scrambles out of his quickly suffocating workout shorts. His own length, slender and tapered, is fully erect, and couldn’t even be compared to the python Arven had been hiding in his fat sheathe, even when taking into account the size difference between the two.

He reaches up, his shoulders nearly level with Arven’s round cheeks standing, brushing stray strands of tail away from the equine’s crack. This close, he can smell the sweat and musk from the bay’s workout, the scent of a man that had been working hard. Droplets of perspiration cling to dark fur between Arven’s cheeks, slowly rolling down towards his balls.

Cress traces the curve of Arven’s ass, dragging his clawed fingertips down the horse’s crack, catching lightly on the delicate skin of the donut-shaped anus. It clenches in reflex, slowly relaxing as Cress’ fingers, made to look nearly diminutive in comparison to Arven’s huge size, continues to prod it.

It’s only a moment before Cress finds himself leaning in, his muzzle gravitating between the globes of Arven’s ass before he manages to make another request, breath ghosting across skin. “Hold yourself open for me?”

Arven’s throat lets out another moan as his huge hands let go of his cock, reaching around to spread open his meaty cheeks. Without another word, Cress delves in, his nose beginning to press in the space between tail and hole, pink tongue delivering soft kitten licks to the horse’s anus. He’s salty and musky, sweat beginning to coat Cress’ fur as he twists his head for a better angle, still lapping at the small patch of bare skin surrounded by fur.

The spirit pushes back into him, and Cress takes the silent request for what it is. Applying more pressure, he slips his tongue in to Arven’s unworked ass. Despite its size its tight, obvious that it hasn’t taken anything of notable size. His insides are hot, the taste of him nearly overwhelming on Cress’ tongue. He pushes deeper, the horse’s balls knocking against the bottom of his muzzle.

Soon, Arven’s hole is slick with spit, and Cress is sliding up a finger to pull him open, angling his muzzle to let his tongue reach into the bay’s depths. He can feel the spirit gently shifting Arven’s weight on his massive hooves, the way the horse’s fingers twitch with pleasure as he’s opened up. As Cress slips a second finger in, scissoring the anus his muzzle is buried within open, working it until its soft and pliable, Arven lets out a nicker, the small tail hidden within the long hair resting against Cress’ forehead, the black fur shrouding him in darkness.

It only enhances Cress’ focus, his muzzle as soaked with his own spit as it is with Arven’s sweat and anal juices. He’s going to reek of the horse’s musk, something that will inevitably linger on his matted fur even after a shower.

Finally, he withdraws. Arven’s form chases his for a moment, trying to bury Cress’ muzzle back under his tail before the spirit stops the instinctual movement.

Cress’ tongue darts out between his lips, tasting the remnants of Arven in his fur. He swallows, eyes darting around the room.

“Kneel down?” halfway between a command and a question, Cress stares, somewhat hopefully, at what he can catch of the slick hole hiding behind Arven’s tail. As if feeling his eyes, the spirit flicks up the horse’s tail once more, presenting the meerkat with his work.

The black skin of Arven’s anus shines with spit in the overhead lights, pliant skin and relaxed muscle glistening even as the massive horse cock is visible from between the horse’s legs below. The spirit twists the horse’s head, looking over his shoulder with hooded eyes, muscular arms still holding himself open for Cress to inspect him.

“Gonna fuck me?”

The meerkat’s eyes trace the form of the draft horse again. At least twice the height of Cress, Arven’s form was generously muscles and padded with enough fat to turn his shapes soft. With his massive cock, ignored and beginning to weep pre-cum, and his slick hole exposed, he’s truly a vision.

Cress swallows, hard. “Not yet,” he manages to croak.

The horse turns around, keeping eye contact with Cress as he lowers himself to his knees. One eyebrow raises slowly, and the meerkat swallows. Gathering his courage, Cress steps forward, fondling the meaty pecs on Arven’s chest. His dark fur is soft, the definition of his muscles hidden beneath his fat. Unable to help himself, Cress’ hand guides itself to a dusky nipple, pinching the delicate hard enough to make the horse groan.

The spirit pushes the horse’s chest out further, urging Cress on. Muzzle still slick with juices, Cress wraps his mouth around one nipple, lapping at it with a flat tongue as his hand continues to work the other. Arven is beautifully reactive beneath him, cock bobbing with enough force that it almost slaps the floor beneath them, a stream of encouragement escaping his mouth alongside throaty moans.

Cress switches sides, bringing his hand up to the pec that’s already slicked with spit. He sucks the pliant skin into his mouth, biting down on the vulnerable areola with sharp canines. Arven’s muttered praise cuts out with a gasp, and he thrusts his chest towards Cress as one hooved hand drops to palm his cock.

Without thinking, Cress bats it away, rolling the horse’s nipple between his teeth until it starts to become puffy. He switches sides again, pinching and rolling the newly sensitives nipple between clawed fingers as he latches on to the side already wet with saliva. He nips at it in the same moment he pinches the other, and Arven’s body jerks in response.

Cress pulls away, admiring the heaving chest of the panting horse. A small puddle of pre is beginning to collect beneath his cock, the pillar of flesh having gained a visible flush within its patches of pink.

“Beautiful,” the word escapes from Cress without intention. Arven keens at the praise, deep voice pitched up high and needy. Cress licks his lips again, before bringing an arm up to try to dry some of the dribbled spit off his muzzle. He can feel his fur becoming matted. This was going to be so worth it, though.

After taking a moment to admire his work, Cress takes another couple of steps back. “Hands and knees,” he instructs, watching with awe as the larger horse complies without comment, eyes devouring the way Arven’s muscles flex beneath his pelt at the movement.

The meerkat bends, putting a gentle hand beneath the horse’s chin. “Head up.”

Again, easy compliance. Next comes the other thumb nudging at Arven’s lips, and the draft horse’s massive muzzle splits open without more urging. Cress takes a moment to gather himself, disbelief at what he’s doing hitting even as he admires the pretty pink of Arven’s tongue.

Finally, he rocks forward, using a hand at the base of his cock to guide himself onto the plush pillow of warm tongue. His other hand reaches to grasp at Arven’s mane as he moans, the horse easily closing around him.

The wet warmth is delicious, Arven’s mouth having more than enough space to accommodate Cress’ entire length. He lets the spirit bury the horse’s nose in his pubic fur, humping the much larger form as his breath begins to come faster.

“So good,” he pants, two hands tangled in the long mane now, “don’t even have to choke you,” Cress’ words are interrupted by a pleasured moan as Arven sucks around him, tongue curling out of his long muzzle to lap as the meerkat’s balls.

“You could take my entire package,” Cress marvels, furred balls slapping against Arven’s chin, nearly bent in half over Arven’s huge head as he thrusts, slick sounds escaping as he works the horse below him. “Sit beneath me,” he says, “keep my cock and ball warm all day without any effort.”

A new noise joins the sounds of Arven slurping on Cress’ cock, and the meerkat is quick to place it. He thrusts harder, holding back a moan as he tugs on his fistfuls of mane. “Hands off,” he commands, “you’re not allowed to touch yourself.”

The horse groans around him, hips thrusting into nothing as he resettles his hand again the cold linoleum.

The unquestioned compliance is a rush. This massive beast of a man, at least twice Cress’ own size, not allowed to even touch his ridiculously huge cock as Cress fucks his mouth. The mongoose swallows, forcing his thrusts to pause even as Arven’s suction increases, feeling the way his balls draw up and his muscles clench.

Surrendering to the inevitable, he guides Arven’s muzzle off his cock. “You got me nice as wet,” he praises, a hand catching a dribble of saliva, “now, turn around.”

The horse eagerly complies, spinning his bulk around, arching his back and flagging his tail to put his still-slick hole on display.

“You’re a vision,” the compliment is hoarse, Cress’ eyes tracing the form of Arven’s muscled ass once more. Emboldened, the mongoose continues. “It really is too bad that no one’s ever given you what you need.”

Arven raises his head, looking over his shoulder at Cress with a faintly puzzled expression. “What do you – ah~” Before the horse could finish the question, Cress had slammed into his loosened ass, forcing Arven to take him to the base all in one stroke.

He pauses, letting the horse adjust around him. Comparatively, Cress’ form is tiny against the bulk of a full-grown draft horse, but taking any cock for the first time could make it feel massive. Holding on to Arven’s hips, Cress pants. “Everyone’s always so -” done waiting, he punctuates his next words with a thrust, “eager – to try and – fit that monster inside them, they’ve never – done you the favor – of showing you – what you’re really good for.”

The horse presses back against him with every thrust, a symphony of nickers and moans spouting from his mouth, uncontrolled. Arven clenches around Cress, and the meerkat’s thrusts begin to grow sloppier.

He reaches around the horse’s bulk, only able to catch the massive dick Arven possesses due to its ridiculous size. Cress strokes it the best he can, in tandem with his thrusts as he grinds himself harder into Arven’s sweet hole.

“No one but me knows,” he manages around his heaving breaths, “that the slab of meat between your thighs is useless decoration.”

And with that, Arven spasms around Cress’ cock, muscles twitching as the draft horse fights to keep him limbs underneath him. The sound of cum splattering against the linoleum below meets the meerkat’s ears as he lets go around his handful of horsecock, wrapping a hand around the base of the horse’s flailing tail and smearing a streak of cum through the dark hair, roughly pulling it up and out of the way as he continues to fuck Arven through his orgasm.

The horse still dutifully clenches around him, rocking back into the thrusts even as Cress begins to wring overstimulated whimpers out of the big man. Having seen his near-daily annoyance come unraveled, Cress plunges in deep, finally letting himself spill into Arven’s unused passage.

The horse trembles as Cress seeds him, holding still as the meerkat finishes, using Arven’s bulk as the support to keep himself standing.

Finally, panting, Cress pulls out, watching the horse’s thick anus try to wink shut as a dribble of cum manages to escape and start to trace its way down his balls. Legs weak, the meerkat lets his legs fold beneath him, sinking to the floor as he admires his work.

The massive bay draft horse on hands and knees, round, muscled ass leaking the cum of a man half his size, massive cock laying limp between his thighs as it retreats back into his thick sheathe. Kneeling in a puddle of his own cum, seed wasted on the floor and fur slick with sweat.

Arven turns, that familiar glint apparent in his eyes. “Good choice,” he says, voice approving even as it’s audibly exhausted.

With that, the muscled form slumps to the ground with a thump, the spirit’s job evidently done. Cress’ eyes grow huge as he scrambles up, searching for a cloth to try and wipe up the mess. It was bad enough that he fucked a customer on the clock – he couldn’t leave the evidence for someone to find! And what if Arven woke up and took issue with what just happened?

Quickly, the meerkat finds some of the cleaning rags and spray he uses on the gym equipment. Getting a cloth damp in the sink, he uses it to wipe down himself, then the still unconscious form of Arven. Some streaks of cum remain in the horse’s fur, Cress simply too small to easily get the massive slab of muscle rolled over on his own.

Wiping up what he can of the floor, Cress swallows as he stares at Arven’s still bare ass. Maybe he’d be foggy enough to leave without causing problems.

Escaping from the room with what he could of the evidence, Cress throws the rags into the gym’s laundry pile and settles himself at the reception desk.

A couple hours later, when Arven groggily hauls himself through the front of the gym, their eyes meet. The horse seems to be assessing something, but leaves without a word.

-

Arven enters the gym a couple days later, approaching the reception desk with an expression that Cress can’t quite place. Dread curls in the meerkat’s gut, but he does his best to plaster his customer service smile over it.

“Hey Arven!” he chirps, unconvincing even to his own ears. “Need some water?”

The big horse shuffles, hoofs making noise against the linoleum tile with every step. “I’d like to discuss my issue privately.”

Cress blinks, re-evaluating. Was the spirit wrong? Can the horse actually remember what Cress did to him, to his body? He does his best to gather himself. “Are you sure? I can do a lot to help out here!”

The horse swallows visibly, Adam’s apple bobbing. “In the back. Please,” Arven rumbles.

Cress tilts his head. Interesting, he thinks, he never said please before.

“Alright,” he agrees, hopping down from his stool behind the desk. The meerkat walks at his normal pace, ears flicking back to listen to the horse clopping along behind him. Each of Arven’s steps is at least three of his, and the notion sends a shiver down his spine.

He opens the door to the employee break room, gesturing the big horse inside. Following Arven in, Cress hops up into the closest thing to a comfortable chair amongst the collection of beat up furniture. Arven remains standing, looming over the small form of the mongoose.

Cress’ eyebrow creeps up his face. “Not going to sit?”

Arven’s weight shifts, the bay visibly uncomfortable. “Not yet.”

“Alright,” the meerkat says with a small shrug, “suit yourself. What did you need help with?”

“I don’t know what you did to me -” Cress’ eyes fly open, and he braces his hands on the seat of the chair, ready to shove himself out of it at the slightest movement from the horse, “but I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Cress relaxes marginally, eyes roaming the form of Arven in front of him. “In what way?”

Arven’s face flushes so hard that Cress can see it through his dark fur. Bashfully, he turns around. He pulls his loose-fit gym shorts down, revealing the curve of his ass in a jockstrap to the diminutive meerkat. The straps cup his cheeks, pulling them up as the pouch begins to strain to contain his swelling package. With one last shy glance over his shoulder, he hikes up his tail, flagging it to the side to reveal his hole.

Cress’ mouth goes dry. Arven’s ass is slick with lube, the fur around his hole matted with the quantity of it. And, sitting right in the middle, is the base of a pretty pink plug. The horse flexes around it, his muscles working around the intrusion as his cock continues to drop out of his sheath, jockstrap beginning to strain around him.

“This way,” the words are soft, barely reaching the meerkat’s ears.

“Yeah?” Cress manages to croak out, lifting himself from his seat to take the couple of steps separating him from Arven, reaching up to palm the draft horse’s ample ass, “Did you have to steal that from your girlfriend?”

Arven turns his face, hiding it behind a bulky shoulder and Cress pull his cheeks apart. “Girls aren’t doing it for me anymore,” he admits in a near whisper as Cress watches with rapt attention as the horse flexes rhythmically around his plug.

Feeling emboldened, Cress traces Arven’s crack with one hand, tapping the base of the plug with enough force to make the big horse jolt. The meerkat presses his palm to it, grinding the toy into Arven’s guts. “What is?”

This time, the response is completely inaudible. Cress leans in, pulling the plug’s base down with one finger as he slips his tongue in alongside it, tasting sweat and musk and lube, stretching the pliable muscle.

Arven moans, pushing back into it. Cress pulls back, Arven’s ass chasing the touch of his tongue. “Please,” the word is nearly torn out of the horse, completely involuntary. Cress’ eyes trace the form of Arven’s massive cock, dangling untouched and useless between his thighs as a bead of pre-come begins to form at the flat head.

“Please what?” he asks, reaching down to fondle Arven’s leathery sack, lifting it to watch it bounce between his thick legs.

“Fuck me,” Arven begs him.

Cress steps back, and the horse whines at the loss of contact. “Turn around,” he instructs, and, slowly, the massive form of the man before him complies. “Down,” comes next, and as Arven instantly drops to his knees, a thrill runs through the meerkat.

With one last fortifying gulp of air, the mongoose pulls down his uniform pants, letting them pool around his paws. He wraps a hand around his base, cock already fully unsheathed from feasting his eyes on such a fine specimen of masculinity. Arven bows his head, and Cress taps his tapered tip against the horse’s massive muzzle.

It opens without a moment’s thought, the velvety tongue wrapping itself around Cress as he moans, bucking into it. Only a second later, that same tongue has emerged from Arven’s mouth, curling around the bottom of Cress’ furry sack, helping the horse lift it as he sucks.

Soon, Cress’ entire package is contained within the warm, wet mouth of a horse twice his size. Legs growing weak, the meerkat stumbles back, one hand blindly searching for the chair he had just left as the horse stretches to allow his nose to stay firmly attached to Cress’ crotch.

Hoisting himself back up into the chair, the meerkat buries both hands into the dark mane, thrusting up into the perfect haven Arven is offered his cock. He can feel the horse’s spit begin to run down the back of his balls, wetting the fur of his taint before dribbling down onto the fabric of the chair below.

Arven rests his chin on the seat of the chair, eyes fixed on Cress’ face as he gently nurses on the meerkat’s package, balls firmly encompassed by the same wondrous heat.

“Look at you,” Cress breathes, stroking an affectionate hand over the soft fur of the bay’s nose, “hungry for my cock because yours it too big to be of any use.” The words make Arven moan, and Cress bucks up into it.

“You like that, don’t you?” Cress coos, rocking up into the horse’s mouth, “poor stud, with a dick bigger than he knows what to do with. Lucky for him, I know it’s better ignored.”

The meerkat’s grip tightens, and half his sack slips out of Arven’s mouth, the spit-slicked orb suddenly chilled in the air of the room. It slaps against the horse’s chin as Cress uses the horse’s mane as a handle to lift himself up, fucking his mouth in earnest as he pants. “Just a couple days without someone willing to fuck you, and look at what – what you’re reduced to,” the meerkat manages as his sack begins to grow tight to his body, “so desperate for cock that you plug yourself up and come find me at work.”

Cress forces himself to pull out, guiding Arven back with a tight grip on the horse’s mane. With one hand, he gently slaps his dripping shaft against one side of Arven’s muzzle. “No one else willing to fuck a big dicked bottom, so I have to do it for them.”

Arven moans, his tongue still lapping at Cress’ balls.

“Turn around.”

The horse moves even faster than he had before, settling on hands and knees as presenting his ass to the meerkat still seated in the chair. He pulls his tail up and out of the way, displaying his beautiful plugged ass once more.

“Don’t worry,” Cress mutters as he rises to a kneel in the chair, using Arven’s hips to steady himself. “I know just what you need.”

If he managed to remember later, he was absolutely going to be leaving a 5 star review for that witch.

Without any further delay, Cress wrapped his fingers around that pretty, pink, stolen plug, and began to work it loose.