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The bus service didn't run as far as the farm, so Eric had to walk the last few miles. It was already late afternoon by the time he got dropped off, at the sign saying "Bracken Farm", and the sun was barely above the line of sentinel pines that marked the edge of the family farm. He slung his bag over his shoulder, took a deep breath of the warm day, and sauntered up the road that led to the farmhouse.

He'd forgotten so much about this place in the last fifteen years. The rusted old pickup that lay--still--on the edge of the field nearest the road. The way the corn fields swayed in the wind. The silence. After the rattling of the old bus along the untarred road had faded, the only sound was a dog, barking somewhere distant. Bracken Farm was located far from everything, and the silence was the strongest memory he had of those years he'd lived here. It was nothing like the city. "Vegetables aren't very noisy, son". He remembered his father making that joke.

He wondered what his father would look like now. His memories of him were vague and incomplete; scraps of a bigger picture. He remembered an enormous brown-furred Clydesdale, grabbing him and carrying him around on his shoulders. Eric's own height and muscle definitely came from his father's side of the family. He'd laughed a lot, and loved to cook generously with his own produce. He would hold ice cream cones for Eric to lick at, when they'd visit the beach. That was all, really. The voice he'd heard over the phone hadn't triggered any further memories at all; good or bad.

They'd only begun speaking recently. When Eric had graduated high school, his mother had given him her half of the farm. She said it only held bad memories for her. He'd spent some free time at university reading up on farm management, and while he was nowhere near an expert, he thought he knew enough to be able to make sure it was being run properly. After all, it would be his someday. He didn't want to inherit a trash heap. So, he'd finally contacted his father to see about coming to visit the farm - just to catch up, he'd told him.

Unexpectedly, despite the fact that the guy was a grade A asshole who wrecked their family, he'd actually enjoyed reconnecting with him. He hoped he wouldn't feel bad about making changes to how the farm was run.

He walked along, lost in thought, until a flicker of motion made him raise his head. A couple of horses were running around a field. He stopped in surprise. That field used to be alfalfa, he was sure. Horses, that was new. Mustangs, by the look of them; a mare and a stallion. They were galloping around the field, prescribing a wide circle, carefree. Eric leaned on a fence post and watched them for a bit. They seemed happy and well cared for; not that he expected less. His father was a good farmer, as the financials showed, and while livestock was a bit of a departure from vegetables and feed, Eric was sure he'd approach it with no less care or attention. A stable had been erected at the far end, just peeking out behind a copse.

As he watched the horses, the stallion stopped its mad canter, and trotted over towards him, right up to the fence. The beast was bigger than it seemed at a distance, and Eric could actually meet its gaze directly. The horse looked at him with big eyes, and shook its head, before spotting a tuft of grass and nibbling on it. Eric reached out and petted his neck.

"Hello there," said Eric. Talking to a feral. Weird day. "You live here now, huh? I hope you're worth it." He'd have to ask his father what on earth convinced him that this was a good idea. Breeding, maybe? But with just the one pair, it wouldn't turn much of a profit, unless the stallion was a prize stud. He didn't look like one. And the feed costs alone must make them quite a drain, especially if they replaced an entire field of alfalfa.

On the whole, Eric decided, he seemed to be quite a poor buy. Just a regular, boring horse...with a big dick. His eyes opened in surprise as the stallion dropped, and hardened. The mare must be in heat. He was quite happy with his own endowment, but this horse outdid him handsomely. The penis was very pink, an odd contrast to the tan fur. It seemed to hover under the horse for a bit, framed between his two smooth testicles, and his eyes took it in; only when the stallion began slapping his cock against his belly did he finally looked away. "Bye, you dirty creature," he said, lifting his pack back up and walking off.

The rhythmic 'slap, slap' sound of the horse's masturbation followed him up the path. He adjusted his pants, which had grown unaccountably tighter, and tried to ignore it.

---

Around the next bend, the farmhouse loomed. It was a great, creaky old thing, supposedly built during the Depression. On a farm filled with various large and dangerous machines, his biggest worry growing up was that the house would collapse on him in his sleep. It seemed to have survived the last decade relatively unscathed, apart from a new paint job and shutters. The bench on the porch was new too, but the grizzled horse sitting on it, drinking a mug of something, was not. His father waited for him to get closer, before he put the mug down, pushed himself to his hooves, and stepped out onto the grass.

His father was every inch the Clydesdale. Well over six feet tall, and powerfully muscled. Arms like a stevedore hung on either side of a body that barely hid its power under the encroaching softness of middle age. A bit of a gut did nothing to reduce the effect. Clearly, he still did a lot of the farm work himself. The beard was new, though; scrappy white whiskers softening the jawline a little, finishing the effect produced by the wide, happy grin plastered over his handsome face. The guy was actually quite a stud, Eric thought. Good choice, mom.

Eric waved half-heartedly as he approached. "Hey, Rola-" His father interrupted him silently, with a crushing bear hug that made his son 'oof'. He even lifted him off the ground a little. Eric had matured into a powerful young stallion, but his father made him feel like a little boy again. After a few seconds of the hug, his father put him down again, and took a step back. Eric was embarrassed to see tears in his eyes. "Aw, c'mon, Roland, don't get all weepy on me..." he mumbled. He'd started calling his father by his given name when he and his mother had left. When he'd stopped caring that he was his father.

The other horse sniffed, wiping the tears away, and flashed Eric another huge grin. "I'm sorry, son, I...I'm just really happy to see you." He laughed a little, then threw an arm around Eric's shoulders. "Look at you! Haha! So tall, just like your dad, huh? And handsome! Your mother's side at work there, huh?" The arm around him squeezed, and the older horse slapped his chest. "Come on, come on, let's go inside! Did you have a long walk from the bus? I know it doesn't stop real close anymore..." While his father prattled on about simple things, Eric hitched the strap of his bag and followed him indoors.

Later, they sat outside on the porch together, and watched the night descend. Roland had shown him around - "but you remember most of it" - and told him that he'd have to sleep in his room, since his old one had been turned into a storeroom. When Eric pointed out that they were, together, quite a large mass of horseflesh, and questioned the safety of any bed they both lay on at the same time, the senior replied, "The bed's still that old whale from your grandparents. If it kept up with all their years of fucking, I'm sure it'll hold up for one more night." His father came from a huge family; eighteen brothers and sisters.

He'd offered to take the couch, but his father had instantly vetoed that idea. "That thing's a wreck, son. Nothing but old springs. As soon as you sat down, they'd leap out and kill you. I can't lose my only son to a couch, Eric." Eric had come to remember that his father was a real fan of dumb jokes. "Also knocked out the old hobby room, made it part of the kitchen. Needed all the extra space for cooking by myself, ya know." Eric had nodded, feeling a little bad for his father. He was desperately trying to convey an attitude of relaxed happiness, but Eric could see how grateful he was to have him here. He didn't think it was all due to them being family, either. He wondered when last anyone else had visited.

Now, sitting together outside, drinking a beer, and chatting about simple, inconsequential things, he could almost imagine Roland was just a good buddy of his. Both he and his father had avoided mentioning his mother, or the divorce. There was a shared silent understanding of the pain there, and no desire to relive it. So, they talked about the latest crops, and Eric's studies, and Roland bitched gently about the cost of feed. Only then did Eric remember the horses.

"Oh yeah - what's up with the horses, Roland? There's no way that's making money for you, right? I mean, shit, the two of them together must have cost - what? Thousands? Can't be more, they're nothing special..." Might as well get the unpleasant business out of the way now.

Roland smiled faintly, and rolled his beer bottle between his fingers. "Yeah, I...I guess I just got a bit tired of..." He trailed off, looking pensive.

"What? Running a profitable farm? Two horses versus a field of alfalfa, seems pretty clear to me. Did they at least eat the last crop of it?"

The big horse shrugged, the motion rolling across his frame like a slow tsunami. He did not seem to enjoy this line of conversation. "I just like the company, I guess," he said quietly.

Eric sat in silence for a moment. There it was. "Roland...Dad," he corrected. It had been at least a decade since he would have heard him say that, and it had the desired effect. Roland bit his lip, and quickly looked down. "You gotta...the farm's too big for one horse. You need to sell. You're getting older, and-"

"No." Just that, and quiet, but firm. "No, Eric. I'm not selling the farm. Please don't ask me again. I'm really happy you came to visit, I've missed you so much, and I don't want to ruin this one night by talking about that, please. This is my home." For all his bulk, he suddenly seemed to Eric to be huddled, small, and helpless. "All my memories of you, of...of before, they're all here. I know, I know," he said, waving a hand to quieten Eric's frustrated attempt to reply, "but that's just how I feel, alright? It's my farm and I'll do what I want on it." No, it's our farm, thought Eric. But that, it seemed, was the end of the conversation for now. "Want another beer?" Eric shook his head, and his father grunted, getting to his feet anyway and disappearing inside. "Gonna take a shower," he called back.

"K, sure." Eric let his head fall back against the wooden slats of the house, and sighed. He'd expected resistance, of course, but his go-to approach of playing to his father's age was transparent to both of them, now that he'd seen him. He was older, sure - Eric was a little ashamed to realise he had no idea how old his father was - but as strong as ever. He'd watched his old man's biceps bulge as the horse drank his beer, and his tree-trunk legs had barely had to try to lift all two hundred pounds of him when they hugged. Plus, Eric had seen a really nice ass when he walked in front of him...he suddenly realised his pants had grown uncomfortably tight again. Shit, was there something in the air on this farm? He took an angry gulp of his drink. Whatever; it was normal. He'd not seen Roland since he was small, he barely remembered anything about him. For all his brain knew, this was just another hunk at the gym to chase after. Just ignore it.

The rationalisation sat in a corner of his mind, and snickered.

Evening was at an end, the final light fading from the sky, as birds whisked their way home. Eric finished his beer, and sat staring out across the fields. The beers, and the long trip from the city, had made him dozy. And horny. His hand rubbed his crotch, his cock stirring. Fuck, that felt nice. He had expected to get laid the night before, but at the last minute, the dumb bull had to cancel. He'd been so looking forward to fucking him. He leaned against the house, and spread his legs, massaging his sheath, thinking back on past trysts with the bovine. He had such nice balls, too...he could really go for some musky nuts right now. Like that feral down the road had.

Woa. He blinked. Where had that come from? He shook his head. Definitely something in the air here. He'd better message that bull right now; he'd swing past on his way home tomorrow, fuck him extra rough for leaving him like this. Pulling out his phone, he started tapping.

"Roland?" he called vaguely, into the house. Did a shower really take this long? He got to his feet, waving away the small cloud of insects that had emerged as night took hold, and pushed the screen door open. The house was still; no sounds of showering, or anything else, from upstairs. Eric wandered through the sitting room, fingers busy on his phone, only half-noticing that it was still carpeted in that same hideous shag, and peered into the kitchen.

Roland stood at the lintel of the back door. It seemed he had showered, for now he wore only a pair of rough denim shorts. He was leaning against the door frame, illuminated by the lamp outside, framed in golden light. The hairs of his mane lay damp, still, over his shoulders and back. The lines of muscle there framed a hollow that ran down from his neck to his ass, disappearing under the denim, between the firm mounds. One arm was hanging by his side, while the other appeared to be holding something in front of him. Eric made to call out, but then heard a soft sob. His father's massive body heaved a little, and then some more. Eric watched his father weeping softly.

Well, shit.

The kitchen was floored with tiles, so his father turned to him as soon as he heard the sound of his hooves. He looked awful. Teary-eyed, sniffling, his shoulders drooped, and in one hand he gripped what looked like a photo. A photo of them, Eric realised. Before he and his mother left. Some anonymous sunny day, three happy faces. His heart sank. He tried to think of something to say, but there was nothing to say that could make the last decade any different, or pretend he hadn't come here to try to take the farm. Stepping forward, he just wrapped his arms around his father, who shuddered, and gripped his sides. Roland dropped his head to his son's shoulder, and cried.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, between heaves. "I'm sorry, son. I fucked it all up. I wish I didn't. But I don't know how--" He broke off, mouth quivering, looking defeated.

Eric held him, feeling a little emotional himself. "No, Roland...dad. I'm sorry. I was a dumbass, I didn't think. The farm is doing fine, it--"

His father's head came up, and he wiped away his tears, his big, beautiful eyes full of regret. He shook his head sadly. "No, Eric, not the farm. I'm so happy to see you again, Eric, and..." His face twisted. "I want you to know the truth, even if it means I don't get to see you again. About why your mother left."

Well, shit. Again. Eric's mother had refused to tell him why she'd left her husband, so Eric had imagined everything from infidelity, to abuse. Guess finding out now would be something, anyway.

His father sniffed again, taking a deep breath. His mouth opened, then closed. Finally: "Your mother caught me fucking someone else."

Eric waited, in case there was more, but no - it was just that simple. Well, he had thought it was that. The classic male weakness. "Yeah, Roland, I figured. I just didn't know who. Someone in town? Uh, no?" His father was shaking his head vigorously.

"No, you don't...um." He paused again, rubbing his head with a hand. Yet another deep sigh. "I--I fucked the Besson's stallion when we visited them that one Christmas. Your mother caught me in the stables with his dick in me. She just walked out. When I got back to the house, she was gone. With you." He stared directly at his son, lips drawn thin, clearly awaiting recrimination, disgust, rejection.

Eric was speechless. A whole lot was happening in his head, and an altogether disturbing amount in his pants as well. He fucked a feral? Oh fuck, a feral dick in that sexy ass? SEXY? No, what? He's your dad, ewww. This was so, so wrong. But, his brain just couldn't reconcile the vague and distant memory of a father figure, with the half-naked stud stallion in front of him, admitting that he'd let a feral stallion fuck him. Unbidden, his mind called up the image of the long, pink cock slapping at the belly of the horse earlier. His own cock, still a little plump from the bit of attention earlier, took this as the signal to drop and start growing. Now? REALLY? His father was still staring at him, but looking a little more confused than concerned, now.

"Uhh - alright," Eric managed to say, his eyes sliding down his father's muscled chest - stop looking at your dad you fucking perv! - then looking off to the side, desperate to break the stare. "That's...didn't expect that. Umm...so--"

"Eric, are you hard?" His father's incredulous tone punctured the vague hope he'd had that this might be a dream. He glanced up guiltily, meeting a stare from his father that was both confused and hopeful. The older horse's eyes rode down from his son's eyes, to his crotch. Eric, feeling more confused by the minute, slapped a hand over his crotch, and turned away. He tried--and failed--to ignore how pleasant it had felt to see his father's eyes roving over his body.

"What? No! Huh? You're gay?" The last came out before he could stop it. Eric felt untethered in his own mind. Of course his father wasn't gay, he'd been married for over ten years, he had a kid...

"Yeah. Just like you." Eric had mentioned boyfriends during their phone chats, he vaguely recalled, as he kept his eyes fixed on the far kitchen wall. Or something. Whatever. Fuuuucking hell. He just needed to stop this, to organise his thoughts, to not feel so fucking aroused. Time to go, too much weirdness, gotta get out. "I think I better go--"

"I've fucked other ferals too." And now, as if he knew what was going through his head, his father's voice was different. No trace of the sadness of minutes before. Huskier. Sexier.

Oh, shit, no no no. Eric closed his eyes, trying to force his cock back into his sheath by sheer willpower, but his stupid brain simply countered with the image of an endless train of feral stallions, assfucking his beefy, hot, hairy dad, each being lubricated by the cum of the one before. It was insanely hot. His cock bulged obscenely in his pants, and he gave a little shiver.

"You saw that stallion on your way here? That's Thor. He fucks me at least four times a week, with that gorgeous dick. I got the mare to get him excited, but it turns out he's a big ol' fag too, just like you and me, so he's more than happy to fill me whenever I need." A pregnant pause. "Do you wanna watch?"

"Yes." Eric breathed the word instantly, opening his eyes and looking at his father. He didn't care anymore. His mind finally gave in to the demands being yelled by his dick; he had to see this. A big smirk appeared on the other Clydesdale's attractive face, and he started out the back door, gesturing for Eric to follow him. He led him across the lawn, towards the stable. Looking across at his son, he actually giggled, like an enormous, muscled schoolgirl. "I've never had anyone watch me before. It's kinda hot." As he walked, he reached down to unzip his pants, kicking them off to the side and rubbing his rapidly-hardening dick once freed. Eric was impressed; his old man was packing.

They reached the stables, and Roland pushed the door open. It was empty, but he picked up a bucket lying next to the door, and clanged it metallically against the floor. There was a distant neighing, and Thor appeared, galloping in from the field. This was apparently a signal, because his pink dick was already dropping, swinging about under him, long and flaccid, but hardening by the second. Eric whimpered a little to see it. Roland stepped up to Thor, and nuzzled the side of the horse's face, whispering to him. Thor nickered and scraped a hoof across the floor, and slapped his cock against his belly. Roland looked across at his son with a smile. "He doesn't like to wait. Typical stallion, huh?" He stroked a hand along the excited horse's flanks, making the feral shiver, and trailed under his belly to grip the fat shaft there. A few short strokes, and it was hard, just as Eric had seen it earlier. Roland knelt down, stroking both hands slowly up and down the horse's cock, teasing the flare and massaging the soft flesh.

It was the hottest thing Eric had ever seen.

Roland peered at him from under the horse. "Seems you're the only horse in here still with clothes on, son." Eric gasped, and rapidly stripped down, his own fiercely hard dick flopping out, pre running freely. He gripped his balls in one hand, and his dick in the other, breathing heavily as he watched Roland pleasure the feral stallion. His eyes roved over the shaft, before settling on the heavy testicles that nestled in the shadow of his thigh. Big, full, musky nuts. Lust took over, and he stumbled over to the horse, getting down and pushing his muzzle into the cleft between the balls, breathing deeply. It smelled almost the same as the anthro horses he fucked, but with a little something more - something wilder. He moaned loudly, and spread his lips, suckling on as much of them as he could. They were too big to fit in his mouth, but he made a heroic effort.

Roland watched him with a greedy expression. "Oh fuck, son, you're really into it, huh?" He tugged the long dick towards him, and started sucking on the tip, expertly circling the glans and teasing at the head. All the while, his eyes stayed on his son's face, buried in horse nuts. Thor himself seemed well-used to this treatment; he was standing calmly, allowing the anthro horses to pleasure him. Occasionally, he would whinny, or shake his head. Eric could feel the heat of the large body surrounding him, and the base of the fat cock pulsed to the feral's heartbeat against his cheek. It just made him desire the animal more.

Time passed; Eric could not have said how long. The stable was filled with the soft sounds of anthro mouths exploring feral stud. Eventually, Roland let the swollen tip of Thor's dick drop from his mouth. A thin rope of spit linked them for a moment, then broke when he licked his lips. He looked at his son with half-lidded eyes. "Son. Come. Help me set him up." He gestured towards the back of the stables, where a mechanism lurked in the gloom; a dummy mare, but heavily modified. Various handholds and added padding left no question as to what it was intended for.

Eric reluctantly let the feral nuts slip loose and hang, glistening wetly from his attentions. He joined his father by the dummy, dragging it forward. Thor whinnied loudly; he was aware of what came next. Roland pulled out a small stepladder and climbed up onto the mare. Eric watched, feeling almost lightheaded with desire. He squeezed his balls and flicked a finger over his cock-tip, a pattern that always kept him on the edge, but didn't make him cum. Roland settled into a well-worn depression in the dummy, tucking his feet into straps on either side, and pushing his dick down through a hole in the middle. This left his ass spread, and invitingly open. His tail flicked up and across one thigh, and he huffed. Pre dripped onto the floor from his cock.

If Thor had been haltered, he would have been champing at the bit by now; as it was, his instincts were close to overriding his excellent training. He snorted, shook his head, and slammed his hoof against the floor repeatedly. His thick cock bounced off his belly. Clear signals; I want to fuck. Roland made calming noises at him as he checked his placement, then looked over at his son. "Thor lasts pretty long, but not as long as anthros do. Enjoy it while it lasts." Then he gave a piercing whistle, and Thor trumpeted, charging forward and lifting his body, landing heavily on Roland's back. The anthro horse groaned from the weight, then groaned again as the stallion's dick slapped against his ass. "Help him, please" he begged, and Eric quickly moved to grab the flailing cock and guide it to his father's asshole. As soon as Thor felt the soft hole under his tip, he rammed forward with a mighty thrust of his hips, and most of that pink fuckstick disappeared inside Roland. Eric shuddered, his knees almost buckling at the sight.

Roland yelled, his head lifting up, then falling back down. Eric was worried something was wrong, but the yell was almost immediately replaced by deep, long moans and muttered expletives. "Oh fuck, Thor, gimme that big dick, you stupid sexy gorgeous beast..." Eric's breath shortened, unable to take more than a shallow lungful at a time, eyes fixed on the sight of Thor's jackhammering dick fucking his father. His hand slid up and down his cock, fast as he could, moaning loudly. Thor had his father's sides gripped between his front legs, and his balls swung around as his hips rammed in and out. Eric didn't know what to look at first. His mind was a whirl of lust. He could feel his orgasm approaching, but, fuck, not yet, push it down, he wanted to see so much more...

His eyes flickered from the stepladder to the horse's nuts, and the tail whipping about behind Thor. Without even giving it a second thought, he ran to the other side, and grabbed the stepladder. "What are you--" his father began, then cut himself off with another moan; the horse's hard dick was doing incredible things to his prostate. Eric placed it behind the horse, climbed up, and pushed the tail aside. A winking horse doughnut greeted him, pulsing in time with the stallion's thrusts. It was all the invitation he needed, intentional or not. Eric grabbed his dick, lined it up, then pushed deep into Thor's ass with a moan that sounded just like his father's.

He'd taken horses before, of course, many times, but they were anthro; this was so much better. So soft, and hot, and gripping his dick repeatedly, as the stallion's fucks accelerated in pace. He hilted himself in seconds, head tipping forward to touch the stallion's back, and lay there a little insensate as the horse under him thrust roughly in and out of his father, causing him to slide in and out as well. They were fucking, and getting fucked, in tandem. Just the thought of it made him grip Thor's fur roughly. He wasn't going to last much longer, he could feel. Holy shit, he'd been fucking the wrong horses all these years...

Thor's thrusts halted momentarily. Then, after three final, jerky thrusts and a bellowed whinny, the stallion came. Moments later, two anthro voices joined him in his rapture, as the feral stallion's orgasm triggered their own. Eric's cock was powerfully gripped, and he screamed with pleasure, feeling like his balls were exploding inside the ass that held him. Some small part of him heard his father making animalistic noises of his own, as hot stallion cum boiled into him and filled his insides. And in the middle of it all, Thor the stallion whinnied on and on, pumping his seed into the hole he most enjoyed. Three equine minds, so different at any other time, were temporarily united in lust, and cock, and cum.

After Thor was done, he pulled back, knocking over the stepladder and sending Eric sprawling across the straw-strewn floor, the young anthro's dick barely softened and still slick with sex. Eric barely noticed the fall; his mind was a pleasurable fog after the most intense orgasm he could remember. A few final squirts of cum dribbled out of him, and he lay, slack-jawed, until his father collapsed on the straw next to him. They looked at each other. Eric ran a hand down to feel his father's stretched, dripping hole, almost orgasming again at the thought of what had caused it, and giggled. His father smiled back. The two horses lay together in silence for a while, bodies sweaty and breathless.

"...Roland." Eric's eyes were closed as he spoke, still savouring the afterglow.

"Yeah, son?"

"You can keep the horse. And the farm. But mostly the horse."

Roland chuckled. "Aw, gee, thanks, kid."

"Wait, wait, it's not that simple. There's a condition."

"Uhu?"

"Me next, Dad."

Thor, master horsefucker, snorted at them, then trotted out of the stable. His Mjölnir slipped back up into its sheath; not asleep, merely resting, always at the ready to fill another male's hole.