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Perch lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to keep his body from quivering. It was nearly time! He almost couldn't wait. A small 'eeeee' escaped him, loud in the pre-dawn silence. He slapped his fingers to his mouth and quickly looked across at the mountain of duvet-covered flesh sleeping next to him. The slow breathing did not change, and he relaxed.

He glanced at the clock again. The little hand was close to the number that looked like sideways glasses. It had barely moved since he last looked. He shifted impatiently. Why was time so slooooow? He shut his eyes tightly and imagined it speeding by. It had not done so when he reopened them. Ughhh. He tried to help it along by going over his plan in his head for the umpteenth time. Sneak to the kitchen; close the bedroom door so Daddy didn't wake up. Get all the ingredients out. Start the stove. Start the oven. Start the microwave. Cook everything. Clean up. Bring upstairs to Daddy. It was fool proof.

Rather than help time to pass, going over his plan again had just made him even more anxious to begin. He gazed at the recumbent Friesian next to him. He would be so impressed by breakfast in bed. Perch was amazed nobody else had ever thought of it before, in fact. Perhaps Daddy could sell it to the business wolf that kept visiting him and make a lot of money. Maybe hundreds. Maybe lots of hundreds. Maybe then he could afford to get Perch some pants that didn't seem to keep ripping at the rear whenever he bent down. Or turned. Or put them on.

The mosquito of impatience became unbearable. Perch double-checked that Daddy hadn't woken -- he had been in a loud business meeting with the wolf until late last night, so he was still fast asleep -- and then slowly slid out of the bottom of the bed, like a...a bed ninja. He held a finger to his own lips as his hoof clipped the credenza against the wall. Shush, gotta be quiet, it's a surprise. He put on his foot-warmers, with their padded bottoms to muffle the clop of his feet, and then slid towards the door like the world's most useless skier. Easing the door open, he gave a final glance back at his adoptive father, feeling a rush of pleasure and happiness. He couldn't wait to surprise him. He shut the bedroom door with care, and padded downstairs.

The kitchen was painted in grey shades as weak light filtered through the clerestory windows. Perch slapped the lights on and took stock. He was a big strong boy...well, a strong boy...well, a boy. He could do this! Even though it sometimes felt that he had been more, well, capable before he met Bucephalus, he still tried his best. Daddy understands. He seemed to, anyway. Perch nodded decisively and opened the fridge. He'd watched Daddy make breakfast a million billion times, it was easy. Probably even easier than getting Daddy hard by waggling his ass at him.

Four minutes later, Perch stood before the stove and eyed the eggs in the pan with a wary eye. This wasn't right. He didn't remember Daddy's eggs having bits of shell in them. Or did they? An indecisive panic washed over him, but he squared his feminine shoulders. No, Perch. This isn't the end. Come on. It was fine. He could fix this! Sticking his tongue out a little in concentration, the stallion began picking bits of shell out. The small ones were the hardest; they burned the tips of his fingers. He yelped softly, licking his fingers, then shrieked much more loudly when two lean, dark-furred arms unexpectedly slid around him. A muzzle pressed against his neck and blew warm air against his fur.

"Good morning, princess," his father's voice said. Perch flushed and nickered, as he always did, at his favourite nickname.

"Daddyyyy...you scared meee." He looked at the eggs in front of him. "Was supposed to be a surpriiiiise..."

"It is a surprise, princess. Are you making me breakfast? With, um, real food?" Perch could feel his little body vibrating as the big stallion's chest, pressed against his back, rumbled with his father's deep voice. It made him feel so safe. He nodded.

"In bed! I invented it. Well...you got awake now. So not in bed. But--" Perch tried to turn to look at his father, but the arms held him tight; he settled for resting his arms on top of them "--you can give it to your wolf friend! And he can sell it and you can make, um, a LOT of money and...we can...buy, um, things..."

The muzzle slid along his jaw, the damp nose feeling wonderful against Perch's fur. "Aren't you just a little dream, hmm? And so clever!"

Perch's eyes lit up. Daddy never said he was clever! The opposite, in fact. This idea must be amazing. "Yes daddy! I know! I just need to finish cooking..."

"Mhm. You do that, son. I'm just going to check something here..." The arms slid back out from around him, and Perch sensed his father's body lowering itself. Two fingers tucked into the top of his pyjama bottoms and pulled them down, exposing his ass to the chill morning air. Perch giggled and squirmed, feeling goose bumps pop out.

"Daddyyyy...I'm workiiing..." But he didn't put too much complaint into his tone. Any attention from his father was welcome.

"Yeah you are," the big horse replied. "My little chef..." He snorted, and then Perch gasped as two hands pulled his cheeks apart and a wide, warm tongue slapped against his perineum, sliding upwards.

"D...daddy..." Forming words was hard; Bucephalus' tongue had a lot of experience with his son's ass now, and he was moreover not wasting any time today. A couple languid licks up and down were all Perch got as warning before the tongue stabbed into his hole. He cried out and gripped the countertop. "Uuuhhhhhnnnnn..." His father's tongue was the next best thing to his cock, and in some ways, Perch even preferred it. As it slid deeper, stretching his passage, his eyes crossed a little and he let out a breathy 'haaaaaaaaa'.

"No talking, Perch, daddy's eating," Bucephalus said with just a hint of annoyance, and returned to his exploration of Perch's ass. Perch nodded hastily at nobody in particular and tried to focus on the stovetop. Eggs. Yes. Oh fuck, that tongue. Tonguefuck me daddy, never stop. Mmmmm. Eggs. He resumed picking shell out of the eggs, but it was hopeless now; they were done cooking. Eggshell was good, though, right? Calci...calciyum? That was important, he was sure. Yeah. It made your cum white. At the thought of cum, his cock bounced and his ass contracted; he felt his father murmuring something against his tailhole, and his tongue slipped in even deeper, making Perch moan.

Desperately trying to focus as his ass was turned into a pleasure palace, Perch pushed the pan of eggs over and reached to pull another onto the hob, but his hands curled up as his father's tongue circled and swirled, and he had to hold on to the counter again to support himself. He bit his lip and squealed as the tongue snuck even deeper. How long is daddy's tongue? His little body shivered with pleasure and he abandoned thoughts of breakfast. He needed this right now...this, or daddy's cock.

"F--fuck me daddddddyy," he panted, "Pleeeease. I neeeeed it." He really did. It had been ten hours since Daddy had filled him, and he was starting to feel the withdrawal. If he didn't get that big black horse cock inside him at least once a day, he just didn't feel right. He supposed a tongue could work too, though. He pushed back with his ass, trying to get more tongue into him, but only managing to push his father's face back. The stallion's tongue slithered out, and he snorted.

"Greedy fucking slut, aren't you? I'll decide if you get my cock, son." The muscled stud got to his feet and wrapped those strong arms around his son again. He peered over his shoulder. "Where's the bacon, Perch?"

"In my ass!" It didn't even make sense, but Perch could feel the monstrous bulge of his father's penis pressing against him; sense had packed its things into a chequered cloth, tied it to a stick, and set off for distant lands. His world was now that cock, and he shook with excitement.

"Really?" said Bucephalus. "Ass-bacon is new to me. How do I try some?" He slowly grinded his crotch against Perch's bare ass. "Is it...inside? I was just in there, I don't remember tasting bacon." A hot snort against Perch's ear made him gasp. "I only tasted horse slut," murmured his father. Perch giggled and quickly readjusted his cock, which was pressing up against the kitchen cabinet. He loved to hear Daddy's voice. It was better than foreplay, sometimes.

"It's yummy and inside and you have to taste it with dick, daddy!" He got a chuckle and a lick for that one, and then he felt one arm slide out to tug down Bucephalus' pants, and then...there it was. That hot, delicious tube of flesh was pressed against his tailhole, and he couldn't take it anymore. "Now, daddy, please please now, please fuck me! I'm so hornyyyy, I need you cock, daddy! I want you to fill me!" He stretched his legs apart on the tiles and swished his tail up as far as it would go, trying to signal with everything he had that he was a little mare boy that needed a rutting.

Bucephalus grinded a little longer, letting his shaft slide up and down between Perch's ass, teasing further squeals and groans from the little bottom, before rubbing his muzzle along Perch's neck. "Alright, son, since you asked so nicely..." He grabbed his dick and Perch felt that amazing, bulbous head placed at his hole. He shut his eyes and whimpered with joy, and then it began. His father simply leaned forward, and his mass did all the work.

The flare stretched apart the entrance to Perch's tunnel with exquisite slowness. Perch knew just how to relax to make it slide in as easily as a greased sausage, but today he felt like putting up a bit of a fight. He gripped down on the flare, trying to hold it still, and his father paused. "Are you fighting me, Perch?" Perch didn't reply, and the bigger stallion sniffed at him. "Are you sure you want to fight me, fuck-mare?" Perch 'eeped' at his second-favourite nickname and clenched in response. He knew how this went, but he enjoyed the game almost as much as the finale. His father huffed. "Nobody fights me, slut," he growled. "I'll show you..."

A hand rode up Perch's chest and settled comfortably against his neck, keeping him from escaping -- not that he could have squeezed out from the bulky stallion trapping him against the counter, or wanted to. With a thrill, he felt the horse's hand tighten, and the pressure on his hole increase. He did his best to keep the cock out for a bit, loving the grunts and growls of his big dom father, and then gave up suddenly, relaxing to allow it in. Fifteen inches of tensed horse cock slid into his welcoming passage, and he gave another 'haaaa' that was cut off when the hand on his neck slapped over his mouth.

"Shush now, Perch," Bucephalus said. "Let Daddy fuck your sweet hole in silence." He thrust in some more, at least another ten inches filling Perch, and Perch's nostrils flared and sucked at the air. Daddy's cock felt incredible, but he needed more. All of it. He pushed back with his ass and gripped, trying to somehow suck more cock inside him, feeling every thick vein pulse against his sensitised insides. His father's body responded, pushing forward to give him more dick, and dropping his hand from covering his mouth so that he could grip Perch's sides. They were done with the foreplay; now it was time to fuck like animals. Bucephalus pulled out completely...

The first massive thrust back in, from flare to root, made Perch scream with happiness. Even the painful impact of his father's weighty balls against his own just served to accentuate the pleasure flowering inside. The big Friesian whinnied and pulled back out again, then slammed back in. In moments, he was fucking Perch with all his power, making the little stallion's body swing back and forth like a piñata. Perch squealed and groaned and whinnied, his voice as high-pitched as a mare's and lusty as a stallion's. "Yes daddy, yes, I want it! Harder! I want your cock, daddy, give it to me, fill me with daddy cum!"

Bucephalus huffed and shoved his mouth against Perch's ear. "Leg up," he said. Perch knew what to do; he pulled one leg up and dropped it on the countertop, giving his father even more access to his asshole. He was repaid by feeling their bodies fit together even closer, every inch of his back and ass touching his father. He didn't have pretty words like his father did, to tell him just how he was feeling, how he felt transported to another, more glorious realm whenever they fucked, but he tried his best; at least until the rut took over, and he lost the ability to form a coherent sentence. Which was just about now.

He was reduced to a groaning, breathless cocksleeve for his father, and he loved it. The veins of the Friesian's huge cock would catch against the muscles of his ass and tug them along a little before they slipped back, and the flare would grind into his prostate like a drill. Sex noises filled the kitchen, leitmotif of their passion. Slaps, grunts, growls, whinnies, and above it all, Perch's regular, high-pitched yelps. He felt his father's motions speed up, and knew he was close. With a struggle, he got a few words out. "Fill me daddy...fill me fill me fill me..." His head dropped back and his father kissed him, their tongues intertwining. Perch just wanted to melt into a puddle of happiness...and then Bucephalus came, with a roar.

Perch knew that familiar warmth so well by now. It flooded into him, filling every crevice, and he whimpered into the kiss. His own cock jerked and shot it's load against the kitchen counter at the feeling. Bucephalus squeezed his abs in response, and held his cock deep in his son, plugging him, keeping all of his hot stallion spunk inside as he pumped and pumped. His grapefruit-sized balls, gifts of his zorse heritage, always delivered, even though he'd pumped just as big of a load into his son mere hours before.

When he was finally done, he continued to kiss Perch, softly and passionately. It was minutes before he released his mouth, and Perch had almost forgotten how to breathe. With his tongue lying slackly out of his mouth, like a dog, he looked up at his father's blue eyes and smiled. "Thaaank youuuu daddy!" Bucephalus smirked, and kissed his nose.

"Are you ready?" his father asked. Perch nodded, and Bucephalus pulled out, letting a flood of his semen follow his dick, streaming down Perch's legs and hooves and puddling under him. Perch shivered at the sensation of the cum dripping through his fur and looked down to watch it with an enraptured expression. Bucephalus, meanwhile, paced around to the stovetop and poked around, his big soft cock flopping between his legs. "These eggs have shell in them, son. And..." He looked around. "Still no bacon?"

Perch pouted. "You interrupted meeee..."

"Learn to cook breakfast and get fucked at the same time, son. Although--" He poked the rubbery eggs and made a face "--maybe I saved some bacon from being carbonised to a crisp." He shrugged. "Go get cleaned up, son, and clean up this mess, too," he said, waving at the pool of cum on the floor. "I'll fix breakfast."

Perch's face fell. "No, daddy! I want to do it! It's my surprise!"

Bucephalus scraped the shell-encrusted eggs into the trash. "It's not a surprise anymore, princess. Do you know what a surprise...never mind."

"But I'll make the best breakfast!"

"I promise, mine will be better." With a practised hand, he cracked two new eggs into a bowl. "French toast, coming up." He looked at his son's sad expression. "Oh, you silly little...alright, son, you can help me out at the dinner party next weekend, okay? We can cook together."

Perch clapped his hands happily. "Yaaaaay!" He slid around to give his father a big hug. "Thank you, daddy! I'm gonna clean up right now! French toast, yum, yum!" The horse disappeared upstairs and Bucephalus heard the shower start. He shook his head and got out his phone. Dialling a number, he held it to an ear as he mixed a little cinnamon into the eggs.

"Hey Andrew. How are you? Good, good. I need you to do something for me. Do you still know that guy that caters home events? Yeah, the wolf. Okay, perfect. Yeah, I'm having an event, and I don't...well, I will need some backup dishes. Don't ask..."