FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Perch slouched home, dragging a jacket on the ground behind him, oblivious to the dirt it was gathering. His bloodshot eyes were fixed on the ground in front of him, and his mouth was pulled into a thin line. One hand roved about; he held the back of his neck, then dropped it and stuck it in a pocket, only to pull it out again and rub it over his eyes. Now and then, he sniffed, and his jaw tightened, and he kicked the ground.

Everything was wrong.

He had been out on the town with some friends. He had been trying to get them to invite him out for months; ever since he moved in with Daddy, they'd been oddly distant. Finally, they had relented. Daddy didn't often let him go out without him, but the big stallion had been very busy all day organising for his stupid dinner party. When Perch had asked him nicely -- like a good son! -- if he could go meet his friends, he'd said he could.

Well, he'd said, "Fuck sakes Perch, can't you see I'm busy? Yeah, whatever, go then -- but get back in time, I'm not going to do everything by myself." But that was good enough. Perch was so excited. He'd gotten all dressed up in his prettiest new clothes: purple skirt, white stockings, and Daddy's favourite top, with the sequins that spelt out 'Cock-Bitch'. He'd imagined everything he was going to tell them, and all the events in their lives that he could catch up on.

But when he met up with them at the bar, things hadn't gone as he expected. His friends had been awkward, and distant; they discussed things that excluded Perch, like their studies, or parties they'd attended. The little stallion's attention circled them like a moth around a lantern. Every time he interjected with what he thought was a relevant anecdote-- "we went to a restaurant last weekend and I ate some snails!" -- the moth sun-dived into the flame, and nobody said anything for a bit. It was deeply uncomfortable, and Perch said less and less as the evening dragged on. He felt hurt by the attitude of his friends, but he didn't have the guts to do anything about it -- except leave. And when he finally announced that he needed to go, to be on time for the dinner party, the relief on the faces of his friends made his heart sink. He gathered his things in silence. As he turned to go, he caught one of his friends from the corner of his eye, looking at the others and rolling his eyes at them. A hot anger rose up in him, and he slammed his hands on the table.

"What, Beric?" he snapped, his ears flat with annoyance. "What is it? Am I boring you? I'm so sorry I'm not interesting enough to hang around you anymore." He didn't know for sure that that was the reason for the unpleasant evening, but the other options were less palatable. They've moved on. They never liked you in the first place. They're jealous and they hate you.

"There's nothing wrong with your stories, Perch," said Beric. The rabbit grabbed a chip and scooped up some dip. "The stories are fine. The stories are normal." He popped the chip into his mouth and chewed, the noise loud in the embarrassed silence.

Perch sniffed, confused. "But...you get all weird when I tell them! And you all look at me as if..." As if I'm a stranger. Even the thought hurt. He looked around at his friends; some of them dipped their heads to avoid meeting his eyes. Just as well; he didn't want them to see him sniffle and wipe his nose. "Why don't you like me anymore?" he asked in a tiny voice.

A snow leopard called Samantha slapped Beric on the back of his head with a huge paw. "Can you not be an asshole for one day, Beric?" she said. She looked straight at Perch. "Perch, hun, it's not you. We like you. It's your...boyfriend." The pause was long enough to let the awkward atmosphere thicken some more.

"Bucephalus?" Why didn't they like him? They didn't even know him. "He's not my boyfriend. He--" His voice faltered; he'd wanted to add he's my daddy, but somehow the words didn't quite come out, sticking in his throat like an unexpected bit of gristle. An unpleasant feeling rose in his gut. Meanwhile, Samantha raised her paws in appeasement.

"Okay, okay, don't get upset. Your guy, whatever. Bucky, is it?"

Instinctively, Perch yelled, "Don't call him that! He doesn't like it!" Even though I don't know why. The twinge in his gut worsened; it felt like something was moving about down there. He glared at her and nickered.

Samantha sighed, and scooted her chair forward to rest a paw on his arm and look at him, her big green eyes filled with pathos. It made him want to cry. "Sweetie -- look. Look how you're acting. Look how you dress. Can't you see you're being a bit...well..." She gripped his arm as tears filled his eyes. "You're different than we remember, Percheron, that's all," she sighed. "Not -- not really in a good way. And, um, we sort of think it's...him." She gave a tiny shrug, as if to apologise for having to be the one to tell him what everyone was thinking. Perch blinked away the tears, anger at her words warring with something else; something inside him that made him feel scared about where this was going. Like he'd managed to end up standing on the surface of the sea, as long as he didn't think about it. He lunged for the beach.

"Different doesn't automatically mean bad! There's nothing wrong! I love him, and he loves me, and we're happy and I love him! You're only jealous because I live in a big house and I have the best Daddy in the world! He's handsome and sexy and he makes me feel like a princess!"

The silence after was absolute. Even Beric had stopped chewing and was flushing with embarrassment, the redness rising halfway up his ears. Perch snorted. There, that had shut them up! That was it -- they were all jealous. They had only invited him to try to make him feel bad! He balled his hands into fists. They don't--

"Don't be a dumb shit, Princess Percheron. The creep's only using you." The unexpectedly deep voice of Pietr the vole came from the far side of the table, snapping the tension. Ever a voice of reason in the group, he stared down his nose at Perch with deep-set eyes and a grim expression. "He's like a fucking predator or something. Everyone knows about it; we asked. He gets these young guys, wins them over with sex and whatever, and then just keeps using them until he gets bored...and then?" He kicked the leg of the table with a loud noise. "Cheers, thanks for nothing, time for a new toy. There's a whole fucking weird community of stallions like him. It's sick, honestly". Perch gaped at him. None of that was true. Daddy wasn't like that. He...well, maybe those other stallions, but not him, he...

Pietr leaned forward onto his arms, looking at Perch. "You're nothing but a toy to him, Percheron. A distraction to occupy him while he does whatever selfish things these freaks do with their lives. He's made you believe his bullshit, and it's fucking disgusting. You call him your daddy_?"_ His nose twitched, and his fingers drummed out his next words on the table top. "You. Have. Real. Parents. You remember them? By the way, like three months ago they got a box full of your stuff. Everything you had, the last time you went out. To that...club. They haven't heard a word from you since you shacked up with that...that..." The vole's whiskers jerked around in agitation, and he abandoned the sentence. "You don't go to uni anymore. You talk about the dumbest shit; tonight has been just painful. I mean, you've never been the sharpest dagger, Perch, but you're so fucking stupid now. What happened? Is he drugging you or some shit? He must be, because only a moron would honestly think he loves you--"

"He said you wouldn't understand." Perch's squeezed the words out through a throat that felt like it would never open again. "He does love me. It's..." It's complicated. It's not what you think. He should be able to come out and say it, but he couldn't. The vole's pronouncements had settled in alongside the twisting feeling in his guts, and together they were using his organs as timpani. He felt like throwing up. Pietr slapped a hand on the table in exasperation and looked at the others.

"Well, I tried. I told you, he's fucking brainwashed or something. Samantha, let's just call the police. It must be illegal or something--"

"NO!" Perch screamed, pushing back from the table violently. "Leave him alone! He loves me and I love him! You don't understand!" It was harder to make a bold statement when he shook like a leaf, but he did his best. "We're happy! It's..." He could not find the words, and scrabbled for purchase as the riptide threatened to pulled him back out. "_He takes _care of me and he...he..."

He might not love you at all.

The sly thought curled up from somewhere inside. He choked back a breath that threatened hyperventilation. His friends were looking at him with expressions ranging from sadness to simple contempt. Daddy did love him back! Perch said it all the time to him. And sure, he hadn't said it in return in as many words, but he said other things that sounded like love. Like when he called Perch a good little fuck-mare. Or...or when he said he had pretty clothes...or said he made nice dinner...

Perch stood as if frozen. Bees had filled his ears. It couldn't be true, it simply couldn't. Daddy -- Bucephalus -- was good to him. Kind! Mostly. He could be mean, he had a temper, but...Perch deserved that. He did. Because...he was hopeless and pathetic. Like Daddy told him on their first night together. He needed someone to take care of him, he did...

He only realised he was gabbling out loud when the buzzing in his ears faded, and he heard his friends.

"He needs fucking professional help, Samantha! That stallion has broken him! Listen to the shit he's saying--"

"Perch, honey, you need to take some time and really think about things, alright--"

"Oh yeah, soooo normal, wanting some million-year-old horse to say you're worthless--"

"Leave me alone!" Perch screamed. He was weeping, and his gut was agony. He desperately wanted to throw up, but he couldn't. Was he dying? Nobody could feel like this and survive. His vision blurred through the tears. Somebody was offering to help him, or offering a place to stay, he couldn't tell. He pushed the hands away and fled out of the bar, into the night. He didn't even pay attention to where he was going, running as fast as he could, dodging surprised pedestrians as best he could through blurred vision. When he finally slowed and took stock, he was in a park. He slumped onto a bench and wept for a while, hugging himself. Thoughts whirled and tormented him until the tears were gone -- along with the deceits.

And so here he was, trailing home, feeling as low as he'd ever felt in his life. It was as if every action of the last few months had been dragged out of its comfortable hidey-hole and thrown without regard into the light. He had cracked open the motivations of everything he'd done, and now he looked through them with dread. They painted a confused picture; some pieces didn't fit, but the ones that did were hard to look at. He forced himself to consider them all.

A lot of what his friends had said was wrong. In the raw emotion of the confrontation, it had all become jumbled and confused, but the illuminating power of a good long cry was not to be underestimated. His friends believed he was being taken advantage of, that Bucephalus was using him like a disposable equine cumrag. Perch didn't feel that way. When Bucephalus snarled into his ear, calling him a slut, a failure...it felt good. When Daddy put him down, it only emphasised how much more powerful the Friesian was compared to him, which ironically made him feel safe; protected. When he dressed up in his tight clothes, he felt pretty. He felt more him. How could he explain the complexities of that to someone? He didn't even properly understand it himself -- but he knew he didn't want any of it to end.

But, he also had to accept that the little voice inside him -- the voice of a smarter, more independent Perch, ignored for so long that he'd nearly forgotten it was there -- was right. He didn't know if Daddy loved him. But that didn't mean he was only using him like a toy. The big stallion was still mysterious to him, even after all their time together. He'd liked that about him, though, and it had made him less inclined to ask questions. The sorts of questions he was asking now, for example. Yet...Perch knew it wasn't that simple. It didn't only take three words to love someone. And if it didn't take three words, did it take any words at all? In Daddy's case, perhaps not. But Perch still needed to ask.

The reactions of his friends had allowed him to see what Daddy had meant when he had said that people wouldn't understand. Their relationship was outside what people knew, and when those people tried to cram it into a box, it deformed and looked like something monstrous. But seen through Perch's eyes, it was wonderful. He was happy; happier than he'd ever been before. He could feel that at the very core of his being, the way it vibrated with delight whenever he imagined his tall, handsome, sexy stallion. And wasn't that all that mattered? Two horses, finding happiness in what they'd made with one another. He belonged to Daddy, and Daddy belonged to him. He knew he loved Bucephalus, and Bucephalus...well, who knew what he thought?

Perch suddenly blinked, as understanding unfurled. That was it: it wasn't that he needed Daddy to say any specific thing to him. He simply wished to understand him better. He wanted to be an active participant in their relationship, not merely a dumb observer. Of course, that brought up another thing his friends were right about: to his shame, Perch was smarter than he'd been acting. He could see it now. It was just that, well, being smart was hard work. He hadn't told anyone, but university had been a real struggle for him; he'd secretly been relieved when Daddy told him to stop going. It wasn't that he didn't want to learn, it was only...Daddy was already so smart. Daddy knew all the things, so Perch didn't need to. It was one of the things he loved about him. Perch had gratefully embraced the opportunity to not have to think as much.

But in his puppy-like eagerness to satisfy the handsome Friesian, things had gone a little overboard. Not having to think had become not wanting to think. He would listen and nod when Daddy told him how he'd screwed some task up, and warned him not to do it again -- and then did the task himself. Flawlessly, of course. The pleasure of the humiliation was a constant low-level drug, and so he kept it coming. He'd drifted into a blissful fugue state of manufactured ignorance, where everything was childishly simple, where Daddy fixed all the problems and berated Perch in his wonderfully cutting manner for being incapable and stupid. And Perch allowed it, feeling -- and then acting -- ever dumber to give Daddy more room to fix things, and simply absorbing the escalating smarminess and disrespect. It was all that dumb Perch deserved, after all, right?

The cycle had spun on, wider and wider, as Perch's old nature sunk down, ignored, then covered and finally forgotten. He hadn't even noticed the point where he crossed the line from an adorably foolish stallion to a pitiful doormat. And Bucephalus? He hadn't even cared. He'd merely told him -- to his face! -- that he was a dumb fuck and he didn't need his brain. With his newfound clarity, it was both obvious and embarrassing. Perch felt miserable at what he'd let himself become. He'd wanted to be the beautiful princess that goes to live in the castle with the beast, to melt his heart and turn him into the prince she deserved. But maybe the beast was sometimes just a beast, and the princess was stupid and naive. Perhaps the princess deserved what she got.

Or...perhaps she needed to stand up to the beast.

The more Perch thought about things, the more the picture looked a little different. Daddy was dark and mysterious, and his body was heaven -- but he was also mean, and he took Perch for granted, and he didn't give him many compliments. And, sure, perhaps dumb Perch was a bit to blame for that...but that was going to change. Right now! Perch stamped a hoof on the pavement in emphasis. Yes! He was Daddy's son, not some random horse like Marcus who Daddy could treat like dirt all the time. He deserved respect -- except, um, during sex. Perch didn't want that to change. But sex was barely two or three hours out of the day; the rest of the time, he wanted more from him.

Perch's mind was on fire now, and he walked upright again, pulling up his jacket and putting it on. If he really thought about it, Daddy did actually take advantage of him. Not in the way his friends thought, though. Instead, he expected him to do all the housework and the shopping and...waaaait! Not expected; tricked! Perch wasn't completely sure how it amounted to a trick, but it must, because he ended up with all the boring work and all he got out of it was Daddy's cock. And sometimes new clothes. And quite a nice place to live, and they did go to that lovely hotel for a holiday the other day...but it wasn't worth everything he did for him! Well, probably not. Mostly not.

He reached the gates of the estate and looked up at the symbols adorning it. Daddy had been so friendly that first night. He'd said such nice things to Perch, even when he didn't know the answer to the question about the Greek thing. But that Daddy wasn't around much anymore. Perch heaved the gates open and stomped up the path to the house, formulating a plan in his head. He wasn't just some slut! Enjoying a good fuck and not being some sort of super-genius didn't instantly mean that was all he was good for! Daddy needed to start giving him some respect! Sure, Perch had been dumb, but he could smarten up again; Daddy needed to be better too.

He reached the house, and right before he knocked, he heard voices from inside. Belatedly, he remembered the dinner party. Daddy was going to be so mad at him! His ears drooped and he shrank away from the door, but then gritted his teeth. Daddy had told him how everyone would bend for a stallion, because stallions were always the masters. Well then. Time to be a stallion. He grabbed the handle and opened the door.

Inside, it was warm and smelled like people. The voices in the lounge petered off as the door hinges squeaked, and Perch gripped the door handle. His father's melodious voice drifted over to him. "Perch. Come in here, son." He may have sounded unbothered to anyone else, but Perch knew him well enough to hear the steel in the words; the hint of restrained fury that underpinned everything his adopted father did and said.

Be a stallion, Perch.

He shut the door and hung up his coat, deliberately taking his time. His heart was racing. Merely the idea of defying Bucephalus was scary, and here he was doing it. But he thought back to what he'd done to himself, the sort of horse he'd become to try to make him happy, and suddenly he was walking into the lounge, head held high. Relatively speaking; he was the shortest person there.

A few dessert dishes still sat on the weighty oak dining table. Chairs were pushed back, and the remaining guests all sat on the couches. Perch knew there had been at least ten guests due to attend, but only three remained now. To his left, a big, muscular lion with a black-streaked mane sat enjoying a brandy. Next to him, a lithe wolf -- in the brightest outfit Perch had ever seen, all yellows and pinks -- was carefully cleaning his teeth with a toothpick. Across from them sat a reindeer with a tremendous spread of antlers, around which Christmas lights were weaved. He glittered like city lights on a river. With arms spread in a relaxed pose, he occupied the entire couch.

And directly ahead, leaning casually against the lintel over the unlit fireplace, was Bucephalus. The looming horse had his arms crossed, and one hoof lifted to rest on the wall. His black fur melded into the dark stone of the chimney, making it seem as if his head was mounted to the wall. His mane was uncharacteristically tied back from his face, and his blue eyes regarded Perch without a hint of emotion. Perch looked straight back, meeting his gaze, ignoring the desire to look away; he hid a hand behind him and gripped it tightly instead. Bucephalus raised his eyebrows a little in surprise, but didn't say anything. For several seconds, the two stallions stared at one another, until there was a cough from the reindeer.

"So, this is the infamous son?" he said, with a Scandinavian lilt. He reached up to push aside some of the Christmas lights that were hanging down over his eyes. "I hear you were hot shit at the horsey club last month, little one. You and your daddy." He gave Bucephalus a lustful look.

Bucephalus shot the deer a piercing look when he broke the silence, and then flicked his eyes back to his son. "You're late, Perch. We've been waiting for you." He didn't even bother to ask if there was a good reason, Perch noticed. He did that a lot, expecting people to back down instantly when he challenged them. Meanwhile, the wolf dressed like a tropical drink was frowning.

"Wait...this is your son? But he's not--" He oofed and glared at the lion who had quickly elbowed him in the side. When the lion leaned over to whisper into his ear, he nodded in apparent understanding and shut up.

Perch squared his shoulders. "I was with my friends, remember? It was fun, so I stayed longer." Close enough, except for it being fun. He'd never know anyway; he didn't care about Perch's friends. "Was dinner nice?" he asked casually, walking around the couch to peer at the dishes left on the table. He stuck a finger into some custard and licked it off with a slurp. Bucephalus' eyes followed him with predatory fixation.

"Perch. Percheron. Look at me." Perch almost tripped up then; Daddy was using his extra-sexy voice. The one that he used when he wanted to turn Perch into jelly and make him beg for cock. But that was simply another way he tricked Perch. He wouldn't fall for it now. Instead, he stuck another finger into the custard and sucked it clean with an even louder noise. There was a snicker from the couch.

"You must discipline your slut, Bucephalus," the reindeer suggested. "He is, heh, off the leash?"

The big stallion pushed himself away from the wall and grabbed the reindeer's antlers in a swift motion that caught him by surprise; the cervine bleated unhappily and slapped at the hand.

"Call my son a slut again, Sven, and I'll break off your pretty antlers and stick them so far up that subby reindeer hole, the next time you try to make an adorable deer nugget it'll hurt more than the first time I fucked you," the horse said, in a tone that someone might have called bored if it wasn't threatening casual anal violence. Sven immediately looked down in deference and mumbled an apology. Perch blinked; Bucephalus was defending him? He was taken aback. He hadn't defended him since...well, since that night in Stud Farm, now he thought about it. The big stallion glanced over at him, and for a moment, Perch wondered if he had gotten everything about him wrong...

"And as for you, you pathetic little pony, if I tell you to be home on time, you fucking get home on time!" He pushed the reindeer away and clomped towards Perch. The hope died as quickly as it had been born, but Perch felt a new feeling rising up inside. Before he even had time to properly process it, he had taken some steps forward -- right up into Bucephalus' face -- and was yelling at him.

"I'm not pathetic! And I can do what I like! I'm an adult and you don't own me! I stood up for you today, but they were right! You're a mean person, and a bully, and...and you probably don't even love me, just like they said!"

If it had been colder, he would have sworn all the air in the room had flash-frozen. His father's face wore an expression Perch had never seen on him before: shock. He pressed his advantage.

"You don't know me! You don't appreciate all the things I do around here! You're mean, and you don't listen to me, and we only ever do what you want to do!" He had a feeling he was repeating himself, but he didn't want to lose momentum. He jabbed the Friesian in the chest with a finger.

"You make me do all the housework and keep putting me down when I do it a bit wrong! I'm not stupid, I'm -- I'm just a bit slow! But you made me feel so dumb, I actually was dumb! To try to make you happy! What about me?" Jab.

"You think you can just wave your dick at me and I'll do whatever you say! But I'm more than a slut!" He puffed out his chest. "I'm not going to let you control me anymore! This is the new Perch!"

He made to jab Bucephalus' chest one more time, but the horse's hand snapped out and grabbed his fingers. Perch shied away from the furious glare the other stallion was giving him, chest deflating. Bucephalus' other hand reached out to grab the back of Perch's neck and tightened. Perch made a small, scared noise; surely Daddy wouldn't hurt him...?

"The new Perch, huh?" came the sonorous riposte to his little outburst, like thunder writ small. "You've certainly given me a lot to think about there, son. Such incredible insights into your character. Such big ideas about what you deserve from me." He twisted Perch around and slid an arm around him, under his chin. His body pressed up against Perch's back, and his nose dropped down to be right next to Perch's ear as his voice lowered to a whisper, pitched below what the other guests could hear. "I know you, Perch, inside and out. But I didn't expect this of you. Rebellion? Oh, Percheron...you have surprised me, son. I like that very, very much." His tongue licked out along the edge of Perch's ear, and the little stallion shut his eyes tight to fend off a shudder. His heart was beating like crazy as Bucephalus spoke on. "I'll play along, if you will...but don't push your luck. You're not right about everything." It was hard to make sense of the situation; on the one hand, Bucephalus was taking this in a direction he hadn't expected, but loved. On the other, he didn't want to let his father off the hook merely because he said nice things now. But on the other other hand, this was turning into sex, and he did adore sex...

Be a stallion, Perch. Stallion! But it was proving hard to focus on being the stallion he wanted to be, when he could feel another stallion's hard erection growing against him. He fought a very brief internal battle and decided he could be a fucked stallion. His father was still speaking.

"For example: I know that you're a cock slut. Always have been, always will be. Maybe before you met me, you thought you could be more, but your nature is fixed in stone now. Maybe you've convinced yourself that you have an option, a choice to make, between me and...other things. But you don't." Perch could feel the heat of his cock through the clothes between them, and his own member began to stir in response. It was too difficult to resist. Bucephalus pushed gently against him. "I don't own you, Perch; you got that much right. And honestly, if you decided to walk out that door and never come back, I'd let you. But only because I don't need to stop you. I don't need to tie you up or ban you from going places. All I need to do is stand close to you, and you don't want to be anywhere else." Perch was forced to agree. "This is our reality," said Bucephalus. "And if you want to assert yourself within that, stand up for yourself, be a little more _stallion..._well. The resistance will make my inevitable domination of you all the sweeter, slut-stallion."

Perch tried to say You can't go and get all sexy and distract me, there's stuff I wanna talk about, but instead he said, "Hhhhuuuuhhh...". The idea of Daddy dominating him was the best thing imaginable. He wanted it immediately, even as he felt a bit ashamed at giving up so quickly. The feel of his father's body, and the idea of his control, filled him like lightning. But Daddy had also said he liked resistance. "I'm--I'm not a slut-stallion," he whimpered. "I'm Perch, and you're gonna treat me like I deserve, and love me and kiss me forever..." And fuck me hard and make me scream and give me daddy cock forever. His dick agreed, and the wet spot in his pants grew.

"Forever, eh? That's a long time, son," his father said with amusement. "But if you're not a slut-stallion, what are you? Hmmm..." He put his head on Perch's and hummed loudly. "Oh -- I think I know." The arm around him tightened some more. "You're a brat, princess. You complain, and make a fuss, and ask for things you don't deserve, and force me to show you why you should always bend to my will..." His father's voice was growing hoarse, and with delight, Perch realised he was becoming just as aroused by the situation as his son. The little stallion whetted his lips. He was really, really needing a dick now.

"I am a brat, Daddy," he said, putting some defiance into his voice -- but not too much. He didn't want to risk breaking the enchantment that had fallen over them. "That means you can't tell me what to do. I do what I want! Like, maybe I should fuck you...!"

His father nipped his ear and growled. "Shut the fuck up, brat," he rumbled. "Your little pony cock would barely satisfy Sven, let alone me." But his words held no real passion. The game was afoot. "Anyway, I don't need to tell you anything -- I can show you instead." He looked up at his guests, who were all ogling the two equines in their heated embrace. The wolf had a hand down his pants, his eyes fixed on Perch's damp bulge. The lion only stared at him, but a thin line of drool betrayed his inner thoughts. And the reindeer had gone ahead and unbuttoned his pants, and was stroking his thick, uncut cock. Bucephalus nodded to him. "Sven, you dumb shit. Come here and give my son a blowjob to say sorry for calling him a slut."

Sven grinned, standing up and beginning to undress. "I wondered when we get to the evening entertainment," he said. Perch's eyes widened as more muscle and fur was revealed until the antlered stud stood naked. He was tall, and his fur was as pale as snow. He winked at the young stallion and flexed, a near-perfect example of masculinity. Powerful arms and thighs bulged as he stretched. The front of his muzzle was a little darker than the rest of his fur and split by a broad smile. His neck was surrounded by a ruff of dark grey fur, which ran down between his pecs and across his belly, joining up with a similar tuft right above his crotch. His balls were bulbous and covered in fine fur, even whiter than the rest of him. But it was the cock that Perch's eyes were glued to: meaty and long, it was wrapped in a generous foreskin that only let the very end peek out. Perch had never seen an uncut penis before; most species didn't have a foreskin to start with. It was so foreign to him, and he was eager to inspect it more closely.

The buck noticed his stare and correctly guessed the reason. "You have never seen an uncut member?" he asked. He reached down to fondle it, pulling the foreskin back and letting the glans pop out, pink and glistening, squeezing the thick girth to make it swell a little. Perch could smell it even at a distance, and it made his mouth water. Bucephalus was less impressed.

"Stop teasing him with your freaky Euro-cock and get on your knees, Sven," the big stallion said, still holding Perch tightly with the arm around him -- not that Perch was making any attempt to get away. The reindeer chuckled and rubbed his hands together. "I warm them up for you," he said cheerfully. Then he pulled down Perch's pants, exposing his cock, which knew what it liked and was already thickening. Sven tugged it out and held it in his spread hands, like a votive offering.

"I am always jealous of a horse. The cock of the gods." He sniffed along the length, then licked it, from root to tip. His eyes closed and he gave a breathy sigh that tickled the sensitive flesh, and Perch squirmed a little. "Sorry, horse-god," he said. "You taste too good." Horse-god. Perch quite liked that. Perhaps Daddy should learn a few things from this reindeer.

Sven prodded at Perch's sheath with his soft nose, licking gently amongst the folds and repeating his exclamations of adoration and joy. "All of you is beautiful, horse," he murmured. "You will cum in my throat?" Perch had no idea what to answer, so he nodded; that seemed to satisfy Sven. He lifted Perch's cock up and rested the flare against his forehead, anointing himself with pre-cum, before opening his mouth and pushing almost the entire cock down his throat at once. Perch's cry at the amazing feel of being deep-throated complemented the choked noises the reindeer made, as the thick cock filled his oesophagus. Perch instinctively tried to thrust, but his father's arm across his upper chest held him still. Behind his head, Bucephalus chuckled.

"Sven is a complete slut for horses, son. He'll do anything to get some horse cock in him. Anything. But let him do all the work; he likes it that way." He peered over Perch's shoulder at the reindeer's head, sliding back and forth and making gagging noises whenever the flare dipped deep. "Hear that? He can barely fit you in his greedy maw, the cock-whore, but he can't help himself. You should hear him try to fit me." His voice dripped with satisfaction. "It's hot, isn't it son? Watching a stud like that make himself a willing receptacle for horse dick. He knows that we are his masters." Perch felt his father's cock twitch against him, presumably at the memory of slutty reindeer mouth, and he whimpered. It was hot; Perch had never experienced things from his father's point of view before. It made him feel powerful. Was this a gift he got for getting Daddy hot and horny with his bratty behaviour?

"Come on, Sven," said the Friesian archly. "I can still see some dick outside your throat. Do a proper job, and maybe I'll have him fuck your cute hole as well." Perch's face flushed as his father casually talked about making him fuck other people. He'd never considered that before.

The reindeer looked up at the two of them in adoration. He fixed his eyes on Bucephalus as he stopped merely mildly face-fucking himself with the young stallion's dick, and instead tried to fit it inside him fully. Perch felt his flesh gripped tightly by the throat, his flare pulsing with pleasure, and watched in awe as the last few inches of his rod were swallowed by the cervine. The deer's eyes ran with tears, and his face quivered with the effort of pulling in scraps of air from his wide-open nostrils. But he did not back down until his lips kissed Perch's sheath, and then he held himself there, eyes still looking up with pathetic need.

Perch's eyes fluttered. He was rock hard, and pumping squirts of precum into the reindeer. This was so hot. He shut his eyes to better take it in and took a deep breath. Wait...he opened his eyes again, looking up. Over by the couches, overlooked until he smelled them, the wolf and the lion were enjoying the little show in their own way. They had moved to face the other three, and both had pulled down their pants. The lion was mewling gently, his eyes fixed on Perch's face with a dangerous look that sent a thrill of fear through the little horse. This was a true predator, and the thought of his domination was terribly exciting. The wolf sat next to him, gripping both his own cock and the lion's, and stroking them both. Perch watched his hand play deftly across his knot, pulling at it and stroking the shaft in a complex pattern entirely unlike what Perch did with his own cock. The lion's cock, meanwhile, was soaking; precum ran in a stream from the tip and wetted everything that touched it. There were little spikes on the shaft; Perch wondered how the lion would retract them to not make sex painful. The wolf seemed to know what he was doing, though, stimulating the lion in just the right way. Their scents mingled in the air into a musk that signalled raw, animal sexuality. It was amazing. It took Bucephalus' voice to drag Perch's attention away.

"Very good boy, Sven. You never disappoint. Perch, how does that feel?" He slid his arm out from under Perch's neck, and his hands gripped his son's shoulders, gently massaging them. Perch didn't even try to respond; between the blowjob, the sight and smell of the masturbating furs, and the feel of his father's peerless body pressing against him, he was utterly overwhelmed. "I know...it feels glorious," the stallion said, squeezing along his son's neck. "That tight throat all around your cock, warming it, squeezing against it..." He fell silent for a moment, lost in a memory. "But, Sven's being so nice and kind to you, son, so you need to say thank you. Always say thank you." He put a finger to Perch's lips, anticipating him actually trying to say thank you, and tsked. "No, no, princess, that's not how a horse thanks a friend. We thank them with the other thing they can only get from a horse, isn't that right, Sven?" Sven somehow managed a curt nod, despite the many inches of hard stallion meat holding his head fixed in position. "Yes, oh yes. They want to taste us, and we will...allow it, won't we, son?" The big stallion was rubbing his cock against Perch's back as he spoke, and Perch was torn between focusing on that feeling, or the one in front. His breathing, long since hard and fast, became a series of whimpers as he felt his balls rise up. Then his father's muzzle slid right next to his, their fur catching gently against one another.

"Give your reward, son" he said. "Fill that greedy throat." The breathy vowels and rumbling consonants played along Perch's already overstimulated senses, and he gave in. As his legs shuddered and almost buckled, he grabbed the reindeer's antlers for support, and the submissive hoofer grunted. "Mark him as yours," his father continued to urge. "Make him a stallion's bitch." Perch's whimpers went up in tone, and as they crested in a squeal of bliss, he came. He felt the hot liquid flowing through his cock and spraying into the reindeer with powerful bursts, each one a tiny explosion in his mind. He couldn't help himself; gripping the antlers, he pushed forward, trying to get deeper inside that perfect, inviting hole. With an upturned face and high-pitched squeals, Perch thrust uselessly into a maw that already held his whole member, emptying himself inside it. His cock throbbed and his expanded flare was a swollen bulge in the deer's neck; his eyes were shut and his arms hung limp, letting the stallion use him as he wished.

When the rush ended, and mundane feeling returned, it took Perch a moment to feel his father tapping his shoulder. "Pull out of him, son. Nobody can breathe that well past a swollen flare."

Perch gasped and released the antlers, pulling out quickly, sending a good helping of his semen splattering all over him and the deer when his flare popped out like a giant scoop. The deer gasped, heaving for air, his muscles quivering. Perch was afraid he'd injured him, until the reindeer looked up with euphoria. "Thank you, horse-god," he said, and pulled Perch's hanging cock closer to lick it clean of the cum staining it and rub it over his face, bleating happily.

"Told you," said Bucephalus with a smirk. "Anything horse, and Sven is there. He's going to spend the next month fucking himself with his horse dildos and dreaming about this, Perch. Does that make you feel good, princess?" It did, and Perch nodded happily. Daddy was being so nice to him! He was going to be better, Perch was certain. He was...was...his arm was...

Perch gripped his father's muscled arm, which had tightened to an uncomfortable degree against Perch's neck again. "D--Daddy...too tiiight..." he whimpered. His fingers dug into the muscles, trying to pull the arm away. The much larger horse easily resisted him, and for the first time since he'd watched the tall Friesian approaching him in the club after assaulting someone, Perch felt real fear. The evening was taking a new turn.