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"You agreed to it Morgan. So take it like a stallion, instead of a whiny little asshole, will ya?"

I looked over at Hank, my employer and, at the moment, unlikely saviour. The big bull had a huge grin on his muzzle, even if the words seemed a bit fierce. He was playing with me, the asshole. But I guess I deserved it. He took another long drag on his cigar, the end glowing red as he savoured the flavours. At least he seemed in a better mood. Maybe that would save me.

Nah, I was pretty well fucked.

"You got everything set there Arn?"

The bar manager, my supervisor, gave his boss and lover a feral grin and nodded. An impressive effort for a bull; the two were like twins, though not related. Both huge, brown furred, musclebound with big bellies and a shiteating grin on their muzzles and a look of pure fucking malevolent glee in their big brown eyes. I was so, so fucked.

"Right as rain Hank. The crowd are all in, and eager for tonight's performance."

They both chuckled, the sound like a low rumbling moo, like a stampede in a cattleyard. I felt my ears flatten on my skull. How the fuck had I gotten myself into this?

Girls. I blamed it on the girls.

I had been desperate for a job, any job really, to get me through my senior year of College with enough money for beer and my car. That would be a win, I thought. But the job market was tight, and the café I had worked at last year had shut its doors. Then a guy in my class told me about the opening at The Saloon. I was twenty-one at least, so I could do it, but I had laughed it off at first. Working the bar at a gay club? Not that there's anything wrong with that, but I'm a straight stallion. Very, happily, straight. That tends to be the way it is in Tennessee, where I'm from. I didn't think I would like working there.

But when I struggled to get interviews, I decided to see how I would go. I could feel the owner's eyes on me in the interview, and I just gave him a blank look back. Then his offsider, the bar manager, gave me a big bovine grin and slapped me on the shoulder.

"You are alright colt. You don't seem to be shitting yourself at all. So, when can you start?"

I got to know the owner, Hank, and my supervisor, Arnold, pretty well and they were good enough guys, I guess. For bovines; I had a bit of a wary sense when it came to bulls, my biggest rival in Highschool on the wrestling team had been a bull and he was a mean asskicking motherfucker. I managed to get Dereck under control, not before much suffering, but he proved not half bad in the end, even letting me go out with his sister. Now that cow, she could fuck all right. Turned out Dereck just wanted her to stop her bitching to him about everything, and my horsercock did the trick right as rain.

They were pretty good about not checking me out too obviously mostly, which I appreciated. They showed me the uniform when I accepted the job, and made sure I had privacy to change. It felt good going on too. An embroidered cowboy shirt, jeans, and a heavy belt with a buckle with the bar's logo on it. At least I didn't feel like a total faker; I grew up on a ranch in Tennessee, and I knew my way around a horse. I know, I know, equine and all, but working with horses was second nature for us country types, and I could ride before I could run myself almost. I did miss my horse, down here in the city, and loved the chance to ride whenever I got to go home, though that was, come to think of it, increasingly rare. I was becoming a city stallion, by stealth.

The clothes felt good going on, the jeans especially accentuating my rump. I had a killer butt; I was good everywhere, typical quarter horse cross there. I had a bit of Friesian in me, enough for some wicked black feathers and a long silken black mane, but also it gave me an extra edge in bulk. I wasn't that tall but fuck I had broad shoulders and hips and plenty of muscle. I had power to burn, and when I wrestled, nobody could beat me on the mat.

I knew my whole body was something else, but my ass was dynamite. Six foot three, a hundred ninety pounds at my fighting weight, I looked shorter than I was because I had such broad shoulders and hips. I was low to the ground, low centre of gravity as you needed for my sport. My balls hung low and heavy too in typical stallion fashion, and they packed into my wrestling uniform so nice leaving a fat, obvious bulge that showed off my assets in a totally acceptable way for the nice midwestern folks who frequented such events.

I was also built like a motherfucking tank, and had been since my youth, but managed to make people like me rather than see me as a threat. Under my unruly forelock of black mane I had a pair of big brown eyes that just radiated sincerity. Girls fell for it all the time. Fuck, even their mothers fell for it. I was a nice colt; at least in theory. In practice, I had more pussy than you could poke a stick at, including some of those girls' mothers.

I was on the varsity wrestling team, and keeping the weight meant my whole body was ripped but I had an especially big, powerful butt that gave me the drive I needed on the mat. The jeans I wore for work hugged my ass so fine, and I saw Hank and Arn checking me out when I came out of the changing room that first day. They both smiled then, their eyes on my rump, and on my cotch, but they didn't linger when they saw I had noticed, and we shared a little laugh. I knew, and they knew I knew, but we were all ok. Buds. I felt good about myself, being cool with it and all.

I knew the guys who went to the club would check me out, and Hank and Arn had warned me about it but I was too busy working to notice too much. And when they did, I have to admit, I kind of liked it. I knew I was pretty good looking, hell, I knew I was that and more. Hank basically admitted he had hired me for the eye candy, and the fact I was straight sealed the deal. He liked his customers having the chance to eye up a straight country colt College jock and imagine whatever they liked. I would just smile back when I saw them checking me out and give them a wave.

Well, they were about to see me in a way I really had bargained on, that was for sure.

"Well Morgan, can't keep your audience waiting can we."

I sighed.

Girls. Yeah, it was all down to the girls.

I had plenty of girls angling for some of my time before; after all, I was a College jock and a varsity wrestler even in my Junior year. I knew how to look after a lady, in and out of bed, and I was easy on the eye. But for some reason, once I started working at The Saloon, I had more girl action than I could take. They seemed to think I was somehow more intriguing, I guess. And the one I fell for, Sandra, intrigued me as much as I intrigued her.

We met at a party, a birthday for one of her friends who was in my Politics class. I knew of her through friends, a beautiful but waif waisted lioness who oozed sophistication, she was the daughter of some rich guy who had endowed the College with enough to get a building named after him. She made a beeline for me, and I saw her checking me out. In my experience girls weren't that obvious, at least not as obvious as the guys at the club , but she was and she didn't mind that I saw. She stared at my ass, and then my package, while I got her a beer even though I knew she wasn't supposed to have one as she was a Junior and only 20. She struck up a conversation, and we were hitting it off real good. And then she looked at the beer, and frowned.

"Pity there isn't anything stronger at this party. I could go a whisky bad. What about you Morgan, have you got a secret stash somewhere?"

That was how it started, just innocent like. I told her I worked at a club, and one of my friends told them what sort of club, which drew a few catcalls, but Sandra didn't seem to mind. She was more interested in other things.

"Well then Morgan, you should be able to get a lady a proper drink. Or are you more colt than stallion?"

I knew I could just go to the local liquor store and buy some cheap stuff. But Sandra had me in her sights, and she told me how much she liked real, proper whisky. I knew we had some good stuff at the club; Hank was a bit of a connoisseur and a few of our customers really liked the hard-core stuff. We had bottles from all over the world. And the club was only a couple of blocks away.

"You are such a gentlecolt Morgan...I just knew it."

That first time, I got a bottle of Ardberg from the store. I told Arn I had misplaced my student ID and thought it might have dropped from my pocket in the storeroom. He just waved me away. I was notorious for losing my stuff, they were used to it. I slipped the bottle into my gym bag and waved my ID at him on the way out with a triumphant look. The whisky tasted every bit as good as she said; I knew how much we sold it for on the bar, and I knew I couldn't afford a bottle of it with my salary. I promised myself I would look into what the wholesale price was and put it in the till. But somehow I never did.

Soon we were having parties with her rich friends, all under 21, and I was providing the booze. Gin, whisky, rum, cognac. I picked up all kinds of bottles, all good stuff that the guys who knew what they wanted came to Arn for at the bar. He had the ready stock in a special cabinet, and I watched him pouring shots and burned a little inside knowing I really had an awful large bill to pay sometime, but it never quite happened. Of course, Sandra liked jewellery too, and I bought her a pair of sapphire earrings with the money I did have, and she was so damn pleased. She even gave me a blowjob that night, and my dick almost melted from the heat of her tight lips on my twelve-inch stallion meat. She even teased my flare with her incisors; that made me leak something fierce.

Of course, I knew it couldn't last. Or I should have, anyway. Then came the day, yesterday, when Hank called me into the office before my shift. I knew what might be coming when I saw Arn in there too, and I had my defence all lined up right up to the moment he turned the screen on his laptop round to show a still picture from the storeroom.

"Been having some issues Morgan. Some stock issues; bottles of stuff going missing from the stores. Arn here did a stocktake, made a list and checked it twice like Santa, and it just didn't add up. So we put in a hidden CC TV. Now, what do you think we saw? Would you like me to hit play, Morgan?"

I cried like a little filly, I hate to admit, though part of it was for show, trying to get them to take it easy. I knew it was wrong, heck I knew I was fucked. I thought I was going to get fired, then came the bombshell.

"By my reckoning Morgan, that's almost three dozen bottles gone. Do you know how much they were worth?"

"I know it's a lot Hank. I promise, I'll make it up, you can hold back some of my pay and all and..."

"Almost ten thousand dollars Morgan. That's grand larceny boy. Felony territory. You will be lucky not to go inside kid."

I cried for real then. This could not be happening.

Then Arn put the proposition to me, all reasonable like. I really couldn't refuse, and they even offered to let me keep my job. Hank felt I would learn my lesson and be a good horse from then on. I sure would. I just had to get through this.

Hank's low rumbling voice cut into my thoughts. He sounded like an angry motherfucker did Hank, and he looked like one too. Tall, taller than me, but a fuckload bigger, with a broad chest, a thick musclegut and a heavy beard shot through with grey like his buzz cut headfur. He had one horn broken off, and had angle ground it to a nice clean surface, and the asymmetry always intrigued me. He didn't seem to give a fuck, and had painted a tribal design on his horns in black.

His eyes were almost black now too, looking at me, and right now, they were staring into mine with some sort of twinkle. I knew he was enjoying this, he was smoking a cigar and he kept that for special occasions.

"Now Morgan, remember. We decide what happens, ok? You are just in for the ride boy. And boy is it going to be some ride."

I swallowed nodding and felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah, he will be a good colt, won't you Morgan?"

I turned to see Arn. He was big too, muscled but leaner, his pecs standing out under his shirt. Younger than Hank, Arn was about forty where Hank was fifty-five, and he kept in shape. We had gone to the gym together a couple of times, and I had seen how much he lifted. He kept his head fur long and tied in a ponytail, and had a little chin tuft that was as black as his heart appeared right now. He was pretty impressive, I had to admit, and I had to notice he was packing some heat in his workout shorts. The bulge was more obvious than normal though, and I blushed a bit as I caught sight of it. He saw me looking and grinned his most feral grin.

"Time enough for that later colt. Its time for your package to get some attention soon enough."

I almost bolted at that comment, but I felt the two bulls grab me by one shoulder each and lead me into the main room of the bar.

The crowd was huge. I saw so many guys, lots of regulars I recognised, and when they saw me come out flanked by the two guys, a huge cheer went up that made my ears flatten and my muzzle burn with shame. I felt flushed, and almost tripped over my hooves but the iron grip of my employer and my boss kept me going in a straight line to my place of destiny. I eyed up the fucking stupid thing and scowled like I usually did. Thinking about it helped keep me from losing the ability to stand upright.

The bar had a whole western theme going on, hence the name The Saloon. Our uniforms were only one part of the picture. There were plenty of cattle skulls and horns and shit all over the walls, and saddles and bridles and shit. I knew there was plenty of leather out in the back rooms too, and the riding crops and bridles had other uses too I never wanted to see, but there was plenty in the main room here to set the scene.

Right in the middle of the main floor though was a mechanical bull, just like a rodeo. It had fake fur all over it and a saddle and all, and it could buck like a champ. I had been a junior rodeo rider back in Tennessee, and one night I had been goaded into riding the fucking thing by a few of the regulars. They promised me tips, and I couldn't resist, and besides, I liked showing off. I managed to hang on the ten seconds they asked, and I got a huge cheer and lots of back slaps and a few slaps on the ass too, and a nice fat tip in my pocket to spend on Sandra and her bottomless needs. I liked the looks of admiration most though, if I'm being honest.

Now I saw it had a few modifications though, and they made me shake just a bit.

The guys stopped me short of the bull though, and the audience crowded round. The light was low, as always, and normally in the semi dark, there would be a lot going on, guys eyeing each other up, a quick crotch grab, or not so quick. But tonight, every eye was on me. And all the guys were smiling, and giving me wolf whistles, and they all held little squares of coloured paper. I turned to Arn and asked with my eyes. He just gave me a beaming smile and nodded.

"Raffle tickets. We made tonight a special event, regulars only, paid entry for a special show. And everyone gets a raffle ticket. We will draw out winners, and each winner gets a special treat. You will like it Morg, honest. If someone is too hard on you, well, at least you will get someone else soon enough."

He said it loud enough to be heard by everyone in the first row, and that drew a huge gale of laughter, and another when he patted my rump almost lovingly. I clenched my butt at that, knowing what was to come. Everyone else did too it seemed, as they started telling me about it in no uncertain fashion.

"Hey Arn, leave some of that ass for me!"

"Hey Arn, I know there's a bullwhip out the back, if I buy a round for everyone, can I use it on the colt?"

"Hey kid, hope you got that cute ass of yours nice and flexible!"

I dropped my head as they all got into it, my cheeks burning. This was the deal; I was going to be naked over the bull, and the customers would get a shot at my junk. I know Hank and Arn said if someone made me cum, they got to do whatever they wanted, but I swallowed and pushed that out of my mind. If there was one thing I learned with all the girls it was control. None of these guys would be able to make me lose my load. And compared to what might have been, I knew I was lucky.

Still, I felt my tailhole clench anyway. Fuck.

"Right, time for the first draw."

I turned to Hank now, as the audience quieted a little. Everyone was hushed as he reached into a box and pulled out a ticket, blue by the looks.

"I have B twenty-two!"

"YESSSSS!"

There was a big cheer, and a few groans, and a lot of clapping as the first winner came forward. I let out a slight gasp. It was Dave, a smallish and slightly effeminate fox about thirty. Not who I really wanted, but still, how bad could it be?

"Congratulations on our first winner. Your prize is the right to undress our stud. I want him naked, but please; feel free to take your time."

I heard the words, not quite believing, as the crowd erupted in cheers and Dave broke out in the biggest foxy grin you ever saw, his whiskers positively twitching. I turned to Hank and almost pleaded.

"Hank, you never said anything about that!"

His placid bovine face looked as dark and unmoved as a fucking Easter Island statue, and he chomped on his cigar for a moment before pulling it out and giving me a look of contempt.

"Colt, I told you, this goes how we want it, not you. You want to pull out now? Make me call the cops?"

"No...but...fuck man...why..."

A smile crossed his face, one that reached his eyes. I felt my heart drop to my stomach. Yeah, that was part of the plan all right. I began to realise just how fucked I truly was now. I had this bull by the tail, and I daren't let go.

Hand and Arn had insisted I wear my uniform, and I knew plenty of the patrons had probably mentally undressed me at times. Well, now they were going to do it for real, and the giggling Dave was going to have the honour of disrobing me, and touching me up however much he liked. The shaking began to get worse I knew, and I tried to stand there looking defiant but that's hard with a couple hundred guys staring at you waiting for you to be naked and tied down right there in front of them.

Dave sidled up to me, eyes sparkling, and kissed me on the chest. I almost recoiled.

"Don't worry Morgan, I will be gentle."

That made everyone laugh, and I just blushed like a little foal as I felt his hands on my shirt as he began undoing the buttons.

I was determined not to appear like a total loser though, and at least I knew I had something to be proud of. Whether it was for the girls at one of Sandra's pool parties, or the guys here, I at least knew my body was worth looking at. So I was spared the embarrassment of anyone judging me, I just wasn't really looking forward to a couple hundred gay guys eyeing off my assets.

When he peeled off my shirt and handed it to Arn, the feeling in the room was electric. Everyone was staring at my chest, and I got a big round of applause then. I had just had a tournament last week, so I was at my fighting weight and as ripped as I was going to be. My chestnut coat accentuated my definition nicely and I knew every muscle would be on show, and even in the heat of the Saloon, I felt my nipples harden and tingle, and my abs clenched in response. I had a full eight pack, and I could see many eyes counting and coming up with the answer they liked. I tried to block out their words, but I could read their lips, and at least I knew they were admiring.

When I felt hands down low though and saw Dave kneeling as he took off my hoofboots, I knew my resolve wouldn't last long. And sure enough as he undid my belt, and popped the buttons on my 501's, and I felt fingers hook into the waistband, I closed my eyes and swallowed hard.

He took my jeans down first, and as each inch of my groin and thighs came into view, I heard the roar build. I was wearing Aussiebum briefs, white, and I knew they cupped my package just right. What I wasn't counting on though was the effect of the guys staring at me in my briefs alone. As Dave pulled the jeans off my hooves, his hands on my feathering making me lift one then the other, I felt my cock stirring in my sheath. I tried to will it to stop, but instead all I could think of was Sandra at the last pool party, sitting on the edge of the pool while I stood in the water and sank into her cunt with my tail swishing high while some of the others watched and shouted encouragement. I got plenty of encouragement here too, and the comments made me want to shrivel up and die, but that was the last thing my cock was doing. I looked down and saw the round mass of my swelling flare pressed to the fabric and then saw a pair of hands reach under the elastic, and a face covered in a Cheshire fucking cat grin, as the asshole fox pulled the waistband over my straining semi dropped cock and down exposing my length which suddenly flopped out and began to rise.

The cheer was almost loud enough to raise the roof. I reached down to cover my groin, but that was a bad idea. I heard a swish and felt a roasting pain on my rump and let out a whinny of pain and gripped by battered butt cheek. Turning to Hank, I caught a glimpse of Arn holding a riding crop. My eyes went wide with fear just as I heard Hank whisper.

"No covering up colt. That's what the audience paid for, and by the way, their entry fees paid off your debt to us. So stick your hands on your head like a fucking naughty colt standing in the corner and stop trying to fight it stud."

I did what he said, trying to stare into space as my briefs came off over my hooves and I stood, naked in front of two hundred gay guys who were eyeing up every part of me like I was a fucking lollypop in the candy store. My tail was plastered down my butt crack now, fat load of good it would do, but it didn't get the memo.

"Right, next winner is ticket...A... forty-seven!"

I was a little disoriented now, the heat and the emotion taking a toll. I wasn't ready for what might happen next, so I was surprised when a bowl of water appeared, and a towel, and a box containing some soap. I looked on, not understanding, as the next winner came forward, a big bear that looked a lot like Hank but older, around sixty. Corbin, I think. He liked India Pale Ale and talking about football.

"Need to have you nice and clean Morg. Don't want any of our customers getting messy...well, unless that's from you losing your load, hey?"

I whinnied at that, but at least it was better than other things they might have done. I crossed my arms in front of my chest and gave a stare at Arn. He frowned back in ways that made my mane tingle.

"So, you are going to be cleaned you are going to be clipped and shaved so your beautiful stallion parts are as soft and smooth as anything. Then you are going to be rinsed off a real special way. Over to you Corbin."

I must not have heard him, I thought. Clipped? Shaved? I didn't have a beard or anything...

I didn't realise what was going on until I felt a hand on my heavy scrotum. I almost screamed then, and I felt hands grip my wrists to keep my hands on my head as I stared down in horror.

"That's right colt. Oh, we aren't going to geld you. That would be a shame hehe, but you are going to lose your pubes so you look like a little colt. Maybe your girl will like you this way, I dunno. I know I will like you this way. Might make that fucking huge piece of meat you have seem even bigger. You might like it."

"No Hank, please!"

I got a slap to the cheek with the riding crop, just soft, but enough. No horse can ignore that, we are hardwired. It was so fucking embarrassing how much I could be cowed by that thing, and my dad used it to good effect on me when I was a rebellious shit growing up. I was beginning to cry now, as I felt shaving cream lathered on my crotch. All over my scrotum, and my cock swung free achingly hard and needy. My balls tingled at the touch, and my belly felt a sudden pang as hands lathered up my sack and my bush of curly black pubes. I hated losing them, I loved letting them peek above my training shorts on the beach or going for a run, hinting at what was below. Chicks loved staring there.

I saw the shaver and felt it touch my skin and then the glide over flesh, my bush first, and then, as I gave a little shudder and whimper, the blade slid over my balls and even, as a grinning Corbin hefted my sack, just under to remove all my soft dark curly hairs.

The cheers as I was presented shaved to the crowd were raucous, like a crowd at a rodeo. And for the first time, I saw guys with hardons, their groins tented out, some obviously massaging their bulges with their hands. I caught sight of one and swallowed hard. It was Doctor Morrison, one of my lecturers in Poli Sci at College. The bear hated me as a student, but when he was here he was always nice. I big guy with broad shoulders and a thick belly, I had run into him at the College gym a couple of times, and I knew he was built under there. He was eyeing me up with obvious hunger, and I saw his fat short cock was pressed to his groin and he had the fly open with the head poking out glistening in the low light of the club. He saw me looking, and winked. I turned away with a whinny as I felt hands on my hips.

"Now Corbin gets to make you nice and special clean colt."

I screamed then, I couldn't help it. The answering cheer was enough to raise the roof.

The bear opened his muzzle wide and licked all over my groin. He removed the last traces of shaving cream and the little curly pubes left behind, and smothered my ball sack and my shaft with saliva, lavishing his attention on my cock until my flare disappeared into his muzzle and I saw glistening teeth oh way too close to sensitive flesh.

I wanted to bolt but his paws gripped my hips tight and claws dug into my muscle and I froze as his lips slowly, so slowly, slid down my length.

Within a minute I was on the edge, my cock dripping, my tail high. I gritted my teeth and tried to concentrate on not losing it, even as the cheers and cries from the crowd broke into my consciousness and made me open my eyes and look around at the baying mob staring at my unwanted blowjob their own cocks close to bursting.

Mercifully the end came before my end came, but I was left naked, shaved, panting, and with an obvious dripping trail of precum oozing from my urethra much to everyones amusement. Corbin got to lick it off and slobber all over my tip again. I nickered in frustration.

"Now time to tie you down Morgan."

The implacable hands ushered me forward to my doom, and I took in the mechanical bull then. Artificial hide, brown like Hank and Arn, but the saddle had been removed. And a few additions; on the ground, near the anchor points, someone had welded restraints. A pair on each side, with leather straps. I stood where I was told and waited.

"Right, our next winner is ticket C eleven. Come on down!"

A tall guy, a stag about thirty, tall about six six. He liked the back room, and always ordered a double bourbon before he headed off and gave me a wink and a smile. Mike, I think; according to Arn, he loved rimming, and would eat a dozen asses in a row if given a chance, but always with the taste of bourbon.

"Well, you get a special prize. You get to restrain our reluctant stud, and then you get to finish his preparation and take a souvenir."

Finish???

"Wait, what..."

Nobody was listening though. I felt my shoulders suddenly pulled down, and I was bent over the bull lengthwise. I felt my belly on the artificial hide, and worst of all, my thighs and then, my cock rubbing on it too. I realised the thing now resembled a breeding dummy, but there was no AV for me. I tried to struggle but it only rubbed the harsh hide against my coat and my swollen nipples, and my twitching cock. It rasped, but not painfully enough to make it go down. Instead it felt tingly, like a fingertip on my head. Sam liked to do that to me when we went out, reach under the table and inside my jeans and tease my cockhead with her dextrous paw and tease my urethra with a claw until I had to have her in the bathroom. The bull, like the two assholes who owned it, was showing no mercy though, being just metal and leather and fake fur. I tried to move to stop my cock rubbing but Mike was busy down low, and I felt first my ankles and then my wrists shackled to the ground. I was bent double, helpless, my ass naked and exposed, and I never felt more vulnerable in my life.

The guys stood back, and then Mike did his worst, pulling my poor tail up high and stretching my taint. I whinnied in horror and the crowd voiced its approval. I felt sweat trickling down my ass cheek as the comments came thick and fast. I realised my ass would be on show, and not just my cheeks. My ankles were spread wide, and I knew my tailhole would be visible as well as the back of my scrotum and my hardon. I wanted to die.

"Fuck check out that ass..."

"I would bury my face between those cheeks and never come out..."

"I'd wrestle those cheeks with my tongue College boy."

"Take a look at that pucker! So tight...can you imagine sliding your tongue into that?"

"Tongue? What about my cock..."

"That is as close to perfection as it comes dude. Straight College stud asshole. So sweet..."

"How much lube would it take to get into that ass? I'd need a gallon at least..."

I heard them all, trying not to, goosebumps forming under my coat, staring at the floor. I tried to close my cheeks but it was useless. I felt a hand on my ass, stroking slowly over my cheeks, and I let out a groan.

"Now for the rest of the preparation."

I had no idea what was coming until I felt the heat of warm breath on my cheeks, and then, as I tried to fight free of my bonds, into my crack. I tried to say no, but nobody could hear over the roar from the audience as my cleft was spread wide, and Mike took the opportunity to slide his muzzle in deep and lick my taint from the back of my scrotum to my virgin tailhole.

I struggled, I begged, and all the time the crowd went wild. And yet my body responded, my stallion cock leaking a constant stream of pre onto the rough wooden floor. Then I felt fingers in there, pressed to my asshole, and I whimpered as I felt my pucker spread and I screamed out a whinny.

Suddenly the heat left me, and I looked back to see Hank holding the startled stag by the antlers, his muzzle set in a firm line of anger.

"Can it asshole. No penetration, just licking. Or you lose your turn."

I was grateful, but also horrified to feel the tingle inside me from his breath felt good. I wanted it back.

His tongue slid over my taint and the back of my scrotum and then, building the tingle to a fire, over my hole again I didn't know what I looked like there, but now two hundred gay guys did as they moved around my prone body to take in the view of me helpless like that, having the wildest first rimming imaginable and then when Mike was done, he held my cheeks wide apart and most lingered staring at my wide open ass for a long time. I saw their boots shuffling around from my position staring at the floor and tried to close my eyes and will it all away. The comments made me feel hot though and combined with the heat in my hole from where I had been touched, I knew my cock was on red alert.

I felt a towel, sliding over my cheeks removing the last of the shaving cream and saliva, and then into my cleft. It lingered, lovingly soothing me, and then just touching my cock. I yelled as the fabric rubbed over my swollen head. I was big, hey I was a stallion after all and with girls I was proud of it. But here, I hated the fact my cock was so on show, and it was so sensitive too. I knew there was no chance that it wouldn't be seen. All the guys could see my cock and know I was turned on when every part of my brain was trying to shut that down. I could feel the hide on the mechanical bull against my flare, and realised it was slick. I was leaking. Oh fuck...

Then I saw Mike grinning, and he was holding the razor. I shook a little as he reached for my ass, then I felt my tail pulled up hard and my taint screaming as it was stretched beyond belief.

"Noooooooooooo!"

One slice and my tail was gone, right down to the dock. The crowd broke into screams of joy watching me squirm as the stag held my severed tail up and sniffed. I fought back tears seeing my pride and joy now taken as a trophy, and he tied strands round each antler as admiring guys begged for some of my former tail as souvenirs. Hands still roamed over my body while this was going on, and the shaking got worse as I felt them delve into my crack. A rumble from Hank stopped that for now.

"Now that you have all had a chance to admire our naughty bound stud for a while, it is time for him to start paying for his crimes. Each lucky winner gets three minutes to stroke his cock. And anyone lucky enough to make him squirt wins a special prize."

The whole room was in party mode. I could hear sounds now, and realised they were the sounds of guys jacking off, the squelch of paws over lubed up cock. Laughter, catcalls, wolf whistles, and guys masturbating watching me bent over, naked, and about to be jacked. I should have taken jail, I thought. But at least it would be over soon...

Hank gave me a reassuring smile that wasn't.

"Sorry colt, but still, you deserve it."

Oh fuck, how much do I deserve though...

"Right, now for our first lucky winner of a chance at this straight College wrestler ass. Ticket A......sixty-nine!"

The number got a good laugh, as did the identity of the winner I realised. I tried to look up, seeing a pair of legs with tree trunk thighs and heavy hoofboots approaching, Then I heard a voice.

"This is your lucky day kid."

I groaned. It was Dwayne. A fellow stallion, but a heavy, a Clyde. He was six five and at least two thirty pounds, a body builder. When he departed for the back room, several guys would follow and line up for a shot at his cock, I had been told. He had ten inches of thick meat and the stamina of a pack horse according to Arn. When he came back from the backroom, always stinking of sweat and cum, he would order a jug of Bud and down it in one gulp and give me a grin.

Reasoning that closing my eyes might help take me away from all this, I scrunched them tight and held on, just as I felt a hand grip my meat. Then a second...

"Oh fuck..."

"I love your country boy accent colt. But you will be singing a different tune soon enough."

He had one hand on my flare, one on my shaft. It was how I loved jacking myself, one hand slowly rotating on my flare while I jacked the shaft and occasionally squeezed my nuts. Took a stallion to know I guess; he had it down pat. I moaned, and whinnied, and squealed out a neigh of hopelessness as his magic touch drove me crazy, and my cock jerked and throbbed and I leaked like a tap and the crowd roared in pure fucking joy watching my debasement. He cupped my balls and squeezed and I let out a piteous nicker and shot another line of pre on the floor. I knew I was close.

Then a bell ringed and there was a huge groan of disappointment.

"Three minutes are up Dwayne. Sorry stud."

I heard a snort of frustration and looked up to see the Clyde stallion staring at me with a mix of admiration, lust, and anger. I knew we weren't done. We were for now though, I had survived one at least.

"Our next lucky winner is ticket A...thirty-two!"

"Ahhhh fook. Now that's what I've been looking forrad to laddy."

I knew the voice. Doctor Morrison, my College lecturer, a forty year old Scottish bear who already hated my ass. He told me often enough I was a lazy, dumb, over indulged brat. I turned in every piece of work late, skipped classes, and generally cruised as best I could. The athletic department covered my ass though, but tonight, nothing at all was covering my ass and he was going to get to do whatever he wanted.

He had special surprise in store for me though, and I knew something was up as the crowd began to yell in approval and cheer. I looked back to see him on his knees, staring at my ass with a sort of faraway grin on his grizzled features, his tongue extending to lick lips in gesture of anticipation.

"I'm not sure Duncan..."

"Awww be a sport Hank. I promise not to penetrate his pretty little tailhole...unless I make him cum of course. Deal?"

"What...what are you doing?"

I managed to find my voice, looking behind me into Duncan Morrison's placid face, noting his slight grin and his beard, his eyebrows wiggling as they did when he was enthused in class. His tongue was extended, and I watched it, entranced like a mouse looking at a rattlesnake.

"I think I know the secret to unlocking your balls colt. And this bear has the tongue of a master..."

"No...please..."

I looked at the feral grin on Hank's face and knew I was fucked. He nodded and I just sighed and clenched my eyes shut and hoped.

Doctor Morrison was not letting me off lightly though. He huffed warm breath on my crack, and I tried to clench my butt but only made it worse. He brought his tongue against the very centre of my clenched pucker, and began the hottest, wettest rimjob imaginable as his magic paws stroked my cock and nuts like a lover. This ride was going to be hard to stay in control, no matter what this rodeo rider wanted.

Then he flicked his tongue on my ring, circling. I was so close.

"Hey Duncan. Stroke his flare. Trust me..."

Dwayne, the asshole. I thought there was honour amongst stallions.

I knew I was gone. The touch on my flare sent waves of pleasure down my cock, meeting the tingle from his tongue on my tailhole. My balls drew up tight, I screamed, I stomped my hooves, but it did no good. With a screaming whinny I suddenly unloaded all over the paw stroking my flare

"NOOOOOOOOOOO...AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

The feeling was indescribable, as was the sound from the crowd, a pure testosterone fuelled cry of triumph and anticipation. I smelt cum, not all my own. Some of the guys had unloaded in sympathy, and I could hear the slick sounds of paws stroking rapidly and the grunts and moans of ejaculation even as I orgasmed painfully, coating the mechanical bull and the rough floor in a river of spunk that seemed to go on and on until my balls emptied out my cock.

The roar went on and on and was like nothing I had heard. I had heard big crowds in the tight confines of a wrestling hall at a major meet, or bigger ones at a football game as the vital play brings a win. I had heard a roar that went through me like liquid heat when I won the championship last week, standing beside my beaten opponent with my arm raised by the ref, my cock bulging in my wrestling uniform bursting through the cup, knowing how many were looking at me and seeing the perfect All-American stud stallion. But the roar when I lost it and my cock burst with the biggest load of my life was louder, wilder, and went on longer and the sound was like a force filling my body with arousal and shame in one. I lay spent over the bull, sobbing, as Doctor Morrison rubbed my twitching tailhole with one finger and Hank and Arn laughed themselves hoarse behind me.

"You get first shot then Duncan. Winner's prize."

My sudden scream of "No" was ignored, and I heard the bear unzip his fly and looked over to see a grinning Arn toss him a bottle of lube. My sudden screech as fingers invaded my tailhole brought laughs and knowing grins, the sudden painful penetration replaced by a warm, burning feel as expert fingers soothed and spread and then...

"Oh fuck..."

He touched somewhere inside me, somewhere incredible, and suddenly my cock slapped against the mechanical bull and dripped pre as my whole body ached for another cum.

My eyes were wide in shock as Hank stroked my headfur.

"Poor stud. Never been touched there right colt?"

"Where..."

"Well, you are lucky. Duncan has a shorter cock, just right to smack that little colt joybuzzer. You might even enjoy this stud."

"Oh fuck...oh fuck..."

I felt the slick, wet touch of a throbbing cockhead on my taint. He slid it playfully over my shaved skin, teasing, until he pressed the head to my hole. It felt so thick, so hot. I clenched reflexively, and got a slap on the rump for my troubles.

"Don't tense up laddy. You will just make it harder on ye!"

I tried to relax but failed. I heard a sigh and then a chuckle.

"Still a poor student. Oh well..."

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

The penetration seemed to take an age. First the head and I almost cried, the sensation of stretching and filling so painful. He waited then, edging inside slowly, before gripping my hips and slamming forward to a great roar of approval and I did shed a tear even as the passage of his thick meat over that place inside me brought a sudden burst of shameful pleasure.

A body lay over mine, rough fur on my coat, and a warm Scots voice filled my ears with mocking but surprisingly affectionate passion.

"You are an even hotter fuck than I imagined colt. Try to enjoy it as much as I do lad."

To my shame I did.

He took it slow, while a slow handclap built and built, every thrust slapping my nut, every new penetration drawing a grunt and a fresh shot of pre. I was moaning like a slut by the end, biting my lips to stop me begging for it to go harder, and the fast rhythmic slap of his hips on my butt and the building burn in my ass finally merged with the tingle in my cock and I suddenly and without warning shot off a second load all over the floor and felt an answering burn in my depths as I took my first load like a mare.

I lay there, panting, as he pulled out slow as treacle and felt liquid drip down my taint and over my balls. The audience was almost quiet now, staring at my wide open tailhole, there gaze misty, hands and paws fondling groins, some openly fondling each other or even fucking in the background. I smelt cum, sex, musk everywhere. I knew it was not enough for me either. My tailhole clenched in anticipation.

My cock was still hard too, I hated to see, and the head now hurt too, the harsh feel of the fake hide on my oversensitive head feeling like sandpaper on my cock.

They gave ten guys a shot at my ass in total. One more got me to shoot, a ram. He showed me his long thin cock before he took my tailhole, and I knew I had to taste it. To my eternal shame I extended my tongue and lapped at the tip while the astounded crowd whistled, and I took every last drop of his pre before he finally had enough and used my ass as his prize. He didn't last long, thanks probably to my licking, but I felt his huge scrotum slapping my taint on every thrust. The feel of those heavy fuzzy orbs slapping me there unlocked something else deep inside me. I knew I needed that too. Often.

They took me back to the office at least after. I got a long glass of bourbon and collapsed into Hank's arms. I was crying unashamedly now and begging for forgiveness. He held me and stroked my back, and my head rested on his chest.

"That's ok colt. You fucked up, bad, but I know inside you aren't a bad horse. Just need some boundaries. I want you to stay on if you want. Besides...I think the customers will want you round after that."

I felt and heard Arn behind me then, chuckling at that thought. They really had seen me at my worst I guessed. All of me. No need to undress me in their imagination...

Arn held me too, and I was sandwiched between the two big bulls, sobbing like a little foal, as hands stroked my body gently. I didn't realise at first, but then noticed it. Arn was rubbing my ass; and as good as it felt when the guys were doing it out there, this felt better. So good...

"Let it out colt. Don't fight it."

Calming, I lay against the broad chest in front of me, and felt another heavy body against mine from behind, chest to my naked back. I felt movement, and realised Arn was taking off his shirt. Fur touched fur, sweat on sweat. I shuddered, and hands began rubbing harder over my butt, and then, into my crack. I shook, eyes wide now staring into Hank's, as fingers delved into the deep crack of my ass.

"Hank..."

"Don't fight it colt. You know you need it. Everyone saw how much you liked it...and you really love a heavy pair of nuts slapping your crack, don't you colt."

A new sensation dawned, and I realised my cock was rock hard again, and poking against hank's groin. He wrapped one meaty hand round it and stroked, and I almost fainted, instead falling into his embrace deeper, as the fingers in my crack touched my wide open and leaking hole and teased.

"Wait..."

Fingers pressed, but stopped as I tried to relax. God I was in heat.

"Not so uptight any more colt..."

I felt breath on my back, then on my broken ass. Warm breath, comforting, as I closed my eyes. The rhythmic stroke of hand on cock brought me to a peak, and then I felt something else. Hard and hot, another cock against mine. I opened my eyes and looked down, seeing a fat circumcised length the width of a Coke bottle pressed to my longer but thinner stallion meat, my flare rubbing over his head the size of an apple and rubbing together as a big hand wrapped around us both and stroked in long, languid strokes.

"Just go with it colt."

Lips touched my ass, just softly rubbing, then I felt a tongue on my hole. I stared into Hank's eyes with shock as I felt his lover slam his tongue deep inside me, lapping out the cum from my tunnel. The rasp of tongue on my insides made me shake all over, and my balls rolled with need.

"You really hurt me boy, you know that. I trusted you. I treated you like a son."

"I know Hank, I'm sorry Sir, really."

"Oh I know colt, or we wouldn't be doing this. Now relax..."

I did as I was told. I could obey, sometimes.

Hands gripped my cheeks and spread them wider. I felt breath on my neck again as Arn stood behind me, holding me in his arms round my chest as his lover held me round my back. Lips and teeth nibbled at my neck, and I sighed as I felt another hard bullcock rubbing in my crack, and I lent a little forward as Hank pulled me towards him even as the fat head of Arn's cock slid down my taint and reached my battered hole.

"Well colt, don't say I can't forgive."

The fat mass spread my pucker but my scream was lost in a deep tongue kiss as Hank's tongue claimed my throat while Arn's cock claimed my ass. Then I felt him nuzzled against me, his heavy sack nestled against my taint, and my whole body relaxed.

I was home.

"Not colt, let's show you how it's done..."

****

One week later I stood in Doctor Morrison's office one arm gripping the other, head down like a naughty colt huiding behind my forelock. He stared at me from behind his desk, a knowing look on his face. I blushed crimson.

"So, what's the excuse this time. Dog ate your essay?"

"No Sir, really..."

I was supposed to hand in a final essay for my class, but somehow I hadn't had the time. Well, it wasn't a mystery anyway, not to me.

The next night, after work, I had gone to see Sandy to tell her I couldn't get her booze for her anymore. She was pissed at me, and I told her how I had been caught. I didn't want to go into the rest, but then she noticed my tail was missing, just the little stub wrapped in white. She was fascinated, and one thing led to another and I was naked. She was fascinated by the changes, and stroked my hairless scrotum and belly missing my pubic bush, feeling the skin, and squeezing my nuts like testing fruit in the market.

Then, when she saw my battered asshole it drove her wild. I had to confess, about everything, and it drove her fucking wild. We had the hottest sex we ever had, on and on until my cock was sore and I had to beg her not to make me hard anymore. She just lay there stroking my red raw stallion cock and my red raw tailhole, and then she giggled like a schoolgirl.

"Turn over then."

I lay on my belly, feeling my stomach churn like it did waiting over the mechanical bull in the Saloon. Then I cried out as I felt her breath and she soothed my ass so good with her tongue.

She licked my ass so good and deep, like Arn had, and I spread my legs and begged like a whore. I had no idea what came over me, but she liked it.

"I know what you need darling. And I have been dying to try this out for ages..."

I saw her take it out, a big fat dildo in black, shaped like a stallion cock, and some sort of harness. I wanted to bolt, wanted to run, but instead I spread my legs wider and leaked into the pillow propping up my ass. As I begged her to be gentle, and she just laughed her superior musical laugh full of contempt, she took my tailhole, pegging me wildly until I shot off into the pillow and she growled out an orgasm from watching me lose my nut with her dildo up my ass.

We had been fucking like rabbits every night since when I could get away from work and wrestling training, and there wasn't much time for classwork. I didn't know how to tell Doctor Morrison that though, so I just shrugged.

"Mister Fletcher...laddy. You are almost failing this class already. If I give you a zero for this, you will not be able to pass, and you will have to repeat."

I stared at him, wide eyed now, body rigid.

"NO! Please. You can't...there must be something..."

His grin became a thousand watts brighter.

"Well lad, as you seem intent on being a naught little colt, there is something you would be familiar with that might persuade me you are sincere in your apology."

He took it out of his top drawer as I stared. A bottle of lube. I nickered and shook as he stared at me, at my groin, where my cock had shot to attention, pressed so hard against the fabric of my workout shorts you could see the flare pulsing through the fabric.

"If you are game."

Bent over his desk, with my shorts and briefs down, I tried not to shake too hard. I knew I was leaking onto his desktop. I knew I should be ashamed. Instead I was mostly delirious with need. I was soon leaking in anticipation, and moaning.

"Ohhhh!"

A chuckle.

"Got the taste for it laddy, I see."

"N...no...AHHHH!"

Rough paws gripped my scrotum and squeezed. A sudden dazzling pain surged through my groin. The cunt could be a real asshole when he wanted.

"No lying lad. So, why is your essay late? Tell the truth."

I told him, as he ate my ass, in detail as excruciatingly exquisite as the sensations he was giving me. I omitted one thing though; nobody was going to know about the dildo, and how it felt having it rammed into that place inside that made my cock ache like nothing else.

I felt his lips on my ass, and then, so good, on my hole. Lapping at my pucker, which was itself a little sore and abused by Sandra. His tongue felt incredible, deep inside me, and I pushed back onto him now, wanton in heat. He ate me like a pro, and I reached under to grip my cock but felt those paws squeeze my balls again I let out a cry.

"None of that lad. That's my job."

He gripped me tight, stroking in time with his tongue fucking my tunnel, and I lasted only a minute before I spunked into his hand and lay there panting for breath. He wasn't idle though, and I suddenly felt my hole spread and fingers coated in thick liquid entered me and plunged deep into my ass. I bit my tongue, caught between shock and need, as my hole adjusted, as it did to the dildo, and the fingers found my joy button and rubbed.

"Feels like you need this laddy, am I right?"

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhh."

His hands felt good, better even that Arn. Stroking, soothing, caressing. He gripped my cock and stroked, laughing.

"Poor laddy. So in heat, so much cum in those fat bollocks of yours. Think we need them drained, so you can concentrate on your fooking work."

He stood and I felt it again. His cock, softer than the dildo, but harder too, hot, slick with precum, throbbing with life fat and twitching,. He pressed it against me, then held back, then again, testing me. I didn't pull away, like I tried to over the bull, I was ashamed to say. Instead I pushed back.

"Ohfuckyes laddy. That's the way."

He thicker than the dildo I remembered, and I whimpered a little as he battered his way inside. My tunnel was still a bit raw. When he rested, balls deep inside me, I could feel his sack, hairy against my newly naked hairless cleft. Not as big and heavy as the ram, or as Arn, but still good. He wiggled his hips as I moaned, and chuckled, then pulled back and I felt all but his head leave me. I held on, waiting.

All the way to the hilt in one thrust, and I let out a groan of triumph. Like riding a bull, getting used to the rhythm of the animal wanting to break you, I adjusted, getting into the rhythm too, working with it, spreading my ass, taking his thrusts, using all my willpower not to yell and beg, and instead I found the heat building and building until I shot line after line of cum all over his desk and took my first load deep in my ass as he growled out his pleasure in a thick Scottish accent and rested spent with his furry belly on my back and his lips on the back of my neck.

"I have to thank e lad. We had a bet, me and Hank an Arn. Whoever got your ass first after that night in The Saloon got a bottle of forty-year-old Ardberg, and I am going to collect."

"Please, don't tell anyone..."

"Well, I'll tell them but no other lad. If you hand your essay in by this time next week."

I couldn't bring myself to tell him that Sandra had been there too.

Well, not just yet, anyway.