Stable Lads

Curved Cock

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.


Winter snarled bitterly at the stable yard, frosting the outbuildings in a touch of ice that did not leave the shadows even at the height of the day. It was a particular harsh winter and the ground suffered for it, frozen solid so that equines walked on top instead of through fetlock deep mud. The small yard consisting of ten loose boxes, a locking breeze block tack room, full size sand arena and massive acreage was modest upon one’s first glance but stretched further than the eye could see. It was the ideal spot to run a stud farm in the shadow of the Welsh mountains only a stone’s throw from the border and motorway links. Other breeders could ferry their mares to the yard for breeding with no trouble at all while allowing precious cargo to be shipped out en masse from the farm itself.

In the grip of winter, there was little activity on the yard as most breeders only sent their mares to the stud farm when their foals would have the best chance of being born early when the weather turned in springtime. Most of the stallions were collected via fur-made collection devices – AV – to be frozen for artificial insemination at another breeder’s convenience. The yard was currently populated solely by stallions and one lone gelding that the yard owner had not quite been able to let go when he had unfortunately had to have his testicles removed for health purposes. He still thought he was a stallion, however, and caused enough trouble for ten of the larger lads

The yard owner, a chestnut stallion anthro with his forelock flipped back between his ears, wheeled a barrow across the yard at a brisk pace, expertly avoiding a slick of ice from an earlier mishap with a water bucket. Any spilled water froze instantly and Ametrine was glad that no one else was there to bear witness to his clumsiness, which was a daily occurrence. The four-legged horses may have snickered privately but they would never be able to pass on any snide remarks to those of the two-legged kind, thankfully for him. He had had too many embarrassing moments around them, the klutz that he was.

He wrapped up well in a pair of navy winter jodhpurs and heavy duty black hoof-boots, which fastened on the inside of his fetlocks with a series of shiny buckles. A green waterproof jacket was slung about his shoulders, open at the front to reveal a grey t-shirt. He always got too hot to work in a coat regardless of the weather and knew he would shortly discard it at a location where it hopefully would not be destroyed by one of the wickeder stallions. The white diamond on his forehead gleamed in the weak winter sunlight as he trotted to the muck heap to empty soiled straw and droppings on to the pile. It would need taming a bit later but he had other things to take care of first of all.

Swinging back across the stable yard, the chestnut horse’s ears flicked and he blinked, brown eyes shining with a secret that was not yet told. He paused at the tack room door and dropped the wheelbarrow with a clunk, scraps of debris that had not made their way out of the unpainted metal rattling within. He unlocked the door with a key from the lot in his jacket pocket, jingling musically, and hummed contentedly to himself as he stepped inside to its chilly warmth.

There was electricity running out to the tack room, which was only locked on the off chance that a thief would tackle the expensive gear at the stud farm, and he flipped on the light switch to half-illuminate the room. Saddles lined the right hand wall while bridles hung neatly on his left, Ametrine stepping inside with the familiarity that only came from a long time spent working in the same surroundings.

He strode straight through the room to the back wall and ran his fingertips along the bricks until they met the handle of a wooden door painted in the same colour as the breeze blocks. Smiling, Ametrine unlocked the secret door and paced into a warm room, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the warmer light, a red glow of heaters set around the top half of the walls, which were boarded for warmth and insulation.

In the centre of the room knelt a dappled grey stallion, his knees spread apart for balance. He would not have been there by choice, as was demonstrated by the leather harness crossing his chest and back to bind his paws to his sides, encased in gloves designed to look like his black hooves. A black leather hood covered his head and blocked out his vision, only his ears, lips and nostrils visible around the confining gear. His nostrils flared, showing a flash of pink, and he turned his head to catch the noise, ears pricked.

Ametrine smirked.

“Still here, are you, colt?”

He smirked and Betturkey closed the hidden door at his heels, tail swishing as he approached the bound and waiting stallion. The Warlander’s ears swivelled to catch the sound of his movement and Ametrine chuckled at his shiver, muscle quivering beneath a gleaming, bare coat. In the warmth of the secret room, which was, in all truth, accessible from the other side and used as a quarantine room for unwell equines from time to time, he rolled his jacket back off his shoulders and let it fall to the ground. His t-shirt followed in suit and he stretched his arms luxuriously over his head, revelling in the feel of lightly worked muscles that rippled beneath a very lean layer of flesh.

Leaving his jodhpurs on, he picked up a black riding crop from beside the door and walked around the stallion in a slow circle, crop tapping against his thigh.

“Not that you would go anywhere,” he continued the earlier utterance, running his fingers sensually through the equine’s silvery-grey mane as his tail spilled in a waterfall across the cobbled floor, a remnant of older times. “You have me here to look after you. But all good ponies listen to their masters.”

He paused.

“You haven’t been a good colt.”

Flicking the tip of the whip against the Warlander’s balls, Ametrine’s lips twisted as the colt reacted with a shudder, the tap hardly enough to make him swish his tail. The stallion straightened, lips turning down in a surly frown that did not suit his muzzle.

“Oh, a brave one today, I see. We’ll have to fix that.”

The grey stallion stiffened, tail flattened down over his buttocks. Ametrine’s eyes lowered to the muscled shapes, squeezing and clenching as his toy shifted position. He was too tempting, the little colt, and Ametrine struck out with the whip to crack down on each buttock in turn, making muscle and flesh ripple with the blows. Squirming, the pony nickered and shuddered as the blows continued, reddening the flesh with a slow, deep burn that did not immediately have him sweating but built and built.

Whinnying softly, Ametrine licked his lips and pushed the colt’s shoulders forward so that his rump was better displayed, chest dropping heavily to the ground. Unable to protect himself his paws closed in hoof-gloves, the colt grunted and wriggled, trying to keep his tail down to no avail. The stallion struck rhythmically, tail flicking to the music he created, the sound of the colt nickering and whimpering music to his ears. Why, he could even be a puppy with the breathy whimpers passing his lips, though he could make little more noise than that with the hood cupping just under his chin. Though it was not designed to restrict speech, its presence and restriction was enough to keep the colt’s complaints muffled.

Satisfied with his sweating, quivering victim, Ametrine put the whip aside, careful to make no noise so that he would think he still had it clasped in his paw, ready to strike again. Huffing, the grey horse snorted against the cooler floor as the heaters warmed his back, tail flicking anxiously. He could not and would not know what was going to happen next, exactly as Ametrine liked it. It was always so much more interesting when his colts had to wait and wonder just what he was going to do to them. It was one of the many perks to holding the reins.

On the side wall of the secluded room was a wooden chest with painted black metal detailing. Crouching carefully before the chest, Ametrine quietly dug inside, searching for one implement in particular. There were all sorts of tools to take care of an unruly colt concealed within but there was only one toy that he knew would both subdue and prepare his pony for something a bit more tasteful to come. Retrieving a dildo shaped to match an equine’s cock, he balanced it across both paws, casting his eyes over the mottled pink and brown length.

Not as large as Tarren but it’ll do, he thought with a cheeky smile that his pet could not see. Colt will have to be stretched out for him though, if he is to best please my studs.

He snatched up a bottle of lubricant from the chest and squeezed out a generous dose on to the shaft, clicking the lid closed with a quiet snap. The colt’s ears pricked to catch a sound that had become perhaps too familiar to his ears and he tensed, turning his cheek to the cooler floor. Chuckling, Ametrine shook his head and rubbed his paw over the toy, cock bulging in his jodhpurs, though not yet pleasured. Not yet, not quite yet.

“You see, pony,” he said conversationally as he lubed up the dildo, flare and all. “I wouldn’t have had to put you in intensive training if you had been obedient. This is on you, after all.”

Crouching at the colt’s raised rump, Ametrine lifted his tail away with his forearm to keep it well clear of the tight pucker that was his target. The stallion clenched his tail hole in an attempt to keep out the invasion that Betturkey Giriş he knew was coming, as much as his body trembled to receive it. A humiliation that he was still becoming used to, the proud stallion had been reduced to a colt and his cock shamefully dropped from its soft sheath, the patched length drooling a stream of near clear pre cum. Flexing, it slapped up against his abdomen and the colt nickered softly, eyes closed beneath the hood as muscle shuddered in anticipation as much as trepidation.

“Behave and you are rewarded. Misbehave, however…”

He left the words hanging in the air as he shifted with a gentle clip-clop of hooves, noise echoing across the smooth cobblestones. The slickened flare of the dildo grazed his anal ring and he inhaled sharply, taking a quick breath before it eased in under Ametrine’s guiding paw, nudging the head in with a slick squelch of lubricant. The colt trembled and his cock jerked, shooting a jet of pre cum to stain the cobbles beneath his belly, breath coming in short, quick pants as the toy pushed deeper and deeper.

“Such a slutty colt…” Ametrine taunted. “Just waiting for a nice, thick cock under your tail. Perhaps you would be better as a filly for all the real studs to fill up with cum?”

Shaking his head, the colt tried to deny the facts staring him in the face, tail flicking above Ametrine’s arm. Sliding the well lubricated toy in to the base, which flared out into a well replicated pair of equine balls, the stallion mimicked the motion of a stallion’s thrusts. Driving deep into the colt, the stallion rumbled softly in his chest, need rising in an obvious bulge in his jodhpurs. His eyes glimmered and his free paw dropped to caress the bulge where a true hot rod of stallion flesh strained to be released, demanding attention rather than begging for it. Why would he ever have to beg? The colt’s ears flicked back at his bark of laughter, though he was swiftly distracted by the workings of the dildo in his tail hole, pounding in with a heady rhythm. When it came to begging, Ametrine never had any reason for a stud to ever go unsatisfied.

Unzipping his jodhpurs and snapping free the little button at the top, he eased down his boxer-briefs and slipped his hardening shaft into open air. He sighed softly, absently working the toy within the colt’s rump up against his prostrate as his paw languidly stroked his own length. It was rare that he had the time for any self-attention these days with willing or not so willing colts to do the work for him.

Ignorant to the attention Ametrine lavished on himself, the pony arched back and wantonly thrust his rump back on the dildo, hooded mask rubbing against the floor as he fought to thrust into something. His cock hung free and twitched sporadically, wanting a hole to fill when it was not something Ametrine would allow his bridled colt, finding him better suited to other purposes. He squirmed and twisted, tail flicking higher as the cock worked him over harder and faster, the medial ring pushing in to stretch him out just a little bit more. Like a traditional equine’s cock, the shaft was just a little larger after the medial ring, though it would not flush with blood near climax – a pleasure that the colt was yet to feel.

Pumping his shaft, Ametrine rolled his head back, lips parted for a harsh pant, though he could not forget the colt beneath his paw. He focused on his charge with some difficulty, tail flicking wildly as he struggled to contain himself, feral instinct nipping at his rump. It would be so easy to pull the dildo free of the pony and mount him in a sudden craze of passion, rutting him like a mare in season until he emptied his load in his rump, paw squeezed around the colt’s throbbing, needy balls.

He rubbed his paw over the head of his cock to scoop up a drizzle of stallion pre cum and grinned down at the colt trying to push back on to the faux shaft, tail hiked like the wanting filly he imagined him to be. The submissive ones by nature were all the same once you got them strapped into leather and unable to fight back. Smearing his pre cum over the colt’s exposed lips for an added lick of humiliation that made him shudder, he caught sight of the hard, forgotten length dangling beneath the colt.

“Are you going to cum, little colt?” He chuckled, reaching below the grey horse’s stomach to stroke his shaft. “Getting off to the feel of a stud’s cock in your rump?”

The colt flushed and shook his head in unconvincing denial, tail hiked high without Ametrine’s assistance. He licked cum from his lips reflexively, cheeks heating up further from the musky taste; he would never have ever dreamed of taking another stallion’s cum in his muzzle but Ametrine had changed all of that for him. The stallion chuckled and rammed the cock in deep as he squeezed the colt’s shaft, his own bobbing patiently before his crotch.

“I’ll have a real one for you later,” he said, pumping Betturkey Güncel Giriş the colt’s length more quickly and squeezing behind the flare. “But you have to earn this, colt. You have to want it. You have to beg for it.”

In time, he would beg for it, and so sweetly too. As it was, he snorted heavily as the cock drove in more and more forcibly, thankful in the moment for the lubricant Ametrine had allowed. It was not always so easy to take a shaft and the stallion took great pleasure in forcing a new pet open whether they accepted a cock or not. Every breath raked through his lungs as the stallion angled the cock so that it grazed over his prostrate with every thrust, making his cock jerk and drool thicker globules of pre cum, the paw on his cock stroking faster and faster. If he imagined he was somewhere else and ignored the hood, he could have been breeding a mare and feeling her soft paw on his shaft as she worked him up ready to mount in another lifetime, a time where he was the top and never felt true fulfilment. He was not the stud that the stallion was, however, and he hid his muzzle against the cobbles as orgasm threatened to overwhelm him.

Snorting, Ametrine ducked his muzzle to lip cheekily as the colt’s rump as he thrust the faux shaft in deep and squeezed behind his flare, laughing mockingly as he erupted in climax. Giving a whinny that was half-muffled against the ground, the colt jerked and shuddered, tail flagged high, as he ejaculated, shooting his pleasure across the dark stones. Under the hood, he closed his eyes and felt his tail hole squeeze around the cock, trying to tighten up and failing utterly to do so. Under the warm, rough paw, his cock grew sensitive and he nickered softly at the sensation, both wanting to press into Ametrine’s paw and pull away to save himself the oversensitivity. His cheeks seared with heat at the stallion continued to work the dildo slowly within his tail hole, working him over until he was content that he had drained every drop of cum from this load of the colt’s. He should be grateful that he had been allowed to cum: it was a treat rarely permitted.

One stallion was left wanting, however, and that simply would not do. Leaving the dildo buried in his toy’s rump, Ametrine dragged his muzzle around and pressed his thumb into the corner of the snorting pony’s mouth to have him part his lips.

“Open up, colt.”

Though he could not open his mouth very much, the colt did his best and even stuck his tongue out from his muzzle obediently, pink stark against the grey of his nose and lips. Jerking off his cock in front of the colt’s muzzle, Ametrine gasped and thrust his hips as if he was breeding the colt himself, rocking until his cock erupted with a rope of thick seed. Splattering the horse’s muzzle and hood with his cum, Ametrine grunted and rolled his hips forward, thrusting into his own paw as he smeared the still spurting head over the colt’s tongue and lips. Though he whimpered, he otherwise made no complaint and Ametrine smiled: his training was taking.

In time, he would be the perfect little filly to breed over and over again until the poor colt couldn’t even stand. He wouldn’t need to stand.

Standing, Ametrine left his drooling cock hanging out of his jodhpurs and tugged on the colt’s hood to get his attention as the little pony panted for breath, ears pricked to attention.

“Come with me, colt.”

He didn’t have any choice in the matter and clambered to his hooves as Ametrine led him away, trusting the stallion for balance. Clopping over the cobbles, the colt’s ears swivelled as cool air brushed his coat and he shivered, the outdoors a far cry to the warm room he had been locked in. Ametrine rolled his eyes at how the colt’s head shot up, trying to take stock of his surroundings even through the hood, and rested his paw between his shoulder blades to guide him, the fingers of his other paw curled around one of the leather straps of the harness. It would not do to have the colt stumble to his knees on the rougher ground outside. Better that he receive marks on his knees from other activities, Ametrine thought with a sly smirk.

Leading the grey pony into a larger stable on the end of his block of ten, Ametrine stood him quietly near the centre of the box and patted his muzzle. The colt swished his tail at being petted like a four-legged horse but did not find the sensation altogether unpleasant so leaned into Ametrine’s paw with only a nicker of ‘complaint’.

“Easy, colt.”

With a deft flick of his paw, Ametrine unbuckled the hood with his hoofed fingertips and whipped it from the colt’s head. Blinking to adjust to the sudden change of light, the Warlander shook his head, mane falling off his neck where the hood had trapped it against his coat, and looked around the small, secure shed, eyes widening.

A breeding device, sometimes used for semen collection in feral stallions stood in the centre of the room. This one, however, had been modified with straps so that an anthro could be bound to the top and the stallion mounting would instead thrust into them instead of a sleeve. It was clear that no seed would be collected during this process but the stud would be left smugly satisfied with his tail hiked and cock hardening for more.

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