Invasion of the Equines
By Phantasmagore

Disclaimer: This is purely a work of adult fantasy involving fictional characters. The author does not condone any of the illegal or immoral actions portrayed within.

“Y’know what, man? Fuck that fuckin’ bitch…” Otto cried out as he stumbled into his friend’s shoulder. The dalmatian was drunk, to say the least, having spent the last few hours drowning his feelings in alcohol until he and the beagle holding him up were cut off by the bartender. Now, they were trying to make their way back to Otto’s apartment before his body fully gave up on moving for the night.

Kevin, the beagle and Otto’s best friend since college, nodded along in agreement as Otto vented. “Don’t let her get you down, bro,” he said. “She isn’t worth it. Let’s just get you home and in bed, and you can sleep all this off.”

Otto just grunted. The two of them always went out drinking on Fridays, but this time was a special occasion. His girlfriend, now ex-girlfriend, he supposed, had just dumped him. In his mind, it came out of nowhere. He was the best boyfriend in the world to her, and she just threw him away like it meant nothing.

“It’s just… how can she just… end it?” Otto said, his words slurring as the sidewalk lurched beneath him. He stumbled forward a few more steps until Kevin caught him. “I fuckin’… did everything right, man…”

Kevin hesitated, clearly debating whether to say what was on his mind.

“What?” Otto asked.

“Do you think she might’ve been cheating on you?” Kevin said.

It had certainly crossed Otto’s mind, as sluggish and disjointed as his thoughts felt in the moment. The fact that his friend said it first further validated the idea in his mind.

“She had to be,” he muttered. “Bet that whore has been sleeping all over.”

With his ego successfully reassured that he wasn’t the problem, the drunk dalmatian managed to get a few blocks further before something else caught his ire. A deep, rhythmic beat resonated through the air, growing louder until Otto and Kevin rounded a corner to find a neon-lit building with a few scantily clad furs hanging around outside. In his current state, it took a minute to recognize it as the local gay bar.

Small clusters of people were gathered along the street. Otto’s eyes wandered to one group in particular. A pair of stallions flanked a feminine, snow-white rabbit, with a gray donkey standing in front of him. The bunny was wearing a tight, pink crop top and an even tighter pair of denim shorts. A goofy grin adorned his face as the three equines chatted him up, which morphed into an open-mouthed huff as one of the horses reached down and got a handful of his ass. He spread his legs to allow the donkey to begin fondling his groin. His shorts were so tight that even across the street, Otto swore he could see the outline of his erection.

Otto was so distracted by the sight that he didn’t notice a crack in the sidewalk until he had already fallen flat on his face, his rear sticking up awkwardly as he tried to pull himself back up. An angry heat rose to his cheeks as a few whistles and cheers rang out from the other side of the road.

“Nice ass, boy!” the donkey yelled. “Give me a call if you need it stuffed!” Otto swallowed his disgust as the donkey groped the bulge in his jeans while watching Otto get back to his feet.

‘Fucking fags,’ he thought. Actually, judging from the way the group was suddenly glaring daggers at him, maybe he didn’t just think it. Maybe he shouted it at the top of his lungs. While normally he would have had kept that thought to himself, the combination of the drunken haze over his mind and the bitterness from his breakup left him with little in the way of self-control.

The donkey was stomping toward him now, and as he got closer, Otto realized that the equine was much bigger than he looked from far away. The drunk dalmatian was suddenly very aware of the fact that the donkey’s thick jacket was big enough to conceal a weapon, and based on the size difference between them, Otto didn’t stand a chance in a fistfight. By the time he was close enough for Otto to see the small black speckles dotting his face and the rage simmering in his yellow eyes, Otto’s resolve had sputtered out like a weak candle.

“Uh, I—” he couldn’t get a word out before the donkey’s fist slammed into his cheek and sent him sprawling. Kevin moved to help him, but one look from the donkey had him shrinking back, tail between his legs.

The donkey’s knee pressed down into Otto’s chest as the larger male knelt on top of him. “Be careful who you yell at, bitch,” he said. He began reaching into the pocket of his jacket, until the black-furred horse stopped him.

“Not here, man,” he said.

“…Fine,” the donkey snorted, standing up, “but I’m gonna get a piece, pup. Just you wait.” He snorted and spat on Otto’s face.

With that, the two equines went back to join the rabbit and the other horse, getting back to their flirting as if nothing happened. Kevin helped Otto back to his feet, dusting the dalmatian off before pulling him away.

“Dude, what the hell was that about? Why’d you have to go and start shit?” Kevin said.

Otto didn’t answer. His head was swimming, both from the punch and the booze, and it was taking all of his mental energy to keep walking as they made it the rest of the way to his apartment.

He didn’t even make it to his bed; as soon as Kevin dropped him off in the apartment, Otto stumbled over to the couch and passed out, plagued by dreams of horses wielding a rabbit like a club and beating him over the head with it.

………………..

The next morning, Otto woke up with a splitting headache. Sunlight streamed through the window, assaulting his eyes and aggravating the pain. He shielded his eyes against it, although it barely seemed to help. With a groan, he tumbled off of the couch and got to his feet. Getting himself from there to the bathroom was the next hurdle.

It felt like heavy weights were tied to his limbs, but bit by bit, he managed to drag himself across his apartment and through the bathroom door. A lurching in his stomach had him hurrying over to the toilet to vomit, but thankfully, it settled down on its own after a minute. He wound up leaning against the sink counter instead, staring into his own bleary eyes through the mirror.

‘I look like hell,’ he thought.

He opened the medicine cabinet. Among a small assortment of over-the-counter medications and toiletries, there was a small, off-white bottle with no label. Otto grabbed it and popped off the lid. It was mostly empty, with just a few dull green pills at the bottom.

‘Damn it. I gotta go to Norman’s today.’

Regardless, he turned the bottle over, dropping one of the last pills into his palm. He popped it in his mouth and swallowed. It went down easily enough for him to take it dry. Crossing back into the rest of his apartment, he dropped himself into the couch to wait for it to take effect.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait for very long. Within a few minutes, he could already feel the hangover begin to fade away. He had no idea how, but Norman’s hangover cure never failed to work its magic. That badger had a knowledge of natural medicines that could put every doctor in the city out of business if he wanted to.

With his head clearing, Otto got up again, much more alert this time. One quick shower later, he was stepping out into the warm morning, dressed in a simple tee shirt and jeans. He preferred to keep his dress simple if he didn’t have something specific to do.

His neighborhood was fairly quiet, despite being close to the bustle of downtown. At this time on a Saturday, there were just a few familiar faces out and about.

Otto found himself a few paces behind a pair of women when a loud red car pulled up alongside them on the road. The window rolled down to reveal a rat with a pair of dark shades and way too much styling gel in his fur.

“Hey, girls,” he said, his voice slick with unearned self-confidence, “why don’t you hop in back and we have a nice lil’ Saturday for ourselves?”

One of the two females, a silver-furred wolf, sized him up for a moment before replying, “Why don’t we not?”

The rat was persistent. “Aw, come on, baby. Just get in the car, and I’ll show you a good time like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Fuck off,” she shot back, “and get your shitty car out of our faces.”

An angry look flashed across his face. He muttered under his breath, “…bitch,” and then took off down the street. For a brief moment, Otto was tempted to try to make his own pass at the two, but his better judgment kept him from going through with the idea. Instead, he just put his head down and kept walking.

He continued for a few minutes before a new sound caught his attention. He turned his head to look down a nearby alleyway, spotting a figure huddled against the wall. Whoever they were, their attention seemed to be totally consumed by their current task. They were spray painting the brick wall of one of the buildings.

Otto wasn’t usually one to care about some random fur tagging in his neighborhood, but today, he was feeling in a bad enough mood to risk making a scene.

“Hey!” he shouted.

Before he had a chance to follow that up with anything, the figure saw him and panicked. They scrambled to pick up their bag and ran off in the opposite direction, dropping loose cans of spray paint to the ground with a loud clatter. By the time Otto managed to make sense of their chaotic exit, they were already gone.

Otto huffed and went on his way, more upset over the lost opportunity to take out his frustrations on someone else than he was by the actual graffiti.

As Otto passed the bus stop, he spared a glance at the pair sitting on the bench. The first was Reggie, a horse with soft brown fur and a streak of blond hair in his otherwise dark mane. Even dressed as blandly as he was today, that one unusual feature always managed to draw the attention of passerby. The one time Otto cared enough to strike up a conversation, he learned that it was completely natural, too, which made it even more odd.

The bench’s second occupant was the other reason Reggie got so many sideways looks. His son, whose name Otto never learned, was a young blue jay. He sat there, oblivious to the confused glances. The boy was clearly adopted, but from where, or what happened to his biological parents, nobody knew. Although most of the gossip around him was positive toward Reggie for caring for the child, many questioned whether he would be better off raised by other avians.

Continuing down the street for a few blocks, he passed a storefront full of TVs, all playing the same shitty news channel. Otto tried to tune out the grating sound of the news anchor going on about politics or some other bullshit. He could’ve sworn that the owner of the store chose the worst, most annoying channels they could find. It was like they hoped passerby would go in and buy a TV just to be able to turn one of them off.

Otto clutched his head to try to soothe the dull ache triggered by the sound. Even with the hangover cure he took earlier, every loud noise still pierced through his temple like an iron spike. He rushed forward to get as far away as possible.

Finally, he could see the familiar name: The Shore’s Pot. The yellow letters were sewn into an awning that had seen better days. It was frayed around its edges, and a few rips meant that it offered very little actual shelter on rainy days. The windows looked like they were past due for a polish as well, with a few smudges and smears littering their surface. That being said, the small coffee shop had its charms, and its lackluster appearance never seemed to deter its customers.

Otto wasn’t here for the place’s style, anyway. He wasn’t even here for its coffee. He only had one thing on his mind as he went inside. The soft chime of the bell over the door announced his arrival, although it was easily overpowered by the constant hum of conversation. The place was nearly full around this time in the morning. If it were anywhere else, the long line would have been enough to sour Otto’s mood even further. Fortunately for him, he knew the owner, and that gave him extra leeway that others didn’t have. He paid the sideways glances and irritated mutterings no mind as he sauntered up to the counter past all the waiting furs.

He stopped at the front of the line and tried to make eye contact with the barista, a chestnut-furred horse. The equine male was rather slim for his species, more lithe than muscular. This, combined with his longer blond hair, gave him a more feminine appearance. Otto’s head throbbed again as murky memories tried to force themselves forward, but it was all too muddled to take clear form. Something about the look of this horse was reminding him of whatever happened to him last night.

A quick glance down reminded Otto of the horse’s name: James. The barista had been working here for months now, but Otto rarely gave him much thought. As far as he was concerned, James was just the faceless horse that did the grunt work.

“Hey, James,” he said, interrupting the horse as he was taking a customer’s order, “is Norman in? I need to talk to him.”

James gave him a frustrated look. “Hang on, Otto,” he said. “Let me finish this order, and I can go grab him for you.”

Otto was already walking past the counter toward the back. “It’s fine. I’ll just go find him.”

He ignored the flustered barista’s protests as he barged through the door. He stood at the end of a narrow, cramped hallway. The pleasant aroma of coffee was immediately replaced by a musty odor. Boxes were stacked haphazardly against the walls, waiting for the slightest nudge to send them all tumbling to the floor. The darkness back here made it easy to see the light streaming out from beneath a door on the left. Otto approached and gave it a quick knock. He immediately reached down for the knob, used to just walking into Norman’s office without waiting for an answer, but he found that it was locked.

A loud clatter rang out from the other side, accompanied by a string of muffled curses. Footsteps approached, and the door was suddenly yanked open.

“What do you want now, you prissy little— oh, Otto! Good to see you, my boy! Come in!”

Norman’s scowl immediately morphed into a wide smile as he realized who it was. He was a middle-aged badger, just past his fiftieth birthday or so. His fur was neatly brushed, as usual, black and white stripes running down from his head to his neck. Its tidiness was interrupted at the collar of his shirt, where it stuck out at odd angles here and there. A pair of thin-rimmed glasses rested on his muzzle, simple and functional. The striped button-up shirt, khaki pants, and brown loafers completed his look.

Otto followed him into his office. “Hey, Norm,” he said. “Just wanted to stop by, see how you’re doing, and check if you’ve got any more of those hangover pills lying around.”

“Ah, yes, I was wondering when you’d need more,” the older badger chuckled. “Using your youth to the fullest, aren’t you? It takes me back to when I was your age. I was quite the part animal back in the day. It felt like every night was another party with another girl…,” He trailed off as he began to get lost in the memories.

Otto tried waving his hand in front of Norman to get his attention, but he was out of it. “Uh, Norm? Norm? Norman!”

The badger jumped, as if he’d just been woken up from a standing nap. “Oh, right, sorry about that. Hehe… Enjoy your youth, Otto. You’ll miss it when it’s gone. No one wants this old codger anymore. Not even my lovely wife…,” he ground his teeth together as he muttered the last part. Based on the badger’s constant complaints, Otto had gleaned that he and his wife practically hated each other. Needless to say, she never put out, leaving poor old Norman with an incurable case of blue balls.

‘That’s what you get for tying yourself down,’ he thought, although he didn’t dare say it out loud. He couldn’t risk losing his special access to Norman’s home remedies.

Norman rummaged through a drawer in his desk until he pulled out a small tin container. He popped it open to reveal three bottles full of familiar pills. “Alright,” he said, “these are all I have right now, so I’ll say you can have one bottle for forty dollars, or the whole lot for a hundred.”

Otto put on a friendly grin and replied, “Come on, Norm. How about you give your friend the three of them for eighty bucks?”

There was a brief conflict behind Norman’s eyes as he weighed whether to let his business sense or his fondness for the dalmatian take control. Eventually, one won out, and the badger placed the pill bottles on the desk with a sigh.

“Okay, Otto. Eighty it is.”

Otto happily scooped up the bottles, slipping them into his pockets while he handed Norman the money. “You’re a lifesaver,” he said.

Norman waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. You think I don’t know when someone’s sucking up to me?”

“I know you know, but I’m pretty sure you like the flattery anyway.”

“Well,” Norman grinned, “you have a point there.”

His smile disappeared when a knock on the door cut through their conversation.

“WHAT?!” he shouted.

The knob turned, and the door slowly opened to reveal the barista, James. “Um,” he said, “I’ve got a situation up front. Problem customer.”

“And you couldn’t handle it yourself?” Norman snorted. “Fuckin’ perfect. I know horses are supposed to be all brawn and no brains, but I thought maybe since you don’t have the brawn, you’d have something bigger than a pea in your skull. Apparently not, though. Can’t lift the heavy boxes, can’t figure out how to deal with a customer, what the fuck are you good at?”

James’s nostrils flared with a thinly veiled anger, but the skinny horse didn’t let any of it out. Not even when Otto snickered at his treatment. The dalmatian sensed an opportunity to further ingratiate himself to Norman, so he joined in on the fun.

“Hold on, Norman. Better use smaller words,” he said.

The badger chuckled. “Good point, Otto. Not a lot going on upstairs with these equines, I swear.”

When Otto glanced over to see James’s reaction, the horse’s face was beet red. His jaw was clenched shut tightly, and his hands were shaking. He looked like he was barely holding himself back from lunging forward and murdering them. Not that the sissy would even be able to do something like that.

‘I bet he’s barely even packing,’ Otto thought. ‘Maybe a few inches at best. He probably takes it up the ass anyway.’ He refused to believe that any man that feminine could be anything other than a cocksucker.

“…Fine,” James hissed through gritted teeth. “I’ll figure it out myself, sir.” He spat the last word out before he turned and left.

“Gotta get that attitude of his in check,” Norman muttered.

“Well, if there’s anyone that can get him in line, it’s you,” Otto said. “Just gotta treat him like a… whatever a meathead is when they don’t have any meat.”

Norman smirked. “An airhead.”

“Yeah, that works.”

They exchanged a few more jokes at James’s expense before Otto decided to head out with his fresh supply of medication. He gave James a wave and a grin on his way out, getting a furious glare in return from the haggard barista.

………………..

Over the next few days, Otto developed a new routine of moping around through the day, going out for drinks with Kevin and getting shitfaced each night, and then waking up to a wicked hangover the next morning, just to take a pill and restart the cycle. It was hardly productive, but as long as he could continue wallowing in the injustice of his breakup, that was all he needed.

As the week progressed like this, the sting was gradually getting less severe. It still hurt, and he still felt no shortage of self-pity, but he was at least able to remember that there was still a world around him. Besides, maybe a walk would help clear his head. With that thought, he put on his shoes and stepped outside into the bright sunlight.

As he walked through the neighborhood, though, something else began to simmer under the surface. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was just starting to feel off.

He mostly saw the same faces as always, but there were a few he didn’t recognize. The slick rat leaned back against his car, talking to a zebra with an unusually large gut straining against his black shirt. Their discussion seemed to be getting increasingly heated, the rat’s gestures getting more erratic and aggressive with every passing second. It was starting to look like a fight would break out, but when the zebra grabbed him by the collar and growled a few words into his ear, the rat dropped his gaze to the floor and raised his hands in a sign of surrender. Otto only heard a bit of what the rat was saying as he walked past, but it sounded like a string of apologies.

A group of kids almost ran straight into him at one point. There were three boys: a horse, a fox, and a mouse. They were kicking a soccer ball around, apparently having invented their own version of the game to play as a three-way free-for-all in the middle of the street. An errant kick from the horse sent their ball flying, until it landed right in front of an adult mare watching them from the sidelines.

She knelt down and picked it up, handing it back to the horse child when he came to get it back. “You need to be careful, honey. You and your friends could get hurt if you play too rough.”

Her child replied, “But you said I can be rough when I—"

“Shhh!” she hissed, her demeanor going from doting to harsh in a split second. “Not now, sweetheart. Right now, you need to play nice with your friends. Now take your ball and go play with them like a good boy. We’ll talk about this tonight.”

She practically shoved the ball back into his hands and sent him back toward the other two, who had heard none of the scolding the horse boy just got. She glanced around, her eyes narrowing when she saw Otto in a clear look of “mind your own fucking business.”

As he passed by this, Otto couldn’t understand why he felt like something was creeping up on him, but he couldn’t shake it. It was as if there were something in the air affecting his head. It just felt like—

“IT’S ALL WRONG!”

‘The fuck?’

Otto followed the sound of the shouting voice to see a deranged-looking tabby cat standing on a box. He was wearing what looked like the tattered remains of an attempt at a priest’s robe. One hand clutched at a string of wooden beads around his neck, while the other wildly waved a thick book in the air.

‘Ah, great. A lunatic street preacher.’

“DO NOT BE FOOLED, MY BRETHREN!” the cat screamed. “A SCOURGE HAS ENTERED OUR SOCIETY! IT SEEKS TO DESTROY US FROM WITHIN! I HAVE SEEN IT! I HAVE SEEN! A GREAT SHADOW COMES TO STAMP US OUT! NOT A PAW OR A FOOT, BUT A HOOF, MY FAITHFUL! BEWARE THE SIGNS!”

Otto had stopped to watch the insanity for a few moments, but in doing so, he made the mistake of making eye contact with the crazed preacher.

“YOU THERE! YOU KNOW, YES?! YOU HAVE SEEN!”

‘Oh, god damn it.’

“YES, I CAN SEE IT! I CAN SEE—”

It didn’t seem possible, but somehow, the man’s eyes got even wider than they already were. They bulged out of their sockets desperately, and Otto worried for a moment that he was about to watch them pop out entirely.

Suddenly, the cat reached out and pointed across the street with a gnarled finger. “THEY HAVE COME! THEY SEEK TO DESTROY US! DO NOT ALLOW THEM, MY CHILDREN! DO NOT ALLOW THEM!”

There was no doubt in Otto’s mind that the cat was insane, but just out of morbid curiosity, he followed his gaze to the other side of the road. Weirdly, he was met with the sight of a pair of horses in dark black suits and shades. Neither moved a muscle. They simply stared back at the preacher from behind their glasses, betraying no emotion.

‘Okay, that’s some weird-looking shit,’ Otto thought. ‘Whatever this is, I don’t want to be a part of it.’

He resumed his walk, now with a significantly quicker pace as he put distance between himself and the shouting preacher. Maybe a chat with Norman would help him clear his head.

………………..

Otto hurried the rest of the way to The Shore’s Pot, unable to shake the paranoia clinging to him. That preacher was clearly unhinged, and yet, as much as he hated to admit it, something about the deranged feline’s words was resonating with him. He didn’t know why, but there was a definite feeling of wrongness in the air.

The streets were quieter than normal. Traffic was sparse, and there were only a few furs out and about. None of them spoke a word, instead just keeping to themselves. On one of his usual hungover trips to Norman’s café, that would have suited Otto just fine, but today, it was a bit unnerving.

He had never been so relieved to see the coffee shop’s familiar awning. If nothing else, it promised him an escape from the strange quiet that had descended upon the world.

He stepped across the threshold, ready for the usual wave of chatter to wash over him. This time, though, it was more like a weak splash. Many people stood, sat, and ate silently, and the few who spoke did so in hushed tones.

Otto tried to make eye contact with anyone, hoping that he might get some hint of what was going on, but no one seemed to pay him any mind. It was strange, and the worst part was that he couldn't even place why it was strange. It wasn't like everyone in the city was normally kind and friendly. Most days, it was easy to feel invisible with how little strangers would interact with you. But something inside Otto told him that this was different. Something intangible lingered in the air, prickling faintly at the back of his neck.

Fortunately, there did seem to be a few people immune to whatever spell had fallen on the crowd. A couple of customers were chattering loudly on their phones or with the furs accompanying them, although their voices seemed almost magnified in the odd quiet.

Of these few lively furs, the most cheerful was James. Maybe it was just him keeping up a façade for his job, but the skinny horse showed no signs of even noticing the diminished atmosphere around him. Instead, he greeted each guest with a smile, whistling as he switched from working the register to preparing coffees, his high-pitched voice carrying easily through the quiet room each time he called out a name.

Otto’s discomfort was only growing with every second. He needed to see Norman now, if only to find somewhere normal to get his bearings. Maybe the older badger would have some sort of insight into what was going on.

As he approached the door to the back, Otto didn’t even acknowledge James. In his increasingly unsettled state, he wasn’t interested in wasting time talking to the twinky equine.

James took notice of the dalmatian, though, and called out, “Oh, Otto! How’s it going?”

Otto just kept going, but oddly, James seemed to take his silence as encouragement. “Feeling good, Otto? Need something to drink? I could put something special together.”

‘Stupid fucking horse,’ Otto thought. ‘Is he really too thick to take a hint?’

He turned the handle on the door and pushed, never acknowledging James. There was a sudden edge to the horse’s voice this time as it rang out in the hushed space. “Otto, are you listening? Otto! Come here!”

Everything got quiet as the door shut behind Otto, sparing him from the prissy horse’s protests. ‘Who the hell does he think he is? He’s a fucking nobody. He makes coffee all day, and he thinks he gets to shout at me like that? Norman needs to do something about him.’

Shaking his head, Otto stepped forward down the hallway toward Norman's office. Like always, the stacks of boxes lining the walls seemed ready to tumble over at any moment. Otto’s foot suddenly caught on something heavy, and he tripped, arms flailing wildly as he fell forward. Thankfully, he caught himself before his face smashed into the floor, but his right hand landed in something sticky.

He looked over to see the box he tripped over. It was turned over on its side, a few bottles of some syrup spilling out across the floor. One of them had shattered, and its contents were now soaking into the fur of Otto’s right palm. Based on how sticky it was getting, Otto guessed that the spill had been left out for a while.

‘Gross,’ he thought, pulling himself to his feet and trying unsuccessfully to wipe off the sticky gunk on a nearby box. ‘Isn’t that horse supposed to clean that kind of shit up?’

His irritation grew with every step toward the door of Norman’s office. On some level, even he could recognize that his outrage was overkill, but the reality was that it was a welcome distraction from the unease that had been growing in his gut all day. As long as he didn’t have to dwell on the enigmatic feeling of something being off, he was happy to use any scapegoat he could find.

Finally, he was back in front of the office. He went for the doorknob as usual, but just like last time, it was locked. He knocked on the door and waited for the badger to answer. Nothing.

Otto tried knocking again. It was still dead quiet on the other side of the door.

“Norm?” he called out quietly, unease returning to the forefront of his mind. “You in there?”

It remained silent for several seconds, but then Otto heard a quiet bang from inside the room, as if something had just been knocked over. He thought he heard a voice, although it was far too low for him to make out any words. Footsteps began to approach, slow but even. Finally, he heard the click of the lock, and the door swung open to reveal Norman on the other side.

Norman looked more or less the same as usual, but as Otto gave him a once-over, little things flagged to him as odd. The badger’s usually tidy fur stuck up in several tangles, as if he hadn’t brushed it in a while. His shirt had a few new wrinkles, and one or two of the buttons appeared to be missing. His slacks were in a similar state, creases marking the surface of the pants that Norman typically ironed to perfection. It was nothing too crazy, and on most people, it probably wouldn’t have been noticeable, but for Norman, it was odd to see.

The badger stared at Otto blankly for a few moments, as if trying to piece together who the dalmatian was. Finally, after a few moments of awkward quiet, Norman’s eyes refocused, and he seemed to see Otto for the first time.

“Oh, Otto…,” he muttered, “come in.”

Otto followed Norman as he shuffled back toward his desk. Norman’s gait was unusually wobbly, teetering back and forth as he walked.

“Uh, you okay, Norm?” Otto asked.

“…Hm?” Norm responded slowly, his voice tumbling out of his mouth with little fervor behind it. “Oh…, yes, yes, I’m fine.”

When the badger reached his chair, he almost seemed to go limp, allowing himself to simply drop into the seat. Otto took his place in the chair across from Norman, still scanning over the older male with his eyes to take note of every little inconsistency.

‘It’s probably okay,’ he told himself. ‘I’m just getting paranoid because of how weirdly quiet things have been. I’m just nitpicking details that don’t mean anything.’

“So…,” Norm said, “what do you need? More pills? It hasn’t been that long…,” he scrunched his face, apparently having to devote a lot of effort to recalling the passage of time, “…has it?”

Otto shook his head. “No, I’ve still got plenty of the pills. I just… I don’t know, I guess I wanted to check in and see how you’re doing, and maybe have a talk about some stuff that’s been bothering me.”

“Stuff?” Norman muttered. “What stuff?”

“It’s…,” Otto hesitated. How could he say this without making himself sound crazy? “I don’t know, it’s just like something’s off. Like something in the air.”

“A smell?”

“No, not like that. It’s like, this feeling hanging over me. Like everything is getting quiet. Like people are changing somehow.”

“Changing?” Norman’s eyes suddenly grew more intent on Otto, as if a spark had just been reignited deep behind them. He leaned forward, his whole body getting more tense.

“Yeah, changing,” Otto said. Not even he was sure what he meant by it, but he kept going, just wanting to get it all out. “Everyone is like… I don’t know, subdued? Like something’s sucking the life out of them.”

“Are you sure?” Norman asked. “Maybe some people are just quiet.”

“I’m sure,” Otto insisted.

Norman shifted in his seat. “Well, who knows? Sometimes, folks act odd in the city. Lots of crazies and oddballs around here. Maybe you’re just running into all of them at once today.”

“I don’t think so,” Otto said. “People are definitely acting different. Not everyone, but a lot of them. It’s not just that they’re quiet, and they aren’t doing anything weird, exactly, but it’s more like a switch has been flicked off inside them.”

For a moment, the blank stare that Otto gave him when he first arrived came to mind, but he set the thought aside and continued, “There was some guy screaming about how everything is wrong, and there’s some sort of, I don’t know, conspiracy going on. And at first, I figured he was just some raving lunatic. But walking down the street, and in your shop, with that weird feeling I keep getting, I can’t help but wonder… does he know something? Is something actually going on, or is it just in my head? And I saw these horses in suits just watchi—"

“Norm!” a familiar, high-pitched voice called from behind. Otto turned to see James standing in the doorway, arms crossed as he leaned against the frame.

‘Fucking limp-dick sissy, interrupting like you own the place,’ he thought, an angry heat growing in his chest. ‘Better mind your own business before Norman chews you the fuck out.’

“Um, yes, James?” Norman answered quietly. Otto’s head whipped around to face him again. The badger looked like he had deflated, the energy he had just shown fizzling into nothing. His eyes were fixed on the horse, but they kept flicking down for moments at a time, as if he couldn’t bear to maintain eye contact.

‘What the…?’

“I need you for something,” James said. He gave no more detail before turning and leaving.

Norman grunted as he stood up quickly. Otto could have sworn he heard a few pops from the older badger’s joints at the sudden movement, but Norman didn’t seem to notice as he walked around his desk and toward the door.

“Wait, Norm!” Otto exclaimed. “You’re not just gonna drop our talk because that fag wants you, are you?”

Norman stopped and looked at him. “Um… I… I need to go take care of it,” he said, his brow furrowing in an almost confused expression. “I don’t know about your problem. Maybe somebody else you know can help?”

He didn’t even wait for Otto to respond before hurrying out the door. Otto was left there, jaw agape, trying to process what just happened.

‘I thought Norman hated James’s guts,’ he thought. ‘What the hell is going on?’

………………..

As the rest of the day passed, Otto wandered the city, pondering that question. The same uneasy feeling remained deep in his gut the entire time. The more he dwelled on it, whatever doubts he had that something was wrong slipped further away. All around him, people appeared more lethargic, as if they were asleep with their eyes open. They barely spoke, and when they did, there was so little behind their voices that even the dalmatian’s sensitive ears couldn’t make out what they were saying. If he tried to speak to them, they would either ignore him completely or stare silently at him until he gave up.

The later it got, the more people appeared affected by whatever was happening. Early in the day, it was less than half of the furs out and about, although he noticed that they usually appeared in clusters. He might go half an hour seeing nothing unusual, doubt starting to set in, and then suddenly find a group of people just standing around silently.

By the time the sky began to shift from blue toward orange, though, it was like there was always at least one oddly quiet person in sight, and usually more. Sometimes, everyone around him seemed off. There was no question left in his mind that something was going on, and whatever it was, it was spreading.

He sat down at a bus stop to take a moment and gather his thoughts, trying to ignore the unnatural quiet. On any other day, the air would be filled with the noises of the city. He never really noticed how loud that was until now.

‘I’ve gotta figure out what’s going on,’ he thought. ‘But how?’

Thinking through what little information he had, and everything he saw that day, one memory stuck out in his mind.

‘That preacher. He knew something.’

It was a long shot, but it was a lead. It wasn’t like he had anything better to work with. Otto stood up, mentally plotting out a course through the city’s sidewalks and alleys that would take him back to where he first saw the frenzied tabby cat.

He avoided eye contact as he walked, but he swore he could feel glassy stares on him from all around. It made his skin crawl. The sensation built up, getting worse and worse, until he eventually hit his breaking point and ducked into an alley. Out of sight, he tried his best to settle down. With a few deep breaths, he was able to relax a bit, although his fur still stood on end and his heart still thumped nervously in his chest.

Right as he turned to leave, he heard a noise from deeper in the alley. It sounded like a voice, but there were no words. It was more like a muffled yelp.

‘What the hell was that?’

He heard it again. Like someone trying to yell while gagged with something. It sounded like trouble, and even though he knew the smartest thing to do would be to walk away, with everything else going on, Otto just had to know what it was.

He kept close to the wall, ducking behind every trash bin and pile of waterlogged cardboard boxes he passed as he snuck toward a bend in the alleyway. The sound was much closer, now, just around the corner. On top of the first, muffled voice, there were two others, speaking in low tones. They were too quiet for Otto to make out, but they had much more energy than he had heard from people all day.

‘Maybe they aren’t affected by whatever’s going on,’ he thought. ‘This could be my chance to find others who can tell something is off.’

With that thought, he cautiously peeked around the corner. As he realized what he was seeing, though, his jaw dropped, and any thought of reaching out to the furs he was hearing disappeared.

‘What the FUCK?’

In the middle of the alley, hidden behind a building to protect themselves from all but the most determined of prying eyes, were three furs. The shortest was a white rabbit, squished between two much larger horses, one with deep orange fur and the other a light grey. Otto was able to see much more of the rabbit than he had any desire to, thanks to the fact that his skinny jeans were currently in a heap at his ankles, and his shirt was soaking up dirty water beneath the orange stallion’s hoof.

The rabbit’s nudity left him vulnerable to the grey-furred horse behind him, and the heavily built equine was taking full advantage. His hips rocked back and forth, meaty slaps ringing out each time his hips met the rabbit’s ass. On each thrust outward, Otto could see his jet-black shaft until it buried itself home again. It was huge, yet somehow, the rabbit was able to take it all. The rabbit’s own, much smaller erection bobbed eagerly in time with every thrust, beads of precum flicking off the tip onto the ground. The muffled noises that first tipped Otto off were coming from the femme bunny, muffled moans leaking past the hands clamped over his muzzle.

The orange horse was standing in front of them, an equally hefty cock sticking out through his zipper as he jerked off. He chuckled, looking deep into the rabbit’s eyes.

“Needy lil’ bitch,” he said. “Lemme get a shot at that throat, man.”

The grey horse grunted, replying without interrupting the rhythm of his thrusts. “He’s a noisy one. Might attract too much attention if I uncover his mouth.”

“It’ll just be for a second. I’ll plug him up before anyone notices,” the orange one insisted.

His companion mulled it over for a second before grinning, “Fine. I wanted to see this one get spitroasted anyway.”

He pulled his hands back along the rabbit’s face, hooking his fingers into the smaller male’s mouth along the way to tug it open. Moans immediately spilled out of him, filling the air and ringing in Otto’s ears. The sound was quickly cut off as the orange horse’s flared cockhead slid past his lips.

The horse stopped with his tip inside the rabbit’s warm maw, leaning his head back and sighing contentedly. He stayed like that for a few seconds, letting the bunny suckle on his manhood, the other horse’s thrusts sliding the twink’s wet tongue along the underside.

“What are you waiting for?” the grey horse said. “You wanted to fuck his face, so fuck his face already.”

With that, he moved his hands to the back of the rabbit’s head and pushed. As the thick tip of a horse cock slammed against the entrance to his throat, a cross between a gag and a whine managed to force its way out of the rabbit. The sound devolved into gurgles and moans as the orange horse stopped holding back, taking hold of the rabbit’s ears and shoving his full length into his tight throat.

“Fuck yeah,” he huffed. “Gonna bury every inch in your fuckin’ face, slut.”

As he started to rock his hips, working up to match his friend’s powerful rhythm, Otto slid back around the corner. His face was flushed with embarrassment, and it felt like an iron weight had been dropped on his chest. ‘What in the actual fuck?’ he thought. ‘As if shit weren’t weird enough, now I’ve gotta see that nasty shit?’

He clamped his hands over his ears, trying to deafen himself to the sounds of rough gay sex happening not ten yards away from him. He snuck back the way he came, having to work overtime to ignore the instincts telling him to get away as fast as possible. He didn’t want them to hear him.

By the time he was about halfway back to the street, the sounds had gotten distant enough that he figured he was in the clear, and he took off at a full sprint. Unfortunately, this left him unable to stop himself as he stumbled out of the alleyway and straight into a passing cheetah. She fell to the ground, landing hard on the concrete sidewalk as he caught himself.

“Oh, shit,” he mumbled, his thoughts still occupied by the need to get away from the scene he just left behind. “Sorry about that.”

The cheetah didn’t respond, and as he looked at her for the first time, Otto was greeted by another blank stare. It was like she barely even noticed that she had fallen.

“Hey! Out o’ the way!”

The cheetah’s ears immediately perked up at the sound of a deep, gruff voice. A zebra was unloading a large box from a nearby truck, and she was now directly in his path.

“S- sorry,” she said quietly, pulling herself to her feet with a sudden vigor. She began to walk away, but she froze as the zebra spoke again.

“Stop. Get back over here. The three of us are goin’ to have a little chat.” His gaze turned to Otto. “You causin’ trouble, dog?”

Otto clenched his fists, the turbulent emotions swirling around in his head reaching a fever pitch.

“Mind your own fucking business, zebra,” he spat, taking care to put extra venom behind the last word.

The zebra’s eyes widened in apparent surprise for a second before squinting into a dark glare. “Watch your mouth, boy. Keep acting up like that, and someone’s going to put you in your place.”

“Fuck off,” Otto said, flipping off the striped equine as he backed away. “I can do what I want, and you can’t do shit.”

He ran off, ignoring the zebra’s angry shouts as they faded into the distance. He tried to focus on the task at hand, finding that street preacher, but the mental image of the back alley spitroast kept forcing its way back into his head. On the bright side, his desire to get away from everything fueled him as he sprinted. He got the odd glance here and there, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was reaching his goal.

Finally, he turned a corner and saw the familiar box on the sidewalk. There was no preacher on it, though. The tabby cat was nowhere to be found.

‘Damn.’

So much for a lead. As crazy as he appeared, that cat knew something.

‘What did he say again? Something about a hoof? And then there were those guys in suits.’

A creeping feeling prickled at the back of Otto’s neck. It was the feeling of being watched. His head shot straight up and he looked around, not even trying to be subtle as he searched for the cause. His gaze fell on two dark figures across the street. They were a pair of stallions in black suits, pristine white shirts underneath, and matching black ties. Their eyes were hidden behind dark glasses, giving them the appearance of some sort of bodyguards or government agents. And they were staring right at him.

Otto stared back at them, getting more on edge with every passing second. Finally, the stalemate broke when one of the horses leaned over and whispered something in the other’s ear. His partner kept watching Otto as he listened.

The dalmatian backed away, his breaths getting shallow and unsteady as his nerves worsened. ‘Just keep calm,’ he thought. ‘Get the hell out of here, and try not to draw attention.’

He started walking in the direction of his neighborhood, fighting the impulse to run. When he looked over his shoulder, he was relieved to see that they didn’t appear to be following him. They just stood and watched as he left. He was able to settle a bit once they were out of sight, but that feeling of eyes on his back never truly went away.

Otto pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts as he walked. He didn’t really intend to call anybody; he was just trying to keep himself occupied. Plus, maybe the sight of him on his phone would dissuade anybody from stopping him. As he did this, his finger stopped on Kevin’s number.

‘Maybe I could give him a call,’ Otto thought. ‘He’ll listen to me.’

In that moment, all Otto needed was to be heard. He needed someone to help reassure him that he wasn’t crazy. With that in mind, he tapped on Kevin’s contact and brought his cell phone up to his ear.

“Hello?”

Relief washed over Otto as he heard the beagle’s familiar voice. Kevin sounded the same as always, his voice lacking the passive, distant tone that Otto was hearing more and more of as the day went on. Whatever was going on, it hadn’t changed Kevin.

“Kevin? It’s me, Otto,” the dalmatian said.

“I know, man. I could read the caller ID. What’s up?”

Otto hesitated for a moment. Even if Kevin sounded normal, there was no telling whether he was picking up on the same odd feeling as Otto. He might think Otto was losing his mind.

‘Then again, maybe I am losing my mind,’ Otto thought. ‘Best to just spit it out.’

“Hey, Kevin,” he started, “have you been noticing anything… I don’t know, weird? Like, have people been seeming off to you lately?”

There was a pause. As it stretched on, Otto worried for a moment that the call had gone dead. Just as he was taking a breath to speak again, though, Kevin’s voice came through. “Uh… yeah, I guess so. Things were a little quieter than usual around my place yesterday. Don’t know about today, though.”

“Why not?” Otto asked.

“Oh, you know,” Kevin replied, smugness oozing from his voice like a thick slime, “met a chick at a bar last night. Smokin’ hot rottie. Says her boyfriend just stopped texting back the other day. It’s a win-win. She gets a rebound to get back at the limp dick, and I get to spend all day fucking her.”

Otto bit back a frustrated growl. “Listen, man. I swear, there’s something wrong. Some weird shit is going on, and I don’t know wha—"

“Oh, hang on,” Kevin interrupted. “Someone’s knocking on my door. Let me go see who it is.”

There was a pause, various sounds of motion coming from the other end of the line. Otto heard a few sudden bangs, followed by Kevin’s voice.

“For fuck’s sake, I’M COMING!” A few more seconds of quiet passed, and then Kevin spoke again, “Hey, man. Whoever it is won’t let up until I answer. Let me see what they want, and we can talk later.”

“Wait, Kevin,” Otto exclaimed. “Hold on, I really need to talk—"

He was cut off by the click of Kevin hanging up from the other end. “Fuck!”

He tried calling again. The phone rang several times, until a voice came through on the other end: “Hey, you reached my voicemail. You know what to do.”

BEEP

‘God damn it, Kevin,’ Otto thought.

The walk home felt impossibly long. Otto was on high alert the whole time, nervously flicking his gaze to every passing face, futilely searching for answers. An otter stared at a poster, but from the stillness of his blank eyes, he didn’t seem to actually read it. A pair of horses chatted jovially outside a café, their braying laughter echoing through the still air. A lioness moved to get onto a city bus, but she put up no fight when a mule elbowed his way past her. She stood there, looking almost confused as the bus simply left without her.

By the time he reached his apartment, Otto was glancing over his shoulder every few steps. It felt like something was looming over him, just waiting for him to drop his guard so it could pounce. He locked the door, closed the curtains on all his windows, and he huddled in his bed as the light from outside receded into the darkness of night.

His mind raced, putting together the pieces. A clear pattern was emerging, as odd as it felt. More and more people were succumbing to whatever funk was spreading, but not everybody. Every equine species he saw appeared completely unaffected. In fact, many of them seemed invigorated. Plus, there were those horses in suits he kept seeing, including when that street preacher started rambling about hooves. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

With these thoughts buzzing in his head, it took hours for Otto to fall asleep, but he eventually dozed off, uncertain and deeply paranoid about what the next day would bring.

………………..

That morning, Otto went for a walk like any other day. The feeling of normalcy he got from following a routine helped him feel sane. After a night of barely any sleep, though, his head felt groggy, like it was stuffed with molasses. It was a challenge to stay aware of everything going on around him, so the dalmatian nearly jumped out of his skin as a heavy arm stopped him.

“Otto Richards, may we have a word with you?”

Otto quickly turned his head to see a brown horse in a jet-black suit, matching glasses covering his eyes. The equine’s face was serious, his mouth set in a firm line as he stared back at Otto. A second horse, this one with dark, almost navy-blue fur, stood right behind him. They both towered over him, standing at least a head taller, if not more. Although he couldn’t see how they were built beneath their suits, the breadth of their bodies hinted at the powerful muscles hidden underneath. Otto had never felt so small in his entire life.

“I- I-,” Otto stammered. His words were caught in his throat, his chest tightening as fear set in. ‘Oh fuck. What are they going to do to me?’

The horse began pulling on his arm. “You’re going to have to come with us, Mr. Richards.”

Finally, Otto found his voice. “NO!” he screamed, wrenching his arm out of the horse’s grip. Before either of the horses had a chance to react, he turned and ran.

He heard shouts and the stomping hooves from behind, but he kept his eyes forward as he sprinted like his life depended on it. For all he knew, maybe it did. He did everything he could think of to throw off his pursuers. He ducked into alleys. He jumped fences and squeezed into tight gaps, taking advantage of his smaller frame to get as much distance between himself and the horses.

As he ran, his mind was racing at an equally rapid pace, trying to think of anywhere he could lose them. He might have been able to get a good head start with his frantic retreat, but he could already feel himself wearing out, and although the clopping of hooves was more distant now, it was still there. If he didn’t throw them off his scent somehow, they were going to catch up once his limited stamina ran out.

‘The park.’

It was a desperate play, but it was all he had in the moment. Just a few blocks away, Edd Dean Park stood as a more natural reprieve from the bustle of the city around it. It was full of winding paths and dense forests: probably the best chance Otto had to give his pursuers the slip.

He changed course, taking off in the direction of the park. Unfortunately, although taking a direct route like this would get him there as quickly as possible, it also gave the horses time to chase him without constant turns or obstructions to slow them down. He still had a solid lead over them, but he knew that it wouldn’t last long if he didn’t put everything he had into this sprint.

Fire burned in Otto’s chest as he crossed the threshold of the park’s main gate. His breath was ragged and uneven, and he was practically staggering by the time the wrought-iron bars were out of sight.

‘I can’t keep going like this. I need help.’

He pulled out his phone and dialed the only person he could still trust: Kevin. Maybe the beagle was close enough to intervene. It was a long shot, but at this point, what other choice did he have? As he held the phone to his ear, the dull tone seemed to stretch on for an eternity.

‘Come on, pick up, pick up, pick up, pi—'

“Hey, you reached my voicemail. You know what to do.”

BEEP

‘FUCK!’

The pounding of hooves was getting louder by the second now. Otto looked to the thick woods just off the path. It was his only hope at this point.

Otto threw himself into the brush, cringing at the snapping of twigs and the crunching of leaves. He kept low and pressed his back against a thick tree trunk. The horses were close enough now that he could hear their breaths, heavy and strong, but nowhere near as labored as his. He had to clamp a hand over his own face to suppress the sound, praying that it was enough to avoid detection.

“Did you see which way he went?” one voice asked.

“No. I couldn’t see anything beyond him entering the park,” the other replied.

“He was slowing down. Barely has any meat on him. There’s no way he got far.”

“Someone has to have seen him. Find one that’s been treated already and see what they know. I’ll keep an eye out around here.”

“Got it.”

Otto heard one set of hooves walking away, but the other horse was still nearby. For the moment, it didn’t sound like he was approaching, but the canine knew it was only a matter of time before he started searching. He began to gingerly move away, having to devote all his willpower to suppressing the urge to run. The sound would immediately give him away, and with the little energy he had left, there was no chance of escape if the horse noticed him.

It made his progress painfully slow, but so far, it seemed to be working. The annoyed snorts and aimless pacing of the horse wasn’t getting any closer. Slowly but surely, Otto was getting deeper inside the woods.

A loud ringing suddenly filled the air. Otto’s phone vibrated fiercely in his pocket as the noise blared out.

‘Shit shit shit!’

He pulled it out, almost dropping it in his panic. The words on the screen read, “Kevin would like to FaceTime.”

Otto only had a moment to weigh his need to remain quiet against his desperation for any sort of help. Letting impulse take over, he answered the video call, speaking in a hushed voice, “Kevin, I need you to keep quiet and listen…” His voice trailed off, his jaw dropping at the sight that greeted him.

Kevin’s camera was capturing a close-up shot of someone’s ass, bouncing up and down to spear itself on a hefty horse cock. The stallion bucked up into his partner each time, a pair of fat, leathery balls smacking against their flesh so loudly that Otto worried it would give him away. If that didn’t do it, the cacophony of moans and grunts would.

Before he had a chance to fully process what he was seeing, the camera started to pan up. His view traveled over a male body covered in white and brown fur. He tried to tell himself he didn’t recognize him, but the colors were familiar. By the time he reached the face, there was no mistaking the person getting railed on the screen.

Kevin moaned in time with every crushing blow to his prostate. In addition to the horse pounding him from below, four other equines surrounded the beagle. They rubbed their long shafts all over him, leaving slimy trails everywhere they touched. They paid special attention to his face. Kevin always liked to call it his “lady killer,” but now, it was serving as little more than a rag for the massive cocks pressing in from every angle.

Most disturbing of all to Otto, though, was the fact that Kevin was clearly enjoying it. Wherever his face was visible through the tangle of male flesh, it was contorted into an expression of absolute bliss. Every time one got close enough to his muzzle, Kevin’s tongue lashed out, licking up along the shaft like his entire existence depended on it. His hands were a blur as they hopped from one dick to the next, jerking the horses off to coax more precum to coat his body. Between his legs, the canine’s own erection bounced with each thrust into his ass, smacking against his stomach in a discordant rhythm.

Otto didn’t understand it, but somehow, Kevin had been changed. Once a straight pussyhound, the beagle now looked like the quintessential gay cock slut.

‘This can’t be real. There’s no way.’

He clenched his eyes shut, willing the sight to vanish into his imagination before he reopened them. Unsurprisingly, the same sight was waiting for him when he looked again.

Whoever was holding the camera moved closer while one of the horses grabbed his cock at the base, raising it up high before bringing it down onto Kevin’s face with a meaty slap.

“Don’t forget your manners, bitch,” the horse said. “Say hi to your friend.”

He grabbed Kevin’s headfur and turned the beagle’s head toward Otto. The vacant look in his eyes was horrifically familiar. It was the same look Otto had seen in more and more furs all around. The only light in those brown pools was a spark of lustful fixation.

For a few moments, Kevin didn’t seem to understand what was being asked of him. His brow began to furrow in confusion until a moment of comprehension came over him, and he suddenly became much more animated.

“Oh, Otto!” he exclaimed, his voice wavering as his body rocked back and forth under the force of the stallion rutting. “Where are you? There are so many cocks waiting for you…” He paused to suck on a nearby ballsack for a second. “Haa… It feels so good, Otto. Just let it happen and join in!”

His words were punctuated by an especially loud grunt from one of the horses. Kevin’s ears perked at the sound, and he immediately turned all his attention to the tip of the equine’s cock. He wrapped his lips around the flared head and sucked just as the horse groaned, his hefty shaft visibly twitching as he pumped a fresh load of cum into Kevin’s mouth.

The camera got even closer to give Otto a good look of Kevin’s face as he swallowed. He wore an expression of pure desire, eager to get down every drop. The sight had Otto so distracted that he didn’t notice the crunching of leaves nearby.

“Enjoying a show, are we?”

His head swiveled so quickly that it almost hurt. His dark-furred pursuer was standing there, arms crossed, a triumphant smile on his face. Otto’s heart sank. He was caught.

The horse reached into a pocket and pulled out a small walkie talkie. He brought it up to his mouth and said, “I found him. On my location.”

Otto failed to contain a nervous whimper. His muscles still cried for a rest, and he had little hope left of escape. Even worse, after what he just saw, he had a good idea of the fate that awaited him. His legs trembled, and his chest began to feel impossibly tight.

He willed his body to turn and run, but it refused to budge.

“…n-no… get away…,” he squeaked.

As the horse approached, Otto’s legs finally loosened enough to step back, until he was halted by something big and solid from behind. The horse’s partner was right there, smirking down at the shaking canine.

“Going somewhere?” he asked.

Otto’s voice caught in his throat as the brown horse grabbed him by the shoulder. The dark one stopped mere inches away, his scent creeping into Otto’s nose from beneath his suit. It carried hints of sweat and leather, with an undertone of something like earth. A hand lifted his chin up to stare into the pitch-black lenses of the man’s glasses.

“It’s time for you to learn your place, boy,” the horse said. “All of your kind are going to learn. Equine strength, our strength, is the truest form of power in the world. Next to us, you are nothing. You’re barely worthy of licking the dirt from our hooves. And yet, even vermin like you can serve a purpose…”

He reached into an inner pocket with his free hand and pulled out something Otto had never seen before. It looked a bit like a silver pen, but with a thicker ball at the tip. When the horse pressed a button on the side, the ball began to glow faintly.

Otto just got more nervous as the device was brought closer, now barely more than an inch away from the tip of his muzzle. He tried to muster up what little courage he had left to fight back, but the brown horse behind him tightened his grip until pain lanced from Otto’s shoulder. There was no chance that the dalmatian would escape the hold of someone so much bigger than him. He could only say, “What is tha—"

There was a soft click, and then the ball suddenly flared up. In an instant, Otto’s vision was filled with blinding white light, and not just the words he was saying, but the thought itself was interrupted. His mind was as blank as his sight. Both gradually returned to him over the next few seconds, but they felt… off. Fuzzy. The edges of his vision crackled with a sort of static, only the leering face of the stallion in front of him fully in focus.

‘Wh… what… what… light… horse…,’ His thoughts were jumbled and misaligned, like a jigsaw puzzle tossed carelessly across the floor. He was putting them back together in working order, but it was difficult. Through it all, the horse’s face was the one thing he could fully identify.

‘That… that light… what the hell was that?’

“Hmm…,” the horse hummed, staring into Otto’s eyes. “He’s coming back. Went pretty deep for the first flash, though. This’ll be a good one.”

Otto shook his head, starting to regain a sense of coherency. “What the hell did you just do?”

The horse stared coldly at him for a few seconds before replying, “Of course. I will explain everything...” Without another word, he flashed Otto in the eyes again.

It all went back to white. Blank. Empty. He was lost in this void, tumbling endlessly. This time, it took much longer for the blinding white light to fade. His ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton, so it took a while to realize that the sound ringing out through the air was the laughter of the two things standing around him. Things? No, there was a word for them, he was sure, but words were so slippery.

This time, the process of his mind coming back together felt less like retrieving puzzle pieces and more like throwing them at a wall and hoping they would assemble themselves. He felt like himself, like he could see most of the picture, but something felt out of place. One or two pieces were missing.

As his awareness returned, Otto realized that everything looked much taller all of a sudden. The two big forms towered over him, like titans grinning down at him from on high.

‘Horses.’ The word finally came back to him. With this clarity, he realized the reason they looked so much taller. He had fallen to his knees, his head barely reaching past their waists from this position. He tried to get up, but his limbs felt like they were made of jelly. He tripped over himself, falling back into the dirt. As the pair of horses stepped toward him, a shot of pure fear struck his heart. He couldn’t remember why, but something in his scattered mind screamed that they were dangerous.

“Wh… guh… get… away… stop…,” he pleaded, the words falling out with no real force behind them.

The dark horse knelt down, his shades taking over Otto’s vision. For a moment, his cruel amusement had a hint of something else, something almost tender. Then the device entered Otto’s field of view.

“Cute,” the horse grunted before the next flash blasted Otto’s thoughts away.

There was no way to tell how much time passed as the fractured remnants of Otto’s mind found their way back, pushing and grinding themselves into whatever openings they could find inside his brain. On his way back to consciousness, pieces of his psyche were getting caught in something, like a mesh barrier between his mind and the outside world. Otto didn’t understand, but he knew that he couldn’t move forward with whatever it was clinging to, so he let them go. Without them, he felt light. Free. Whatever they were, he didn’t need them.

The bright white light began to fade, but Otto’s sense of smell returned before his sight. A pair of scents hung heavy in the air. They were familiar to him, but his addled brain couldn’t place them.

‘Sweat, leather, earth.’ He knew he had just smelled this, but where? And why was it so much stronger now? Why was it so… enticing?

As he regained his sight, everything was too blurry to make out at first. The two tall, bulky forms were there, but the word for them had escaped him again. There was something different now, though. Their pants were unzipped, allowing a pair of long, stiffening masts to stick out toward Otto’s face.

‘Cocks.’ The word shoved itself into the forefront of his mind. Once it took hold, it was all he could think about. They filled his vision, each easily a foot in length. He couldn’t take his eyes off them as they bobbed and hardened, his mouth starting to water.

“That’s more like it,” the darker of the pair chuckled. What was the word for them again? Once again, he struggled to get a grasp on it. When one of them swung his cock straight at Otto’s face, though, hitting him with a meaty smack, the impact jostled his brain just enough to jog his memory.

‘Horses.’

‘Masters.’

Once the thought took hold, it wasn’t going anywhere. Anything that would challenge the superiority of the two stallions faded into static. In that moment, Otto could focus on nothing but the pair of warm shafts hovering above him.

“Well?” the dark horse said. “Get to it, bitch. They aren’t gonna suck themselves.”

‘Suck.’

Otto’s mouth hung open, a needy huff slipping out. Both horses grunted softly at the feeling of his breath tickling their cocks. It was just the hint of stimulation, but it was enough to get them riled up as they looked down into the dalmatian’s foggy eyes. The brown one was the first to act, grabbing Otto by the back of his head and smushing his face into the base of the horse’s cock. The canine mumbled into the hot flesh, whatever words he could still put together lost in the horse’s scrotum. It hardly mattered; either it would be a mess of needy whimpers, or they would keep flashing him until his brain was fried to a subservient crisp.

As the horse pulled his head up toward the tip of that cock, Otto’s tongue slid along the length. His first proper taste of horse cock sent his unstable mind reeling. If there had been any resistance left in him before, it was crushed by the overwhelming need that overtook him. He wanted more.

When the tip pressed against his lips, Otto wasted no time. He kissed the drooling cockhead more passionately than any of the past lovers he had forgotten. None of them could inspire this feeling of pure devotion. These horses were like gods to him, and their hard members were holy relics to be worshiped.

With nothing but these ideas running through his head, Otto gratefully accepted the thick cock as it pushed into his mouth. He opened as wide as he could, careful not to let his teeth graze its flesh. He sucked eagerly, each pleased twitch in the horse’s shaft sending a rush of pride to his brain. A steady stream of precum kept him swirling in salty bliss. He gulped it down to make room for more.

While the brown horse’s cock teased the back of Otto’s throat, the dark one was taking up position behind him. Otto felt his pants get tugged down to his ankles. A pair of hands roamed across his exposed rear, pulling his cheeks apart and spreading his virgin tailhole. A tremendous emptiness struck Otto, his pucker instinctively clenching around nothing.

The dark horse snorted, “If you’re going to hog his mouth, then I get to pop his cherry back here.”

‘Please…’

In his current state, he barely even knew what he wanted so badly, until the moment he felt something thick pressing against his back entrance.

‘Fuck…’

It pushed with greater force, splitting him open unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. It plowed into his guts like a battering ram, a current of pure ecstasy running through his whole being as his walls spread to accommodate its girth. The only thing keeping him from screaming his pleasure to the world was the equally thick cock forcing its way into his throat.

‘Please… fuck me…’

And they did. The pair of stallions barely paused for a second when the bases of their cocks met his lips and ass respectively. After that, they rutted him like feral beasts in heat.

Darkness lingered at the edges of Otto’s vision as he choked on horse cock again and again, but each time it pulled out of his mouth to the tip, the only thing he wanted was for it to hilt itself in his throat again. The horse never disappointed, yanking Otto’s head down as he thrust forward and plunging every inch of his dick back into the warm, wet vice of the dalmatian’s esophagus.

At the other end, the dark horse put his full strength into fucking Otto’s ass. It was a miracle Otto’s innards were able to take the rough treatment, but the dog was in no condition to question it. It all just felt so right. Stuffed full of equine cock, his body rocking back and forth as their hips pummeled his rump and face, Otto was consumed by the peaceful bliss of submission.

Despite the force they put into every thrust, the two horses were careful not to make too much noise. They were trained to avoid notice as they did their work, although they both silently hoped that some hapless fur would stumble upon them. It would be a breach of protocol, but it would give them an excuse to add one more to their conquest for the day.

They had no such luck, though. The mix of breathy grunts and harsh slaps produced by their rough fucking didn’t reach the path beyond the trees. Nobody would come and witness what was being done to Otto.

Otto could feel his throat and stomach bulging out each time the horses thrust into him. There was no hint of resistance left in his body at this point. All he could do was stay there on all fours, letting them use his holes like sex toys. His newfound desire only grew with each crushing blow to his prostate. The ecstasy kept building inside him until it reached a fever pitch, and yet, he never came. Even far beyond the point that would have once sent him blasting his load into a partner, Otto would not orgasm.

It took a few minutes to put together enough pieces to form a thought, but when Otto’s scattered mind finally managed it, the answer became obvious.

‘Equines come first. Equines cum first.’

Of course. Their pleasure was the purpose. His purpose. Nothing else mattered.

Not fifteen minutes ago, the idea would have been ludicrous. Now, though, with his brain reduced to putty by the horses’ device and reshaped to suit their needs, it was the only thing that made sense.

That was why, when muffled whinnies rang out above his head and the horses shoved their bulging lengths all the way inside him, Otto felt more at peace than ever before. As hot, fresh cum filled him from both ends, he accepted it gratefully.

There was no telling how long he was there, on all fours, a noticeable bulge developing in his belly as the horses came inside him. He didn’t even care that the brown horse’s shaft was blocking his windpipe. Even as his vision started to get blurry from oxygen deprivation, all he wanted was more horse seed.

When they finally wound down from their orgasms, Otto was barely aware enough to notice them pulling out of him. It was only when a pair of sloppy horse cocks pressed themselves to his face that he realized his gaping tailhole was clenching on nothing but air. His tongue slipped out without hesitation, running up the length of one, then the other. He barely even noticed the taste of his own ass on one of the dark, mottled dicks. The tastes of horse cock and semen overpowered it easily.

He worked his way along each of their shafts dutifully, licking and kissing every inch of equine flesh. The mess coating them stained around his lips, as well as his cheek each time one felt left out and thrust against his face, but he didn’t care. It felt perfect.

He tried to savor every moment, but eventually, both cocks were clean, their slop either staining Otto’s face or held in his stomach with the rest of their cum.

The horses pulled their pants back up and straightened themselves up, their magnificent shafts disappearing from sight. The brown one tossed Otto’s clothes at him, now quite dirty after being forgotten in the mud.

“Put them on,” he ordered. Otto obeyed, warmth spreading across his backside as the horse cum leaking from his tailhole collected inside his underwear and smeared all over him.

The horse grinned. “Good boy. Now clean that mess off your face. We can’t have you walking around in public like that.”

As the equines turned to leave, Otto got to work, wiping away the white streaks across his face, periodically sucking it off his fingers before going back to collect more. Just before they got out of earshot, Otto heard the brown horse chuckle.

“Well… we can’t have you walking around in public like that yet.”

………………..

“Wake up, slut.”

Otto’s eyes shot open at the familiar greeting. His master knelt over him, the donkey’s striking yellow eyes staring down at him expectantly. With the way the morning light framed him, radiating off his grey fur and the black speckles dotting his face, the equine male was one of the most beautiful things Otto could imagine.

Well, that and the horse cock pressing against his muzzle, its fourteen inches of throbbing, mottled length pointed directly at him. There was no hesitation as he parted his lips and began sucking. Master pressed his head down into the carpet he had been sleeping on and started to thrust in and out of his mouth.

Master must have had an exciting dream, because it only took a few times humping Otto’s face before he was shoving his flared tip into the back of the dog’s throat, his heavy balls lifting to release their load. The feeling of a hot burst of cum shooting down Otto’s esophagus announced Master’s orgasm. He gulped it down happily, each spurt reminding him of the joys of being an object for equine pleasure.

Once Master finished cumming, he pulled out, pausing for a moment to let Otto suck the final dribbles of salty sperm from the tip. He stood up and went about his usual morning routine while Otto sat and waited to be called upon.

After what felt like an eternity of stillness, Master emerged, his mane washed and meticulously brushed, his fur almost shining in the light, and his flaccid member dangling between his legs. Like most equines, he was bottomless, although a plain shirt and jacket covered his torso. He reached into a nearby closet and pulled out a collar and leash. Otto lifted his head to give the donkey easy access, satisfaction washing over him as the collar fastened around his neck. Master gave the leash a gentle tug, and Otto followed on all fours out the front door of what had once been Otto’s apartment.

It was a beautiful day outside. The sunlight shined down, its warmth pleasantly soaking into Otto’s exposed fur. As Master walked, Otto trailed behind, his hands and knees now well used to the feeling of crawling on concrete. Both master and pet enjoyed the familiar sights and sounds of the neighborhood waking up and beginning the new day.

A shiny red car sat parked on the side of the road. A rat, his fur messy and unkempt, lay draped across the hood. The entire car rocked in place with the force of a chubby zebra thrusting into the dazed rodent’s tailhole. The portly equine’s stomach pinned the rat beneath him while he ravaged him. The rat’s own belly was getting close to matching the zebra’s in size thanks to how full he was of cum. Otto couldn’t hear much from this distance, but imagining the sound of it all swishing inside the rodent’s stomach had his own penis peeking out from inside its sheath.

Down an alleyway, a ferret laid back against a brick wall. The graffiti that he once left on the wall was gradually vanishing beneath the growing layer of bodily fluids coating its surface, but that was nothing compared to the former vandal himself. His discreet clothing long since abandoned, his body was marked head to toe with semen. His eyes slowly tracked Master as they passed by, but he returned to staring into space once he realized that the donkey wouldn’t add to the collection on his fur.

As Master and Otto continued down the street, they passed by the bus stop. Reggie was lounging back, naked and showing off his toned body in all its glory. His blue jay bounced up and down in his lap, the cub’s uncut cocklet flopping uselessly between his legs. The outline of the horse’s thick cock was plainly visible through the boy’s stomach feathers, but that didn’t dissuade the cub slut as he dropped himself down to the hilt.

The TV store had a typical array of entertainment in its window display. On one screen, a smartly dressed mare described the newly installed government squashing a small pocket of non-equine resistance. The next showed a game show, with two horses competing to shove anthros the furthest down an oversized dildo. A nature documentary about coral reefs. A porno with a young dog, maybe eleven or twelve, taking loads across his face from numerous horse cocks surrounding him. The usual.

Master kicked a ball out of their way, graciously clearing the path for Otto to continue crawling in his wake. It came to rest in a small patch of grass, right next to a trio of cubs. There was a mouse splayed out on his back, mouth hanging open and tongue lolling out. The horse boy above him pinned him down by the neck with one hand while the other was firmly shoved inside the mouse’s tailhole. The equine kid pulled his arm back and forth, punching his toy’s guts and watching the way it made the mouse’s stomach bulge. At the same time, he rocked his hips over and over again, burying his erect shaft in the muzzle of the fox cub beneath him. His balls slapped against the fox’s face with enough force that the sound rang out in the air, harmonizing with the songs of morning birds.

Leaving the sight behind, a new collection of moans and gurgles came from ahead. Just around the next turn, they were greeted by the sight of the preacher cat, naked like so many other non-equines, getting facefucked on the sidewalk. The string of wooden beads that once adorned his neck now dangled from his tailhole. When the horse plunging in and out of his throat pulled out, the cat dutifully licked up and down its surface, servicing his new object of worship.

It wasn’t much further before they reached their first destination of the day. The Shore’s Pot had never looked better, its awning freshly replaced and its windows gleaming in the afterglow of a recent cleaning. Inside, the atmosphere was livelier than ever before, conversation mingling with grunts and moans as equines everywhere simultaneously enjoyed coffee, company, and cumdumps.

Master had chosen the perfect time to arrive. There was no line, so he was able to walk straight up to the counter, dalmatian still tailing him from the ground, and greet the barista, “Hey, James. How’s it hanging?”

Unlike most of the new ruling class, who typically wore clothes on their top halves while not actively fucking somebody, James had chosen to go full nudist. He stood out easily amongst his peers, his feminine frame on full display. He did have one more noteworthy attribute, as Otto had learned, but it was currently hidden inside of a mindlessly groaning badger.

Norman was bent over the counter in front of James, glasses askew on his face and tongue lolling out to rest along the wooden surface. His eyes rolled back into his skull as the horse thrust into him slowly but forcefully. Moans tumbled from his mouth in a constant stream, as if the air was simply getting shoved out of him each time James’s hips struck his rear.

James grunted softly, relishing the feeling of his cock sleeve’s insides for a moment before addressing his customer. “Life is good. This striped asshole treated me like shit from the second I walked through those doors. You have no idea how hard it was not to throw him to the Wipers before his turn.”

“I bet,” Master said, nostrils flaring in indignation. “Did you hear that he used to ban equines from this place before he was threatened with lawsuits? At least the old fucker knows his place now.” He spat on Norman’s face, although the aging badger was too out of it to react.

“You bet your ass he does,” James laughed before professionalism took over. “Anyway, what can I get for you?”

“A large latte,” Master answered. He looked down and considered Otto for a few seconds before adding, “And… oh, what the hell, a Slut Slop for the pet. I’m in a good mood today.”

James grinned. “Coming right up.” He turned to the coffee machine, forcing Norman to stumble along in front of him as he got to work making Master’s order.

Master found an empty table and sat down, giving Otto a welcome opportunity to nuzzle his hefty balls. Otto inhaled deeply to let the heady donkey musk flood his senses. The smell of sweat and sex clung to Master’s groin, and Otto was happy to take in as much of it as he could. He kissed and licked across his owner’s scrotum, taking pride in the swelling of the horse cock above his head.

He was so lost in his service that it felt like only a few seconds before James called out Master’s name. The donkey stood up and went to retrieve his order, leaving the dalmatian to wait beneath the table.

“One latte,” James said, handing a coffee cup to the donkey, “and for the dog…”

He grabbed Norman and pressed the still-impaled badger into the counter. The older male wheezed, but he made no move to resist as James pounded him at full force. James grunted as he hilted himself in Norman’s ass and stayed there. The badger’s moans grew in volume and the corners of his mouth raised into a lust-drunk smile. After a good thirty seconds buried all the way inside Norman, James finally stepped back and pulled out all the way.

Finally, James’s manhood was exposed in all its glory. As a general rule, equine males were far better endowed than non-equines. Master’s own cock stood at an impressive fourteen inches when fully erect, and he was just about average amongst his equine kin. Between James’s legs, though, was an absolute monster, even by their standards. Norman’s stretched rim clung to his shaft as, inch by inch, James pulled out two full feet of thick, hard cock. 

The flared head stuck inside for a moment before slipping out with an audible pop. A flood of cum followed it, gushing out of Norman’s ass. James reached down to retrieve a bowl and dropped it on the counter before hoisting Norman up to join it.

Norman crawled on the countertop, turning himself to give everyone a good view of his ruined tailhole. After being forced to take James’s massive cock near constantly, it had been shaped into a swollen red donut. Its gape put the badger’s insides on full display, molded to perfectly fit James’s shaft and endlessly clenching to stimulate it whenever the equine twink fucked him.

Each twitch of his inner walls revitalized the current of cum ejecting from his abused rim. The first few shots landed across the countertop, until James grabbed Norman’s ass and guided his aim to the empty bowl. It filled up quickly from the river of spunk. Just as it was about to overfill, James pulled a hand back and gave Norman a harsh smack on the rear. The badger’s insides clenched to stimy the flow as best they could while James yanked him down from the counter. It was impossible to stop completely thanks to his permanent gape, but it at least reduced the slimy trail he left behind on the wooden surface.

James slid the bowl over to Master. “One Slut Slop, fresh from the tap.”

Master thanked him and returned to his table while James bent Norman over the counter again. He forced his cock back into Norman’s ass before shoving the badger’s face into one of the puddles of cum he left behind.

“Clean your mess,” the horse ordered as he started to thrust into Norman.

Otto watched Norman lick along the countertop as he was rocked back and forth until Master arrived back at the table. Master set the bowl on the floor before sitting down. “Eat up.”

Otto’s tail wagged as he lowered himself and dug in. Nothing had ever tasted this good to him before. As if a massive helping of horse jizz wasn’t good enough, having it stew in another slut’s ass first just made it taste even better. He gulped down the slimy treat with gusto, a semen cocktail made just for him.

A hoof pressed down on the back of his head gently and pushed him deeper into the bowl. “Good boy,” Master said.

“Thank you,” Otto tried to answer. Given that his muzzle was now shoved into the bottom of the cum-filled bowl, though, a few cummy bubbles were all that made it to the surface.

That was okay. His words didn’t matter, anyway. Only his service did.