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Zeke finds himself running out of time to find a birthday gift for his half-sister Jennique, which is when he figures out a very one-sided deal with a \"friend\". It doesn't work out his way...", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Commission work! Zeke finds himself running out of time to find a birthday gift for his half-sister Jennique, which is when he figures out a very one-sided deal with a "friend". It doesn't work out his way...", "writing": "Zeke taps his fingers on the edge of the hardwood desk, then traces some circles, fingertips catching in the slight blemishes and scarring in the wood. His other hand, pressed up against his cheek, grips it tightly, elbow on the corner. He half-sighs, breath lodged in his throat uncomfortably.\n\n“I'm just...not sure what to get her. I figured, since you're more savvy with money than I am, you've probably given your fair share of gifts?”\n\n“Gift ideas, izzit? Not my usual fare, but hey, I gotta give a repeat customer like you a little helping hand here and there! Hah.”\n\n“You'll help, Richard?” Zeke perks up. It's exactly what he asked for, yet he can't help but be a little surprised.\n\n“Sure I will, buddy. Mutual trust, yanno? You've scratched my back, I can spare some scratchin' back.”\n\nTo anyone else, the man across the table would reek of untrustworthiness; clad with a burgundy, pinstripe suit, his golden tooth shining amidst his other sharp incisors and contrasted against his supple, deep blue skin, voice so saccharine it'd send you into a sugar rush. But why wouldn't Zeke trust this generous man, so eager to lend him all the money he could want when he was deep in his debts, and so eager to give him odd jobs when employment was tough? Sure, the rates he had to pay back were high, the salary he earned low, but that was all part of the business! A man who was kind to him for a change was one to cherish. A friend, even.\n\n“Great! I-I mean, thank you. I figure it should be something...personalized? But, I'm struggling to pin down what that would be for her. She already gets so much from mom, I don't know what niche I could fill.” Zeke puffs. “I've spent so much time thinking with nothing to show, and now it's down to the wire.”\n\n“This is for that half-sis of yours, right? Jennique?”\n\n“Yeah, it's for Jenny...I figure if maybe I get her the right gift, she'll turn over a new leaf for me. At the very least she might hate me a little less. It'd be nice to be proper siblings, and not have to watch my back all the time, with her breathing down my neck, and her boyfriend sneering at me, and–“\n\nRich whistles Zeke to his attention, scowling. “Hotshot, keep me on the outside of all your petty family drama, respectfully. Besides, you're already trailing down the wrong train tracks; a personalized gift is something you get a crush, or a lover, or a long time friend. For a sibling? Eugh. What, you want her to think you're leerin' at her in the shower, peekin' through her keyhole in the mornings when she's changing out of her PJ's?”\n\n“No?!” Zeke erupts in contempt, unable to bite back enough of his sudden embarrassment. It's true he stares sometimes, but in his defense, she's blessed with beauty. Not his fault.\n\n“Exactly. It's freak shit.” Richard leans back in his swivel chair, shoving his crossed legs atop his walnut desk, the soles on his fancy shoes far too close to Zeke's face. His presence is intimidating even past the aloof gesture, his sheer size calling to mind 'orcish' rather than 'orca'. “Whatcha want is somethin' a little more generic. Nothing too meaningful but, just enough to make them know you actually give a rat's ass.”\n\nZeke scooches over to the side in his wooden seat, the legs scraping against a hard floor with a resonance that makes Rich visibly wince – but the two do re-establish some eye contact off of it.\n\n“You think so?”\n\n“C'moooon, I know so. It's standard protocol! It's so normal to give fake, bare-bones presents that it uhh,” he pauses, doing some vague, cyclical hand motion, “it kinda wraps back around to bein' the most meaningful thing you could do, right? Like ugly sweaters for Xmas, if you get me. Anythin' come to mind offa that?”\n\n“Mmm...a box of chocolates?”\n\n“Little too small. And still weirdly flirty...”\n\n“R-Right. Maybe a ticket to...a concert?”\n\n“Like you know what fuckin' bands she listens to. Give her the wrong ticket and you're gonna wake up outside the pearly gates.”\n\n“...Horse...riiiide..?” Zeke trails out, clearly unsure of his own suggestion. Rich seems to react at least somewhat favourably, his mouth contorting in thought.\n\n“Broads do love their horses. I think. Don't quote me on that.” He scoffs. “Trouble is, I'unno if you can get that done on such short notice. Lemme give my contacts a search, see if I can't do a li'l finaglin'.”\n\n“You know a lot of people, Richard!”\n\n“Sure I do, heh.”\n\nHe whips his phone out from his suit pocket, under his lapel. Zeke gets a nice glimpse of the back of that device of his, rose gold with little encrusted gems and jewels that Zeke very easily convinces himself are real. In actuality, the front of Rich's phone is still displaying his lock screen, and he swipes and taps and scrolls at random to give the impression he's doing something worthwhile with his time. A bit of nothing passes when Rich inhales through bared teeth...not the finest of omens.\n\n“Yeah, so, I know some guys who run a ranch a bit down south, they do rides for pretty cheap, but they just got their final slot booked out two days ago and they ain't open for more, not unless someone cancels, say, right now. Short of a miracle, this ain't gonna work.”\n\n“Aw man...”\n\nZeke hangs his head, eyes sinking, ashamed of his own incompetence. One shot, and he missed by a mile. Anything that waited past the next hour of today would surely be taken as a last minute consideration. His head feels hollowed out, inhabited by stress and anxiety and his terrible decisions. Not to mention, he's wasted his own birthday too...\n\nExpectedly, Rich would pity him, at least out of courtesy. But an idea has already sprang to mind.\n\n“Hold up, hotshot.” He smirks, thumbing his chin. “I may just be a miracle worker.”\n\nRetracting his nonchalance from up on the table, Richard scurries over to a side room, leaving Zeke alone, and deathly curious, though the times he's already been told not to snoop around Rich's office also float in the front of his mind, so he doesn't push it, despite the clattering and commotion in earshot behind the closed door.\n\n“There it is!” His voice rings out, followed by Rich excitably slamming the door open, something garishly pink holstered under his shoulder. He shoves it into view on his desk, spread apart in earnest, with Zeke standing up to give it a better look from above.\n\nHis eyes trail across the object, taking note of its countenance; past the eye-strain from its hot pink, chrome-coated colouring, it appears to be a rubbery animal. The long muzzle and rounded snout with a garish grin indicate it's some sort of equine, with the hard-to-miss horn plastered on the middle of its forehead further narrowing it down to a crude depiction of a unicorn, mythical beast of yore. Its head curls back into a luscious, flowing mane, tricoloured pastel pink, baby blue and mint green. The rest of the suit is relatively unassuming, faux-fur lining parts of its coat around the withers and back. The tail is slightly frayed, loose strands of hair draped over its flank, and the hooves seem a little on the small side, but it's quite true to form, built to the scale of a small feral pony, save for the fact it's hollowed out. In fact, it does look about as big as Zeke himself, which is the first tip-off to what exactly is going on here...\n\n“Whaddya think?” Rich grins, readjusting his askew tie.\n\n“What...exactly is this meant to be, Richard?”\n\n“Your ticket outta bein' a shitty sibling!” He strikes back with savage precision. “Yanno, if we're still going with the horse ride idea. Time's runnin' low so, I'd advise you did.”\n\nZeke and Richard share a moment of intentional silence while he tries to interpret what's being asked of him.\n\n“I don't think this is going to hold up anyone for a horse ride...it looks a little limp.”\n\n“No shit it does, that's 'cuz nobody's actually in it yet.”\n\n“Wait, you–“ Zeke stammers with nervous chuckles, “You're not implying we put someone in this and have Jenny ride them, right?”\n\n“Nah, not someone. You.”\n\n“I'm...not getting in that? It's a great pink eyesore, first off. Second, I doubt I could even fit in there...is there even a place you could get in this? I don't see how this thing could be worn.”\n\n“It's pretty inconspicuous, but,” Rich combs the long mane to one side, and traces his finger across the length of the back, his touch across the felt fuzz revealing an impressively well-hidden zipper, hooking it open, “riiiight here. I'm sure a small fry like you'd be easy to squeeze in with room to give, heh~”\n\nBrushing off the thinly veiled insult, Zeke slopes forward, hands on the table to get a closer look; as he does, a strange smell tickles his nostrils, subdued enough from here to be unknowable, and seemingly seeping out from the insides. Cleaning agents, he thinks.\n\n“W-Wouldn't me giving Jenny a horse ride be really weird?” Zeke mutters, a furtive glance to the side giving away a hint of something other than apprehension.\n\n“Kid, you're the only one makin' it weird here. 'Sides, you're fuck outta ideas from the looks of it, and I already got a plan brewin'. You wanna back out now, be my guest, but you're gonna look like a shitty brother, and you've wasted a looooot of my time as it stands...s'pose the choice is yours.”\n\n“...Fine. How are we doing this?”\n\n“Leave the deets to me, but bottom line? You get in this, I bring ya there, you entertain your sis for a li'l while and then 'show up' a little bit after the fact. Perfect crime, she won't even know it's you.”\n\n“How do you know she'll bite, exactly–?”\n\nPractically snarling at Zeke's constant output of noise, he cuts his thought off. “Chrissakes, kid! Questions, questions, questions. Leave the talkin' to me. Soundin' like you got no confidence in me and I don't like it.”\n\nZeke backs down, keeping his hands close to his chest with skittery eyes.\n\n“Money up front, by the way.”\n\n“Huh?” Zeke interjects. Richard snaps back with a breathy cackle.\n\n“Pfft, what, you thought I was gonna let you in on this for nothin'? I don't do free, kid! One-fifty minimum, up front, for the brainpower and time I'm usin' on you, the cost of transportation, actually letting you wear that thing...chop chop.”\n\n“This suit is worth that much?”\n\nThe reality: Rich stole the get-up from a sleazy sex shop take three, four years ago, and what happened in that time frame from then to now is a practical mystery. Of course, he's not going to be transparent about all that when he could crack open a pretty little mistruth instead...\n\n“More!” Rich lies brazenly through grinning teeth. “This bad boy's like, $700 second-hand, and I've been keepin' it well groomed for just the right occasion. See, this's the difference between you and me, hotshot; money talks, and I pick up the call. I know value. You should be thankin' me for the generosity I'm providing you. Now, let's get you in this thing.”\n\nLamenting the 'choice', Zeke fishes out his wallet from his pants for the money...he barely has enough there to pay this sudden, exorbitant cost, and he dares not think about how he'll foot rent this month. Rich greedily snatches the cash from his hand before Zeke even has time to hand it over.\n\n“Thank you kindly~” Richard chuckles to himself, slipping it into one of his breast pockets with the finesse of a true swindler. As he does so, he paces around his desk, standing parallel to Zeke, looking down at the smaller man. It wasn't often Rich would greet his client face to face like this, and the difference in size was a factor, having to stare down at someone more than a foot and a half shorter and likely a third of his weight.\n\nA bead of sweat rolls down the side of Zeke's face, heart stuck between his ribcage...why was a friend like him so intimidating? What was he going to do? Going to say?\n\n“Well?” Rich breaks the silence, rubbing the back of his head in a rare moment of awkwardness. “Get naked. It's that or chafe yourself to death.”\n\n“Wh–” Zeke's face runs alight, needing to triple-take. “Here? In front of you?! I-I'm not into guys!”\n\n“Hey, never implied you were, hotshot. Trust me, whatever's underneath all those femmy clothes is not impressive enough for me to give a shit about, hah.”\n\nZeke bites down hard on his lip, hands shivering. With shaky breaths, he clears his mind of the apprehension closing in around him and begins removing his clothes – hand-me downs from his family, of course, the least feminine stuff he could dig out of his wardrobe that were still in his size. His bare, twinkish chest exposed, nipples perking, his thin and frail arms open and bare, and at the waist, his woefully unimpressive size poking slightly out of the top of his smooth entrance (doing him no favours in looking more masculine), all on full display to an acquaintance. Rich's leering eyes trailing up and down his body like camera lenses set to record.\n\nRich steps towards Zeke, wrapping an arm around his body and effortlessly heaving him up into the air. He can feel the clammy palm pressed flat on his naked back, rubbing off sweat that drips in lines down his backside, wedged far into Rich's orca paunch. As quick as he's lifted, he gets shoved back down again on top of the desk, wrestled into position with his head flush against the open zipperhole. Too late to back out now.\n\nAlready, with his head being forced inwards, claustrophobia sets in. His vision is dark and blurry, the suit innards rubbery and affording little transparency. Trying to find up from down makes the idea of fitting cleanly into place difficult without the baleful guiding hand of his so-called 'friend' coaxing him further inside. As big as the suit may be for someone of his stature, it's a painful squeeze, with Rich leading him by the shoulders forward until his neck breaches past the suit's withers. The smell from before becomes much more overpowering, and it only now hits Zeke what that smell is: sex. Stale, unwashed sex, the noisome scent of dried spunk and spent lust circulating around limited airflow, coagulating in its own nastiness, enough to make him gag. He should've had the foresight to assume this was its true use, but his mind was gripped by charm and by guilt, critical thought cast aside the moment he and his comrade got to conversation.\n\nIt's only now that he – fruitlessly – attempts yanking his body backwards, but Rich's arm has him pinned down with far too much force, and the restrictive equine shoulders close in on him, the anatomies incongruent in a way that keeps him pinned in place. His body is bent at a hurtful angle as Rich manhandles him like one would with a pillow into its case, indifferent to his body's needs for such frivolities as free motion and a straight spine. Zeke's head sets into place, finally, though the thin eyeholes at the front provide only spotty vision to the outside, barely able to make out the paintings on Rich's wall...if that is his wall. Though, there is something prodding at his mouth, silicone but otherwise indiscernible, taking up just enough space to never let him settle fully. He groans, clearing his throat to let Richard know it's gone far enough–\n\nNeeeeigh! From the unmoving mouth erupts a boisterous, convincing neigh, in lieu of throaty grunts. And again, when he speaks, neeeeigh! Only the slightest crackles of a voice-box are ambiently audible, a break in the facade, but only if one knew to listen for them...\n\n“Damn, kid, class act, but save it for the girl!” Rich scoffs, caught unaware of the internal mechanisms inside the suit. Panic begins to set in, Zeke wriggling in place with not much room to spare, his cries for help muffled inches away from being heard.\n\nHis arms are helped into place next, directed into the restrictive tubes of the unicorn suit's forelegs; the further his limbs go, the tighter it is, suggesting an impassable entrance by the time his wrists eke past the knee-height. Not to be deterred at this point, Richard strong-arms his body past the last few inches it needs to nestle into their nooks, stretching his feeble muscles close to their upper limit, punctuated with a detesting whinny! His hands, occupying the space of the hooves, stay balled up, millimetres of wriggle room a luxury. The hooves themselves are wooden inside and outside, perhaps to give the motion of walking a signature 'clop', but it sorely lacks in ergonomics, Zeke's wrists growing sore under the pressure in a matter of seconds.\n\nGiven no warning, Zeke feels his ass stung by the firm force of a large palm, gripping tight against his cushy cheek and pushing against him. If Richard was taking advantage of his immobility to cop a feel, he would have no way of knowing over if he was simply assisting him in. The extra impetus slides his underbelly into place, though it's a dirty fit, his gut held higher than normal to account for the longer leg length of the suit leading up to its stomach. His raspy breaths exude as sputtery whickers as he has to give great thought into the act of taking rancid, cum-scented air into his lungs.\n\nEverything below the waist is last to be dealt with, Richard's greasy hands furthering their reach on his lower body, grabbing hold by his calves in an effort to wrench him into place. His motions show little empathy as he twists Zeke's body at askew angles to squeeze the last of him inside. Zeke's scaly skin catches momentarily in the open zipper, eliciting a yelp of pain from Zeke's throat, and a squeal from the suit's.\n\nOne of the very few places – if the only one – that fits his body in a way that isn't grating is around the flank and buttocks, the curvature of the suit following the same lines as his own in a majority of places. That's not to say it's soothing, however, with two more silicone protrusions on the inside, slicked with grease and grossly sticky, one grazing against his cheeks, the other teasing the bottom of his slit. The entire inside of the crotch is caked with a mix of flaky and gooey stains alike. Zeke's throat winches shut, begging his mind not to linger on the sensation, with a good idea of what it actually is down there on feel and smell alone.\n\nThe final maneuver is with his legs, made to curve at angles not easily supported by his musculature. A very important difference lies in the equine hind-legs of the suit, bending backwards at the hock instead of inwards. Zeke's knee-joints strain trying to keep steady to fit the ungiligrade anatomy, keeping his legs discomfortingly flat and straight, hamstrings made to carry the brunt of the tension. His feet squeeze into the space of the hind hooves, even more restrictive than his hands. Much like an equine, his heels press against the back of the suit's pasterns, standing with the pressure on his toes. No limb will feel good to walk on, and he silently hopes that Rich'll carry him in rather than make him canter behind.\n\nThe sound of the zipper closing shut around his trembling back signals that he's sealed up; in suit, and in fate.\n\nConstrained, Zeke twitches, feeling Richard's hand pat harshly against his back. “Good fit?” He questions.\n\nWhinny!\n\n“Uh, I'll take that as a yes?” Rich scratches at the side of his face. “I got a few last li'l touches to sell this, so, just keep your trap shut until we get there, and follow my lead when we are.”\n\nNoticing Zeke's apparent lack of mobility, he crouches down out of view, fishing through Zeke's discarded clothes still piled haphazardly on the floor to pick out his wallet. There's only a few bucks there, coupled with some loose change, and Rich's conscience (for once) kicks in as he decides whether to rob his struggling client in broad daylight...and then gives his conscience the boot as he decides to pocket every last cent. Cha-ching!\n\nRichard moseys back into his storeroom in the back, digging out a few loose items to complete the look: not part of the outfit to begin with, but to help make this little horsie a pinch more convincing. To help mask the zipper, he brings a saddle atop Zeke's back, concealing the already thin line under a few inches of chapped leather. Dragging the saddle's girth underneath the midriff, he fastens it into one of the notches a little too securely, the strap curving harshly inwards, pushing on Zeke's stomach, forcing even more air out of his lungs. That's not all the abuse his respiratory tract gets though, with Rich soon after tying not one, but two bridles around his face for maximum security – and to compensate for his minimal experience – with both being a couple sizes too small. He gags from the pressure on his neck, sputtering from his voice-box. His forehead is peeled back, head locked into place, with whatever's on the inside beginning to press up against his lips. He desperately cranes himself back, trying to keep it from going inside; he's tasted enough foulness already without his tongue involved.\n\nZeke feels the flooring drop from under him as Rich coils his arm under and around the suit wholesale, hoisting him up with a powerful grip.\n\n“Alright hotshot, we're movin' out. Try not to get in my way too much, capiche?”\n\nPast his veiled eyes, the environment is a blur, but Zeke can pick out enough to tell he's outside now...and, is he going back in? No, no, that's Rich's ride he's getting slotted into. Perhaps if he wasn't practically blindfolded, he could comment on how overblown on vanity the interior was...\n\n“Oh, huh, lemme just...”\n\nRichard is able to easily adjust Zeke in his suit, rotate him and push him in and out, but despite that, can't puzzle out a way to fit him into the passenger side cleanly without some overlap onto the driver's seat. He scritches at the back of his neck, only a little sorry for what he has to do next.\n\n“Well, hah. You ain't fittin' in the front, so I guess you're going in the back with all the other important shit. Don't worry, I'll try and drive safe, won't run any reds~”\n\nUnable to parse Rich's words in time, the clicking open of his car's trunk grabs his attention, tight. His back impacts against metal, and unsorted junk pokes into his suit harshly enough for him to feel it on his skin. Not a moment later, he's submerged into darkness.\n\nHis yell is drowned under the sound of a car engine whirring to life, pistons pumping vigorously.\n\nThis is gonna be a rough ride.\n\n\nZeke squints, eyes rejecting the sudden, harsh light blazing in his retinae. Unbeknownst to him, a stray speedbump – or was it a pothole? – had taken him clean out a few minutes into the drive. His body aches, peppered in little bruises and abrasions, assuming the worst in being bounced around like a pinball while he was unconscious.\n\nRank air fills his nostrils...he finds it strange that he's breathing nasally and not through his mouth. The back of his throat tickles, a rubbery dildo prodding into his uvula, close to making him choke. Its taste is...revolting, so many different things at once he can barely pick out what it is. There's not the room inside the suit to pull his neck back either, as much as he wants to dislodge it.\n\nClick click! His bearings are forced onto him prematurely, with a thick hand beckoning his attention with loud, urgent clicks.\n\n“Rise and shine, kid!” Richard grins, relieved to see the unicorn suit survived the journey in one piece. “We're goin' in soon. Get your game face on.”\n\nThe irony is not lost on him; no game face, only a perma-affixed grin.\n\nHauled out, his pseudo-hooves press against the pavement with a clack. His wrists and tips of his feet grinding against the wooden bottoms, his face grimacing. Now, he has to actually walk like this, with Rich clasping one hand around his reigns. Every individual stroke forward presses back up into his weary limbs. As he shambles onwards, the phalluses prodding close to both of his unoccupied holes try and slip into place, though he has enough space to resist their entry, and enough strength in him to clench hard enough.\n\nWith Zeke trailing right behind, Rich places his finger on the buzzer. Ding dong!\n\nAn anxious minute passes by, and the door swings open. Expectedly, on the other side, Jennique stands, squinting face plastered with ardent protest from the moment she could make herself seen. Her hand grips her hip. She's quite glammed up for her birthday, in a new jacket, new pants, and a birthday tiara atop her head with golden girl privilege written all over it.\n\n“No fucking solicitors.” She mumbles. Jenny gets very close to slamming the door on Richard, but he slides his shoe into the door frame, barring her from weaselling out of the interaction.\n\n“Ah bah bah!” Richard verbally interlopes, shaking his finger disapprovingly, working his magical charm. “Not a solicitor, ma'am, so if you'd hear me out...”\n\n“Ugh. It's my fucking birthday. What the hell do you want?! If you take another step inside you're gonna get your shit kicked in, asshole.”\n\n“That's certainly some feisty language, missus.” Rich leans back, palms up in front of himself, not scared but, visibly disconcerted. “Your birthday it is! That's precisely why I'm here, ma'am: here to chaperone a gift your way, as luck may have it.”\n\n“What does that even mean?” Jennique tuts, “'Chaperone a gift'...are you too stupid to, I dunno, mail me it instead?”\n\n“There was a last minute change of plans, and they couldn't deliver it in person. For the record, it's not my gift.” Richard pauses, needing to word this next bit...carefully. “Let's say, you have a secret admirer. In the friend sense! I don't imagine they would, yanno, wanna tread on any toes romantic-wise, but, someone lookin' to spoil you a bit. You're the type for lavish gifts, right?~”\n\nThe appeal to ego seems to resonate with her; Jenny's posture relaxes a bit, leaning further curious than annoyed.\n\n“Yeah, you aren't wrong with that at least. So like, what do you even have? Hand it over.”\n\nRich swoops to the side, his figure before conveniently concealing the item behind him. Jenny creaks the door open a little more to get a better look. Bright pink, standing out significantly against the outside backdrop...an unassuming, flashy, unicorn.\n\nShe snickers. “Pff...what is that? Looks gaudy as hell.”\n\n“Looks can be a little deceiving. This bad girl is a top-of-the-line unicorn animatronic! Fresh offa the presses too, firsthand. Market price of like, $1,500, give or take. Gotta say, crazy what them tech companies can make nowadays, hah!”\n\nNot at all the price that Zeke heard first...and he can't be sure if Rich was lying to him or if he's sprinkling in even more extreme embellishments to help sell his fraudulent story. Past that though, his nervousness joins the rubbery member in catching in his throat. Jenny's unaware it's him in there, but her gaze on him makes him sweat even harder under the blazing sun. He is caked in his own anxiety.\n\n“So like, what do I do with it?”\n\n“What do you usually do with a horse, ma'am?” Rich sweetly replies, a little hint of condescension in his voice.\n\n“Uhh...ride it? Pet it? If I wanted to play with horses I'd go to like, a barn or a farm or some sort of like, horse-keeping place.”\n\n“That is quite true, miss! But, the...unique visual design of this animatronic notwithstanding, it's said that the tactile experience of this piece-o'work is second to none. It really is like havin' a small pony in the comfort of your own home, without the hassle of feeding it, nurturing its behaviour, yadda yadda, all the other nasty and unwanted parts of ushering an equine friend that I'm sure a gal like you doesn't feel like keepin' track of.” He chuckles, blurting out a chaser, “And it's free! Courtesy of your mysterious benefactor and all. You wouldn't turn down free, would ya?”\n\nJennique tuts, arms crossed. “Guess I wouldn't. Does it like, neigh and stuff?”\n\n“Wouldn't be realistic without the capability to neigh, right?” With that, Richard holsters the reigns atop Zeke for just a moment, keeping it open to give the suit a firm flank spank. The sudden motion jolts in about an inch of a member into his puckered hole, eliciting a yelp, inevitably muffled by the suit's internals and emitting from the face as a new sound entirely: Neiiiiigh!\n\n“Eh, fuck it, I'm sold. Give it here!”\n\nWhiningly impatient, Jenny grabs hold of the loose leash and yanks it, harsh, pulling Zeke in by the neck, stumbling but keeping his footing. His extremities are sore, the bottoms of his wrists aching uncomfortably, but he has to keep up the façade if he wants to impress his sister...at least that's what he keeps telling himself in his head. Richard saunters in after the two of them, shutting the door politely.\n\n“Ugh, did I say you were allowed in?! Bounce, dummy.”\n\n“Well ya didn't, however, I'd like to make sure everythin's in workin' order. If it's defective or ends up malfunctioning, you'd want someone who can uhh, set stuff right for you.”\n\n“So like...” Jenny puts a finger to her cheek, while leaning her weight on top of a shivery Zeke. “...are you like, a chaperone guy, or a businessman, or a member of a company or what? You know a lot about this trashy thing.”\n\nSurprisingly, she cuts right through a lot of Richard's lies. He flaps his hands in the air in a shrug, dropping his professionalism a couple notches. “Well, I didn't wanna make it look like shit, right? I ain't no salesperson really, just a guy helpin' a client. I looked at the specs and stuff on his behalf.”\n\n“M'kay.” Shrugging it off, Jenny slides her butt up onto the saddle, more and more of her body weight pressing down onto Zeke, limbs trembling as he struggles to keep up with the extra downforce. His soft whimpers don't even register, trying to keep himself quiet out of fear. The voice-box sure is a blessing in disguise, shielding him from getting found out when his unsteady noises grow too loud.\n\nJenny mounts him fully, legs to either side, control at her fingertips. She pulls the reigns hard again, forcing the head and shoulders to snap up into place, the bridle throat-latches razing Zeke's neck. His airways crackle at the pace of his breaths, his upright forelegs at risk of giving way, so he rears back on his actual legs to counterbalance.\n\n“S'got springlocks and a metal frame and all that, it's real impact resilient. Still, that ain't to say you should go outta your way to fuck it up, treat it like you would an actual stallion, right?”\n\n“So it can take a beating?” Jennique, perhaps choosing to ignore the second half of Rich's statement, sidles up her heel and brings it back down against the side of the suit, impacting against Zeke's ribs. He recoils, toppling into a leftward stumble. One of his wrists press a little too hard into the wood and something clicks. Harsh, sudden, and painful.\n\nNEEEeeeigh--! His forearm feels like it lit on fire. Of course, coupled with a loud neigh. It's hard to stand, hard to breathe, mind addled with overstimulation and mustiness and aches all piling atop each other. His frail murmurs exert as equine scoffs.\n\n“Well, y'know, y'could do that instead, cowgal. I uhh, don't judge!”\n\n“Hey, this thing's like, soooo expressive! Maybe I've changed my mind on it.”\n\n“You could lead it around, pet it some maybe? I don't think a lotta equestrian folks would let kickin' your mount in the ribs slide.” Rich attempts to try and redirect Jenny to something a little less destructive; the suit is whatever, but he'd hate to have one of his more obedient clients out of commission.\n\n“Ugghhhhh, I wouldn't do this to a real horse! Do you think I'm an abusive asshole or something, huh?!” Jenny punctuates her 'rhetorical' with a smack to the back of the suit's head. Zeke's vision blurs over a little, ears ringing. The dildo lodged in his mouth grazes his uvula. Whinnyyyyy...\n\n“Hah, 'course not!” With...minimal conviction.\n\n“I'm like, nice to the people I hang out with and everything. Well, if they deserve me being nice to them.” Jenny scoffs to herself. “People like my stupid ass half-brother – eww, by the way! I do not like thinking about the fact we share family – they kinda deserve what comes to them. He's like, a total pushover and everything...”\n\nZeke's heart sinks so low it might as well burrow itself out the suit and ten feet under the floorboards. Completely and utterly unrequited, and right in the middle of this horribly selfless display.\n\n“He's uhh – well, I didn't know you had a half-brother! Seems...” Rich is lost for words.\n\n“Oh don't even start on him!” She grips the reigns hard, yanking his head to the side. “It's his birthday today too! The little rat probably ran off to his hoe of a girlfriend instead of spending the day with me...didn't give me a gift, didn't even say hi, what a fucking jerk.”\n\nInhaling through his teeth, and a hand behind his head, Richard replies in meek agreement, “He must be a real uhh...piece of shit, yeah? What'd he do to warrant that sorta treatment?” Somehow Zeke hadn't informed him the two of them shared a birthday...doubtful it would've stopped him from doing as he's done; the lack of conviction in following Jenny's thoughts is mostly because Zeke's in earshot.\n\n“Don't!” Jenny tuts, grabbing the suit by the scruff of its mane, balling up her fist. “Even! I'd be here like, allllll day if I tried. I like, wanna enjoy my birthday?”\n\nAll the pushing and pulling is taking a toll on Zeke, tears welling in his eyes. It's too much. Sweat leaking from every little scale, nose stuffy, body weak. He curses himself for getting in this situation with no out in sight, then again for being too dumb to think of anything better.\n\nHe grows shaky, noticeably so, his arms and legs starting to fault. Rich and Jenny catch on right away.\n\n“What's--”\n\n“Th-The uhh, the servos, they--”\n\nThe two of them cut each other off, Jenny glaring at him.\n\n“It might not have a lotta battery in it, so the servos are havin' trouble keepin' up with the sudden weight on it--”\n\n“Did you just call me fat?”\n\n“Absolutely not, ma'am--!” Rich stammers. “Those mooks usin' it last musta not put it on charge is all. You are a very fine, slim, well-defined young woman, miss.”\n\n“Oh, and now you're coming onto me, huh? Huhhh?” Her tone is fierce and threatening, but she's having fun playing with a bigger man like he's a small fry.\n\n“Again, absolutely not...”\n\nIt's noise to Zeke, only noise. He tries to tune it out...but it's pervasive, much like every other violation of his senses. He whines like a sad puppy – and so does the suit – elbows and knees unable to take the heat anymore. Even in defeat he's not allowed to rest, his extended limbs kept pinned place as he sadly flops to one side, Jennique tumbling off to the other direction, scuffing her up a little. Surely she takes this well.\n\n“Fucking hell – is this stupid horse trying to fucking kill me or something?! Ugh!” Ferocious, she forces herself back up onto her feet, stomping over to Zeke's still-conscious but incapacitated body, kicking him in the back of the head before grinding the underside of her heel-tip into his temple. It's excruciating...NEEEEEIIIIGHHH!!!\n\nRichard wants one thing and only one thing, and it's to get the fuck out of here with his merchandise still in-tact. He's been in shady business for a while but, Jenny's ruthlessness is both terrifying and maybe a little admirable. Mostly terrifying. Especially after she crouches down to start flailing her hands wildly at every bit of the suit that she can make contact with. Zeke's repertoire of bruises grows by the second.\n\n“I, will...find you a replacement, if you would like! I'll need to remove this one, but I can get my mitts on somethin' equally, if not more sturdy. Would that be--”\n\n“I don't WANT a replacement!” Jenny yells, her tone soaked in entitlement only matched by a spoiled toddler's temper tantrum. “It's useless! I wanna break this one first!”\n\n“You, ah, would...” Rich is finding his bag of trick is not exactly bottomless, “...you'd have to pay for it if it broke, ma'am.”\n\n“What?! It's a gift! My gift! What do you mean I need to pay to break something I own?!”\n\nHe might die for this one. “Technically...it's...only out on rental. They couldn't afford to buy it for realsies. Gonna have to...repossess it, capiche..?” Richard takes a step forward, reaching for the suit. Jenny swats his hand away.\n\n“They couldn't even BUY IT?! This braindead asshole couldn't mail it to me, couldn't get me something that worked, and now I find out they're a broke-ass bitch too?! I dunno what kinda sick joke they're trying to play on me but I'm not laughing!”\n\nJenny slams her hands back down on the suit's sides, desperate for an answer. “Gimme the name of this dickwad, 'cuz I'm gonna make their life suck!”\n\nRichard stands there. He's out of lies, charisma shot. He hangs his head, there's no way out of this now but to be honest.\n\n“It was Zeke's idea. I can explain some uhh, important shit, too.”\n\nWaiting on Jenny's response, he notices her silent. For the first time since getting to regretfully know her, she hasn't spat out whatever was on the tip of her tongue. Despite that, she's not looking away, frozen still and eyeing Richard down, while she processes through the information. Dolphins are killers too.\n\nHer chest raises as she takes a deliberate breath in, her voice raising. She's loud; loud enough to catch the attention of someone else while still staring down her prey.\n\n“Jax, honey. We have a home intruder. Get the taser, please.”\n\nJax? Taser? Zeke and Rich both break out in a cold sweat.\n\nNow it's a lost cause. He can tell it's not a bluff, with the distant scrambling of someone in the back of the house growing closer. Richard takes some quick steps back and yanks the door-handle open, equally short on words. Half-way out the door, he turns to look back at Zeke in the suit, lying flat on the floor, doubtful he's even awake. He shakes his head and murmurs 'you're on your own kid' under his breath before taking a very prompt exit, breaking into a sprint to his car.\n\nJust in time, too, with Jenny's boyfriend charging his way into the living room, barely missing the commotion.\n\n“Ah shit! Someone broke in?! Are you alright babe?” He wraps one of his muscular arms around her side while she sniffles and spews crocodile tears.\n\n“Nooo...I let him in...but he was one of Zeke's friends! He tried coming onto me! He put his hand on me!”\n\n“Hey, hey, babygirl, it's okay. He ever comes here again, I'll raise hell. And I'll beat Zeke's ass too next time I see him.” Jax cracks his knuckles, taser gripped in his palms. “Hope he's having a shit birthday, pffhah, serves that runt right for sending one of his idiot friends to threaten you.”\n\n“Th-Thanks, honey...” She wipes away her facetious sadness, snuggling into Jax's chest.\n\n“Uhh, what's that thing?” Jax tilts his head, pointing at the rubbery unicorn splayed out on the floor, giving it a few pokes. Zeke is barely cognizant inside.\n\n“He threw it inside...it's like, Zeke's 'gift' to me. It's broken and it doesn't even work.”\n\n“Looks real dumb.”\n\n“That's what I said! Ooh, maybe you could use it as a punching bag! Apparently it's not gonna do anything anyway without being like, charged.”\n\n“Charged?” He looks at the suit, then to the taser, then to the suit. “Stand back babe, I got an idea.”\n\nJax crouches down, flicking on the taser. Zeke's eyes shoot wide open, even before impact.\n\nBZZZZZTTT--!\n\nWHINNYYYYYY!! NEEEEEIIGGHHHH!!!\n\nZeke springs to life, the rubber not thick enough (or, perhaps Jax dug the taser in that hard,) to stop the electrical current from zapping right through the outside, coursing through the suit, through his body, and back through the suit. Then, the suit springs to life.\n\nThe dildos aren't just for show, and with the sudden jolts of voltage jammed into it, they begin to piston in and out, his throat violated, and then his holes get the same treatment, jutting dry into not only his asshole but his genital slit too, crushing his cocks far inside his pseudo-pussy. Every part of him is screaming out. Jennique and Jax are highly amused.\n\n“Fixed it!” Jax scoffs, hitting a 'hoorah' and a little fist pump. “Score one to Jax.”\n\n“Woah, it's like, super loud now! Cool!” Jennique giggles, wrapping her arms around her lover. “I wanna watch you ride it, Jaxy-poo!”\n\n“Pff, sure. Food's still on, I got time~”\n\nZeke is positioned forcibly back upright, throat tearing against the dirty phallus intruding in and out of it. But help isn't coming. He feels a set of larger legs on either side of him, flexed muscles finding purchase on either side of his waist. Reduced to a toy – not even that, a prop – and waiting for the inevitable. An object like him is liable to break if overused.\n\nJax drops his whole body weight over the saddle.\n\nCRACK!\n\n\nZeke comes to. He's not sure where he is, or what time it is, or what he can see. His vision is blurred over. His eyes are sore. He tries, to no avail, to move his body, only to be greeted with the same rubbery constraints he had before blacking out. Not only is he still trapped in the suit, his body is gnarled. Maybe something's broken, he can't tell, his whole body is in a uniform and unending pain.\n\nHe feels a cold breeze up against parts of his body though. There's little holes and tears in the suit, from overuse, air from the outside leaking in. He expects it to be much better than the inside, but it reeks. His head is ringing. He can still hear the sounds of horses playing in his head. Is he going insane?\n\nHe drags his neck forward to the eyeholes to get a better look. Those dildos are still lodged in every orifice, tip hugging his uvula. He sputters, drooling. A tall, chestnut-coloured thing stands over him. He blinks. He blinks again. His eyes wander from its paunch to between its legs to find a distended limb of sorts, long and throbbing. It's so warm, it radiates heat even from this far away.\n\nHe hears another whinny. And he realizes it's not him.", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Zeke taps his fingers on the edge of the hardwood desk, then traces some circles, fingertips catching in the slight blemishes and scarring in the wood. His other hand, pressed up against his cheek, grips it tightly, elbow on the corner. He half-sighs, breath lodged in his throat uncomfortably.

“I'm just...not sure what to get her. I figured, since you're more savvy with money than I am, you've probably given your fair share of gifts?”

“Gift ideas, izzit? Not my usual fare, but hey, I gotta give a repeat customer like you a little helping hand here and there! Hah.”

“You'll help, Richard?” Zeke perks up. It's exactly what he asked for, yet he can't help but be a little surprised.

“Sure I will, buddy. Mutual trust, yanno? You've scratched my back, I can spare some scratchin' back.”

To anyone else, the man across the table would reek of untrustworthiness; clad with a burgundy, pinstripe suit, his golden tooth shining amidst his other sharp incisors and contrasted against his supple, deep blue skin, voice so saccharine it'd send you into a sugar rush. But why wouldn't Zeke trust this generous man, so eager to lend him all the money he could want when he was deep in his debts, and so eager to give him odd jobs when employment was tough? Sure, the rates he had to pay back were high, the salary he earned low, but that was all part of the business! A man who was kind to him for a change was one to cherish. A friend, even.

“Great! I-I mean, thank you. I figure it should be something...personalized? But, I'm struggling to pin down what that would be for her. She already gets so much from mom, I don't know what niche I could fill.” Zeke puffs. “I've spent so much time thinking with nothing to show, and now it's down to the wire.”

“This is for that half-sis of yours, right? Jennique?”

“Yeah, it's for Jenny...I figure if maybe I get her the right gift, she'll turn over a new leaf for me. At the very least she might hate me a little less. It'd be nice to be proper siblings, and not have to watch my back all the time, with her breathing down my neck, and her boyfriend sneering at me, and–“

Rich whistles Zeke to his attention, scowling. “Hotshot, keep me on the outside of all your petty family drama, respectfully. Besides, you're already trailing down the wrong train tracks; a personalized gift is something you get a crush, or a lover, or a long time friend. For a sibling? Eugh. What, you want her to think you're leerin' at her in the shower, peekin' through her keyhole in the mornings when she's changing out of her PJ's?”

“No?!” Zeke erupts in contempt, unable to bite back enough of his sudden embarrassment. It's true he stares sometimes, but in his defense, she's blessed with beauty. Not his fault.

“Exactly. It's freak shit.” Richard leans back in his swivel chair, shoving his crossed legs atop his walnut desk, the soles on his fancy shoes far too close to Zeke's face. His presence is intimidating even past the aloof gesture, his sheer size calling to mind 'orcish' rather than 'orca'. “Whatcha want is somethin' a little more generic. Nothing too meaningful but, just enough to make them know you actually give a rat's ass.”

Zeke scooches over to the side in his wooden seat, the legs scraping against a hard floor with a resonance that makes Rich visibly wince – but the two do re-establish some eye contact off of it.

“You think so?”

“C'moooon, I know so. It's standard protocol! It's so normal to give fake, bare-bones presents that it uhh,” he pauses, doing some vague, cyclical hand motion, “it kinda wraps back around to bein' the most meaningful thing you could do, right? Like ugly sweaters for Xmas, if you get me. Anythin' come to mind offa that?”

“Mmm...a box of chocolates?”

“Little too small. And still weirdly flirty...”

“R-Right. Maybe a ticket to...a concert?”

“Like you know what fuckin' bands she listens to. Give her the wrong ticket and you're gonna wake up outside the pearly gates.”

“...Horse...riiiide..?” Zeke trails out, clearly unsure of his own suggestion. Rich seems to react at least somewhat favourably, his mouth contorting in thought.

“Broads do love their horses. I think. Don't quote me on that.” He scoffs. “Trouble is, I'unno if you can get that done on such short notice. Lemme give my contacts a search, see if I can't do a li'l finaglin'.”

“You know a lot of people, Richard!”

“Sure I do, heh.”

He whips his phone out from his suit pocket, under his lapel. Zeke gets a nice glimpse of the back of that device of his, rose gold with little encrusted gems and jewels that Zeke very easily convinces himself are real. In actuality, the front of Rich's phone is still displaying his lock screen, and he swipes and taps and scrolls at random to give the impression he's doing something worthwhile with his time. A bit of nothing passes when Rich inhales through bared teeth...not the finest of omens.

“Yeah, so, I know some guys who run a ranch a bit down south, they do rides for pretty cheap, but they just got their final slot booked out two days ago and they ain't open for more, not unless someone cancels, say, right now. Short of a miracle, this ain't gonna work.”

“Aw man...”

Zeke hangs his head, eyes sinking, ashamed of his own incompetence. One shot, and he missed by a mile. Anything that waited past the next hour of today would surely be taken as a last minute consideration. His head feels hollowed out, inhabited by stress and anxiety and his terrible decisions. Not to mention, he's wasted his own birthday too...

Expectedly, Rich would pity him, at least out of courtesy. But an idea has already sprang to mind.

“Hold up, hotshot.” He smirks, thumbing his chin. “I may just be a miracle worker.”

Retracting his nonchalance from up on the table, Richard scurries over to a side room, leaving Zeke alone, and deathly curious, though the times he's already been told not to snoop around Rich's office also float in the front of his mind, so he doesn't push it, despite the clattering and commotion in earshot behind the closed door.

“There it is!” His voice rings out, followed by Rich excitably slamming the door open, something garishly pink holstered under his shoulder. He shoves it into view on his desk, spread apart in earnest, with Zeke standing up to give it a better look from above.

His eyes trail across the object, taking note of its countenance; past the eye-strain from its hot pink, chrome-coated colouring, it appears to be a rubbery animal. The long muzzle and rounded snout with a garish grin indicate it's some sort of equine, with the hard-to-miss horn plastered on the middle of its forehead further narrowing it down to a crude depiction of a unicorn, mythical beast of yore. Its head curls back into a luscious, flowing mane, tricoloured pastel pink, baby blue and mint green. The rest of the suit is relatively unassuming, faux-fur lining parts of its coat around the withers and back. The tail is slightly frayed, loose strands of hair draped over its flank, and the hooves seem a little on the small side, but it's quite true to form, built to the scale of a small feral pony, save for the fact it's hollowed out. In fact, it does look about as big as Zeke himself, which is the first tip-off to what exactly is going on here...

“Whaddya think?” Rich grins, readjusting his askew tie.

“What...exactly is this meant to be, Richard?”

“Your ticket outta bein' a shitty sibling!” He strikes back with savage precision. “Yanno, if we're still going with the horse ride idea. Time's runnin' low so, I'd advise you did.”

Zeke and Richard share a moment of intentional silence while he tries to interpret what's being asked of him.

“I don't think this is going to hold up anyone for a horse ride...it looks a little limp.”

“No shit it does, that's 'cuz nobody's actually in it yet.”

“Wait, you–“ Zeke stammers with nervous chuckles, “You're not implying we put someone in this and have Jenny ride them, right?”

“Nah, not someone. You.”

“I'm...not getting in that? It's a great pink eyesore, first off. Second, I doubt I could even fit in there...is there even a place you could get in this? I don't see how this thing could be worn.”

“It's pretty inconspicuous, but,” Rich combs the long mane to one side, and traces his finger across the length of the back, his touch across the felt fuzz revealing an impressively well-hidden zipper, hooking it open, “riiiight here. I'm sure a small fry like you'd be easy to squeeze in with room to give, heh~”

Brushing off the thinly veiled insult, Zeke slopes forward, hands on the table to get a closer look; as he does, a strange smell tickles his nostrils, subdued enough from here to be unknowable, and seemingly seeping out from the insides. Cleaning agents, he thinks.

“W-Wouldn't me giving Jenny a horse ride be really weird?” Zeke mutters, a furtive glance to the side giving away a hint of something other than apprehension.

“Kid, you're the only one makin' it weird here. 'Sides, you're fuck outta ideas from the looks of it, and I already got a plan brewin'. You wanna back out now, be my guest, but you're gonna look like a shitty brother, and you've wasted a looooot of my time as it stands...s'pose the choice is yours.”

“...Fine. How are we doing this?”

“Leave the deets to me, but bottom line? You get in this, I bring ya there, you entertain your sis for a li'l while and then 'show up' a little bit after the fact. Perfect crime, she won't even know it's you.”

“How do you know she'll bite, exactly–?”

Practically snarling at Zeke's constant output of noise, he cuts his thought off. “Chrissakes, kid! Questions, questions, questions. Leave the talkin' to me. Soundin' like you got no confidence in me and I don't like it.”

Zeke backs down, keeping his hands close to his chest with skittery eyes.

“Money up front, by the way.”

“Huh?” Zeke interjects. Richard snaps back with a breathy cackle.

“Pfft, what, you thought I was gonna let you in on this for nothin'? I don't do free, kid! One-fifty minimum, up front, for the brainpower and time I'm usin' on you, the cost of transportation, actually letting you wear that thing...chop chop.”

“This suit is worth that much?”

The reality: Rich stole the get-up from a sleazy sex shop take three, four years ago, and what happened in that time frame from then to now is a practical mystery. Of course, he's not going to be transparent about all that when he could crack open a pretty little mistruth instead...

“More!” Rich lies brazenly through grinning teeth. “This bad boy's like, $700 second-hand, and I've been keepin' it well groomed for just the right occasion. See, this's the difference between you and me, hotshot; money talks, and I pick up the call. I know value. You should be thankin' me for the generosity I'm providing you. Now, let's get you in this thing.”

Lamenting the 'choice', Zeke fishes out his wallet from his pants for the money...he barely has enough there to pay this sudden, exorbitant cost, and he dares not think about how he'll foot rent this month. Rich greedily snatches the cash from his hand before Zeke even has time to hand it over.

“Thank you kindly~” Richard chuckles to himself, slipping it into one of his breast pockets with the finesse of a true swindler. As he does so, he paces around his desk, standing parallel to Zeke, looking down at the smaller man. It wasn't often Rich would greet his client face to face like this, and the difference in size was a factor, having to stare down at someone more than a foot and a half shorter and likely a third of his weight.

A bead of sweat rolls down the side of Zeke's face, heart stuck between his ribcage...why was a friend like him so intimidating? What was he going to do? Going to say?

“Well?” Rich breaks the silence, rubbing the back of his head in a rare moment of awkwardness. “Get naked. It's that or chafe yourself to death.”

“Wh–” Zeke's face runs alight, needing to triple-take. “Here? In front of you?! I-I'm not into guys!”

“Hey, never implied you were, hotshot. Trust me, whatever's underneath all those femmy clothes is not impressive enough for me to give a shit about, hah.”

Zeke bites down hard on his lip, hands shivering. With shaky breaths, he clears his mind of the apprehension closing in around him and begins removing his clothes – hand-me downs from his family, of course, the least feminine stuff he could dig out of his wardrobe that were still in his size. His bare, twinkish chest exposed, nipples perking, his thin and frail arms open and bare, and at the waist, his woefully unimpressive size poking slightly out of the top of his smooth entrance (doing him no favours in looking more masculine), all on full display to an acquaintance. Rich's leering eyes trailing up and down his body like camera lenses set to record.

Rich steps towards Zeke, wrapping an arm around his body and effortlessly heaving him up into the air. He can feel the clammy palm pressed flat on his naked back, rubbing off sweat that drips in lines down his backside, wedged far into Rich's orca paunch. As quick as he's lifted, he gets shoved back down again on top of the desk, wrestled into position with his head flush against the open zipperhole. Too late to back out now.

Already, with his head being forced inwards, claustrophobia sets in. His vision is dark and blurry, the suit innards rubbery and affording little transparency. Trying to find up from down makes the idea of fitting cleanly into place difficult without the baleful guiding hand of his so-called 'friend' coaxing him further inside. As big as the suit may be for someone of his stature, it's a painful squeeze, with Rich leading him by the shoulders forward until his neck breaches past the suit's withers. The smell from before becomes much more overpowering, and it only now hits Zeke what that smell is: sex. Stale, unwashed sex, the noisome scent of dried spunk and spent lust circulating around limited airflow, coagulating in its own nastiness, enough to make him gag. He should've had the foresight to assume this was its true use, but his mind was gripped by charm and by guilt, critical thought cast aside the moment he and his comrade got to conversation.

It's only now that he – fruitlessly – attempts yanking his body backwards, but Rich's arm has him pinned down with far too much force, and the restrictive equine shoulders close in on him, the anatomies incongruent in a way that keeps him pinned in place. His body is bent at a hurtful angle as Rich manhandles him like one would with a pillow into its case, indifferent to his body's needs for such frivolities as free motion and a straight spine. Zeke's head sets into place, finally, though the thin eyeholes at the front provide only spotty vision to the outside, barely able to make out the paintings on Rich's wall...if that is his wall. Though, there is something prodding at his mouth, silicone but otherwise indiscernible, taking up just enough space to never let him settle fully. He groans, clearing his throat to let Richard know it's gone far enough–

Neeeeigh! From the unmoving mouth erupts a boisterous, convincing neigh, in lieu of throaty grunts. And again, when he speaks, neeeeigh! Only the slightest crackles of a voice-box are ambiently audible, a break in the facade, but only if one knew to listen for them...

“Damn, kid, class act, but save it for the girl!” Rich scoffs, caught unaware of the internal mechanisms inside the suit. Panic begins to set in, Zeke wriggling in place with not much room to spare, his cries for help muffled inches away from being heard.

His arms are helped into place next, directed into the restrictive tubes of the unicorn suit's forelegs; the further his limbs go, the tighter it is, suggesting an impassable entrance by the time his wrists eke past the knee-height. Not to be deterred at this point, Richard strong-arms his body past the last few inches it needs to nestle into their nooks, stretching his feeble muscles close to their upper limit, punctuated with a detesting whinny! His hands, occupying the space of the hooves, stay balled up, millimetres of wriggle room a luxury. The hooves themselves are wooden inside and outside, perhaps to give the motion of walking a signature 'clop', but it sorely lacks in ergonomics, Zeke's wrists growing sore under the pressure in a matter of seconds.

Given no warning, Zeke feels his ass stung by the firm force of a large palm, gripping tight against his cushy cheek and pushing against him. If Richard was taking advantage of his immobility to cop a feel, he would have no way of knowing over if he was simply assisting him in. The extra impetus slides his underbelly into place, though it's a dirty fit, his gut held higher than normal to account for the longer leg length of the suit leading up to its stomach. His raspy breaths exude as sputtery whickers as he has to give great thought into the act of taking rancid, cum-scented air into his lungs.

Everything below the waist is last to be dealt with, Richard's greasy hands furthering their reach on his lower body, grabbing hold by his calves in an effort to wrench him into place. His motions show little empathy as he twists Zeke's body at askew angles to squeeze the last of him inside. Zeke's scaly skin catches momentarily in the open zipper, eliciting a yelp of pain from Zeke's throat, and a squeal from the suit's.

One of the very few places – if the only one – that fits his body in a way that isn't grating is around the flank and buttocks, the curvature of the suit following the same lines as his own in a majority of places. That's not to say it's soothing, however, with two more silicone protrusions on the inside, slicked with grease and grossly sticky, one grazing against his cheeks, the other teasing the bottom of his slit. The entire inside of the crotch is caked with a mix of flaky and gooey stains alike. Zeke's throat winches shut, begging his mind not to linger on the sensation, with a good idea of what it actually is down there on feel and smell alone.

The final maneuver is with his legs, made to curve at angles not easily supported by his musculature. A very important difference lies in the equine hind-legs of the suit, bending backwards at the hock instead of inwards. Zeke's knee-joints strain trying to keep steady to fit the ungiligrade anatomy, keeping his legs discomfortingly flat and straight, hamstrings made to carry the brunt of the tension. His feet squeeze into the space of the hind hooves, even more restrictive than his hands. Much like an equine, his heels press against the back of the suit's pasterns, standing with the pressure on his toes. No limb will feel good to walk on, and he silently hopes that Rich'll carry him in rather than make him canter behind.

The sound of the zipper closing shut around his trembling back signals that he's sealed up; in suit, and in fate.

Constrained, Zeke twitches, feeling Richard's hand pat harshly against his back. “Good fit?” He questions.

Whinny!

“Uh, I'll take that as a yes?” Rich scratches at the side of his face. “I got a few last li'l touches to sell this, so, just keep your trap shut until we get there, and follow my lead when we are.”

Noticing Zeke's apparent lack of mobility, he crouches down out of view, fishing through Zeke's discarded clothes still piled haphazardly on the floor to pick out his wallet. There's only a few bucks there, coupled with some loose change, and Rich's conscience (for once) kicks in as he decides whether to rob his struggling client in broad daylight...and then gives his conscience the boot as he decides to pocket every last cent. Cha-ching!

Richard moseys back into his storeroom in the back, digging out a few loose items to complete the look: not part of the outfit to begin with, but to help make this little horsie a pinch more convincing. To help mask the zipper, he brings a saddle atop Zeke's back, concealing the already thin line under a few inches of chapped leather. Dragging the saddle's girth underneath the midriff, he fastens it into one of the notches a little too securely, the strap curving harshly inwards, pushing on Zeke's stomach, forcing even more air out of his lungs. That's not all the abuse his respiratory tract gets though, with Rich soon after tying not one, but two bridles around his face for maximum security – and to compensate for his minimal experience – with both being a couple sizes too small. He gags from the pressure on his neck, sputtering from his voice-box. His forehead is peeled back, head locked into place, with whatever's on the inside beginning to press up against his lips. He desperately cranes himself back, trying to keep it from going inside; he's tasted enough foulness already without his tongue involved.

Zeke feels the flooring drop from under him as Rich coils his arm under and around the suit wholesale, hoisting him up with a powerful grip.

“Alright hotshot, we're movin' out. Try not to get in my way too much, capiche?”

Past his veiled eyes, the environment is a blur, but Zeke can pick out enough to tell he's outside now...and, is he going back in? No, no, that's Rich's ride he's getting slotted into. Perhaps if he wasn't practically blindfolded, he could comment on how overblown on vanity the interior was...

“Oh, huh, lemme just...”

Richard is able to easily adjust Zeke in his suit, rotate him and push him in and out, but despite that, can't puzzle out a way to fit him into the passenger side cleanly without some overlap onto the driver's seat. He scritches at the back of his neck, only a little sorry for what he has to do next.

“Well, hah. You ain't fittin' in the front, so I guess you're going in the back with all the other important shit. Don't worry, I'll try and drive safe, won't run any reds~”

Unable to parse Rich's words in time, the clicking open of his car's trunk grabs his attention, tight. His back impacts against metal, and unsorted junk pokes into his suit harshly enough for him to feel it on his skin. Not a moment later, he's submerged into darkness.

His yell is drowned under the sound of a car engine whirring to life, pistons pumping vigorously.

This is gonna be a rough ride.


Zeke squints, eyes rejecting the sudden, harsh light blazing in his retinae. Unbeknownst to him, a stray speedbump – or was it a pothole? – had taken him clean out a few minutes into the drive. His body aches, peppered in little bruises and abrasions, assuming the worst in being bounced around like a pinball while he was unconscious.

Rank air fills his nostrils...he finds it strange that he's breathing nasally and not through his mouth. The back of his throat tickles, a rubbery dildo prodding into his uvula, close to making him choke. Its taste is...revolting, so many different things at once he can barely pick out what it is. There's not the room inside the suit to pull his neck back either, as much as he wants to dislodge it.

Click click! His bearings are forced onto him prematurely, with a thick hand beckoning his attention with loud, urgent clicks.

“Rise and shine, kid!” Richard grins, relieved to see the unicorn suit survived the journey in one piece. “We're goin' in soon. Get your game face on.”

The irony is not lost on him; no game face, only a perma-affixed grin.

Hauled out, his pseudo-hooves press against the pavement with a clack. His wrists and tips of his feet grinding against the wooden bottoms, his face grimacing. Now, he has to actually walk like this, with Rich clasping one hand around his reigns. Every individual stroke forward presses back up into his weary limbs. As he shambles onwards, the phalluses prodding close to both of his unoccupied holes try and slip into place, though he has enough space to resist their entry, and enough strength in him to clench hard enough.

With Zeke trailing right behind, Rich places his finger on the buzzer. Ding dong!

An anxious minute passes by, and the door swings open. Expectedly, on the other side, Jennique stands, squinting face plastered with ardent protest from the moment she could make herself seen. Her hand grips her hip. She's quite glammed up for her birthday, in a new jacket, new pants, and a birthday tiara atop her head with golden girl privilege written all over it.

“No fucking solicitors.” She mumbles. Jenny gets very close to slamming the door on Richard, but he slides his shoe into the door frame, barring her from weaselling out of the interaction.

“Ah bah bah!” Richard verbally interlopes, shaking his finger disapprovingly, working his magical charm. “Not a solicitor, ma'am, so if you'd hear me out...”

“Ugh. It's my fucking birthday. What the hell do you want?! If you take another step inside you're gonna get your shit kicked in, asshole.”

“That's certainly some feisty language, missus.” Rich leans back, palms up in front of himself, not scared but, visibly disconcerted. “Your birthday it is! That's precisely why I'm here, ma'am: here to chaperone a gift your way, as luck may have it.”

“What does that even mean?” Jennique tuts, “'Chaperone a gift'...are you too stupid to, I dunno, mail me it instead?”

“There was a last minute change of plans, and they couldn't deliver it in person. For the record, it's not my gift.” Richard pauses, needing to word this next bit...carefully. “Let's say, you have a secret admirer. In the friend sense! I don't imagine they would, yanno, wanna tread on any toes romantic-wise, but, someone lookin' to spoil you a bit. You're the type for lavish gifts, right?~”

The appeal to ego seems to resonate with her; Jenny's posture relaxes a bit, leaning further curious than annoyed.

“Yeah, you aren't wrong with that at least. So like, what do you even have? Hand it over.”

Rich swoops to the side, his figure before conveniently concealing the item behind him. Jenny creaks the door open a little more to get a better look. Bright pink, standing out significantly against the outside backdrop...an unassuming, flashy, unicorn.

She snickers. “Pff...what is that? Looks gaudy as hell.”

“Looks can be a little deceiving. This bad girl is a top-of-the-line unicorn animatronic! Fresh offa the presses too, firsthand. Market price of like, $1,500, give or take. Gotta say, crazy what them tech companies can make nowadays, hah!”

Not at all the price that Zeke heard first...and he can't be sure if Rich was lying to him or if he's sprinkling in even more extreme embellishments to help sell his fraudulent story. Past that though, his nervousness joins the rubbery member in catching in his throat. Jenny's unaware it's him in there, but her gaze on him makes him sweat even harder under the blazing sun. He is caked in his own anxiety.

“So like, what do I do with it?”

“What do you usually do with a horse, ma'am?” Rich sweetly replies, a little hint of condescension in his voice.

“Uhh...ride it? Pet it? If I wanted to play with horses I'd go to like, a barn or a farm or some sort of like, horse-keeping place.”

“That is quite true, miss! But, the...unique visual design of this animatronic notwithstanding, it's said that the tactile experience of this piece-o'work is second to none. It really is like havin' a small pony in the comfort of your own home, without the hassle of feeding it, nurturing its behaviour, yadda yadda, all the other nasty and unwanted parts of ushering an equine friend that I'm sure a gal like you doesn't feel like keepin' track of.” He chuckles, blurting out a chaser, “And it's free! Courtesy of your mysterious benefactor and all. You wouldn't turn down free, would ya?”

Jennique tuts, arms crossed. “Guess I wouldn't. Does it like, neigh and stuff?”

“Wouldn't be realistic without the capability to neigh, right?” With that, Richard holsters the reigns atop Zeke for just a moment, keeping it open to give the suit a firm flank spank. The sudden motion jolts in about an inch of a member into his puckered hole, eliciting a yelp, inevitably muffled by the suit's internals and emitting from the face as a new sound entirely: Neiiiiigh!

“Eh, fuck it, I'm sold. Give it here!”

Whiningly impatient, Jenny grabs hold of the loose leash and yanks it, harsh, pulling Zeke in by the neck, stumbling but keeping his footing. His extremities are sore, the bottoms of his wrists aching uncomfortably, but he has to keep up the façade if he wants to impress his sister...at least that's what he keeps telling himself in his head. Richard saunters in after the two of them, shutting the door politely.

“Ugh, did I say you were allowed in?! Bounce, dummy.”

“Well ya didn't, however, I'd like to make sure everythin's in workin' order. If it's defective or ends up malfunctioning, you'd want someone who can uhh, set stuff right for you.”

“So like...” Jenny puts a finger to her cheek, while leaning her weight on top of a shivery Zeke. “...are you like, a chaperone guy, or a businessman, or a member of a company or what? You know a lot about this trashy thing.”

Surprisingly, she cuts right through a lot of Richard's lies. He flaps his hands in the air in a shrug, dropping his professionalism a couple notches. “Well, I didn't wanna make it look like shit, right? I ain't no salesperson really, just a guy helpin' a client. I looked at the specs and stuff on his behalf.”

“M'kay.” Shrugging it off, Jenny slides her butt up onto the saddle, more and more of her body weight pressing down onto Zeke, limbs trembling as he struggles to keep up with the extra downforce. His soft whimpers don't even register, trying to keep himself quiet out of fear. The voice-box sure is a blessing in disguise, shielding him from getting found out when his unsteady noises grow too loud.

Jenny mounts him fully, legs to either side, control at her fingertips. She pulls the reigns hard again, forcing the head and shoulders to snap up into place, the bridle throat-latches razing Zeke's neck. His airways crackle at the pace of his breaths, his upright forelegs at risk of giving way, so he rears back on his actual legs to counterbalance.

“S'got springlocks and a metal frame and all that, it's real impact resilient. Still, that ain't to say you should go outta your way to fuck it up, treat it like you would an actual stallion, right?”

“So it can take a beating?” Jennique, perhaps choosing to ignore the second half of Rich's statement, sidles up her heel and brings it back down against the side of the suit, impacting against Zeke's ribs. He recoils, toppling into a leftward stumble. One of his wrists press a little too hard into the wood and something clicks. Harsh, sudden, and painful.

NEEEeeeigh--! His forearm feels like it lit on fire. Of course, coupled with a loud neigh. It's hard to stand, hard to breathe, mind addled with overstimulation and mustiness and aches all piling atop each other. His frail murmurs exert as equine scoffs.

“Well, y'know, y'could do that instead, cowgal. I uhh, don't judge!”

“Hey, this thing's like, soooo expressive! Maybe I've changed my mind on it.”

“You could lead it around, pet it some maybe? I don't think a lotta equestrian folks would let kickin' your mount in the ribs slide.” Rich attempts to try and redirect Jenny to something a little less destructive; the suit is whatever, but he'd hate to have one of his more obedient clients out of commission.

“Ugghhhhh, I wouldn't do this to a real horse! Do you think I'm an abusive asshole or something, huh?!” Jenny punctuates her 'rhetorical' with a smack to the back of the suit's head. Zeke's vision blurs over a little, ears ringing. The dildo lodged in his mouth grazes his uvula. Whinnyyyyy...

“Hah, 'course not!” With...minimal conviction.

“I'm like, nice to the people I hang out with and everything. Well, if they deserve me being nice to them.” Jenny scoffs to herself. “People like my stupid ass half-brother – eww, by the way! I do not like thinking about the fact we share family – they kinda deserve what comes to them. He's like, a total pushover and everything...”

Zeke's heart sinks so low it might as well burrow itself out the suit and ten feet under the floorboards. Completely and utterly unrequited, and right in the middle of this horribly selfless display.

“He's uhh – well, I didn't know you had a half-brother! Seems...” Rich is lost for words.

“Oh don't even start on him!” She grips the reigns hard, yanking his head to the side. “It's his birthday today too! The little rat probably ran off to his hoe of a girlfriend instead of spending the day with me...didn't give me a gift, didn't even say hi, what a fucking jerk.”

Inhaling through his teeth, and a hand behind his head, Richard replies in meek agreement, “He must be a real uhh...piece of shit, yeah? What'd he do to warrant that sorta treatment?” Somehow Zeke hadn't informed him the two of them shared a birthday...doubtful it would've stopped him from doing as he's done; the lack of conviction in following Jenny's thoughts is mostly because Zeke's in earshot.

“Don't!” Jenny tuts, grabbing the suit by the scruff of its mane, balling up her fist. “Even! I'd be here like, allllll day if I tried. I like, wanna enjoy my birthday?”

All the pushing and pulling is taking a toll on Zeke, tears welling in his eyes. It's too much. Sweat leaking from every little scale, nose stuffy, body weak. He curses himself for getting in this situation with no out in sight, then again for being too dumb to think of anything better.

He grows shaky, noticeably so, his arms and legs starting to fault. Rich and Jenny catch on right away.

“What's--”

“Th-The uhh, the servos, they--”

The two of them cut each other off, Jenny glaring at him.

“It might not have a lotta battery in it, so the servos are havin' trouble keepin' up with the sudden weight on it--”

“Did you just call me fat?”

“Absolutely not, ma'am--!” Rich stammers. “Those mooks usin' it last musta not put it on charge is all. You are a very fine, slim, well-defined young woman, miss.”

“Oh, and now you're coming onto me, huh? Huhhh?” Her tone is fierce and threatening, but she's having fun playing with a bigger man like he's a small fry.

“Again, absolutely not...”

It's noise to Zeke, only noise. He tries to tune it out...but it's pervasive, much like every other violation of his senses. He whines like a sad puppy – and so does the suit – elbows and knees unable to take the heat anymore. Even in defeat he's not allowed to rest, his extended limbs kept pinned place as he sadly flops to one side, Jennique tumbling off to the other direction, scuffing her up a little. Surely she takes this well.

“Fucking hell – is this stupid horse trying to fucking kill me or something?! Ugh!” Ferocious, she forces herself back up onto her feet, stomping over to Zeke's still-conscious but incapacitated body, kicking him in the back of the head before grinding the underside of her heel-tip into his temple. It's excruciating...NEEEEEIIIIGHHH!!!

Richard wants one thing and only one thing, and it's to get the fuck out of here with his merchandise still in-tact. He's been in shady business for a while but, Jenny's ruthlessness is both terrifying and maybe a little admirable. Mostly terrifying. Especially after she crouches down to start flailing her hands wildly at every bit of the suit that she can make contact with. Zeke's repertoire of bruises grows by the second.

“I, will...find you a replacement, if you would like! I'll need to remove this one, but I can get my mitts on somethin' equally, if not more sturdy. Would that be--”

“I don't WANT a replacement!” Jenny yells, her tone soaked in entitlement only matched by a spoiled toddler's temper tantrum. “It's useless! I wanna break this one first!”

“You, ah, would...” Rich is finding his bag of trick is not exactly bottomless, “...you'd have to pay for it if it broke, ma'am.”

“What?! It's a gift! My gift! What do you mean I need to pay to break something I own?!”

He might die for this one. “Technically...it's...only out on rental. They couldn't afford to buy it for realsies. Gonna have to...repossess it, capiche..?” Richard takes a step forward, reaching for the suit. Jenny swats his hand away.

“They couldn't even BUY IT?! This braindead asshole couldn't mail it to me, couldn't get me something that worked, and now I find out they're a broke-ass bitch too?! I dunno what kinda sick joke they're trying to play on me but I'm not laughing!”

Jenny slams her hands back down on the suit's sides, desperate for an answer. “Gimme the name of this dickwad, 'cuz I'm gonna make their life suck!”

Richard stands there. He's out of lies, charisma shot. He hangs his head, there's no way out of this now but to be honest.

“It was Zeke's idea. I can explain some uhh, important shit, too.”

Waiting on Jenny's response, he notices her silent. For the first time since getting to regretfully know her, she hasn't spat out whatever was on the tip of her tongue. Despite that, she's not looking away, frozen still and eyeing Richard down, while she processes through the information. Dolphins are killers too.

Her chest raises as she takes a deliberate breath in, her voice raising. She's loud; loud enough to catch the attention of someone else while still staring down her prey.

“Jax, honey. We have a home intruder. Get the taser, please.”

Jax? Taser? Zeke and Rich both break out in a cold sweat.

Now it's a lost cause. He can tell it's not a bluff, with the distant scrambling of someone in the back of the house growing closer. Richard takes some quick steps back and yanks the door-handle open, equally short on words. Half-way out the door, he turns to look back at Zeke in the suit, lying flat on the floor, doubtful he's even awake. He shakes his head and murmurs 'you're on your own kid' under his breath before taking a very prompt exit, breaking into a sprint to his car.

Just in time, too, with Jenny's boyfriend charging his way into the living room, barely missing the commotion.

“Ah shit! Someone broke in?! Are you alright babe?” He wraps one of his muscular arms around her side while she sniffles and spews crocodile tears.

“Nooo...I let him in...but he was one of Zeke's friends! He tried coming onto me! He put his hand on me!”

“Hey, hey, babygirl, it's okay. He ever comes here again, I'll raise hell. And I'll beat Zeke's ass too next time I see him.” Jax cracks his knuckles, taser gripped in his palms. “Hope he's having a shit birthday, pffhah, serves that runt right for sending one of his idiot friends to threaten you.”

“Th-Thanks, honey...” She wipes away her facetious sadness, snuggling into Jax's chest.

“Uhh, what's that thing?” Jax tilts his head, pointing at the rubbery unicorn splayed out on the floor, giving it a few pokes. Zeke is barely cognizant inside.

“He threw it inside...it's like, Zeke's 'gift' to me. It's broken and it doesn't even work.”

“Looks real dumb.”

“That's what I said! Ooh, maybe you could use it as a punching bag! Apparently it's not gonna do anything anyway without being like, charged.”

“Charged?” He looks at the suit, then to the taser, then to the suit. “Stand back babe, I got an idea.”

Jax crouches down, flicking on the taser. Zeke's eyes shoot wide open, even before impact.

BZZZZZTTT--!

WHINNYYYYYY!! NEEEEEIIGGHHHH!!!

Zeke springs to life, the rubber not thick enough (or, perhaps Jax dug the taser in that hard,) to stop the electrical current from zapping right through the outside, coursing through the suit, through his body, and back through the suit. Then, the suit springs to life.

The dildos aren't just for show, and with the sudden jolts of voltage jammed into it, they begin to piston in and out, his throat violated, and then his holes get the same treatment, jutting dry into not only his asshole but his genital slit too, crushing his cocks far inside his pseudo-pussy. Every part of him is screaming out. Jennique and Jax are highly amused.

“Fixed it!” Jax scoffs, hitting a 'hoorah' and a little fist pump. “Score one to Jax.”

“Woah, it's like, super loud now! Cool!” Jennique giggles, wrapping her arms around her lover. “I wanna watch you ride it, Jaxy-poo!”

“Pff, sure. Food's still on, I got time~”

Zeke is positioned forcibly back upright, throat tearing against the dirty phallus intruding in and out of it. But help isn't coming. He feels a set of larger legs on either side of him, flexed muscles finding purchase on either side of his waist. Reduced to a toy – not even that, a prop – and waiting for the inevitable. An object like him is liable to break if overused.

Jax drops his whole body weight over the saddle.

CRACK!


Zeke comes to. He's not sure where he is, or what time it is, or what he can see. His vision is blurred over. His eyes are sore. He tries, to no avail, to move his body, only to be greeted with the same rubbery constraints he had before blacking out. Not only is he still trapped in the suit, his body is gnarled. Maybe something's broken, he can't tell, his whole body is in a uniform and unending pain.

He feels a cold breeze up against parts of his body though. There's little holes and tears in the suit, from overuse, air from the outside leaking in. He expects it to be much better than the inside, but it reeks. His head is ringing. He can still hear the sounds of horses playing in his head. Is he going insane?

He drags his neck forward to the eyeholes to get a better look. Those dildos are still lodged in every orifice, tip hugging his uvula. He sputters, drooling. A tall, chestnut-coloured thing stands over him. He blinks. He blinks again. His eyes wander from its paunch to between its legs to find a distended limb of sorts, long and throbbing. It's so warm, it radiates heat even from this far away.

He hears another whinny. And he realizes it's not him.", "pools_count": 0, "title": "Happy Birthday, Jennique! (comm)", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "application/msword", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" }, { "content_tag_id": "5", "name": "Strong Violence", "description": "Strong violence, blood, serious injury or death", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "t", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "0", "views": "4" }