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","count":"7"}],"description":"A little bit of fanart I did for one of Blackstone's stories. This one: https://www.sofurry.com/view/931917\n\nHe also was so kind to write a short story for this picture. Again thanks a lot for this one! :)\n\nThe stable hand was humming to himself as he brushed Clopper's fur when he noticed the bit-fitted lion looking over his shoulder, nervously eyeing the digital countdown which had been mounted on the stall wall. It read \"0000023\" underneath the helpful label stating \"DAYS LEFT\".\n\nTom wasn't sure why there were so many zeros preceding the count of twenty three but the bull figured there was likely a psychological reason for it. Perhaps to make the day count seem even fewer than it already was. And the days were running short indeed.\n\nHaving worked at this particular ranch for coming up on fifteen years now, the bull was used to pony slaves getting anxious as their gelding day approached. At one point Tom might have felt pity or empathy for the well hung lion but the stable hand had spent too many years training and looking after the ranch owner's \"ponies\" to let this boy tug at his heart strings. Though if there was any boy who might convince the middle aged bull to indulge in some illicit sympathy, it was Clopper. Such a cute young thing. Such gorgeous blue eyes.\n\nBut no. Best stick with his unique brand of token comforting that had become his go-to for any frustrated or stressed out slave.\n\nPlacing a warm hand on Clopper's drug-enhanced sack, Tom ran his fingers across the taut, veined skin. In a deep, no-nonsense voice the ranch hand said, \"There's no point worrying over things you can't do anything about, boy. Besides, being a gelding won't be so bad. There will still be plenty of work to do around the ranch to keep you busy. Plus, it's not like you'll be going without sex. Many of the ranch hands here actually prefer fucking geldings. And there will be the new stallion moving in soon, just two stalls down. I imagine he'll be breeding you at least once a week to start out with. More when his balls fill out some. We'll be bringing him by all the other geldings' stalls too, just like we did for you when you first arrived.\"\n\nClopper snorted through his bit, the muted lion stomping one booted hoof against the strewn hay. He didn't appear comforted but Tom wasn't surprised. It couldn't be easy to be only nineteen and knowing your cumming days were coming to an end.\n\nLooking over his shoulder to make sure he was alone the bull thought, 'Fuck it. Why not,' and took the lion's member in hand.\n\nClopper stiffened and looked down as much as his posture collar would allow. No one had laid a hand on his cock since before he'd been snatched off that lonely hiking trail all those years ago. But he knew it wasn't by accident when the bull closed his grip around the pony slave's rapidly erecting endowment and took to stroking it with purpose. The armless teenager grunted wordlessly into his bit, the bull's other hand continuing to play with his low hanging balls.\n\n\"Aye, I know, it's against the rules. Ponies breed or get bred, owner's orders. But you won't tattle on me if we make an exception just this once. Right, Clopper?\"\nThe lion knew better than to shake his head. All non pony-like mannerism had long been punished out of him. Instead he bucked his head up, making his brown mane whip through the air to signal his understanding. And his eagerness.\n\nPumping the slave's dick with the same focus and intent he brought to bear for all his ranch chores the bull instructed, \"Let's not drag this out, pony. Neither of us would enjoy getting caught. Sooner you seed the hay, the sooner we can get you strapped in to haul dirt for the miss' new garden.\"\n\nThe slave didn't need to be told twice. It'd been almost a week since they'd last let him \"cover\" a gelding. And he'd been so needy then that the lion had fucked the mute, armless bunny nearly across the stall with his savage thrusting. The ranch hands present had all enjoyed a good laugh at that, the men uncaring that the slave's drug injected sack began to throb with persistent aches after a mere two days without release. And even with his castration so close at hand the cruel ranch owner insisted on continuing the weekly injections that had made Clopper spend so much of his time obsessed with fucking. With getting off. The lion's mind never strayed far from the ceaseless needs of what stretched down between his thighs. The blue tinged injections had made sure of that.\n\nHis tail whipping behind him, Clopper's eyes rolled upward and out of sight as the bull mechanically stroked his fattened foot long shaft. He didn't even notice the horned ranch hand position himself so that his wide open maw was ready to receive his creamy discharge.\n\nThe slave's balls tried to pull upward in their stretched thin sack but as always they were prevented by the thick band of metal forcing the orbs to remain low. This was cause for some discomfort but the pain was lost in the tsunami of white-hot pleasure that blasted all conscious thought from Clopper's mind.\n\nThe bull checked his watch even as the slave's seed filled his mouth, making him to pause to swallow down the oddly thick cum. After all, today was just another busy day on the ranch and Clopper was just another piece of property. So much to do before the boys were harnessed in their stalls for the night, held vertical and on their hoofs as they slept through until the new morning.\n\nBehind Clopper the digital display flashed blank before updating to read, \"0000022\".","description_bbcode_parsed":"A little bit of fanart I did for one of Blackstone's stories. This one: https://www.sofurry.com/view/931917

He also was so kind to write a short story for this picture. Again thanks a lot for this one! :)

The stable hand was humming to himself as he brushed Clopper's fur when he noticed the bit-fitted lion looking over his shoulder, nervously eyeing the digital countdown which had been mounted on the stall wall. It read "0000023" underneath the helpful label stating "DAYS LEFT".

Tom wasn't sure why there were so many zeros preceding the count of twenty three but the bull figured there was likely a psychological reason for it. Perhaps to make the day count seem even fewer than it already was. And the days were running short indeed.

Having worked at this particular ranch for coming up on fifteen years now, the bull was used to pony slaves getting anxious as their gelding day approached. At one point Tom might have felt pity or empathy for the well hung lion but the stable hand had spent too many years training and looking after the ranch owner's "ponies" to let this boy tug at his heart strings. Though if there was any boy who might convince the middle aged bull to indulge in some illicit sympathy, it was Clopper. Such a cute young thing. Such gorgeous blue eyes.

But no. Best stick with his unique brand of token comforting that had become his go-to for any frustrated or stressed out slave.

Placing a warm hand on Clopper's drug-enhanced sack, Tom ran his fingers across the taut, veined skin. In a deep, no-nonsense voice the ranch hand said, "There's no point worrying over things you can't do anything about, boy. Besides, being a gelding won't be so bad. There will still be plenty of work to do around the ranch to keep you busy. Plus, it's not like you'll be going without sex. Many of the ranch hands here actually prefer fucking geldings. And there will be the new stallion moving in soon, just two stalls down. I imagine he'll be breeding you at least once a week to start out with. More when his balls fill out some. We'll be bringing him by all the other geldings' stalls too, just like we did for you when you first arrived."

Clopper snorted through his bit, the muted lion stomping one booted hoof against the strewn hay. He didn't appear comforted but Tom wasn't surprised. It couldn't be easy to be only nineteen and knowing your cumming days were coming to an end.

Looking over his shoulder to make sure he was alone the bull thought, 'Fuck it. Why not,' and took the lion's member in hand.

Clopper stiffened and looked down as much as his posture collar would allow. No one had laid a hand on his cock since before he'd been snatched off that lonely hiking trail all those years ago. But he knew it wasn't by accident when the bull closed his grip around the pony slave's rapidly erecting endowment and took to stroking it with purpose. The armless teenager grunted wordlessly into his bit, the bull's other hand continuing to play with his low hanging balls.

"Aye, I know, it's against the rules. Ponies breed or get bred, owner's orders. But you won't tattle on me if we make an exception just this once. Right, Clopper?"
The lion knew better than to shake his head. All non pony-like mannerism had long been punished out of him. Instead he bucked his head up, making his brown mane whip through the air to signal his understanding. And his eagerness.

Pumping the slave's dick with the same focus and intent he brought to bear for all his ranch chores the bull instructed, "Let's not drag this out, pony. Neither of us would enjoy getting caught. Sooner you seed the hay, the sooner we can get you strapped in to haul dirt for the miss' new garden."

The slave didn't need to be told twice. It'd been almost a week since they'd last let him "cover" a gelding. And he'd been so needy then that the lion had fucked the mute, armless bunny nearly across the stall with his savage thrusting. The ranch hands present had all enjoyed a good laugh at that, the men uncaring that the slave's drug injected sack began to throb with persistent aches after a mere two days without release. And even with his castration so close at hand the cruel ranch owner insisted on continuing the weekly injections that had made Clopper spend so much of his time obsessed with fucking. With getting off. The lion's mind never strayed far from the ceaseless needs of what stretched down between his thighs. The blue tinged injections had made sure of that.

His tail whipping behind him, Clopper's eyes rolled upward and out of sight as the bull mechanically stroked his fattened foot long shaft. He didn't even notice the horned ranch hand position himself so that his wide open maw was ready to receive his creamy discharge.

The slave's balls tried to pull upward in their stretched thin sack but as always they were prevented by the thick band of metal forcing the orbs to remain low. This was cause for some discomfort but the pain was lost in the tsunami of white-hot pleasure that blasted all conscious thought from Clopper's mind.

The bull checked his watch even as the slave's seed filled his mouth, making him to pause to swallow down the oddly thick cum. After all, today was just another busy day on the ranch and Clopper was just another piece of property. So much to do before the boys were harnessed in their stalls for the night, held vertical and on their hoofs as they slept through until the new morning.

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