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Part 3 will have two more pics, coming in the next 24 hours [/b][/center]\n\n\nHere's part 2: [smallthumb]3152192,1[/smallthumb]\n\nThis time, the AI generation will be from me, with some heavy amount of help from [iconname]KodiCoyoteOfficial[/iconname] who patiently taught me how to start and helped me with the base for the first picture.\n\nThese would be my first attempts, so they won't be anywhere near the quality from either Chase or AIFM. Pics coming very soon, so you guys can judge if I should keep going <3\n\nBut it's not all bad news: I'm also commissioning a real drawing from one of my favorite artists (an actual furry art superstar, but I wont tell who, it's a surprise!)", "description_bbcode_parsed": "
First picture is out in part 2! Part 3 will have two more pics, coming in the next 24 hours



Here's part 2:
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\r\n\t\t\t\tTrading the blame - Part 2 [Page 1] by threeracoons
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This time, the AI generation will be from me, with some heavy amount of help from \r\n\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
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\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tKodiCoyoteOfficial\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t		\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tKodiCoyoteOfficial\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
who patiently taught me how to start and helped me with the base for the first picture.

These would be my first attempts, so they won't be anywhere near the quality from either Chase or AIFM. Pics coming very soon, so you guys can judge if I should keep going <3

But it's not all bad news: I'm also commissioning a real drawing from one of my favorite artists (an actual furry art superstar, but I wont tell who, it's a surprise!)", "writing": "[i]Characters: \nJacob Miller, 35, male golden retriever. Father of Aurora, 11.\nFrancis Parish, 37, male mustang. Father of Clementine, 10.[/i]\n\n[u][b]Part 1: Planning[/b][/u]\n\nWhen you met Francis today, he had seemed like an utterly un-interesting, boorish horse at first. Both of you were stuck in the same hotel the whole weekend for a useless IT management conference your boss had volunteered you to go to in his stead. Frankly, you could not even remember a single useful thing any of the presenters had said during the workshops. These things were all the same anyways, no one expected you to come back from them a changed man.\n\nFrancis was not a presenter, and he did not work at your company, but he had been assigned a seat next to you, seemingly taking notes during the series of inane speeches about management workflow. He was the only one in the room taking notes, and you remember at the time you had thought only a special kind of corporate drone would write down anything said during these useless presentations.\n\nBut now that you two are the only ones left in the hotel bar, after the conference dinner party has petered out, to be polite you strike a conversation with him, asking if any of the notes he took were useful. Smiling mischievously, he shows you his notepad, filled with crude drawings of the presenters with their worst quotes above them. \n\nYou point at one his drawings: an overweight hen with the 'Karen' haircut spouting \"Make your library of competence expand throughout your assets\".\n\n\"I remember that one. How do they come up with this stuff, do you think they just input a bunch of business sounding words in a random number generator and then just pick whatever sounds best?\"\n\n\"Don't ask me. I don't care about any of it. I only draw these because it makes my kid laugh when I come home.\" The horse replies, pen in hand, adding a flowery dialog bubble around the quote.\n\n\"Oh, lucky guy, my own kid doesn't want to hear anything about her old man's work, and she gets really pissed when I leave her a whole weekend with a baby-sitter.\" You sigh.\n\nSince you are both stuck in this hotel one night longer, you have nothing better to do than to get drunk, and since you found you both have a lot in common, with no barman to send you home, you have enough rounds with Francis that the inebriated conversation ends up a little bit personal, commiserating about your lack of love lives, about your terrible wives that left you both single fathers. And finally, about your two respective daughters:\n\n\"Here's mine. D'you have a picture of yours, Jacob?\" says the horse in a slightly slurred voice. Between his fingers is a photograph of a young, happy filly, dressed in a school uniform. She's beaming with pride as some trophy of some sort is handed to her. Athletics maybe?\n\n\"Sure, lemme find it, five sec..\" you fumble around your wallet. \"What's er name, is she in a sports team or something?\"\n\n\"Clementine, Clem for shorts.\" He replies. \"Nah, she just won a lil' school race, nothing big, but she was so happy... took a picture with ma' phone, got it printed out at work.\"\n\n\"She's cute! But hang on. Aww, here it is.\" You show him the picture of Aurora at the water park, in her body swimsuit splashing water at you. It's subtitled: 'Aurora on the attack.' Her suit fits her so well in this picture, showing her thin arms, thighs, and fluffy tail; one can clearly see her svelte shape, and her happy puppy eyes are the perfect focus for this photograph. \n\nYou have pleasured yourself over this picture countless times, but Francis does not need to know that. Nobody needs to know that. Not your friends, not your daughter, and certainly not some random stranger you met at a bar. You bring your sixth beer bottle to your muzzle before you realize it's empty.\n\n\"Nice. Is that her name? Aurora? That's an original name.\" Francis asks, in a nonchalant tone. He does not seem really interested in your beautiful girl. That irritates you, for some irrational reason. You try to shake it off.\n\n\"Aura for shorts. She's the best. I kind of live for her now. Like I don't really have shit else to do. She's everything I got.\" You mumble drunkenly.\n\nThe horse gives you a thoughtful look, and an awkward silence falls on the both of you for a moment. There you go, you've said too much, revealed yourself as a sad, lonely dog. Francis speaks up, his voice as morose as yours:\n\n\"I wish I could say something to cheer you up but I'm kind of in the same boat, you know.\"\n\n\"Dude, I don't even date. I don't go out. I can't have another bitch ruin our lives!\" You start ranting. \"If I wasn't here, I'd be home watching Disney movies with her, helping her with homework or whatever.\"\n\n\"Same here. Same all around.\" The horse sighs. \"I've had a couple lays from those dating apps, but I've stopped looking for anything serious. I don't want my girl to have to deal with getting abandoned again.\"\n\n\"Exactly! What kind of parent abandons their children to go live on a boat in Greece! I can't even explain it to her.\" You're nearly shouting in the empty bar.\n\n\"You know, Clem's mother fought me for custody, but it was just to make sure I'd let go of the shared savings account. Used my girl as a bargaining chip. Never again, thanks.\" Francis says.\n\n\"Damn.\" You reply, commiserating.\n\nOnce again, an awkward silence falls over the table you're sharing. You have your face in your palms, pouring your heart out, while Francis is leaning his head on his right forearm, a sad expression on his face. Trying to cheer you up, he adds another personal fact:\n\n\"And I can't even bang the sitters, none of the good ones are younger than 50.\"\n\n\"Right?!\" You reply excitedly. \"Every time I hire a young one, they treat my baby so badly I have to fire them the same evening!\"\n\n\"A lot of college kids think babysitting is about watching TV and inviting friends over to enjoy the big house.\" The horse says, his voice full of contempt. \n\n\"Idiots. I always ask Aura how it went after. The fuckable sitters just ignore her, talk about bedtime as soon as I'm gone, then spend the rest of their evening chatting on Instapaw. I get rid of them so fast...\" you reply.\n\n\"You have to hire old ladies, with good references. They're the only ones who treat it as a real job. Probably a good thing for us though, young sitters are jailbait anyways.\n\n\"You've got that right. And my baby is sexier than all of them anyw... -\" you stop yourself from finishing the sentence. \"...nevermind.\"\n\nFuck. You slam your head into the table, hoping the stallion is either too drunk or too tired to have heard what you said. You're a bit drunk, but you realize you just can't say stuff like that. No one needs to hear what's in your sick head.\n\n\"Wait... what did you say?\" The stallion perked up, staring at you questioningly.\n\n\"I didn't mean... I mean the sitters aren't as nice looking as someone else I know -\" you realize you're not lying very convincingly, but surely the horse will drop it, he is not in the best shape either.\n\n\"No... I heard what you said.\"\n\n\"Look, I think it's time I hit the sack, it was nice meeting you but -\"\n\n\"Wait.\" The stallion says, suddenly whispering. \"Don't panic dude... I think about it the same way.\"\n\nYou whisper back, suddenly paranoid even though there's no one else around this late in the night. \"Don't... don't say that. I'm not like that. We shouldn't be talking about -\"\n\n\"I guess it's a small world.\" Francis whispers excitedly, looking down at his little girl on the picture. \"They look just like their mother, right? How can we not think of them this way.\"\n\nYou feel strange. Like a kid, discovering and furtively sharing a porn mag with your best friend at the school bathroom. Partners in crime. Paranoid, you look around the deserted hotel bar. \n\n\"Do you want to... talk about it? We should go back to one of our rooms, no?\" You say very quietly, avoiding the stallion's face.\n\n\"Okay, fair enough. This place is a bit open.\" Francis replies hurriedly.\n\nWhen you stand up, it becomes obvious both of you are pitching a tent. You have small, concerted chuckle about it and limp your way back to the hotel elevator. Once inside, you turn away from each other to avoid the other's gaze. This is quite embarrassing, in a way. You feel like a teenager. You very much hope you won't meet another sleepless guest while going back to your room, but even then if anyone sees the odd pair you make, they will just assume you're a couple gay guys. Much better than the truth.\n\nBy the time you enter your hotel room, the big stallion in tow, you have nearly entirely sobered up. What now?\n\n\"Jacob, what the hell am I here for?\" the horse says, his voice also noticeably less slurred.\n\n\"I'm wondering the same thing. To talk I guess?\" you reply.\n\n\"Maybe we should just go sleep.\" Francis says, his voice now uncertain.\n\n\"Wait a second, you're the one who wanted to bring it up. Before you go, can you tell me something?\" You ask in a pleading tone.\n\n\"Fine. Go ahead. I know what you're going to say -\"\n\n\"Have you done it? With yours?\" You ask quickly, before you can change your mind.\n\n\"No. No way. I love her. It would hurt her, and she'd never forgive me. And I would lose her.\" He sighs, a sad look on his face. He's telling the truth. \"And you? Did you do it?\"\n\n\"Impossible. It would break her, like you said. I can't do that to her.\"\n\n\"Don't dogs have pointy dicks? When she's sleeping and you're standing next to her, don't you get tempted to... just the tip?\" the stallion asks, a dreamy and hungry look on his face.\n\n\"Every time I start thinking like that, I just scream inside my head to think about something else.\" You reply. It is only a half truth, he is right, you have thought about it many times, but you had always been too scared to go over the edge. You knew if you tried, she would wake up, and both your lives would change for the worse.\n\n\"Yeah... I know. But I just think about how young and small my ex was when I met her and, you know, girls are quite flexible, you just have to, I don't know, open them up...\"\n\n\"I probably fantasize about it as much as you. You see this picture?\" You show him Aurora in her swimsuit again. \"I've jacked off so many times on it. Isn't she the sexiest girl in the world -\"\n\nTaking another appreciative look at your daughter, Francis brings up the photograph of his little filly under the light, next to yours.\n\n\"She's okay, but she doesn't compare to my Clem. A distant second maybe.\" The horse brags. \n\n Annoyed, you start arguing with him again:\n\n\"What? You're crazy. My baby is way hotter than yours. We can't even see yours under that school uniform. Look at that swimsuit's curves!\"\n\n\"Maybe that's why you think yours compares, because you can't see Clementine's lines. When she's under the shower, she's a goddess, I'm telling you. I keep finding excuses to take a peek at her these days, but she's getting more and more shy -\"\n\nPutting both pictures on the small table in the hotel room, you pick up his daughter's likeness to observe it more critically. He picks up yours: both of you are now holding the others' daughter photograph in your palm for a while, silent. You break the silence first:\n\n\"I... I have a really bad idea.\"\n\n\"I know what you're thinking. You want to trade pictures. It won't work. I'd still be thinking about Clem.\"\n\n\"No... I have a way worse idea.\"\n\nSlowly, you close your fist around the picture of his daughter. He stares at you, silent, a bit confused. And then, as he begins to understand, he closes his fist around your little Aurora too.\n\n\"Noooo...\" the horse pleads. He does not want to imagine it.\n\n\"Think about it Francis.\" You are whispering again. \"We both don't want to hurt them ourselves, because we'd lose their trust forever!\"\n\n\"No.\" The stallion replies, trying to sound resolute.\n\n\"There's got to be... there's got to be a way we can open them up for each other and still be the good guys.\" You add, trying to convince yourself too.\n\n\"No way.\"\n\n\"Just think about it for a second!\" you plead.\n\nContemplatively, the big horse opens his large hand again and looks at your innocent looking pup in her swimsuit. You do the same, and the both of you look at your respective daughters in the hands of another man.\n\n\"What would be the point? If I gave Clem to you I would still be hurting her, she would blame me!\" Francis asks.\n\n\"But they don't know we know each other. We could play the bad guys. What if I show up at your house when you're not there, and then... and then -\" you reply, formulating an idea.\n\n\"Take her forcibly? Are you insane? I'm not about to give her away so you can get your dick wet!\"\n\n\"It wouldn't be for me!\" You reply. \"It would be for yourself, so you can explore that stuff with her later! And if you do the same for mine, when I come home I'd be able to comfort her. To be with her after it happens. To protect her and -\" As the idea becomes clearer in your mind, you explain it faster and faster. Francis interrupts you:\n\n\"To do her again, just after I did? There's no way I'd do that to my own kid.\" His voice sounds uncertain.\n\n\"Not right away. Not even the same day. I'd make her feel safe, I'd get her in the shower, help her clean up, keep her from telling anyone, all protective like. I'd fake anger, swear revenge, but I would also be able to explain to her what she suffered through. I'm pretty sure I could lead that into more later, and she would... she would be prepared for it. You'd make sure of that.\" You're talking fast, getting more and more excited.\n\nThe horse stays quiet. He doesn't have an answer to that, imagining the same thing with his daughter. Is he really considering it? When he speaks up, he gives you another argument against it:\n\n\"I don't want my girl's cherry to get popped by a complete stranger.\"\n\n\"Francis that is going to happen regardless. In a couple years some boys are going to pressure our girls to give them a blowjob in a school janitor's closet, and it all goes downhill from there.\" You answer quickly.\n\n\"NEVER!\" the big stallion shouts. \"FUCK THAT, I'LL KILL THEM. I'll protect her.\"\n\n\"Shhhh shut the fuck up.\" You shush him in a panicked voice. \"Don't yell, these walls aren't thick enough to shout.\" You pause, waiting for him to calm down. \"And that's a great plan by the way. The overprotective father. Then she'll really hate you, she'll do it just to spite you.\"\n\n\"Your plan is much, much worse.\" He grumps, quieter.\n\n\"Okay so listen to this. We both show up at each other's place. We ring the doorbell, gain entry somehow.\" Carefully, you enunciate a plan: \"I can tell you what you need to say to trick mine into letting you inside the house. Before it happens, I'll have locked every door, every window in the house and... you make things happen... when you're done you leave and I come back. I play the good dad for a while, and I don't let her say anything to anyone.\"\n\nFrancis says silent, pondering what you just said.\n\n\"And if you do it to mine, I'd do the same for you. Only if you want of course. I don't give a shit about your kid, to be honest. But I'm offering my services.\" You continue, a bit uncertain of his reaction.\n\n\"Feelings' mutual. I don't really care about your girl, no offense.\" The horse says.\n\n\"See that's perfect! That's how we would be able to do it. Since we don't know or care about the other kid, I'm sure we can... open them up... even if it hurts them a little. Have you ever done it with a virgin?\" you ask awkwardly.\n\n\"Yeah I know how it goes. Never with a cub though. It'd be a bit more difficult... but it's probably doable.\" Francis replies, all matter of fact like.\n\n\"Holy shit, are you agreeing to do it?\" you ask with bated breath.\n\n\"I didn't say that. I didn't. I'm just answering the question.\" He replies quickly.\n\n\"Do you think it could work? How would I get inside your house, for example? I can tell you if you arrive in overalls with a package marked with her name Aura will be too excited to follow my advice on stranger danger. She's crazy about receiving packages and letters!\"\n\n\"I mean that'd be the easy part. I can tell mine someone's coming to fix the plumbing or the phone or something. She'll let you in.\" Francis says.\n\n\"No, no, you can't be part of it at all. It has to be her fault that she let someone in.\" You answer.\n\n\"You've really thought this through huh? Sure, I guess. Same thing as yours then, just tell her you've got a delivery for me.\" He replies. But he's still trying to find flaws in your plan: \"What about babysitters? I don't really leave her alone by herself.\"\n\n\"Just start doing that this week. I've already let mine be in the house for up to one hour when I go to the store. I'd just do the same that day but make it two hours.\" You answer quickly.\n\n\"Yeah, I guess she's old enough, we're not that far from it. Just give me a week to do it a couple times so it's not so obvious that I set her up.\" He says slowly, considering the best course of action.\n\n\"Now you really are agreeing to it. You're even setting up a date.\"\n\nBoth of you are tense now, and excited. You are exactly on the same page. When he realizes what he's saying, Francis pauses, his last words hanging in the air. You are both very visibly pitching a tent, but neither of you mind. In fact, it fuels this talk, this plan. Somehow, it makes you feel safer talking to him, like if you were in a gangster movie, getting the new guy to kill someone or sniff some drugs to make sure he is not a cop. That enormous bulge going down his left leg is all the proof you need. \n\n\"It's insane...\" The horse says, licking his lips nervously.\n\n\"There are risks.\" You reply. \"But we can manage them, bring them to near zero.\"\n\n\"What if she tells the cops. What if she tells a teacher.\" He wonders, nearly to himself.\n\n\"We can keep that from happening. Right after it they'll be naked and ashamed. They'll probably be a bit traumatized, too, afraid of strangers. Make sure there's no phones she can reach that day, and ideally we'll arrive right after the other one left. You live practically in the same part of town as me, it'd be easy to do it at the same time.\" You talk fast.\n\n\"What's the worst case scenario. I know mine will keep quiet if I tell her to, but what if yours says something?\" the horse asks, distrustful.\n\n\"At worst? They tell someone, the cops show up. We can tell them we kept it secret because we didn't want them to be shamed for the rest of their lives, and that we had planned to find and hurt the rapists ourselves. And there will be plenty of DNA evidence to show it's not the father. You've got no priors, right?\" you ask him.\n\n\"Nope. But isn't that a bad thing? Leaving evidence?\" the horse asks, hesitant.\n\n\"Just don't commit any other crimes. Cops have nothing on you, and they won't randomly collect the DNA of everyone in town. But do wear gloves, your fingerprints could already be in the system.\" You add.\n\n\"Makes sense. But it's better if no one knows.\" Francis frowns. His brain no longer doing most of the thinking, he doesn't try to come up with more arguments.\n\n\"I have a soundproof office. You could... you could do it there, I'll show you the layout.\" You pant, more and more excited.\n\n\"I can set up a mattress in my basement.\" Francis replies, just as excited.\n\n\"Hell yeah! I'll fuck your Clementine's brains out on that thing!\" you declare, unable to contain your excitement but remembering to go back to whispering halfway through.\n\n\"Your little bitch won't be able to walk when I'm done with her.\" Francis brags, in the same hushed tone.\n\nGiving him back the picture of the little filly you would forcibly prepare for him, you extend your hand. The stallion shakes it nervously, and gives you back the photograph of the swimsuit princess he, in exchange, had agreed to defile for you.\n\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Characters:
Jacob Miller, 35, male golden retriever. Father of Aurora, 11.
Francis Parish, 37, male mustang. Father of Clementine, 10.

Part 1: Planning

When you met Francis today, he had seemed like an utterly un-interesting, boorish horse at first. Both of you were stuck in the same hotel the whole weekend for a useless IT management conference your boss had volunteered you to go to in his stead. Frankly, you could not even remember a single useful thing any of the presenters had said during the workshops. These things were all the same anyways, no one expected you to come back from them a changed man.

Francis was not a presenter, and he did not work at your company, but he had been assigned a seat next to you, seemingly taking notes during the series of inane speeches about management workflow. He was the only one in the room taking notes, and you remember at the time you had thought only a special kind of corporate drone would write down anything said during these useless presentations.

But now that you two are the only ones left in the hotel bar, after the conference dinner party has petered out, to be polite you strike a conversation with him, asking if any of the notes he took were useful. Smiling mischievously, he shows you his notepad, filled with crude drawings of the presenters with their worst quotes above them.

You point at one his drawings: an overweight hen with the 'Karen' haircut spouting "Make your library of competence expand throughout your assets".

"I remember that one. How do they come up with this stuff, do you think they just input a bunch of business sounding words in a random number generator and then just pick whatever sounds best?"

"Don't ask me. I don't care about any of it. I only draw these because it makes my kid laugh when I come home." The horse replies, pen in hand, adding a flowery dialog bubble around the quote.

"Oh, lucky guy, my own kid doesn't want to hear anything about her old man's work, and she gets really pissed when I leave her a whole weekend with a baby-sitter." You sigh.

Since you are both stuck in this hotel one night longer, you have nothing better to do than to get drunk, and since you found you both have a lot in common, with no barman to send you home, you have enough rounds with Francis that the inebriated conversation ends up a little bit personal, commiserating about your lack of love lives, about your terrible wives that left you both single fathers. And finally, about your two respective daughters:

"Here's mine. D'you have a picture of yours, Jacob?" says the horse in a slightly slurred voice. Between his fingers is a photograph of a young, happy filly, dressed in a school uniform. She's beaming with pride as some trophy of some sort is handed to her. Athletics maybe?

"Sure, lemme find it, five sec.." you fumble around your wallet. "What's er name, is she in a sports team or something?"

"Clementine, Clem for shorts." He replies. "Nah, she just won a lil' school race, nothing big, but she was so happy... took a picture with ma' phone, got it printed out at work."

"She's cute! But hang on. Aww, here it is." You show him the picture of Aurora at the water park, in her body swimsuit splashing water at you. It's subtitled: 'Aurora on the attack.' Her suit fits her so well in this picture, showing her thin arms, thighs, and fluffy tail; one can clearly see her svelte shape, and her happy puppy eyes are the perfect focus for this photograph.

You have pleasured yourself over this picture countless times, but Francis does not need to know that. Nobody needs to know that. Not your friends, not your daughter, and certainly not some random stranger you met at a bar. You bring your sixth beer bottle to your muzzle before you realize it's empty.

"Nice. Is that her name? Aurora? That's an original name." Francis asks, in a nonchalant tone. He does not seem really interested in your beautiful girl. That irritates you, for some irrational reason. You try to shake it off.

"Aura for shorts. She's the best. I kind of live for her now. Like I don't really have shit else to do. She's everything I got." You mumble drunkenly.

The horse gives you a thoughtful look, and an awkward silence falls on the both of you for a moment. There you go, you've said too much, revealed yourself as a sad, lonely dog. Francis speaks up, his voice as morose as yours:

"I wish I could say something to cheer you up but I'm kind of in the same boat, you know."

"Dude, I don't even date. I don't go out. I can't have another bitch ruin our lives!" You start ranting. "If I wasn't here, I'd be home watching Disney movies with her, helping her with homework or whatever."

"Same here. Same all around." The horse sighs. "I've had a couple lays from those dating apps, but I've stopped looking for anything serious. I don't want my girl to have to deal with getting abandoned again."

"Exactly! What kind of parent abandons their children to go live on a boat in Greece! I can't even explain it to her." You're nearly shouting in the empty bar.

"You know, Clem's mother fought me for custody, but it was just to make sure I'd let go of the shared savings account. Used my girl as a bargaining chip. Never again, thanks." Francis says.

"Damn." You reply, commiserating.

Once again, an awkward silence falls over the table you're sharing. You have your face in your palms, pouring your heart out, while Francis is leaning his head on his right forearm, a sad expression on his face. Trying to cheer you up, he adds another personal fact:

"And I can't even bang the sitters, none of the good ones are younger than 50."

"Right?!" You reply excitedly. "Every time I hire a young one, they treat my baby so badly I have to fire them the same evening!"

"A lot of college kids think babysitting is about watching TV and inviting friends over to enjoy the big house." The horse says, his voice full of contempt.

"Idiots. I always ask Aura how it went after. The fuckable sitters just ignore her, talk about bedtime as soon as I'm gone, then spend the rest of their evening chatting on Instapaw. I get rid of them so fast..." you reply.

"You have to hire old ladies, with good references. They're the only ones who treat it as a real job. Probably a good thing for us though, young sitters are jailbait anyways.

"You've got that right. And my baby is sexier than all of them anyw... -" you stop yourself from finishing the sentence. "...nevermind."

Fuck. You slam your head into the table, hoping the stallion is either too drunk or too tired to have heard what you said. You're a bit drunk, but you realize you just can't say stuff like that. No one needs to hear what's in your sick head.

"Wait... what did you say?" The stallion perked up, staring at you questioningly.

"I didn't mean... I mean the sitters aren't as nice looking as someone else I know -" you realize you're not lying very convincingly, but surely the horse will drop it, he is not in the best shape either.

"No... I heard what you said."

"Look, I think it's time I hit the sack, it was nice meeting you but -"

"Wait." The stallion says, suddenly whispering. "Don't panic dude... I think about it the same way."

You whisper back, suddenly paranoid even though there's no one else around this late in the night. "Don't... don't say that. I'm not like that. We shouldn't be talking about -"

"I guess it's a small world." Francis whispers excitedly, looking down at his little girl on the picture. "They look just like their mother, right? How can we not think of them this way."

You feel strange. Like a kid, discovering and furtively sharing a porn mag with your best friend at the school bathroom. Partners in crime. Paranoid, you look around the deserted hotel bar.

"Do you want to... talk about it? We should go back to one of our rooms, no?" You say very quietly, avoiding the stallion's face.

"Okay, fair enough. This place is a bit open." Francis replies hurriedly.

When you stand up, it becomes obvious both of you are pitching a tent. You have small, concerted chuckle about it and limp your way back to the hotel elevator. Once inside, you turn away from each other to avoid the other's gaze. This is quite embarrassing, in a way. You feel like a teenager. You very much hope you won't meet another sleepless guest while going back to your room, but even then if anyone sees the odd pair you make, they will just assume you're a couple gay guys. Much better than the truth.

By the time you enter your hotel room, the big stallion in tow, you have nearly entirely sobered up. What now?

"Jacob, what the hell am I here for?" the horse says, his voice also noticeably less slurred.

"I'm wondering the same thing. To talk I guess?" you reply.

"Maybe we should just go sleep." Francis says, his voice now uncertain.

"Wait a second, you're the one who wanted to bring it up. Before you go, can you tell me something?" You ask in a pleading tone.

"Fine. Go ahead. I know what you're going to say -"

"Have you done it? With yours?" You ask quickly, before you can change your mind.

"No. No way. I love her. It would hurt her, and she'd never forgive me. And I would lose her." He sighs, a sad look on his face. He's telling the truth. "And you? Did you do it?"

"Impossible. It would break her, like you said. I can't do that to her."

"Don't dogs have pointy dicks? When she's sleeping and you're standing next to her, don't you get tempted to... just the tip?" the stallion asks, a dreamy and hungry look on his face.

"Every time I start thinking like that, I just scream inside my head to think about something else." You reply. It is only a half truth, he is right, you have thought about it many times, but you had always been too scared to go over the edge. You knew if you tried, she would wake up, and both your lives would change for the worse.

"Yeah... I know. But I just think about how young and small my ex was when I met her and, you know, girls are quite flexible, you just have to, I don't know, open them up..."

"I probably fantasize about it as much as you. You see this picture?" You show him Aurora in her swimsuit again. "I've jacked off so many times on it. Isn't she the sexiest girl in the world -"

Taking another appreciative look at your daughter, Francis brings up the photograph of his little filly under the light, next to yours.

"She's okay, but she doesn't compare to my Clem. A distant second maybe." The horse brags.

 Annoyed, you start arguing with him again:

"What? You're crazy. My baby is way hotter than yours. We can't even see yours under that school uniform. Look at that swimsuit's curves!"

"Maybe that's why you think yours compares, because you can't see Clementine's lines. When she's under the shower, she's a goddess, I'm telling you. I keep finding excuses to take a peek at her these days, but she's getting more and more shy -"

Putting both pictures on the small table in the hotel room, you pick up his daughter's likeness to observe it more critically. He picks up yours: both of you are now holding the others' daughter photograph in your palm for a while, silent. You break the silence first:

"I... I have a really bad idea."

"I know what you're thinking. You want to trade pictures. It won't work. I'd still be thinking about Clem."

"No... I have a way worse idea."

Slowly, you close your fist around the picture of his daughter. He stares at you, silent, a bit confused. And then, as he begins to understand, he closes his fist around your little Aurora too.

"Noooo..." the horse pleads. He does not want to imagine it.

"Think about it Francis." You are whispering again. "We both don't want to hurt them ourselves, because we'd lose their trust forever!"

"No." The stallion replies, trying to sound resolute.

"There's got to be... there's got to be a way we can open them up for each other and still be the good guys." You add, trying to convince yourself too.

"No way."

"Just think about it for a second!" you plead.

Contemplatively, the big horse opens his large hand again and looks at your innocent looking pup in her swimsuit. You do the same, and the both of you look at your respective daughters in the hands of another man.

"What would be the point? If I gave Clem to you I would still be hurting her, she would blame me!" Francis asks.

"But they don't know we know each other. We could play the bad guys. What if I show up at your house when you're not there, and then... and then -" you reply, formulating an idea.

"Take her forcibly? Are you insane? I'm not about to give her away so you can get your dick wet!"

"It wouldn't be for me!" You reply. "It would be for yourself, so you can explore that stuff with her later! And if you do the same for mine, when I come home I'd be able to comfort her. To be with her after it happens. To protect her and -" As the idea becomes clearer in your mind, you explain it faster and faster. Francis interrupts you:

"To do her again, just after I did? There's no way I'd do that to my own kid." His voice sounds uncertain.

"Not right away. Not even the same day. I'd make her feel safe, I'd get her in the shower, help her clean up, keep her from telling anyone, all protective like. I'd fake anger, swear revenge, but I would also be able to explain to her what she suffered through. I'm pretty sure I could lead that into more later, and she would... she would be prepared for it. You'd make sure of that." You're talking fast, getting more and more excited.

The horse stays quiet. He doesn't have an answer to that, imagining the same thing with his daughter. Is he really considering it? When he speaks up, he gives you another argument against it:

"I don't want my girl's cherry to get popped by a complete stranger."

"Francis that is going to happen regardless. In a couple years some boys are going to pressure our girls to give them a blowjob in a school janitor's closet, and it all goes downhill from there." You answer quickly.

"NEVER!" the big stallion shouts. "FUCK THAT, I'LL KILL THEM. I'll protect her."

"Shhhh shut the fuck up." You shush him in a panicked voice. "Don't yell, these walls aren't thick enough to shout." You pause, waiting for him to calm down. "And that's a great plan by the way. The overprotective father. Then she'll really hate you, she'll do it just to spite you."

"Your plan is much, much worse." He grumps, quieter.

"Okay so listen to this. We both show up at each other's place. We ring the doorbell, gain entry somehow." Carefully, you enunciate a plan: "I can tell you what you need to say to trick mine into letting you inside the house. Before it happens, I'll have locked every door, every window in the house and... you make things happen... when you're done you leave and I come back. I play the good dad for a while, and I don't let her say anything to anyone."

Francis says silent, pondering what you just said.

"And if you do it to mine, I'd do the same for you. Only if you want of course. I don't give a shit about your kid, to be honest. But I'm offering my services." You continue, a bit uncertain of his reaction.

"Feelings' mutual. I don't really care about your girl, no offense." The horse says.

"See that's perfect! That's how we would be able to do it. Since we don't know or care about the other kid, I'm sure we can... open them up... even if it hurts them a little. Have you ever done it with a virgin?" you ask awkwardly.

"Yeah I know how it goes. Never with a cub though. It'd be a bit more difficult... but it's probably doable." Francis replies, all matter of fact like.

"Holy shit, are you agreeing to do it?" you ask with bated breath.

"I didn't say that. I didn't. I'm just answering the question." He replies quickly.

"Do you think it could work? How would I get inside your house, for example? I can tell you if you arrive in overalls with a package marked with her name Aura will be too excited to follow my advice on stranger danger. She's crazy about receiving packages and letters!"

"I mean that'd be the easy part. I can tell mine someone's coming to fix the plumbing or the phone or something. She'll let you in." Francis says.

"No, no, you can't be part of it at all. It has to be her fault that she let someone in." You answer.

"You've really thought this through huh? Sure, I guess. Same thing as yours then, just tell her you've got a delivery for me." He replies. But he's still trying to find flaws in your plan: "What about babysitters? I don't really leave her alone by herself."

"Just start doing that this week. I've already let mine be in the house for up to one hour when I go to the store. I'd just do the same that day but make it two hours." You answer quickly.

"Yeah, I guess she's old enough, we're not that far from it. Just give me a week to do it a couple times so it's not so obvious that I set her up." He says slowly, considering the best course of action.

"Now you really are agreeing to it. You're even setting up a date."

Both of you are tense now, and excited. You are exactly on the same page. When he realizes what he's saying, Francis pauses, his last words hanging in the air. You are both very visibly pitching a tent, but neither of you mind. In fact, it fuels this talk, this plan. Somehow, it makes you feel safer talking to him, like if you were in a gangster movie, getting the new guy to kill someone or sniff some drugs to make sure he is not a cop. That enormous bulge going down his left leg is all the proof you need.

"It's insane..." The horse says, licking his lips nervously.

"There are risks." You reply. "But we can manage them, bring them to near zero."

"What if she tells the cops. What if she tells a teacher." He wonders, nearly to himself.

"We can keep that from happening. Right after it they'll be naked and ashamed. They'll probably be a bit traumatized, too, afraid of strangers. Make sure there's no phones she can reach that day, and ideally we'll arrive right after the other one left. You live practically in the same part of town as me, it'd be easy to do it at the same time." You talk fast.

"What's the worst case scenario. I know mine will keep quiet if I tell her to, but what if yours says something?" the horse asks, distrustful.

"At worst? They tell someone, the cops show up. We can tell them we kept it secret because we didn't want them to be shamed for the rest of their lives, and that we had planned to find and hurt the rapists ourselves. And there will be plenty of DNA evidence to show it's not the father. You've got no priors, right?" you ask him.

"Nope. But isn't that a bad thing? Leaving evidence?" the horse asks, hesitant.

"Just don't commit any other crimes. Cops have nothing on you, and they won't randomly collect the DNA of everyone in town. But do wear gloves, your fingerprints could already be in the system." You add.

"Makes sense. But it's better if no one knows." Francis frowns. His brain no longer doing most of the thinking, he doesn't try to come up with more arguments.

"I have a soundproof office. You could... you could do it there, I'll show you the layout." You pant, more and more excited.

"I can set up a mattress in my basement." Francis replies, just as excited.

"Hell yeah! I'll fuck your Clementine's brains out on that thing!" you declare, unable to contain your excitement but remembering to go back to whispering halfway through.

"Your little bitch won't be able to walk when I'm done with her." Francis brags, in the same hushed tone.

Giving him back the picture of the little filly you would forcibly prepare for him, you extend your hand. The stallion shakes it nervously, and gives you back the photograph of the swimsuit princess he, in exchange, had agreed to defile for you.

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