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"Yeah, suck my fat dick, daddy-o..."

Cebrin spluttered and choked, trying to breathe around the monstrous tube of flesh blocking his throat. He looked up at Billy with tears in his eyes, but his son either didn't notice or didn't care. Probably the latter.

"Fuck, Cebrin," Billy murmured to his father, "you feel extra-tight today. You been practising those exercises I told you to?" He pushed in deeper, another inch of his unbearably thick cock sliding down Cebrin's throat. The older stallion shut his eyes, throat spasming around the invader, trying to swallow but only inadvertently pleasuring his son. His nostrils flared wide, pulling in every scrap of air that he could as his chest burned.

"Shit, pops," his son said, "I'm actually glad that wolf was a frigid bitch now. No way his ass would be as good as this. Being your boy's cock-sleeve always looks so good on you." He began to thrust, the nubbed corona of his engorged flare scraping painfully along his father's raw throat. Cebrin whined, and made gagging sounds, and wished they'd never come to the fair.

Cebrin had hoped to have a normal day -- or, at least, as normal as things got these days. Billy had wanted to be seen with his proud dad, walking around, impressing everyone. The school's most popular senior stallion and his doting father. Of course, Cebrin never really got a vote in what they did, but for once he hadn't minded. He could do a fair. It was public, there were lots of people. Maybe they'd even spend some proper quality time together, instead of...instead of just bedroom time.

They'd posed for a vintage photo at a stand being run by an attractive wolf. Cebrin had known what Billy had in mind the moment his son guided him over, one arm draped protectively across his father's shoulders to make sure he didn't get "lost". His horny son had the same look in his eye as he leered at the wolf that his father saw all the time at home. And when the photo was taken, and Billy had sauntered over to join the wolf in the makeshift darkroom, Cebrin had had the good grace to feel a little ashamed at how relieved he was. Maybe he'd get a break from his son's insatiable sexual appetite for a few hours, and someone else could endure his...attentions.

"You sound so fucking good on my prick, daddy-o. Lemme hear how much you like it. Lemme hear you choke on my stallion cock". Cebrin tried to give a moan of faux delight, but it came out as a cut-off cough. His son was thrusting into him now, and as he pulled out each time, Cebrin got a chance to grab a single breath around the spit-coated cock before it slid back in. It was barely enough; he was starting to feel light-headed.

One of the many things that always made him wonder how he'd sired a colt like Billy was the tall Friesian's endowment. It was a true stallion penis: a weighty, vascular slab of flesh that put his piddling todger to shame. Even sheathed, it left a bulge in his pants that had the ladies crying themselves to sleep, and most of the males questioning their sexuality. He could never forget the first time his son had walked in on him while he was masturbating. Billy had stood next to the bed, mocking his father's small penis before fishing out his own huge member. "Is this the first time you've seen a real man, dad?" he'd sneered, slapping the soft flesh against his father's face. "I'm fucking amazing you managed to make a kid with that embarrassment between your legs. Are you even sure you're a horse? Fuck, are you even a male?" Cebrin had had no response; he'd just laid there as his cock softened in humiliation. He'd never thought about it before Billy mentioned it; now, he thought about it all the time.

When Billy had unexpectedly walked out of the darkroom, not a minute after he entered, there was far more than a bulge visible. But it hadn't been nearly long enough for him to do what he'd hoped. Cebrin had felt a kernel of smugness; it was so rare that his tall, handsome, popular son didn't get what he wanted. A ghost of that must have leaked onto his face, because the bigger stallion had worn a thunderous expression as he'd stalked over to where his father waited. Cebrin had shrunk back from the approaching storm, knowing what was going to happen next, and feeling his stomach roil in fear.

Billy had grabbed him around the shoulders and pulled him to his feet. His son had this way of holding Cebrin that looked filial and loving, but ensured he couldn't even think of moving in another direction than the one Billy pushed him in. Cebrin had tried to beg, keeping his voice low, holding onto a smile that grew more brittle by the second. Couldn't let anyone see that anything was wrong. He whimpered to his son to please not do this, but the arrogant kid didn't listen. He never did. Billy called the shots now; he had for years, ever since he'd hit puberty, and started getting bigger and stronger than his father.

Cebrin had never been a strong-willed individual, and his son's burgeoning arrogance as he grew into a powerful, handsome horse had soon taken control of the household. He'd enjoyed dominating his pathetic father: taunting him, teasing him about how he couldn't control anything. His life. His job. His son. He had never let his father forget who ran the show. Eventually, one fateful night after a date gone bad, Billy had been frustrated enough to slam open his father's bedroom door. His father had jerked awake in confusion, his son's massive outline shadowing the doorframe like a vision of a demon. As the older stallion tried to wake up fully, he'd found himself trapped underneath a mass of drunk, horny stallion. Billy had taken him then, for the first time. Who knew how many times since.

And today, he'd done it again. Billy had frog-marched him to the edge of the fair and pushed him inside the first empty tent he saw. As Cebrin sprawled to the straw-covered floor, his son was already undoing his pants.

"You think it's funny when your son can't get laid, dad?" he'd asked nastily. "Well, that's fair...you probably want my dick all to yourself, huh? Daddy loves a real stallion's cock. Like mine. Alright then, pops, you can have it."

Cebrin had been exhausted. Sweaty. Aching all over. He had had neither the will nor the strength to stand up to Billy, but he tried -- weakly.

"P-please son, not here...we can go home, ok?" he'd whined. He hadn't mean to whine, but that was the only way he sounded when he was intimidated by his tall son. "We can go home and, and you can do your thing there..." It wouldn't be less demeaning, but at least it would be hidden from everyone else.

"Shut the fuck up, Cebrin," his son had told him dismissively, then groaned in relief when his hardening penis flopped out. He'd stroked it a couple of times, looking down at it with smug satisfaction. Cebrin had long since lost count of how many times he'd seen Billy's cock, and it still scared the shit out of him. There was no way something that big could fit inside him -- in either end -- without hurting. Which it did. Every time.

As Cebrin babbled desperately to try to persuade his son not to do it, Billy had pulled him towards him -- barely two feet in from the tent entrance -- and had shut him up with a mouthful of his cock, pushed in roughly and uncleaned. He'd tasted of smegma and old piss. "Watch the fucking teeth this time, asshole!" he'd growled. "Or do you want me busting that ass open instead?" Cebrin hadn't; that hurt much more. So, he'd sniffled and tried his best to stretch his mouth wide, to not scrape his teeth on his son's stallion pride, and then gagged when Billy shoved half of it in at once. Billy never went slow. Billy liked to hear his dad choking on his dick.

"Uh-oh, daddy-o...I think I hear someone coming..."

Cebrin's eyes flew open in panic. He tried to pull back, but Billy was ready for him and pulled forward suddenly on his mane. Cebrin's son was far stronger than he was -- years of water polo had made sure of that -- and the older stallion stood no chance of breaking free. The sudden change in direction caught him unawares, allowing the last couple of inches of his son's night-black cock to slam into him. The hefty flare began to swell, and Cebrin's burning throat felt worse. He shut his eyes and whimpered, tears leaking into Billy's pubes. He tried to beg, but couldn't form words. "Plf...sn...plfff..."

Billy leered down at him. "Where are you going, daddy-o? I haven't given you my creamy present yet." He made a show of leaning back to peer out of the tent flaps. "Yeah, definitely someone coming, pops...man, imagine what they'll say when they see you sucking on your boy's cock like you were born to it, huh? Shit, maybe it'll be Mr Linetto, huh? Didn't you two go to school together? I wonder if he knows I fuck his son every time he's on a business trip. He definitely doesn't know what we do, hey? Wonder if he'd be into it." Like the leitmotif to his emasculation, the slap, slap, slap of his son's fat balls knocking into him filled the tent. Billy continued to use his father's mane like a halter, feeding him stallion penis by the inch, and moaning every time he felt his father's lips forced to meet his skin. The burning agony of the flare in his gullet was starting to become overwhelming.

"Oh-oh...sounds like they're really close, daddy-o," his son warned in a fake whisper. "Better be super quiet, or they'll hear you giving oral to your handsome son, you dirty fuck. I'll tell them you made me do it." He raised his deep voice a few octaves. "Oh, son, let daddy taste your willy...let him drink your yummy cum..."

Cebrin shook with terror, desperately trying to calm his breathing. He didn't know if someone really was coming; Billy loved to taunt his father with threats of discovery. But he couldn't risk it. The godlike flare blocking his throat now at least meant that his squeaks of fear were somewhat muffled. He gripped Billy's legs, trying to transfer the pain of the cock's passage. He let himself fade a little, into the mantra that he tried to use in these episodes. It will pass. It will pass. It will pass...

He felt his son's muscles tense, and he could have sobbed with relief. Billy's orgasm was close, then. He did his best to focus on pleasuring the thick stallion cock in the way that seemed to stimulate his son the most, and even threw in some softer choking noises for him. It was almost over. Please, let it be over. Let nobody find them. Let it end.

The grip on his mane tightened once more, and suddenly he was being pulled back, the long penis sliding out of him with a schlock. He cried out in pain as the flare rubbed along the raw flesh of his throat and nearly knocked out some teeth, but then instinctively took a massive breath, gasping and coughing. He looked up at Billy through watery eyes; his son had taken his cock in hand and was masturbating furiously. "Yeah daddy," he whispered, his eyes closed and one hand tweaking at a nipple, "you love sucking my cock, huh, you weak-shit stallion fuck. Love taking your boy's thick meat, choking on my dick, getting covered in my cum. Do you feel like a real man when I've filled you, dad? You're not. You never will be. I'm the man around here, shithead...aaahhh...yeah, daddy-o, here it coooOOOOMES..."

Cebrin knew better than to try and avoid it. In truth, he was just grateful that the worst was over. He shut his eyes, lowered his muzzle, and listened as his son's orgasm crested, and felt the heat of his slimy seed splatter over his face and nose. The smell of it, right in his nostrils, almost had him gagging again. But, small mercies: at least his son lacked volume. In two big shots and a third weaker one, it was over. The oozing seed dripped down onto the floor as he sat there, listless, waiting. He was marked again. Marked by his son. He was no worthy father. No proper father would let his son abuse him like this. But...Billy was better than him in every way. Smarter, stronger, better-looking. Better hung. It was the way of things. The strong controlled the weak. The son controlled the father.

He waited with resignation for the final act. It didn't take long; Billy groaned again in deep satisfaction, and Cebrin's lips tasted the salty, overpowering savour of stallion urine. Billy always pissed after he came. Not always onto his father, but often. It splashed over his head, the too-warm liquid almost strong enough to wash away the cum, but not quite. It drenched his clothes and soaked into his fur. He would stink of Billy for days to come; longer, if his son didn't let him wash it off. Bearing the scent of the horse who dominated him like a badge of shame.

A gust of wind blew against him -- and something softer with it. He opened his eyes. Billy was doing his pants back up, kicking some straw up onto him as he did, making it stick to his cum- and urine-soaked skin. "You're a fucking mess, dad," he snorted. "I can't let people see you like this, it's embarrassing." He pointed out the back of the tent. "Sneak out there, and go back to the car. Wait for me there. And don't fucking drip on my towels. I got 'polo later." And with that, he was gone.

Cebrin sat on the floor for a few minutes in silence, not moving. The semen coagulated into his fur, the piss cooled, and the distant sounds of the fair drifted over. Tears formed in his eyes once more, and with a shaking hand, he reached down to undo his own pants. He wished he was stronger. He wished he didn't want to do this. He wished the same thing, every time. Wishing never made it real.

"I'm sorry, son, daddy's hopeless. Daddy's pathetic." He whispered the words like he'd whispered the mantra earlier. "You need to punish daddy for being such a bad father, son. You need to make him better." His hands gripped the outside of his chastity cage. Billy hadn't even needed to get a horse-size cage for him, he was so small. "Punish daddy, Billy. Remind him how much better you are." The tears mixed with the semen on his fur and dripped onto his soft cock. "Daddy deserves it, son...make daddy a bitch...it's only fair..."

He crawled on all fours to the rear of the tent and struggled under the fabric. The car was parked half a mile distant. There was a very good chance someone would see him. With a lowered face, he began to walk.