The gift of a Christmas fucking

by Tym Greene

A panther decides to give his too-well-endowed horse boyfriend something special for Xmas.

“And you say this is guaranteed to work?” The chubby panther looked at the vial of violently-glowing potion he’d been handed.

“Guaranteed,” said the shopkeeper. Outside, the snow was beginning to form drifts against the buildings of the “Old Town” district, plastered half-timber frames creaking with ice as the last few merchants began shutting their doors. The ferret standing before Theodore clearly wanted to be on his way home as well, and it looked like he was starting to regret staying open so late just to make a few last-minute Christmas Eve sales.

Shivering—though from a sudden draft or from anticipation of what was in that bottle, he couldn’t tell—Theodore finally nodded, handed over the required bills, and slipped the vial into his pocket. “Merry Christmas,” the ferret muttered as he bustled his customer out the door and flipped his shop’s sign to Closed.

Standing in ankle-deep snow, Theodore was glad to have the layers of sweater and shirt, as well as the knit tail-warmer his boyfriend had gotten him last Christmas. This year I’ll do better, he reminded himself as he crammed his hands into his pockets and clutched the small tube of glass. He could feel its warmth, and it almost felt like it was shifting slightly in his grasp.

Thankfully, he didn’t have far to go to get to their shared flat: through the Old Town, across an icy bridge that spanned the frozen river, and down two flights to what had once been a wine cellar. There were no windows in the cavernous brick-lined space, but they’d both agreed that the unusual architecture made up for it. And in weather like this, being underground had its own advantages.

Once he was undressed and dry, the panther checked the big grandfather clock they’d inherited from Eugene’s parents. “Two hours left.” He looked over the big living space, making sure he hadn’t missed anything important.

The big viewscreen was set to Switzerland, showing high peaks and dainty chalets glittering beneath a starry clear sky, and the couple’s little tree twinkled a few feet in front of the ersatz window. The kitchen had been scrubbed after Theodore’s whirlwind baking session, and the cookies were laid out on their trays, frosted and ready to be devoured. The scents of pine and cinnamon and vanilla wafted through the high-arched space, and a handful of candles had been lit. The whole flat had a feeling of antique timelessness, snowbound peace, and romantic intimacy. “Perfect. Now for his present…”

Theodore ran his hands down his body, smoothing down his fur and pressing against his belly as though he were trying to quell the butterflies within. With a nod of finality, he fished the little bottle from the pocket of his trousers where they’d been hung up to dry, and carried it into the curtained-off bedroom. Sitting on the big quilt, he stared at the vial, so small and heavy on the pads of his hand

“Am I really going to do this?” He asked himself. It was the only thing he’d gotten Eugene for Christmas this year, and it was too late to get anything else, let alone wrap it. He’d be home any—

The sound of a key fumbling at the lock startled him, and he nearly dropped his precious purchase. Either the grandfather clock was running slow again, or the big Dutch Draft horse had gotten home early; either way, the panther had run out of time. Thumbing the cap off, he took a breath and then chugged the contents of the vial, sticking his tongue into its neck as far as he could, loath to waist a single drop.

“Teddy? I’m home…” the bass voice of the big grey drafter sang out uncertainly from the top of the stairs. A few steps down and he’d be able to see the candles, the cookies, the tree, and the distinct lack of panther. He’d clop down to the floor, walk into the bedroom, and there he’d see Theodore spread out on the bed as seductively as he could.

At least, that had been the idea. But the violet concoction had other ideas as it seared through the panther’s stomach. He tried to stifle a moan as he clutched at his gut, feeling his body shifting, burning—but Eugene had heard.

“Teddy? Is that you? Are you okay?” The curtain was pulled aside by a hand that was bigger than Theodore’s head, and the massive draft horse stepped through, eyes wide and nostrils flared with concern. Seeing his boyfriend contorted on the bed, he rushed forward and dropped to his knees. “What happened? Do we need to take you to the medic? And…what’s that smell…?”

The fire in his stomach had suddenly burned its way through, and was rapidly spreading out along his limbs like the fuses of Coronation Day fireworks. He belched, tasting rubber, as though a tiny race car had been doing donuts on his tongue. And in a twinkling, it was done. “I-I’m okay,” he managed to grunt.

“What did you do? I was so fucking worried, you ass.” Eugene said, throwing his arms around his boyfriend, and recoiling just as quickly. “Ugh, what is that? Are you using some kind of fur wax or something?” He held up his hoofy hands to the candle light, as though expecting them to be covered in the same slick goopyness that he’d felt when he touched the panther, but of course they were clean and dry.

Theodore lifted his own arm to the light, and gasped at the glossy black smoothness that apparently covered it. He reached out with the other hand, trying to brush up his fur, but it had been plastered flat, rubber-dipped. “It worked,” he mumbled with astonishment, “it really worked.”

“What worked?”

“Your…your Christmas present.”

The Dutch Draft horse stood, flicking the lights on. What he saw froze him stock-still, staring at the panther on the bed. Theodore looked down at himself as well, seeing what he’d felt: smoothed-out contours and flawless glossy black surface. He’d been rubberized.

“I wanted to give you something special for Christmas this year,” he said quietly, half afraid that the horse would reject him there and then. “I’m sorry I worried you, I didn’t want to be still changing, but you…you got home early.”

“Yeah, but why? Did you think I was into…this?”

“No, no, it’s…well,” he blushed, or would have had he not been uniformly black. “It’s your dick. I wanted to be able to take the whole thing. So I went to one of those apothecaries in Old Town to get something to make me…stretchier.

Surprising them both, the horse burst out with a nicker of laughter. “Really?

That’s…actually really sweet. And this is the part where I say: ‘But I got a potion too, to shrink my cock down so it’s super tiny so you could take the whole thing,’ right?”

“O. Henry much?” Theodore couldn’t help chuckling, then a thought gave him sudden pause. “Wait, you didn’t really—”

“Of course not,” the horse snorted. “Not since I know you like it so much.

No, you’ve just got regular-type presents from me.”

“Phew. So yeah, I asked to be stretchier, but I guess he didn’t quite understand…I don’t think it was supposed to make me completely rubber. Still…it’s worth a try, right?”

Eugene had already started shrugging off his coat. “A merry Christmas to me, eh?”

Once he was naked, they switched the lights off, leaving the bed bathed in romantic candlelight. The black panther’s smoothed-out hide gleamed like wet ink, the specular highlights from the flames dancing across his round belly and thick limbs; the horse ran his hands across his boyfriend’s altered form as though intent on touching every square inch.

“That feels so good,” Theodore rumbled breathlessly: it wasn’t almost like every part of him were erogenous—not quite as sensitive as dick or balls, but definitely somewhere between ears and nipples in the amount of pleasure he was getting from the brushing of fingers against his new skin. And speaking of dick, he glanced down, unsurprised to see that his shaft was the same smooth inky blackness as the rest of his body.

Then Eugene’s big head dropped down to engulf the panther’s crotch. He felt the grey draft horse’s tongue slurping all around his shaft, probing delicately into his now-stretchy sheath, expertly cupping each ball in turn, and finally sliding down between his thighs to lube up his hole. Only it seemed it was already lubed. He pulled back, extended tongue coating viscous black.

Theodore stared at it with a momentary flash of fear: had the potion somehow been faulty? Was he contagious? He watched as Eugene grabbed their clean-up rag and—with a grimace at the taste of dry cum and terrycloth

—scrubbed his tongue clean. The rag was probably stained for good, but Theodore sighed, relieved that his boyfriend was still flesh and blood.

“Well, that was interesting…guess I don’t need to get you ready.” The horse chuckled uncertainly. “You’ve already got lube enough for two (I hope that’s just lube you’re producing), and you felt as stretchy as a rubber band. Guess it’s time to unwrap my present.”

The panther rumbled as he felt Eugene’s hands gripping his legs, thumbs teasing his inner thighs, hoofy nails squirking against rubber flesh as he lifted him up, slid a pillow beneath his rump, and let him back down again. Theodore could tell he wasn’t in quite the right position, still a handspan too low, but from the expectant look on the horse’s blue-grey muzzle he could tell it probably wouldn’t matter.

A finger, then two, slid into him, meeting almost no resistance and coming back coated in the same black liquid latex, which Eugene spread around his burgeoning erection before nosing that against the panther’s hole. With a swiftness that surprised them both, the head popped in, along with the first three inches. “Fuuuck,” moaned the Dutch Draft horse, slack jawed and momentarily brain-dead with pleasure.

“Nnngh, why’d I wait this long to try something like this?” Theodore moaned in reply, feeling his hole gripping the nearly arm-sized horsecock with ease.

He wanted more.

And he got more. With a hesitant, increasingly-devious grin, Eugene slid more and more of his cock into his boyfriend. It was with a sense of awe that

Theodore felt the hefty balls pressing up against his rump, realizing that Eugene was now hilted, his whole length within the panther.

“You ok?” the horse grunted. Getting a quick, emphatic nod, he flexed his abs, pulling back and dragging the head of his shaft along the upper walls of Theodore’s insides, making the big cat squirm. The horse’s hands caressed Theodore’s body, feeling along his legs, around his belly, even teasing his cock and sliding beneath his balls to feel the taut ring as it slowly disgorged its invader.

And with every touch, it felt like Theodore’s body was on fire, sensitive the same way a dick is just before climax…but he felt no nearer to orgasm. Or, at least, nowhere near his climax; he had plenty to go before he was done. And Eugene had plenty to give him.

The slow pace quickly sped up as the horse realized that Teddy could take anything he could dish out. Tender hesitant gentleness gave way to unbridled rutting as the rubber cat’s insides seemed to pump out more of that liquid latex lube, coating his thick shaft as it pistoned into the welcoming hole. In a few minutes, the rhythmic slap-schlorp-slap-schlorp seemed to be tied to the ticking of the grandfather clock, only to surpass it shortly thereafter. Neither man had fucked like this: Eugene because he was normally so afraid of breaking whoever was speared on him, and Theodore because he’d always been so tight and sensitive.

Without warning, the draft horse’s big ass clenched, driving his hips forward in a quick jackhammer spasm, making the bed creak ominously beneath them. The head of his cock flared out, and Theodore groaned with that knowledge, feeling the little nubs surrounding the broad flat head rake along his insides, the shaft as hard and hot as new-forged iron quenching itself in his rubber hole.

“Oh…fuc—” was all Eugene could get out between gritted teeth as he hilted and froze, his quivering nostrils and fire hosing cock the only parts of him not seemingly turned to stone. Not that Theodore was in any place to notice: All he could think about was how he was been pumped full of horse, so much so that he didn’t even notice his own shaft exploding across his belly, a rainbow of gleaming black spattering along the plump—and filling—mound.

Eventually they both returned to reality. The horse’s cock finally limp, it slithered out of the panther’s ass with a wet slurrp, dripping a mixture of white and black onto the wood floor that neither man noticed or cared about. He flopped onto the bed next to his boyfriend, arms wrapped around the fat, rubber-cum-spangled belly. “That…was…the best…Christmas present,” he gasped, still catching his breath.

Theodore rumbled, feeling more like a nesting hen or pregnant cow with all the warmth sloshing around within him. “I’m…ohhhh…I’m glad you liked it. And it was the right color and size too!”

The horse brayed a drunken laugh at the other man’s corny joke, then paused, looking down at the fat panther gleaming in candlelight. His hands stroked over the cum-inflated belly, as his face took on a thoughtful air. “So, Teddy, how long is this supposed to last? Is it permanent?”

Theodore’s eyes went wide with realization, then he seemed to blush, his ears folding back and a sheepish grin suffusing his blunt muzzle and chubby cheeks. “You know, in all the excitement, I forgot to ask.”

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