Archive of Our Own

The familiar jingle of a door caught Richard’s ear, causing him to cock his head towards the front of the shop. “Be right there!” he shouted, scampering from the backroom.

Being the owner and sole employee of a shop wasn’t easy, nor was serving clients who tended to be much larger than himself, yet he absolutely loved his job. Taking care to ensure his customers were well served and adorned with the finest garments he could produce was richly rewarding, even if it was difficult at times - still, that wasn’t the only joy he took from his position. Trotting into the front of his shop, peering at the doorway, he slowed.

Standing just inside, lazily surveying the interior, was an absolute behemoth of a bull. Taller than the door, with a massive pair of horns atop his head, it was a wonder that the titan had been able to enter without damaging the door frame! Bedecked in a simple tank top and pair of shorts, with his beefy physique struggling against the simple garments, his eyes wandered over to the runtish tailor.

“Good afternoon, Sir,” Richard began, walking forward and stopping a few paces before his guest. “How may I help you this fine afternoon?”

He’d never been large by any stretch, standing just under three feet tall, although he’d never been bothered by his height - if anything, he relished being so small. His diminutive stature left him at eye level for a great many creatures, allowing him to casually ogle their endowment with casual ease - a habit he’d grown very fond of. Giving a small bow, surreptitiously glancing at his visitor’s loins, he fought back the urge to lick his lips.

A silent moment passed, then another, before he lifted his head and quirked his brow. “Sir?”

“Won’t expecting someone so small to be running a joint like this,” the bull huffed, peering down down at the otter. “Friend’a mine said you specialized in fitting larger guys.”

“That I do, Sir! Why, I just finished a fine ensemble for an elephant just last week!” Richard chirped, stepping forward and extending a hand. “I’m Richard,” he continued, watching the giant languidly lean forward. “And you would be?”

“Bruce,” the bovine intoned, completely covering the little mammal’s hand in his grip.

Grinning from ear to ear, giving the prospective client a small shake, Richard cautiously pulled his hand away. “And how can I help you, Bruce?”

Straightening to his full height, towering over the pint-sized proprietor, the bull crossed his massive arms over his broad chest. “Need a suit.”

“I see,” Richard hummed, rubbing his chin. “Well the first thing we’ll need to do is have you fitted - that is, if you don’t have your measurements.”

Seeing a puzzled look cross the giant’s face, his heart skipped a beat. While he couldn’t speak for other tailors, one of the favorite parts of his job was measuring his clients - especially tall, hulking, absolute studly clients. Considering his level of expertise, there was a darn good chance that he could guess his guest’s size without having to fetch his fabric measuring tape - then again, where was the fun in that?

Trotting past the bovine, he walked up a tiny set of stairs by the entrance, locked the door, and pulled the curtains over the inset window. Ordinarily speaking, he would have a client get changed and fitted in his changing room, although that wouldn’t work in this particular case. Bruce simply wouldn’t fit in one of the claustrophobic chambers, barely fitting in the shop itself - as such, he’d have to improvise.

“Bruce - may I call you Bruce? If it’s alright, I’m going to have to ask you to strip,” he tutted, proceeding back to his gargantuan guest.

The bovine cocked his head, impassively staring down at the pint-sized shopkeep. “Right here?”

Richard nodded, as he strolled to the front counter, grabbed up his measuring tape, and pulled one of his hand stools from behind the cash register. “I’m afraid so. If you’re in the market for a suit, it’s of the utmost importance that it fits you properly; for that to happen, I’ll need your exact dimensions.”

Pulling the collapsible piece of furniture behind himself, looking back to his visitor, his pulse quickened. With only the slightest bit of prompting, not having questioned the request to disrobe, Bruce hauled his tank top up and over his head. Seeing the stud’s full pecs, six-pack abs, and slate grey coat over rock-hard muscles on his torso, blood rushed to his cheeks.

Ever since he could remember, he’d had an uncontrollable weakness for huge, well-built guys - a weakness which was compounded by his short stature, effeminate figure, and petite endowment. For him, being small was a blessing from the heavens, magnifying the joy of worshiping and fawning over brawny beefcakes on and off the clock. Feeling his prick beginning to harden, his eyes shot to Bruce’s groin.

“The pants too?” the bovine asked.

“Y...yes, of course,” Richard stammered, nodding enthusiastically.

Without skipping a beat, the bull squirmed out of his shorts, dropped the garment to the floor, and revealed a jockstrap clinging to his gargantuan package. Looking like two cantaloupes and an arm stuffed into the elastic fabric, the elastic fabric clung to the stud’s equipment like a second skin. With his body nearly on full display, save for his barely covered loins, he turned his attention back to the tiny tailor.

“Like what ya see, little guy?” he smugly inquired, doubtlessly seeing the blush on the otter’s cheeks.

Unable to look away from the bovine’s equipment, Richard steadily nodded. “Y...yea - Ahem -” he coughed, only just remembering where he was and what he was supposed to do. “If you’d be so kind as to hold your arms out to your sides, I’ll have you measured in a jiffy.”

“ Hmmph ,” Bruce grunted, lifting his brawny arms. “Whatever you want, cutie.”

Seeing the bull spontaneously flex, Richard’s eyes went alight; blood rushed to the giant’s muscles, causing them to swell and ripple, while his own meager endowment strained against his pants. Stars above, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten the chance to be near someone so well built before, let alone touch them. Steeling himself, dragging his trusty stool behind his visitor, he climbed the helpful piece of equipment and got to work.

Bruce’s calves were easy enough to reach, but his bulky upper legs were a bit trickier. Even with the stool’s help, reaching around the trunk-like thighs was nearly impossible. Leaning against the stud, struggling to wrap the tape around the immense extremity, he frustratedly inhaled. As the bull’s scent flooded his sinuses, he nearly swooned.

There was no way the hunk had showered anytime soon, smelling of fresh sweat and exertion. Having wondered about the jockstrap, being a rather unique choice of undergarment, he was left to presume his visitor had just left the gym or a sporting event of some sort. Trying to distract himself from the ambrosial, earthy aroma, finally getting the fabric tape around the stud’s upper leg, he knit his brow.

“Been working out, have we?” he asked, hoping a bit of conversation would help him concentrate.

“Just a little, yeah,” Bruce chuckled, peeing over his shoulder at the couturier. “You think it’s bad there, wait until you go north a little.”

“North a little…” Richard trailed off, peeking up at the chiseled buns just above his head.

Having just finished measuring the stud’s legs, he climbed to the next rung, brought his face towards the man’s sculpted ass, and paused. Like two boulders, each glute as big as - no, bigger than his head! Drawing a breath through his nose, relishing the unimaginably masculine bouquet, he shakily lifted a hand, stopped himself, and glowered.

As much as he’d like to cop a feel, to run his fingers over his customer’s backside, he simply couldn’t do it. He had a reputation to uphold, and he was not about to cave to his lustful compulsions! Clenching and unclenching his fist, determined to get the beefcake’s waist measurement, he noticed the bull shift.

“You know,” Bruce began, reaching back and prizing his buns apart, “if you wanted to get a better look, I wouldn’t mind…”

Richard’s jaw flapped, his eyes locked onto the bull’s dark, winking pucker, and his mouth went dry. In all his long years of working in his shop, he’d never had a client be so remarkably forward and accommodating - at least, not so quickly! Glancing up to the bovine’s grinning face, seeing that the stud was serious, he slowly leaned forward and brought his muzzle into the dreamboat’s musky cleft.

As his nose grew closer and closer to the bull’s backdoor, the smell became overpowering - intoxicating even. Unbelievably balmy, like the distilled essence of hard work and masculinity, the fragrance dulled his thoughts and clouded his judgement. His hands flew upward, pawing at the beefy cheeks to either side of his face, as he opened his maw and extended his tongue.

Be darned if he’d planned on doing something so scandalous that evening, but he literally couldn’t help himself. Between the titan’s adonic figure, seductive scent, and the fact that he hadn’t gotten laid in ages , it was impossible for him to resist. As he drew his tongue up Bruce’s balls and taint, moving ever closer to the musky hole above him, the pair of glutes snapped shut around his head.

“That ought to - Mmmmn - keep you there,” the bovine snickered.

Vaguely aware that his visitor had said something, having heard what sounded like muffled laughter, Richard’s mind went blank. Inching as close as he could on his stool, practically plastering his body against the bull’s leg, he licked and lavished his guest’s backside like a common whore. The smell was unbelievable, but the taste - good Lord, the taste was overwhelming.

The strong, irresistible flavor of ass and sweat virtually coated his palate, adding to the olfactory assault. There was something magical about worshiping someone so much bigger and unimaginably stronger than him - something he’d grown to love ever since he was a teenager. His hips reflexively bucked, lightly tapping his tiny little dick against the stud’s leg, as he made out with Bruce’s rear.

He could never fully explain why, but he’d always had a soft spot for bigger, more muscular guys. It was a bit funny, given how small he was in comparison, yet he assumed that was part of the appeal. Compared to the hulking bull, he was little more than a toy, one which could be easily tossed around or manhandled with ease, which was one reason he adored being so small.

“Yeah,” Bruce purred, “really get in Daddy’s ass. Got a nice sweat going on from pumping iron - then again, I bet you love that.”

The encouragement didn’t fall on deaf ears, spurring Richard onward. Digging his fingers into the stud’s waist, he jammed his face forward. His world, his entire existence, became the brute’s behind. Blinded, yet relishing the sensation of the winking tail hole against his tongue, he wantonly humped Bruce’s thigh; it wasn’t like he’d wanted to act in such an unseemly way, but the big bastard was so remarkably hot and nonchalant about the affair that he simply couldn’t control himself.

Grinding his snout against the taut, satiny flesh, he made out with the stud’s tush. Regardless of where he was, if the chance presented itself, he would gleefully feast upon a grecian god’s ass - especially one as titanic as the horned beefcake who’d just walked through the door. Forcing himself deeper, quite literally burying his muzzle into the bovine’s rear, his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

Even if he was taller, he knew he’d never be able to resist hunks of Bruce’s caliber. Their grace, power, and sheer size was worthy of his veneration, and he’d be more than happy to fill the role he was destined for. Waiting until his lungs began to burn, unable to breathe in the slightest, he momentarily withdrew for a gulp of air - at least he tried to, before things took an unexpected and decidedly messy turn.

Without so much as touching himself, failing to realize just how much he was enjoying bucking against Bruce’s thigh, he spontaneously blew his load. Truth be told, there had been times where rimming someone had been enough to get him off, so he shouldn’t have been too surprised, yet he’d been so engrossed with ravishing the bull’s backside that he hadn’t known how close he was. Fighting through the pleasure, whimpering lightly, he jammed his face back where it belonged - right in his visitor’s divinely sculpted ass.

Snickering to himself, possibly aware that the tailor had just creamed his pants, Bruce gently waggled his tush from side to side. “Having fun back there?”

“ Mmmhmm ,” the diminutive otter enthusiastically groaned, smearing his face with a cocktail of saliva and sweat.

As far as he was concerned, would’ve been pleased as punch to spend the remainder of his afternoon, and a good chunk of the coming evening, tongue bathing his guest - unfortunately for him, Bruce had other plans. Stepping forward, removing his head from the heavenly derriere, the bull moved away, turned, and smirked down at him. Staring up in awe, spying the strike a pose, his knees buckled.

“If you like those glutes, you should see what they can do when I’m rutting someone,” Bruce whispered, flexing his immense pecs while thrusting his hips forward.

“I...I…” Richard sputtered, feeling as though his mouth was full of sand. “I m...may need to get the rest of your measurements.”

“You mean this ?” the bull hummed, openly fondling his swelling, barely restrained equipment. Seeing the tailor’s eyes widen, his smile broadened. “I’m not sure how comfortable I’d be with getting totally naked, but I might be more inclined if you strip for me…”

Leaping at the opportunity, Richard began unbuttoning his uniform. If seeing what the big lug had hidden under that jockstrap meant he’d have to show a bit of skin, so be it. Carefully disrobing his upper half, neatly folding his shirt and vest, he loosened his belt, unzipped his fly, and wriggled out of his slacks.

“Is this better, Sir?” he asked, sheepishly covering his comparably miniscule endowment.

Eyeing the couturier’s hips, the bull lazily lifted and spun a finger. “Give me a little spin. Oh, and call me Daddy .”

Hearing the small request, Richard’s heart fluttered in his chest. “Of course, Daddy .”

“Good boy,” Bruce haughtily murmured, beckoning the otter closer. “How about you come and get this pesky little jockstrap off.”

Richard nearly rushed forward, lifting his arms and reaching for the bovine’s waistband. As if he wasn’t already turned on enough, the Daddy talk really, really got his motor running. Hooking his fingers over the elastic, drawing the article downward, he unveiled one of the biggest packages he’d ever seen. Staring in open awe, he swallowed hard.

The stud’s cock wasn’t even fully erect, but it was thicker than his bicep and nearly as long as his arm. Covered in slate grey flesh, with an angry vein snaking along one side, the appendage was positively exquisite . Complemented by a pair of nearly softball sized nuts, the beefcake’s goods were everything he could have ever dreamt of.

“There’s that look,” Bruce snickered, drawing the tailor’s attention away from his junk. “Go ahead, boy , but remember to thank me.”

“ T...thank you, Daddy ,” Richard stammered.

With a shaking hand, he reverently drew his fingers down the gargantuan cock. The bull’s fuck-stick was so big that it couldn’t even fully stand - instead flopping downward while swelling in size. Despite having involuntarily creamed himself, he was so hard that it hurt . Inching closer, bringing his lips to the drooping head of cock-flesh, he kissed his guest’s tool.

The rimming had been impromptu but welcome star, getting him more than a little worked up, so the sight of such an immaculately huge dick was too much to bear. Suckling the tip, torquing his head from side to side, he worked the mammoth member into his muzzle. Be darned if he knew if or how he’d be able to manage properly sucking on the thing, since his jaw was already struggling, but he knew he had to try.

He couldn’t even wrap both hands around the colossal shaft, so throating the bull would be impossible - that being said, he had a few tricks up his sleeve. As he cradled one titanic ball in his palm, silently musing on just how productive his visitor was, his free hand drifted towards his loin. Momentarily jacking himself off, coating his digits with pre-cum and spunk, he reached behind himself.

Luckily for his client, he was a bit of a size queen. Hidden within his dresser were a number of rather large toys he’d collected over the years, including a handful modeled from bovine or equine porn stars, but none of them compared to what Bruce was packing. Drawing a breath through his nostrils, sinking two fingers into his backdoor, he peeked up at the stud’s face.

The arrogant look on the bull’s face was perfect , dousing the fires of his passion with fuel. Running his tongue around the broad, rounded glans, getting his first taste of salty pre-cum, he jammed a third and fourth digit into himself. Even if it would be impossible for him to get more than a few inches of dick in his muzzle, he wasn’t going to be satisfied until he’d rightfully earned his patron’s doubtlessly thick and virile spunk.

“Yeah, just like that,” Bruce affectionately muttered, caressing the top of the otter’s head.

Reluctantly pulling away, resting his cheek against the prodigious length, Richard pressed his snout to the stud’s musky sheath. “Daddy, you’re so big ,” he sighed, relishing the flavors dancing on his taste buds.

If he hadn’t known better, he could have sworn a log was resting on his shoulder. Assuming his guest was at full mast, the beastly dick would definitely rearrange his insides - that is, if he could manage to fit it inside himself. Lapping at the thick, musky folds at the base of Bruce’s tool, nearly drunk with lust, he continued loosening his hole.

Grabbing the base of his skull, Bruce gyrated his hips. Even though the brute was being gentle, he nearly lost his footing and had to quickly steady himself. Intended or not, the small assertion of dominance broke what little self control he had left. Nearly fisting himself, he rested his hand on the bovine’s leg, pushed himself away, and stepped back.

“Done already…” Bruce fell silent, as the otter faced away, bent over, and lifted his tail.

“ Daddy ,” Richard whined, pulling his buns apart, “I need it so bad !”

To heck with his pride - he was well past the point of professionality. If wantonly presenting himself like some wanton harlot meant he’d get some action, he’d be more than happy to debase himself. Swaying his rump from side to side, doing his level best to tempt the stud, he peeked over his shoulder at Bruce.

It wasn’t the first time he would have successfully seduced a client, yet that wasn’t any guarantee that he was going to have success with the giant. Leaning forward, pressing one hand to the floor, he tauntingly smacked his behind. Without knowing what his client’s tastes were, all he could do was hope that the bull was into small, fat-bottomed, and submissive guys.

Holding his breath, seeing Bruce leisurely start jacking himself off, he gnawed his lip. Though they were in his shop, well away from a bed or any fitting bit of furniture, he certainly wasn’t opposed to being railed out on the counter, a display case, or even against a wall. Lowering his tail, drawing the tip between the cheeks of his tush, he noticed the titan stir.

“Since you asked so nicely ,” Bruce began, taking a step forward, leaning down, and snatched the couturier around the waist, “I suppose I could give you what you want.”

Suddenly finding himself effortlessly lifted and carried towards the register, a giddiness settled over Richard. It had been ages since he’d gotten any real action, with the last time having been several months ago at the hands of a rather enthusiastic rottweiler, so the prospect of being plowed by the hulking stud exhilarating to a fault. As he was set down on the counter, on his back, he smiled innocently up at the stud.

“That’s too cute, acting like you don’t want it,” Bruce chuckled. Shuffling closer, laying his monumental cock against the tailor’s belly, he pursed his lips. “You think it’ll fit?”

Peering down his chest, seeing the tip of his guest’s length coming to rest just under his rib cage, his pucker hungrily winked. “T...there’s some lube under the cash register, Daddy,” he blurted, knowing good and full well that they’d need it.

Walking around the counter, blindly rummaging around beneath the checkout, Bruce giggled. “Shouldn’t be surprised that a hot little slut like you has some handy,” he coolly remarked, trotting back into position. Flipping the cap, squeezing the viscous fluid over the otter’s package and backdoor, he tossed the bottle over his shoulder, grinned, and jammed two of his impossibly thick fingers into the taut, immaculately presented hole.

Even though he’d nearly been fisting himself, the intrusion of the girthy digits made Richard’s eyes roll. “ Oh Daddy !”

“Good boy, loosen up for Daddy,” Bruce purred, working his fingers in and out his small host.

The sensation of being finger-fucked by the massive stud, paired with the dirty talk and the bull’s condescending smile was nearly enough to make Richard cum on the spot. Writhing in place, whimpering and begging for more, his prick oozed precum like a faucet. The guy definitely knew what he was doing, working his prostate with practiced precision, and it got him all the more excited for the main event.

Minutes passed, with Bruce managing to squeeze a third digit into the tailor, before he eventually withdrew his slickened fingers. Placing his hands on the tiny mammal’s ass, he spread the designer’s hole. “Hot damn, that looks good enough to eat - then again, I think we both know what you’re wanting,” he mused, striking a pose and flexing yet again.

Seizing hold of his knees, Richard lifted and splayed his legs. “ Daddy , I need it…”

“I know, Boy, I know,” the bovine grunted, shaking his head in amusement. Taking a small step back, while holding the base of his tool, he prodded the couturier’s relaxed pucker. “I hope you’re ready…”

Unable to look away, feeling the ridiculously broad head of cock bearing against his ass, Richard did his best to stay relaxed. The fit would be difficult enough as it was, so the last thing he needed to do was tense up. As the pressure gradually mounted, causing him to wince, a moment of doubt flitted through his mind - that was, before his colossal customer finally sank into him.

He gasped at the immense intrusion, fully unprepared for the event. He knew it would be intense, that there may be some discomfort, yet he couldn’t have fathomed how intense it truly was. In comparison, even his biggest toys felt small compared to the bovine’s godly dick! Taking deep breaths, fixating on his lover’s reassuring smile, he released his legs and reached for his groin.

“ Ah ah ,” Bruce tutted, grabbing the otter’s wrists, “no touching. If I’m gonna fuck you, Boy , you’re going to be bred like the bitch you are.”

Falling silent, the stud shifted the angle of his plunge; though the change was small, it caused his member to grind over his host’s tender prostate. Hearing the tailor’s moans, refusing his host the ability to paw himself off, he laughed - not a cruel laugh, but one of approval. Lightly pumping his hips, incrementally working himself deeper and deeper, he made steady progress.

Squirming, unable to freely move, Richard’s eyelids fluttered. He’d been with a few dominant guys before, but this was the first time he’d been denied from touching himself! Envisioning his insides contorting around the immense dick, as it wormed into him, he looked down at his belly. To his abject amazement, working its way up his abdomen, the imprint of Bruce’s tool appeared.

He’d seen porn where folks had taken something so big that it made their stomach bulge out, yet he’d never been lucky enough to experience it himself. Resistance waned, as he watched the bull’s dick inch its way up his torso. In an all too real way, his massive visitor was opening him up, coating his insides with a mixture of lube and precum, and the anticipation of getting a proper fucking was equally terrifying and exhilarating. 

“Almost - Mmmm - there, boy,” Bruce grunted, nearly hilted.

With the bovine’s glans coming to rest beneath his sternum, nearly tickling his lungs, Richard extended his legs, rested his ankles on Bruce’s hips, and gave a little kick of encouragement. He’d made it this far, accommodating nearly all of the stud’s dick, yet that was only the first step. Regardless of if he passed out from the experience, he wanted - no, needed to feel the big bastard’s full carnal might.

“ Daddy ,” he moaned, tightening his stuffed hole, “you’re so big .”

Withdrawing nearly half of his length, Bruce braced his legs. “I know, Babe, but I know you won’t let me down.”

The sensation of emptiness, seeing the imprint within his gut disappear, lasted a fleeting moment, before the bull started fucking. Slow at first, but gradually gaining speed, the beefcake pounded into him with unstoppable force. The air was forced from his lungs with each thrust, causing him to rhythmically moan, yet the feeling of being plowed by such a divine creature - that was beyond words.

Like a slice of heaven made flesh, Bruce was everything he could have ever wished for in a man. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve such a blessing, but he thanked his lucky stars that fate had brought the stud to his shop. Tall, impossibly strong, and nonchalantly domineering, his massive mate was a walking wet dream - a walking wet dream that was pounding him like a stallion in rut.

In one of the rare moments in his life, he wasn’t sure where to look - at the bull’s adonic face and pecs or the bulge appearing and disappearing in his tummy. Ordinarily speaking, he would have much rather viewed himself becoming a cock-sleeve - that being said, the simple joy of admiring the sculpted body above him was too good to pass up. Given how many dirty magazines he had, almost all of which involved muscular hunks, he couldn’t help himself

In the end, he settled on alternating, watching Bruce’s angelic visage while slipping glances to his stomach.  As he slowly acclimated to the deep-dicking, acting on instinct, he began moving in tune with his guest. 

“There ya go…” Bruce whispered, increasing his pace.

Able to do little more than to look at his wildly bouncing prick, smearing and drooling pre-cum over his stomach, Richard felt himself the telltale signs of release welling up within him. The illusive and legendary hands-free climax was something he’d never been fortunate enough to experience, but something told him he might just get his chance with Bruce. Bucking his hips and arching his back, he repositioned himself to have his defenseless prostate absolutely demolished .

Sensing Richard’s thirst, or perhaps just asserting himself, Bruce slipped a hand under the tailor’s back, secured his grip, and ruthlessly began stroking himself off with his pint-sized partner. He was easily large and strong enough to pull off the maneuver, holding and using the couturier like an onahole, allowing him to fuck even harder than he had been before. As he pulled out all the stops, filling the air with a combination of lewd slapping noises, heavy grunts, and effeminate whimpers, his shaft throbbed madly.

Sensing the bull’s pistoning shaft throbbing, teetering on the brink himself, Richard clenched his battered pucker. He was so close, so very close to cumming that he thought he thought he may go insane. Desperate, wildly humping and gyrating his hips, he yearned to be filled.

“ Daddy , please ,” he wailed, quivering from head to toe, “ breed me !!!”

In the blink of an eye, spurred by his plea, Bruce shifted gears. Grabbing his ankles, and wrenching his legs to either side of his head, the bull put him in a mating press. The added pressure and intensity would have been enough to push him over the edge, but the sensation of scalding hot seed erupting in his ass undid him instantaneously. 

Howling out, painting his swelling belly with his pitifully small load, his vision tunneled. He’d had more orgasms than he could count, yet this was an order of magnitude greater than any he’d experienced before. His limbs went slack, his mouth hung open in a silent scream, and a maelstrom of bliss overtook him.

Though he was only dimly aware of it, he could feel his stomach ballooning outward. Either the bull was either extremely pent up or he was unbelievably productive - either way, a tsunami of seed rushed into him. With his abdomen distending larger and larger, he struggled to remain conscious.

“Damn,” Bruce sighed, releasing his lover’s legs and straightening up, “looks like I did a number on you - then again, you did ask for it.”

Panting, barely able to keep his eyes open, Richard languidly nodded. Exhausted, sore, and unsure if or when he’d be able to talk, his eyes dreamily wandered over the stud’s chiseled frame. Despite having been ruined, and having doubtlessly made quite a mess, he didn’t have a shred of regret.

Furrowing his brow, Bruce glanced around the shop. “You don’t happen to have a shower here, do you?”

“In - Cough - in the back, Daddy,” Richard croaked, shakily pointing at a doorway behind the counter.

“Come on, Boy, let’s get cleaned up,” the bull hummed. Unsheathing his length, and creating a small waterfall of spunk in the process, he gently lifted and cradled the tailor to his chest.

With a deep, satisfied sigh, Richard pressed his face to the bull’s pecs. He would have never guessed he’d end up being plowed that evening, let alone by such a stud , yet he was not about to complain. Silently wondering if a discount could convince his client for a bit more action, with his gaping tail hole leaking jizz, he hoped it wouldn’t be the last time he got to see the titanic customer…