By popular demand, we return to the Hirschkoff household in Stillwater Cove. Six years have passed in the lives of the four stags. Dieter and Kristian are all grown up. Gerald has moved out of Bruno’s house, and is renting a tiny studio apartment just a few doors down from the Cog & Cup, in Stillwater’s Old Quarter. Bruno, now in his mid-40s, still works every day in his workshop in the Artisan District, although his bread and butter these days is pottery - a lot less physically taxing than carpentry. After finishing school, Dieter went to work with Bruno, and is learning his craft. Meanwhile, given the... closeness between Kristian and Gerald, Kris’ path seems to have diverged from his twin’s, somewhat...

*

“Dad?” 

Kristian’s gentle, effeminate voice, usually so confident, seemed shaky and uncertain, and Bruno took notice. 

“What’s up, kiddo?”

“Dad... I got a job.”

Bruno swivelled on his office chair and rose to his hooves to face his adopted son, giving the eighteen-year old stag a warm smile. 

“That’s great! Good for you! Don’t worry about the workshop, Dieter and I can handle it. You should be proud!”

“Dad, it’s not that...”

“Oh?” Bruno’s smile dropped, and he tilted his massively antlered head slightly. “What’s eating you, then?”

“I... Dad... I’m gay.”

Bruno blinked a few times, made momentary eye contact with Kris as the younger stag’s eyes flicked up briefly to his own, and then burst into peals of laughter. 

“No kidding? You? Gay? Who’d have ever guessed that? I’ve known you your whole life, remember?”

“Dad! This is serious, I... wasn’t entirely sure, until now.”

“Heck, I was pretty sure even before your balls dropped, Kris,” Bruno teased, stepping forward and engulfing his son in a reassuring bear hug. “But that’s great, I’m proud of you and you know I’ll always love you unconditionally, right? But what’s this got to do with your job?”

Kristian tensed, but then melted into the hug, pressing his muzzle to his father’s chest and subtly inhaling his comforting scent - machine oil, sawdust, and the inevitable undertone of male deer.

“I’m not sure you’re gonna approve of it,” Kris mumbled.

“Try me.”

Another lengthy pause, and then a deep breath. This was what he’d steeled himself for, one way or another.

“I’m... a dancer. At the Boys’ Club.” 

Bruno’s mouth opened and closed several times, as his brain struggled to process that for a moment. Kristian’s ears drooped, and he pulled away from Bruno. 

“It’s okay Dad, I didn’t think you’d like it,” he mumbled. 

“Oh Kris, it’s alright - it’s not that. I’m just... surprised, that’s all. I... what... kind of dancer?”

The Boys’ Club was the hub of Stillwater Cove’s gay scene, and was surrounded by similar establishments catering to a variety of sexualities, interests and preferences, niche and otherwise. Bruno knew that, and Kristian knew he knew. He fixed his father with a stare, and the corners of his lips tweaked into a soft smile at Bruno’s discomfort. 

“What kind of dancer do you think I am, that I started this conversation by coming out to you?”

Bruno cleared his throat, and raised an eyebrow. “Fair enough, that was a dumb question. I only meant uh... is the job focused on... private entertainment? Or are you mostly on stage and stuff?”

“Why don’t you come along one night and find out?”

Bruno gawped. Kris rolled his eyes. 

“Oh come on, I wouldn’t invite my own dad to see me perform if it was that raunchy! Seriously, it’s fine. It’s just an on-stage routine - I’m a support dancer for the drag show. Barely anyone even notices we’re there, all eyes are on the kings and queens.”

Bruno harrumphed. “Well... good, I suppose. Yeah, good. Not that I want you to think I wouldn’t approve if it was more risqué than that, but uh... fuck, I was not prepared for that!”

“No kidding.”

*

After the upbringing Bruno had provided for the twins, one which placed enormous value on openness and honesty, Kris was privately just a little bit proud of himself for having found something that made the older buck visibly uncomfortable. And he knew that would be a button he’d push often. Becoming a dancer was hardly out of the blue, though. 

Kris had become close with his biological father, Bruno’s younger brother Gerald, when he was barely twelve years old. Gerald had simply shown up on Bruno’s doorstep one afternoon, destitute and desperate, and had stayed a part of their lives ever since. Gerald had himself been a dancer, an actor and a model, although his dubious moral boundaries had seen that career cut abruptly short. But it was forever to be a part of him, and in the years hence, Gerald had taught both Dieter and Kristian much of what he’d learned about the performing arts. Dieter enjoyed some aspects of it, but Kris was a natural. He’d grown into a lean, classically handsome and more than slightly effeminate young stag - as had Dieter - and had a certain grace of movement and effortless coordination that made him a natural performer. 

When Kris had been twelve, only a few months after Gerald had turned up, Bruno found out that they’d been jerking off together at the very least. As it turned out it had been little more than that - a heady mix of curiosity, hormones and circumstance, and had not developed into anything of greater concern. So Bruno had let it run its course, rather than turning it into a taboo that would have invariably continued without his knowledge. Kristian had spent countless days with Gerald after he’d found a job and moved out of Bruno’s house. Bruno had initially been deeply worried about that, but had confronted Gerald and Kristian separately about the amount of time they spent together at Gerald’s apartment, and had been heartened to discover that after the initial excitement of their closeness, they simply had a strong bond, a familial friendship much the same as Bruno himself shared with Dieter. It was marked by the same sort of openness Bruno valued in his relationship with the boys. More so, Kristian’s and Gerald’s personalities matched, and that seemed to be an end to it. 

Dieter and Kristian had both always been very sexually honest and open both with each other, and with Bruno and Gerald - that was something Bruno had nurtured in them, knowing himself what it was like to harbour secrets and grow up in a family where any discussion or topic even remotely sexual was immediately demonised. Aside from the occasional hitch, he was proud that he’d managed to raise two boys for whom sex and sexuality was as natural a topic of discussion as any other - there were no taboos in the Hirschkoff house, and it showed.

*

Kristian kept prodding for Bruno to come and watch him at the Boys’ Club for the rest of that day - and for the remainder of the week. Bruno deflected, dodged, made excuses, seemingly anything he could think of to not come along.

“Come on, Dad... you gotta see it at least once. It’ll be fun. We don’t get to hang out much, not in my world anyway.”

“I don’t know, Kris. I’m forty fucking four, I’d be like everyone’s Grampa in a place like that!”

“Lotta guys are well into older men, you know,” Kris smirked, sipping his tea. 

“Why not invite Uncle Gerry as well?”

“Then everyone in the place would think you two were together, and that would be even weirder for you.”

That drew a laugh from Bruno. “Ah, I can just see it now. Me in leather pants with a riding crop, your uncle being dragged along behind me by a leash connected to his gimp harness...”

Kris snorted, and choked on his tea. “Oh DAD. Fucking hell!”

“You gotta admit, Gerry’d look pretty good in a harness. And a muzzle. Blindfolded. Hands tied. Unable to do anything but trust my inputs to keep him safe.”

“You filthy kinkster! I wouldn’t have pegged you as b... fuck, that was the worst word I could’ve picked!” Kris groaned and slapped a hand over his eyes.

Bruno roared with laughter. “Hey, I’m a top, ain’t no one peggin’ nothin’ of mine!”

“Careful with your double... uh... triple negatives there, Dad... Someone’s liable to take advantage of you if you start wheeling those out at the club!”

“Let em try, I’ll bore the boners out of them with old-man talk about the regional economy and the price of milk!”

“So does this mean you’re going to come? To the club?”

“Nice save, kid. I... let me think about it.”

Kris sighed. That was the best result he’d had yet, in that it hadn’t finished with a categorical ‘no.’

*

Two days later, Bruno finally relented. It was a Thursday, and the main event of the week was the Friday night drag show, which Kris was performing in. Kristian had squealed with excitement and leapt into Bruno’s arms when he’d finally accepted, to the shock of the older buck. 

“Hey hey, careful, you’ll bowl me over!” he joked, patting Kristian’s back. “What should I wear? And what time do I arrive? And should I... leave by a particular time?”

“Oh, you’ve been doing some research, haven’t you?”

“A little.”

“Well... the ‘adults only’ shows - as if it’s ever kid-friendly - start at eleven. Main event kicks off at nine. Why don’t you come at seven or seven thirty, so we can have a drink before I have to be backstage?”

“Deal. And what am I wearing?”

“Assless chaps, a mesh vest and overalls? Something that’ll catch the UV lights,” Kris joked, smirking up at Bruno and wiggling his eyebrows. 

Bruno glowered. 

“What, do gay people have a uniform now? Shit, just come as you are, Dad! Don’t dress up on my account. Most of the clientele at the Boys Club are really spectacularly un-fabulous.”

*

At five in the afternoon the following day, Kristian left the house. Bruno was still at the workshop with Dieter, so he locked the door as he exited and tucked his key into a hidden pouch inside his backpack. He was dressed in his usual clothes; close-fitting jeans, a wide-necked polo designed to be donned over his antlers, and a zip-up cardigan. In his backpack was his stage outfit - Kris was hardly shy, but his on-stage attire left very little to the imagination and pushed the boundaries of what would be acceptable in public. 

It was only a fifteen minute walk to the Boys Club, which was situated in Stillwater’s nightlife hotspot, such as it was, a couple of minutes south of the docks in one of the newest parts of town. 

‘Newest’ was a relative term. 

As he walked, Kris noted the character of the town changing, from quaint seaside village, through ancient cobbled streets lined with centuries-old row-houses and shops, and then to all the seedy appeal of a ‘70s strip-mall as he approached his destination. 

Gerald had gone with Kris to his audition and interview for the position, and afterwards had commented about how much this place reminded him of the back-alleys of Frawic. To Gerald, there was a grain of nostalgia about it. He’d seemed at home in the asphalt and grime, leaning on the wall out the back of the Boys Club in his leather jacket as though he owned the place.

Kris hurried across the New Port Road, the only truly busy road in Stillwater, and onward to his destination a couple of blocks further south. The club wasn’t open yet, so he walked around the back and tapped his access code into the keypad alongside the grimy staff door. The door clicked, and groaned open to admit him. 

Inside, the Boys Club was a whole different story. It was colourful and welcoming, and an army of front-of-house staff were already hard at work scrubbing the place and stocking up for the night to come. Lighting technicians argued about boom placements, and the owner of the club gave Kris a wave as he walked through to the backstage area. 

“Hey Kristian!”

The buck’s head snapped around, and he skidded to a halt. Backtracking, he poked his head around the door of the dressing room he’d just passed. It was Augustine, a very pretty, pure white equine who was the Boys’ Club’s resident drag icon, and the star of that night’s show. 

“Come in darling, would you?”

Kris paused, and stepped into Augustine’s room. He was already mostly dressed for his show, although it didn’t begin for another three hours. It would take him that long to finish his makeup and rehearse. But there he was in a glittering sequinned bodysuit, a rainbow unicorn horn plastered to his forehead.

“Looking good, Aug,” Kris mumbled, a little awkwardly. 

“Thank you sweetie! Listen, Ashley has called in sick tonight, so I’ll need you to fill his position at number three, is that alright?”

“Position three? That’s... on your right flank, isn’t it? I’d... I’d be leading three dancers?”

“Yes!”

“I’m brand new here though, I wouldn’t know how!”

Augustine rolled his eyes and stood, and backed up to Kristian. “Here, tighten those straps for me, would you? Don’t be gentle, PULL!”

The unicorn grunted effeminately as Kris did as he was told, and then turned to face the young stag. “Don’t be so modest, Kristian. I’ve seen what you can do when you have the stage to yourself, or when you’re the star later on in the night...” Augustine’s eyes wandered hungrily down Kristian’s body. “I have every faith that you’ll... rise to this challenge!”

With a laugh, he sat back down again, and winced at the tightness of his corset. Kris flushed hotly. The ‘adults only’ show that began at eleven was, in truth, the reason he was here. That was the type of dancing Gerald had taught him, and playing support to the drag shows was mostly a supplement. And it was true, he knew he got a bit carried away once the music got really dirty and the lights went out on the crowd, as if to hide their sticky indiscretions in the darkness. 

“If you say so, Aug... I should go start getting ready though, alright?”

“Oh don’t be silly darling, just change right here with me. Nothing I haven’t almost seen already...” Aug giggled, flicking his mane to glance sultrily over his shoulder at Kris. “Besides, your usual communal dressing room hasn’t been cleaned yet, it’s still rotten from last night.”

A little ripple of excitement ran down Kristian’s spine, and he shrugged off his backpack, and then his cardigan. Augustine pretended for a brief time not to be paying too much attention to the young stag, but when Kris unbuttoned and pulled off his polo, the unicorn’s chair swivelled around, and Aug leaned forward to watch, his painted lips tweaking into a smile. 

Kristian’s lean frame couldn’t have been much further removed from Bruno’s - indeed he took far more from his biological father than his adopted. Lean shoulders, a smooth chest, narrow waist and just the slightest hint of curvaceousness around his hips. 

“Gods, do I love a nubile little twink like you,” Aug murmured, his eyes drinking in Kristian’s body. 

Kris raised an eyebrow, and flattened his ears slightly as his fingers worked at his belt, and then his button and fly. 

“Turn around, give a girl a show!” Aug commanded, clapping his hands. 

“Oh for...”

Kris, for all his typical lack of shyness, couldn’t remember ever being objectified to quite such an extent. But Augustine was a good sort, an absolute riot and, in spite of their recent meeting, someone Kristian respected and trusted. So he pirouetted on one hoof, coming to rest straight-legged, hooves apart, back straight, with his arms extended. Good excuse to rehearse a move or two, he figured. 

Rolling his hips, the stag put on his best sultry smirk and spun around again to an imaginary beat, and began a routine of moves that within a minute had Augustine staring, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. 

“Where the fuck did you learn to do that?!” Aug said, the queen’s voice high and breaking. 

Kris grinned, and relaxed. “Oh, just a little something my uncle taught me.”

“Your uncle?! Good gods, you just keep getting spicier! Tell me more...”

Kris turned his back once again, and stifled a chuckle at the noise Aug made as he slid his jeans down his thighs, bending at the hips to lift one hoof, then the other out of them and leaving him only in a jockstrap. He flipped his tail up, just to be a tease, and then stood back up and turned to face Aug. 

“Well... my uncle and I are... close. Have been for a while. He was an actor up in Frawic, did a lot of this kind of stuff early in his career. It’s a good safety net, he says, if the more respectable roles dry up...”

Aug’s gaze seemed not to know where to fall. It kept moving, darting from Kristian’s jockstrap pouch to his chest, to his face, and back down again. It was painfully obvious how badly the equine wanted him. 

“What was that sweetie? Sorry, I was distracted. Repeat!”

Kristian sighed, and rolled his eyes. His thumbs hooked into the waistband of his jockstrap, and he shucked the flimsy garment down. it fell to his hooves, and he kicked it aside carelessly. Augustine squealed. That was, at least, one part of Kristian that seemed on track to rival Bruno. He was very well hung for a buck of his size. 

“Oh fuck me...” Aug whimpered. 

“What, now? But you only just got dressed!” Kris teased. 

“You little shit! N-no, I... Kris! Get dressed, would you? I can’t get hard in this fucking outfit, it’ll undo all the tucking and strapping I did earlier! Put it away!”

Kris laughed. “Hey, you wanted to see it, didn’t you?” The buck casually lifted his dick, just hefting it in his right hand before letting it drop, a little plumper than it had been a moment ago. 

“Alriiiiight! Yes I did! But if you don’t put your fucking shorts on soon you’re gonna have to fuck me, and help me re-strap everything! I might be a queen but I’m also a stallion, that’ll be no easy task!”

Kris smirked, but took Aug’s advice at last. Bending over to rummage through his backpack for an unnecessarily long time, he finally produced his ‘uniform’ for the stage show. A pair of tiny, sparkly, silver Lycra booty shorts so small that even his jockstrap would’ve shown above them. Stepping into them, Kris carefully manoeuvred them up to his hips, and took a minute to stuff himself into the tiny pouch. The Lycra was so sheer that even through the sparkles, the outline of the buck’s glans was clearly visible through them. 

“Hmm... should I dress down? Or up?” He asked Aug, pushing his hips out toward the queen and cupping his bulge. 

Augustine whinnied, and flapped his hands in Kristian’s direction. And then turned to face him, once he’d collected himself a little. With a smirk up at the stag, he fixed his gaze on Kristian’s pouch, and thought. 

“Hmm. How about you dress left for me, darling? Give everyone a bit of extra pizzazz...”

Kris slid his hand down the front of his booty shorts, and flipped his cock to his left. It swelled, filling out to a semi from Aug’s close attention, and he flexed it. His helmet was painfully obvious, and he could feel Augustine’s breath as it shuddered past the queen’s lips. 

“Oh gods yes. Fuck. Go, get out of here, I’m gonna get hard and you’ll regret that!” Aug snapped, turning his back and taking some deep breaths. 

Kris laughed, and packed his clothes into his backpack before exiting Aug’s dressing room and heading for the communal one two doors down. A few of the other support dancers were there by that stage, and more than one pair of eyes fixed onto Kris as he entered already dressed - or partially so - clearly having come from Augustine’s room. 

“What did he make you do?” Asked Sammael, a stag roughly his own age and build from the other side of town. 

“Me? Oh nothing! Fuck, it’s not what it looks like,” Kris replied with a laugh, glancing over at Sam, who was standing there stark naked. “He said this dressing room was still dirty from last night though...”

“Yeah he would say that, wouldn’t he? Dirty old perv, he just wanted to see the goods,” Sam giggled, rolling his eyes good naturedly. “He’s not the type to push the boundaries, but he does love a good perv.”

“I noticed,” Kris replied, stuffing his backpack into a cupboard, and then reaching into it to find the remainder of his stage outfit. 

Aside from the sparkly shorts, which all six of Aug’s support dancers wore, their uniforms consisted of starched shirt cuffs, collars and bow ties in colours that displayed each of their sexual orientations. Kristian’s and Sam’s were the traditional rainbow flag, while most of the other dancers’ were pink, blue and purple. Since Kris was still relatively new to this establishment and the youngest of them, most of their dressing room antics were somewhat reserved still, although Sammael informed him that it was unlikely to stay that way - and once Kris became more confident and comfortable and part of the troupe, he had a fair bit to look forward to. 

*

“I’m going to be out tonight, Deets; you alright to look after dinner for yourself?” Bruno said, washing clay out of the fur on his arms in the trough at the back of the workshop. 

Dieter looked up, ears perked, as he finished packing their day’s production of earthenware into boxes for shipment. “Oh? Going where?”

Dieter and Kristian, as similar as they’d been as fawns, had grown up to be quite different. Kristian was very extroverted and ‘out there,’ while Dieter had followed Bruno far more closely, and was somewhat quieter, more stoic and reserved - although only outwardly so. 

“Going to see Kris at his new job.”

Dieter’s silence and the penetrating stare he fixed his father with told Bruno all he needed to know - that Dieter was well aware of Kris’ new occupation. 

“What?” Bruno prompted, with a shadow of a smile. 

“He... you know what he does, right?”

“Yeah, he clued me in.”

“To all of it?”

“How do you mean? He’s a support dancer in the drag show at the Boys Club, what more is there?”

Dieter took a deep breath, and shrugged. “I don’t know. Nothing bad, I guess, if he wanted you to come see it!”

“Oh come on, you act as if I’m going to be shocked by what I find,” Bruno chuckled. “It’s not like he’s selling lap dances. Not that I’d be worried if he was, as long as he’s happy.”

“Dad, have you seen the Heat shows at the Boys Club?” Dieter persisted. “Look them up. It’s a little more than a support gig. Just so you’re aware in advance.”

Bruno snorted, and dried his arms on an old towel. The two of them, father and son, worked their way around the workshop, closing it down for the weekend, and then left to cycle back into Stillwater together. 

Once they’d coasted to the bottom of the hill upon which the Artisan District was built, Dieter dinged his bell to get Bruno’s attention. 

“I might call in on Uncle Gerry, see if he wants to get dinner with me.”

“Sure thing Deets! Have fun, I’ll see you in the morning.”

With that Bruno cycled off ahead, waving to his son as their paths diverged. 

Once he arrived home, Bruno tied up his bicycle and stepped inside. He’d been needing a piss since the moment he left the workshop, and he hobbled hurriedly into the downstairs bathroom. Dancing from hoof to hoof as he fumbled with his apron strings, belt, fly, button, boxers, Bruno only just freed himself in time, and let out a sigh of relief as he pissed noisily with his hands on his hips, glancing down occasionally to make sure his aim was true and he wasn’t making a mess. 

That done, he wandered upstairs to change and clean up, and a little over half an hour later was heading out the door again, this time cycling south along the coast.

*

Bruno walked into the Boys’ Club on the dot of seven thirty, to a room already rapidly filling with a mostly ungulate audience. The acrid stink of piss, beer and musk filled the air like a miasma, although not a particularly repulsive one. This was obviously a very male-oriented environment, although as he glanced around the dim space, Bruno saw that the clientele was extremely diverse, both in gender and age. He immediately felt less like someone who would stand out in such a crowd, even as modestly dressed as he was - he just couldn’t find his assless chaps, no matter how hard he looked!

Bruno’s eyebrows raised in surprise when he caught sight of Kristian approaching him - the kid’s getup was something else! Tiny, tiny sparkly booty shorts that left nothing to the imagination, a little rainbow bow tie, and white collar and cuffs - Bruno wrapped a welcoming arm around his son as Kris came within hugging distance, and laughed. 

“Wow, you really look the part,” he commented with a smirk. 

Kris’ ears flattened, and he squirmed up onto a bar stool alongside his father. “Hah! Yeah... I... all the dancers are similarly dressed, it’s not only me! Look, there’s Sam, and Avery, and Winnie...” Kris gestured around the club, towards the half dozen others who wore the same shorts as he did. 

“Nice! I have to say I’m surprised, pleasantly so. It’s good to see you obviously so comfortable.”

“Well it’s hardly a job that lends itself to shyness, Dad!”

“No kidding! Want a drink?”

“Sure. Margarita?”

“Could you be any gayer?” Bruno laughed, pulling his son in for another hug and kissing his forehead. Then, to the bartender; “Pint of stout and a margarita!”

“Hellooooo, Kristian! Who’s this?” Came an extremely effeminate voice from behind the two bucks, after a minute or two.

Kris swivelled one way, Bruno the other, and the pair of them came face to face with Sammael, Kristian’s mirror dancer. 

“Oh! Uh... Dad, this is Sam... Sam, this is Bruno, my dad,” Kris replied. 

Sam’s eyes widened, and he looked back and forth between Bruno and Kristian for a minute. “I... your dad?! You invited your father here?”

“Sure did! Took me a while to convince him to come, but here he is!”

“Well I... I’m very impressed, Mr Bruno! Not many of us would dare show our families what we do, you’re clearly the open-minded sort!” Sam said. 

“Nice to meet you, Sam,” said Bruno, trying his best to not stare at anything too inappropriate. “We’re a very open and accepting family. No secrets, no taboos, and as long as we’re all happy, that’s the main thing right?”

“Oh I like him. Can I keep him?” Sam said, liltingly, to Kris. 

“Hey you wouldn’t be the first extra kid he’s adopted,” Kris chuckled.

Bruno just smirked, and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Well, I hope you enjoy the show, Mr Bruno! Good to meet you, I’ll let you two finish your drinks. Kris, we’ll need to be backstage in about twenty minutes, okay?” Sam said, tentatively patting Bruno’s knee before prancing away.

“You alright, Dad?” Kris said after a moment of shared silence, during which Bruno had drained most of his beer. 

“Oh yeah, I’m good. I just - I haven’t really ever been exposed to the gay scene, I’m just a little surprised by how...”

“Extra?”

“...yeah. By how extra it is.”

“I getcha. I’m easily the least ‘extra’ of the dancers I know here, until I get on stage,” Kristian chuckled. 

“Oh? What happens then?” Bruno grinned. 

“We’re all equally extra up there, Dad - although for a couple of them, that means they tone it down to be up there!”

Bruno chuckled, and glanced around the club again.

“Oh hey, I should start making my way backstage. Um...Dad?”

“Mm?”

“Would you mind uh... shadowing me in the bathroom? Some of the clients can get a little gropey in there and you’re big and intimidating. Might keep them off me.”

Bruno frowned. “Isn’t there security?”

“Well yes, but they don’t start until nine, and I suspect at least one of them spends his whole shift at the glory hole anyway.”

“Fucking hell Kris... Alright, lead on. I could use a leak anyway.”

The bathroom at the Boys’ Club was gender neutral, as one might expect, and necessarily vast to cater to the variety of needs the clientele presented. The cubicles, Kris explained, were there more for anonymity than anything else, and steered Bruno away from them towards a trough urinal against the opposite wall. Inexplicably, there were several steel chairs scattered around in front of it, and the pungent odour told Bruno that not everyone used these facilities for what they were meant for. 

Kristian weaved his way between the dozen or so people moving about this space, to a relatively out of the way spot at the far end of the trough. Bruno stepped up alongside him, a couple of feet away, and unzipped. Kris flipped down his waistband, holding it down with his thumb. Almost immediately, before his stream had even begun, a very obviously eager young oryx pranced up between them, squeezing his way in. He was bottomless, very hard, very drunk, and very handsy. 

“Ooh, bucks! Kristian, right? Who’s this, your daddy? Gods he’s delicious. Here lemme hold it for you! One in each hand? C’mon!” The oryx babbled, reaching for both Bruno’s and Kristian’s members. 

Bruno turned to face the oryx, and scowled, advancing on him just a little with a menacing growl. The oryx gazed up, cowered, and seemed to get the message, even as he became even more obviously aroused. He stepped back, and Bruno moved to close off any space between himself and Kristian, the pair of them emptying their bladders against the steel trough.

“Damn, did someone call the fire department?” Bruno chuckled. Kristian was still in full stream, strong and powerful, even after Bruno had finished and put himself away. 

“Nnnh. Shh. I drank a lot of water earlier,” Kris mumbled, standing with his legs a little apart and his hips jutted forward. He wasn’t holding himself, and Bruno caught himself watching. 

Kristian’s cock bobbed lightly, a steady drip-drip-drip falling between his hooves as his stream eventually began to slow. Bruno could’ve sworn he was growing, too, his shaft skin tightening a little as blood pumped into his member, lifting it just slightly. Kris shook it a few times, and milked out the last couple of drops before tucking it back into his tiny shorts, dressing left, and stepping back off the urinal grate. As the pair of them turned, the oryx was standing right behind them, mouth open, eyes wide, with his cock in his hand. Bruno growled again, and gently put his hand to the oryx’s face, pushing him backward and out of their way. 

“Thanks for that, Dad,” Kris mumbled, bumping his hip against Bruno’s as the pair of them stepped back out into the (relatively) clean air of the club. 

“Any time. That was... interesting. Is he a regular?”

“You might say that. I obliged him once, and he has no sense of boundaries. ‘Holding it’ quickly turned into him wanting me to use him as the urinal. I mean each to their own, and it might’ve actually been hot if he wasn’t a total stranger.”

“That, and it’s probably not good practice for you to do that with the clientele, right?”

“Also that.”

Bruno paused, a little smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Might’ve been hot, hey?”

Kristian shrunk visibly, and coughed. 

“Didn’t think you were into that kind of stuff...” Bruno persisted, although quietly enough that Kris might not have heard him. 

“Hey Kris! Get your sparkly ass back here!” Sammael suddenly called from somewhere to the stags’ left. 

Relieved to be off that particular hook, Kris waved to Bruno and darted backstage, to where all five of the other dancers were already gathered, along with Augustine. Kristian was sure that none of the other people present had ever faced a conversation with their own dad about kinks they might be into - but then, on the other hand, none of them had ever invited their dad to a drag show they were starring in, either. 

I love how fucked up my family is, Kris thought. 

Beyond the curtain, the MC’s microphone popped and whined, and the usual announcements began, preceding the start of their show. 

Kris and Sam were each leading their flank of three support dancers; they would take to the stage in an echelon formation, and Augustine would shortly thereafter erupt from their midst. It was a challenging role for Kris, since he’d have to be watching Sammael and mirroring his moves, and vice-versa, instead of simply echoing Ash, who was usually his lead. 

“Still dressed left, darling?” Augustine murmured huskily in Kristian’s ear, causing him to jump. The feeling of the drag queen’s hand on his shorts made him squirm, and he grunted. “Ooh, yes you are. Good boy.”

A little squeeze, and Aug stepped away with a peculiarly equine little cackle, his tail whipping across Kristian’s shins. His ludicrously elaborate makeup and outfit was truly a thing to behold, he looked for all the world like a walking firework, or an enormous sparkly peacock, the way feathers and streamers of gauze seemed to erupt from his body. 

That tiny squeeze had more of an effect than he’d probably intended, and Sammael, who’d seen the exchange, glanced down to where Kristian was swelling in his shorts. 

“Little pent up, are you?” Sam chuckled, sidling up alongside him. 

Kristian snorted, and desperately tried to think of something else. There was less than a minute before they were to be on-stage. It was only the tightness of his shorts that was preventing Kristian from hardening fully, and that situation was only worsened when he looked down to see Sam in a very similar predicament. Sammael was uncut, and Kris could just make out the slight ridge of his foreskin around the midsection of his glans. 

“You too, Sam! Dress it right, would ya? Mirror me,” Kris teased, winking at Sammael just as the music began, and the stage manager cued them on. 

Sam hurriedly complied, stuffing his cock to the right, and the two stags pranced out into the bright lights.

*

Bruno was sitting with his back to the bar, one elbow on it and a second beer in his other hand, when the curtains drew back and six sparkly-shorts-clad dancers pranced out onto the stage. Kristian was leading, he noticed - he hadn’t known that! A little bit of pride bloomed in the stag’s chest, and he looked around the club, noting how many pairs of eyes were on his son. His very scantily-clad son. Who appeared to be hard, along with Sammael on the other side of the stage. Bruno almost snorted his beer at the sudden realisation, and his attention was very much piqued. 

What had gone on backstage to get both of them in that state to go on stage? 

As he watched them spinning and gyrating and pirouetting, Bruno couldn’t help but grin. 

And then Augustine appeared. The music changed, losing most of its cadence in a dramatic cascade of feathers and chimes. He emerged through a cloud of smoke, as though walking on clouds, his arms outstretched and his entire body glittering in the stage lights. It was so extravagant Bruno was honestly unsure what to look at. But, as Kristian had told him, the dancers were there very much to support Augustine’s routine, which was spectacular in its own way. Bruno’s eyes, though, rarely strayed from Kristian, and the old buck found himself admiring his son’s physique and talent, even as he struggled to rationalise his new role with the simple comforts of their home life. 

It wasn’t long, though, before Bruno let go of his preconceptions and enjoyed the show for what it was; a light and sound spectacular, celebrating identity, expression and - of course - glitter. 

When the show concluded and the curtain fell, the crowd mingled briefly, flooding to the bar for drinks. There was about an hour before the Heat show was due to begin, and as curious as he was, Bruno had promised himself (and Dieter) that he’d leave before then. 

A few minutes passed, and Kristian emerged from backstage, threading his way through the crowds towards the bar. More than one pair of hands found him on his way through, and Bruno could hear him bleating in protest before he could see him. 

Kris snorted as he finally made it back to his father, and sat heavily on the barstool beside him. He was a little sweaty from the stage lights, and Bruno could smell him. He raised an eyebrow as Kris tipped back one, two, three large glasses of water, and then finally turned to face his father, kneading and adjusting the crotch of his shorts. 

“That was... something else, Kris. Well done,” Bruno rumbled, his low, deep voice cutting through the hubbub of the club effortlessly. 

“Heh, thanks Dad.”

“Are the erections part of the show?”

Kris spat water across the bar, and coughed violently. Bruno clapped him on the back and laughed, and Kris headbutted him in the chest. “You’re my Dad, you weren’t meant to pay attention to that!”

“Hard not to notice, there were a lot of eyes on you and... Sam, is it?”

“Oh my goodness...” Kris groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “Was it that obvious?”

“Yup. Don’t worry, I daresay everyone here enjoyed it.”

“I’d pull out that whole ‘we’re all guys here’ thing you used to say all the time, but uh... I’m honestly not sure, in some cases!”

Bruno roared with laughter, drawing the attention of the bartender and one or two of the nearby patrons, and Kris rolled his eyes. He was so embarrassed, maybe inviting his dad along had been a bad idea...

“Hmm! There’s a strange mix of boundaries, taboos and kink going on in here, I have to admit I’m more than a little confused. Better you than me in those tiny shorts.”

“I...see. How many beers have you had, Dad?”

“What’s it to ya?!” Bruno grinned broadly. 

“Aw fuck. Dad, you’re drunk. Go home!”

“What about the Heat show?” Bruno prodded, teasingly.

Kristian’s heart turned briefly to a stone, and he bleated in frustration. “Who told you about that?!”

“Hey, I’m not THAT old, you know. I can use the internet. Don’t look at me like that, I’m only teasing! I’ll be gone before that happens.”

“Good... I... I don’t...”

“You don’t need to make any excuses. I enjoyed the drag show, but that’s not why you’re here, is it?”

“...No...”

“So? Get up there, shake your ass, enjoy the attention, try not to get in trouble, and remember that if anything happens, I’m a phone call away. Seriously. If I have to come and bail you out of anything, I’m here, okay?”

Kris slid his butt forward and off the barstool with a little bounce, and stepped right into Bruno’s arms, hugging him tightly around his waist. “Thanks, Dad. Now get outta here, get some sleep. I’ll be home around 4, I think.”

*

Bruno couldn’t wipe the grin off his face as he made his way home through the darkened streets. His ears rung slightly, his breath tasted like beer, and he couldn’t quite get rid of the slight tang of urinal cake from the back of his throat. But it was obvious that Kristian was well-suited to the role he’d taken, and he resolved that at least once, he’d have to sneak back in for the Heat show. Just to see what it was all about.

*

Kristian was not rostered to be on stage for the Heat show that evening. He stayed on because he was expected to assist with closing down the club at the end of the night - it was only a small establishment, so even Augustine was ‘expected’ to help out - not that he ever did. 

The young stag was at least semi-hard for the entirety of the show, watching Sammael on stage with Avery, a lithe little thing who stood out in Stillwater for the simple fact that he was not an Equid or a Cervid - but a rabbit. He was stunning, and the way he moved was so fluid, so sensual, that Kris couldn’t help but imagine what he’d feel like to grind up against, to touch, to... He jumped slightly, coming back to reality and shrinking into the shadows at the back of the club a little, the front of his little sparkly shorts painfully tented. His hand fell, and he squeezed himself a couple of times, indulging in the fantasy that it was Avery’s hand... or his butt... 

The Heat show was obviously designed to elicit such a response from the patrons. The lights were low, and as Kris looked around, he could see that he was far from the only one hiding in the shadows back here. What others were doing, he could only guess. The Boys’ Club was an escape for many - being gay in Rhocarn wasn’t stigmatised as it was in some other places, but a lot of people still found that the religious disapproval of anything other than ‘traditional’ sexuality and marriage left them with few options for exploration and expression - a niche that clubs like this catered to, even in an unspoken way. The darkness around the corners of the main club, the kink-friendly bathrooms, the private rooms out the back that were available only to those who asked for them specifically... Kris had been here once or twice before getting his job, but since he’d started working here a whole new layer of the place had become apparent. 

The lights stayed low after the Heat show concluded - it had morphed from something direct and shameless into an amorphous, backlit silhouette show, with an abundance of grinding, thrusting, moaning and animated, phallic metaphors projected onto the wall behind the stage. 

Kristian found that he was still mostly erect, and glared down at himself, and the wet spot of precum that had oozed through his sparkly shorts. More than one patron caught his eye, glanced down, and grinned knowingly at him as he moved back through the club towards the dressing rooms. 

He didn’t even make it halfway, before a very sweaty, very sultry-eyed Sammael met him near the bar, and pressed right up against him, bulge to bulge, their muzzles an inch apart. Sam was a few inches taller than Kris, and his hands found their way right to his butt, pulling their hips tightly together. 

“Mmh. You enjoyed the show as much as I did, feels like...” Sam teased, virtually quivering with arousal. 

“Ffffuck...” Kris groaned, grinding up against his friend and clenching his hands into fists at his sides. 

“Come get a drink...”

Sam pulled back, and propelled Kristian up to the bar. Standing alongside him, Sam leaned forward on the bar with his hips perked backward, and waited until the bartender walked past to catch his attention with the girliest eyelash-flutter Kristian had ever seen. There were a lot of eyes glued to Sammael’s butt, and his tail was flagged high - not helping, obviously.

Sam tipped back several glasses of water while the sweat dried in his fur, before their more adult drinks arrived - Kris already needed to piss, but he was torn between being horny with Sam and taking his leave to probably get felt up in the bathroom. 

So he stayed. 

“I can’t wait to do one of those shows with you, Kris,” Sam said, at length, turning around to lean back on the bar on his elbows, his hips pushed out to show off the front end for a bit. 

Kris’ eyes fell on it, and he grunted, his own surging to erection in his shorts yet again at how shameless Sammael was in such a public place. 

“You’re... Fuck, Sam, I thought I was a pervert, you take it to a whole new level!”

“Oh? Most of these people come here to see cocks, or to feel cocks, or to suck cocks... we’re not obliged to, but why not give them what they come here for?” He grinned, leaning closer to Kristian and sliding a hand down the younger buck’s tummy to curl his fingers around the painfully obvious ridge in his shorts.

Kristian didn’t pull away, and could feel Sam squeeze him when he flexed, sending a shudder through him and causing another drop of precum to ooze into his shorts. 

“Mmh. Big fella, aren’t you?” Sam murmured, fingers feeling out the length and girth of Kristian’s cock. “Cut or uncut?”

“C-cut...” Kris replied.

“Hnnnh...Alright, I need a piss. You coming?”

As if he had a choice. Kristian’s bladder twinged painfully, and he hobbled along behind Sam as he lead the way into the bathrooms. Sam was efficient and passive in the way he made his way through the crowds, right up to the urinal, exactly were Kris had stood with Bruno only a couple of hours before. Kristian glanced around for the oryx, but it seemed he’d either got what he came for, or had gone home. Maybe both. 

Sammael wiggled his hips, and dropped his shorts down to mid thigh, holding them with one hand. By some miracle, Sam had gone mostly soft. Kristian stared as Sam rolled back his thick, juicy foreskin just far enough to expose his tip, and let fly with a groan of relief. His head tipped back and he closed his eyes, sighing happily, and he let go of his cock. It dropped, and he pushed his hips forward to stop it from splashing piss on his hooves, causing his cock to bounce upward. 

A little bleat must have passed Kristian’s lips - or maybe Sam noticed he hadn’t started yet, because their eyes suddenly met. Kris was turned slightly away from Sam, his shorts tucked under his balls, and he seemed to be trying to disguise his erection... badly. 

Sammael’s stream was just starting to peter out, and a soft groan passed his lips when his eyes fell on the full glory of Kristian’s raging hard, tightly-cut cock, throbbing and pulsing only a few inches away from him. His own responded immediately, as pent up as he was, bobbing steadily upward even as his fingers milked out the last few drips. 

“Fuck... that’s a beautiful sight... little problem, Kris?” Sam murmured, turning to face Kristian and leaning on his shoulder, staring down at the younger buck’s cock. 

Kristian shuddered, pushing his shorts down below his butt and holding them there. 

“Can you piss when you’re h...” Sam began. 

Kristian answered that by releasing his bladder. His tail flagged, and all it took was a little push to get his bladder to release. He was raging hard, but that didn’t stop his stream from erupting forth with surprising power, blasting against the steel trough of the urinal almost high enough for splash back to be an issue for them both. Sammael seemed singularly unworried about such things. Indeed his hand had tightened around his own cock, and he throbbed to full erection, rolling his foreskin back and forth over his slick, tender glans. 

“Y-you alright there?” Kris giggled, gazing down at Sam’s cock as he stroked it. 

“Mmh! Never better, cutie. I’m very impressed... Most guys go down by this stage.”

“I sometimes get hard mid-stream...” Kris replied, winking at Sammael. 

That had the desired effect. The slightly older stag shuddered, his hand gripping his shaft and giving it fitful, noisy strokes. 

“This is so hot...” Kris bleated, his arousal spiking. His stream was starting to ebb, and to avoid concealing his cock from his voyeur, he held his balls, tugging gently on them to shake out the last drops. 

Kristian hadn’t realised just how into this he would be. Or how pent up he was. Or how aroused. The familiar tingle and heat of an impending orgasm crept up on him, from nothing more than the slight increase in skin tension. He shuddered, hips instinctively pulling back and his thighs squeezing together. 

“Nnnh fuck...” Kris murmured. No no no, not so quickly! Shit, where did that come from?! He said to himself, forcing a deep breath into his lungs to give him something other than Sammael’s gorgeous body to focus on.

He forced himself to look away from Sammael’s blatant masturbation, focus on anything other than the luscious, juicy wetness of his foreskin... he grit his teeth, hands clenching and unclenching a few times while his hips quivered, his cock flexed and bobbed and drooled precum... it was only just barely enough to hold back his orgasm, and Kristian’s cock bounced rhythmically, a couple of tiny, watery droplets of cum spritzing out as he ruined it.

“Oh my fucking... did you... nnngh!”

His attention was snapped back to Sammael at the older buck’s exclamation, and his eyes were drawn down just as Sam bucked and panted and gasped and bleated his way through an orgasm of his own, with no intention or attempt to hold it back. He kept moving that thick, velvety hood back and forth through his climax, shooting a few thick ropes against the urinal trough and letting the rest drip over his fingers to the grate below them. 

“Oh wow... I...” Kris began, his hand sliding down to curl around his own achingly hard, dripping cock. 

“Come on boys, get outta here!” Came a sudden yell from behind them. “I want to go home before dawn for once! Out!”

It was the club owner, standing at the bathroom entrance and jingling his keys irritably. 

Kris and Sam exchanged a glance, sympathy in Sammael’s eyes as he glanced at Kris’ predicament, and then the two of them burst into giggles, and hurried on out - after washing their hands, of course, to give Kristian at least a half chance of softening. 

“Fuck... Now what?” Sam asked, as the pair of them found themselves out in the alleyway behind the club, clothes in their hands - the owner hadn’t even given them the chance to dress before he locked up and drove away.

“Are you offering to finish me off in a seedy alleyway behind a gay club at half three in the morning?” Kristian smirked. 

“Well...”

“Classy, Sam. Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll survive ten more minutes of blue balls until I get home. See you next shift!”

Kris spoke even as he slid on his jeans over his sparkly shorts, and zipped up his cardigan for the walk home. The two stags hugged, groped for a moment, giving Kristian another erection, and then Sam extricated himself with a grin, and turned away.

“Tease!” Kris called after him, to a giggle from Sammael.

*

Kristian winced at the loud click and the creak of the front door as he arrived home just over fifteen minutes later, the house dark and silent. It was almost four in the morning, and he crept upstairs as quietly as he could. He could hear Bruno snoring, his door ajar, and got himself ready for bed as quietly as he could manage. But he was more than a little shaky after the evening’s various encounters, and desperate to empty his balls. 

Dieter wasn’t there, he noticed, as he slunk across the hall from bathroom to bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes between the doorway and the bed. At the last moment, he swiped up a towel off the floor - he had a feeling he was going to need it. 

Sprawling onto the bed naked, Kris let out a shaky moan, his hand surrounding his cock and caressing it as it swelled urgently to erection. Precum rolled over his fingers, and he smeared it around his helmet, bucking his hips gently into his hand. This was going to be fast, and explosive. He could tell from the gentle ache in his nuts, and the hum of his arousal. 

Gripping himself around his midsection, Kris stroked his achingly hard cock slowly and deliberately, pulling downward on his tight shaft skin and pushing it up against the back of his glans, moving his hips in a gentle opposing rhythm. 

He couldn’t even decide what to think about. Sammael’s dick? Avery’s perfect, bubbly little ass? 

His Dad?

Kristian’s eyes flew open in the darkness. Why had the image of Bruno standing beside him at the urinal caused that spike in his arousal, the little bouncing throb in the root of his shaft as he edged?

His hand squeezed around his cock, and a shuddering bleat passed his lips as he failed to hold back from the edge of an orgasm that had been too long coming. Frantically he tried to picture Avery, or Sammael, in the final moments - his mind fogged, and the heat of his climax overtook him. Kris rolled up onto his knees, his left hand tweaking at his nipple urgently as he milked himself over the edge, pointing his cock roughly at the towel he’d spread out on the bed. He trembled and shook, and cum erupted from his clenched fist, spritzing messily upward and arcing onto the towel with audible little splats. Shot after shot, contraction after contraction, Kristian moaned heatedly. 

It took him a full minute to come down, to begin to recover, and he reached over to flick on the bedside lamp. Blinking in the sudden brightness, he grinned at how powerful and how messy he’d been - his entire towel was covered in little streaks of his lust, as well as the bed on either side of it, and even the headboard, well over three feet in front of him. He balled up the towel and used it to wipe up the worst of his mess, and then collapsed heavily back onto the mattress. 

And drifted off to sleep to the unmistakable sound of Bruno masturbating in the room beside his own.

***