After swallowing the bitter, salty pain pills, Tristan tenderly laid his head down in his soft cool pillow and watched his mommy leave his dimly lit room. He noticed the massive darkened area on the vixen's dress and the arid odor that lingered for a short while after, but the stupid child didn't realize what the mark or the smell was. He didn't wonder what his mommy needed to do that she couldn't stay with him in his room, and he didn't think to ask if she would be back soon if only to change his diaper that held his own warm urine against his pelvis like a sopping wet sponge.

Instead, the wimpy cub closed his eyes and waited for the medicine to start working and relieve the pain he felt from his head and stomach. Even his pillow, soft and plush, made Tristan's swollen face ache as his muzzle lightly pressed against it, but at least laying in his cushy bed with his warm blanket made him feel more comfortable and a little more secure. He squirmed around to get comfortable, all the while making his piddled diaper crinkle and make faint squelching noises. Here and there a tiny amount of fox urine leaked from the leg holes of the drenched diaper and spotted the sheet below him.

He barely noticed the drug take effect because he was replaying what had just taken place in his mind over and over again. He couldn't stop himself from dwelling on the horrible helpless feelings he encountered as he was mercilessly battered by the teenage dragon. The hurt and shame made the arctic fox kit sob and cry into his pillow until his body simply didn't have the energy to do either thing anymore. The immature little wuss couldn't even force himself to stay awake even if he wanted, so he drifted to sleep, laying his head down against the cool pillow, wet with tears.

The transition from awake to asleep seemed very gradual to Tristan, making him unaware of if he was really sleeping at all. Before becoming unconscious, the arctic fox was thinking about the bullying, and now that he was asleep, not only was he replaying the event in his mind, he was reliving it, parts in vivid detail. In his dream he was in the middle of his back yard, and there was his bully, the older dragon. The kit tried to run away from the lizard, but his legs took him nowhere. He didn't run but more swam slowly through the air without gaining any ground at all. The dragon would just approach the kit with  mocking ease, and Tristan mentally struggled with the cruel unfairness of the situation, visualizing a route of escape that he somehow couldn't take. Despair overtook him, and he dreaded the punch that he expected. Sure enough, he was hit and felt as though he'd really been struck. The blow however was not accompanied by the shock to the head, the sudden temporary blur of his vision, or the feeling of his head jerking to one side like his real punches had been. Several times over the pansy fox sensed he'd been struck violently by the tightly clenched dragon fist, and though there was no actual pain, the kit believed he was really being smacked and punched in his sleep.

His escape seemed utterly hopeless, and he had no idea how long the beating went on. For a while it just continued for the cub, tormenting the small pathetic creature when suddenly he felt a different sensation on his chest that penetrated his made-up reality and caused it to fade like a dense fog in bright sunlight. He immediately recognized the warmth and affirmative presence as his mommy's paw. She spoke softly to him which helped the dream fade away. The nightmare seemed to be over, and as the white fox looked around his room, he felt some relief. He saw his mommy, but this time she smelled freshly washed, not yucky like earlier.

She rubbed his shoulder with her thumb and tilted her head as she caressed his dirty, off-white fur. "Wake up, Tristan. Come on now, nap time's over.” The pansy fox groaned and turned over, placing his paws on his mommy's shoulders. This made her chuckle and hold onto her little sissy, wrapping her paws around him to draw his sore body close to hers. “Okay baby, you're going to take your bath a little early today.” The child nodded groggily as his mommy lifted him up and began to carry the little bitch with his legs dangling like lifeless sausages. On the way to the bathroom, Ms. Webb examined her son's body and face a second time, now after a nap. The bruises were more pronounced now, and most of them overlapped with another. A sick perverted part of the mommy adored each of those little blotches and lead her to ask a few embarrassing questions.

“What did the bully do with you, sweety?” She asked. Tristan whined and blushed, though it was hard to notice with the cluster of blemishes. “It's okay Tristan.” Ms. Webb assured, “You can tell mommy all about what happened.” She set him down in the tub, and he started to reluctantly tell his story as his legs wobbled back to life and supported his weight.

Tristan impressed his mommy with the amount of detail he remembered. She didn't have to ask him questions to fill in the gaps, but she still asked him a few questions while she added plenty of special relaxing bubble bath soap to the warm running water and swished it around with her paw. “What did you think when he put his hand around your neck?” “When was it you started to pee yourself?” “When he spat in your eye, was it thick and foamy or runny and watery?” These insidious questions made the pathetic wimp avoid looking his mommy in the eyes when he answered.

He did answer all the questions though, but while he did that, he thought about a question he would ask. “Why did he do that, Mommy?” He looked up to her after mustering whatever courage he had.

The vixen tilted her head. “What you you mean baby?”

“I mean,” He started, “Why did he hit me so much? What did I do bad?”

His mommy nodded and hummed at the question, understanding the confused cub's question. “Oh you didn't do anything bad, little one. That bully just wanted to fight you, and it looks like you lost. When you lose fights, it means you get beat up. Have you ever heard of that happening to any of your friends?” Tristan shook his head. “Ah, is this the very first time you've been beaten up?”

He nodded and whimpered “Yeah. What do you mean first time?”

“Oh I just figured there is probably going to be another bully that wants to fight you, and if you lose that fight you'll get beat up again. It's kind of how it goes baby.” Ms. Webb explained nonchalantly. This spooked the kit, but the mommy distracted him with a soaking splash of water and asked more innocuous questions.

Eventually the vixen seemed satisfied and began to scrub her boy's body until it returned to its pure white condition it had before the bullying. She pulled the drain plug, and Tristan playfully watched the tub drain and clapped his paws as the spiral above the drain sucked up piles of suds. The tiny scatterbrained fox was already on his way to getting on with his life, as if forgetting about the nasty birthday gift and cooperated while his mommy doused him in fresh warm water to rinse him. He was toweled try, but when he tried to step out of the tub, his mommy stopped him, much to his confusion. His sense of fear returned, and his ears splayed back almost immediately after since he learned that lately confusion has led to some kind of suffering.

Though she was delighted with his nervousness, Mommy decided to put his fears at ease and stroked his silky blonde hair. “Don't worry baby. I'm not going to be mean to you like your bullies. I'm just going to get something that'll make your coat shine really nice. Wouldn't you like that?” The boy simply nodded and allowed his ears to slowly lift. His mommy left him in the bathtub naked and slightly damp, so he just played around with one of his plastic bath toys. It was a rocket ship that used to contain mild liquid soap before it was all used up. Mommy came back in holding a large wine glass filled to the brim with viscus pearly sperm, though Tristan was oblivious to what it was. It just looked like wobbly goo somewhere between pudding and jelly.

“What's that mommy?” he asked, dropping his toy.

“Oh, this is called cum darling. You can use it for shampoo. It works really great, and it doesn't taste really bad if you accidentally get some in your mouth. See?” As if to prove her point, she brought her muzzle to the glass and dipped her tongue inside, curling the muscle in a classical vulpine fashion to spoon a glob of jizz into her muzzle. She smiled and swallowed with an intentionally loud gulp before showing her clean tongue and offering the glass to her eight year old son's muzzle. “You give it a try. It's actually pretty good.”

The kit's muzzle crumpled at first, and he cautiously sniffed very tiny amounts far away from the glass. Something about what he smelled made him curious and he leaned closer and closer, sniffing again, this time deeper. His tail began to lift and started to wag, which caught his mommy's attention. Ms. Webb didn't expect this reaction but rather thought the scent would make him feel sick. Even more, her pre-teen child sipped from the glass and made a pleasant moan when he lifted his head and churned the mess in his mouth while some thin white strands clung to the fur about his lips. The thick, lumpy ejaculate seemed like a fun and new kind of candy. What he especially liked about the new treat was how his mommy didn't seem to mind that he'd gotten a little sloppy with it. He swallowed and slurped up some more from the glass in his mommy's paw. The vixen started to be turned on by her sissy boy again today, but she just chuckled and thought to herself “There you go. Who's a little faggot that loves his cummy-cums? Who's mamma's little homo? That's right, you are.” When he leaned in for a third helping, she stopped him and gently stroked his face, trying hard to avoid pressing on one of his bruises.

“Now sweetheart, if you eat up all the cum now you won't have any left to rub into your fur. Close your eyes now, hun.” With that the vixen upturned the glass over her sons head and let the sloppy dragon cum patter against the top of his head, crowning him in white slime. He closed his eyes and felt the ooze run down the length of his blonde hair before mommy started smearing the sperm into all of his hair and fur, even his face fur. She wouldn't waste a drop either, using her finger to scoop out the last sticky lumps of cum from the glass before lewdly wiping her finger on her lily child's muzzle, rubbing it in like facial cream.

Ms. Webb noticed that Tristan's fur absorbed the spunk much faster than she had anticipated, and though she realized she wouldn't be able to cover his entire body, she was at least hoping to slather some of the cum into his tail fur. “Hmm, sorry little one, but it looks like we ran out.”

Tristan didn't seem very sad. “That's okay mommy. I liked it anyway.” He reached for the faucet to get some more fresh water to rinse off with, but his mommy stopped him, saying it works best if you just let it stay there. He didn't seem to mind that at all either and even smiled brightly as his mommy picked him up again and put him into a new diaper. It was getting close to the end of the day, so he was allowed to roam around the house wearing nothing but the diaper and a very thin coat of love goo.

While he played in his room, the mommy closed all the windows in the house and turned on the central air conditioning to its highest setting. She figured doing so would help Tristan feel more comfortable about wearing his 'shampoo' so long. The rest of the evening went much better for Tristan since he got to play until supper, and even after supper he and his mom watched “The Lion King” together and snacked on popcorn and juice. Before bed, his mommy poured a couple glasses of water, a big one for herself and a smaller glass for her baby. After all, at the end of the day, both of them felt a little dehydrated.

The next morning was much like the one before, only Tristan awoke to the welcome crisp air conditioning, and he felt a lot better than the night prior. He walked over to the bathroom just down the hallway, turned on the overhead dome light, and peaked his snout over the edge of the white porcelain sink. He wanted to see if his fur was any shinier at that moment than before his cum bath, but that's when he noticed his bruises for the first time. They were very faint, only a subtle shadow of their firmer angry swelling, but still he noticed them. The room itself only made his marks stand out more with the  bathroom's pristine lustrous white tiles, scant navy blue trim that matched the little bath towel, all neat and linear save for the irregular discoloration about the formerly snow white kit. He'd forgotten all about looking at his fur, which didn't look much better and wouldn't until the dry residue from the 'shampoo' was scrubbed off. He just whined and pouted in his shame, stayed staring at the mirror for a moment and meandered downstairs so his mommy could change his freshly soggy diaper.

He didn't pick out any clothing but ate breakfast in only his nappy before going back to his room to listen to some music. Tristan loaded his favorite CD in his player and picked an upbeat track. He listened and smiled a clever crooked smile as his feet tapped and responded to the beat. He stood up and let his hips rock from side to side to the rhythm. He was a natural, and he just strolled around his colorful room, sliding small toys on the floor out of the way as he moved in a circle. That kept him entertained and happy for a while, but soon he started to feel a dull pain in his stomach that stopped him in his tracks. A moment later it seemed to subside enough so he could return to his music, but it wasn't long before the pain came back minutes later, this time accompanied with a twinge of nausea. He sat down this time and waited for it to subside, clenching his paw as he panted. “What's going on?” he thought. It wouldn't go away this time, and that's when the kit realized he hadn't pooped since the night before his birthday party two days ago.

He slapped the power off button on his CD player before braving the hallway to his bathroom. He untaped his own diaper, lifted his tail and plopped down on the plastic toilet seat feeling a little more at ease with the gentle hypnotic hum of the bathroom fan. He rested his head in his paws and clenched over and over again, getting nothing. It was odd because it didn't feel like any other time he'd needed to shit. There was the pressure on all sides in his insides except for his anus, which would have been his biological signal. His stomach swelled in anguish, which made him lean over and hug his thighs. Minutes passed while pressure slowly built, all without making any progress. The kit whined and grimaced as he tried with all of his being to defecate and be rid of the pain. Little did he know that gobs of cheese pizza and a little dehydration was a recipe for constipation in tiny foxes.

After about forty-five minutes, there was a knocking on the other side of the door. “Tristy? What's going on? What are you up to?” His mommy asked from the opposite side.

Tristan's ears perked up with a gasp as he stood up from the toilet and went to the door. He almost opened the door to beg his mommy for help, but at the last moment he was attacked by his own embarrassment and turned the lock instead of the knob. “Nothing Mommy.” he stammered at last.

“Tristan,” She fought the door knob. “You've been in there for almost an hour. Are you making a mess in there again?” The worried kit didn't answer but instead placed his naked rear back down on the toilet seat and froze, his heart beating faster and faster as his mom got more impatient and began banging on the door. He put his paws on his ears and panted, wanting his mommy and of course the pain to go away, and after a minute one of them did. He didn't hear what the last thing she had to say was, but after a long moment of silence, there came a sudden loud slam that made the door swing open. There was his mommy stepping inside with a claw hammer in her paw.

“Tristan?” She asked again, this time more incredulously while examining the damaged door frame. The tyke looked very guilty and ashamed, still perched on the toilet. “Baby, if you're going to the bathroom, you could have just told me. I wouldn't have been mad.” She scolded. The kit winced again, which revealed more of his pain than he thought it would. “Are you okay honey?” his mommy asked, kneeling by the toilet and setting the hammer down on the floor.

“I can't poop.” The kit huffed. His stomach made a gurgling sound.

“Oh baby,” Ms. Webb reached out to stroke his face. “How long has it been?” The kit turned away to hide tears that were starting to form, but his sniff gave himself away. “Come on, talk to me sweetie.”

He sniffed again “Two days. It feels really bad.” He felt that motherly paw turn his head to face her, and he didn't resist this time, feeling that it wasn't nearly as humiliating to cry as it was to be blocked up on the toilet with his mommy in the room. “Can you please help me?” The whiny sissy asked even though he had no idea how she would do so.

The mommy nodded calmly, clearly more confident about what she would do. Tristan waited anxiously while his mom stood up. She hummed to herself as she looked through the medicine cabinet. From there she got out a latex glove left over from when she used to dye her hair and also a small tub of Vaseline. Tristan felt even more anxious now than before seeing the two objects, having a good idea what was going to happen. When the vixen knelt down next to him on the toilet, Tristan closed his legs and crossed his arms defensively over his lap.

“Sweetheart,” Ms. Webb sighed, “It'll be fine, you don't even know what I'm going to do yet.”

He whimpered “Does that mean you aren't going to put your fingers in my butt?”

His mommy nearly gasped from his rather crude choice of words, but she couldn't deny what she was going to do. What would be the point of that anyway? “Well yes, that's what I'm doing, but it will only hurt for a little bit and then you'll feel much better, okay?” The cub stayed silent. He wasn't convinced. He wanted there to be some other way especially since he never heard about any of his friends who needed their mom to shove their fingers into their anuses. Then again, he didn't know anyone else his age that still needed to wear diapers, and that was reason enough to think he might be different in this way too.

His silence turned out to be no defense, and before he knew it, his mommy was slipping the glove over her paw. “uh uh” The pussy shook his head and clenched his paws harder. His mom only continued as if she hadn't heard him and scooped dabs of petroleum jelly onto her fingertips. “Mamma no.” He said louder. Finally the vixen reached between his legs with her ungloved paw, but that only made her little boy squeal and shuffle off the toilet. The kit didn't know what he was doing; all he knew was he was not at all interested in his mommy's plan even if it would relieve his constipation.

Ms. Webb simply reached out and gripped her little son's tail and dragged him back to the toilet bent over and screaming. The outburst earned the stubborn brat a sudden kick to the chin from his mommy's bare hind paw, only did so because both her paws were busy. “Owwie!” The kit brought one of his paws defensively to his face while he began to sob. It was hard to decide what part of being kicked hurt Tristan the most. Was it the blunt force of the hind paw colliding with his face which hadn't even fully healed since his last brutal onslaught? Or was it the feeling of betrayal from his beloved caretaker with whom he felt a familiar bond? It was a punishment though, and Tristan reasoned that what he did must have been naughty enough to warrant the harsh bash.

“Shush now, or I'll do it again.” His mommy barked. Tristan's ears again went flat, and his lip curled in dread of what he was sure would be uncomfortable on a few levels. Nevertheless he nodded and gave himself up to his mommy with obedience, mostly fueled by the aversion from another painful punishment. Ms. Webb sensed his submission and smiled to herself. She gained ground on her pussy son faster than she anticipated. He clenched his jaw when he felt the cool rim of the toilet press against the backs of his thighs, and he quivered when he felt his mommy's lubricated fingers separate his rump fur and press lightly against the tiny clenched anus. “Just relax now, baby. Mommy's just going to get you going.” The vixen's voice was soft again, though she still held onto the child tightly by his tail, close to the base.

She adored that anus and watched the tiny hole close tighter when she smeared some of the jelly onto the outer ring. She cooed to her son to help him relax. It wasn't a matter of getting him to hold still but more a matter of making it easier to slide her fingers inside of him. She poked that hole and swirled her paws around the glistening pucker. Though it made him more docile and accepting of his mommy's treatment, she progressed slowly because she enjoyed it very much. She brought her paw down to the jelly again to gather more on her fingers, but when she did, the timid fox kit whined, complaining that the pain was getting worse. She just assured him that he would feel much better soon and brought her paw back to his anal entrance. One...two...three more deep swirls before the two slender fingers plowed into Tristan's rear. A painful moan from the child punctuated the moment she entered. Tristan reached out and gripped the bathtub hard with his paws while the two adult fingers spread him open and slid inside him. It was only a couple of inches the vixen had to insert her lubed and gloved fingers when she felt the firm mass that must have been causing her little one's suffering.

The feminine twerp of a fox began to whine loudly from the pressure and the sick feeling. His ears felt hot as his blood rushed to them, though his stomach churned uneasily, giving him the feeling like he was going to vomit. The fingers withdrew slowly and left the kit's rear, but they returned seconds later to plunge back inside the suffering pansy with a heap more petroleum. Those fingers then swirled around the child's anal passage and gave him that much needed urge to shit. His stomach clenched hard and the mass started to move. Finally! There was some relief!

A different kind of moan came from the kit this time which sounded happy. They were not finished yet though, and Tristan waited for another swoop from his mommy only to feel her fingers remaining still. His ears perked up. “Mommy?” There was no answer. “Mommy what are you doing?”

“Well sweetie, I'm waiting for you to ask me to help you again.” The voice sounded very kind, but outside of her little boy's sight, the mommy was grinning. She'd even loosened her grip on his tail without him noticing.

The kit gulped and moved his mouth a bit to try speaking. “M-mommy, would you please help me?” He asked, though there was no movement or reply. He decided to ask again a little louder. “Mommy, would you please move your fingers around?” The kit grunted as he felt those digits start to withdraw and slip out. He turned his head. “Mommy put your fingers in my butt and wiggle them around!” Those seemed to be the magic words as Tristan got an affirmative reply followed by a forceful thrust of the fingers back into his asshole. He gasped and panted as the digits plunged in and out and rocked against the walls deep inside. The constant pressure on his sphincter gave him that urge again, which he was glad to answer. He didn't know how much longer he could stand being so full. He was able to push his filth further and further until he reached another obstacle: mommy's fingers. The glove was already being encased with warm mashed up fox shit. Tristan could tell that just by feel, so why was she still plunging away? He was ready for release, and now what had gotten him this far was now blocking him. Before the boy had a chance to say anything, he felt the paw on his tail move and caress his sides before finally curling around his scrawny chest. He felt the vixen's warm clothed stomach against his side and a sudden increase in the speed and force the finger was moving. A slick wet sound began to issue from the fox cub's rear and mixed with the noise of the bathroom fan and Tristan's moaning. “Mommy!” He called. “Mommy, I'm ready now! I'm ready now!” The fingers just slammed inside the warm mush and wormed around deeper than ever before.

Just as the squirming child was about to whine for relief again, mommy's fingers withdrew quickly, making the lumpy, smelly tan mess escape from his anus in nearly no time. Tristan gasped and started to see his vision speckle and his eyes drift shut. He couldn't help but arch his head up when the clean paw lifted his body up into a sitting position right on the rim of the toilet. His stomach tensed a couple more times as it pushed more mess out of his system and into the spattered bowl.

“Stay still now.” He heard his mommy say to him. He nodded and leaned against the front of the toilet tank. He heard her peel off her glove with a wet smack sound and then felt the cool wetness of a baby wipe against his anus and the surrounding fur.

“Hey, I can get that by myself.” The sissy complained.

“Oh but I've already helped you so much dear. I might as well help you a little more.” She chuckled.

He sighed and complied. “Okay Mommy.”

“Does my little baby feel better?” She asked when she was finished cleaning his bottom. He nodded. “Was it so bad having mommy's fingers spreading your little butt hole wide.” He shook his head and blushed. “I'm glad that's how you feel because mommy's going to do that every time you need a diaper change, you know, so this doesn't bother you again.”

“huh?” The kit lifted his ears and opened his eyes. He hoped he heard his mommy wrong or that she wasn't serious. Yet there was already a part of him that learned his his mommy was serious even if it sounded strange and humiliating for him. “But momma, I think I'll be okay now.”

“But that's what you thought before and clearly you were not. If you were, you wouldn't have needed help. I'll just make sure you're making poopies like normal and you won't have these problems anymore. No need to take risks, right?”

The expression on the vixen's face made it clear to the young fox that he wasn't going to persuade her. He just frowned and nodded. “Yes Mommy.” The kit slowly tried to stand back up, but a sudden downward shove made him bend over again. “Wha-?” He was cut off with a sharp slap on the rear. “Ow! Mommy?” He whined and squirmed.

“You rude little brat,” She slapped his other butt cheek with her flattened paw, “You didn't thank Mommy at all for her help.” Another whooping smack made the kit squeal and fight the punishment. Tristan shook his head from the stinging pain and tried to thank his mommy repeatedly, but the punishment just continued. “The time has passed for that now, little one. Mommy shouldn't have to remind you of your manners all the time.” For a few minutes the spanking continued, and it wasn't until both of the vixen's paws were sore that she stopped and panted. Tristan was panting too, but also shivering and sniffling into his paws. Finally he was turned around and was forced to stand up straight. “Are you going to remember next time?”

The young kit nodded with a pouty frown. “I promise I'll say 'thank you' from now on.” This kit's day was turning out to be almost as bad as the day before.

That's when Mommy tussled his hair. “That's my boy. Now how about something nice for my nice kit? Who wants brushies?” This made the little fox smile and throw his fluffy white paws in the air with glee.

“I do! I do!” He exclaimed. He quickly grabbed his dry diaper and put it on, only to have his mommy readjust it an instant later. The two foxes went to the living room where the child curled up in his mommy's lap while she turned on the television. He watched cartoons while his mom reached for the table near the couch and grabbed a soft bristle brush which she used to groom her little boy's hair and fur. As she was doing this, the residue from the semen wash started to flake off in a fine dust and leave behind soft, shiny fur. The mommy smiled when she noticed it and continued, pulling off the residue tiny amounts at a time along with some soft white fur. By the time the show was over, the boy's coat looked significantly nicer and more strait. Tristan himself was feeling better and smiled contently from his mommy's treatment.

When the show was over, it was a little after noon, and the vixen made a late lunch for both of them, and then it was time for Tristan to put on some clothes: A pair of tan shorts and a tangerine orange t-shirt. “I think your bully is going to like this a lot.” She said as she laid the clothes out for her son. This caused a sudden nervous twinge in the wimpy kit's stomach, one that made him fold his paws over his tummy to settle it.

He already knew it was pointless to argue with his mom, but what was he supposed to do? He didn't want to get beaten up after a minute the silence was too much for him to handle. “What's the bully going to be like?”

The vixen shrugged. “Like I said before honey. There's no way to tell. I know he's a colt though. He's around ten, and he's got a white coat just like you do. His name is Jake. I'm sure the two of you are going to have lots of fun.” Tristan didn't think he would be having very much fun at all as he was marched out by his mommy into the back yard in the sticky summer afternoon heat. Ms. Webb checked her cell phone and nodded to herself before she kissed Tristan on the forehead. “Have fun sweetheart.” She said warmly as she walked to back to the house.

Tristan was about to call after her, but then he noticed Jake, the white pony colt wearing a blue muscle shirt, a gold chain necklace, a wristwatch and a pair of black cargo shorts. The equine seemed fairly well groomed and smiled nicely when the vixen was talking to him. Tristan couldn't hear what either of them were saying, but soon the mommy was going back into the house, leaving the white colt to slowly step toward the kit. Tristan stepped backwards and the feeling of fear that crushed him in his nightmare swept over him again. “H-hi Jake.” He said timidly.

“Oh so you know my name do ya?” He said as he approached, his expression changing to a more aggressive one that made Tristan waddle backward faster than before. “Whad else did ya momma tell you about me?” He caught up shoved the little kit over onto his back.

Tristan curled up and wrapped his paws around himself the best he could in defense. “She just said you were a colt and you have white fur.”

“Did ya momma tell you I ain't no bitch?” Jake yelled and stuck his chest out. His eyes were wide and angry. The kit didn't know what to say but rather spoke with his confused facial expression. Why would anyone think to call someone they've never even seen a bitch? Why did he have to make that distinction? “You fuckin' eye-ballin me, punk?” The colt spat, to which the helpless kit shook his head to. “Ya know what, bitch, I don't like you or your shit. I'm gonna fuck your shit up!” He bent over and looked the intimidated fox in the eyes. “Come on, you ain't gonna fight back? Get up and fight. Come on. Are you a chicken or something?”

“I'm a fox.” Tristan said, still extremely confused. He was very torn between the two emotions of confusion and fear, but if anything was certain to him, it was the uncertainty of his whole situation. He started to pant from the heat when all of a sudden the equine reached down and picked the kit up by his shirt before delivering four hard punches to the face. The kit backed away again and held up his paws, screaming in agony. It was especially frustrating for the fat knuckles to connect with his eyes and make it hard for him to see. He coughed and charged the colt, making his long wimpy little war cry as he did so. He didn't have a plan, but it looked like the white pony did and was more than happy to execute it.

It wasn't much of a fight after that as much as it was a blur of painful punches against the pansy's entire body, mocking laughter, and name calling. Tristan was defenseless and several times found himself coughing and crawling on all fours. He put up a paw to surrender, but the colt simply yanked him forward onto his knees and forced him into a kneeling position. The kit was dizzy and in serious pain, in no shape to think about or see what was coming.

The colt wound his leg up and grunted hard as he delivered a brutal snap kick to the side of the fox's muzzle, the metal shoe on the pony's hoof impacting the kit's face hard enough to force his head to swing to the side and make his body flop over. The kit's eyes opened wide from the extreme pain, and his paws quivered hopelessly as he was picked up again like a knocked over tee-ball tee and struck again on the opposite side with Jake's other hoof. His ears rung and felt hot. The inside of the cub's muzzle started to taste a lot like iron as the inside of his swollen cheeks scraped against his own teeth. Not only that, but one of his teeth were missing now, a bleeding gap in his pearly rows and the chunk resting on his tongue.

The kit knelt down and spat out the tooth and a half mouthful of foamy blood when Jake was setting him back up on his knees. The kit shook his head in desperation and begged for his bully to stop. Tears, blood and snot oozed from his face alike, which spoke louder than his actual words which were stammered and unintelligible. Tristan couldn't see the grin on the pony's muzzle that marked the idea that appeared in Jake's brain, but he had plenty of dread as if he had seen it.

The violence stopped. “You are such a mess. Here, let me wash that mouth.” The next thing the kit knew there was a warm, spongy new object in his mouth which was also fleshy and spread his jaws apart painfully. There was a moment of relative silence before a gush of disgusting salty liquid shot at the back of the sissy's throat and sprayed like a fountain out of the corners of his mouth. Tristan coughed louder and louder and started to breathe through his nose when he realized what the taste was. It was piss, and he smelled it several times before when his diapers were changed. The only difference was the strength. Tristan could stand his own smell, especially neutralized with a diaper, but this was different. This was hell.

The colt laughed and pulled his pecker from the cub’s mouth to spray the child's face with the hot, stingy urine. Tristan’s face and hair were soaked with the repulsive golden liquid, and the fox knelt there crying. He couldn’t see a thing, but over the ringing in his ears he could hear a slick and rhythmic sound, faint yet close. It made the fox afraid to move and filled him with dread for what was going to happen. He felt a hand tilt his muzzle upward, but when he expected pain, what he received was a blast of thick, gooey cum. The fox kit’s tail started to wag in spite of his intense agony as he gulped down an overflowing mouth full of interesting pony seed. He felt more of the warm cream squirt against his nose and run down his chin. He didn’t mind that, but he could hear the bully’s laughter that shamed him. Was there something wrong with liking the taste of cum?

“See ya later, faggot. Maybe next ti-” Tristan heard his speech being cut short with a heavy sounding thump, and he thought he’d been hit again like in his dream. Something was different though. His ears still rung, and it was almost completely quiet. Tristan whipped the tears from his eyes and took a look around to see the bully laying on the ground asleep. Beside him was his mommy, only she was dressed in black pants and a white button-up shirt. She looked really weird since Tristan never saw her like that before. His mommy knelt down and looked into the kit’s eyes. Everything had been so frightening and strange, and this was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“Mommy?” Tristan reached out to offer the figure a hug, but when he did, he noticed her chest was not what he was used to. It was so flat.

“No, child. This time it’s Daddy.”