The Rut

5. SUNDAY STU

“How do they eat so much?” Ms. Venable asked the universe, running her eyes over the ledger.
 
“Growing boys eating for two!” answered Mrs. Crist, the cook, not looking up from her meal prep. “And the big blond one, eating for three they say!”
 
“Mmm,” mused Ms. Venable. “When the Home had girls, the meals cost a fraction of this.”
 
“The girls wanted to look as small as little birds!” laughed Mrs. Crist.
 
“Yes, but not these beasts,” groaned Ms. Venable, nostalgic for the economy of modesty. “Their protein demands alone are ruinous.”
 
Jamie appeared in the kitchen, somewhat startled to see Ms. Venable there.
 
“Morning Ms. V!” he said, with feigned cheer.
 
“Pickle jar’s on the counter!” announced Mrs. Crist.
 
“Thanks Mrs. C!” chirped Jamie as he laid hands on a gallon-size jar of dill pickles. On his way out he made a stop at the kitchen refrigerator, which shut with a dull thud as he made his exit.
 
“Pickles?” asked Ms. Venable.
 
“Yes ma’am. The young Stag Buck, ma’am. Can’t get enough. Goes through a jar every Sunday, right as rain.”
 
Ms. Venable considered this. Novel clients incurred novel costs. The man-mountain and his twins required special medical monitoring. The Stag Buck created a pheromone furor among the other boys with its attendant biological untidiness, and now his pregnancy cravings demanded special purchases. But worse than all this was the military boy and his deception. What a vexing business. She pursed her lips hard in anticipation of the military escorts coming to take Dean away.
 
In the dining room, the Venable Home residents were, for once, interested in the very same topic as Ms. Venable herself: Dean.
 
“I KNEW that navy dude was not knocked up!” bellowed Abe. “WOOOOH I CALLED IT!”
 
“Man, can you just not?” groaned Chad. “No one knew a damn thing.” No one with one  exception, which he left unsaid.
 
“Fuck,” added Abe, glancing upstairs and pointing with a finger to his own palm. “That dude’s belly is FLAT.”
 
“How’d he trick the navy?” asked Forrest, eager to distance himself from any association with the deception, having arrived on the same day as Dean.
 
“He says he switched tests with an actual Buck who got knocked up,” Chad answered. “Both named Dean, I guess. As soon as they test positive they get pulled out, and the other guy wanted to stay in the service as long as he could, even just a few weeks more.”
 
“Getting some Navy bro poon!” boomed Abe. “Fuck man, that must be sweet!”
 
“I guess this other Dean wasn’t exactly set up to come to a place like this,” added Chad, rubbing his fingers together to signal dollars. “He’ll have to go to a DINK.”
 
“What’s a DINK?” asked Forrest.
 
“Some kind of military home for knocked-up dudes. Defense Institute for Natal Knowledge. Guys call it a DINK. Real low quality. Some depressing shit,” answered Chad. “Anyway, they’re sending a military escort to pick him up and take him back.”
 
“He’s not even a Buck?” asked Forrest, eyebrows arched in surprise.
 
“Guess not,” replied Chad. “He says he is, but doesn’t test. And he’s sure as fuck not knocked up.”
 
Chad silently recalled Stu insisting Dean didn’t smell right. He’d assumed the Stag Buck was dismissive of the new guy out of some uncharacteristic rivalry with the even more hyperkinetic Dean, but it looked like the Stag Buck senses couldn’t be fooled, even if the Navy was.
 
“Fuck man, dude ate half the whole breakfast this morning,” complained Abe. “That’s for REAL Bucks. Bucks knocked up with twins and shit.” Abe hoisted his huge belly, bigger already than those of Bucks further along.

Chad rolled his eyes but Abe had a point. Dean really did eat more than any two Bucks combined, and with that flat belly of his too. Maybe he was just trying to get the look of a knocked up belly going.
 
Jamie came spinning around the corner with the gallon jar of pickles and a spray can of whipped cream, a wide smile on his face. “Get your jocks on, bros!” he said.
 
“Fuck yeah!” said Chad, seeing the pickle jar. “Sunday Stu!”
 
Jamie spun on his heels headed to the gym in the basement of the Home, with Chad and Abe close behind. Forrest tried to catch up, yelling, “What’s Sunday Stu?”
 
“Best day of the week, noob!” yelled Abe, his booming voice reverberating over his shoulder. “Gonna breed a Stag Buck!”

***

Randy woke up to a hungry gurgling deep in his gut. He pressed his palms on his abs and his morning wood rolled over the top of his hands. Fuck, his dick looked huge, all swollen like that. He flexed to make his erection rise and let it slap down on his belly again and again, almost hypnotized by the sight of a fat cock against his growling belly.

When he finally got up out of bed it was near impossible to piss straight, spraying on the sides of the toilet, like his usual aim was completely off. He knew the bathroom well enough to use it blindfolded, having lived in the house all of junior year. But the bowl seemed smaller beneath his dick, as if the proportions of everything had changed overnight. 

It wasn’t just the toilet. Looking in the bathroom mirror his pecs seemed swollen. Everything smelled more potently. Odors he barely noticed were now front and center in his head. The soap, the deodorant which now was repellant. For relief he buried his face in one of the used towels and his nostrils filled with comforting musky scents. He found he could articulate each of them distinctly, Brendan’s face, Matt’s furry ass, Cam’s pits. Holy fuck, Cam’s pits. He was becoming intoxicated by them until he shook himself out of it.

He pulled on a T-shirt and jockstrap, but had to double-check that it was really his jock. The pouch was so confining, like it was two sizes too small. It wasn’t just the semi he was sporting, he'd worn it with hard ons before. His jock just didn’t fit right, and working the taut cotton around his chub, he didn’t see how it ever could.
 
His stomach rumbled again, prompting Randy to eat. He usually wolfed a protein bar on the way to the gym, but his appetite this morning was different. Deeper. He prowled the kitchen for something though he didn’t know what. In the freezer were a dozen frozen burritos, the ones his roommate Cam always ate. He heated them two at a time and ate them straight out of the microwave, standing there until his belly was full. The bloat in his belly felt good.
 
He jogged to the gym, but had to tug at his crotch every block or so, as his heavy package swayed side to side. His dick was big enough for his jock to be snug anyway, but now it threatened to burst free, and the pouch tickled at the sensitive head relentlessly. Fuck it, he thought, reaching down to pull his junk out of the jock to hang free in his loose shorts. God, that feels good.
 
Opening the door to the gym, Randy staggered, hit with a wave of dizzying stimulation as the rank scent of mansweat hit him hard enough to make him groan. Like the bath towel at home, he could articulate the different sources of the sensory assault. What the fuck, he wondered, his head full of impressions of various jocks and bros and trainers, each with their own unique blend of musk.  

He scanned the room and saw every guy as if for the first time. The hair on their chests trapping their sweat, the swells of muscles and the valleys drawing his eyes down their abs, their swivel hips and full packages and sweet round asses that he just wanted to dig into with that deep hunger for something that wasn’t food. 

His balls pulsed and his stomach growled and churned. Even his butthole twitched and puckered and he passed some gas without warning. Fuck, it felt more wet than expected, and he wondered if he’d sharted. He clenched his hole and whatever was there felt clean and good and he wanted to do it again.

“There you are bro,” said Cameron, playfully punching Randy’s shoulder. “Waited for you but it was getting late. Figured you were hungover or had a babe in your room.”
 
Cameron’s touch triggered a full-body wave of stimulation in Randy. His breath seized in his chest and his skin tingled, his cock stiffened to full-on erection and a thick surge of precum stained the front of his gym shorts. His hole flexed and pulsed like he was sharting again, and although it felt good he ran a hand over his crack. Lifting his fingers to his face and inhaling he could tell whatever was going on had no stink, it just smelled clean and natural.
 
“You okay, dude?” asked Cameron, noticing the dazed look on Randy’s face.
 
“Yeah,” muttered Randy. “Let’s make a baby.”

What did he just say? He didn’t know where the words came from, and then they were there, out of his mouth and hanging in the musky air of the gym between them. Fuck, it felt so right.
 
Cameron cocked his head at Randy and asked, “Bro?”

***

Stag Bucks had long baffled evolutionary scientists and other students of The Rut. While Stags breeding Bucks made a perverse sense in roughly approximating traditional male/female reproduction, Stag Bucks defied mammalian convention by performing both reproductive functions. 

This created far more questions than answers. If evolution intended them to be a unisex reproductive successor to the species as some believed, why were there so few Stag Bucks? 

Their rarity made them a compelling and confounding subject of study, for which few trends could be identified. It was only known that Stag Bucks manifested both biological functions and performed both roles with equal ease, and they were wholly irresistible to both Stags and Bucks.
 
Only the second Stag Buck resident in the history of the Venable Home, Stu was most at home in the gym, and spent more time in it than any other two boys combined. There, alone, he could try to clear his head of the scent of all the Bucks at the Home. They smelled good, sure, but the persistent sameness of it wore on him in ways he couldn’t explain. 

The time he put in at the gym showed in a singular physique. Even in a household of young muscle jocks, Stu’s ass was the most perfectly round, his biceps and shoulders the most aesthetically peaked. His full belly was even higher and tighter than others, and his thick pecs even more pronounced than usual for a Buck - or in his case a Stag Buck. 

He’d once been just a slim swimmer, a little more beefy than some. He’d always had a knack for anything physical and gained muscle with surprising ease, but nothing like this before The Rut. He wasn’t bodybuilder big, but with some forethought - Stu’s least exercised muscle - he could imagine it in his future.
 
After his first hour in the gym he paused for a visual inventory in the mirrored wall, running through his poses. He wore just a jockstrap, the most comfortable thing ever invented for a knocked-up jock, even though his Stag-sized cock required a larger than standard pouch. He started with front double biceps, front lat spread and side chest. Fuck yeah, whether it was his Stag chemistry or being knocked up or both, The Rut gave him the best gainz ever. He was about to shift into back double biceps when his nose caught a distinct smell.
 
Pickles.
 
He dropped his pose and inhaled to catch the scent again. Pickles were the one food craving he’d developed since getting knocked up. That sweet briny taste that was only made better by sucking it straight off a thick hard cuke. And there was only one better taste, he thought, and that was pickles with…
 
Shhhhhhhhhkchhhhhhhhh – the sound of whipped cream spray.
 
Fuck, his second-favorite sound after the slosh of his Stag Buck cock in ass lube. 

His cock stiffened and his tits flex involuntarily. It wasn’t just the taste of pickles and cream, which his body craved. It was how they alone wiped his olfactory slate clean, making all those Bucks he was housed with smell almost new again and so fuckable.

He looked frantically around for the source of the sound, his mouth watering and his erection releasing a first gush of Stag lube. 
 
“Hey Stu,” called Jamie from the stairwell. Beside him were Chad, Forrest and Abe, each holding wet, dripping pickles. They all three wore jocks under their pregnant bellies, Abe adding a cut-off football jersey. A gallon jar of pickles was hoisted up onto Abe’s shoulder, one arm raised to hold it in place with one hand.

“Hey Stu, buddy,” said Abe in his gravelly voice. He cupped his packed jock, tinged green and oozing pickle juice. “Want somma this?”
 
“Mmmm,” groaned Stu, nodding as he watched the juice slowly drip in a long stream from Abe’s saturated jock to the gym floor. 

A big smile broke across the Stag Buck’s face as he near staggered to his bros, enticed by the pickles they baited him with as much as the sight of their fawn-filled bellies and the peaking scent of their cocks and asses, the fresh thought of sucking on their man tits, fucking and being fucked till he couldn’t stand.

He wrapped his lips around the tip of Forrest’s pickle, held at his mouth level.

“There you go buddy, just like that,” Abe urged Forrest, holding the younger Buck’s wrist with one hand, running his fingers through the springy brown hair of his head. The gravelly voice of the footballer rolled through Stu, making all the baby hairs on his body stand at attention. “Give it to him like he likes it.”

Forrest worked the pickle back and forth between Stu’s eager lips, slow and then faster, teasing at the back of his throat, making him swallow again and again. As his Adam’s apple bobbed, Chad and Jamie ran their fingers over his lightly perspiring body, feeling his freshly pumped muscles, prying at his hairy Buck ass and sliding hands into his taut jock to wrap fists around his stiff Stag cock.

He bit the pickle in half and gave a quick chew before swallowing hard, then opening his mouth wide. Abe sprayed the cream canister right into Stu’s gaping mouth until he filled the cavity, and then dipped a fresh pickle in, swirling it to break up the fatty taste with sweet acidic juice.

“You like that, Stu buddy?” Abe asked, gliding the pickle back and forth, as Stu nodded. He looked barely aware as Abe grabbed at his solid pec. “You wanna get bred?”

Stu’s eyes rolled back in his head, feeling the cleft of his ass being held open by multiple hands, his lubing hole being fingered, every bro’s scent like new. He nodded Yes, yes, yes.

In this state words were distant and quickly forgotten, but the Stag Buck thought he heard Chad’s voice say something about Sunday Stu rules, tits and ass free for all, and his breath caught quick as a Buck cockhead speared up into his juicy throbbing hole.

***

In her office, Ms. Venable waited impatiently. Idle time was the most insidious of traps.

The military escorts were delayed, lost on their way, per the phone call. Typical masculine inefficiency, she noted, endemic to the institutions they dominated. At least the Stags and Bucks of The Rut had an excuse, in the grip of biological imperative as they were.

She checked over the books, as she did each Sunday. She reviewed the gestation notes for each Buck, as taken by Nurse Leigh, the midwife, so attentive, with her accent and pretty mouth. She’d see before long that a strong hand was more effective than a kind word. And better protection of her own tender feelings, until she’d developed the necessary calluses on her heart. There’d be no gain in developing attachments to the beasts.

Ms. Venable reflected on the cat she had as a girl. It was a precocious type that went into heat before her parents thought to have it neutered, getting loose only to come home carrying an eventual litter of kittens. She’d adored all six of them, naming each, observing character traits and personalities in their little snub noses and milky eyes. She’d been insensible to her own mother’s warnings to not get too close, too affixed, to the kittens. When they were sent to new homes, she felt her own heart wrenched and lessened with each. Later, when the mother cat was finally neutered, she was glad to know she’d be safeguarded from that sort of trickery of feelings again.

For each of the Bucks she maintained communications with the prospective adoptive parents, sending briefings on their progress and confirming details on the expected transfer of newborns. Chad’s would go to his cousins, his parents refusing to have their flesh and blood put in strangers’ hands, which ate into the Home’s finder’s fees. Lane had left entirely, with the Buck that would certainly lose interest once the fawn was delivered. And then the jug-eared Joey followed after him, the two taking with them their fawns and the fees due upon transfer to the adoptive parents. She thanked the foresight of her grandparents and their cleverness in developing contract standards that front-loaded fees, protecting most of the profit even in these awkward situations.

Those ridiculous runaway Bucks. They’d see that the task of raising the resulting brats was a far cry from the animal pleasure of making them. What impetuous fools. Although women had been long regarded as impractical, emotionally mercurial and flighty, it was men who were so easily distracted, so profligate in their wandering attentions. They were such easy willing prey to the vanities rampant in the gender. 

It was not lost on Ms. Venable that in another age she’d have been deemed more likely a resident of such a home than its steel willed matron, as cast by the biology and customs of the day. What a misfortune it would have been. What a waste of her innate talents. If nature, through The Rut, turned the tables, let women off the hook for bearing young, that sat well enough with her. She had a greater role to play than that of slave to bestial cravings, and repugnant bodily functions. This was the work for which she was made.

Recalculating, she noted that the blond’s twins would make up for other losses, being a highly unusual product and demanding unusual fees. And of course, the Stag Buck’s delivery had garnered special interest due to his rare nature. That one would be well worth the cost of a few pickled vegetables. She dared hope he’d be impregnated again, and soon; she could make quite a sum from a few more of his offspring. Even she was not immune, in her own way, to the charms of a Stag Buck. She was simply more judicious in understanding his value, and in the end better able to keep flights of fancy in check, better able to manage herself.

She had to admit that if novel pregnancies were laden with novel costs, there were novel opportunities for profit as well. And if what her network reported was true, there were interesting new developments in The Rut cycle. New Stags and Bucks that did not conform to historic norms, and even the rumored Stag Bull, as it was called in hushed whispers among those who monitored such things.

In the privacy of her office, Ms. Venable allowed the corner of her mouth to turn up into a smile, her dignity intact.

***

On all fours, Stu’s mouth was filled with Abe’s pickle juice-sodden jock, alternating between sucking the sweet slop and the warm meat of the Buck's cocks.  

“Fuck yeah, Stu buddy,” Abe groaned, holding the Stag Buck’s head like a football, guiding him between his own erection and Forrest’s, letting the younger southern Buck dip the jock back in the gallon jar.

At the same time, Jamie and Chad took turns sliding their cocks in and out of Stu’s fuck box, driving into him as much as they could take, getting just to the brink of shooting, then pulling out to give the other a chance. Where some might go competitive, one upping the other, these two built the other up, getting off on the thrill of the other’s pleasure. They might never have known each other if not for The Rut, but they found in each other a unique complement. 

The pleasure of mounting Stu was almost too hard to bear for one of them alone. Mounting other Bucks was one thing, but getting into the hole of a Stag Buck, with his muscular ass milking them as they fucked, his unique mix of pheromones filling their heads, stupefying them.

When Chad couldn’t hold back any more, he ground his hips into Stu, moaning “Fuck yeah, fucking Stu…”. 

Jamie reached up behind him, running his hands over Chad’s muscled back. “Give it to him, bro. Make us a fawn.”

Chad groaned loud as he pumped his Buck load past Stu’s prostate, then sliding slowly back and forth to get it all out. Jamie nuzzled him from behind, licking him and lightly biting his ears.

“First load!” bellowed Abe.

Chad pulled out to make room for Jamie, the next lucky Buck, his semi dropping out of Stu with  a wet smack. Even having just unloaded, he was again mesmerized by the smooth interplay of the Stag Buck’s muscles, and felt certain he’d be up to bang him again soon.

Jamie rode Stu urgently, as driven by the slosh of Chad’s load all around his cock as by the Stag Buck’s grip on his erection. He dropped his weight onto Stu’s sweaty back, the pressure spreading Stu’s strong legs and making him groan with the pleasure of being taken. Jamie’s hands roamed around the tawny skin of Stu’s broad lats, and then down to his pecs.

Fuck, Stu’s pecs were an adventure in themselves, slabs of muscle with dark nipples that responded to touch with an instant hardening. They begged to be held, to be sucked on and milked, and just feeling them got Jamie off, prompting him to nut without warning. Each thrust drove another surge of Buck cum into Stu, who gasped again and again, his solid belly grazing the gym floor, where a pool of clear precum streamed from his twitching Stag Buck cock.

Abe chuckled, glad to see it was nearing his turn. He saved himself for last, but was eager to get into Stu's ass. He nudged Forrest and said, “You’re up!”

The thick southern Buck looked surprised. With his own ample ass and strong Buck scent, he’d been bred often enough, but he’d never been expected to mount another, much less a Stag Buck like Stu.

“Me?” he asked.

“Come on, buddy,” Abe implored with a friendly sneer, cupping Forrest’s fleshy ass cheek and giving it a good jiggle. “Lube him up for big Abe!”

As Forrest mounted Stu, the Stag Buck twitched and looked around. He scented something else, something different, not any of the Bucks around him. In the mix of instincts and impulses in his body and mind, his Stag sense rose up in him, but eased as his Buck ass was teased by the head of Forrest’s cock. Then Abe’s hard thumb filled his mouth, dripping with sticky juice and a spray of cream, and he loosened his sphincter to let his ass be filled.

Forrest gave his first fuck, taking over the ripped body of the magnificent Stag Buck. Chad and Jamie watched on, cheering him as he worked their loads deep into Stu with his own erection. A sly smile crept across his cherubic face as he discovered his instinct and maybe even a talent for mounting another man. He threw his weight hard, forcing a deep satisfied groan out of Stu.

“Come on Forrest, you’re a bro now,” Chad urged, at rest on the floor with Jamie nuzzled up against his chest, their bellies side by side.
Forrest plowed harder, his confidence building, as even Abe slow-clapped with his big mitt hands, shouting “THAT’S. MY. BOY!”

Stu’s ass smacked back and his muscles tensed, as again some new scent cut through the air around him. The Bucks other than Forrest didn’t notice, but every part of Stu’s body tensed, growing harder and more alert, more ready to dominate. Forrest quivered as the Stag Buck’s hole tightened hard, drawing a load out of him to mix with Chad’s and Jamie’s and Stu’s own lube. 

Forrest trembled as he struggled to break free from Stu’s constricting hole. His cheeks flushed scarlet and a sheen of sweat coating his flesh as he stared down at the still stiff arc of his own cock, in disbelief of his own prowess. Yeah he’d be doing this again soon.

The other Bucks applauded Forrest, and Abe licked his lips in anticipation of at last breeding a Stag Buck. He didn’t pay attention to the wild look in Stu’s eyes, so different from his usual affable demeanor, or the way the Stag Buck’s breath came fast and deep, or even how the little hairs sprang to attention on his tan skin.

“Alright!” Abe bellowed, stroking his cock and assuming the position behind the Stag Buck. He ran a hand over Stu’s furry ass, savoring the moment. “It’s breeding season, bros, and we saved the best for last!”

Abe positioned the thick head of his cock at Stu’s well-worked hole, and as he did it closed tight. He stood erect, his shoulders pulled back, his cock harder even than it had been moments ago, and for the first time any of the residents had seen, Stu was almost wholly more Stag than Buck.

***

Brodie could have easily led the way up the path on Mount Cody. He was strong, and his legs steady. But instead of advancing, Brodie trailed behind his pregnant Bucks, at times resting a hand on the small of one or the other’s back to lend balance and support. Joey, more powerful and longer-legged, seemed fine enough, but Lane was smaller, and so far along in his pregnancy, it made Brodie’s back ache to see him struggle. But he was also the most determined to make the hike before giving birth, and his will was stronger in its own way than Brodie’s.

They chose this mount to climb, shaped like a massive gray lightning bolt wedged into the surrounding soil. It was more steep than other geological wonders in the areas, like the Rock abutting the Venable estate, but it also had a more reliably smooth foot-friendly surface, providing for miles of wandering toward its highest peak. 

At the last plateau before the highest peak, the three stopped for a breather. They turned to look to the north at their small town, Cody. They could see the peaks of the college structures, and based on that could make out where their own humble neighborhood was, where they’d made a home together. To the south, they could see the magnetic rock formation near the swimming quarry, and knew that just beyond that was the Venable Home.
 
Lane looked off toward the Home and sighed wistfully. Brodie pulled up close to him, nuzzling the smaller Buck, and asked, “Sorry I took you away?”
 
“Fuck no,” answered Lane. “Just remembering that you did.” 

He turned to face his Stag. They’d been college roommates once. After Lane was sent away, it took Brodie months to find him, leaving college and taking construction work along the way until he landed in Cody. It was funny that in school they were nothing to each other but random assignments, until The Rut gave them their true selves.

Lane pressed his lips to Brodie’s, kissing him softly, and then hard and wet. Brodie met Lane’s tongue with his own, tasting in the sweet saliva of his Buck his own essence that he thought must trace back to his fawn in Lane’s belly. 

He felt a nuzzle in his ear, and turned away from Lane to see Joey’s smiling face. The taller Buck planted his own lips on Brodie’s, thrusting his tongue into the Stag’s open mouth. Brodie eagerly reciprocated, meeting Joey’s tongue with his own. Joey gave one more lick and turned Brodie’s head back to Lane for another kiss with the smaller Buck.
 
“Mmmm, how’d I get so lucky,” Brodie asked between kisses, sandwiched between the pregnant Bucks. He pressed his palms on each of their bellies and Joey gasped.
 
“Did you feel him kick?” Joey asked, putting his own hand over Brodie’s to feel the next movement.
 
“He knows his daddy,” Brodie said, which made Joey smile and mist up. “I don’t care who put him in you,” Brodie continued. “He’s mine now.”
 
Joey wove his fingers into Brodie’s brown curls and pulled his head back for another kiss, while Lane hugged his back. They stood in the morning sun until they grew restless.
 
“It’s just a little ways to the top,” Joey said, nodding to the peak. 

“Are you guys good?” Brodie asked. “Do you need to go back to the car?”
 
“Fuck no,” said Lane. “I’m going all the way.”
 
“I want to see what’s next,” added Joey.
 
Brodie smiled, filled with warmth for his fawn-laden Bucks, and nodded. “Me too.”

Together they walked to the peak and whatever came after it.

***

In his room, Dean was up on hands and knees, swaying on his bed. The escorts would be there soon to take him back to the Navy and its everyday drab sameness. But he could barely think of that, breathing heavily and increasingly sweating. 
 
“I’m a Buck,” he grunted through gritted teeth, swaying back and forth. “I’m a Buck.”
 
A pool of perspiration collected in the tight small of his back, running down from his long lean trap muscles, streaming down his athletic arms and dripping into the sheets as his slim hips writhed and his ass pucker pulsated. His flat belly rippled and his stomach gurgled. 
 
“I’m. A. Buck.” he said more intently.
 
His ass spasmed and he felt something slick and wet ooze down from his hole to drip off his balls onto the mattress below. His breathing became more rapid and he shuddered, losing most sense of himself and his life before then.
 
Still on hands and knees, he became very still, braced himself and yelled out a single sound: “STUUUUUUUU!!!!”
 
Two minutes later his door burst open, propelled by a frantic Stu. He was naked, his own cock and ass smeared with lube from the fuckfest in the gym. He looked bigger than he had earlier, his muscles more swollen, his gaze more intent. His eyes locked on Dean’s upturned ass, to the exclusion of all else.
 
“Fuuuuuck,” groaned Stu. His cock was near painfully rigid and swollen as he neared the new Buck. He was all Stag now, all animal, with only one purpose: to breed Dean, his new Buck, and the only relief for his aching cock was deep in that hungry hole.  
 
“Whoa,” said Jamie, hurriedly following Stu, with Chad, Forrest and Abe piling in after him.
 
Stu grabbed at Dean’s hips and jerked them back, dropping the Navy boy’s chest to his belly with a grunt. He plied at the plush ass cheeks to expose the wet hole that begged for his cock. He positioned his fat Stag erection at it, almost panting in anticipation.
 
“Stuuuuu,” moaned Dean, arching his back and spreading his thighs to offer his ass up.
 
“Nooooo!” groaned Abe, his jock still oozing pickle juice. “I was so close! STU! BRO!!!”

Stu didn’t hear the frustrated footballer, or any of the other boys. In the hierarchy of holes that draw a Stag, there is none that compares to a fresh virgin Buck in his first season, and Stu was completely oblivious to anything around him but the opportunity to breed.

“Sorry man,” Chad laughed, nearly doubled over. They’d each dumped a load in Stu, but for poor Abe. “Maybe next week. If you can pry your boy off the new Buck.”

Stu began the long sink into Dean, emitting a deep sigh until he hit the base. There was nothing on earth like the feel of Stag cock in a fresh Buck's hole. He quivered and slid back to roll into a hard fuck. Dean thrust his hips back to meet him, gasping in relief at every hit. As they slammed together they found their breeding rhythm, their bodies locked in a tidal flow together.

Nothing remained of Stu’s puppydog nature, only a beast’s aggression in taking what was his. All the muscles in his body swelled, and even his own pregnant belly seemed to pulse as his heavy balls slapped against the Buck’s ass. Dean nearly howled as he was filled with the one thing on Earth he needed, more than desired.
 
“Dean’s not even a Buck!” complained Abe.
 
“Looks like he is after all,” answered Chad, hypnotized by Stu’s hard, rolling fuck. “Just came on a little bumpy, I guess.”

Though he and Forrest and Jamie had all blown their loads just minutes earlier, the pheromone stew in the room of Stag and Buck charged them up, stiffening their cocks and making them salivate for more as their asses self lubed.
 
“It’s so hot,” whispered Forrest. “He’s really going to breed him.”
 
“It’s how we all got here,” said Jamie. “But yeah… so fucking hot.”
 
“Fuck it,” bellowed Abe, jerking open his sticky jock. “I’m going in!”
 
He pulled the straps down over his brawny thighs, dropped the jock to the floor, and stripped off his football jersey. His full, exposed belly was taut, filled with twin fawns, and his thick cock pressed up against it in a rigid curve.

“You can’t –” Jamie began as he saw Abe pull up behind Stu, guiding his erection between the rutting Stag Buck’s round, furry cheeks. Stu registered it, just barely, and glanced over his shoulder with equal parts lust and territorial fury.

“I guess he can,” Chad shrugged, wrapping a hand around Jamie’s gymnast shoulder. And leave it to Abe to be the one to mount a Stag Buck in rut, he almost said out loud.

“HOLY FUCK!” shouted Abe, pushing his cock up into Stu’s tight pucker, wet with his own natural lube and three loads of Buck cum. Stu gasped as his sphincter was pried open, and Abe’s lips twitched as they turned up into a sideways smile of deepening pleasure. He gasped as his cock was taken over by Stu’s ass. “I never knew...”

Stu’s hips rolled into the new Buck, to drive as deep as he could, and slammed back against Abe to take the big blond’s erection deep in full. 

“Oh baby,” Abe groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head, lost in bliss, wrapping his beefy arms around the rolling, mounded muscle of Stu’s body, cupping the bodybuilder’s strong, swollen tits.  “He’s milking me!”

That fucking Stu, thought Chad, shaking his head, but still mesmerized by the most intense fuck he’d ever seen. Stu’s body was sculpture in motion, dominating both the flat-bellied Buck and the knocked-up football player. He always looked amazing, but now being mounted while in true rut, fathering a fawn in Dean, he was more than just a Stag or Buck. He was a true Stag Buck.

Abe held on with all his strength, sure that even if he went into labor nothing would stop him from dumping his full load into the hottest thing he’d ever seen. Whatever life would have brought him without The Rut, it couldn’t have been better than this.

Forrest watched as Abe’s big pale asscheeks opened and closed with each pump, the cleft that exposed his breeding hole opening and closing. He pulled up behind Abe and pressed his erection into the deep dripping hole in the man-mountain’s beefy ass. Finding only token resistance, he slid all the ways in, holding onto the footballer by his hips. 

“Fuck train!” exclaimed Chad, jumping forward to take a spot behind Forrest, plunging his cock into the plush rear of the Southern Buck. With his last semblance of restraint, he turned to Jamie and said, “Get in me, man.”

Jamie sidled up behind Chad and wrapped his arm around the taller bro’s thick, furry chest as he slid his erection up into the wetness of his hole. Jamie’s face pressed into Chad’s broad, muscular back, and in his heart he knew that even in this crazy stew of Stags and Bucks, this was where he most wanted to be.

Abe took sweet delight in the train of Bucks fucking to his rear, plowing up into one another in a chain, his own cock in a Stag Buck who was in turn making a fawn in a fresh new Buck. 

“Oh fuck baby, yeah, take that baby-making cock,” Abe roared.

The very idea of planting a baby up in Stu made Abe’s cock tickle, and he thrust harder, triggering Stu. The Stag Buck gasped and whimpered as a torrent of cum surged into Dean through his meaty erection. In doing so, Stu fucked Dean’s load out of him, his first as a Buck, a pleasure more intense than any he’d known before The Rut.

Stu grunted as the confounding biology of both Stag and Buck worked together in him, his cock being milked by Dean, his whole clamped on Abe’s erection. 

“Oh… ohhhhhhh,” moaned Abe, losing it and dumping his load into Stu.

His contracting sphincter started a chain reaction, squeezing Forrest’s cock first, shooting his Buck load into the big blond. Chad in turn was caught by the wave of climax, his furry chest heaving as he shot into Forrest’s ample rear, and that pulled Jamie’s cumming erection deeper inside of him. 

Though Abe and every Buck behind him were spent, Stu’s Stag breeding had barely begun. His muscles locked up, except for his grinding hips as his balls pumped surge after surge of fertile baby-making cum into Dean. 
 
Abe shifted from orgasmic high to contorting, as he tried to break free from Stu’s sphincter, relentlessly milking his hypersensitive cock. He twisted frantically to pry his dick loose, sending Forrest, Chad and Jamie sprawling to the floor behind him.
 
“Oh fuck,” begged Abe, trembling from head to toe. “Make him stop!”
 
No one made a move. Beyond the hypnotic spell that froze them in place, everyone knew there was no stopping a Stag in the climax of breeding. “Not even with a crowbar,” Chad mouthed, in amazement. Abe’s cock was locked in Stu for the five minutes or more of his unloading, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.
 
But as Stu ground his load even deeper into Dean, the pheromone flood of breeding cum scent got to Abe. His nostrils flared and his whole body responded with conflicting desires to dominate and to be dominated. His cock swelled back to full hardness, he wrapped his arms around Stu’s muscle- and milk-swollen chest and started pounding him again.
 
“Oh baby,” Abe growled, pummeling Stu. “Take it, TAKE IT! TAKE THAT BABY MAKER IN YOUR STAG HOLE!”
 
“Ever seen this before?” Jamie asked Chad, groping at his second-wind erection. 
 
“Fuck no,” mumbled Chad, his own cock hard stiffening yet again. Despite himself, it was hard to not get off on the illusion of Abe fucking a baby into a Stag ass.
 
Abe grunted hard and blasted another load into Stu, roaring “TOUCHDOWN, BABY! TOUCHDOWN!”

Abe’s dropped his weight onto Stu, and in turn Dean, burying him under their combined pregnant muscled mass.
 
Stu giggled and tenderly kissed Dean’s neck and head, his semi still oozing inside his new Buck’s cum-filled hole. He didn’t want his cock ever to do anything but this. Breeding bro holes was the reason he was here, and filling them with his fawns.

“You ever have a load that big in you?” Abe asked, mussing the Stag Buck’s sweaty hair in a gesture at once affectionate and cocky.
 
“Get this asshole off me,” Stu laughed, trying to shake off Abe as he snuggled his new Buck.
 
Chad and Jamie pulled Abe up to his feet, his spent cock smacking as it pulled out of Stu. He staggered backward, and Stu followed, leaving Dean to roll onto his back, near laughing with pleasure, exposing his oozing but not yet spent erection.

“Two fucking loads in a Stag Buck! CRUSHED IT!” Abe bragged, raising his powerful arms in triumph. “Bros, did you fucking SEE that?”
 
“I saw you about get killed,” laughed Chad, slapping Abe on his sweaty shoulder.
 
“I swear, it’s like I made that baby,” Abe said, pointing at Dean’s exposed belly. “It was like fucking LIGHTNING man, right out of my balls, through Stu, into that Buck.”
 
“Kind of like we all did,” said Jamie. “We were all in Stu when it happened.”
 
“Wow,” whispered Forrest, eyeing Dean’s growing erection. “Now what?”
 
Stu lay on the bed beside Dean, resting a hand on the Buck’s freshly filled belly, where his fawn would take hold and grow. He giggled with post-breeding satisfaction.

“I know,” he said. “Let’s fuck!”

- END -

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The Rut is dedicated to a4f101, aka UnderTheMattress, aka ThePlaybro.

Please send your comments, suggestions, questions and ideas to [email protected].