Oh, hello there! I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. Of course I can’t actually see you, being that you’re not real. Sorry, I know this is weird, but you are part of my incredibly active imagination. You see, I like to make believe that there are a bunch of people around me all the time, watching me, keeping an eye on everything I do.
Why, you ask? Well the better question is ‘why don’t you already know since you’re part of my imagination’? Just kidding. I just think it’s boring to have someone around who already knows everything about me, so it’s better off that you have your own experiences, and then you can use those to make observations about me.
How rude of me though, I haven’t even told you my name yet. My friends call me Dvalinn. That’s De-va-lynn. I am a caribou. A caribou male to be specific. I turned 19 years old about 3 months back, and I’m… well maybe I shouldn’t overwhelm you with exposition. Let’s just say I live a very interesting life, and that I would like to share it with you.
Before I do, how about I give you a name? Something to address you by when I need to explain something. How about Francis? You don’t like that? Well what about York? That bad too? Morgan? No go on that too, huh… Well I got to call you something, so I’ll just call you Specs for now.
With that out of the way, let’s take a look at an average day in my life. The day I am about to have is about as ‘normal’ as it comes with me. No special events planned or anything at least, so if something amazing happens then it will be a surprise to the both of us.
With my day being as normal as it is, it starts off with me, still partially asleep, feeling something poking at my face. I don’t even have to open my eyes to know that it is a cock tapping at my muzzle.
I try to resist it at first, but unfortunately it is more persistent than I am resilient. So I open my eyes, and give a disgruntled glare at the large male in front of me.
“Okay, I’m awake…” I say, before getting a few more pecks from the beak of a rooster standing in front of my face.
“I said I’m awake Henry, geez.” This is Henry, my pet lakenvelder chicken, which is a breed that is black from the neck up, and white from the shoulders down. He was a gift given to me on my last birthday by my Mother to be used as an alarm cock, and I’m still getting used to him. When she had told me that a rooster would help me not to oversleep anymore, I had thought it meant that it would just crow to get me awake in the morning, but I’ve come to learn that if I don’t wake up to that, Henry is trained to take more drastic measures to ensure I’m awake when she wants me to be.
It’s not that I have a habit of sleeping in. I just sometimes come home late and tired, and then end up sleeping til noon. My Mother doesn’t mind me coming home when I want, I am an adult after all, but she can’t stand me being lazy.
Last night was rough though. A girl got a hold of me and kept me tied up until it got really late. It was past midnight before I was able to slump into my bed. Not that I minded hanging out with her, but this staying out late and waking up early left me feeling groggy. “I really need to talk with Freya later…” I say to myself as I get up, giving Henry a pat on the head as I make my way to the bathroom.
Stepping inside, the first thing I do is approach the sink and look into the mirror above it. I, of course, saw myself in it, wearing the clothes I fell into bed wearing last night. What I had on allowed me to see most of my body, hardly hiding a thing with the form fitting arm length gloves, thigh high socks, and leather collar I was wearing, each the same matching shade of dark green. If not for it hiding inside its fleshy sheath, I would be able to say hello to my deer dick for my lack of clothing.
This is normal for me though, as I really don’t like being covered up by wool or leather. I enjoy the feeling of air as it hits my body, of eyes watching me with attention as I go down a street, though I understand that most people don’t. I also like looking at myself, and admiring the cute deer looking back at me. That slender form, those shapely hips, the adorable face with the dark brown muzzle. About the only thing I don’t like about myself is that I’m not very muscular.
I’m not fat, but for some reason I just can’t seem to develop the kind of muscle definition that I see on some other males. I’ve tried running and lifting weights, but I don’t have the stamina for that kind of exercise, and end up tiring out easily. Trust me, I know this too well, as when I do start to form even the slightest bit of pudge on my belly, my Mother makes me do laps and push-ups until I’m left gasping. She is pretty strict about my health, but that’s because… well I suppose that you’ll find out about her soon enough.
For right now though, I just want to get out of these dirty clothes, and so I remove each boot and glove, peeling them off each appendage and tossing them into a hamper, leaving on only the collar around my neck as I hop into the shower, turn on the shower, and get to work scrubbing my body. With a rag and a bar of soap, I dig into my fur vigorously, doing my best to turn myself into a giant monster of suds and bubbles, paying extra special attention to my ‘not so private’ private areas, as well as the inside of my collar to make sure that both it and my throat are scrubbed clean.
The rubbing, especially in my more sensitive spots, caused my body to react, and it didn’t take long for my penis to start poking out from its hiding spot. It was trying to get hard, but the warm water pouring down upon me kept the muscles inside it from swelling to solidity. With it hanging out though, I put down the soap bar in my hand and grabbed it by its pointed head, pulling it out till it stretched tight. This part of me needs extra attention when it came to cleaning, and so leaning my back against one of the corners of the shower, I place the rag in my hand against it and begin.
I always love rubbing this spot. The feeling of something moving along it, up and down, side to side, touching the flesh in a pleasure-inducing pattern. If I could, I would probably stay in the shower all day to make sure the partially stiff appendage got cleaned thoroughly, but Mother would not be happy with me if I did that. Still, I couldn’t help but indulge myself for a little while. The feel of warmth covering my body, of steam entering my lungs, and the elating sensation of sensitive flesh being touched. If I could form an erection, it would be an easy task to shoot off a spurt of jism, but as romanticized and erotic I made the conditions out to be, I couldn’t quite reach the point of release.
At least not before I heard a tapping at the shower’s glass door. Did I mention that Henry keeps track of my schedule too? Gosh, you know you’re at the bottom of the barrel when a bird dictates your daily life. I could hear his impatient baks as I tried to finish myself off, but of course the hot water kept me from getting anywhere close. It sucks, but my mornings were not exactly my own.
So with my penis polished to a pristine sheen, or as polished as skin can be, I left the shower to receive a few taps at my ankles from Henry, telling me that I am a few minutes behind schedule, and that I needed to pick up the pace. The next step isn’t as time consuming as the shower though. I grab a towel to dry off my fur, then grab a toothbrush and give my teeth a good scrub.
After that, I make one more trip to my room in order to grab replacements for the clothing I tossed in the hamper. I’ve got a whole dresser full of matching green fingerless gloves and socks cut to let my toes and hoof pads poke out, so it doesn’t take but a minute for me to get dress when all I have to do is pull out a pair of each. Once I slid those on, my morning preparations are done, and I leave my bedroom, with Henry close behind.
“Good morning, honey.” I hear the moment my hoof touches the floor outside my room. The greeting is coming from a doe standing in front of a heated stove. My room is directly connected to the kitchen you see, but that isn’t really important right now. What is important is that this doe is my Mom, and right now it looks like she’s making several stacks of pancakes.The sight of those saucers of bread and the smell of butter and hot syrup causes my hooves to move faster.
Going to the kitchen counter, I grab a cup and dip it into a bag of corn place on the counter top. Doing this, I scoop up a bunch of kernels, and pour it into a bowl on the floor. This gets Henry off my heels, and gives me freedom from his tyrannical pecking. With him out of the way, I go behind my Mom and give her a quick peck of my own onto her cheek.
“Morning, Mom.” I say before taking my seat at the table, watching eagerly as she makes breakfast. My Mom is a fairly attractive doe, I mean if you were to ask about her. She is a light brown deer with a white strip of fur that starts at her jaw, travels down her neck, over her chest and stomach, and ends between her legs. Like myself, she doesn’t really like wearing too much, and at the moment she is only wearing a white apron and her own collar, which is a nice shade of pink.
You might think it’s weird that we are both so… umm... open with our bodies while in the same household, but we hardly really notice it. To us, being naked around each other is the same as other families being fully clothed. Being around her like this doesn’t even get me aroused, like you might think, as I’m used to seeing her form. Besides, if I were to get a stiffy at the table, I would be sure to hear it from Mother.
And as if that summoned her, my Mother entered the kitchen to join with me and Mom. Oh, I guess I forgot to explain. I actually have two female parents, one my natural birth Mother and the other her equine owner. My ‘Mother’ is a crystal mare, a unicorn at that. She has shimmering violet fur and skin, as well as purple eyes, and long blue hair. Unlike most unicorns I’ve seen though, her horn didn’t end in a point, but instead was a flat stump atop her head. I of course know how it had gotten that way, as I know well of the unpleasantness that were caused by caribou in the past, but I don’t know why she kept it that way after they were defeated. I suppose it was just a personal choice, as she always told me there was nothing she needed to do that she couldn’t do without it.
Anyway, I was raised by the both of them since I was born, and they both took different roles in my upbringing. My Mom was the one who took care of me directly, feeding me, bathing me, making sure the house was clean and acting as one would think a woman should as a parental figure. My Mother on the other hand, was the one who provided discipline, not only to me, but my Mom as well. She was the one who held this family together, and made sure that neither of us fell too far into our ‘caribou instincts’, as she liked to call them. That meant acting too heavily on our sexual urges, which I’ll admit does take some restraint at times. Before you get some bad ideas about my Mother though, she isn’t trying to suppress those urges altogether. Even she understands that it is a lesson in futility when it comes to not just caribou, but any living creature. She just wants us to express it in ways that are safe and appropriate, at least for whatever situation we are in.
“Morning, Runa…” Mother says, lazily shuffling into the dining area wearing only a house robe and a pair of slippers.
“Good morning, Mistress.” Mom says in return, sliding the last of her pancakes into a plate already full of them. “Did you have a rough night?”
Mother didn’t answer as she slowly lowered herself into a seat, directing her eyes at me. “And good morning, Dvalinn.”
I bring my hands together on top of the table in front of me and look down at them. Mother wasn’t expressing anger, but she made it clear that I was the most important subject in the room to her. The hello to Mom was just a formality. “Good morning, Mother.” I say, knowing something unavoidable was coming. “You are looking as lovely as always.”
“Save it.” she replies, grasping her head. It looked like she was having a migraine, and judging by how tired she looked, it was brought on by a lack of sleep. “When did you get in last night?”
“Last night?” I say, understanding immediately that this had to do with how late it was by the time I made it home. Seems that Mother wasn’t as okay with my late hours as I had assumed. “I’m not exactly sure, Mother…”
“Was it after midnight?” She questioned, already knowing the answer.
There was no point in lying to her about it, so I said “Yes…” in a low, but audible tone.
Mom sat a plate of pancakes in front of Mother, along with a set of silverware, a bowl of maple syrup, and a cup of piping hot, pitch black coffee, Before saying anything else, Mother grabbed the cup, and chugged the scalding beverage down without so much of a second thought. She was doing it to be intimidating, and watching her do something like that without stopping or yelling in pain, it honestly was a little bit.
“I’m sorry Mother, but Freya caught me last night and-”
Mother slammed her coffee mug down on the table at the same time Mom set my plate in front of me, showing just how quickly she could down the well over 100 degree coffee. “That girl needs a chastity belt locked around her waist.” She stated, picking up her fork in hand. “She goes around snatching up any boy who won’t outright tell her no, and ends up keeping them all hours of the night.”
“Well it’s not entirely her fault Mother,” I say, twiddling my thumbs, “I did agree to what she wanted…”
“Of course you did.” said Mother knowingly as she poured her syrup onto her plate, “Because you are a sweet, naive boy who’s eager to please, and she knows that.”
It’s not that I don’t understand where my Mother is coming from. She just doesn’t want me doing something stupid for the sake of sex. If you know anything about caribou you know that it is very possible for such a thing to happen. For all I know, I might be trying to fuck my Mom over that hot stove right now if not for Mother's guidance. Because of her, though, not only do I not have sexual thoughts about Mom at all, but I am more aware of times when my deerish sexuality could get me into serious trouble.
Before saying another word, she stabbed her food with the fork she held, and picked up one of the cakes to take a huge bite out of it. “And I knew you had to have been out with someone like her,” She says with a mouth full of cooked dough, “But you know the rules. If anyone in this household is going to be out till after dark, they need to make sure somepony knows where they are.”
“I’m sorry, Mother, you’re right. If I was going to stay out late I could have at least told you, so you didn’t have to worry.” I answer, understanding that Mother is only upset because she is protective of me. Perhaps even possessive of me, but it is nice to know that she cares.
“Then you agree that this is a punishable transgression?” she asks, gulping down the mouthful she held in her muzzle.
“Yes, Mother…” I say with a bit of resignation. I have to admit, I do feel bad for making her worry. She obviously stayed up later than usual wondering when I would be getting home, and it could have all been avoided. It was enough for me to not have touched my food yet, as a slight bit of guilt ran over me for what I had done, if unintended.
Hearing my acceptance, Mother turned her eyes to Mom, waiting for her to finish setting the table. Once she was done though, she quickly said, “Runa, be a dear and fetch me my switch.” before she could take her seat.
Mom froze on spot, and then headed out of the kitchen without anymore than a “Yes mistress, right away”.
“As for you,” she says, shifting her attention back to me, “You know the position, so you better get into it before she gets back.”
Haven’t even gotten a bite of my breakfast, and I was getting punished. Fair was fair though, as in my Mother’s, there were a strict set of rules. Things like letting people know that you would be out late, no yelling in the house, make sure to finish all your daily chores. All the rules are made with the intent of keeping a happy and orderly household, and when someone disrupted that order, they got punished for it. I get out of my seat, go to the one side of the square table devoid of food, and place my hands palm down upon it. Thus supported, I bend forward, standing on my tippy hooves so my rump is lifted up as high as I can get it.
“That’s a good boy.” Mother says pleased, evacuating her own chair to join me. She goes directly behind me, and without so much of a warning, she pinches my plump ass hard. I let out a small sound of discomfort through my gritted teeth. “Oh, suck it up.” My Mother scolds with a tug. “You know much worse is coming.”
And come it did, as my Mom rejoined us, carrying with her the object of my discipline. In her hands was a finely whittled oaken stick, carved down to a slim cylinder, with a point on one end, and a leather grip handle on the other. The length of the wood had been sanded down to smoothness, and covered with a coat of varnish to give it a shiny brown hue. I had met with this device many times in my life, and to this day every sting I had felt from it had left a lasting memory. Now it was time for a new addition to the section of my mind reserved for pain.
As Mom present the switch to Mother, with head bowed and arms fully extended as the item rests it’s end in her opened palms, Mother takes it up and slaps it down on the table in right next to my hand. The crack of wood against wood stings my ear a little, and I can feel the force of the impact through my glove.
“How many?” she asks me, allow me to be the decider of how severe my punishment will be.
“F-five.” I say with both fear and certainty, knowing that answering in a questioning tone would only award me more strikes.
“Very well, but you had better keep still and quiet.” She says, bringing the stick to her lips to run her tongue across its length. I don’t know how you think about your Mother, Specs, but if you ever assumed that she was a sadist, then let me tell you… she has nothing on mine.
I am given a moment of silence before she starts, a mere instance to think about what I did, and of what was to come. This made the tension in the room heavy, and caused my boyish body to tremble in anticipation. I try to hold myself together, but I can’t help but twitch with my Mother looming over my exposed backside, waiting for the moment she felt would be best to-
“SNAP!” The sting entered my consciousness, and I held back the urge to yelp with every ounce of will I had in me. She had connected with both of my cheeks, the impact hitting each at exactly the same time, which made them both hurt with equal intensity. As I said before, Mother is the disciplinarian of the family, and she is a master of her craft.
“Snap!” Another hit, this time lighter, but all the same more painful, as she managed to perfectly strike me in the exact same, already sore spot. This causes me to bow my head a little, humbled by the entity known as pain, and the dominating presence it had throughout my body. Still, I am managing to obey Mother’s rules, and stay as quiet as one could be under these circumstances, while maintaining my posture and position. Mother might have been pain’s mistress, but she had trained me well in the art of endurance.
“Snap!” She struck, this time aiming for my left cheek, followed up by another “Snap!” to my right. Within four strikes, she had made my bottom into a patch of soreness, aiming for spots that would cover a wide area with the small number allotted to her. I would be lying if I said this wasn’t making my eyes water a bit, and that I wished I had something to bite down on to focus off the pain. Worse yet though, was the understanding that there was one strike left, and that Mother’s understanding of agony was far beyond that of mere mares.
For this one, I simply had to look back, to see what she had planned for my firm hinney, and that’s when I see that she was holding the rod in a perfectly vertical pose. I knew instantly her intent, and knew that the archive in my mind was about to receive its newest ‘most frequently read’ addition to it.
Mother sends the rod downwards, and it leaves my sight for just a split second before my other senses register it instead. With a final “Snap!”, she land the tip of the switch squarely on my tight, pert hole, landing it there with barely a touch of the mounds of male meat surrounding it. This was enough to make my knees buckle slightly, and force a deep moan out from my muzzle. With all my training, Mother still knew what it would take to make me howl when she wanted me too.
“Very good.” Mother said, stepping away from my battered butt, and allowing Mom to take her place, fully prepared with some soothing lotion that was kept on hand for these kinds of events. She takes no time applying it to my skin, and the cool feel of it on my flogged flesh feels wonderful. The sensation of pain followed by instant relief was amazing in its own way, and as embarrassed as I am to say it, has its own erotic affect on me. As Mom covers my ass with the cream, I can feel my dick slide out of its sheath, happily greeting the world as it goes to full stiffness.
Of course, Mother knows about this little quirk of mine, and is prepared to deal with it in her own way. As I lay there, hunched over the table, my body feeling an array of painful and pleasurable sensations at the same time, she takes this moment of vulnerability, and grabs my shaft without hesitation.
“As for your real punishment,” she says, flipping a ring with her free thumb, then catching it in in midair. “You are going to be restricted from coming for the rest of the day.” With the grace of a professional domie, Mother glides the ring around my penis without so much as nicking a single part of its skin until the metal ring presses the base of my crotch.
Once in place, the ring lights up, and I feel a familiar magic flow into my defenseless dick. The spell in the ring causes my naughty appendage to bulge out more than usual, becoming plump and rigid. So much so that the ring tightly grips around it, and in the process clutches down on my urethra till the sperm tube is blocked. Now in place, I would be stuck with a permanent erection, while unable to release so much as the smallest drop of cum, no matter how hard I tried to pleasure myself, or others tried for me. It was one of Mother’s most diabolical toys, one among a long list of them that she had acquired from who knew where.
“I’ll remove it this evening when you come home… on time.” Mother stressed the last part of her promise, making sure I knew that she would only keep it if I didn’t break curfew. With that said, she grabbed her plate of pancakes and headed off to the living area. “Now eat up and run along. I’m sure you have a busy day with Eadgil ahead of you, and that caribou gets so antsy when you’re late. I don’t need him knocking down my door again wondering what’s keeping his prized pupil from attending his rune studies.”
Mother left the room after giving her final words, leaving me and Mom alone to tend to my lashes and finish our meals. I really must have upset her by not reporting in last night if she wasn’t going to take part in breakfast with us. I’ll have to give her a proper apology later…
After eating up and saying my goodbyes to my parents, it is now time I headed off to town. I live near a village named Dickicht, and as my Mother said, I have a meeting with my tutor to attend. I’d love to show you more, Specs, but for right now I really have to go. You’re welcome to follow if you want, but it’s a bit of a hike to get to town. Hope you don’t mind a little wait before we continue.
Author's Note
Another week, and another story, this time introducing a new character for FoE: Dvalinn. I am hoping to explore a bit of what it is like to be a caribou in the post fall environment, and specifically what it is to be a stag who wishes to stray from the traditional caribou male role.
This is a bit of a "for fun" project, and will be something I will write more on over time, as I wish to get back to my EqTS setting for a while. That being said, if you are interested in Dvalinn, or the other caribou of Dickicht, then feel free to leave a comment requesting more to encourage me to get back to him sooner.
