Cumming Out
“I just don’t know,” Caramel said nervously to Big Mac. “I mean, what do I tell them?”
“Just say that it’s been a long time comin’, and that they need to accept that which is there,” Big Macintosh said in his soothing voice. “They can’t change it, and it is what is.”
“They’ll be so disappointed, though,” Caramel whined in a dishearten way. “What if they get angry? You know how old fashioned my dad is, he might even hurt me!”
Big Mac patted Caramel on the back. “Just come straight out and tell them. That’s how Ah did it a few months back when the problem arose for me.”
Caramel smiled weakly, feeling slightly more confident. “Alright, that takes care of how to tell them about my report card. Now, how do I tell them I’m gay?”
Big Mac’s eyes widened. “Uh, I’m not meaning any offense to your folks or nothin’, but they don’t seem like the type to take that news too well without killin’ you. Ah’d hold off on that one for a while.”
Caramel sighed. “I guess you’re right. Anyway, I gotta trot. See yah, Big Mac!”
“Eeyup,” Big Mac said as a farewell, and Caramel trotted off towards his home. The two teens were both in the same high school class, and poor Caramel didn’t do quite as well in math as he had hoped. His parents were highly ambitious, which is the nice way of saying that they were complete hard asses, were most likely not going to take the news well.
“Damn Big Mac doing differential calculus and getting perfect grades,” Caramel muttered under his breath. “Him and his fancy mathematics...”
He had arrived to his home, which was a little two bedroom cottage close to Sugarcube Corner, the sweetshop in the middle of town run by the newly wedded Cake couple.
Caramel opened the door, report card in mouth. His father, a grizzled grey stallion with a buzz cut, was where he usually was: At the window with a telescope, looking off in the direction of the griffon kingdom boundaries.
“Damn communist birds think that they can just live so close to the border without anypony suspecting them,” the stallion grumbled. “Well, I haven’t forgotten The War! We toppled Griffony, and we’re heading for Stalliongrad next!”
“Hey, dad...” Caramel said in a dodgy sort of tone. “How’s the communist hunt going?”
“Poorly.” The earth pony trotted over to the nearby lamp stand, where a smoking cigar lay out. He took it in his mouth, and inhaled a large puff of the bitter smoke. It was a flavored cigar you see. Like any self-respecting war veteran, Caramel’s father smoked only the bitterest of flavored cigars: Horseradish.
“Well, sorry to here that. Now, in comparison to not catching any commies, doesn’t me failing math not look so bad?” Caramel hastily dropped his report card in front of his father, and then sprinted away as fast as he could.
“HOLD YER FLANKS, BOY!” Caramel stopped in mid gallop, and tripped on the carpet. However, he was in such a position that gravity dragged him to the ground. Fortunately, his face broke his fall. Unfortunately, the fall broke his face.
His father glowered down at him. “You failed math? What’s that all about?”
“It was just a few tests, I can retake them—”
“I’m not sure you understand,” his father was getting dangerously close to Caramel’s bruised face, the stink of horseradish assaulting the teenaged colt’s nostrils. “In war, there are no ‘retakes’! One wel placed arrow from one of those damn Griffons, and you’re dead!”
Well, good thing this isn’t war, you crazy war vet, Caramel thought to himself.
“What did you just think?” Caramel’s dad shouted, spit flying all over his son’s face.
“Nothing!” Hastily, Caramel shot back to his hooves and retreated to his room.
“And don’t come out until you’ve managed to get some respect into yourself!” he heard the gruff voice shout after him.
“You really should lay off him, dear, the poor colt can only take so much,” came Caramel’s mother’s voice. Caramel himself decided to listen to the conversation from behind his door to see where it was going to take him.
“If I lay off anypony, they’ll just be scuttling over to join the griffs! Is that want you want?”
“No, dear...”
“Good! As long as we’re talking about the boy, did you see there’s an opening for a helper at Sugarcube Corner? Sure, it’s a bit fruity, but the colt can make some mean caramels. He should go work there!”
“I think that nice Bon Bon girl got the job, actually?”
“What? That queer?”
“Now, just because she’s a filly fooler doesn’t make her any less good at making sweets. I know for a fact that you love her candies, she used to sell them from a little stand when she was younger.”
“I suppose so. Just as long as she isn’t doing anything disgusting like slobbering over her marefriend at work. I want to keep the gay out of my candies!” Caramel swallowed hard.
“I don’t want you scaring her away, you hear? Keep that talk to yourself when you go to the Corner.”
“Yeah, all right. Which brings me to my next point: Caramel needs to get himself a lady friend! If he wasn’t mine son, I’d start to suspect that he was going queer on me!”
Caramel shut his door after that. He didn’t need to hear what was coming next. He needed to let his frustration out. So, he stalked over to his closet, opened the door, and slid inside. Closing it so that just a bit of light shone though, he dug underneath some rain gear to pull out his issue of last months “Hottest Stallions”.
Spinning through the pages, he came to rest on a royal guard who was in the midst of climax. Caramel felt himself gaining an erection, the sexy sight before him being quite arousing. He placed a hoof on his penis as he flipped to the next page.
The next picture detailed an ochre-yellow pony presenting his plot, with a little “whoops-you-caught-me” expression on his face. Large balls hung low, and a raging boner dripping with pre-cum was exposed for Caramel to enjoy. He rubbed along his dick, imagining mounting that hot plot.
He began to rub faster, feeling the edge coming on harder. He flipped to another page, where this time he came across a russet pony licking his own throbbing erection. Caramel groaned as his eyes rolled into his head, imagining how it would feel to be able to do that himself.
In the heat of the moment, Caramel did not hear that his father and mother had called him to dinner. He also did not hear his father open the door and come crashing in. As Caramel continued to pump his pony penis, his father got closer and closer to the closet door, before finally throwing it open.
“Aha! Hiding from me, boy? Well I— AAAGH!”
Just as the door was thrown open, Caramel has reached his climax, shooting hot jets of teenage jizz up into the air. Most of the fine spurts landed gracefully on his father’s face, but a few landed on his neck and front.
Caramel squeaked in terror, certain that his time alive was over. His father looked down at the gay nudie magazine, then up at Caramel. Slowly, he lifted a hoof to his cum covered face, took a bit of the semen, and sniffed it. Agonizingly slowly, he brought it to his mouth and tasted the dollop on his hoof
“You call this semen?” He barked. “I’ll show you semen!” Bending done, he grabbed his son by the tail and flipped him over. Grabbing either side of his plot, he prepared for entry.
This is great! Not only is he not going to kill me, but he’s a repressed homosexual! I’m gonna get laid! Caramel thought in delight. Then, another nagging little thing occurred to him.
“Um, aren’t you gonna use lube?”
There was a dark chuckle from behind him. “Hell no! A real stallion goes in dry!”
Caramel swallowed hard.