Off The Beaten-Off Path

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The air smelled fresh today, and he wasn't sure why. Normally, a chill surrounded the Everfree Forest, a haunting, menacing aura seeming to hover around its boundary, dropping the temperature before ramblers managed to even pass its treeline, and when venturers did enter its shadowy domain, they were met with a carousel of rich, cloying smells that ranged from sickly tree sap to stale groundwater. Today, though, for whatever reason, all of that was absent. The sun managed to cut through the thick branches of the trees and warm the path he walked, and rather than the pervasive scent of danger and decay, he was met with the sweet nose-tickling joy of fruits, pollen, and dew on long, uncut grass. As icing on the cake, nowhere he walked was even damp, the sun having evapourated the moisture before he turned up.

Humming to himself as he walked, Spike let his gaze wander, feeling far more at ease than he ever had walking this path. He'd always had to keep his guard up, watching for traps or ferocious beasts lest they try to take advantage of his lapse of vigilence, but today, everything felt right. Wherever he needed to walk was dry, the air was clean, there were birds chirping in the trees, and the soft breeze that passed through the trees carried with it a coolness that complimented the hot sun overhead. Everything felt right today, and as foolhardy as it might've been, he was going to enjoy it to the maximum. When was he next chance he was going to have to wander in peace through a forest as notorious as Everfree?

He must've been halfway to his destination before he heard a sound which was very much out of place for the forest, as chaotic as it normally was or not. It didn't sound like an animal - at least, not one he could identify - and it certainly wasn't the natural sounds of the forest. He stopped, halting the interruption of his footsteps and focusing in on the sound. There it was again - a deep, low grumbling, like a moan of pain, or discomfort. Was someone hurt out here? He frowned, wondering what state they could be in, and worse, what could've put them in such a state. Hesitating, he glanced back the way he'd come, wondering if he should seek help. It'd take at least half the time to get back to town that it'd taken him to get here, which would be ten minutes at best, and then he'd have to find ponies able and willing to run into the forest, organise a rescue effort, find this place again, and-

He shook his head, summoning his courage. He could do this. He had to do this. He was Spike the Dragon, famed hero of the Crystal Empire and right-hand dragon to Princess Twilight herself. It was his duty to keep the creatures of Equestria safe, and he would not be found wanting. Steeling himself with a deep breath, he took a large step off the dirt path and into the foliage, the grass and ferns brushing against him threateningly as he moved. Suddenly, the sense of calm and serenity vanished, and the ease of the day withered. He gulped, but pressed on, reminding himself of what he had to do.

The sounds grew louder as he approached, brief bursts of noise that he managed to work towards, homing in on its source. Now he was closer, he could confirm it; there was a creature, the groans he heard definitely vocalisations from something. In addition, there was something else, too, a tone of frustration under the throaty exhalations. He was close now, the creature no more than twenty metres from him, obscured by a tree. With a hint of trepidation, and preparing himself for what he might find, Spike peeked around the trunk blocking his view, expecting to be exposed to the grusome scene of a body splayed out.

To his relieved surprise, there was a body splayed out, but it was very much uninjured, and judging from the size of the body, anything trying to harm it would be harmed itself. Resting with its back against a tree, the figure he'd come to help continued groaning, oblivious to the bystander watching on in awe and shock. It was huge, almost eye level with Spike from a sitting position, and bearing more muscle in a single arm than the drake had in his entire body. Every movement resulted in a shift of thick, layered muscle, rising to form hills amid the flat perfection of the rest of him. He - Spike supposed he should admit it was a he - was broad in the shoulders and packed more weight and mass than a stallion wearing full plate armour of the Royal Guard, and his torso was more immaculately presented than the ornate designs of the Guard's plate, too. As if carved into his very flesh, sharp, defining lines marked a six pack and pectorals that looked as if they could rend skin from bone, and the rounded swell of his triceps and biceps were at least as large as Spike's head, and his hands alone were large enough to enclose and crush a coconut.

Very large, very grabby hands that were currently wrapped around a mamouth member over a foot in length.

Spike gawked, neither noticing or caring that he was drooling, as the creature ran its grip up and down, stroking the thick pole of throbbing meat. It was a good thing that the creature hadn't been injured, if any mortal weapon could pierce the granite of his shredded body; he needed every drop of blood he had to power that absolute tower of a fuckstick.

As occupied as the creature was, he wasn't too far gone in his own thoughts to miss the pleasure-warped lip-smacking of the unwanted observer, and his eyes snapped open and locked onto Spike's suddenly mortified face. With a growl and a terrifyingly swift movemnet, the creature reached to his side and hurled something towards the drake, who yelped and tumbled over backwards, a heavy thud and springy boing following a second later. Looking up from the ground, the dragon's eyes widened at the blade lodged into the tree, a few inches to the side of where he'd been peeking from.

"W-wait, wait!" he called out, jumping up and flailing his arms in a panic. "Friendly, friendly! I'm unarmed! Don't hurt me!"

"Step out into the open!" the other creature called, his voice demanding and booming. "Show yourself, and prove to me you aren't here to harm me!"

The dragon hurried out into the open space, trembling as he did so, his heart thudding like a tiny drum. He waited for the cold bite of steel, expecting the creature to ignore his raised arms and lowered head, but not liking his chances of running. "I'm Spike. Spike the Dragon. P-Pleased to meet you." There was no response, and Spike grimaced, glancing up in anxious dips of his head, concerned that he'd be met with a blade between the eyes for his trouble.

"You don't look like a dragon," the creature commented at last. "At least, not the dragons I've heard about. Aren't they supposed to be fierce and frightening, or something?" He snorted. "Well, you don't look dangerous. You can relax now, and if you don't mind, bring me my knife back."

Spike let out a breath he'd been holding for several seconds, glad to hear he'd be living for another day, and hastened to do as he was asked. When he turned to the tree, he balked upon laying eyes on the 'knife' he was supposed to retrieve. The thing looked more like a shortsword to him, and had to be buried several inches into the solid hardwood. Grasping the handle, he pulled, receiving nothing for his efforts, and strained harder. The blade didn't budge, even as he placed his feet onto the tree and tried to pry it from the trunk. The seconds passed by, the drake grunting and yanking with all his strength, to no avail.

"Never mind," the other creature said at last, sniggering at the display. "I'll get it myself later. Don't worry about it."

Awkwardly letting go and dropping back to the floor, Spike accepted defeat and turned back to the assailaint who'd launched the not-so-small knife at him in the first place. Now that there wasn't as much focus on the salacious activity that had drawn him here in the frist place, Spike was able to get a good look at the male, noticing the towering antlers that protuded from the top of the creature's head, raising proudly a couple of feet further into the air. They looked sharp and dangerous, and gave the already intimidating male the presence of a natural predator.

"Um, sorry for startling you," the drake spoke, filling the silence. "I thought you were in pain, so I came to see if I could help."

"Nah," the other male spoke, gesturing to his flagging wang. It was still huge, even having lost some of its stiffness, laying across the male's belly. "Just jerking off. If you came to be a hero, you can leave now, 'cause I'm gonna get right back to it. Unless you want to stay and watch. Don't care either way."

"Well...I did say I'd come to help," Spike pointed out. "And you look really pent up and kinda lonely out here...can I at least offer something that might be of use to you?" Reaching down to his side, he unbuttoned the satchel he was carrying with him, full of useful items that he never left home without. Rummaging through for a second, he found what he was looking for, and tossed a litre bottle over to the other male, who snatched it out of the air with one hand. With a nod of thanks, he flipped open the cap and poured a sizable stream of the contents onto his rapidly rehardening cock, before clicking it back shut and tenderly tossing it to back to the drake. It still smacked into his chest with a thud, and Spike grunted, rubbing the point of impact.

"Thanks," the buff male stated. "I guess I owe you my name too, eh? Name's Blacktail."

"A pleasure," the dragon replied politely, taking a few steps forward, carefully measuring how close he could get. True to his word, Blacktail didn't react, uncaring if the smaller male did stop and ogle the lewd display.

"What are you doing out here in the Everfree Forest with a bottle of lube?"

"I always carry it," Spike replied. "It's one of my many useful things, ever since..." He paused, memories of powerful, sweaty dragons dominating him in a myriad of ways pushing their way to the front of his mind. Ember had been furious that he'd foregone their appointment for something as mundane as muscle-clad hunks offering him wild pleasure, and had undertaken some very creative ways to punish him. "...well, since something happened. It's got me out of sticky situations. As for why I'm in the Everfree Forest, I'm visiting a zebra who-"

"Zecora?" Blacktail interrupted.

"Yes. You know her?"

"Absolutely. She's the one who made me like this." He curled his arm up, his bicep tightening and rising several inches. Spike did his best to not drool. "If it weren't for her, I'd be cooped up in my village, begging raiders to not burn everything down again."

"What?" the dragon asked, incredulous. "You? Cowering?" Just how terrifying were these raiders?

"Yeah, I know, right?" the jacked male responded with a chuckle. "Unbelievable I used to be like that. Problem was, none of us were tough or strong, and it's real hard to tell woodland predators to leave you alone when you're half their size, and bullying you into giving them half your stuff is easier than them making it themselves. Most of the village wanted to move, head somewhere else, but me and two of my pals thought we should fight. We were laughed at, then thrown out when we insisted. Something about us getting the rest of them killed with our attitude. Anyway, we had to find a solution, so we headed for a mysterious creature in the Everfree Forest. Damn near killed us to get there, but at last, we found her."

"Zecora," Spike guessed.

"She was every bit as amazing as the legends said," Blacktail continued, affirming the drake's question with a nod. His hand moved casually up and down his length as he spoke, as if an automatic process. "Listened to our plight, sympathised, and concocted us a real nice custom potion. Turned us from weedy little bucks into hulking beasts of war. It hurt like a bitch, and we were starving after the transformation, but we figured it was a fair price. Because of her, we were able to head back to our village, confront the raiders trying to rob us blind, and save our people." He sighed happily, the memory clearly bringing him no small amount of satisfaction. "We deer owe that zebra our entire existence, and I'm not forgetting it any time soon."

"Wait, deer?" Spike asked, tilting his head. "You're a deer? As in...deer?"

"Yes, I'm a deer," Blacktail confirmed. "Was a weedy little buck, but grew out of it. Same as my friends. I know, I know; deers are graceful, elegant, and slender, right? Yeah, we are. We have warriors, sure, but we're not usually ones for aggression or violence. Much as we hate to admit it, we survive by running away and hiding. If something chases us, we can usually ambush them or take them out one by one, if we're careful. If something rocks up to our village as a warband, or a huge raiding party? We are boned. They can take our stuff, and all we can do is hope they leave enough behind for us to survive the winter. We can't do anything one-on-one. Only reason we survived this long is because our elder made a deal with the raiders to leave us alone, provided we paid tribute. 50% of our property didn't sound too bad an exchange for survival."

"It...isn't the worst offer in the world," Spike conceded.

"Nah, it isn't," Blacktail agreed, grunting in frustration. His grip hardened a bit, and he sped up his stroking. "Until that 50% changes to 70%, then 80%. Or until our elder is made to step down in exchange for some other buck who's easier to control. I can't blame him; real good buck named Nettle, did good by all of us. He confronted the raiders, said we could only pay 50%, as that was the original deal, and that if we all starved or froze, there'd be no one left to make the tribute they wanted. They agreed, reducing it back down to 50%...if he abdicated. Being the good, honourable buck he was, he did, putting the safety of his people above his own ambition, and his son was instated in his place; Elder Dodder of the Sting Lineage. Never liked the kid; arrogant, thought that being the elder's son made him the hottest shit in the woods. Well, now he was the elder, and he got real buddy-buddy with the raiders he was supposed to protect us against. The quota was never officially raised above 50% again, but they'd always find reasons we didn't give enough. Sometimes we had to make it up to them with some of our women." The buff buck snorted in disgust.

"The others noticed, started talking about moving on. I proposed we fight, that we don't just lay down and take it. The others were afraid, and I couldn't even blame them for that. Then Elder Dodder heard about it, called me for a meeting with the others. I gave my point of view, tried to rally the others to my cause. He asked if anyone agreed, and my friends supported me, came to my side and proclaimed they would fight with me. It seemed to be going our way. There was hope. Then he explained that it was foolish, and that I was trying to have them all killed so I could take more of the village's wealth for myself. He terrified all of them with talk of fire and death, and how he alone could keep them all safe. He painted a picture of me being some usurper, and banished us from the village."

"What a dick," Spike commented. The deer snorted in amused agreement.

"Kind words," the buck grunted as an answer. "With nowhere else to go, we hedged our bets on the old legends we heard of some zebra in the dark and dangerous forest of Everfee. If I hadn't been desperate or driven on by rage and a need for closure, I never would've made it. I would've died, or more likely, just given up and moved to some pony town. Still, we pushed on, and to our surprise, found her. The rest, you know; she made us a potion, turned us into the warriors we needed to be. When I asked why, how she could trust us, she said she saw the truth in our hearts, that we were noble and gallant, and that we'd use our newfound strength wisely.

"We didn't go to the village at first. Didn't want Dodder alerting the raiders. Instead, we waited for their raiding party to make its way along the usual path to our village, then ambushed them. When they sent another party, we ambushed that one, too. Then, finally, we struck at their camp, tearing down their standards and banners, and taking our loot. With our hands around his throat, we made the chieftan of the raiders swear to never touch us again. We made him swear it, gathered all his men around to hear. He promised, begging forgiveness. We accepted, taking back everything they'd ever stolen from us, and then some of their stuff, too. Last I heard, he was disposed, and the clan disbanded not long afterwards.

"We wrote a letter to Dodder, pretending to be terrified, asking him, pleading with him, to let us back into the vilage. He scorned us, reading it out to the vilage, mocking us with silly tones and playing up our fear. He didn't know we were listening in, listening to him trying to belittle us. Of course, he dismissed our claim that the raiders were no more of a threat, and that we'd stolen some of our wealth back while they were wiped out by a hungry dragon. He ripped up the letter and proclaimed that we would never, ever step foot within the territories of our village ever again.

"We stepped foot in the very centre of the village carrying crates of fruit, gold, and medicine, just to watch his jaw drop. He was shocked into silence, and ordered the warriors to seize us, or strike us down, but none did. When he realised that, he changed tone, trying to welcome us back, promising that his actions were all done to secure the village's safety, and that his theatrics were merely an attempt to convince the raiders that the village wasn't rising up in rebellion. It was all just a big misunderstanding, see?"

"What did you do with him?" Spike asked, awed by the story. A tiny part of him was terrified, worried that the tale was going to end in a dark and gruesome manner. The buck slowed his self-applied handjob, nearly stopping entirely.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to kill him," he admitted. "I thought about it. I pictured snapping his neck in front of everyone there, imagined how good it'd make me feel. In the end, though, I didn't. It didn't feel right. He might've been a scumbag, a yellow-bellied coward, a traitor, and a disgrace to all deer that have ever existed, but he wasn't a threat to me. I wasn't going to become a murderer. Zecora told us that we had good hearts, and that we'd be wise with our newfound strength, and I was determined to live up to her expectations of us. Instead, I revoked his title, stripped him of his powers and position, and handed them over to his father. To my surprise, Nettle didn't want them back. He said he'd outgrown them, and that I was far more suitable for the role. I had respect for him before, but now, I was in awe. He truly did love us."

"Wait, so...you're a king?" Spike asked, wondering if he should bow.

"We don't have kings," Blacktail informed the drake. "Never have. I didn't know what to do, but the village was overwhelmingly in support of me taking the title of Elder, so I accepted. I also created two new positions to help me rule, one for each of the two who had accompanied me on my journey, stuck with me through thick and thin. I didn't know if I was wise enough to rule, but maybe three deer could do a good enough job, and who better than those who'd stood with me from the very beginning?"

"And...what happened to Dodder?" the drake asked, receiving a deep chuckle from the deer, whose hand sped up once more.

"I told you I had massive respect for Nettle when he was Elder, and so I didn't want to see his bloodline disappear," the stacked male explained. "We had to rule and protect the village, but since only us three had drank Zecora's potion, it was up to us to embark on the most dangerous of tasks, like foraging for rare herbs for medicines. That's why I'm here today, by the way; the village needs some Tangleweed and Dropfern. Anyway, since all three of us have to leave, I asked for Nettle's blessing to have his daughter, Ivy, rule in our stead. He agreed, and in exchange, I would have exclusive permanent mating rights with her."

"Does that make her your...slave?"

"What?" Blacktail asked, frowning. "No. Mating to deers is different. It's a bond, more than just slapping cheeks. Mating is a sort of temporary companionship, and comes in different styles. There's communal mating, which speaks for itself, exclusive mating, which is between two deers for a set period of time, privileged mating, which means only certain deer can be involved for a set period, and permanent mating, which is basically what you call marriage. You have to agree on what that entails, though; I gather you're not meant to sleep around if you're married. In my case, I've got free reign, while Ivy's mine, and mine alone."

"That sounds...possessive," Spike commented, choosing not to push the issue too far. "But that doesn't answer what happened to Dodder."

"Dodder has the benefit of knowing I'm railing his sister every single night," the deer grinned, smug as fuck. "I make sure he hears, and the four fawns we have running around now is a constant reminder of what I've got that he hasn't. Aside from that, my two buddies and me have privileged permanent mating rights with his previous partner, which is another seven fawns. I think two of them are mine." He shrugged, leaning back and sighing happily as he worked his pole once more, the slick, wet sound of lube accompanying his movements.

"So...h-how does the mating system work exactly?" Spike asked, eyes fixated on the buck's oiled, mechanical movements. "Do you, like, agree to it, or are you told?"

"In summary, negotiations," Blacktail answered. "You approach another deer, put your terms on the table, and see what they want in return. If you both agree at the end of it, then you have a mating agreement. You can't negotiate with a deer who's exclusive, obviously, unless the exclusive parties agree to end their agreement. Most deer in my village are communal, or otherwise very inclusive. That's been more than beneficial for me, let me tell you. Before I met Zecora, I was very, very average. Got a few average lays a year, maybe, never during estrus, though. Sometimes I got a pity fuck. After became this, though, every doe wants my children. We've even presided over situations where a doe wants to end her permanent exclusive mating arrangement with a buck so she can get dicked by me, ha! Obviously, we had to establish boundaries, let the village know that these agreements were serious, and that they should never be taken lightly. The stability of our people's civilisation rests on it, after all.

"And then there's the bucks! Never thought about bedding a buck before I got swole, but damn, some of us sure do look like a snack. I used to be really apathetic towards butts - they exist for a reason, sure, but they're just kinda there - and went straight for big jiggling tits, but ever since a cute little buck approached me during my inaguration feast and asked to lay with me, my world's been turned upside down. Can't get enough of thick-bottomed bucks and bitches now. Unf!" He thrust up, a squirt of pre sailing up a meter before splattering onto the forest floor next to him. "Straight-up natural padding for a raw, real rut."

"Y-yeah," Spike agreed, unable to prevent himself from salivating. "We're pretty good, huh? Just...really robust."

"You said it," the deer grunted, chuckling. "Tight holes, soft asses - no better way to end a hard day of fighting monsters and providing for a grateful village. I even had this one buck who said he needed help getting his doe pregnant. Said they'd been trying for years. Now, I'm amazing, but I'm not a dick, so I proposed something else; I said he had to breed her, but I'd be there helping him pump the thickest, stickiest load into her that he could. So, we spend the next six hours balls deep inside one another. I squeezed and wrung every drop of spunk from his body that he could produce, absolutely slamming into his pert little butt, while he clung onto his lover, creaming her over and over and over. Two months later, congratz; she's pregnant, and they both end up sucking my dick all night as a thanks."

"F-fuck," Spike whimpered, dropping to his knees. It was too much; the idea that this burly, big-dicked beefcake had such a lewd and, in the drake's humble opinion, awe-inspiring reign over what amounted to a harem of loving, doting cuties was practically a fantasy. Was he dreaming? Was this some lucid dream in which he was doomed to wake up? It couldn't be; his own little cock was straining so hard it hurt, staining his dark jeans with a wet patch.

"You okay there?" Blacktail asked, not sounding concerned in the slightest. "You look like you're running on fumes. Need something? Huge intake of protein, maybe?"

"I-I..." the dragon stammered, his slobber dripping onto the ground.

"Come on, spit it out," the deer encouraged. "You've been eye-balling me since you stumbled across me. Just admit you want some deer dick and get over here." There was a pause, during which the femboy tried to stand up, his head swimming and his heart pounding. "Now! Jump to it!"

The barked order made Spike jump, and he scuttered over to the buck as quickly as he could, crawling on all fours like a pet towards his new master. The closer he drew, the stronger the need to obey grew, until he was directly in front of the sitting stud. He could see the powerful throb of the gargantuan prick as Blacktail's heart beat, each pulse a teasing invitation to taste the glistening cockflesh, the layer of lube doing nothing to disguise the raw, unwashed smell of a brutish male. Spike took gentle sniffs, the hot whiff of Blacktail's scent singeing his nostrils, until he was between the buck's legs, his head descending ever lower. Reaching his destination, the femboy pressed his snout against the fuzzy nutsack, making sure he was surrounded by the wrinkled skin, and inhaled deeply.

The acrid burn of musk seared Spike's nasal, leaving his eyes watering and his cock twitching, oozing a stream of pre that swiftly soaked through the denim. It was so feral, so proper, and the femboy whimpered in gracious delight, dragging in another noseful of the thick, heady odour that he craved. He sniffed and snorted, drinking in the scrumptious reek that he could only get from someone whose body had been blessed with an abundance of every masculine trait, letting the musk roll over his brain like a fog. He would've continued drowning himself in the nose-numbing fumes if it hadn't been for a sudden whack at his rear, the sharpness cutting through the musk-induced haze.

"Are you gonna get to work?" Blacktail asked impatiently. "Start doing something, or I'm gonna tie you to a tree and leave you for a timberwolf."

The words obliterated Spike's blissful fugue and jolted him into clarity. Urgency took ahold of him, and, unwilling to disappoint the adonis, he refocused his efforts with a fierce determination, his tongue slithering out to wrap around the tremendous orbs one at a time, his forked tip flicking up and down to taste and touch at every curve. He made sure to clean every wrinkle of the sweaty sack, smoothing out the skin with an insistent thoroughness, and delving his tongue between the two dense nuts, leaving nothing untasted. Blacktail grunted approvingly above him, but the sound was muffled by the excited pounding of the dragon's heart - or maybe it was the sheer amount of musk infused in the air around the deer's crotch, absorbing the sound like thick cloud blocked out sunlight? Either way, it didn't matter; the deer hadn't seen anything yet.

The twin jewels were heavy, and the seed inside them sloshed as Spike lifted them out of the way. Whatever Blacktail thought of Spike's attentive oral so far, there was no mistaking the loud, unruly groan as the dragon's serpentine tongue lanced in between the buck's buttocks and lashed at the vice-tight ring nestled between them. The tensing, the raising of the hips, the clamping of ass cheeks around his jaw, the flexing of the vulnerable wrinkled asshole - it fed Spike's desire, the hot, humid scent burning his nose and tongue as it flowed over his taste buds and into his nasal, filling his head with a fresh wave of simpering flame. He didn't let up, running on muscle memory as he rimmed the vocal stud, unable to properly hear what was being said, but comprehending it anyway; there was no way to mistake the impulsive roll of the hips, or the involuntary pincering of his snout between those diamond-hard buns. Either Spike was amazing at his job - which he knew he was, admittedly - or this deer had never had his ass eaten before. The possibility that he was the first to expose the hunk to such carnal delights sent a shiver through the drake, and he felt a spurt of pre splash against his jeans, his underwear sodden.

The rough grab at his head made Spike gasp, dragging in a huge lungful of the hot, sour smell he adored, and he was forcefully yanked away from the sweaty swamp and up towards the tintanium tower of the stud's throbbing, pulsating meat. It was glistening with freshly applied lube, the cumslit oozing fresh, clear nectar to join the copious amount already clinging to the pole.

"Hope you've got iron lungs," Blacktail grunted, shoving Spike's head downwards and ramming the entirety of his length down the drake's throat. "Because you're gonna need 'em!" The length was already significant - the tip of the shaft speared into his gullet and neared his stomach before the drake's gag reflex could even register the violation - but the girth was what made the experience intense. The deer had a jaw-achingly thick cock, and Spike was instantly grateful that he'd spent so much time practicing on increasingly large martial aids since returning from the Dragonlands. The pre-cum and lube helped the rough impalement, but it was his own self-taught cocksucking skills that kept him intact as the buck began jerking the purple slut's head up and down, using him as a convenient fleshlight. It was all Spike could do to relax and allow the ravishing of his throat.

Spittle was flung against the deer's belly and the drake's face, drool running over scales and fur as the merciless reaming increased in ferociousness. Nuts, heavy and swollen, slammed against Spike's chin, and the wet gluck-gluck-gluck that was so usual for his practice session sounded out louder and more urgent. The shaft thickened as it pulsed, every vein weaving across the cockflesh like a ridge to further stimulate his hungry, slutty throat, and he felt his jeans growing ever wetter with pre as he was lovingly abused. His eyes rolled back and began to water, the combination of roughness, pleasure, muskiness, and the unrestrained grunting and yelling of the stud as he finally crossed the precipice being the best gift the effeminate dragon could hope to receive.

The buck bellowed as he came, forcing Spike down to the very base, nose pressed against pelvic fur damp with slobber, lube, and sweat. The dragon inhaled gratefully, breathing in the masculinity of the beast pumping what felt like litres of spunk into his stomach, the hot gush flooding his insides and the pipe from which it came stretching his esophagus like he'd never felt before. It felt right, and he giggled happily, gargling around the rigid pole lodged in his throat.

Blacktail didn't pull out until he was satisfied, leaving the dragon laying limply against him, vision darkening, before he yanked the purple cumsock back. Spike gasped, dragging in cold, biting air, tasteless after the rich, creamy treat that was still thick on his tongue. There was no trace of jizz left on or in the deer's cock; its surface was immaculate, glistening from the tongue-bath the dragon had given him.

"Nice work," the buck huffed at last, standing up. "You're a natural cocksucker, and a dirty slut too. My friends are gonna love you."

"Th-thank you," Spike simpered, throat hoarse and his voice breathy. He worked his jaw, rubbing it pitifully, the ache fading mercifully fast. It took him longer than it should've to register the words that had been spoken. "Y-your friends?"

"Yeah. What, you think you get to milk more of a load out of me than any three does in my village combined and not have an obligation to treat the rest of us?" He snorted, leaning down and hoisting the wide-eyed femboy up into an easy, one-armed carry. "Let's get going. Take the time to get your strength back; you're gonna need it." He began walking, each step of his languid stride carrying them frighteningly far. Spike's arms tightened around the buck's broad shoulders, his arms like twigs compared to the hard oak of Blacktail's frame. He leaned in close, nuzzling the damp fur, and breathed in.

The air smelled positively fragrant today, he decided, smiling to himself.

Grove Grooving

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The walk deeper into the trees was just one big trek to Spike, the drake ignoring the passage of time and where they were going. Blacktail explained that they were camped in a clearing and that he'd only wandered off to jerk it, since it felt rude to do so where they were sleeping, but Spike didn't really care. He was too enamoured with the hunk carrying him, his nose snuffling up and down the sodden coat of the naked adonis, licking and groping at the immovable frame and delighting in the salty smell and taste of sweat. In kind, the deer squeezed Spike's butt, his hand easily encompassing the smaller male's round, squishy cheeks. The casual way in which he did it made the dragon giggle, and then moan softly, his prick straining in an attempt to get even harder.

He heard the voices, but didn't really register them, and first noticed they'd entered the clearing when the space around him became lighter. He'd been kissing upwards from Blacktail's clavicle, lapping lovingly at the sinewy surface of his porter's thick neck, when he noticed the brightness of the sun beaming down on them, and paused his cleaning routine to glance around. Just as the beefy buck had said, there was a space large enough for a camp, though it was largely bereft of any actual camping gear. As far as he could see, there were some bedrolls laid on some moss-covered stones and a heaping of equipment in the centre of the glade, but the most eye-drawing feature of the open space was its occupants.

"I've brought a gift," Blacktail called to the two other males, his bassy tone rumbling through the femboy in his arms. "Caught myself a wild creature. Reckon it'll be useful."

"Ever the hunter," one of the others snorted, bringing down an axe on a log and splitting it into neat triangular chunks. The swing looked effortless, and the handle was barely the length of the buck's forearm, despite being large enough to require two hands of a normal pony, or even deer for that matter. His white-speckled back rippled with tightly-wound muscle, every easy motion shifting the powerful tautness. As he reached for another log, sparing a brief glance behind to see what Blacktail had brought into the camp, Spike was gifted a gorgeous and unobstructed view of his buttocks, the pair of sharp, tightly-packed domes perfectly suiting his chisled legs.

"You expecting us to babysit, or what?" the final one asked, eyeing up the drake, who returned the sentiment, letting his gaze rake over the forged iron of the deer's chest and abs. There was so much to admire, to explore, the dragon's eyes scaling the cliffs and mountains of biceps and pecs, desperately trying to hold back his salivating. His eyes were a deep, dark brown, and Spike felt himself getting drawn in and lost in the chocolatey depths. "Because that doesn't look wild. It looks like a pet."

"Pets are just wild animals that are tamed," Blacktail answered as he lowered his cargo to the ground, having to kneel to close the distance safely, the petite boy sinking from eye-level to a far more diminutive height. "His name is Spike, and he's our new companion. Spike, this is Thorn and Bramble." He pointed to the brown-eyed buck and the woodcutting buck in turn. "Guys, this is Spike. I've told him all about us. Got any questions for him?"

"Where did he come from?" Thorn asked, gazing down at the comparatively miniature femboy. "How did he get here?"

"I've come from Ponyville," Spike answered, his voice sounding small and high compared to the deep utterances of the other males. "I was on my way to see Zecora, and I thought I heard someone in pain, but when I went to investigate, I found Blacktail...uh, not in pain." Next to him, the tall, broad buck chuckled.

"And now you're here," Thorn deduced, a smirk crossing his lips. "I'm guessing that means you've got some certain skills."

"How good was he?" Bramble asked, thrusting the axe into the tree stump he was using as a cutting board, and turned to face the drake. "On a scale of your hand to that orgy we had for the summer festival?"

"Got a better mouth on him than Willow, and more eager than Ivy," Blacktail replied, drawing a whistle of surprise and awe from the other two. They shared impressed glances, and Spike felt self-conciousness and pride battling for dominance, uncertain whether he should stand up fully and pose or shrink down and hide his face.

"That true?" Thorn asked, all attention turning back to him. There was a silence as Spike froze, his feelings clashing and vying to be the one that took hold. Gulping, he pushed back his concerns and stood up straighter, nodding.

"I-I've never met Willow or Ivy, but you three have," he stated, looking from face to face. "And I...I c-can show you." His eyes dropped to the meat hanging between their legs, thick packages that, even in their limp state, were big enough to fill his palm. Turning to Bramble, he licked his lips. "How about you, big boy?"

The deer snorted. "Big boy? What are you, some sort of stripper?" He didn't look away as the femboy approached, or stop the dragon from touching his sculpted thighs.

"I'm just a wild creature," the drake answered, flashing a smile up at the towering man. "A wild slut." With a wink, he reached down and grabbed the flaccid prick, bringing it up to his snout as he lowered himself to the right position and opened his mouth, engulfing the entire shaft in a single swift jolt forward. With his nose pressed against the fuzz of the deer's pubic fur, he encountered the familiar accumulated masculine scent of a hard-working male, and hummed around the soft flesh in his mouth. Hollowing his cheeks, he insistently sucked, looked up the carved abdomen of his partner to make eye contact as he sampled the deer's endowmnet.

"Damn, right into it," Bramble grunted, sounding both surprised and impressed. "You really are a wild slut, aren't you?" He grunted appreciatively as the drake mm-hmm'd around his cock, the vibrations stimulating more than he'd expected. He was stiffening already, growing hard in the hot, wet vacuum, his member throbbing and swelling to fill the space around it. As it lengthened, it slid towards the back of Spike's throat, creeping along the dragon's tongue and curving downwards to fit the passage of the femboy's gullet. Spike moaned encouragingly, keeping his lips sealed at the base of the pulsing manhood even as it thickened and pushed his lips further apart, gradually opening his jaw and flattening his tongue against the floor of his mouth. It took over a minute before Spike pulle back, and even then, he did so slowly, giving Bramble the opportunity to watch every inch of his endowment emerging, spit-shined, from the drake's maw, and finished with a kiss on the crown.

"Does Willow do that for you, big boy?" the femboy asked, giggling demurely.

"Can't say she does," Bramble admitted. "Lucky me, eh?"

"I wouldn't say lucky," Spike told him. "Just you looked the part. You earned this blowie."

"You like muscle studs?" he guessed. "Or guys who do hard, manual work?"

"Both. That and..." The drake giggled again. "You looked the sweatiest..."

"Oh?" the deer asked, grinning. "He likes 'em sweaty, boys!"

Spike looked around to see Blacktail and Thorn grin and glance at each other before squatting down and locking antlers, grunting as they began an intense wrestling match, the two studs heaving and shoving in an effort to work up a sweaty lather for the pervert in their midst. If it hadn't been for Bramble's hand turning Spike's head back the right way, the dragon would've watched on, drinking in the sight of one adonis strain against another, titanium muscles bulging and compressing against one another. As if knowing what the femboy was thinking, the buck took ahold of Spike's muzzle and pulled his sight upwards, ensuring the drake's gaze was turned skyward before pulling his forearm towards his head, his biceps popping into a rigid mound of steel. As the dragon drooled at the sight, the buck rested his free hand behind the femboy's head pulled the purple cockslut towards his groin, easily slipping into the salivating open maw.

The dragon didn't drop his gaze from the showboating buck as he was pushed to the base of the deer's dick, sheathing the stud's schlong with only a little difficulty. When the hung hunk began to saw back and forth, Spike remained still and relaxed his throat, simpering as the adonis above him continued to pose and posture, demonstrating with every movement how thickly built his body was. Sinew and tendons compressed, muscles rose, and ripples played across his skin, visible through the soft brown fur that coated every inch of his shredded body, and Spike drank every moment of it in, his slitted eyes travelling across the beautiful bulges and the shifting landscape that was forming as he watched. He was so enamoured that he nearly forgot to breathe, the throbbing weight in his chest poking at him for several seconds before he realised, and gasped in a swig of oxygen, dragging with it the dense odour emanating from the pinnacle of masculinity he was serving.

"You make some cute noises," Bramble commented, swivelling his hips with a grace underpinned by raw power and strength. Despite how smooth and fluid it was, he looked more, not less, masculine because of it. "I wanna hear more of 'em, boy. Show me how a wild slut sounds when he gets treated like the sex toy he is." The thrusting sped up, heavy nuts slapping against the drake's chin and the pole stabbing into his gullet with an eager vigour, slick, throaty slurps accompanying the accelerating swabbing. As Bramble had requested, Spike didn't hold back his approval and needy whines, detailing to the stud just how much he was loving this uncaring treatment, letting saliva pool in his mouth to add to the squishy, mess pistoning, slobber splashing over his lips and snout, and adding another layer of decadence to their perverted activity.

Without warning, Bramble pulled Spike all the way down, hilting his dong deep down the dragon's throat. With his gullet blocked and his nose pressed against the musk-infused scruff of the deer's crotch, the drake slithered his tongue out and down to the furry nutsack hanging heavy and low between the beefcake's legs, following the shape of those heavy orbs. It didn't take him long to slide under the skinpouch and daringly reach up, dragging his forked appendage along the deer's taint, and higher, higher, higher, until he reached the tangier wrinkle that he was seeking. The deer grunted in surprise and approval as the dragon flicked his oral organ over the vice-tight ring, delighting in the acrid taste that washed over his buds, precum rolling in thin stands straight down into his stomach, each throb of the log in his gob stretching his maw beautifully.

"Damn, you're really a kinky little slut, aren't you?" the deer asked. He grunted again as Spike mm-hmm'd, chuckling at the ceaseless enthusiasm of this hungry cockslut. "Maybe I'm going about this the wrong way; you should be doing the work. I've been too nice to you, thinking you're just some fragile little creature who needs to be guided and handheld, while all along, you're more than capable of handling me. Show me, slut. Make me bust a fat nut." He let go of Spike's head, allowing the dragon to ease back and breathe normally again. While Spike gained his bearings, considering what he was going to do, Bramble began to pose again, holding his arms at his side and tensing, ensuring the drake could see - sure enough, Spike's eyes flicked up, and his pretty pistachio orbs glazed over in wonder.

The purple femboy's hands closed around the pulsing slab of meat in front of him, his claws barely able to touch as he pressed them either side of the saliva-sodden rod, and he admired just how large it truly was for a moment, before his instincts got the better of him and he began to pump, sliding his partial grip up and down the monument, covering the entire length with huge, lunging strokes. The rounded crown of the deer's dong left untouched, the flesh engorged and demanding attention, and Spike leaned in close to breath in the powerful semen-infused scent that wafted from the drooling cumslit running down the middle. With a searching tongue, he lapped at the vertical slot, supping the stringy fluid that seeped from it, drinking down the deliciously odorous flavour of virility. As he did so, he planted cute, clumsy kisses over the cockhead, smooching the hot crown with delicate pecks.

Passing his lips over the tip, the dragon began suckling, hollowing his cheeks and easing forward, encompassing more and more of the rounded meat of the stud's crown. Reaching the precipice of his glans, Spike held position, sucking the bulb like a particularly sweet lollipop, coaxing out the stream of pre that seemed to leak from the deer in a stream, the mess pooling on his tongue until its slippery volume became too much, and it dribbled over the drop of his gullet and down his throat, running swiftly down the surface of his esophagus. He swallowed, pulling the watery load down into his stomach, but it was almost immediately replaced by more of the leakage.

Bramble was still posing, throwing his arms left and right, up and down, in deliberate, measured movements, each one designed and calculated to show off his godly body in all its masculine glory. He was shameless, showing off the perfection of his pecs and abs, his broad shoulders, his ripped six-pack, the defined v-shape of his pelvis, all of it boasting of a buck who had the strength and grace of a true, real male, so unlike the petite femboy serving him, as was right. Spike revelled in the sight, being in the mere presence of this adonis enough to make his body swell was sweltering need and simpering desire. There was too much to praise, but he was determined to do his part. Extending his tongue, he wrapped it around the ram in a spiral, winding his thin, prehensile organ until it covered the mighty spear from the corona of his cock to its base, feeling smug as the deer watched on with visible approval. He knew - knew - that he was the only one who could ever do this for these deserving deer, and he delighted in his own ability. With a wink, he began to pump, working the shaft with his flexible appendage.

His hands grasped at the nuts hanging like iron clangers between the rocky columns of the stud's legs, their weight resting heavily in his palm and their mass filling his grip entirely, practically spilling out from between his fingers. The dragon had to extend his digits just to capture their diameter, the curve challenging his ability to hold the sloshing spheres as he tried to massage them softly, rubbing and stroking and worhsipping the fat, bloated balls with every ounce of love and sincerity that the beefcake truly deserved. There was no break or deviation from his routine as he toyed with the stud's body, working mouth and tongue and hands in equal, co-ordinated measure, keeping a tight seal with his lips as he jerked the deer with at least as much skill as a normal doe would be able to do with her hands, but the added thrill of it being so decadently slobbery and carrying the ingrained delight that every red-blooded male got from a blowie.

Bramble wasn't quiet or ashamed with his vocals, but it was the contractions from the deer's jewels that tipped Spike off to the buck's impending climax. Thrilled, he upped his game, squeezing the stones with more force but with enough restraint to not take away from the pleasure he was inflicting, his tongue slinging saliva over his face and the deer's abs as it soared back and forth with greater speed than even the most enthusiastic handjob any of the deers had ever received. Bramble huffed and groaned, his hips swivelling in small circles as the pressure built, his body reacting to the swell of pleasure that was undoutedly building in the deer's loins, each throb and pulse recording the rising pace of the stud's heartbeat as he was pushed closer and closer to a blindingly beautiful release.

With a loud grunt and a throaty yell, Bramble closed his eyes and tensed, and Spike's jaw was stretched to its limit as the cock thickened and discharged a rope of jizz into the waiting drake's mouth, the thick, creamy shot battering the femboy's pharynx with the force of a jet spray. The first burst was already voluminous, but as quickly as it ebbed, the deer's cock throbbed again, and the drake was force-fed another heaping of frothy ball-batter, the second spurt barrelling into Spike's stomach to make room for more of the same. Spike didn't stop his loving attention, his tongue still jerking his partner even as his gob was powerhosed by the productive beast. The waves of jettisoned jizz that didn't run down his throat like a waterfall splashed back and rose like floodwater in his maw, quickly filling the available space and drowning the wet spatter of surging spunk against a solid object in a quiet whoosh as the stream continued, submerged under the sheer amount already unloaded. He gargled, waiting patiently for Bramble to finish dumping the steaming milk into him.

Spike was more than a little proud when the deer's grunts and groans petered into a satisfied panting, his legs trembling slightly from the explosion of ecstasy he'd just endured. As the buck pulled his sensitive glans from the dragon's maw, Spike gulped down the resevoir of cream he was still holding, having to swallow several times to fully ingest the humungous amount that had been pumped into him. Even after that, he sucked and ran his tongue over and around his gums, thoroughly cleaning his mouth from the remanants of the sticky seed, the thick, cloying flavour saturating his tastebuds and lingering in his nostrils. With a smack of his lips, the drake looked up at the buck and smiled sweetly.

"Was it good for you, baby?"

Bramble laughed loudly, patting Spike's head in heavy-handed gesture that the femboy still found endearing, nuzzling against the broad palm with a happy murmur.

"You're crazy," the deer chortled. "Yeah, you're good, slut, and it was a damn good...whatever the hell that was. I'd say a blowjob, but it was more than that, y'know?" He shrugged and grinned, nodding to a space behind the drake. "Dunno if that was your 110%, but good lucky, slut. That was just your warmup."

Before Spike could ask what the stud meant, he was hoisted into the air, yelping as a pair of strong, firm hands closed around him from behind, the motion effortless and swift, and in a second, another pair of hands were roaming over his diminutive form, tugging at his clothes. Deftly, his top was pulled up and over his head, his jeans were yanked down his legs, his boxers were peeled off his wide, feminine hips, and his clothes and satchel were tossed haphazardly to the side, leaving the femboy naked and vulnerable.

"What's this?" Thorn asked, gripping Spike's nubby cock between a forefinger and thumb, the meagre erection negligible by comparison to their mighty manhoods. "Is this supposed to be a cock, boy?" He laughed derisively, joined in by the other two deer. A burn of shame spread across the dragon's cheeks, his scales marred red as an emotional itch passed through his body. He wiggled, to no avail. "You sure you're a boy?"

"Y-yes!" Spike argued, gasping as the brute began to stroke his little dick in short, slow movements, the action still immensely gratifying.

"If you say so," Thorn sneered, grazing the femboy's nuts with his fingertips. "I've never met a little boy so pathetic as you. Even the most femmey buck back home is bigger than this excuse for being male." With his free hand, he reached the drake's chest, palming the flat pecs of the squirming femboy slut. "You're a good little bitch though, aren't you?"

"Y-yes!"

"Yes you are," Thorn rumbled lowly, his bassy voice making Spike swoon even as he was belittled and degraded. "Nothing more. Just a useful little cockwarmer, and so willing, because you know that's what you're good for. Isn't that right?"

"Y-yes! Yes it is!"

"He's such an ass kisser."

"Literally," Bramble added, chuckling as Thorn turned to him questioningly. "Yeah, he's really not afraid to use his tongue."

"Like Hazel?"

"Oh, better than Hazel, bro."

"No way?"

"Yes way."

"Bramble's right," Blacktail added. "He's a really dirty slut, and he's happy to lick just about anything you put in front of his snout."

"Huh," Thorn considered, stepping in front of the femboy. "Is that so? Well, slut; I'm hot and sweaty. Bathe me." He leaned in close, tensing his chest so that his pecs rose and fell in a sharp, pompous display.

Spike closed the distance without any hesitation, using the advantage of the height afforded to him by Blacktail's effortless lifting to lap insistently at Thorn's neck, feeling the chords of tendon and muscle beneath the skin, groaning at how firm they were. He slurped along the miles of shoulders, licking along the deer's clavicle and up his throat, smooching over the plates of his granite chest and along the washboard abs, rubbing his face against the bevels and kissing each one, flicking his tongue up and down and in between each one. The anticipation of where he was going just excited him further, and he allowed himself to pant needily against the deer's firm body, inhaling the sweaty scent of a stud as he licked and lapped and cleaned, working like the servile little bitch he was.

He'd just reached the level he wanted to be at, the perfect spot to receive a faceful of the deer's jutting pride, when the drake was spun around, his world turning upside down in an instant and his sense of balance totally thrown off. He felt the rush of vertigo as he was rotated 180 degrees in under a second, his legs flying upwards and his tail swiping the air beneath him like a cracked whip. Two pairs of hands secured him, holding his shoulders and his hips to keep him suspended facing towards the sky, sandwiched between two studs. Without even thinking, his legs wrapped around Blacktail's waist, keeping him at the perfect position to be used.

Thorn was the first to get grabby, gripping Spike by the chin and yanking his head back so there was a straight line from lips to stomach, raking his schlong along the scales of the dragon's throat as he did. As the heavy slab of meat was dragged over his jaw, partly lubed by the sweat that had been built up, Spike breathed in the musky odour of the beefcake's ballsack, sniffing urgently to try and drink in as much of the stink as he could, the smell growing fainter as the buck's hips pulled back from his nose. As if knowing how badly Spike wanted it, Thorn seemed to slow as he ran out of cock to withdraw, letting the crown rest on the drake's chin precariously, inching ever so slowly towards the drop that would leave the cock perfectly aligned with Spike's soft, eager lips. He could feel the glacial drift, the way it wobbled, wanting to fall down to snuggle against his pillowy pair of kissers, and as Blacktail shifted his grip to one arm and spat noisily, Spike got his wish.

The second the musky cock balancing on his chin dropped to smear pre over Spike's lips, a thick finger wormed its way between his butt cheeks and past the lethargic defence of his asshole, easily spreading him wide and sinking sharply into his rear, plunging deep into the drake's hot passage. He gasped at the sudden penetration, his open maw an inviting offer for the buck in front of him, and just as swiftly, Thorn rammed every inch of his proud prick into the dragon's gullet. Skewered by the hunks, all Spike could do was whine, which is just what he did; as one of his superiors claimed the dragon's throat for his own, the other sought out the walnut sized bump with robust swipes of his finger, catching it after a few seconds of experimental stroking. Even with the organic gag lodged in his throat, Spike's squeals and loud groans couldn't be muffled, his back arching as white-hot pleasure lanced through him, the barest of contact sending his cock lurching and his nerves sparking, as if he'd been exposed to a live current.

Before he knew it, he was cumming, babbling around the log blocking his airways, and firing messy splashes of cream over his slim belly. His legs tightened around Blacktail, squeezing so hard that it should've hurt the deer, but aside from an increased pace and pressure from the lazer-accurate finger, there was no indication that the dominant deer even realised Spike was clamping down on him. Spike's cock ran hot, blasting thick ropes of semen over himself, far more than he normally would produce. As he began to run dry, his throbbing petiteness pushing out a few drops, Spike's hole was stretched even wider by the insertion of a second digit, and his pleasure resurged, triggering another orgasm.

The femboy's balls had begun to ache by the time Blacktail stopped fingering him, rinsing the cockslut's tanks of all they could offer with the insistent caresses. He was no newbie, but even with his love for prowess and grandeur, he recognised that the deers' fingers were thick, each one about half the width of a normal stallion's erection. As the alpha removed his appendages from Spike's plot, leaving the drake dreadfully empty and groaning in need and disappointment, he paid a quick thought to his practice sessions in private, growing accustomed over time to some of the larger creatures he might come across. Already, he knew he wouldn't have been able to take any of them if he hadn't began using the largest toy he owned a week or so ago.

The click of a bottle being opened and the gentle squeeze of something being pressed made Spike realise that they'd rumaged through his satchel to fetch the lube, and he felt his giddiness rise inside him again. When he heard the lid click shut, barely a second passed by before something hot and round pressed against his loosened sphincter, shoving demandingly against his elastic ring and spreading his anal defences with an easy indifference. The dragon whimpered, the intensity increasing until the pressure gave way to fullness, and he felt something huge travelling up his tract, parting his walls in its wake. When it pressed against his prostate, his cock lurched to full tumescence once again, straining with the force of the concrete-hard block grinded against it. By the time Blacktail was fully sheathed, Spike's cock had let loose another spurt of pre, his cumslit dilated and leaking.

A hand grasped at his throat, palming the bulge from where Thorn's cock was stretching it to its fullest, turning the drake into a cocksleeve for better, stronger creatures. Spike endured it, feeling as well as hearing the wetness of their sloppy operation, and knowing the deer could do so much more if he wanted to. For now, he tried to breath as best as he could, blowing hot air from his nostrils over the dense stones striking his snout and groaning loudly and energetically around the rod, hoping to make the experience just that bit better for the deserving deer.

Spike wilfully lost himself in the glorious bliss of being at the mercy of two stronger, better males, his two cock-pleasing orifices used for their best and proper purpose. Both seemed content to go at their own pace, rocking their hips and staying put as they saw fit, and somehow, despite the lack of any sort of communication, managing to synchronise their movements to maximise his and their pleasure - at least, that was his subconcious presumption. He didn't know if they were actually moving like a well-oiled machine or if they just felt so good it seemed as if they had divine skill and coordination, but he didn't care; the way they drove themselves into him, thrusting deep into his welcoming passages, and sped up to sate themselves was perfect, and he let the minutes roll past.

The dragon didn't notice who blew their load first - he was too busy riding the wave of his own swell to note down the order - but the thickness spreading his throat and ass wide was impossible to ignore as they grunted and despoited their thick, sticky loads into him, painting him white and claiming his body. He willingly gave them what they wanted, his prick oozing out a few drops of cum, a pathetic offering compared to their deluges of jizz. It felt like it went on for minutes, his vision dimmed to near blindness before he realised he was able to breathe again, and did so, gasping in a deep lungful of oxygen, the intake bringing with it the cloying odour of virility. Neither of the bucks were particularly gentle when they flipped him around, leaving his gaping ass open to the air for a second or two while they spun him back onto his front, feet dangling in the air, and filled him back up again. Thorn was thoughtful enough to apply at least a little of the dragon's lube to himself before he slammed home, judging from the click and the squirting sound, and Spike's eyes rolled back as the deers returned to their tasks, rutting him furiously as if they hadn't just creamed him with two colossal loads.

As amazing as the aggressive, skelleton-shaking butt-bashing was, the drake delighted in the perversity of deepthroating Blacktail's lube-slickened cock, cleaning it of the remants of cum with a shamefully giddy knowledge of where it had just been. He worked eagerly and single-mindedly, leaving the other hunk to ream him with abandon, the stud throwing his crotch forward and ramming against the femboy's plush rump. There was no need to put any focus or effort into clenching or squeezing or doing anything to stimulate Thorn; the beefcake was too thick and too zealous for any clenching to have any effect, and he seemed more content to just belligerently batter the drake's gate, so Spike washed Blacktail's cock and breathed in the deep, rich scent of a male's hard work, uncaring of how depraved it looked, felt, or was.

Spike was nose-deep in Blacktail's crotch, nuzzling the base of the deer's cock while his tongue swept over the contours of the stud's ballsack, when Thorn hilted and grunted aggressively, a wave of spunk blasting the femboy's guts. The drake's eyes rolled back as the fresh flood of sloppy heat seethed inside him, setting off another body-shuddering climax. Unceremoniously, the deer yanked himself out of the cumdumpster, leaving the purple slut empty and gaping, jizz beginning to ooze from his open hole, creeping thickly down his smooth, petite nutsack, his ring buzzing from its constant use. He panted, breathing in and exhaling the reek of deer dick and the odour of a testosterone-riddled stud, and allowed himself to be set back down on trembling legs, still kissing instinctively at the abs of the buck in front of him. He whined as Blacktail moved to the side, depriving Spike of his satisfaction.

Once again, he was hoisted into the air, lifted up to crotch-height and gifted a faceful of throbbing, musky cock, the dick slick with lube and dotted with semen. The smell of it invaded his nostrils, coaxing him to sniff it and indulge in the naughtiness of cleaning yet another cock that had been used to ream him. He kissed the tip softly, flicking his tongue over the cumslit and tasting the hot, fresh cream still remaining undrank and unappreciated, which he fixed immediately. Opening his maw to engulf the dirtied shaft, he found himself shunted forward, taking the schlong all the way as the other deer rammed himself home, meeting little resistance from the cum-slick hole. Content to fall back into the familiar pattern, he happily sucked and slurped, removing the slick feel and taste from the deer's weapon.

With how adept he was, it didn't take Spike long at all to wash the deer's dick, leaving it fresh and sparkling in under a minute. To his dismay, that meant that Thorn pulled back, unplugging the drake's maw and giving the entire glade an earful of his whorish moans. Spike delivered, yelping as Bramble yanked his legs up and clasped broad, powerful hands behind the femboy's head, leaving him folded at the waist, the angle perfect to deepen the penetration of that wonderfully thick cock. The femboy wailed as he was battered, the deer giving him no time to adjust, and hammering up into his unprotected and rapidly reddening ass, his purple behind flushing as it was struck over and over by stone wall that was his partner. He moaned and whimpered and whined, drooling with unfettered delight and crying out as another spurt of cum was milked from him, an orgasm reverberating through his addled body, taking every pulse of pleasure with a dopey, unfocused smile, uncaring how he looked to the two other leering observers.

Spike came another two times before Bramble finally let loose, adding a hefty amount more ball batter to the sticky resevoir that was dribbling down his pipe and threatening to spill over, kept inside by the mamouth poles plugging his elastic pucker. The eruption lasted several long seconds, fountaining into his bowels until the deer had expended every drop of his roiling rigour and Spike felt as full as if he'd just eaten a generous three-course meal, and then the virile stud withdrew himself, letting amalgamated mess ooze thickly from the gaping, raw entrance of the femboy's breach.

"Messy slut," Bramble taunted, jiggling the drake so he could feel the deposit sloshing around inside him, and leaking from his asshole. Untangling the two of them, the buck lowered the quaking cockwarmer down onto his own two feet, letting him adjust to walking on solid land again for a second or two. "So, are you really an ass kisser, little bitch?" When Spike nodded shakily, but firmly, the deer grinned. "And I'm a team player, so I reckon we should get the whole team on board. What do you say, boys?" There was a jeer of agreement, and the other two bucks gathered around, grinning lasciviously at the bow-legged, pint-sized cockslut, turning on the spot to present their sculpted backsides to him, and closing in.

He didn't even try to stop himself being squashed between the three pairs of bolders, instead delighting in how firm and hot they were as they encapsulated his head. He didn't even mind the jeering taunts, too enamoured with the contrast between the short, downy fuzz of their fur over the top of their solid buttocks, the packed muscle of their rounded derrieres both demanding and comforting, pushing him back disrespectfully as much as they invited him in. He basked in the welcome loss of control, the absence of his own agency, and nuzzled their impeccable rears, rubbing his face lovingly over the smooth buns of his magnificent lovers, happy to smell that their delicious reek hadn't reduced during their time filling him to the brim with meat and gravy.

His tongue lashed lazily across their landscapes with an aimless adoration, visiting every part of them that he could reach and drinking in - literally and figuratively - their musk-laced sweat, sweeping it up from their fur and letting it rest heavily on his tongue, the odour seeping through like a welcome fog to soothe his brain. It was heavenly, praising their perfect asses and being rewarded in the form of immense gratification, a mind-tingling smell, and an ambrosial flavour, their mocking bumps as they swivelled their hips towards him just adding to his lustful joy. Having them shove them between themselves, passing him around with taps to his face and head with their titanium cheeks, was the perfect mix of playful and perverse, and he lived for it.

Jostled around and compressed between the thick pillars of legs, he tried to pay them their due, driving his tongue as far as he could between their slick butt cheeks to lap at their tight holes, seeking out the flavour that it brought, and the vocal queues he received whenever he brushed one of their sensitive rings. It was hard work, trying to satisfy three horny hunks, but he was nothing if not a reliable friend, and so he pushed on, parting their carved, sweaty asscheeks to flick persistently at their deserving divets, refusing to stop even as he was squashed against another pair of cheeks behind him. When he felt that he'd done enough for one, he moved on, giving another their fair share of tongue-loving, and then the next, and the next, until he'd rotated through all of them several times. Sometimes he forgot the order, and moved between them at random, and so feeling guilty, he pushed his snout into their crevice and planted his lips on their starfish, smooching lovingly as his tongue wormed as far in as he could manage. He never managed to get past their exterior, their rings the most stalwart he'd ever come across.

When they pulled back, the drake stank of their combined scents, the humidity rising from him like mist in early morning. He knew what they wanted when they turned to face him, and he gave it to them without question, grasping two cocks in his hands and treating the buck in the middle to his mouth, engulfing the throbbing meat in a single gulp. He jerked and sucked, unsheathing Blacktail's cock ocassionally to lap at the stud's nutsack, giving it his all. They grunted approvingly, posing cockily so he could see just how built they were, their muscles popping as they tensed and curled and brought their limbs in. He could feel the power in their movements, their strength practically radiating from their limbs.

Whether from comaraderie or just pure luck, their climaxes approached more or less at the same time. The dragon felt it in the pulse of their pricks, the swelling of their shafts, and heard it in their voices and breathing. He upped his efforts, his hands a blur either side of him, insisting, pleading, demanding that Bramble and Thorn shoot their load all over his curvaceous body. He got his wish soon enough, the two flexing as they grunted in unison and ejaculated waves of spooge over his chest and arms, his hips and sides, his torso and his legs. It kept coming, pints of white, even after he'd milked them so thoroughly so many times already. They made sure he was marked as theirs.

Blacktail was the last to finish. He pushed Spike back, finally taking over as his crown expanded and his slit dilated to allow the pre to stream from it, straight down the drake's abused throat. Remaining a couple of inches away, and caked in cum, Spike watched as the beast gazed down at him, grinning smugly, eyes lidded, and stroked his might, chest rising and falling in rapid heaves. A growl rose in the deer's throat, and he locked eyes with Spike one last time as he curled his arm inward, kissed his steely bicep with an exaggerated slowness, and winked.

That was the last sight Spike managed to make out. Semen lanced his face, coating him utterly from fin to chin, layers of jizz settling over every inch of him until he had to hold his breath and keep his eyes scrunched tightly shut. Strands drooled into his open mouth, settling heavily on his tongue and firing up his tastebuds, the richness of it sending a shudder through him that transitioned into a full-body orgasm of his own. He had no more of his own cum left to give, but his body remained wracked by the sensations brought about by being used like the slut he was.

He didn't know when Blacktail stopped pumping out ropes of cream - he was buried too far under to feel the volley, and his mind was busy trying to multitask breathing and simpering over the amazing facial he'd just received. All he knew was that it was quiet, save for his hammering heart and the thumping in his head and ears. His body was on fire, nerves and synapses crackling and his muscles aching and sore. It felt good, and right, and he welcomed every part of it.

He didn't hear what was said to him, either, or else he just didn't understand the words. Whatever the case, he found himself being picked up tenderly and carried in some direction or another. He couldn't see, and he didn't need to. He felt safe, content, and thoroughly satiated. The three deers were chatting among themselves, but he didn't pay them any attention. He just smiled and nuzzled his porter's chest, flirting with sleep as he rested.

Onward

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It looked like late afternoon when the dragon was fully cleaned and was in a fit state to leave the camp. His legs still trembled, and his body was a little sore, but he was mobile and functional, and that's all he needed. He was glad for his newfound friend's help; without them, he never would've found the stream to wash himself down and flush out the copious amounts of their hot injections into him. He probably didn't smell of roses and lavender, but he'd cleaned himself thoroughly and gargled water and even chewed on some herbs offered to him by the deer, who'd claimed it'd freshen up his breath. He kept trying to sniff himself to see if it had worked.

"You know where I live, right?" the lithe boy asked, concern wavering in his voice. Blacktail chuckled, keeping his arms crossed over his chest as the drake finished straightening out his clothes and adjusting himself. He'd checked that he had everything, and apart from the now-empty bottle of lubricant, nothing had gone missing. He was free to carry on his merry way.

"We do," the buck assured him. "We'll ask for you in person, anyway. If we come looking for you, you'll hear about it, don't worry."

"And we will come visit," Thorn added. "When we've got free time and our village doesn't need us."

"Good," Spike spoke, sighing in relief. "Thanks for everything. I had a great time."

"Are you kidding?" Bramble snorted. "It's us that should be thanking you. Like you promised; better than any deer we've known."

"Come on, shortstack," Blacktail urged, nudging the drake towards the trees. "You've got places to be, and so have we." He walked the dragon forward, keeping his stride slow and steady so the purple boy could wave goodbye to the other two hunks, who gave nods and a brief wave in return before getting back on with their tasks.

The forest was quiet, encompassing all nearby sound. Before they'd gone twenty meters, the sound and sight of the camp had disappeared, and Spike was alone with his towering companion, whose steps seemed to resonate even on the moss. They walked in silence for a bit, covering a good amount of ground, before Spike opted to break the silence.

"Do you want me to say anything to Zecora?"

"Just the usual platitudes," Blacktail said after a momentary consideration. "Tell her we said hi, hope she's doing well, and that usual sort of thing. You can tell her you're an honorary buck now, too."

"Okay," the dragon agreed, then frowned and looked up at the other male. "Wait, what?"

"You're an honorary buck," the deer repeated. "We've decided that your demonstration was enough to get you access to our village, if you ever want to come visit. You're a friendship ambassador, right? Plenty of friendships to make and mend in our village. If you do turn up, you'll be welcomed, and if you ever get into trouble, just namedrop any of us three. We'll see you're kept safe and sound."

The dragon swelled with pride, joy filling him with a whole new reserve of energy. He didn't even realise they'd reached the path again, until the deer gently pulled him to a halt, gesturing in the right direction. When he looked, he saw the straight passage he needed to take to get to Zecora's hut, the sight deflating him a bit.

"I guess this is goodbye, then," he said, kicking the ground.

"For now," Blacktail agreed. "But we promised we'd visit, and we will."

"That could be years away," Spike lamented.

"The surprise is the best part of it," Blacktail countered. "Are you telling me you don't love the idea of a boring day broken by us turning up uninvited, carrying you up to your room, and ruining you on your bed?" The drake blushed and smiled sheepishly, and the deer grinned. "Exactly. Now, be a good boy and get on with your day. I'll let the boys know you're missing us already, and you can let Zecora know you're pining over us. I'm sure she'll understand what you need." Straightening up, he patted Spike's head and turned around, walking back into the trees.

Spike waited until the deer was gone, the sounds of footsteps fading into obscurity, and he was alone again, before he took the first step towards his destination. The mild sadness didn't fade as he walked, and he rummaged around in his bag for a snack, wanting to pass his time with at something tasty, at the very least. He paused as his claws brushed something he was sure he hadn't put into the satchel, and he grasped it carefully, withdrawing it with suspiciously.

It was a wrapped scroll, certainly not one he'd brought with him. His frown deepening, he unravelled the paper, letting it unfurl before him and reveal...a map. His eyes passed over the surface, scanning it, picking out places he knew on the sketched rendition of Equestria. There was the Everfree Forest, there was Ponyville, and there...he blinked, wondering what the X was. Could it be...? He turned the paper over, spying a simple message scribbled onto the back:

Hope you enjoyed yourself. That was a quickie. Come to us if you think you can handle a deer in rut.

He could've laughed, but he was too busy compressing that energy into himself, basking in the warmth and the sheer appreciation he felt for those wonderful creatures. Stuffing the map back in his satchel, he strode down the path towards the hut, his mind at ease once again. He had a task to do, and then he could worry about planning his trip to see those big-dicked studs. He wondered how surprised they'd be to see him so soon.

The day was quiet and warm, and the sounds of the forest were accompanied by the happy whistling of a femmey dragon in his element. Everything was as it should be.

Getting Wood

by Drop_It_Like_Its_Clop

Off The Beaten-Off Path

Grove Grooving

Onward