Malayar and Daring Do have made their way to Griffonstone in pursuit of the illustrious lost jewel of Motetiani. Unfortunately for Malayar, the price of having such a treasure. Let's hope the lumbering griffon holding it is more gentle than he looks.
Malayar and Daring Do have been adventuring together now for quite a while. Untamed jungles in the South, submerged cities to the North, feral oceans to the West. The zebra couldn't complain. He loved every minute of it. But, it does wear on the soul after a while, a sentiment Daring Do agreed with. So after all their tumultuous adventures the zebra was relieved, for their next outing was quite tame in comparison to past bouts. A simple trip to Griffonstone to purchase a long lost emerald from a shady griffon. What's the worse that could happen?
Fetishes & Kinks list: Chap 1: Dreaded justification for the events ahead Chap 2: Gay, griffon-on-zebra action, coerced/dubiously consented sex, very large male endowment. THIS WAS A COMMISSION Artist is: Failure Source is
Griffons.Griffonstone. They didn’t possess as complex naming conventions as the ancient, lost nations of eons past or some remote tribe in the Further-than-South South, yet they captured Malayar’s curiosity all the same. His eyes could look in all directions and spot something new. On the streets, vendors called to passersby - himself included - flaunting their goods and wares in his face. When his attention wasn’t stolen by their mercantile theatrics, his eyes went to the sky. Up high, shadows would frequently pass overhead at breakneck speeds. Griffons flew circles around his head getting from A to Z, and Malayar pondered why - unless they were all simultaneously trying to reach the deathbed of a relative or the birth of their new chick - someone would need to go so fast? The question, although potentially one of contention, came from a place of wonderment and fascination, a place that prompted the blossoming of a large toothy smile upon the striped stallion’s face.
“Stop staring so much,” Daring chided the zebra quietly, his emerald eyes unable to focus on the path ahead. He looked at her, the mare dressed in conservative attire, a skirt clinging to her rump, hiding her 'affliction' from view.
“Sorry,” he replied, still enamoured with the locale to look upon the pegasus. “This is just all so new to me.”
Daring rolled her eyes at his enthusiasm but admittedly, the smile he wore was contagious. She wore one too, one which had remained there ever since they departed from the ship at the pier. He was hard to control before coming to the griffon heartland. Now? She constantly had to yank at the metaphorical chain just to keep him trotting along to their destination, his interest constantly captured by the foreign sights. Although, and she kept this to herself, she enjoyed his adventurous elation. They weren’t tourists however, they were here for business, yet she would be a hypocrite if she tried to snuff out the zebra’s jovial demeanour. She was like him once, eager and giddy. In some ways, she still was.
She smirked, looking at him sideways. “I tell you what. After we got what we came here for, I’ll treat you to some genuine griffon cuisine. What d’ya say?”
He spruced up at her offer. One of the things he enjoyed greatly about travelling the world with the pegasus was the smorgasbord of culinary delights… alongside the discoveries of course. He nodded enthusiastically, eyes closed. “I would like that very much.”
Daring found his beam blinding, letting out a chuckle. “Glad to hear. I think you’d like-
Daring was silenced suddenly by a face full of plumage. She recoiled backwards, looking up to come eye to eye with a mean-eyed griffon male. “Watch where yer goin’,” a griffon barked at her before sneering, continuing on, not offering the pair a second look.
“You should really watch where you’re going, Daring,” Malayar playfully scolded, wearing a grin.
Daring’s face was flushed with embarrassment. She shot him a dull look, before, once more, a smile graced her face; cheeks still red. “Yeah, yeah, keep walking. We’re almost there...”
The curio shop was… curious, to say the least. Malayar’s green eyes would not have looked out of place someplace on the store owner’s shelves, and the zebra was almost afraid that the wrong glance would end up with his precious oculars meeting such a fate. The lighting of the interior came mostly from a few, half-melted candles, only a few scarce rays of the warm griffon sun peaking through narrow cracks in curtained windows. Whilst Daring approached the counter and tapped the bell, Malayar secluded himself by the safest, non-creepy corner of the shop. Of course, he couldn’t restrain his curiosity and scanned the various curious with subtle, almost guilty glances.
Finally, there was a rattle of beads, and from a back room a large, stout griffon emerged into the lowlight. He looked almost twice the size of Daring, layered with as much muscle as he was feathered. He was immaculately well kept, despite the haggard appearance of the shop interior, his golden yellow feathered well preened and shiny; his dense grey plumage soft. However despite his groomed exterior, Malayar was unsettled by the smile fixed on his face, hiding something within. Malayar must have stared for too long, as his eyes for a brief flicker of a second, met with the griffon’s sapphire hues. Before the zebra could look away, the griffon chose to do so first, introducing himself to Daring’s warm simper with one of his own, leaning on his counter with his thick arms.
“Daring!” he greeted boisterously, giving a wide, welcoming gesture with one of his arms. His voice was a contrasting mixture of deep and flamboyant. “How long has it been?”
“Too long, Rupert. Too long,” she replied, leaning across the counter to meet the griffon in a half-hug, parting after a moment to plant her hooves back on the ground. “What have you been up to?”
“Oh, nothing much. Same old same old. Expanding my ever-growing size of trinkets and curios, turning chaste chicks into moaning harlots and rigidly straight guys into bendy strawed queers. But enough about me and my fantastic existence, what of you, my daring darling?”
Daring laughed at his candour, shrugging. “Same as always. Travelling the world, meeting all kinds of folks and ending up knee-deep in some bog someplace.”
“All in the name of procuring precious antiquity, preserving past relics, and saving the day. Oh, and how could I forget: to get material worth writing about, yes?” he spoke bored tone of voice yet still wore a playful smile.
“You read my work?” she asked, sceptical, brow full cocked.
“Hmm, maybe? I think I may have one of your books around here somewhere, propping up a shelf. Either that or I used it for kindling sometime back. They are awfully thick,” he spoke in partial jest, giving a humoured smile. Although, his attention was quickly grabbed by the zebra loitering in his shop’s corner, a smarmy smile coming to his beak. “Eh, and what of that fine specimen over there,” he inquired, pointing a subtle talon at the meek zebra, who was too preoccupied with looking anywhere but the griffon to notice. “He’s not simply another artefact to put in the museum, is he? Although I wouldn’t blame you. He’s quite a catch.”
“A friend and colleague,” she answered directly, her tone contrastingly firm to her previous cadence.
“Shame. He looks like a delicious morsel. I imagine he’d make for splendid company,” he replied, his gaze flickering to the zebra.
Daring rolled her eyes. If the griffon had less control he would be drooling by now. “Oh, what? Am I not enough, Rupety?” she bantered with a playful smirk.
“Hmm, as much as I enjoy having you around, Daring, your visits are never just cordial,” he said slyly, resting is head on the palm of his talons. “You always want something. So have to wonder: what it could be this time?”
“Oh, you know why I’m here, Rupert,” she spoke with a knowing smile.
He exhaled through his nostrils derisively. “Let’s say, hypothetically I did have in my possession such a valuable, rare and much sought after artefact. What could possibly offer me in return?”
Daring released a salacious smirk, leaning on the counter and getting rid of some of the space between them. “Bits. A lot of bits. The good feeling that comes naturally with being a samaritan, of course,” she wore an innocuous smile with that final remark, tracing circles on the counter.
“Hmm, tempting. But I know you can sweeten the deal,” he inched his beak towards her, his voice going to a seductive low.
Daring reciprocated the closeness, wearing a sultry smile. “I thought it went without saying, Rupert. Bits and a fuck with-”
“Deal,” he cut her off prematurely, outstretching his hand towards her with a limp grip, wearing a sly grin.
Daring smirked. The griffon was more akin to a rabbit than an avian, his libido insatiable. She stretched out her hoof, allowing it to be grabbed his talons and shook. “Deal.”
“Fantastic,” he said with a low tone, voice dripping with eagerness as he uncurled his talons from around her hoof. He couldn’t look any happier as he turned his lumbering frame, walking partway through the divider before looking back to Daring with a grin. “I will be back in but a moment.”
“And I’ll still be here,” she responded, giving the griffon’s form a once over as he disappeared. She swallowed down her apprehension, releasing a subtle exhale, not wanting to give Malayar any cause to worry...
Daring, more often than not, was dishonest about offering up her pussy for a relic. She had no problem lying to criminals, or to the faces of stallions and mares she was never going to see again. Unfortunately, Rupert was a necessity in her line of work and a face she had to become familiar with. She pursued artefacts just as he pursued money, and they were both relentless in their respective chases. It just so happened that relics and ancient treasures were worth a lot of money. So, as a result, they met rather frequently. How she ended up coming through with sharing a bed with the griffon was a story in of itself. The mare oft came across a lot of funds in her various lines of work. Museum bounties, book sales and temple gold. She frequently had a fat bank account at the end of every month. However, he acquired wealth evaporated rather quickly, going into preservation, charity and travel expenses. She didn't live in a secluded hut for the sake of humility after all...
She had to re-do her accounting after meeting Rupert, having to set aside a hefty sum just to make sure she could afford the steep prices he attached to the supposedly priceless relics. She had to compete with others, others who would utilise such treasures for... unsavoury things. There was an instance, about two years after she met the griffon, where she was engaged in a bidding war with a maniac minotaur on a crusade to destroy every last remnant of the Hoaxolotle as he possibly could. She threw out an offer of five hundred bits, he threw out a thousand. She countered with an offer with double that amount, he retorted with quadruple the number. With that she was out of options. She watched Rupert prepare to hand the decorative bust over, and when it was just shy of entering his meaty hands she spat out the most valuable thing she had left: herself. Why she didn't simply go back on the offer was simple. You can rarely lie to the same face twice. He accepted, of course, few would turn down such a once in the lifetime opportunity.
Rupert was a hardened sort of griffon. Although flaboyant and queer in his mannerisms, he was brutal at business. However, the same couldn't be said of his finances. He had a weakness, one Daring always kept close to her chest but had never utilised until then. One thing they had in common ironically was their quick expenditure of funds, although Rupert's weakness wasn't a lack of money, it was what he spent it on: himself. He was a decadent hedonist, self-indulgent with a libido of immeasurable size. Daring thought about utilising his weakness in the form of distracting him with prostitutes whilst swiping a valuable, or getting on his good side with a rare bottle of Equestrian Bat wine to procure an early chance at something particularly good. She could laugh at it now. In trying to screw him over, she ended up getting screwed herself.
Daring remembered her first time with him right then and there. She felt unclean at first, but he had a knack for making her not feel used. He did remind her that she wasn't a prostitute, almost as though he was reading her thoughts at that moment. He went down on her, and right there at the counter she squeezed together her thighs. He certainly knew how to work that tongue, and he knew pussies as intimately as she knew history. Although the next thoughts in her mind was that of the sex and she winced. He was a rough lay, his need to be in control wasn't limited to just his business transactions and he tried to remind her of that. His talons wrapped around her throat, his large heavier body atop hers. Even after so much foreplay he still struggled to fit, but the fact he jammed himself inside of her was to remind Daring that her cunt was being conquered, stretched. In fact, he was rather vocal about that. Conquering. However, unlike his other bedfellows, Daring fought for control in his bed. Competition is healthy, even in sex. He wrapped his talons around her neck, she smiled in defiance. He lay on top, she tried to roll him over. He pushed inside of her, and her hind legs pressed against his stomach, controlling his thrusts. With that in mind, she was almost bathed in an air of nostalgia, she recalled how she reacted upon seeing his appendage for the first time. She winced. Whilst the average stallion might have been larger than the average griffon, Rupert doubly subverted her expectations by shattering both the averages of his brethren and ponies. His was a cock as intimidating as his frame. It was heavy and pink, imperfect with plump blue veins going from hilt to tapered tip. His girth made her jaw ache at the thought, but her pussy ached at the thought of his knot, his insistence of hilting himself in whatever hole he could force himself into was certainly an annoyance. Although, with his cock in her head, she suddenly smiled. Her new ‘addition’ would give them another field to compete in. She would definitely have to take him for a spin... if she can get on 'top' that is.
"I'm back," Rupert announced, coming out from the back, a large red chest under his arm. "Already I see that you can't take your eyes off it," he grinned, placing it on the counter with an indelicate thud.
He was correct on that, and even after pointing it out the pegasus continued to stare at with a clamped jaw, her eyes wide. "If that's what you say it is, then I have all the reason to," she replied before looking up at him, her gaze deadly serious. "If you're lying or tried to pawn me a fake-"
"Come now, Daring. You offend me with such a claim. Of all the crooks you've met, have you known one who was as honest as I?" he chuckled, his talon flipping down the latch on the small chest. Daring watched closely as he raised the lid, and as it rose, her jaw made a slow continuous descent.
She was speechless. After a moment of allowing her brain to catch up, she manually closed her mouth with the aid of her hoof, summoning the will to speak. “T-the Seventh Emerald of Motetiani! You actually have it! How did you get this?” Daring inquired, unable to look away from the shiny green jewel. Flawlessly cut, the pegasus was staring upon a true treasure, one piece of seven to an ancient wonder. With this, her decade long search for the entire set was complete.
He gave a deep, mirthful chuckle, enjoying the look on her face. “I have my ways. I have my ways,” the stout griffon answered vaguely, wearing a smug smile on his dull yellow beak. “Now, about my paymen-”
“Check your safe,” she replied immediately, still peering over the impressive jewel.
Rupert blinked, wearing a gormless face as he shrugged. “What safe?”
“The one you keep behind a portrait of yourself in the bedroom,” she countered his feigned ignorance with a cocky grin and sideways look. “Sixty nine, forty two, double zero, ninety six.”
Rupert wore a blank expression, one he held for only a few moments before throwing his head back to release howling laughter from his beak. “Oh ho, Daring.. I don’t know if I should be mortified or impressed you manage to find it so often and crack it.”
“Count yourself lucky I don’t know where you hide the good stuff,” she chortled, before focusing back on the jewel. “Not I would be be able to find them under all that junk...” she added under her breath.
“Now, on the subject of sweetening the deal…”.
She finally tore her eyes away from the jewel, a lusty smile gracing her face. “I’ll meet you in back in ten minutes. I just need to-”
He silenced her with a raised palm, the grin he wore suddenly became predatory. “Oh, I don’t need you to go in back, Daring," he informed, pointing over her with a lecherous look in his eye. "I need him.”
She looked to Malayar, who remained oblivious to the proceedings, flipping through the pages of a thick dusty book. She shot a glare at Rupert, teeth bared. "Our deal-"
"Bits and a fuck," he reminded her. "Who I get to fuck wasn't exactly made clear."
She slapped a hoof down on the counter, growling. "Don't be facetious, Rupert. It has always been me. We fuck, and you shed a few bits off the price. It has always been that way."
“Precisely why I hunger for something else my sweet,” he still spoke to her affectionately despite the look on her face. "Do you know how few zebras come through this part of the world? At most, I am lucky to bed some corsair or sailor. They're always so rough and hardy. The one in your company looks... soft, delicate. Pleading for a real pounding," he elaborated, "Even from all the way over here I can tell his tastes are... particular. Not as much of a free spirit as I admittedly, but I can tell from his contours that he prefers a masculine touch to run down them. If not that, he might just prefer a nice hard cock, one which I'm eager to give him," as he spoke, Daring could see his certainty grow. He leant forward, his voice becoming quiet. "I can only imagine how pent up he is if he has been stuck travelling with you. Jungles, boats, one place to the next, no dicks within a hundred miles - unless you count bark dogs and manticores. And no, not even I am that debaucherous. I doubt he is either. So who knows, if you ask him, he might even look forward to it..."
Her grimace deepened as he spoke. Not because he was right but because he was wrong. Most nights, Malayar and she slept back to back, a long hard appendage well within reach of the zebra's hooves. She was more than capable of satisfying him. Oddly though, he didn't seem to be in need of such a thing. The same couldn't be said of herself however. The curse imbued her with a form of hyper fertility, her cum factories overproducing so much spunk that if she didn't 'release' at least twice a day her gonads would increase to the size of cantaloupes; her bludgenous cock refusing to go back into its sheath until the pressure was relieved. Whether or not the zebra suffered the same pressure was yet to be known to her. He did... look at her every so often. The kinds of glances and glimpses he always pretended never happened when she met her eyes with his. Sometimes it would just be herself out in public, in more private occasions however when she was actually bare he tried extra hard to make it look like he wasn't looking, which just made it all the more obvious. Daring Do knew he must have felt something. He wanted a cock, or he wanted her. Rupert's deal might give her an answer to that.
She looked to her stripy colleague, half-frowning. He was completely unaware. "Is there any other way?" she asked half-heartedly, already knowing the answer.
"I have one other client who is very interested in acquiring this piece. If you would rather see it in his hoo-"
"Wait," she interrupted, looking back to the griffon. She knew he was completely wrapped around his talon, and she could do nothing about it. "If I... manage to convince him, will you promise not to be so rough with him?"
"I can go soft for a time. But you know me, Daring. I prefer not to restrain myself if I can help it," he said, giving a humoured chuckle but from experience, the pegasus knew he was completely serious. "But don't worry. You'll get him back after I'm finished with him."
She huffed, sneering. "I want him back just as you got him."
"I can't promise that either... he might be plastered with a satisfied smile," he half-assured, leaning on the counter. "Now hurry, I can only keep my composure for so long. I'm not to blame if I throw myself on him."
"Yeah yeah," she exhaled, frustrated, and turned from the counter, heading towards the zebra...
Malayar glanced to Daring, the old tome he was reading, then Daring again, a smile coming to his features. "Oh, did you get it?" Malayar asked upon her approach. The half-hearted smile she wore somewhat worrying but the zebra remained optimistic.
"O-oh, I have it," she answered with uneasy conviction, awkwardly scratching the back of her head as she forced herself to maintain the smile. "There's just a teeny, tiny clause I have to fulfil to get it."
"Oh? What is it?" he inquired, stepping closer with some concern. "He doesn't want to... use you, does he?" he asked quietly, brows furrowed and frowning.
"If only..." she muttered under her breath, releasing a sigh. "He wants you," she told him directly, foregoing any more delays.
He stepped back from her, surprised. "W-what? Me? D-do what with me?" his voice resumed its regular volume, some of the white on his face erased, replaced with pink.
"Sex," she replied, trying to play it off casually yet still chose to wear her forced smile.
"S-sex?!" he exclaimed, now terrified. "With him, a complete s-stranger?"
"I don't have to be!" Rupert called back, cackling.
"It's the jewel, Malayar," Daring said, trying to bring the zebra's attention back to her. "The one I've been trying to get for almost ten years now. If we... if you don't do this, we might never see it again."
The zebra's attention was back on Daring. He didn't have a firm eye on her, torn between looking to the ground or the side. He fidgeted in place, flushed in the face. "I d-don't know. Isn't there any other way?"
She sighed, shaking her head. "I've been dealing with Rupert for almost as long as I've been looking at the emerald. If there was an alternative, I would have taken it."
Malayar's mouth tightened as he looked away from her. The next few minutes saw his face twitch numerous times and tighten as he thought on what to do. "Daring, I-"
He was silenced mid-sentence by a hoof on his shoulder, Daring's expression downcast. "What was I thinking?” I’m sorry. You don't have to do this, whoring yourself out for a stupid emerald. I was being selfish and-"
"I'll do it," he cut in, wearing an awkward smile.
Daring blinked. "You will?"
"I did help you get stuck with a penis. This is the least I can do. But after this? We're even," he beamed at her, and she smiled back. Still, under his happy veneer, he felt anxious, queasy. But it wouldn't be all that bad...
Of all the locations the zebra had traversed, been to, or found himself trapped in due in no small part to Daring’s recklessness, he had never been in a more certifiably hopeless as Rupert’s bedroom. Malayar couldn’t help but compare the immense congestion and fullness of the griffon’s private quarters to the hustle and bustle of the streets surrounding it. Whilst the walls were spaced out far enough to give Rupert quite a spacious quarter, Malayar was forced to compress himself just to fit, with countless boxes, wrapped paintings and closed chests forming a makeshift corridor straight to the bed. On top of all this, there was also a very different kind of ‘congestion’, with myriad half-burnt incense and candles burning in select places around the room. Malayar didn’t like to think on it, but he surmised that the combined smells and densely packed air were to ‘hide’ the smells that would come later. Whilst the room certainly the most hazardous of fire hazards, an example of what you should not do with a room, that was the least of the zebra’s worries.
"Malayar. Mal-a-yar... Mall-arr-yarr," Rupert repeated his name whilst staring at the ceiling, like someone savouring a pleasant flavour. The zebra whose name he ‘tasted’ would have been flattered of the circumstances weren’t so... coercive. After being led to the bedroom, Rupert was quick to get comfortable, laying languid on the large circular bed like some pampered oversized cat. The bed was largest the zebra had seen, and Malayar detested to think what his sheets would look like under a black light. To further saturate the zebra’s mind with myriad uncomfortable feelings, the large picture Rupert had of himself over the bed was distractingly vain and superfluous. It conjured uncomfortable questions. Namely, how many remnant strains on the bed were directly caused by Rupert paying tribute to himself in the portrait? If someone had such a high level of arrogance to commission such a thing, they would have an unfathomably high opinion of themselves. “You’re looking awfully hard at my bed,” Rupert suddenly said, drawing Malayar out of his own head. “Why don’t you stop mulling it over and join me already?” he inquired with a smile, patting the space next to himself invitingly.
Malayar gulped. He continued towards the bed with reluctant steps, unable to look eye to eye with the lecherous griffon. Every step he felt like above the legs he was wading through an invisible thick smog, the incense burnt in his nostrils just as his cheeks did. He began to suspect the slow burning sticks weren’t just to foster a seductive atmosphere. By the time he reached the bed, his cheeks were in a state of permanent flush. He had to keep centred in his mind who he was doing this for, hopping upon the soft mattress and pink sheets, awkwardly meeting the griffon’s lustful grin with an awkward smile. Rupert had no aversions to… displaying himself. Out of the corner of his eye, Malayar glanced a huge pair of balls resting on their owner’s large powerful thigh. They were downright distracting. So in fact, the zebra was forced to look Rupert awkwardly in the eye to stop himself stealing looks. Never mind the dauntingly large, tapered tip that poked from the plump furry sheath the massive gonads were attached to. Malayar tried pushing the inevitable to the back of his mind.
Rupert smirked, idly making circles with his talon. “You’re awfully nervous. It’s been a while since I’ve had a pensive lover. Are you a virgin?”
When he was asked, Malayar’s head flashed with the memories of his first, awkward bout with another stallion in his mid-teens. He then remembered the… incident, involving the golden idol. “No, I-I’m not.”
The griffon half-shrugged using the shoulder of the arm not propping up his head. “Shame. That would have been truly unforgettable. But it also has a silver lining I suppose. If that were the case – your cock and holes having been untouched – Daring would probably have demanded I shave some bits off the price of her next purchase. Of course, I’m a master negotiator and would have gotten you with the same deal I stuck now, but still, no hassle, no stress.”
Although he should of scoffed at the griffon’s arrogance, he was stung by the subject of his worth. With a slight frown, he said, “She’s not my-”
“Pimp? Of course not. She’s not nearly that interesting. I also know my way around the common whore to know that you’re not one,” he said casually, giving a toothless grin. “See you, prostitute, whores and sluts – both male and female – have it in their purview to look fuckable. Almost like a dress code but exclusively for harlots. So when you actually get down to the act and shower off the night’s activities the next morning, you see someone who barely qualifies as a daywalker. You look fuckable without cheating, like me. Rather impressive.”
“T-thanks...?” Malayar wasn’t quite sure how to parse that. His looks were never really something he took into consideration but he also struggled to absorb the griffon’s compliment, if it was one at all.
Rupert seemed to read his face, giving a partial roll of the eyes. “You’re attractive. But you’re also exotic, and around here, zebras are as rare as an honest griffon. And, I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m rather partial to the rare and exotic,” he finished by gesturing around the room with his free arm.
“Soooo.. you like my stripes?” Malayar probed, trying to ascertain the source of the griffon’s lust for him. If the fire in Rupert’s loins wasn’t caused by the scenario of coercion, then what?
The question came in the midst of his sweeping gesture, which then swung back around so that Rupert could point a lazy talon at the zebra. “Your striped hide isn’t all that I fancy, no, no,” he answered, waggling the digit. “If I wanted that, I would only need a bucket of black paint, a brush, and someone who doesn’t mind a morning of rigorous scrubbing,” he said, raising each talon to the corresponding requirement. Next, he gestured to Malayar, his eyes hungrily looking him up and down. “Now, for what I like? You’ll have to come closer...”
Malayar was understandably wary but he would have to get close to the lecher sooner or later. Especially if he had to fulfil his part of the Daring’s deal. But also, he was shamefully curious. Clenching his jaw and nodding, he took several tentative steps towards the prone dealer, the emerging grin on Rupert’s face threatened to stop his legs but he carried on across the soft, bouncy mattress. He stopped close enough to cast a shadow over Rupert, his chin raised in a slight attempt to put some small distance between Rupert and himself.
“Okay, I’m closer. What-”
“Closer,” he sang, tapping the small space between them. He furrowed his brows, and inched even closer to the toying griffon, whose leer became all the more perverted. “Don’t be a prude now, Malayar...”
Malayar finally understood what the griffon desired, grimacing at the realisation. He became parallel to his languid figure, lowering to his stomach, and turning onto his side; his back now pressed against Rupert’s chest. “Close enough?” he asked flippantly, not looking back.
“I know how we could be even closer,” he teased, wrapping a feathered arm around the zebra’s stomach. Malayar was acutely aware of how close Rupert’s talons were to his sheath, and he had to suppress the urge to squirm uncomfortably, his cheeks still fiery red from a combination of embarrassment and the mysterious incense. “But I think foreplay should come first, don’t you agree? You don’t strike me as being particularly loose.”
“Weren’t y-you going t-to tell me-” Malayar stopped himself bit sentence, his cheeks pulling back into an uncomfortable grimace. Rupert was lightly nipping at his ear and neck as he spoke, and hand had taken a trip down South. His digits were a lot more nimble than blunt clumsy hooves, and soon the zebra found his generously sized balls at the end of a gentle molesting. Now, no longer propping up the griffon’s head, Malayar soon felt some more digits slide under his side and soon his barrel was groped and stroked under Rupert’s palm. Malayar finally knew the effects of the incense. The griffon’s touch was accentuated against his nerve endings. The zebra forced himself out of his wincing, trying to ignore the pleasant warmth growing in his groin and spat out, “why you wanted m-me?”
“You’re just delaying,” Rupert cooed, nipping at his cheek, Malayar trying with futility to get away from them, “but alright.”
To the zebra’s relief, Rupert ceased the massaging of his full black churners to put that hand on his flank. His fingers sunk into his coat, squeezing his plump rump with a delighted hum as his other digits traversed up the zebra’s chest and neck to cradle his jaw. His gliding talons made his fur stand on end, somehow touching him deeper than they appeared to. With a soft grip on his jaw, Rupert forced him to turn his head and face the griffon. For the life of him, Malayar couldn’t bring himself to slam shut his eyes, forced to look deeply into the bottomless blue hues of the griffon.
“You have a pretty mouth,” he remarked directly, lowering his beak towards the zebra. His first reason. Again, Malayar found himself helpless to the griffon’s machinations, his mouth opening instinctively with the parting of his beak. It was a sloppy, awkward kiss. There was no malleable factor to Rupert’s beak, but his large tongue made up for the lack of melding, pushing against Malayar’s tongue forcing it back into the zebra’s own gob. Malayar didn’t count how long his tongue partook in the skirmish until Rupert pulled away, a string of spit connecting the griffon’s grinning beak to the zebra’s already beleaguered mouth.
“Wha- ahh,” the zebra mewled suddenly, an involuntary response to the griffon’s sudden squeezing of his rear. The incense amplified every touch, every penetrating graze send unmistakable shivers of arousal throughout him. By now, his obsidian black member began to pour free of its sheath; twitching with precum even before it had entirely left its fleshly den.
Even when the zebra’s body had betrayed him for lust, the griffon didn’t proceed. If Malayar had any coherency in his head, he would have damned himself. Was this what Rupert wanted, or would the griffon have won either way? Regardless, the griffon wasn’t done yet. “You’re a stallion but you’re built like prime breeding stock,” was the griffon’s second reason, speaking salaciously, he talons sensually stroked up and down the zebra’s plump haunches; the flared out hips of the zebra made the griffon’s remark undeniable. “And I would make a remark about your eyes but you’ve clenched them shut. Or your adorably submissive face. But I can see you’re beyond caring by now. How about we skip to ten?”
“Ahh!” Before Malayar could protest, he moaned, his cock giving a forlorn twitch, each bead of pre a needy tear for stimuli. The griffon had coated his talons with spit, beginning to trace a sloppy circle around his puffy ass ring. His sensitive nerves accentuated the feeling so much, Malayar felt as though the griffon was only a hair’s width away from his prostate. His ass clenched around an intruder that hadn’t even entered yet, the griffon’s chuckle muted in his ears, softened over the sound of his own groaning.
“You have one of the most fuckable asses I’ve ever seen,” Rupert’s remark came with a puncturing digit, his spit covered talon pushing with ease into the zebra’s hole. Malayar clenched around it, the griffon’s remarkably soft talon didn’t have to do anything within him to provoke a response that Malayar couldn’t help but give. He squirmed with twitching legs and throbbing cock, biting his bottom lip to suppress a howling scream of bliss. Malayar seemed to register nought else but the inescapable pleasure of the moment, his hooves curled to grip the sheets. The next thing he heard from the griffon was a single word coinciding with the exit of his talon. It dripped with a depraved intent. “Delicious.”
Malayar was flipped suddenly onto his stomach, his cloudy head experienced vertigo from the suddenness of the act. Remaining inert to combat the dizziness, he felt a pair of hands hold his hips firm, preventing him from sliding his needy cock up and down the soft silk bedsheets to achieve some sort of fulfilment. His body wanted more, his mind did not, yet his more primal need was starting to dwarf his common sense. Before he could look back to see what Rupert had planned, he already felt it.
Rupert’s last word wasn’t simply a compliment. It was what he intended to do with the zebra’s plump derrière. The large tongue already started to trace Malayar’s ring, coating it with plenty of wet, slimy spit. For the first time Rupert hadn’t focused his eyes on the zebra’s face to gauge a reaction, focused entirely on the obscene cleaning of the zebra’s black ponut. Occasionally his tongue would drift South to lick up the stallion’s taint, tasting the feminine zebra’s essence in the form of sweat and musk. This didn’t distract him too much from the zebra’s tight ring, which he began to poke and prod at with increasing levels of pressure, building up to the precise force to slip his tongue past the zebra’s back entrance.
Malayar’s head was thrown back to let out a howl of ecstasy as Rupert’s tongue finally pushed its way unto his rectum, his sphincter’s involuntary clenching did nothing to stop the wet wiggling intruder from conquering the pushed in exit. Even if it wasn’t his target, Rupert’s size meant that he couldn’t avoid ‘touching the sides’. Malayar tried to squirm but even whilst digging deep into his rectum with his tongue, Rupert kept an iron grip on his sides, keeping his still. He was forced to endure, forced to wait for some relief from the griffon’s deliberate torment.
By the time Rupert stopped, Malayar felt exhausted. His cock was painfully hard beneath him, sandwiched between his pre matted stomach and pre stained sheets. It was an achievement. Through a combination of his own actions and dubious incense, Malayar was sure his arousal now peaked higher than his lust under the effects of the curse some months ago. Rupert certainly knew what he was doing.
“I think that’s enough. I would have stopped earlier but I promised Daring I wouldn’t do too much damage,” he spoke, Malayar’s ears barely receptive to what was being said. The griffon’s talons finally moved down from Malayar’s hips to his butt – the zebra too fatigued to hump the bed – and he squeezed and massaged the plump rump. “Although, I don’t think I could bring myself to ruin such a fine piece of ass. I’ll conquer it, true. Annex it. But I will be a gentle despot. Total destruction would be too costly.”
Malayar was unsure if the war metaphors were actually uttered by the griffon or merely some kind sex-fatigue provoked delirium. He had enough to strength to turn his head at least, to see the griffon climb over him, his shadow cast over him. This position made Rupert’s size seem even more daunting, the stout griffon could crush him if his arms and legs gave out. However, nothing about the griffon seemed quite as daunting as that which hung beneath him, heavy and thick, long and proud. Malayar had never seen a griffon’s cock before, his weary eyes staring at it with a combination of fascination and reluctant longing. Even under his shadow the pink hue of Rupert’s prick didn’t seem dulled. Malayar was also struck by its shape. Whilst his own was cylindrical, capped with a wide blunt head, the griffon’s cock had a large knot at its girthsome base – the kind he knew dogs to have – with the tip tapered with a point that seemed purpose-made to puncture its way into a snug warm hole. Its sheer size looked likely to split him in two but in an objective sense, the dick was only slightly larger than Daring’s own when she had relieved herself. However, when attached to such a lumbering frame, the size appeared accentuated and much more intimidating.
“Inside or outside?” Rupert asked, looking down at the zebra, his large dick throbbing beneath him.
“W-what?” Malayar asked, barely able to look away from the griffon’s primed and eager dick.
“Do you want your bowels painted white, or would you like some extra stripes on your coat?”
Malayar was taken aback. The question was asked with the casualness one might ask someone for their choice of ice cream toppings. He couldn’t make such a choice without sounding whorish. Merely mulling it over prompted his cheeks to turn redder. “I- Uh- I think- Um...” he stuttered, silence only by the griffon talon brushing his cheek.
“I’ll give you some time to think on it,” Rupert spoke with a smirk, then using that same hand to reach under himself, gripping his cock below ‘barrel’ of his ‘cannon’, angling it downwards. “You might want to bite the sheets,” he warned with a dark simper, “unless you want to be heard out on the streets. It would be inconvenient if some guards forced their way in and saw us in such a position, yes?”
Malayar’s eyes parted wide. It was probably exaggeration but the zebra – even with how deeply submerged his head was in lust – knew that Rupert wasn’t going to stop once he started, even if the noises from his mouth were pained screams. At best he’d make a racket, at worst, Daring would come in. Malayar clamped his teeth between the sheets once again and braced himself. At first, he felt Rupert’s gargantuan member poke against his anus, the piercing tip aligning perfectly with the centre of the zebra’s tight black pucker. Malayar clenched his eyes shut as he felt Rupert steadily apply more pressure until his hole began to part. He released a pained groan that was muffled by a mouthful of silk.
Rupert pushed the tip of his thick dick into his butt, Malayar’s spit covered hole helping ease the griffon inside but doing even less in easing the splitting sensation the femstallion was experiencing. It was only the first hurdle of a very long race but the zebra was unsure if he was able to finish it. Every inch Rupert fed into his ass left him trembling in a mixture of pain and burgeoning pleasure. The cock got fatter the further down his shaft you went, so more and more the zebra felt his prostate get crushed under the griffon’s girth. Unlike a stallionhood, there was an anticipation to the griffon’s cock. It only got bigger and bigger, the final, most terrifying hurdle – Rupert’s knot – made the zebra’s sphincter clench nervously around the fat pink prick.
“I think Daring owes me one for going this slow for you,” Rupert half-complained, half-moaned into the zebra’s ear. “Although it does have its benefits. You can’t really appreciate how tight an ass is without a measured pace,” he continued to speak, and Malayar couldn’t respond. Even if the pain had dulled somewhat, the pleasure had become exacerbated. He didn’t want to give the griffon the satisfaction of hearing him moan. “Have you ever fucked an ass? I doubt you have. You’re definitely a bottom-only type of stallion. I’ve been in a lot of asses. Pony asses are only tight, snug, at the entrance. But the way they embrace you,” he shivered, “there’s no other sensation quite like it.”
Whilst Rupert spoke he remained still, only the flapping of his beak and involuntary twitches of his cock. This left Malayar in a peculiar state of anal limbo. The griffon’s pink mast was embedded within him like a plug, twitching against his prostate. He found himself thankful that his ass would not receive his knot yet also desperate for more at the same time, the pangs of ecstasy from the strength of the griffon’s throbs were not enough to ease his need – his own cock practically pissing pre.
“Hippogriff asses are-”
“P-please!” Malayar exclaimed, interrupting the griffon before looking back at him. “Stop t-talking and get it over with already,” he pleaded, trying to sound more annoyed than desperate.
Rupert clearly picked up on his need, shifting his hips just softly enough to ellicit a wince and mewl from the zebra, scoffing before wearing a malicious grin. “Okay,” he sang, leaning closer, “but you have to beg-”
“Please, please, just fuck me already! I can’t take it!”
Rupert pouted. “You’re not fun. I expected just a smidge of defiance. Maybe a year or two with Daring Do will do you some good,” Rupert spoke, disappointed. Malayar’s expression trembled down, and Rupert almost reared his head in shock. “Don’t get upset! Geesh. Maybe I should have gone lighter on the incense...” he mused.
Before the zebra could complain some more, Rupert withdrew his shaft, leaving only the tip. Before the zebra could take another breath he slammed back in with enough force to knock out the breath he already held. The force of the thrust was delivered with the same intensity a blacksmith would take to his anvil. Malayar’s prostate was smashed with enough of Rupert’s lust that he couldn’t suppress the scream that was released from his gullet, one of unmitigated pleasure. His cock was pushed all the way to the knot but he clearly wasn’t satisfied with that. As quick as the first time he withdrew from the zebra’s succulent bottom, he slammed back in, trying desperately to bottom out in the lithe stallion. As far as Rupert was concerned, he succeeded in being careful, now was his time for some real fun.
Relentlessly, he began to pound the zebra’s fuckhole with abandon, steadily getting harder and harder, trying to force his fat knot into the zebra’s behind. Malayar could feel his hole start to give way to the thickest part of the griffon’s cock but he could barely acknowledge it. He was swimming in utter bliss. Every thrust of the griffon’s magnificent fuckstick made him tremble and seize, as though each deep burying lance was accompanied by a bolt lightning going down his spine. It was an intoxicating feeling, one that left him drunk on ecstasy and his senses sluggish. After myriad attempts, Rupert gave his strongest thrust yet. His talons grabbed the zebra’s shoulder and with a loud grunt of exertion and pleasure, he forced the entirety of his meat within the stallion’s makeshift pussy. Malayar let out a silent scream. He was split in two – metaphorically – impaled on the thickest piece of cockflesh his cavity had the misfortune of ever taking.
Rupert gave him no respite however.
Immediately came a merciless butt stabbing. Each thrust was delivered as strongly as the one used to bury his knot within the zebra’s taut hole. Now that he was fully embedded, the griffon’s large balls smacked against the zebra’s taint as he slammed into him. The forcefulness of the thrusts rocked the bed, and Malayar’s cock was given some much needed friction as it slid up and down the sheets in time with Rupert’s rough thrusting. This was Rupert’s bread and butter. There was no special technique at play, no consideration for the other. Just pure, carnal, fucking. It was merely coincidence that Malayar drooled onto the sheets from both mouth and cock, Rupert’s massive dick milking his prostate for everything it was worth.
Unsurprisingly under such an assault, Malayar released a breathless gasp as his balls clenched, his thighs tensed, and his cock swelled as he released shot after shot of thick white jizz from his flared crown. Even after becoming limp and laying atop a small puddle of cum Rupert continued to thrust into the spent zebra’s asshole without a discernable end. His deep lancing thrusts were delivered with the same selfish ferocity. When Malayar regained some coherency, starting to raise his head, he was pushed back down into the sheets. The zebra’s eyes rolled back into his head when he felt Rupert swell even thicker, each thrust accompanied by a fierce growl as his talons wrapped around his mane. Malayar’s eyes shot wide open when Rupert went even faster than before, feral even, smashing his hips against his striped ass as the griffon neared his own climax.
“In or out?” Rupert asked through a growl, still pushing the zebra’s head into the matress.
“W-wha-”
“In or out.”
“In!” the zebra answered without thinking. From the way he smirked, Rupert must of liked the answer.
Without warning the griffon hilted himself inside the zebra, knot and all, and just when Malayar thought the griffon’s unit couldn’t get any thicker – it did. The knot embedded inside of him inflated, becoming as twice as thick as it was before. The shock of this was so great that Malayar didn’t even try to escape what came next – not that he could. From the pointed tip of Rupert’s shaft, the zebra felt a warm gush of cum fill him. Against his taint the griffon’s huge sack clenched as torrents of thick viscous batter painted the walls of Malayar’s bowels, rope after rope was squeezed and fired from the tapered tip and Malayar didn’t really have any idea how much was unleashed – only that he now felt very warm after such a large injection of piping hot cum. When the griffon’s cock gave is final throb after what felt like an eternity – but was really only ten seconds – Malayar knew the griffon was spent of seed. He heard several heavy breaths from above, then quiet… Then right after, his warm interior was now joined by a very warm exterior, as he was suddenly smothered from above by Rupert’s feathered body. He was lighter than he looked.
“I’m one sixth diamond dog,” Rupert revealed suddenly, out of breath. After a few more deep inhales he spoke again. “If my libido and this-” he wiggled his weakly hips, emphasising his knot “-required a genetic explanation, then that would be it.”
“What are you talking about?” Malayar asked, exhausted, barely able to respond at all. Only the afterglow was keeping him conscious.
“Griffon knots don’t typically inflate. That’s what I’m talking about,” he elaborated, snuggling. “I’m familiar with lots of penises, so-” the griffon stopped himself mid-sentence, releasing a whimsical scoff. “Doesn’t matter. This gives us more time to enjoy the cuddles.”
Malayar blinked. “What?”
“Cuddles. I enjoy all aspects of sex. Before and after included. I’m not going to pretend that this is my favourite part but it’s still enjoyable.”
Malayar had nothing to say about that. Admittedly, he did enjoy the sensation of being hugged whilst under the effects of post-coital bliss. He wouldn’t let Rupert know that. With a tired eye he glanced to one of the burning sticks, the incense that fuelled such a positive response from within him. “What are those?”
“Hmm?” Rupert responded, following Malayar’s eye. “Oh, the incense? A collection of aphrodisiac, amphetamines. Some painkillers-”
“P-painkiller?”
“Oh, yeah… right,” for the first time the griffon seemed flustered, releasing a nervous chuckle. “You will definitely need to take things easy tomorrow. You’ll feel what I did to you come sunrise.”
Malayar cringed, closing his eyes. “I hate you.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Rupert replied, snuggling the zebra as he held him tighter, releasing a contented sigh; his knot still lodged deep within his ass. “Had sex.”
When Malayar fell to sleep, he slept the entire night…
Daring carried the jewel on her back, giving the zebra who walked alongside her furtive glances. “Tha-”
“Not a word,” Malayar cut her off pre-emptively.
“I just want to say-”
“I already know...” the zebra interrupted, releasing a sigh.
The two walked through the spacious halls of the museum, walking by precious artefacts and relics. Malayar wondered how many of them were acquired from through the stout griffon. Remembering Rupert only brought the zebra’s mind back to his limp. A slowly fading reminder of the griffon’s rough pounding of his cute bottom. Daring thanked him for his ‘sacrifice’ almost every waking hour for every single day of the trip back home.
At the end of the hallway, Malayar pushed open the doors to the Curator’s office. The zebra had some measure of familiarity with the old stallion. He had as much enthusiasm for history as Daring and he did and eagerly anticipated the arrival of the jewel the pegasus beside him carried on her back...
“I can’t believe it. You actually got it!” the curator exclaimed with awe, the aged stallion circling around the emerald with a surprising amount of spryness. Daring and Malayar – whose posture was rigid and formal - shared a look and awkward grin before their directing their eyes back at the giddy old stallion. The old grey pony looked at the pair, stopping, wonder in his eyes. “Where did you get it? How did you get it?”
“Uh...” they both trailed off, their eyes glancing awkwardly to one another before they settled silently on an explanation to the curator. “It’s complicated.”
“Oh, well, it doesn’t matter much. I wouldn’t want to be implicated anyhow. So long as you have it,” he replied with a titter, closing the lid on the chest before holding it under his foreleg, taking it to his desk. “I’ll put this in the vault with the rest shortly.”
“Keep it safe,” Daring advised. “It was hard to get.”
“Very hard,” the zebra echoed. “Literally.”
“Right,” the Curator smiled at her, his expression suddenly becoming contemplative. “You know, it’s funny.”
“What is?” Malayar probed.
“I was in negotiations to acquire this piece for weeks, when, for no reason at all, the deal was cancelled. I was just about to snatch it up as well. Although from the very beginning I had suspected he was a fraud, it isn’t often you come across artefacts such as these, even on the black market,” the Curator explained passively as he hid the chest in a space beneath his large wooden chest. When he looked back up, he saw Daring stoic. Malayar’s jaw was trembling. “What?”
