Taste of His Own Medicine
A lone, shadowy figure skulked through the underbrush of the Everfree forest. Draped in a voluminous cloak, they’d occasionally pause, looking about or cocking their head, almost as if they feared they were being followed. Under the dark, moonless sky, quietly cursing to themselves, they tripped and stumbled along.
Spotting a pair of dim lights, set within a gnarled tree, the creature froze. Bottles hung from the timber’s limbs, twinkling like multi-colored stars, signalling the wanderer that they’d reached their destination. Hurriedly scampering forward, lightly knocking upon the oblong door, they waited for a response.
“One moment please, I’m now awake. Just wait right there, for goodness sake,” a muffled, sing-songy voice responded, followed by the sound of movement.
The tall, shrouded figure shifted uncomfortably, periodically steeling glances over their shoulder. Their journey through the forest, in the dead of night, had been only one difficult step of the journey. Even if they accomplished their goal, they’d need to retrace their steps and infiltrate one of the premier educational facilities in all of Equestria, all without being discovered.
The clicking of a lock caused them to turn, as the door creaked open. Standing in the soft glow of the tree’s interior stood a unique creature, possibly the only one of her kind. The only color on her monochromatic frame was her eyes, a deep sea green, which bored into her visitor. Raising a striated forelimb at her guest, the zebra waved for them to enter. Rushing inside, pulling the hood from over their head, the mysterious form turned to the equine.
“So...were you able to do it,” Anon asked conspiratorially, keeping his voice low.
“Your request was indeed no small task, though my success lies within that flask,” Zecora rhymed, pointing towards a table of potions. “But what you seek, I must confess, will likely lead to quite a mess…”
Anon looked over, his eyes locking on his prize. There, amongst the empty vials and beakers, sat a round bottomed bottle filled with an odd, opalescent liquid. Walking over, reverently holding the container aloft, he inspected the mystical fluid. The glimmering, viscous substance sloshed within the glass, adhering to the sides.
Though he’d had perilously little experience with equine alchemy, he knew it was capable of feats rivaling even the strongest of magic, which was exactly why he’d sought out the striped apothecary's aid. He knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, he was going to need an edge for the next twenty-four hours…
Anon’s life, even before he’d arrived in Equestria, had been a series of blunders. Lackluster grades in school, shitty jobs, and crummy luck with relationships, were the bane of his existence. He’d initially thought, upon discovering himself in a land of talking horses, he’d be in for a fresh start. Sadly, he’d been mistaken.
Sure, he’d gotten a decent job, started making friends, and everything had been going well, then his life went to hell in a hand-basket. Long story short, after inadvertently finding his dick in a veritable buffet of different creatures, things had come to a head. Pushed past the brink, with a diverse group of quadrupeds out to claim his heart and/or manhood, he’d struck a deal with the devil.
Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship and nerdom, had offered him an out. All Anon had to do was date each of the students who wanted him, giving them a day of his time. After everything was said and done, they’d cease their advances and leave him be. Of course, if he chose to court one of them, he could, but even if he didn’t, he’d be freed from their lascivious hounding.
Having already gone on dates with Ocellus, Smolder, and Silverstream, he knew Yona was next on the list. The yak, while having a heart of gold, had all the subtlety of a wrecking ball; pair that with a powerful thirst for human dick, some bone-breaking strength, and a glaring disregard for personal privacy, and she was a walking a recipe for disaster.
Knowing he would soon find himself virtually tethered to the bovidae, Anon had taken steps to prepare. The last time he and Yona had fooled around, his bed had been demolished, a substantial portion of the student body had watched them do the do, and he may have cracked a rib or two - point being, he was going to need a trump card.
Considering his three previous suitors had all dialed up their game to the next level, he assumed Yona would do the same. Hell, for all intents and purposes, ritual breeding in public may have been some part of yak society - or worse, he may even find himself passed around among the bovine women. As such, he’d contacted Zecora to brew him a secret weapon.
Anon’s specifications had been exacting. Since Yona was far physically stronger than him, despite being a relatively young yak, he needed the potion to give him amazing strength. Enhanced durability, reflexes, and heightened senses were also requested. Lastly, and most importantly, it had to act like one hell of an aphrodisiac.
His previous encounter with the bovid had been disastrous, ending with broken furniture and strained bones. Were it not for his quick thinking, employing a series of particularly violent wrestling moves while he fucked her brains out, he may have wound up with a shattered pelvis. With the event having nearly given him post traumatic stress disorder, he realized the only way he could conquer her, should she be seized by rut-lust, would be to fight fire with fire.
“A single drought is all you’ll need, to conquer one with your hot seed,” Zecora ominously tutted, drawing the man from his thoughts.
Knitting his brow, staring down at the zebra, Anon nodded. Though her words smacked of caution, he didn’t know what other options he had. If Yona got him backed into a corner, hellbent on sating herself with him, he’d be screwed - figuratively and literally. Ensuring the stopper was in place, he pocketed the flask and retrieved her payment. Neatly stacking a heap of bits on the table, he turned to depart.
“Any warnings I should know about?” he asked, pausing by the door.
“Once drunk down, you can’t undo. All you’ll want to do is screw,” the zebra chuckled, a wry grin splitting her features.
“Right, last resort weapon, I got it,” Anon sternly noted. Pulling his cloak, a gift from Rarity, around himself, he slunk off into the night.
Fortunately, because he’d navigated his way into the Everfree, he was able to retrace his steps with relative ease. Weaving his way through the wood, sneaking on to the school grounds, his motions slowed. If he was discovered, it wouldn’t likely cause any major problems, though it may arouse suspicion. Stealing himself into the building, he covertly made his way to his room.
Closing the door to his apartment behind himself, Anon exhaled a shaky breath. Carefully extracting the small flask from his pocket, reverently setting it upon the coffee table, he flopped onto the couch. He’d actually managed to do it! Not only had he successfully executed a covert ops mission, but he’d gotten himself an ace in the hole.
Kicking off his pants, making himself comfortable, he lounged on the sofa. As badly as he needed a shower, he resigned himself to get one in the morning. After a full day’s work, sneaking through the forest had thoroughly drained what little energy he had left. An assured contentedness washed over him, as he closed his eyes and swiftly drifted off to sleep.
…
“Anon…”
The man stirred, yet his eyes remained closed. Turning in place, rolling away from the noise, he buried his face in the cushion. Something gently rested on his shoulder, jostling him softly and causing him to blindly swat it away.
“Anon.”
The voice, louder this time, finally kick-started Anon consciousness into gear. Inhaling sharply, opening his eyes, he wearily peeked over his shoulder. Standing beside him was Yona. As his brain struggled to comprehend the sight, doing its damnedest to figure out how she had gotten into his room, he turned to face her.
“Morning Yona,” he grumbled, languidly swinging his legs over the side of the couch.
Pushing himself into a seated position, he scanned the area. His front door and window were both intact, ruling out any sort of forced entry, which only caused the mystery to deepen. Still, considering the details around the last time he’d woken up to the yak, he couldn’t be too upset. Peering down at her beaming face, he stifled a yawn.
“Yona is sorry for borrowing the key from Gallus, but Yona wanted to start best date ever as best she could,” she began, pointing to an immaculately folded stack of clothing on the nearby chair. “If it’s alright, Anon should go take shower and change. Yona doesn’t want us to be late for trip to Yakyakistan,” she continued, presenting him with a freshly laundered towel.
“I…” Anon muttered, struggling to form words. Something was definitely off - he was sure about that. In all the time he’d known Yona, she’d never been so demure and ladylike. Breaking and entering aside, it was almost as if he was talking to a different yak entirely. “A...are you feeling well?”
“Yona feels fine - no, better than fine!” she exclaimed, her grin broadening.
Lowering herself, the muscles of her legs tensed, before she hopped in place. The act, while adorable, sent a minor tremor through his apartment and likely the nearby rooms as well. Landing, steadying herself for another joyous leap, she scrunched her snout and stopped dead.
“Yona sorry. Yona just excited for her big day,” she noted, catching herself. “I...if it ok with Anon, can we leave soon?” she stammered, blushing slightly.
Despite himself, Anon smiled down at her. By the shambling teats of Celestia, the little cow-girl was actually making a concerted effort to restrain herself. Normally, she was about as subtle as a lead brick, so her reserved actions and courteous behavior spoke volumes of how important she thought their date was.
Getting to his feet, taking the proffered towel from her outstretched hoof, he walked towards the bathroom. “I shouldn’t be too long,” he noted, scooping up the clothing she’d brought for him.
“Ok, Yona will be right back,” the yak stated, trotting towards the exit.
Stepping into the restroom, Anon pulled the door closed behind himself. He could scarcely believe how genteel Yona was acting! Sure, she was nice almost all the time, but she’d really stepped her game up! Shaking his head, chuckling to himself, he stepped into the shower.
Thankfully, since Yona had already brought him an outfit, it didn’t take him long to get ready. Quickly washing up, it took him a minute to get into the formal-wear she’d chosen for him. To his surprise, she’d procured a full suit for him, replete with a matching tie and cuff-links. If he had to guess, she had gotten Rarity to make it for him, so the gesture was supremely appreciated.
“So how do I look?” Anon asked, bursting out of the confines of his bathroom. Seated on his couch, the yak beckoned him over.
“Yakyakistan not as cold this time of year, but Yona didn’t want Anon to get chilly,” she explained, looking him over from head to toe. “Yona thought Anon might want something warm to drink before the trip,” she continued, nodding towards a steaming cup of coffee.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Anon sighed contentedly, as he walked over. Holy hell, she was the first one who’d been that considerate before bringing him on their date. Seating himself beside her, he took a healthy drought of the java.
“Once you finish, Twilight will send us to Yona’s homeland. Yona heard Anon doesn’t do well with teleportation, so Yona got you these,” the yak murmured, producing a pair of little blue tablets. “Mage Meadowbrook said they would help.”
“That’s...really sweet of you,” Anon remarked, genuinely moved by her forethought.
Taking the pills, he swallowed them down with another sip of his coffee. A beverage, something to help with the vertigo from magical transportation, not rushing him, an honest to goodness suit, Yona was really pulling out all the stops. Taking another drink of his beverage, he smiled over at her.
“Thank you for all this,” he warmly said, giving her a pat on the head. “Did you know french vanilla was my favorite coffee, or was it a lucky guess?”
Yona paused, as a confused expression passed over her face. “Yona just got coffee from the cafeteria. They didn’t have any creamer, so Yona used what you had,” she clarified, looking to the table.
Tracking her gaze, Anon froze. There, upon the polished surface, sat an all too familiar vial, but something was terribly wrong. The glass container sat completely empty, save for a lone drop or two. A cold sweat beaded his brow, as he realized what she’d done. She’d unintentionally dosed him with the entire bottle of potion, having assumed the milky liquid was some sort of creamer.
“I hope Anon doesn’t mind,” Yona added, hopping from the sofa. “Yona will buy you more, once we get back.”
“T...that’s fine,” the man stammered, shakily standing. He had no idea how long he had until the elixir’s properties took effect, or its exact potency, though he knew it likely wouldn’t be good at all.
Following his horned host, Anon’s stomach was in knots - not due to the potion itself, but because of the anxiety of having unwitting downed the entire bottle. Walking along, doing his best to stay calm, he took slow, measured breaths. If he was lucky, which he prayed he was, he’d be able to shrug off any of the mental consequences of the brew.
“Yona and Anon are ready for their trip,” Yona announced, approaching the headmare’s open office.
The sound of hooves trotting nearer preceded the appearance of the mulberry colored Princess. “Good morning! I trust you’re ready?” she inquired, looking to each of them in turn. The man and yak nodded, signalling her to ignite her magic. “You both know the deal, I’ll come to Yakyakistan tomorrow morning to bring you back. Best of luck!” she chirped, as a blinding flash emanated from her glowing horn.
A sudden pop, the rush of displaced air, and a blinding light hit Anon instantly, causing his knees to buckle. Rubbing his eyes, shielding them from the sun, he attempted to orient himself. The teleportation, as expected, had been successful, transporting Yona and himself to their destination intact. Noticing his companion nearly lose her balance, he quickly squatted down and steadied her.
“You alright?” he asked, a touch of concern in his voice.
“Yona will be fine, just a little dizzy,” she assured him, closing her eyes and attempting to shake away her lightheartedness.
It wasn’t until she’d mentioned it, that Anon realized he felt completely fine. Every other time he’d been teleported, without fail, he’d had to deal with a bout of vertigo, but not this time. The pills she’d gotten from Mage Meadowbrook must’ve done the trick, since he felt steady and clear headed. The thought made him stop and look over at her.
“You didn’t take any of the medication yourself?” he pressed.
“Yona only had enough for one dose. Didn’t want Anon to have a bad morning,” she explained, glancing up at him with a faint smile.
“As much as I appreciate that, you shouldn’t have,” Anon tutted, pulling her into a hug.
Returning his embrace, savoring it for a moment, Yona pulled away. “It no problem. Come on, village is just over hill,” she instructed, pointing towards a knoll.
“Alright, lead the way,” Anon counted, waiting for his guide to take the lead. As the Yak strolled ahead, Anon surveyed the landscape.
Unlike the scorched, arid land of the dragons - standing in stark contrast to the lush, verdant home of the changelings - and lacking the dichotomy of the island of Mount Aris, Yakyakistan was a frozen mountain range. Sure, there were a few trees, but almost everything was comprised of snow, ice, rock, or some combination of the three. Plodding along, pulling his top around himself, he squinted in Yona’s direction.
“So, is it always this cold?” Anon inquired, hoping to spark some conversation on their walk.
“This not bad. It is a warm fall morning,” she stated, coming to a halt. At the crest of the hill, she motioned for him to join her.
Anon winced, as a particularly powerful gust of air cut through his clothes. If the current conditions are what she considered “a warm fall morning”, he would hate to imagine what a frigid winter’s night would be. Stomping up alongside her, leaving a trail in the shallow snow, he looked out onto a valley. Arrayed in the vale, surrounded by a wall of timber, lie what he could only describe as a village.
Roughly a dozen yurts were arranged around one large, central structure. Smoke wafted from several of the temporary buildings, the only clear indicator that the settlement was active. As for inhabitants, there wasn’t a single creature to be seen. If he had to guess, everyone was probably taking refuge in the large tents.
Working their way down the hill, towards the town, the pair slogged through the snow. If Anon had known there’d be so much of the stuff, he would’ve chosen more appropriate footwear. Glancing upward, hearing a thunderous creak, he noticed a handful of large, shaggy creatures clearing the gate of the settlement.
No sooner had Yona seen them, then she took off at a full gallop. Thundering over to them, plowing a path for herself, she made a beeline for the largest, most ornately decorated yak in sight. More than double her size, the beast reared back and charged her. Struggling to match her pace, fearing that a confrontation was imminent, Anon did his best to keep up.
“Yona!” the titanic yak barked, surging forward to meet her.
“Prince Rutherford!” Yona rebuked, racing at him.
Watching the two crash into each other, Anon slowed, as he came to grips with what he was seeing. The pair of furry bovids didn’t fight, though the hug they gave one another could easily be mistaken for some sort of grappling combat. Holding each other, laughing heartily, the pair embraced for a moment, released each other, then violently slammed heads together.
“Anon! Anon!” Yona shouted, frantically ushering the man closer.
Breathing heavily, his breath steaming the air, Anon jogged the relatively short distance left to join his host. In spite of promising himself to get in shape, an oath he’d sworn on his date with Silverstream, he hadn’t done the first thing to start exercising. With his lungs burning, he came to a gradual halt.
“N...nice to meet you,” he wheezed, extending a hand to the regal yak.
Bedecked in gold finery, the Prince had an obsidian crown upon his head. A seemingly unkempt mane covered most of his face, contrary to his neatly brushed and affixed beard. Wreathing his head, sat a pair of absolutely titanic horns, each of which was easily as large as Anon’s arm. All told, Rutherford was one of the very few creatures who dwarfed him in sheer size.
“Yona said Anon strong,” Rutherford grunted, blowing steam from his nostrils. A gleaming emerald eye peeked through his messy hair, staring dead at the man’s face, as if appraising his worth.
“I guess I’m pretty strong,” Anon anxiously laughed, fanning his shirt. Maybe it was the tense moment, but he was starting to feel a bit warm.
“Hmmph,” the princely yak snorted, turning away. “Come, feast now,” he continued, moving back towards the now open settlement.
“Prince Rutherford not very talkative,” Yona explained, stepping to Anon’s side. “Don’t worry, Yona will take good care of you…”
Casting a questioning glance over to her, a chill ran up Anon’s spine. Something about her tone and Rutherford’s terse greeting didn’t settle well. He’d heard the yaks were exceptionally hard headed and belligerent, though he’d had perilously few dealings with them - besides Yona, that was. Beyond the ominous feeling settling over him, there was another, far more troubling issue.
As his guide trotted onward, following the ruler, Anon’s gaze wandered towards Yona’s furry backside. Acting of their own accord, his eyes drank in the details of her movements. Hairy though she was, the power and sculpted form of her muscles were plain to see. It was only when he felt his manhood twitch, that he forced himself to look away.
Silently cursing to himself, hoping his symptoms didn’t worsen, he caught up with his date. Moving through the gate, into the village, he distracted himself by asking Yona questions. Apparently, the little town was only temporary, though the yaks did have a much larger, permanent city deep within the mountains.
Living a highly nomadic life, colonies of yaks roamed the countryside. Settling in an area, sustaining themselves with the available supplies, they’d eventually move on to other, fresh resources. It was interesting, to be sure, yet Anon was finding it more and more difficult to concentrate.
Try as he might, Anon couldn’t keep his thoughts from wandering to his steamy encounter with Yona. The raw animalistic lust in her eyes, how she pinned him down and rutted herself on him, just how strong and warm she was. Before he knew it, he found himself walking around with half a stock. As if that wasn’t awkward enough, they soon approached the massive building in the middle of the settlement.
“Rutherford said something about a feast?” he asked, causing Yona to turn.
“Yaks don’t get visitors often, ponies or otherwise, so Yona suggested a banquet,” she responded.
“And the noise?” Anon inquired, as a strange, lyrical sound drifted to his ears. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound bad; almost like some sort of accordion.
“That,” Yona said, holding the flap of a door open, “is a yovidaphone. It traditional instrument of yaks.”
Stepping inside, Anon was greeted by a pleasant sight. Roughly a dozen yaks sat at tables, as one was perched upon a small stage. The yovidaphone, as Yona had called it, appeared similar to a bagpipe, albeit with several oversized brass pipes curled from one end. The congregation quietly hummed along, while the musician played, swaying back and forth to the melody.
Yona strolled over to Prince Rutherford, selected an empty stool, and sat herself opposite the ruler. Patting the seat next to herself, she waved for Anon to join her. The man silently complied, noiselessly walking to her and making himself comfortable. Content to let the show continue, they listened to the strangely captivating tune.
As the instrumentalist concluded, the room was filled with the noise of stomping hooves. Anon joined them, rhythmically stamping his feet on the packed earth below. He had to admit, while the score had been somewhat otherworldly, he was moved - that was, until Rutherford got to his hooves.
“Yaks welcome human Anon! He guest of Yona’s! Be nice!” the Prince barked, thrusting a cloven hoof in the man’s direction.
On cue, every head in the room turned to the lone biped. An eerie silence filled the air, broken only by the occasional mumble or whisper. Anon swallowed hard, having been put on the spot, though he smiled and waved at the throng. It was bad enough that he stuck out like a sore thumb, but Rutherford had taken the extra step to single him out.
A soft pressure on his thigh caused him to look down. Patting his leg, smiling up at him, Yona met his eyes. Her gesture, while small, was profoundly soothing and filled him with confidence. Clearing his throat, he stood. “Thanks for having me! I’m happy that-”
“Feast now!” Rutherford bellowed, as a procession of yaks bearing platters filed into the room.
Sitting back down, while the food was delivered, Anon sighed to himself. The meal looked exquisite, comprised of many different vegetable and fruit dishes, but that didn’t help the fact that he’d been interrupted. Feeling a hoof gently stroking his back, he looked over.
“It ok, Yona take Anon on a tour after breakfast,” the relatively diminutive yak said, shooting him a wink.
For the umpteenth time that morning, Yona had comforted him. Leaning over, wrapping his arms around her, Anon hugged her deeply. Closing his eyes, he pressed his face into her neck. Returning the gesture, she pulled him to herself. Clinging to her, breathing in her earthy, alluring scent, he scarcely noticed her forehoof creeping down his back.
“Thank you,” he whispered, bringing his face to her ear.
“Thank Yona later,” she responded, leaving them both to giggle.
Snickering, releasing one another, they returned to facing the table. Spooning a heap of berries onto his plate, Anon glanced over to Yona. Had she always smelled that good before? Trying and failing to keep her off his mind, he reached down, picked up a currant, and brought it to her face.
Noticing his approaching hand, Yona shuffled her stool closer. Closing her eyes and opening her mouth, she awaited the succulent treat. Once within reach, she wrapped her lips around his digits, swallowing the small fruit, she suckled his fingers. She’d been doing her best to restrain herself, refraining from making open advances on him, yet the opportunity proved too good to pass up.
A cold sweat beaded Anon’s brow, as the temperature of the room seemed to double. Unbuttoning his collar, savoring the sensation of her pouting lips around his digits, he was keenly aware of the growing erection within his pants. As if sensing his weakness, Yona rested a hoof on his thigh, lovingly caressing the tender area.
“Look at little love birds!” Rutherford interjected, guffawing and pointing at the couple. “Is just like when Yona’s parents met!”
“W...what?” Anon stammered, dragging his attention from the yak practically fellating his fingers.
“Yes, was very romantic! Yaks start kissing and touching each other. Next thing you know, yaks rutting on table! Memory brings a tear to yak’s eye,” the Prince explained, reminiscing on the seemingly bawdy scene.
Taken aback by the casual admission of public indecency, Anon bit his lip - not because of story, nor that such acts were apparently acceptable, but because Yona’s hoof had glided to his crotch. Fondling his package, squeezing his turgid length, she hummed beside him. Not to be outdone, his hand crawled down her back, allowing him to squeeze one fuzzy ham in his palm.
“Yona wouldn’t mind trying something like that,” she chuckled, freeing her maw and casting a teasing glance in the man’s direction.
“Neither would I,” Anon impulsively blurted, immediately blushing and covering his mouth. The spontaneous utterance, while rash, had an immediate effect. The pressure on his tool increased exponentially, so much so that the fabric of his pants audibly tore.
“Yona doesn’t think Anon is serious,” the yak added, stroking his semi-freed shaft.
“Oh, I don’t think you could handle it,” Anon rebuked, sinking his fingers into her rump. His resolve crumbled, rocked to the core, as his arousal spiked.
Something snapped within Yona, leaving her to push herself away from the table. She’d tried, sweet stars above she’d tried to be on her best behavior; but Anon’s comment, paired with his grip on her ass, forced her to act. Getting up, she swung one hind leg over the man’s lap and climbed atop him.
“Try Yona…” she purred, locking eyes with him.
The sensation of Yona’s hot, humid nethers, pressed against his barely contained manhood, proved too much to bear. Grabbing her horn, he angled her face upward. Needless to say, the conversation, amorous attention, and potion had taken a severe toll on him, so he was left with little choice but to oblige her request. Leaning in, he locked lips with his shaggy paramour.
Rocking her hips back, bringing her moistened loins into position, Yona’s tongue wormed into his mouth. As soon as she felt the head of his cock grace her entrance, she bore down. Impaling herself upon him, burying every glorious inch of his fat dick into her cunt, she gyrated upon him.
Wrapping his arms around her, pulling her to his chest, Anon bucked his hips upward. Even though she was easily the largest of all the students he’d bedded, he found her weight surprisingly manageable. Excited murmurs filled the room, though he was dimly aware of it. In the clutches of the elixir’s effects, he fought to sate his growing urges.
Clenching herself around his shaft, Yona reciprocated her lover’s movements. Granted, riding him in a seated position wasn’t exactly optimal for freedom of movement, yet she managed. Swaying her tush downward, meeting his thrusts, she retracted her head and gave him a peck on the cheek.
Yona’s sinful look, coupled with her steamy depths, filled Anon with a fiery determination. Holding her tightly, keeping his length entombed within her, he got to his feet. Despite trying to gently lower her to the table, what actually happened was much more chaotic. Slamming her onto the slab of wood, he sent food flying every-damn-where, though that was just the start; deftly kicking his stool aside, he stepped forward and continued his lewd onslaught.
Seizing the initiative, Yona wrapped her hind legs around his waist and drew him deeper. Grabbing his neck, wrenching his face towards herself, she leered up at him. “Yak smash,” she growled, punctuating her remark by forcefully pulling him into her depths.
“Yak SMASH!!!” Rutherford roared, unseating himself. On cue, the room began to chant in unison, adding fuel to the exhibitionistic fire.
Too preoccupied to care, lost to his lust, Anon plowed the yak beneath him. Pistoning his length into her, his nuts slapped against her hairy backside. Hot, wet, and surprisingly snug, she milked his shaft with every backstroke. Releasing her horn, he ran his fingers through her thick coat of fur. Every plunge caused the table to rock violently, sending yet more of the meal scattering to the floor.
“Harder!” Yona demanded, clamping her stuffed canal upon his manhood. While she hadn’t expected to get any action so quickly, she wasn’t going to complain.
The force of Anon’s thrusts redoubled, as he lost focus. The primal, animalistic portions of his brain leapt to the fore, forcing his body to comply. Draping himself over her, he gave her collar a small kiss, just before affectionately biting her. She was his, and he was going to make damn sure she, as well as every other yak in the village, knew it.
“Yes!” Yona brayed, squeezing him between her legs. Enthusiastically synchronizing her movements to his, leaving their groins to fiercely impact upon one another, she licked and gnawed his ear.
Though Anon was blissfully unaware of it, the scene was like something out of a fever dream. The chorus of Yak Smash, from the onlookers, was joined by the sounds of clattering flatware and the impacts of flesh on flesh. Like some sort of depraved ritual, the spectators egged the pair on, hungrily enjoying the show.
Rearing back, Anon steeled his resolve. Eager to please the pint-sized yak, and to slake the throng’s thirst, an idea began to coalesce. Standing straight, prying Yona’s legs apart, he shuffled backward. His length slipped from her sopping loins, fogging the chill air, as he grabbed her fetlocks.
Before Yona could ask why he’d suddenly stopped, she found herself savagely rolled to her stomach. Dragged to the table’s edge, in one smooth motion, the man rammed his length into her. Caught off guard, woefully unprepared for the change in tactics, she was hauled into the air.
Hefting his partner, in some lusty parody of a full nelson, Anon yanked Yona’s back hooves towards his shoulders. Slipping his hands under her hind legs, locking them behind her neck, he mercilessly fucked her. While the position was somewhat awkward, his enhanced strength made the monumental task a simple affair.
Fully immobilized, unable to escape, Yona’s mind went blank. She had no idea when or how Anon had gotten so strong, but she loved every bit of his rough treatment. Being manhandled, flipped around and rutted at his leisure, damn near caused her to faint. Panting, jostling under the impetus of his bucking hips, her body was at his disposal.
Needless to say, the crowd went absolutely wild. The pair’s new position, beyond being a wild shift of body placement, gave the assembly a picturesque view of the action. Open for all to see, Anon’s tool wetly slid in and out of Yona’s shaggy snatch. Her face, contorted with pleasure, could do nothing but look out and watch everyone’s reaction to her domination.
Grunting triumphantly, Anon railed out the modestly sized yak. Raising and lowering her body, in tune with this thrusts, he plowed her with reckless abandon. With the elixir’s boon in full effect, he was able to achieve the herculean task with relative ease - that was, until a hoof smashed against his jaw. Shaken from his reverie, the blow was followed up by a second, causing him to lose his grip.
Wriggling from his grasp, falling to the floor, Yona’s attack had worked perfectly. Being wildly bred was one thing, but she had her pride to consider. Yak mating was, by and large, a fairly violent ordeal, and it wasn’t uncommon for participants to leave battered and bruised. Wheeling around, sweeping Anon from his feet, she caught the man and threw him against a nearby wall.
Crashing against the wooden surface of the semi-permanent building’s interior, Anon shook his head. Shakily getting to his feet, he saw Yona rushing at him. His world was clouded by an overpowering need to conquer her, leaving him to stare defiantly at the charging yak. Leaping into the air, she tackled him against the wall, before executing a perfect about-face.
“Yak SMASH!!!” she howled, sheathing his manhood in her confines. Without pause, she started hammering herself back onto him, shamelessly and vehemently fucking herself on the man.
Pinned in place, blindsided by her salacious attack, Anon was at a loss for words. Grabbing her waist, attempting to match her pace, he banged her from behind. Filled with righteous indignation, he was hellbent to best her in carnal combat. Gritting his teeth, bracing himself against the wall, he viciously countered her assault with powerful thrusts of his own.
Wildly screwing one another, like a pair of rabid animals in heat, Anon and Yona pulled out all the stops. With the mob cheering them on, rooting for one side or another, each battled to assert dominance over the other. Faster and faster, harder and harder, their movements gradually grew increasingly frantic, until the two went rigid.
Growling, snarling in consternation, they soon reached their limit. Anon came first, painting the yak’s interior with a load of hot, thick baby batter. The additional heat and pressure tipped Yona over the edge, sending bolts of orgasmic pleasure through her frame. A cocktail of nectar and seed obscenely gushed from her entrance, pattering to the floor, as the singular moment forced them to slow.
Grinding to a halt, the duo fought to catch their breath. Gasping for air, streaked in sweat, their bodies visibly steamed the air. Yona was the first to move, pushing herself onto the man’s semi-rigid, cum-slick cock. Anon was quick to retaliate, ramming his hips forward. Driven by their desires, each spurned to defeat the other, their hedonistic struggle began anew.
Their battle didn’t end until many hours later, after many rounds of raucous screwing. The feasting hall was a complete disaster, looking more like a war-zone than a gathering area. Furniture had been upturned, food lie strewn about, and many areas were covered in jizz, female yak nectar, or some combination of the two. Of all those gathered, only a few remained.
Standing over the collapsed duo, Rutherford nodded in approval. Though they’d literally fucked themselves into a comatose state, both Anon and Yona had put up a valiant fight. The conflict, which had lasted into the evening, had ended at a standstill, with the participants collapsing from fatigue and, if he had to guess, a minor case of dehydration.
Instructing two of his fellow yak’s to ferry the couple to his personal yurt, he salvaged some snacks, as well as two pitchers of water, from the ruined banquet. Though he’d only met Anon earlier that day, the man had lived up to the tales he’d heard. Truly, should the human choose Yona as his mate, he would wholeheartedly give his approval…
