Aberrant Affections

“Here’s your order,” Haan merrily remarked, setting the tray of food and pitcher of beer on the table. “Just let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”

“You can sit on my lap,” a particularly gruff griffon chuckled, smiling up at the server.

“Maybe later, Hun,” Haan giggled. Shooting his customer a wink, he sashayed away.

Getting hit on at work had never bothered him, and it usually meant he’d more than likely be getting a hefty tip. He’d been working at Apple Bottoms bar and grill for a few months and, honestly, he loved it. Plenty of attention, decent pay, and he’d been given several of the official booty shorts and painfully tight crop-tops to keep. All in all, it was a damn nice job.

As he strutted towards the kitchen, his phone began to vibrate. Digging the mobile out of his pocket and glancing down to see who was calling, he sighed. “I’m at work, Copper, sup?” he asked, holding the device to his ear.

“Hey, Haan! Sorry, I didn’t know you were on the clock. I just wanted to say, if you want to come over later this evening, I’ll get us some pizza and beer,” Copper chipperly stated.

“Sure, that sounds fine. Once I’m done with my shift, I’ll shoot you a text,” Haan responded, before ending the call.

Being able to grab a bite with his friend would be a perfect way to wrap up his afternoon - once he was done with his shift, of course. Snatching up a pitcher in each hand, one filled with water and the other filled with tea, he turned back towards the dining area. As he took his first steps away from the server station, he froze and glanced behind himself; it almost felt like something had pressed against his backside.

With nothing behind himself, and his closest coworker almost a dozen feet away, his confusion mounted. Scrunching his snout, trying to dismiss the peculiar sensation, it happened a second time. Wincing, feeling as though a titanic dick was doing its damnedest to burrow into his ass, he turned to set the pitchers down. Just as he set the beverages down, he was penetrated by the preternatural force.

Having serviced all sizes and types of dick before, Haan was at a loss. Whatever the fuck was slowly grinding into him was massive, definitely as large or larger than anything he’d handled before, yet that wasn’t what had him most concerned. Reaching back and thrusting a hand into his shorts, his eyes widened. Though there was no visible sign of anything, his pucker was painfully stretched around something the size of his calf.

“Haan, you ok?” one of his fellow waiters called, drawing his attention.

“I...I’m fine, just give me a - Oh fuck,” he grunted, as it plunged deeper.

Sweeping his hand through the area around his rear was fruitless, giving him perilously few options to deal with the bizarre situation. It wasn’t like he was that bothered, considering it felt absolutely sublime, although he could have never anticipated something so strange happening out of the blue. Grabbing the counter, while the supernatural stallionhood withdrew from his depths, he had hoped the assault was coming to an end - he couldn’t have been more wrong.

Unlike when the ghostly dong had steadily filled him, the second thrust was much more vigorous and abrupt. Lurching forward, doing his damnedest to stay steady, he braced his legs. Before he knew it, he was being languidly plowed by the mystical force. Gnawing his lip, leaking pre-cum into his barely concealed banana hammock, the profoundly intense and blissful sensations of being rutted took hold.

Part of him was dimly aware that he must have been quite the odd spectacle, practically presenting himself and breathing heavily by the serving station, yet there was nothing he could do - well almost nothing. Going by feel alone, he rocked back and rhythmically clenched around his invisible partner. On the clock or not, he couldn’t bring himself to half-assedly service a dick.

Whatever secretive stallion was plowing him was doing so with a vehemence he’d rarely encountered. Hanging his head, watching his lower abdomen bulge out, he gulped. The periodic hammering of an unseen medial ring against his stuffed hole told him that he wasn’t nearly hilted yet. Steeling himself, holding onto the counter for all its worth, he rocked back to meet his furtive paramour.

Pulling back and pausing for a second, the hidden stallionhood violently drove into his tush. Even if he hadn’t wished to be fully impaled - which he secretly did - there would have been nothing he could do to stop the onslaught. Even as supremely well trained as his backdoor was, the intrusion left his pucker desperately struggling. Groaning, pleased that the worst of his ordeal was over, he was proven wrong for a second time.

The savagery of being fucked by something so large, completely out of left field, caused him to miss several rather important nuances - namely how hard the stallionhood was throbbing and how its fat crown was beginning to flare. The brief respite of the fucking allowed him to feel his torso, as he marveled at the swell resting just beneath his rib cage; it was only then that he realized how screwed he was.

Scalding seed erupted deep within him, as his insidious lover came. The pressure and heat were too much, instantaneously sending him over the edge. Moaning, blowing his comparably minuscule load into his shorts, the tectonic force of the climax hit him like a bomb. As he was flung into a sea of unbridled rapture, the patrons were given quite a spectacle.

Haan’s gut angrily gurgled, filling well beyond capacity with spunk. His belly sagged under the weight, his feminine mewling cut through the air, and his knees buckled under him. It was, without a doubt, one of the more extraordinary experiences he’d ever had - including that time he got drunk and fucked both teams at an intramural rugby match!

Wheezing, cum-drunk beyond reasoning, it was all he could do to stay standing and breath - that was, until he felt a tap on his shoulder. Lazily looking over with blurry and unfocused eyes, he stared at his manager. The mare looked somewhat displeased, scrunching her snout and looking away, although she appeared to be blushing heavily.

“Haan, I think that’s enough for tonight. I don’t know what that was, but you need to go home and get cleaned up,” she muttered, handing him a dish towel.

“But I…” he began, only then realizing how deathly silent the room was.

Scanning the bar, seeing that everyone was staring at him, he blinked and peered down his chest. Jizz crept down one of his legs, pooling in his shoe and making a mess on the floor. As if that wasn’t embarrassing enough, it felt like he had a fire hydrant sized plug lodged in his ass.

Snatching up the towel and sighing to himself, he awkwardly shambled towards the exit. Fuck it - he’d already made a decent amount of tip money and he figured he’d earned himself a drink. He wasn’t that put off by the scene he’d inadvertently caused, hoping that it may have more patrons asking for him specifically - regardless, he’d been given an order and he was happy enough to oblige. Ambling towards his car, wondering when the sensation of having a gigantic dong in his rump would dissipate, he headed to Copper’s house; he’d have one hell of a story to tell his friend over the beer and pizza.