Daring Do and the Griffin's Seed

Daring Do came to wakefulness in the early morning light. Judging by the stiffness of her joints she must have been bound by her hooves for at least a week. She'd never been held captive so long. She tried to stretch and found her right hind-hoof still sore and her joints aching. She didn't dare touch between her legs. What was down there looked swollen and bloody from the intrusion of Ricardo's spiny feline member. She sat up on the edge of the bed and tried her sore hoof. It held her weight but she found herself falling back onto the bed just from stiffness.

Looking around, the bedchamber was large and semicircular. There was no art on the walls or any other decoration. The only furniture was the bed and a bedside table. The book shelves were built into the wall and made of solid stone. She pushed the table. It was made of stone mortared to the floor. The bed was a flat slab of stone with a thick cushy pad on top whatever it was made of felt crumbly. She had a thought and tried the hem of the silken sheets. The fine white cloth shredded when she tried its strength. There was no way to make a rope out of it.

The glassless windows were open to the sea breeze but blocked by decorative iron tracery that did not look like prison bars but served that function. The stone floor looked seamless. There was absolutely nothing in the room she could see that would serve as a means of escape. The pegasus flapped her wings experimentally. They were unharmed but even stiffer than her legs. She found her wings getting stiff in the other way quite involuntarily. She actually blushed. It was a strange reaction after the degradation she'd been through.

The mare found the room had two doors. One was made of thick wood bound in iron with a blocked slot at the bottom and no handles or visible locks. A perfect prison door, she thought. The other was partly open. She stumbled through and found a little mares room with a flush pit toilet in the floor and a washbasin with running water built into the wall. There was a mane brush and toothbrush but both were flimsy things that were sure to fall apart if she tried digging at the stone walls with them. She searched beneath the basin and couldn't find any loose objects at all. There were towels but they felt as flimsy as the bedsheets. She squatted over the toilet and let loose. Her urine stream brought a horrible burning sensation and she was thankful when it was over. She could see blood mixing with her thick urine in the basin.

She rose to her hooves a bit unsteadily and made her way to the spiral staircase. It was the same smooth stone as everything else with hardly a visible seam in it. She stomped up it and found herself in a round tower room surrounded by open windows on all sides. To the south lay a beautiful blue sea. Celestia's sun was just rising from its depths. On the north lay a rugged mountainside almost devoid of vegetation. There wasn't a town or road on any landmark she recognized anywhere in sight. The tower had no view of the shoreline below. She did hear the sound of a waterfall in the distance. The sound reminded her reassuringly of Cloudsdale.

This was not a good place to escape to even if I can get out of here, she thought to herself. She put her hooves against the iron tracery blocking the windows. She pressed with her fore-hooves, then turned and bucked it with her left hind-hoof. It didn't budge or crack. She'd have to try again when she had her strength back. As she sat gazing at the rising sun there was a scraping sound in the room below.

She looked down the stairway and found a tray full of breakfast lay on the floor just in front of the door. She just barely saw the slot close behind it. Steam rose from a stack of pancakes. The grinding emptiness in her belly reminded her she'd hardly eaten in the last few days. She refused most of what the maids had offered her except in the worst desperation. The very idea of eating had made her nauseous. Now hunger gnawed at her insides.

She stumbled down the steps and fell upon the pancakes like a feral horse. Wooden utensils lay on the tray but she ignored them. She gobbled down everything as quickly as possible. She even ate the daisies set on the tray as a garnish. Despite the impulse to vomit everything up immediately she managed to keep it down. It sat heavily in her stomach. She sat back on her haunches and patted her surprisingly slim belly with her hoof. She recoiled at the idea of what else might be inside her.

In the next few days she became more used to her accommodations and started regular workouts. She did hoof-ups and burpees and wing-ups and reverse-wing-ups until both her wings and legs were back in shape. Within a week she felt in better shape than she'd been in before her captivity. The regular meals were large and delicious but served on flimsy trays with tableware made of balsa wood. It would do her no good at attacking the stone surrounding her and the iron keeping her from the wide open sky.

Meals were passed in under the door and once a week she was given fresh towels and sheets for the bed.

Her painful marehood slowly healed without any visible damage. Her hocks and ankles still bore marks where she'd been bound but they began to fade.

She kept track of the days by lining up the fragile wooden breakfast forks on the bedside table and then on one of the book shelves. After a week she tried clopping for the first time thinking of Charger, the last stallion she'd taken to her bed before being taken captive. He was such a gentlecolt and had such a huge flare he'd made her deliciously sore several times in the one night they'd spent together. She also remembered what had happened with her silphium seeds. She must have left the vial at the hotel along with her toothbrush and pack of condoms. A mare must always be prepared and she had found herself sadly unprepared to face Ricardo.

Now that the soreness from her repeated violation had passed she was surprisingly horny. At times she could hardly keep her wings down and her hoof away from her crotch. She found a surprisingly good selection of erotic novels aimed at mares among the books. From time to time she felt as if she were being watched. There was a mysterious slit high up above the door she couldn't quite get her hooves into. A hidden observer could be behind it. Whoever might have been watching got a good show every day. She tried poking forks into it but never hit anything on the other side.

The problem, she thought, was she'd heard pregnant mares can get relentlessly horny the way she was. She folded her bonered wings and ran up the stairs to the upper floor of the tower. The mare braced herself against the imprisoning ironwork and ran her wings up to maximum power. She was sure she was back to the twelve wing-power she'd managed at school. Her furious wingbeats created an indoor hurricane, whipping through the empty room. No matter how hard she pushed against the stone it did not give. It seemed there was no release. She sat on her haunches in despair.

Weeks dragged by and then more than a month. Despite working out regularly Daring found her belly beginning to grow. The rest of her was now lean and strong. She had nothing to do but work out and read and watch the horizon outside. At times she saw ships out at sea and once the lights of an air yacht glittering in the distance. Nothing came close to this barren coastline and the jagged rocks out from the coast.

Week by week the bulge in her belly grew. After what she figured was ninety-two days she felt the first kick. What should have been a wonderful experience drove her deeper into despair. The hybrid creature he had planted in her belly was growing inside her. She couldn't deny it now. Her udders swelled and her nipples became tender.

As her belly grew time went by outside. The climate became unbearably warm for several months then turned milder and even slightly cold for about a month. Surely it was a warm southern climate with a cool dry winter. She wasn't sure where in Equestria she was but it was far from civilization. Rarely did she even see a ship's mast out at sea.

She remembered her lessons about foaling from school. If it were a normal foal she should carry it for about three-hundred and forty days. She reminded herself that this was no normal foal. By the time three-hundred days had passed according to her fork count she felt as if she would explode. Her belly was incredibly huge and swollen beyond the size she'd expected. She couldn't see her udders anymore. Despite that she kept up her flight exercises. She could hover in the high ceiling of the upper floor all afternoon without breaking a sweat. Now she couldn't reach her marehood to clop but had lost her previous interest in it.

By three-hundred and twenty days she was sure the foal was ready to come. She could tell by feel that her nipples were still pointed together so she wasn't ready to pop but it was getting close. In another week that changed. One morning her udders were even bigger and the nipples pointed apart. That was the last outward sign the foal was coming before the contractions started and her water broke. She became terrified of what might be ready to emerge from her. She had terrible nightmares about what the freakish foal might look like. Sometimes it was a giant griffin clawing its way out of her belly.

She knew one night it would inevitably be ready to emerge. As the days crept by she felt more and more of a sense of panic. She had the constant urge to run, to fly, to get as far away as she possibly could. The feeling was overpowering. That, she knew, was another sign of the impending birth. She would have the urge to give birth away from the herd in the darkness of night. As her time approached the gibbous moon grew toward its fullness and so did her udders and her belly.

The urge to fly drove her crazy. She pressed against the iron grill and beat her wings for hours on end. There was no escape. As darkness fell once again she stumbled down the stairs in tears and collapsed against the door that barred her way. To her great shock it swung open on silent hinges. She found herself lying on her side in the stairwell outside. She lay there staring at the light of Luna's full moon beaming in through a wide open window. Her hooves clattered on the floor and wall as she struggled to right herself and dive toward freedom.