Chapters Even at this early hour of the morning, the Great Bazaar of Cluckstantinople was abuzz with life, brimming with sights, sounds, and smells…
Wait.
Trenderhoof levitated his notebook out to jot that line down. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
Anyway.
The most interesting sight wasn’t the brilliantly colored carpets, the magnificent plumage of the shoppers, or the morning sunlight filtering through that stone arches above. It was the large white unicorn in a keffiyeh he kept catching sight of. Could Blueblood really be slumming it in a place like this? Unlikely, but that compass rose cutie mark was unmistakable. Trenderhoof narrowed his eyes, and sipped his tiny cup of coffee. It couldn’t be him. It simply couldn’t be.
As a close friend of Rarity’s, Trenderhoof’s feelings about Blueblood were far from unalloyed. He had direct eyewitness testimony that the prince was every bit as much of a flare-end as people said he was. But Blueblood was also one of the handsomest stallions in the world. And Trenderhoof did mean the entire world, he’d been all over it and done detailed research. There were few bodies so muscular, few coats so well kept, few cocks so… well, he’d never gotten a good, closeup look at Blueblood’s cock, and Rarity was too proper to go into details like that, but he’d heard stories from other sources that it a sight to behold.
Anyway, meeting an Equestrian prince in a Turkish Bazaar? That was something to write about. And he did have a word count to make and a deadline to meet.
Trenderhoof finished off the drinkable part of his coffee, handed the cup of sludge back to the vendor, and slipped into the crowd of giant birds. The Turkish were tall, most of their heads over his, and he could only see glimpses of a white coat through all the tail fans and long, fleshy necks.
Bloodblood — if it was Blueblood — stopped for a long time at a carpet stall, but by the time Trenderhoof had wriggled and shoved his way over there, he was gone.
“Excuse me,” he said to the vendor. “That unicorn you were just talking to. Did you see which way he went?”
“He offered me thirteen lira for this carpet,” said the vendor, slapping a breathtakingly detailed red and gold carpet, his snood and wattled aquiver with rage. “Thirteen! What does he think I am, a charity?”
Definitely Blueblood.
“But did you see which way he went?” said Trenderhoof.
“He said he was going to Gobblebriel’s Café, and that if you came by you should either stop stalking him or come talk to him. Your choice.” The turkey narrowed his eyes. “Why are you so interested in him, anyway?”
“No reason,” said Trenderhoof anxiously, and vanished into the crowd. Homosexuality was not as widely accepted in Turkey as it was in Equestria.
The café was up several flights of stairs, on a balcony that overlooked a good portion of the bazaar. Blueblood was sitting at the table with two still-steaming cups of Turkish coffee. He raised an eyebrow as Trenderhoof came up the stairs. He gave him a coy smile and flicked his mane out of his eyes. Trenderhoof’s heart stopped beating. Blueblood was every bit as handsome as they said. Drawn as if by a magnet, Trenderhoof walked over, pulled out a stool, and sat. He looked up at the larger stallion’s big, light blue eyes, hypnotized.
“You’re following me. Why?” said Blueblood.
“I’m… I’m Trenderhoof.” Trender felt that this should be self explanatory, but Blueblood just gave him a blank look.
“Who?”
“The travel writer?”
Blueblood wrinkled up his nose. “Never heard of you. I never read anything by a writer who is still alive. Reading inferior books is a waste of my time, and the passage of years to weed out the trash, I find. I do not like having my time wasted.”
“It’s just… I…” He found himself dumbstruck by the prince’s presence. And by his rudeness. Words were Trenderhoof’s forte, to be certain, but words on paper . Words on paper could be controlled and refined. One had a certain leisure in picking them. Words out loud were a struggle sometimes. “I was curious. What you were doing here?”
“I’m doing Auntie Tia’s dirty work, and if I learn you have written about seeing or meeting me in any capacity, then I may have occasion to read your work.” Blueblood took a sip of his coffee.
Trenderhoof gulped. “Did you just threaten to kill me?”
“Yes,” said Blueblood.
Trenderhoof felt his cock begin to stiffen. He did not understand why. He scooted forward, pressing his belly against the table to hide his arousal from the prince.
“You’re still here,” said Blueblood.
“I am,” said Trenderhoof. Terror and lust warred in him, but both made it impossible for him to move. Golly Blueblood was big. His chest and foreleg muscles rippled with power, even in the simple act of raising a coffee cup. In all the stories about what a sissy he was, the reality of how big and strong he was somehow got lost.
Blueblood narrowed his eyes. “Wait. I’ve seen you. You’re one of that gold-digging whore Rarity’s friends, aren’t you?”
A new emotion rose in Trenderhoof’s chest. Rage. Rarity, the clever, the gentle, the brave. Rarity the beautiful, generous with the gifts of her bed. Rarity, who had introduced him to her . Rarity, a rare, true friend in a world full of traitorous vipers. Without thinking, Trenderhoof’s hoof shot out, and he slapped Blueblood across the face. “Don’t talk about her that way!”
The Blueblood of popular rumor would have squealed at the blow, and at the small trickle of blood flowing from his left nostril. Maybe cried. But popular rumor was, in this case, wrong. Blueblood levitated up a napkin, wiped his nose, looked at the blood, and then grabbed Trenderhoof’s neck in a collar of magic and jerked him across the table, upsetting both cups of coffee. Trenderhoof plucked at the collar with his own magic, but Blueblood, Celestia’s closest living blood relative and fifth in line for her throne — or was it sixth now? — was much more powerful than him.
“What,” he snarled, “do you think gives you the right to muss my royal fur with your filthy’s commoner’s hooves?”
“Can’t… can’t breathe…” gasped Trenderhoof.
Blueblood’s nostrils flared. “Well. It smells like you don’t only like cunts.” He glanced down at Trender’s long, thin, no longer hidden cock. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“A little,” admitted Trenderhoof, forehooves tugging at the magical force around his neck.
Blue blood tore away Trenderhoof’s sweater with his magic, leaving his lean, rangy body bare. He felt the other customers’ eyes on his nakedness, and twisted against his magical bonds.
“You don’t look half bad.” He dropped Trenderhoof to the tabletop with a thump. “Truth be told, poultry isn’t to my taste. Tia tells me that my subjects are not my toys, and that I have to ask permission, first. I find this demeaning to my royal person. So. If you don’t run away right now, I will interpret that as consent. Do you understand?”
Trenderhoof lay on the table, gasping. He made no move to leave.
Blueblood grinned. “Good. Get under the table and suck my cock.”
“Sodomy…” gasped Trenderhoof, “Sodomy’s illegal, here.”
“I don’t care,” said Blueblood, lifting the napkin back to his bloody nose. “I have diplomatic immunity. I could murder you right here and walk away. Which I’m considering. So do a good job down there.”
Trenderhoof slid off the table and looked around. They were alone. The staff and the customers had fled. Likely getting the guards. He looked back at the stairs up and the open doors of the cafe. Blueblood slammed them, closed and sealed them with his magic. Trenderhoof decided it was best if he crawled under the table and had a look.
Blueblood’s hind legs were spread. His cock was out of its sheath, but not erect, a pink and white hose thicker than Trender’s foreleg, resting over his immense pink balls and dangling over the edge of the stool. It hung nearly to the floor. Oh holy Zacherle, this was going to be a challenge.
Trenderhoof crawled across the dirty floor, through spilled coffee, and lifted the massive member in his hooves. It was smooth as silk, clean, and slightly glossy. He inhaled its scent — a mix of musky stallion sweat, lavender soap, and Blueblood’s sharp-smelling cologne. Trenderhoof hazarded lick, running his tongue along the top of it behind the flare, and the cock pulsed to life in his hooves, hardening and thickening.
“Don’t tease me, you little commoner slut,” hissed Blueblood. “You need to finish before the guards get here, or I’m throwing you to them.”
Trenderhoof’s heart rate spiked. He tried to wrap his lips around Blueblood’s flare. He opened his jaw wide as he could, and twisted and wriggled his head until the flare popped through his lips. The shaft was a little more manageable, but it was at the absolute limit of what he could handle. It stretched his lips into a thin O shape around the shaft. He bobbed his head forward — luckily he didn’t have much of a gag response, and was able to suppress what he did have, because the flare hit the top of his throat right away. He wrapped his hooves around the shaft, stroking it, and began to bob his head, suckling on the seven inches or so that he could fit.
“Oh, mother of whores, you have a sweet little mouth,” said Blueblood, powerful thighs trembling with pleasure. “Deeper, commoner slut. More.”
Trenderhoof did his best. His jaw was already pulled as wide as it would go by the sheer girth of Blueblood’s cock, so it wasn’t a tough trick to open his throat. The cock bumped against the top of his throat again and again, but try as he might he couldn’t get it in. Oh no. Blueblood might not be able to finish like this. Trenderhoof began to panic just the tiniest bit.
“I said deeper, you ignorant whore,” growled Blueblood, and grabbed Trender’s neck with his magic again. He tugged forward, and Blueblood’s cock popped painfully into Trender’s throat. Past the initial tightness, progress was easy, and inch after inch of perfect royal dick vanished into Trenderhoof’s mouth until he was drooling and gurgling against Blueblood’s massive balls.
Trenderhoof didn’t mind being roughly used. This was probably the biggest cock he’d ever encountered — he felt like it had been stuffed all the way down his throat and deep into his chest! But he’d sucked many cocks, and he knew his way around them. The treatment hurt, but not too badly. He’d be fine. The problem was that he couldn’t breath! He kept trying to inhale through his nostrils and it kept not working. He pawed at Blueblood’s thighs with his hooves, panicked, placating.
Blueblood didn’t care. He yanked on Trenderhoof’s mane with his magic, tugging him back, and then slammed him forward again, mashing his nose against curly white pubic fluff. He jerked him back and forth, rough and quick, using Trenderhoof’s face as a sex toy. That shaft surged into him, plowing his raw throat mercilessly. He was starting to feel dizzy.
“Yes!” said Blueblood, slapping the table, “Yes! Oh, you have such a tight little face-cunt, commoner! Oh, you almost deserve to be bathed in royal spunk!”
Trenderhoof’s lungs burned from lack of air. The world around him was starting to get dim. Blueblood was banging the table very loudly. Then Trender realized that that banging was coming from the door. The guards were here!
“Our audience has arrived, commoner slut,” hissed Blueblood. Trenderhoof could feel the other stallion’s body tensing, trembling. “Oh. Oh yes. Almost there…”
Trenderhoof’s eyes rolled up into his head as Blueblood shook him back and forth like a violently. His mother had always warned him it would end like this if he didn’t change his ways. Then suddenly Blueblood bellowed, and yanked him off his cock. Trenderhoof gasped, pulling in a sweet, wonderful lungful of air, only to be hit in the face with a flood of musky, salty cum. It filled his open mouth, matted his snout fur, and plastered his glasses, blinding him.
“Oh. That hit the spot. Thank you, commoner slut,” purred Blueblood, dragging Trenderhoof out from under the table, and lifting him up into the air by the scruff of his neck. “Let’s let the guards have a good look at you, before we go.”
Trenderhoof’s glasses slipped askew, allowing him to watch as Blueblood’s magic left the doors, and they slammed open. A half dozen angry armed turkeys, three of them holding a battering ram, tumbled into the café, looking shocked. Their eyes widened when they saw Trender hanging in midair, naked, face plastered white, next to a smirking Blueblood. Then were was a flash of magical light, and the two of them were in a cheap hotel room.
“I hope you didn’t swallow, yet,” said Blueblood, setting Trenderhoof down on all fours, removing his keffiyeh and climbing up to recline on the bed with his head and long golden mane hanging over the edge.
“Mgh-ngh,” said Trenderhoof.
“Share it with me, then. I savor the taste of my own spunk.”
Trenderhoof nodded, and walked over to Blueblood on shaking legs. He leaned over the prince’s face, and opened his mouth, drooling his mouthful of cum into his open mouth. Blueblood wasn’t lying about loving his own flavor. When Trender’s mouth was empty, Blueblood swished the load around with his tongue, closed his mouth, swallowed, and sighed happily. “Delightful. Your glasses, please?”
Trenderhoof levitated his cum-caked glasses off and held them out to the prince, who lapped them clean and popped them back on Trender’s snout. Blueblood’s tongue had smeared them terribly, but he could sort of see, now.
Blueblood clapped his hooves. “Excellent. Please allow the rest of the cum to dry in your fur, so that you look like a proper commoner slut. Now. Mount my face.”
“What?” coughed Trenderhoof, his voice raspy from being throat fucked.
“You’re ragingly hard, and drooling like a leaky faucet, which means you enjoyed what I just did to you.” Blueblood giggled. “You took brutal abuse like a good little soldier, and I, in my royal largess, wish to reward you. I can take it, as well as dish it out. Come on! Mount up.”
“The guards,” said Trenderhoof, trembling with fear. “You might be safe from them, but they’re going to arrest me the second we’re apart.”
“Oh, like they’ll recognize you like that. Just wash up before you go out and you’ll be fine. I even saved what’s left of your filthy commoner rags.”
Trenderhoof glanced over his torn sweater and hi satchel, laid out on the vanity. He was glad Blueblood had saved it; his notebook was in the breast pocket, along with his passport.
“Ahhhhh,” said Blueblood, opening his mouth wide.
Trenderhoof gulped, his hips shaking with desire as that handsome face opened up for him. He stepped up, front half on the bed, back half off. He closed his eyes in pleasure as Blueblood’s lips closed around his flare. Trenderhoof’s cock was much smaller and slimmer than the prince’s, and he had no trouble sucking it. The prince’s tongue danced around the edge of the flare, sending fiery tingles up the shaft. Trenderhoof began to buck his hips, and Blueblood’s hooves rose to his slight little ass, pushing on it, Encouraging him to thrust harder.
He looked down under his body. He could see his cock vanishing into Blueblood’s face, balls swaying as he thrust. Oh, Faust, there was the bulge of his flare, pushing down into Blueblood’s throat. If Trenderhoof’s modest cock could do that what must Blueblood’s have looked like inside his own?
Trenderhoof felt something slimy bump his forehead. He looked up, and saw Blueblood’s dick bobbing in front of his face, still wet with Trender’s spit and sticky with cum, but hard again. He groaned, held it still with his magic, and started to lick it. It tasted like Blueblood’s jizz, and Trenderhoof loved it. He thrust and thrust until his balls were bumping Blueblood’s nose. The prince’s flare was in his muzzle again, filling his whole mouth. His shaft sang with pleasure as the royal throat swallowed around it, milking it and squeezing it.
Trenderhoof’s balls began to tighten, and fire began to build deep in his groin. A burning wave of pleasure rolled through him, and he jammed himself into Blueblood’s face, his cock pulsing as he came, shooting squirt after squirt into the handsome prince’s belly.
“Cuuuummmm,’ purred Blueblood, as Trenderhoof’s limp cock slid out of his mouth with a soft pop.
“Delicious, delicious cum,” agreed Trenderhoof.
“Mmmm, I’m definitely glad I didn’t murder you. Do you like it up the ass, filthy commoner?”
Trender looked at the fat, drooling shaft bobbing in front of his nose. “Please tell me you’re going to use lube.”
Author's Note
Next time: More adventures in Turkey! Trender takes it up the ass! Trender gets in trouble! Blueblood is psychotic! Probably lots more sex!
If you liked it, plz fav and upvote! Have a nice day!
Turkey Through the Backdoor
They took their time preparing Trenderhoof’s ponut. “I wouldn’t want to break my new toy right away, after all,” said Blueblood.
“Right away?” said Trenderhoof.
“We never know what the future holds, do we?” said Blueblood, pressing a modestly sized butt-plug, soaked with lube, against Trenderhoof’s rosebud. Trenderhoof bore down, and the little bulb slid inside of him with ease.
“Oh, you're an experienced commoner slut, I see,” said Blueblood. He pushed the butt plug in and out with his magic, rolling it out past the cusp and then sliding it in, teasing Trenderhoof’s asshole. He wriggled in behind the smaller, brown stallion, and began to lick the cheeks of his ass and the backs of his thighs. He lifted one ball with his tongue, weighing it, then sucked it into his mouth, rolling it against his tongue.
“Ohhh… sullying your perfect royal lips with a filthy commoner ball, there, your highness?” groaned Tenderhoof, arching his back with pleasure.
Blueblood let the ball slide out of his mouth, dripping wet, a string of spit linking it to his lips. “Tell anyone, and I will have your horn sawn off.”
Trenderhoof decided to keep his mouth shut for a little while and see how that worked out.
The prince was clearly an aficionado of commoner balls — He worshiped Trenderhoof’s for almost half an hour, licking and sucking them until they were soaked with spit. They played with the butt plug while he did that, until they both grew bored with it and switched to a realistic dildo with a wide flat base. Blueblood popped the flare in past Trender’s opening, and then pushed it slowly in up to the medial ring. He pulled and pushed for a while, until Trender started to beg for the rest. Then he pushed the rest of it in all at once with his magic.
“Ouch,” whimpered Trender.
“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” grumbled Blueblood. "You asked for it." The prince stood up, and walked around to where Trenderhoof’s muzzle was buried in the sheets. Trender’s eyes tracked him as he walked around, following his massively tumescent and fully flared member nervously. His throat was still raw from earlier; he didn’t know if he could take another round of face fucking.
“You will find the royal balls need attention,” said Blueblood. Well. That was easy enough. Trenderhoof nuzzled Blueblood under the base of his shaft, and ran his tongue over the curves of those big, fat, tight, sweaty balls. Trender’s whole body shivered — these were truly a magnificent pair of eggs, perfectly ovals and covered in soft white fuzz. Blueblood groaned with pleasure, and rammed the dildo into Trenderhoof’s ass, mashing the base up under his tail. Trenderhoof felt Blueblood’s massive shaft resting on top of his head and the back of his neck, thick, pulsing, drooling pre onto his withers and back. As much fun as he was having licking his balls, he needed that inside him more.
“Fuck me,” begged Trenderhoof.
“Impertinent,” groused Blueblood. “I did not ask you to beg.” He dragged the dildo out of Trenderhoof’s ass, medial ring and flare straining at his ponut. Trenderhoof felt himself begin to wink closed, but before his body could finish Blueblood pranced around in a circle and thrust the flare of his cock up under his tail.
“Oh Zacherle… sweet fucking Zacherle!” hissed Trender, as a single thrust of Blueblood’s powerful hips drove that flare inside of him. His lube-up ponut was technically ready for the royal cock, but really nothing could prepare him for something that thick. His asshole ached as Blueblood thrust into him, jamming deeper into his guts with every thrust.
“Too big…” hissed Trenderhoof. “You’re too big. Oh Faust don’t stop!”
“You are far too talkative, filthy commoner,” said Blueblood. Trenderhoof gulped as the dildo, dripping with lube and not smelling all that great, levitated in front of him and turned it’s flare towards his face. He opened his mouth to beg the prince to stop, but Blueblood heard the intake of breath and pushed to dildo into Trenderhoof’s open mouth. Trender gagged in disgust, and cringed, but there was nothing he could do to keep it from happening. His hoofs scrabbled on the bedsheets, but the massive cock up his ass held him in place. He tugged at the Dildo’s base with his telekinesis, but Blueblood’s magic was too strong.
“Oh yes. You cunt. You whore. You nasty little slut. This is how we treat ignorant slatterns who strike their betters. Never forget that.”
With a few more thrusts, Blueblood’s balls were slapping Trenderhoof’s own, every thrust knocking him forward into the dildo in his throat. He gagged and gurgled around the toy. Blueblood ground the base against his nose, driving both his cock and the dildo in as far as they would go.
This experience was at the absolute limit of what Trenderhoof could handle, in terms of roughness, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t loving it. His cock pulsed so hard it ached, the flare dragging back and forth across the bed as Blueblood rutted him, leaving a trail of pre behind. Deep in his ass, Blueblood’s medial ring was at the perfect depth, plucking at that one, wonderful spot in Trender’s guts. The pain and the verbal abuse ticked something primal inside of him, something that longed to be used and degraded. Maybe Blueblood was right. Maybe he was a nasty little commoner slut. It had a certain ring to it.
“Oh… you’re so tight. You feel so good around me. You’re a good little cum rag. Tell me how much you love it.”
Trenderhoof could only gag and gurgle around the dildo.
Blueblood snorted, and pulled it almost all of the way out. The rubber flare was still blocking his lips, but his tongue could move. “Again,” hissed Blueblood.
Trenderhoof gurgled incoherently.
“Oh yes. Yes! Tell me you want it. Tell me you long for my cum!”
Trenderhoof groaned. I can’t beg for anything, you royal idiot , he thought. Anyway, he didn’t want Blueblood’s cum just yet; that medial ring was plucking at the special spot, making him burn, making his limbs shake. The fire built in him, sweetened by the pain and humiliation, growing into an inferno, and then he was screaming into the dildo in his mouth, his balls clenching, and he came, cum spraying out across the sheets, splashing his chest, pooling up on the bed.
Blueblood gasped as Trenderhoof’s ass clenched down around him, and threw himself forward, driving Trender down onto the bed, mushing his own cum into the brown fur of his barrel. Blueblood hit his ass with several dozen short, hard thrusts, and then the larger stallion started shaking. He bit Trender on the ear, hard enough that it bled, and ground hims down into the mattress. He held him there, gasping, until Trenderhoof almost smothered, darkness closing in around his eyes as he struggled to get his snout out of the cum-soaked sheets so he could breathe. Then Blueblood flopped to the side, gasping, and Trender could breathe again. At least, he could breathe through his nose.
The room stank of stallion sweat and cum. Trenderhoof’s whole body ached from rough handling. He grabbed the dildo in his mouth by the base and pulled it out. It just kept coming and coming, and when the thing finally popped out of his throat, it was soaked in slimy drool. “Was… was it good for you, your highness?” rasped Trenderhoof.
“Ngh mngh ngh,” mumbled Blueblood, and fell asleep.
Trenderhoof chuckled, and rolled over to spoon with the big, sleeping stallion. His eyes fluttered closed. The thought crossed his mind that the naps after might be the best part of gay sex. Then he fell asleep with Blueblood’s cock still half up his ass.
Fifty Ways to Leave Your Psychopath
Trenderhoof blinked himself awake. It was dark outside, and every single part of his body hurt — especially his throat and his ass. His face was covered in dried gunk, he was in somepony else’s hotel room, it stank in here, and there was something large, hot, and breathing pressed against his back. His sleep-blurred mind juggled these facts, trying to make sense of them. It wasn’t a very difficult puzzle, and the memory of the day’s events came slamming back to him.
He’d fucked Prince Blueblood.
He’d fucked Prince Blueblood.
He’d fucked Prince Blueblood .
Well, technically he’s been brutally and only semi-consensually been fucked by Prince Blueblood. Details.
Maybe it had been a dream. I mean, obviously he’d fucked somepony, but maybe he’d had a turgid sexual encounter with some random Equestrian expat and he’d just dreamed about fucking Blueblood afterwards. Cautiously, he lifted his head and craned his neck. The other pony had rolled so he was back to back with him, but Trenderhoof could clearly make out a blond tail and a lean, muscular flank with a compass rose cutie mark.
“Oh, bugger me with a pikestaff,” he whispered. Which, coincidentally, is exactly what it felt like had happened to him.
His mind raced, shaking off the haze of a day-long nap. He’d gotten out of dangerous situations before. He could handle this. He needed to get out of here, and get to somewhere safe. He slipped off the bed, and tippy-hoofed over to the vanity stand where his sweater was draped. It wasn’t in any condition to be worn, but the precious cargo in its breast pocket was still intact. His satchel was tossed nearby, and…
“What are you still doing here?”
Trenderhoof whipped around, and backed up against the wall. Blueblood was sitting up in bed. Holy shit, he was gorgeous. Even blurry-eyed from sleep, with his mane and fur mussed, he was amazing. In fact those things only made him more desirable.
“I was, um, just leaving,” sad Trenderhoof. His path to both the door and the windows were within lunging distance of Blueblood. In theory, since Blueblood wanted him gone, leaving should be easy. But Blueblood was a sociopath, so who knew what he’d do?
Blueblood glanced at the nighttime urban glow outside, and pouted. He literally stuck his bottom lip out and whimpered. Pretty lip. Trenderhoof wanted to suck on it.
“I missed an important meeting because of you. Auntie Tia will be disappointed in me,” he simpered.
“Well, that’s terrible,” said Trenderhoof, inching across the front of the vanity and towards the door. “I’ve got a deadline in five hours, so I can relate. But hey, it was worth it, right? I had an amazing time. I came so hard. You’re an incredible lay. The best I’ve ever had.” This was all true. Except the last bit; there were one or two who were better. So a small white lie.
The sincerity of Trenderhoof’s words must have struck home, because Blueblood’s pout was replaced by a goofy, lop-sided smile. A happy puppy smile that made Trenderhoof want to stay and scratch him between the ears. Flattery, Trenderhoof reflected, would get you everywhere.
But then the smile vanished. “You said you were a writer,” hissed Blueblood, like it was a curse.
“Yeah. I mean. I’ve got a modest following. Nothing big. Nobody really reads me, how do I even do this for a living, right?”
“If word gets out that I have… dallied with a commoner my reputation will be ruined .”
“What?” Trenderhoof could not believe what he was hearing. Was Blueblood that out of touch with reality? Did he know his reputation with most ponies could not possibly get any worse? News of him ‘dallying’ with a ‘commoner’ would probably improve things for him.
“Remember — if you so much as think about writing about what happened between us,” growled Blueblood, “I will end you with my bare hooves. No. Wait. Blood is hard to get out of white fur. With my magic.”
Trenderhoof bolted out the door before Blueblood could remember the small pink stain beneath his left nostril. The hotel’s floor plan was typical of dozens Trenderhoof had stayed at, and he was able to find the stairs down without thought. He made a quick stop in the restroom on the first floor to scrub as much of the obvious cum out of his face fur as he could. Then he headed out into the hot, crowded Cluckstantinople night.
Trenderhoof had spent a week here already, and was able to find one of the city’s famous public baths without much trouble. After soaking away the evidence of the day’s criminal sexual activities, he headed to one of the few restaurants on his list that he hadn’t been to yet. He ordered something comforting — a punishingly spicy traditional dish made of corn meal and cranberries — and glass after glass of lion’s milk. Lion’s milk tasted like unsweetened liquorish, burned like backwoods moonshine, and was meant to be enjoyed in times of great celebration or personal tragedy. Being murdered by a delusional royal would a tragedy. Best to be prepared.
Alcohol has always been a writer’s best friend. The main obstacle to writing is fear — fear that your words, once out of your head in a place where anyone can see them, will be mocked, misinterpreted, or worst of all, ignored. But once a pony was drunk enough, he simply didn’t care. There were other, healthier ways to head off writer’s block, but few were so effective, or so quick. So Trenderhoof wrote. He wrote about all the things he had seen in the past week. The morning light on the ocean. The ruins of lost cites. The palatial villas along the river. The cacophony of the bazaar. The dome of the Phasianidae Sophia. The wonders prepared by the citiy’s chefs.
He also wrote about being rutted by a magnificent, animalistic monster whose level of passion had not been seen since the herd-lords of the Paleo-pony era. Then he tore those pages up and burned them in the little candle on the table, because not only could they get him killed, they weren’t appropriate for a travel and restaurant column.
Were the words good? Were they even coherent? Trenderhoof had no idea. Even if her were sober enough to tell, he didn’t have a chance to re-read them. When he was done had to dash to a late night dragongram office to send them off to his Canterlot publisher, minutes ahead of his deadline. Let his editor worry about his words now. They were out of his hooves.
He headed off prancing into the night, and immediately found himself face to chest with an enormous cock.
No, Trender you idiot, male turkeys are called toms.
“Hello, big guy,” purred Trender, looking up. Turkeys weren’t generally to his taste, but he was drunk enough that he was up for any type of dick. Wait, did Turkeys even have dicks? Or just a hole? Whatever. He was bisexual. He could adapt. Anyway, the turkey was broad shouldered, narrow hipped, and smelled very male.
“Are you Trenderhoof?” said the turkey.
“Oh, so you’ve heard of me,” purred Trenderhoof. “Do you want an autograph? I’ll sign anything. Literally anything.”
The bird produced a badge from somewhere. “Special Agent Tacitus Arsine, Turkish secret police. You were seen earlier today with prince Blueblood?”
Oh buck it with a polo mallet, it was the five oh. Vice, no doubt. Trender tried to bolt, but two more big turkeys had closed in behind him while he’d been talking. “We didn’t do anything. We went back to his room and played checkers, I swear.”
“So you were with him. Excellent. I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with us.”
Author's Note
I wish to sincerely apologize for my portrayal of the Turkish people in this segment of the story. Particularly, I wish to apologize for portraying them as giant semi-anthropomorphic birds. Few, if any, real Turks are like this.
Sadly.
Anyway: Next time: That plot I said I wasn't going to have. Cerebus syndrome has already kicked in. Damn it. I guess sex is hotter if it has context.
“Don’t lie to us. You’re his contact here. I know it.”
Trenderhoof was locked in a dark, damp stone room in an old fortress, sitting across the table from Special Agent Tacitus. They’d given him a cup of coffee three hours ago, and nothing else. He’d been in here all that time, without bathroom breaks. His head pulsed, his eyes burned, he was hungry, and he had to pee. Yes, Trender was a masochist. Yes, he enjoyed pain and discomfort. But only in certain very specific contexts. Only when he felt safe. Did that mean Blueblood made him feel safe? Clearly, Trender wasn’t a good judge of character.
“I’m an Equestrian citizen. I demand to be taken to the consulate,” mumbled Trender. He’d been saying that for hours; it was not going to get him anywhere. The phrase had become a mantra; something to say to keep himself from abandoning hope. There was and Equestrian Consulate in Cluckstantinople. It was a place he could go. It would be better than this.
“A simple, ordinary citizen, who just happened to meet with Prince Blueblood. By chance.”
Trenderhoof shrugged. “I ran into him in the bazaar this morning.”
“Yesterday morning, at this point,” corrected Tacitus. “And then what happened?”
“We had sex, first in public, then in a hotel room.” Tacitus clealrly wasn't interested in enforcing bizarre Turkish sexual laws. He was looking for Blueblood. But maybe if he kept mentioning the sex, they'd send him to a normal Turkish prison, where he could lawyer up and they'd let him use the bathroom.
Tacitus tapped a wingtip on the table. “If you insult my intelligence one more time, there will be consequences. Why is Blueblood here, and what was your business with him?”
Trenderhoof bumped his nose against the table. “Why is it so hard to believe that we just fucked? We’re stallions. We have needs. I know it’s against your culture, but this sort of thing is normal in our country. Whatever he’s doing here, he didn’t tell me about it.” This wasn’t entirely true. He hadn’t given them the line about ‘doing Auntie Tia’s dirty work’, but saying that felt like treason, and Trender suspected that at this juncture letting that slip would only encourage further interrogation, anyway.
Tacitus’ wing shot up towards Trender’s forelock. There had been no actual violence so far in their interview, so Trender barely flinched as Tacitus tangled his wingfingers in Trender’s hair. The gesture was almost tender, until Tacitus slammed Trender’s face against the table. A wave of black stars shot through his skull, followed by the sharp, radiating sting of an injured nose and the smell of wet rust.
“Ow,” said Trender, dripping blood on the table.
“Handkerchief?” said Tacitus.
“Thanks,” said Trender.
“Now that we have that out of the way — Prince Blueblood believes in the superiority and purity of the Equestrian royal bloodline. He’d never violate his principals for something as trivial as sex .”
“Ponies and turkeys are very different,” observed Trender, his voice muffled by the handkerchief.
A knock came on the cell door.
“Excuse me, I have to take this,” said Tacitus. “Would you like some more coffee while I’m up?”
“I’m good,” said Trender. His nose really hurt. He was worried it might be broken.
The two turkeys whispered at each other in the doorway. Trender rotated his ears towards them. It was sad how poorly ponies and turkeys understood each other. One thing turkeys didn’t understand about ponies was that in general, they had pretty good hearing.
“What do you mean he’s here?” said Tacitus.
“I mean, he just waltzed in the secret entrance and demanded to talk with you,” said the other Turkey.
“Tell him I’m busy. No. Wait. Arrest him. Why haven’t you arrested him?”
“We tried to, he just teleported out of the way, and asked to see you again.”
Tacitus ran one wing over his face in frustration. “Keep him talking. I need to get something from my office.” Tacitus turned back to Trenderhoof. Trender acted as though he were absorbed in the pain from his nose. Not a difficult act.
“Pardon me a moment," said Tacitus. "I have some matters to attend to. Be right back, I promise.”
The iron door of the cell slammed. Special Agent Tacitus. Good cop and bad cop, all in one tireless package. Trender listened to his claws tap on the stone floor, receding rapidly. He emptied his coffee cup and crept out of his chair. If he held it open side against the iron door, it served as adequate amplification.
Now that he was no longer focused on his own suffering, he could hear, even with the unaided ear, sounds of wailing and weeping from outside the cell. Wails of despair and anger. A repeated, hollow thump, like someone pounding their skull against a stone wall.
This was a bad place.
Trender tensed as he heard the click of Tacitus’ claws again, but they moved past him to the left.
“Tacitus Arsine,” said Blueblood’s voice, faint but audible, from the left. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person. Let me say with the greatest sincerity that regardless of the official position of the Principality of Equestria, I’m a deep admirer of your work.”
“What are you doing here? How did you find this place?” said Tacitus.
“You have something of mine. A small toy. I’d like it back please.”
Tacitus laughed. “You don’t think you’re ever leaving this place, do you? Even your aunt can’t help you here.”
“I’m sorry, did I stutter? My toy is a small brown stallion. Bring it to me. I’m warning you — I will not ask you a third time. You’re keeping me from getting what I want, and if I don’t get what I want, do you know what I do? I throw a tantrum .”
A third voice piped up. They weren’t alone. “Awww, is the widdle pony gonna throw a tantwum?” This was followed by the gobbling laughter of several turkeys. The mockery and the laughter were cut off by a wet crunching noise and a gurgling scream.
“Get him!” shouted Tacitus. The next minute and a half was a symphony of screaming, twanging crossbow strings, pistol reports, and some very organic sounding splattering and crackling noises. Trenderhoof winced, hoping none of the screams were Blueblood’s.
“Ha! You’ve dispatched my guards, but you won’t find me so easily dealt with!” shouted Tacitus.
“Tacitus, dear, what is that lovely charm you’re wearing? It protects you from unicorn magic, I suppose?” drawled Blueblood.
“Yes! Your powers are useless against me.” The sound of a revolver being cocked. “I’ll give you a chance to beg for your life.”
“Capital! Tell me, does your charm also protect you against flying office furniture?”
“What?”
There was another scream, and crash of splintering wood.
“I didn’t think so,” said Blueblood.
Heavy hoof-steps echoed down the hallway. The lock on the door whined and snapped, and the door creaked open. Blueblood stood there, somehow clean and calm. He didn’t even seem to have broken a sweat. “Ah. There you are! What’s wrong with your face? I hope they haven’t permanently harmed you; you’re no use to me ugly.”
Trenderhoof was dumbstruck. Blueblood's magic plucked the handkerchief out of his hoof and gently wiped the blood from his nose. “No serious harm. Good. This place is teleport shielded; we’ll have to walk out.”
Blueblood turned and walked away from him. Trender followed. “What’s going on?”
“I told you I was here to do Auntie Tia’s dirty work. She is, bless her immortal heart, a good pony . As a good pony , she’s deeply troubled by some of the things that go on in this world. Such as, in this case, secret government torture facilities. But, as a good pony , she’s also powerless to do what needs to be done to stop these atrocities. That,” he said, flashing a grin back at Trenderhoof, “is where I come in.”
They’d come to another iron door at the end of the hallway. Blueblood flung it open. The room on the other side was full of the aftemath of Blueblood's 'tantrum'. Turkeys lay everywhere, bodies slashed, crushed, twisted, and broken, weapons limp in their cold, dead wings. Maps on the walls detailed a massive, twelve level prison complex, and rows of mug shots depicted some of the prisoners of conscience kept here. All of these things were now covered with blood and feathers. In one corner, Tacitus’ broken body lay crushed beneath a heavy oak desk. Blood dripped from his beak.
Blueblood wrinkled up his nose and sidestepped away from Trender as he vomited.
“Y-you did this?” gasped Trender, when he was done.
Blueblood nodded, grinning like a school-colt on Heath’s Warming Eve. “I can hardly simply assassinate the chief of secret police on the street. That would be gauche. But to complain about me muderering him here , the Turkish government would have to first admit that the place existed, which is hardly in their best interests.” He stepped over to a control panel and tripped an entire row of switches. “There. Auntie will be delighted to know I released the prisoners, and the chaos they cause will nicely cover our escape. Come this way — we need to make it to the roof of the compound before anyone else sees us!”
A sky chariot came and took them from the roof of the old castle that housed the secret facility. They flew to an EUP Navy frigate floating off the coast of Turkey. Trenderhoof leaned against Blueblood’s side during the flight, feeling his massive rib cage rise and fall against his cheek. When they landed, he was swept away from Blueblood — a doctor set his broken nose, a couple of gruff pegasi debriefed him, someone gave him food, and coffee, and then they showed him to a private cabin, where we took a bath, poured himself a very stiff drink, and laid down on the bed.
He drifted along the edge of sleep, the boat’s gentle motion rocking him side to side, trying to make sense of things. Something about today didn’t quite add up, but he couldn’t quite put his hoof on it. He sighed, finished his whiskey, and set the glass on the bedside table. He was too tired and too traumatized to make sense of it. He has to… Something… something… turkeys… something… Blueblood’s cock…
He was awakened by the sound of the cabin door opening. Hooves thumped on the wooden floor and paused near the foot of his bed. Trenderhoof inhaled. Blueblood’s scent. Unmistakable. His cock began to stir in its sheath. Stupid cock. Blueblood was bad for him, but his body knew what it wanted.
Trender was wearing a little green, fuzzy robe. Blueblood untied the belt, and let it slide down Trenderhoof’s flanks. Trender's cock inched its way up his belly, pulsing as it did. The bed creaked — Blueblood was on it. And on him. He laid his cock alongside Trender’s. The massive pink shaft dwarfed his. Fuck, Blueblood’s balls were touching his, and his flare was resting on his bottom rib. Trender arched his back involuntarily, and let out a soft moan.
“I knew you were awake,” sneered Blueblood. “You’re a hungry little commoner slut, aren’t you?”
“It’s so big,” said Trenderhoof, twisting to grind the belly of his cock against Trender’s.
“Mmmm. It is, isn’t it? How does your face feel?”
“Terrible,” said Trender, with perfect honesty. “Absolutely horrible.”
“If I wanted to be especially cruel,” said Blueblood, “I would use your face. Imagine it. My cock thrusting between your lips. Every motion sending spears of agony through your pretty, wounded muzzle. Your little sissy body pinned under me, powerless to do anything until I finish. And I’m quite tired. I might take rather a long time.”
“No…” whispered Trender, his eyes snapping open. He stared up at Blueblood’s psychotic-boy-next-door grin, wondering if he’d actually do something that horrible.
“Beg,” said Blueblood, rubbing his cock lazily against Trender’s. “Beg me to fuck you up the ass, instead.”
Trender reached up to stroke Blueblood’s fluffy white chest placatingly. “Please. Up the ass. Please don’t hurt me. You can ruin my ass. I’ll love it.”
Blueblood licked his lips. “Tell me I can do it dry. It will probably hurt less than fucking your broken snout. Probably.”
Trender made a choking noise. That would hurt. A lot. “Please. You can go in dry. Don’t hurt my face.” He felt a tear trickle through the fur of his cheek.
Blueblood laughed. “I’m only having fun with you, toy. Fucking that pretty face-pussy of yours in your current state might permanently disfigure you, and I can’t have that. And if I went in dry before your ass has been fully trained, I’d probably kill you. Mind you all the lube I could find is this bottle of olive oil from the galley, but it will have to do.”
He levitated the bottle over and drizzled golden, fragrant oil across this pulsing tube. They used an almost entirely full bottle; lots of it got into Trender’s soft brown fur and onto his cock as he worked it into Blueblood’s cock with his hooves. Blueblood groaned happily and slid the shaft back off Trender’s belly. He dragged the flare over Trender’s balls, and stuffed it in between his buttocks, grinding against the tiny bud of his ponut.
“Good little toy,” purred Blueblood. “Now open for your master. Or do I need to batter my way inside?
Trenderhoof gulped and spread his hind legs as wide as they’d go. He bore down as hard as he could, opening his ass as wide as it would go. He was an experienced anal slut, but he’d never encountered anything like Blueblood's dick before. The tried not to tense up as that battering ram-like flare pushed against his plothole and forced its way inside. It hurt a little when the flare popped through, but once the shaft was inside he just felt a wonderful, aching fullness.
Blueblood’s handsome face grew slack with pleasure as he felt himself enveloped by Trender’s body. “Oh yes. You tight little whore. You have such a lovely little ponut. So tight . So silky !”
Trenderhoof closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of Blueblood’s cock pushing deeper and deeper into him. His medial ring plucked at the ring of Trender’s ponut and then pushed inside. Trender bit his lower lip. That was the good stuff. Sure enough, when those big pink balls started slapping against his ass, the medial ring hit the special spot inside of him.
“Fuck!” shouted Trenderhoof, hooves flailing at Blueblood's chest. “Fuck me harder!”
Blueblood sneered, clearly angered by Trender’s impertinence. He slammed his lean hips forward with every word, apparently not realizing that he was giving Trender exactly what he wanted. “You… do… not… give… me… orders!”
Trender gasped, unable to reply. He loved the massive, beautiful body moving over him, and the leg-like cock re-arranging his guts. It didn't matter if the pony they belonged to was evil, psychotic, or both. In fact, that knowledge only contributed to his pleasure. Blueblood might be a bad pony, but he was his bad pony. Pleasure burned through his body. He bucked under Blueblood, and his cock began spurting, spraying across his own chest and the top of his belly. Blueblood, impressed by this filthy and humiliating display of lust, whinnied and thrust into Trender so hard it started pushing him across the bed. He tried to say something, probably about the deficiencies of impertinent commoner sluts, but it just came out as babbling nonsense. His hips trembled wildly. Trender felt drops of royal drool plop onto his face, even as he felt the cock pulsing into him, spraying an enormous load of cum into his guts.
They lay there, panting, Blueblood slumped over Trender. There was no cuddling, and no conversation — Blueblood was done with him. When he had caught his breath, Blueblood slid his hose out of Trenderhoof’s ass and went to draw himself a bath.
As Trenderhoof lay there, feeling cheap but satisfied, a cold realization crept into his heart. He knew what Blueblood had done.
Blueblood stepped out of the cabin’s small bathroom, rubbing himself down with a towel.
“You used me as bait,” said Trenderhoof.
Blueblood raised an eyebrow. “Did I?”
“You didn’t know how to get close to Arsine. So when you saw me in the Bazaar, you had an idea — when your name showed up on a vice report, you knew Arsine would take an interest.”
“He is very thorough and very good at his job. No. I’m sorry. He was very good at his job,” said Blueblood with a smirk.
“He couldn’t arrest you, but he could arrest me. And somehow, you followed me.”
“A tracking spell, deep inside of you. Permanent, I’m afraid”
Trenderhoof found that he was shaking. “You’re a monster.”
Blueblood shrugged. “In retrospect, I regret endangering you, but how was I to know you’d be such a wonderful toy? Anyway, it was for the greater good, was it not?’
“Get out of my room.”
“Very well. If I need you, I know where to find you.” Blueblood sauntered out the cabin door and shut it behind him.
Trenderhoof rolled over onto his side and sobbed into a pillow.
Author's Note
And that's part one. Big warning to my few monosexual readers, next chapter will probably involve an M/F/F scene. After that chapter, we'll probably head off to Neighpon. Barely legal kirin prostitutes ahoy!
