Alternatively: Daring Do And The Emasculated Zebra
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Malayar And The Golden Idol (Featuring Daring Do)
Alternatively: Daring Do And The Emasculated Zebra
Xochiquetzal. Jaalala. Qumnnatii. Those three words were all he had to go on to find the temple. Malayar, a stallion of the striped persuasion, had spent weeks asking around at local tribes, guides, witchdoctors, shamans, all in the pursuit of a legendary and oft disputed treasure of archaeological renown. He had received vague directions from them all, often being an ominously foreshadowing word or euphemism as far as he could tell, his skills in the native language subpar at best. He had made out the words ‘clam’, ‘trench’, ‘pillar’, ‘two-back’, and other loosely connected strings of words in his search. However, through many hours of concentration and deduction, he had come to the epiphany of a single location, the only place it could be. The Heart of Dimness, the direct centre of the continent’s thickest jungle. He supplied heavily for the journey, the trek through the dense jungle would require every ounce of food, water and all bug repellent he could carry on his admittedly lithe frame. He rattled with pots, pans, cans – both propellant and food – during his first day. When the sun had set for the first time during his excursion, he was already forced in to scrounging, having abandoned his backpack to escape a particularly ravenous cloud of mosquitoes...
The repellent didn’t work.
Throughout the rest of the journey, he was forced to abandon various articles of his explorer’s clothing. The first causality of the excursion was his shirt. It was torn from his very body whilst fording through the mighty river he knew as Gush, the extremely strong current no doubt reducing the fabric to atoms. His shorts became hammock to a particularly thick and aggressive banana snake, and his cloth helmet was polished by the avid tongue of a tuls-frog, and he was forced to abandon it lest the saliva melted through his skull… supposedly.
After the longest two days of his life, the stallion finally broke through the edge of the jungle, exhausted, dazed and fatigued he could barely stand. He took a few steps forward, collapsing under his tiredness. Panting, he looked up, and within a flash, his tired face turned into one of exuberance. Before him, towering and colossal like a glorious mountaintop, was a piece of architecture that his eyes alone had been the first to look upon for over a millennium. It was a large golden dome, capped with a protruding blunt digit at the very peak. He was surprised to find that, despite the length of time, the structure still appeared to be firm in standing, with no indentations or imperfections whatsoever from a glance. It was truly a marvel. He had found it. The lost temple of the forgotten goddess!
He climbed back to his hooves, reinvigorated, and made his way towards the immaculate structure. Blocks of solid gold gave the temple its apparent rigidity, and the stallion’s face was plastered with awe when he arrived at the darkened entrance. He was too eager and excited to rest, and his hooves carried him past the daunting archway, which gaped uninvitingly for the abyssal cavern it appeared to lead into. Fortunately, his advance into the darkness was rewarded with light, for under hoof a plate gave way and sank into the floor. He heard the sound of a spark. Suddenly, he was bathed in the light of a hundred torches that jutted out from the ceiling above, the intricate mechanism of such constructed by a civilisation long lost. He was taken aback by its majesty, amazed by the fact he was almost blinded by the sheer extravagance of it. The walls glittering with intricate golden carvings, depicting equines and objects, celestial and grounded.
His legs carried him forwards of their own volition seemingly; his eyes dedicated to the peerage of his surroundings, face plastered with a giddy smile. He was so lost in curiosity and interest, he paid no mind to the pressure plates which continued to sink under his nimble steps, nor the wooshing sounds which seemed to accompany each sinking tile despite the twitch of his ears. He followed the path, vaguely recognising the style of the artistry, although he had only seen bits and pieces of it in other works. The designs here looked like the common ancestor of more less older, yet still ancient civilisations. A truly fascinating...
At the end of the carved stone path he trailed, the engravings on the wall came to an end. He didn’t glean much from them, but they were still impressive none the less, worthy of being preserved in some fashion. If his backpack hadn’t been abandoned, he would have spent countless hours trying to sketch down the peculiar markings and inscriptions. At the end of the long hallway, he spun on his hind hooves, wanting to survey the chamber which he just walked… his jovial expression intermediately contorted into a wild look of confusion. Maw-like chasms in the ground. Splintered and broken spears scattered around the floor, giant pendulous axes swinging from the ceiling – on fire! Afraid, he took some steps back away from the discordant room, turning and trekking on. He was determined to find the temple’s legendary secret.
The next room was much more different than the first. If the displayed riches and corpulent wealth were not enough to distract any trespasser, then the base on oddly obscene sculptures of the next was bound to. Gold was still present, but the zebra was perturbed by what it was used for. Dotted around the antechamber were a number of statues. The trend amongst them was prostration and presentation, their likeness that of sultry mares, their privates precise-crafted to look almost identical to their real-life counterparts. As he followed the path, he scanned them, their holes wide enough easily for a hoof or… something else, if one were inclined. Fortunately for the striped stallion, he was totally passive to their allure. Fake or not, their privates had no hold over him. A gilded pole, however, and he might have been tempted… fortunately for him, this civilisation was a little dated on the idea of who was capable of raiding lost temples. The way their lustful eyes seemed to follow him also made him uneasy, and he hurried his pace rather than over linger.
After making it through the room of ineffective temptation, the zebra came to a split in the road. Another individual might have taken a moment to deliberate which path would lead to reward and one to destruction. The prior two rooms were wrought with traps and threats to one’s life, but without a second thought, he meandered casually down the path to his right. He would never know what would have occurred had he taken the left path, but his mind did not tread on the hypothetical for long, for at the end of the snaking road he was beholden to the most beautiful sight his eyes had ever been laid on.
The chamber itself was dim, and unlike the prior rooms the walls were not encrusted with enough to gold to secure a comfortable life for dozens of generations. Instead, the construction here was more humble, with carved moss-covered stone; the room illuminated by a hole in the ceiling which allowed unfiltered sunlight in from above. He glanced for sinking tiles and traps, forced into caution, but as far as he could tell there was none. Instead, there was but a single uncovered path leading to a pedestal in the room’s centre, where he saw a glint of shiny gold. Malayar felt a degree of anxiousness as he made his way towards it, unable to look at it fully but neither able to look away. He climbed the few misshapen steps to the pedestal, feeling inexplicably heavier as he stood before it.
The zebra gasped as he was finally able to bring himself to lay his eyes on it. He stared at the artefact with a look of avarice, his body frozen as he was enraptured by the sight. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before. It was a long and golden shaft, with a tip that looked like a shrunken and blunt mushroom, and at the base were too protruding orbs. He surmised that they were feet, but for the life of him, he could not conclude what it was. Perhaps time's natural course had eroded its natural features to the smooth sheen it had currently, or perhaps it was metaphorical representative of some old and ancient god. Regardless, Malayar had to have it. It was too significant to just leave. What if someone else took it? Then he would never get any credit...
Swallowing, he sat down on the stone ground, and with slow and trembling limbs he reached out for it. He wasn’t a complete idiot, he knew that the small idol might have been weighing down a pedestal that, once removed, would cause a whole assortment of danger to come rolling his way. But he hoped, rather naively, that if he removed it with enough deliberation in his movements, he would be safe. Tenderly, he gripped the shaft, running his hooves up and down it to find a suitable place to grip to the thick golden rod. Just under the tip he where he chose, the edges of his hooves pressing under the rim, he suddenly yanked it from the pedestal and held it his striped chest; eyes widened in waiting…
“Phew,” he breathed a sigh of relief, feeling his body sag as he relaxed for the first time since entering the temple; euphoric at holding a mythical artefact in his hooves. Unfortunately, his happiness was short-lived, as he was finally able to pin why his body felt a tad heavier when stepping up the pedestal.
Ker-chunk!
The floor fell from right beneath him, and he barely had time to release a scream before he was plunged into the abyss below. He thought a deep pit, lined with spikes awaited him at the bottom, or some deep dank hole he never had any hope of escaping until starvation took him. Instead, he broke the surface into a cascade of water, the torrent carrying him on the powerful current. His forehooves remained tightly wrapped around the artefact, having to rely on his hind legs to kick himself out of the water to gasp down the air afforded to him from the moist tunnel he was being carried through. The tide seemed to go on forever, and he spent most of it submerged, but before he knew it, he traded drowning for falling. He was unceremoniously spat out from the temple, landing face first into a pile of wet mud. He raised his head, dizzy, immediately going into a panic when he realised the artefact was no longer in his hooves… until it hit his head with a painful thud. Caring for the lump growing on his head, the waters continued to wash down over him for a few more seconds until, with a thunderous click, the door from which he emerged, closed.
He was disorientated, sore, and couldn’t see anything with his striped mane plastered all over his face. He prioritised the artefact first and foremost, reaching out for it blindly until he felt the solid hardness of it between his hooves once more. He held it so close that the rounded tip pressed against his cheek, and his smile would have been perceived as suggestive if not for the genuine happiness it radiated. It was his near-literal golden ticket. He knew not what would come of the treasure. Fame, fortune, maybe he would finally earn the respect of his so-called colleagues who doubted he would find the temple to begin with. He basked in his glory for a few moments. He didn’t want to think on the return journey, or the strife he would no doubt encounter in doing so. Finally, he had done something right!
“Looks like you just saved me a whole lot of trouble,” came a mare’s voice, the sudden intrusion of which almost made the zebra jump up in surprise.
Uncurling one hoof from the treasure, he parted his wet mane from in front of his emerald green eyes, looking on a mare with perturbing familiarity. “W-who are you? How did you find this place?” he asked, voice wavering.
She had a dim golden coat and rosy red eyes which exuded a natural inquisitiveness. Her mane and tail followed a peculiar scale of grey to dark black, and she wore a green shirt and tropical hat. After he had registered her presence, she stepped towards him, cocking a lopsided grin. “I’m Daring Do,” she answered, smiling. “And as for how… well, I already answered that when I introduced myself.”
Not phased by her confidence, Malayar rose unsteadily to his hooves, one holding the artefact with guarded closeness to his chest. “D-Daring Do? The s-storybook character?”
“In the flesh,” she confirmed, giving the zebra a nod before looking at the golden rod he held. “And it looks you have something that belongs to me.”
“What?” his brows met. He confused on what she was specifying until he saw she was giving a pointed stare to the artefact. “B-but- no! I found it. It’s my discovery!” he rebuked, grasping it even tighter. “I went to a lot of work to find this.”
“And what do you intend to do with it?” she asked, incredulous.
“Put it where it belongs – a museum!”
“It shouldn’t be on display at all! Do you even know the curse that idol carries?” she retorted, face scrunching up into a grimace as the zebra frowned.
“What curse?”
“It, uh, well...” she struggled to say, lips pursed as her cheeks became pink, unsure how to word it.
“I’m not convinced,” Malayar said before she could continue. “But it doesn’t matter anyway. I will never give it up!”
Daring sighed, composing herself and looking the lithe zebra over, pensive. “I don’t want to hurt you. So...” she trailed off, shrinking the space between them and smiling suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows. “Perhaps we can come to some kind of… arrangement?” she suggested seductively, her breath glancing off his lips as she wore a flirtatious air.
“No,” he replied simply, frowning.
“Oh…” she replied, pulling back, surprised he was able to resist. She sighed, looking reluctant. “Well, your choice.”
“Really?” he asked, put at ease.
“No,” she replied, mimicking his bluntness, before she smashed his muzzle with the top of her hat…
When Malayar came to, he was disorientated. He stared up above for a few minutes until finally, the scene became focused. He recognised the dense bramble of a jungle top, sun filtering through the tightly packed branches and leaves. He became acquainted with the surrounding ambience too, of insects larger than his head and animals so small that nobody would blame you for underestimating their deadliness. When he instinctively tried to roll over, he found himself unable. He tried to reach for the light above, but was also stopped. Panicked, he frantically began to thrash, realising quickly that his hooves were bound in tight jungle vines. His forehooves were curled against his chest, his hind legs tied together leaving him lewdly exposed. He was being pulled along by his captor, who balanced the artefact of his endeavour on her back, almost tauntingly, and way out of his reach.
“I’m surprised by easy you were to knock out. I didn’t draw blood,” she mentioned casually, a twig snapping under her hoof.
“H-hey! Let me go!” he demanded, prioritising freedom over his hard earned treasure for the moment; shooting her a glare and ineffectually baring his teeth.
“I never did get your name,” she replied back flatly, totally unaffected by his tone of voice.
“Malayar!” he spat, unable to help introduce himself, “now please let me go.”
“Malayar?” she looked over her shoulder, incredulous. “Really? Doesn’t that translate to clueless-”
“Don’t you dare,” he interrupted with a pout, cheeks flushing pink. The issue of his name was a great deal of contention for the zebra.
“Okay, okay,” she acquiesced, giving a short chortle before looking forwards again. “But in return, you have to keep quiet for the rest of the way.”
“I will do no such thing!” he growled, defiant before her full sentence dawned on him. “Wait, wait, wait. Where are you taking me?”
“To base camp, obviously,” she answered with a scoff before glancing back at him for a moment, “I mean, you must be really stupid or really brave to head into the jungle without any supplies.”
“I didn’t head into the jungle without supplies,” he retorted loudly, before tightening his lips, shrinking somewhat. “I just lost them...” he added quietly.
“So it’s the former then? I guess your name is apt at least,” she quipped playfully, continuing her leisurely jaunt.
“If we’re heading to camp, untie me. I’ll walk with you the rest of the way,” he offered. “I’m sure I’m quite heavy,” he added, falsifying concern.
“Three things. First: no. I don’t trust you to not yoink the artefact and run into the jungle. Secondly: if you did do that, I’d be indirectly responsible for your death, and I can’t have that on my conscience, and thirdly...” she trailed off with a pause, looking at the zebra with a coy grin, “you’re quite slim.”
Malayar grumbled, unsure if appreciating a compliment was appropriate at the time. He decided to accept it. “Thank you,” he mumbled before allowing himself to be dragged the rest of the way to camp. At least he wouldn’t die to the elements…
By the time they reached the camp it was night. Malayar had almost dozed off, kept awake only by a combination of fear and stubbornness. Daring dragged him by a tree, haphazardly propping him up against the thick trunk of a nearby tree. Thereafter she went about making the small camp habitable for the night. She started a fire rather quickly using her nimble wings, the spark to immediate blaze making the zebra wince at the sudden brightness of it. As she meandered around, rolling out the singular bedroll and removing her hat and shirt. Meanwhile, Malayar’s eyes followed her closely, or more specifically, the artefact which continued to wobble on her back as she prepared the camp.
“What are you going to do with it?” he asked, watching as she nestled the golden rod in the nearby alcove of a tree.
“With what?” she replied, pretending to be ignorant as she wrapped some vines around the artefact.
“You know what,” he said, sullen, tearing his eyes from the vine-covered hole back to the mare, who shared with him a frown.
“Well...” she started, undoing the buttons of her shirt. “I’ll probably hide it away somewhere safe.”
“Where it’ll never get found again?” he probed, frowning at her.
“Probably,” she shrugged, sharing his
“But what’s the point?” he inquired, frustration in his voice.
“Some things are safe enough to go to museums. Others need to be protected, hidden,” she answered, sitting on her bedroll, which was adjacent to him on the other side of the dancing flames. She shared an empathetic look with him, his ire not washing away from his face. “I understand why you’re angry, but it’s just not safe, Malayar.”
“Because of the ‘curse’,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “Curses exist only in fairy tales, and your books, Miss Daring Do.”
“I wasn’t lying about it!” she met his scepticism with a pout, flustered. She then stole a glance to the hidden artefact with pursed lips. “Although if the texts were right, it was supposed to have already taken effect...”
“If this so-called curse of yours is fake, which it clearly is, can I have it back please?”
“Sure,” she shrugged, “don’t see why not.”
He blinked. “Really?”
“Yeah, of course. I’ll even mention you in my next book for the inconvenience,” she offered, her cheek tugging back into a half-smile, matching the zebra’s own.
“Wow… does this mean you’ll untie me-”
“No,” she interrupted, smirking. “Not until I’m sure it’s safe, and that you’ll not just run off with it first thing. Come morning, I might consider untying you if you promise to be a good little zebra, okay?”
“Fine,” he scoffed, nestling into his spot with a petulant frown, although he was considerably lifted from his dour mood. Although, there remained one issue he needed resolving. “Do you think you could untie my legs?”
“Why?”
“I’m, uh...” he trailed off, trying to avoid pointing out the obvious. Whilst having his slim stomach left him feeling exposed to danger, his similarly displayed black balls and sheath left him feeling humiliated.
Daring shrugged, wearing a coy grin. “Eh, I dunno. I think it makes for good penance.”
“For what?” he frowned, embarrassed.
“Endangering yourself by heading unprepared into the thickest jungle on the continent. Refusing to listen to a mare who is definitely more experienced than yourself-”
“Hey! I’m-”
“Not finished!” she interrupted, wearing a playful look of scolding. “And finally. Nopony, and I mean nopony, has ever refused my charms before.”
Malayar’s brows furrowed. “You knocked me out because I didn’t want to have sex with you?”
“Well, no, but you did force my hoof,” she replied, curling her lip. “It’s either the idea of a good time for them which leads to a bad time or just a bad time.”
“The ‘idea’ of a good time?” he asked, seeking elaboration. “Are you telling me that if I agreed you wouldn’t have done the deed?”
“Of course not,” she replied, suppressing laughter, resting her head on her crossed hooves. “It’s just that when someone is motivated by greed, they tend to get as much as they can. They usually think they can have both my holes, and the treasure, and end up getting neither.”
“So by not having sex with you, it proved I wasn’t just doing what I’m doing for money?” he probed, wanting to discern the mare’s thinking.
“Yep,” she replied promptly, nodding. “I’m not the only treasure hunter slash archaeologist in the world. Although not everypony has motives as pure as mine. Some are in it for the glory, money, and occasionally world domination. It’s nice to know I encountered a fellow hunter with a sterling motive.”
He raised a brow. “I’m gay you know?”
She blinked, then smirked, only half-surprised. “It was a fifty-fifty chance. I guess that means you might still be motivated by greed,” she replied, pointing to his restraints. “I guess you gave me a solid reason to keep you tied up for the rest of the night.”
“But-”
“G’night, Malayar,” she chortled, turning onto her back. “Don’t sleep with an open mouth. You never know what might crawl in there.”
“Daring! Daring...” he called, although she was quick to sleep, or good at pretending to be. The zebra huffed, his body tensing. Moments passed before he relaxed, able to see the stares through a few gaps in the treetops. When he became at ease he offered a final glance to the artefact, hidden away by daring. He stared at it until he drifted off, embraced by sleep, just missing when that dark pit glowed pink, imbuing thoughts of insatiable carnality in the pony who held it last...
Malayar woke up feeling… good. It was the kind of good that made him think he was dreaming. He parted his lips to inhale, his breaths shallow as he felt bliss almost overwhelm him. His eyes slammed open. It was still night, the stars were still sewn into the black velvet sky, but not too long after he fell into a slumber, the orange of the fire still bathing him. At first, he believed himself breaking free from the midst of a wet dream, but when he felt something wet glide over his ground, his eyes shot down. He saw something that punched the breath from his chest.
His obsidian club laid half-erect across his stomach, the unflared black tip dribbling out a generous amount of precum into his striped fur, throbbing with an almost unnatural amount of arousal; smacking against his belly with every strong tense. But that wasn’t what left him in a state of shock, it was the scene unfolding between his legs.
Daring Do, explorer, treasure hunter and author, was suckling on his ebony black balls with a scary amount of fervour. Her tongue polished his cum-sacks, the roiling balls warm and heavy with the zebra’s unspent seed. Malayar watched in horror as her tongue ran over them, the mare’s tongue not leaving any part uncovered in saliva. When his grassy eyes met her rosy hues, she stopped, pulling away with a bright toothy beam.
“Hey,” she greeted, one of her hooves pressing into his thighs. Her touch was repulsive to him at that moment, and he loathed the fact he couldn’t pull away. “You’re a heavy sleeper unlike your friend here,” she said, pointing to his hardness, “he woke up before you did!”
“W-what are you doing?!” he barked, angry, afraid and confused.
She seemed almost taken aback by his anger, blinking before she spoke. “I’m going to fuck you,” she answered bluntly, smiling with a glint in her eye. “But I had to get you nice and hard before I do that,” she elaborated, punctuating what she said by giving his rigid meat a few tender strokes. “I’ve never shagged a zebra before.”
“Y-you won’t be ‘shagging’ anyone!” he replied, seething, trying to ignore the pangs of pleasure which rang out within him like a forlorn bell. He tried to will himself soft, normally a mare’s machinations wouldn’t leave him so painfully hard but for some reason, he couldn’t help but twitch and leak.
“Your fat cock here says otherwise,” she taunted, speaking between idle strokes and quick licks to his sack, her body on a slutty autopilot.
“I don’t like mares!” he tried to combat her with words, make her see reason, but he was powerless to do anything but watch as she climbed to her hooves. He saw beneath her, glued to her hindlegs, glistening wet strands of her secretions plastered to her thighs. She looked like she was in heat, and when she turned, almost as if to present herself to him. Her puffy marehood glistened with juice, her labia sopping wet. Below her entrance, her clit winked at him furiously, her hole clenching and squeezing almost hungrily for a shaft that was absent.
“It’s a shame then. Not many have had the chance to fuck this tight twat,” she continued to speak, obscene language pouring from her mouth like a faucet. She then released a disappointed sigh, his large frown and futile attempt to squirm away leaving her deflated. “Why’d you have to be a faggot? I would’ve liked some enthusiasm, and out of all the explorers, I get the one who’s a colt cuddler.”
“You shouldn’t expect any enthusiasm from your victim!” his voice cracked, fear tearing asunder his words.
She laughed. “It won’t be rape if you end enjoy it,” she spoke gleefully, yet appeared disconnected from her own words, turning back to face him properly. He tried to retreat away from her when her forehooves pressed into his chest, her face coming uncomfortably close to his. “I might even be the one to turn you,” she purred in a low voice, lips coming close enough to almost graze his, “wouldn’t that be something? Hole’s a hole after all. You’ll still feel good at the end of the day.”
“I would never give you the satisfaction of hearing me moan,” he spat with vitriol, wincing when he felt her hips press down against him when he finished speaking. She was soft, unpleasantly so. “Stop,” he said between gritted teeth, the firmness of his voice was unpractised and pitiful.
“And why would I do that?” she toyed, planting a sloppy kiss, continuing to lightly grind up and down his pole. His cock, unlike the zebra, was entirely responsive. It twitched and throbbed, wordlessly begging to embed itself within the exquisite softness that pushed down upon it, regardless of who owned it. “I think I’m going to hear a moan from you sooner or later,” she continued, voice low, pulling her face away to rise and straddle his stomach. She gyrated her hips back and forth, her soaking pussy getting a feel for every rigid inch of his fuck stick. Her clit exposed itself frequently, for her flower constantly thrummed with a pleasurable heat that didn’t seem any closer to being extinguished. This was the curse of the artefact. But, ‘curse’, was a subjective term. To the ones who crafted it, it was fulfilling its purpose. This is what it did. In her mind at that moment, she only felt desire and carnality, the primal need to be bred. Her grinding grew more fervent, her desire to tease making way for a scorching need, her entire body trembling with it. “F-fuck. I wanted the foreplay to last just a l-little longer,” she bemoaned, squeezing down hard on his length; stopping just beneath his member’s crown.
“I don’t want to beg,” he said, voice quiet and unsteady. “But please-”
“I already made up my mind,” she told him directly, raising her wide voluptuous hips; a string of her honey connecting to the jet black member beneath her. She then curled a hoof clumsily around the cock beneath her and angled it towards her eager twat. The wide tip pressed against her pink gash, requiring only a strong push now to penetrate her tight canal. “Ready to get your mare-cherry popped? But hey, for all I know, this could be the first time you’ve topped anybody, you queer.”
Her words stung of obviously, but he offered nothing in retort – too afraid to move. He was worried that any movement would come across as reciprocation, or encouragement, and wanted to stave off the inevitable for as long as he possibly could. But the inevitable came too soon for his liking. She pushed her hips down, and his body seized as his cock popped inside her, the tight velveteen walls clamped down around his rigid black unit, squeezing him like the worlds most pleasurable vice. He got no respite, for as soon as it was within her she slid down his entire pole with agonising slowness, the slick canal took all of him to the hilt; Malayar overcome by its choking embrace. He was frozen with pleasure, his sensitive medial ring relentlessly squeezed by her cunt. Whilst he was overcome, Daring swayed from side to side with a contented expression, getting herself accommodated with the zebra’s member. It was a couple of inches shy of hitting her cervix, and its girth was nothing too filling. Still, she was happy to have it inside of her, to relieve the feeling of hollowness and assuage her burning need for the time being. She leant forwards, steadying herself on his chest and allowing a few inches of the zebra’s now femhoney covered dick to slide free.
Without another word, she pushed down, her plot slamming down with a hollow wet slap as she hilted him inside of her once more. She moaned, somewhat dissatisfied she didn’t hear one flutter into her ears from the zebra. His jaw did tremble as he tried to hold his voice, eyes clenched shut. Unfortunately, this only exacerbated the sensation. She felt warm, tight, and he hated that he couldn’t deny the pleasantness of it. Again, her hips rose and slammed down against his, his shaft throbbing as pleasure struck him like a thunderbolt. He barely had time to register that before she did it again, and again, and again! Adopting a steady rhythm, her lips cracking into a toothy smile as she watched his pained expression battle with the pleasure coursing within him. He could acknowledge one thing about the mare. She was insanely tight, and she knew it too. Every time he entered her, the walls would constrict, effectively milking his member of pre; the act prompting involuntary thrusts from the zebra’s ample striped hips.
“C’mon, moan for me. I know you want to,” she encouraged, slamming back down, her wet pussy producing a slap with every rhythmic slam of her hips. But despite the ecstasy, he managed to suppress them, still defiant. “My pussy can milk you way better than any stallion could. Admit it you fag, a mare can pleasure you better than any stallion,” she continued to titillate her clam, working the walls of her pink trench in trying to elicit as much bliss from the reluctant zebra as possible. The more defiant he was, the faster she would to try and provoke him. He would squirm, his body instinctively reacting to the pleasure it was receiving, but he wouldn’t release a peep. After a while she grew frustrated. abandoning taunts for moans of her own. She relied more and more on his chest for balance as she was drawn more into the act herself. Her winking clit grew faster, her hole tauter, and riding ever more fervent. Her pussy became like a river with how much mare-nectar she secreted, plastering her thighs and the zebra’s mons with her juices. Barely an inch left her now, her pussy greedy for the black cock which entered her, the pursuant of pleasure now a relentless sprint.
“Ha, ha, ha, ha,” she panted like a heat-stricken whore, bouncing up the zebra’s onyx stallionhood until finally, she keeled over, tongue lolling from her maw as her body was wrought with orgasm. It hit her like a bolt of lightning, a buffalo’s charge, a freight train’s collision. Her entire body shook in spasm, the brutal seizure of ecstasy left her drooling and motionless; embraced by the tight hug of bliss. She heard the zebra pant, obviously relieved. She thought he came too… but she didn’t experience any sudden fullness of the womb, nor the lancing thrust of stallion ejaculating nor the continued flex and dribble of a spent cock as it was withdrawn from her. He didn’t climax. She could still feel him within her, hard as stone, throbbing. After a while, she finally spoke, breathless; cheek still pressed against his chest. “I think… I think I just pinned you for a hard bottom, Malayar,” she quipped, out of breath.
“What gave it away?” he grumbled, frowning. He was thankful that the ordeal was over. He shivered with unwanted bliss when she raised her hips, allowing his cock to slide free and fall against her derrière with a wet meaty thud. His member was still painfully hard, twitching with the need to release, and needless to say, his black balls were now blue. But at the very least, he maintained some vestige of his pride, whatever trace of it remained. And in the end, he still kept to his promise. He didn’t moan. Not once. “What now?” he asked, hoping she didn’t continue to ride him.
After a moment of silence, the pegasus finally registered his words, raising her head from his chest. Although Malayar’s brows furrowed, her expression blank. “Malayar?” she probed suddenly, cheeks taking on a hue of pink. “W-why am I on top of you?”
The zebra’s furrowed his brows rose high, confused by her sudden change of tone. He didn’t sense an ounce of deceit within her. “Daring?” he verbally prod.
She winced before speaking, holding a hoof to her head. Struck with migraine. “W-what… what happened?”
He blinked, just as confused as she were. “You don’t remember?”
“Oh Celestia!” she exclaimed suddenly, looking over her shoulder to see the zebra’s black snake pressing down on her ass, the organ throbbing with an almost intimidating level of lust. “What happened!?” she asked again, more desperate in tone, unable to look away from the mamba.
Malayar would not have believed her panic was sincere if not for the way her body trembled atop him, adrenaline coursing through her veins. “You, um… forced yourself on me,” he phrased as delicately as he could, confused that the apparent situation was that they were both victims.
She stared at the zebra, features falling into an expression of pure dread. “The curse!” she stated, frantically rising from the zebra, her hind legs struggling to bear her weight. “Did you ejaculate?”
“No?” he answered, giving the author a skewed look.
“Then it’s not too late,” she replied vaguely. She hurried to his hind legs, her teeth latching to the vines as she yanked at them, coming loose.
“Why, what would have happened?” he asked, stretching his freed limbs, watching her keenly as she wobbled to reach his forehooves.
“Nothing major, just my body becoming the vessel for a foal that would have brought about the end of the world,” she answered with faux casualness, giving the zebra strained smile that was anything but disarming.
“Why didn’t you say something?” he exclaimed, his outrage giving her pause.
“Because you didn’t believe me!” she countered, yelling down at the zebra.
“Is it over then?” he asked.
“Hng!” Daring suddenly growled, falling limp to the ground beside the zebra in what appeared to be excrusiating pain.
Malayar couldn’t help himself. “Daring! What is it?!” he probed, worry crept onto his face. Her pained expression yielded no answers, but the zebra noted from the corner of his eye the alcove, the one where the treasure was hidden. It throbbed with dim red light, and from it, he could almost feel the anger that radiated from it. keeled over in pain, falling off the stallion and onto her back. His eyes widened with panicked realisation when he tried to reach for her, realising that she didn’t do his forehooves. “Daring, my hooves are tied! What do I-”
“The artefact!” she screamed at him, half in pleasure and half in desperation, her thighs quivering with a foreign pleasure. “You have to stop it before it’s too late! Touch it! Touch it!”
Malayar barely heard her, becoming fixated on her writhing form. The way her hips seemed to raise from the ground in an almost thrusting arc, almost as though she was fucking the air with a phantom cock. He hadn't a clue what was happening to her now but he shook his head to break his sickeningly curious fixation. Before, she just seemed overwhelmingly inflicted with lust, but this seemed almost different, as though she was undergoing an entirely different process. He tried using his freed legs to manoeuvre himself from the tree and over to the artefact. He rolled from his back onto his stomach, using his hind legs to push himself pushing himself along the soil, his cheek scraping along the ground. The artefact continued to throb with a dim red right, angry, furious, at something or most definitely someone if he had to guess. It was a struggle, but he got closer and closer, close enough that he could see the peak of the artefact in its hole. Unfortunately, just a foot from it, it stopped emitting its light. He barely had time to wear the shock he felt on his face before he felt a pair of nubile hooves wrap around his kicking limb. Instinctively he tried to buck Daring away, but she quickly coiled her second arm around his hooves until they both immobilised. Be it cause of the artefact or her natural strength the zebra found himself unable to advance any closer to the cursed treasure, and unable to wiggle free of her grasp.
"Where do think you're going?" she asked rhetorically, pulling him back towards her.
"Trying to help you," he answered through a clenched jaw, trying to shimmy pathetically towards his goal and making no gains.
"If that's what you wanted to do, why didn't you just say? I have a problem right now I could really use your help with," she purred lustfully, forcefully flipping over the zebra over when she finished speaking. He was still rigid, but this time, it wasn’t his cock she focused on.
"W-with what?" he asked, too afraid to initially pose the question. He expected another brutal riding from her, and he doubted that his endurance would hold out if he forced to undergo another bucking from the zealously horny Daring Do – mare or not – but a glance downward offered his eyes a sight that was too distracting to ignore. "W-what is that!" he exclaimed, too shocked to make his statement sound like a question.
"Why? You like it?" she asked, giving her hips a gentle sway. Below her, thick and long, was, of all things, a cock. It wasn't fully hard yet the zebra couldn't help but feel intimidated, even a little inadequate in comparison to it. The veritable slab of dick meat looked twice as thick as his fuck stick, and a whole quarter-size longer. With his eyes focused on it, it began to twitch, the organ having recognised a potential 'sheathe' to embed itself in. "You should have seen it. Growing and growing and growing," she cooed, her body shivering as she recanted the pleasure in her head. "It's not hard yet, not fully anyway. Want to see how big it'll get?" she asked with lustful sincerity, a playful grin breaking out on her face.
Malayar offered to no words, neither refusing or agreeing to her proposition. He was unable to tear his eyes away from the obscenely sized organ. It was the largest he had ever seen. His heart somersaulted in his chest. The fact it was attached to a mare did not at all detract from its admitted allure. Had he been in a more favourable situation he would have given anything to revere it, but at the present, he viewed it more as a bludgeon rather than a cock. He looked up at Daring, and when his eyes met hers the mare’s eyebrows waggled; her look seductive. “N-no?” he answered, the tincture of curiosity he held within stopped him being as firm as he wanted.
“Not convinced,” she replied, taking a few deliberate steps forward until she was standing over the zebra, forehooves planting down into the ground on either side the stallion’s head, imprisoning him beneath her. “And besides, how could I say no to that ripe ass of yours, huh?”
“T-that’s going i-inside of me?” he squeaked,
“It’s what you want, isn’t it?”
He shook his head, blushing. He tried his hardest to not glance down at her girth. She focused no attention on her tool, but beneath her, the organ stirred. It twitched and swelled, thickening and lengthening. The erotic sight of the mare getting hard did not fail to strike a chord with the zebra, who became enraptured with the sight. The maredick throbbed to life, filling with piping hot blood, struggling to do so under its weight. It grew so long that it threatened to smack against her chest, yet so heavy as to point down at the zebra’s barrel. One which Malayar neglected to acknowledge was the new adage of her fat, pendulous sack, the plump cum churners hung low and heavy; filled with fresh seed eager to get out.
"It’s almost hypnotic," she observed, watching as the zebra's green irises followed her prick's needy twitches. "You've never seen this big before, have you? I bet you can't think about anything else other than touching it, right? That’s all you fags can think about when you see such an excellent dick within reach, isn’t it?” she taunted, lowering her plot until his smaller length was smothered under hers; provoking a pleasured hiss from the zebra. “You’re just a closeted cock-slut aren’t you? I bet you've spent more time with your whore lips around a thick meaty cock than exploring, haven’t ya?" she continued to talk, each insult was successful at making the zebra feel degraded, more so even than when he was buried shaft-deep inside of her. She was right to a degree. The column of dick meat was alluring in a way he couldn't quite describe, the fuck-pillar incomparable to any he had seen before. A part of him tried to tell himself that the curse was affecting him too, but that a lie and he knew it. The impressive cock, magic or no, inspired within him a sort of temptation, a little tug which encouraged him to say 'yes'. However, Malayar was well aware of what it was doing. If the curse could elicit from him just a drop of seed, the randy pegasus standing over him could use it to bring about the end of days. Even as she subtly moved her hips back forth, frotting her far larger cock against his own, he resisted the rising temptation to dart forwards and suckle on the inviting tip.
"No!" he spat, pursing his lips right after as his striped face became a shade of deep red, ignoring the pleasure being forced upon him once more."I don't want it anywhere n-near me!"
"You and I both know that's a lie," she retorted, unaffected by his defiance. "You can feel it, right? How hot it is, how thick it’s swollen with blood,” she spoke, struggling to suppress a moan as she spoke. “You can smell it too, can’t you? We're in the middle of a jungle and yet your nose can't escape the stench of its emissions. Smells delicious, doesn’t it? Go on, give it a lick, I wouldn’t blame you. And don’t be shy, it won't bite," she sang, inching her cock closer to the zebra's maw. She wasn't lying. His nostrils became clogged with the scene of her contrasting masculinity, a bud of precum already squeezed from the impressively wide tip. It begged his tongue to inch forwards and lash at the urethra, to lap down any fluids it leaked.
Malayar shook his head, the zebra remained defiant still. "Make me!"
She scoffed. "Why didn't you just say so?"
"Huh- mmph!"
Without warning the mare thrust her hips towards him, the meaty club of her cock pushed into his lips; the zebra's surprise meaning it pushed past his teeth also. The full weight of her cock pushed down on his tongue, her taste overpowering against his taste buds. The dense flavour was uniquely sweet, lacking any of the salt of more conventional pre, no doubt the effects of the curse he surmised. She threw her head back to moan as the tip of her dick was forcefully pushed down his mouth, bumping the back of his unprepared throat, the thick organ already putting considerable strain on his masculine jaw. Malayar tried to pull free and slip the cock from his mouth, gagging, but she was too forceful, pushing whenever there was a threat to the number of inches lodged within him being lessened. He suspected that her demanding candour wasn’t just an effect of the curse. He felt her hefty sack pressing down onto chest, the large orbs warm and scarily heavy with seed.
“Is your mouth small or is my cock too big, which is it, d’ya think?” she asked, knowing full well he couldn’t be able to speak. His stripes cheeks were bulged out obscenely with her cock, frantically breathing through his nostrils for precious yet thin air as she haphazardly made a pussy out of his maw. Her marecock slid in and out of his mouth at a sluggish pace, forcing the stallion to taste her freshly formed rod whilst force-feeding him more of her member every time. Her paradoxically masculine taste was extremely strong, her emissions prompting an unwanted reaction from his body. His cock started to swell once more, even harder and erect than before. The longer she fucked his throat, the mere act of breathing became an ordeal, her permeating aroma thick and congesting his nostrils. He grew more and more emasculated by the second as he was forced to fellate the massive rod, his tongue made to lick and then swallow down her pre, lest her choke or even drown from the thick clear stream of the ambrosia-like fluid; each fat droplet on his tongue making him shiver with bliss. “F-fuck, I love your mouth. Were you born to suck dick or what?”
The zebra couldn’t speak of course, not with a mouth full of cock. His plump lips forcibly formed a tight seal around the rod, trying to stop more of her inches from sliding down his tight gullet. It was a futile effort of course. It only encouraged her more. Her hooves held his head in place, forcing him to swallow every fat inch of her gargantuan meat on every thrust. She lanced deeper and deeper, even despite the tears which began to well in the zebra’s eyes. His throat felt exquisite stretched around her obese girth, its attempt to push her out only drew more of her length inside. She continued to with no spared enthusiasm, force-fed him her virile column, the zebra feeling every single vein that webbed across her organ. She finally stopped after what felt like an eternity, granting him reprieve at her medial ring. He could feel every inch of her member throb inside of him, the organ pumping pre directly into his stomach. By this point the zebra’s black and white face was blue and red, feeling light-headed from the lack of air. In a single motion, she withdrew her sex-column from his throat, the zebra’s spluttering and gasping doing nothing to deter the mare’s eagerness.
Unfortunately, this respite was short lived. Just as he took a breath Daring began a barrage with her hips, half her fat mast disappearing down the zebra’s throat in one deliberate jut. She used his throat now like one would use a cunt, her cum plunger fucking the zebra’s maw with relentless abandon. Each time she withdrew just enough to let him breathe but she offered him no more quarter than that. She was new to owning a cock yet she fucked his mouth pussy with a permeating familiarity. She knew how to use it and use it well. She lanced her large musky organ deep and with no real rhythm, just doing what made her feel good. The wet glurking and sloppy thrusts were the most delightful combination of sounds her ears had ever been treated to. Malayar could do nothing but choke and suck, unable to even writhe in discomfort beneath her. His own cock twitched uselessly, pleading for attention that Daring had no intent on giving. Her hips moved on their own now, allowing Daring to bask in the heavenly feel of the zebra’s throat. The outline of her stallionhood could be seen through the zebra’s gullet, shaping itself perfectly around the ramming intruder...
Daring continued to fuck his throat until the pleasure mounted, escalating to a terrifying new zenith for the mare. She was barely able to stop herself unloading down his gullet, her body reluctant to obey her command as she slid her meat free of the zebra’s trap with a pleasured grunt. She laid the wet, throbbing cock was across his face. The act was one of degradation but also a necessity, remaining completely still whilst she panted. Malayar meanwhile could feel her pulse across his cheek, the glistening rod leaving a sloppy mark to mat down his fur. He was wide-eyed at the sight of, forced again to confront its size as she rubbed it across his face. The idea that all of it was within his mouth prompted him to release a shuddering breath. He could tell by the fervour of its twitches that she was close to exploding all over his face. Maybe all it would take is a singular lick, one he was tempted to give...
“Methinks somepony is a size-queen,” Daring stated directly, the zebra unable to tear his eyes away from the fat length laid across his face. "You want it, don't you?"
“N-no,” he replied, meek, the weight of her erection filling him with a sense of longing. He was lying to himself. He wanted it. He wanted it so much. He couldn’t pin why all of a sudden, it was as though he was infected with lust. “Maybe a l-little...”
She smirked. “Then I guess I should use this thing as the maker intended. Impregnating a slut,” she asserted again, her cock throbbing happily at the idea, the weight of it landing on his face prompting him to quiver with an obscene delight.
She got off him, the cock smacking against her belly with every step she took to his tightened hind legs, hiding himself like a chaste mare, his own dick continued to convulse and twitch against his belly. He gasped when she gripped him, roughly turned him on his stomach and raising his delectable bouncing derrière, the licking her lips at the sight.
Malayar steeled his features, flagging his tail and revealing his tight, puffy backdoor to the insatiable mare. She gave his pert rump a few tender strokes, enjoying the feel of the stallion's rather feminine plot, giving it a deft smack and watching with delight as it jiggled. It was a plump peach, and the mare wanted to sink her teeth into it. Malayar knew she was still rock hard, even with his cheek in the dirt. The trembling mast throbbed with arousal, smacking against her stomach with thick meaty slaps; precum continuing to dribble from the head of her cock in a viscous clear stream.
"I want to hear your whorish moans," she spoke, continuing to spare no derision. Malayar nodded pitifully, humouring her base demand. When he did so I felt his asshole twitch, her tongue sloppily running up his taint before tracing the outline of his tight ring, the zebra allowing a gasp to leave his throat. Daring felt her wings twitch at the sound of him mewling, her dancing muscle daring to prod at the zebra's back entrance, the stallion's flushed cheeks letting the pegasus know that this particular stallion was born to be bred. She hoped now that he was succumbing, that perhaps the idea of becoming a striped cocksleeve was beginning to sound appealing. She certainly thought it was, the idea of ploughing her fertile seed into his rectum made her cock twitch and throb against her belly, her coat matted down with her own pre and the zebra's spittle. She gave the zebra's aching balls a few teasing licks, her tongue's tip running over the full black eggs until they glistened once more with the pegasi's spittle. Beneath him, the zebra's slender black member continued to pulsate with neediness, neglected and pissing out pre from the unflared crown.
"P-please," he began, tone pleading.
"'Please', what?" she sought clarification for that she already knew the answer. She saw the zebra's delectable hole twitch with want, his shaft tremble, his balls clench. "Does the little mare want to be fucked like the buttslut she is, huh?"
Malayar winced. Her emasculating remarks were having an unintended effect on him. Her comments were accompanied by a blush from him, a delighted shiver from his body. "Y-yes," he replied, damning himself for it.
"What does the little cocksleeve want? Need?"
"I want..." he started before trailing off, steeling his jaw. He was understandably reluctant about acquiescing, even if his body was enthused at the prospect. His heart raced, his thighs trembled, his mast throbbed, needy.
"Want what? What is it you want?" Daring asked in coo, her wings standing at attention and flapping to mount the prone zebra. Although she was mostly light - as was expected of a nubile pegasus such as she - her new organ added a new, noticeably hefty mass to her form. Malayar released a gasp when she prodded her tool against his taint, the massive organ was so close to his hole the zebra almost let out an instinctive moan, the pleasured call lost in his throat.
"Your b-big dick," he answered bluntly, short of breath. He looked back over his shoulder at the mare, a needy, lustful look in his eye. "I want you to fuck me."
"I'm going to need more encouragement than that," she cheeped, poking at the hole, which was about ready to give in to her engorged pillar.
He groaned, desperate, unable to push against her with his legs parted so far. "P-plough me into the dirt. F-fuck me like a common w-whore," he continued, his tongue foreign to such obscene language, his hole twitching like a needy cunt. "Plant your fat flag inside of me and claim my a-ass with your seed."
"You want me to paint your bowels, slut?" she asked, easing her hips forwards, the tip of her turgid cum cannon threatening to slip into the zebra's eager and twitching cock holster.
He nodded, lips pursed, the idea almost enough to prompt a moan from his slutty mouth. "Please. Defile it."
At his request, Daring pushed her spit slicken stalk into his fat striped ass. The plump ring enveloped her rod with unsurprising ease, swallowing the first inch and helmet of her fat girth with a tight, warm embrace. Daring grunted, Malayar mewled like a filly. Daring's cock slid inside of his cavity with the aid of spittle and pre, the unflared crown grazed harshly against his prostate, his cock smacking against stomach as he moaned. She drove her erection even deeper inside of him, his anal canal practically sucking her in. Daring had never experienced a pleasure such as this before she already considered herself a fan, addicted even, to the zebra's invitingly tight ponut. She continued to push her trembling hips with ease until half her massive unit had vanished within, the fainted of bulges pushing out from the zebra's belly. Much like she said, he moaned, Although she wasn't even close to being satisfied. Inch by laborious inch, she continued to push, applying more and more weight until her plump medial ring spread apart the zebra's taxed hole even further apart. He felt like he was being torn asunder, yet it hurt so good. He started to push against her, wanting to feel her magnificent cock hilt inside of him. Needless to say, Daring was pleased by his enthusiasm and rewarded him by giving the horny zebra exactly what he wanted.
"Ahhh!" he screamed in ecstasy, his tailhole spasming around the fully embedded glory of Daring's shaft. He felt like a puppet with how deeply her thickness was buried within in, the throbbing monster twitching in tune with the mare's racing pulse. He allowed himself to give in, pushing against her. She had brutally struck a deep part of him never before touched, and he practically melted in ecstasy.
"D-damn, you're snug," she remarked beside his ear, her length twitching in the deepest part of his bowels. "I can't wait you paint your insides white," she added with a passionate growl, struggling to withdraw even an inch of her turgid meat. The clenching hole refused to let her go free, the zebra's soft plump ass grinding back against her hips. It might have been the effect of the curse, but Malayar already felt the pain of such a huge intruder dulled, pleasing only the pleasurable sensation of her colossal girth to remain. "I'm not gonna go gentle," she warned, finally sliding her cock out past the medial ring, giving her just enough inches to work with.
"Use me," was his reply, relaxing his plugged tail hole around the revere-worthy erection.
Without another word uttered she chomped down on his ear, ramming her pole inside of him to the hilt. He opened his mouth to scream, moan or groan. It was a fruitless endeavour. They all became lodged in his throat, coming out instead zebra releasing a breathless gasp from his muzzle. Daring spared no time in between unsheathing herself and slamming back in those few freed inches with a pleasured grunt. The pegasus shivered at the convulsion of the zebra’s hole. He tried to constrict around her, keyword ‘try’, his plothole unable to fully accommodate her massive girth, which led to the confusingly pleasurable spasms. She suspected that if her hips remained idle, Malayar would be content to squeeze and milk her completely dry with just makeshift pussy. Daring didn’t give him the chance to however, although not out of want. Her body was quick to adopt a brutal and merciless rhythm, abusing his poor sphincter with unceasing thrusts, the gyrations of her hips automatic and deep. Malayar’s eyes were rolled back by the time of her thrusting, registering only pleasure and the sound of her fat grapefruit-sized sack smacking against his taint, the giant eggs hefty with roiling with unspent cum.
“Rnng!” Malayar heaved, feeling her hoof curl under him, wrapping around his aching prick. She stroked in tandem to her thrusts, overloading his brain with endorphins. His legs quivered, threatening to give way as his black cock flared in her grip, spewing out several thick ropes, adding more white stripes to his barrel. He hissed when Daring continued her lancing penile strides, continuing to pump his dick despite its fresh expulsion of cum. It was a miracle he lasted as long as he did, his jizz creating a wax-like pool on the jungle floor, Daring’s massaging hoof forcing out more drops of his seed until it became only a slight trickle; her own shaft continued to chase ecstasy in the zebra’s taut hole with deep breeding thrusts. The zebra’s legs gave out, falling under Daring’s weight, her hips unable to stop. The seconds dragged on, the pleasure now a slow, torturous burn that affected every inch of his body as he underwent his refractory period. Daring felt something similar rise within her, an unfamiliar knot in her abdomen as her shaft hardened and swelled, snorting from the nostrils like a bull in rut as her heavy balls continued to slap with vigour against the zebra’s thoroughly abused rectum.
“I’m – hah – cumming!” she moaned, releasing his ear from between her teeth. “I’m gonna fill you up,” she cooed a final time, before slamming herself to the hilt, her wings splaying out as her cock flaring deep within his bowels as she erupted with cum; stretching him so far apart he thought he was literally break in two. The warm explosion of splooge acted true to the mare’s word, plastering his insides white before the pressure mounted and it spurted from out his stuffed ponut with an undignified squelch, trickling from the zebra’s used hole in a seemingly endless torrent, the mare’s cum tanks flexing with each strong penile flex, the contents of her balls seemingly unending. Rope after rope of thick, viscous and warm seed filled up every space of his cavity, the zebra beginning to feel a weight in his belly as the tirade of cum seemed never to stop.
Malayar groaned. “S-stop,” he pleaded, unsure of who or what it was directed towards. It could have been the continuous throb of pleasure that emanated from the mare’s spewing cock, the fact her dick continued to spew seed into his rectum or the fact Daring’s hips began to gently move back and forth as she came, afraid that she was readying herself for another round of relentless buttfucking. He realised he was clear-headed, reluctant once more. He should have been begging her for more yet he wasn’t... The curse! Just as it momentarily lapsed in Daring after she came, it lapsed in him too. This was his chance!
“And why should I?” Daring replied, speaking directly into his ear.
He looked back at her, forcing a sensual grin. “It’s my turn.”
“Oh?” Daring stopped her gyrations, halting the revving of her arousal. “You finally ready to step up and take me like a stallion?”
He nodded, reluctant. “Yeah. I want to… totally get all in your lady parts.”
“Great,” she started, jubilant. “I’ll untie you. I want a rough fuck, so don’t be shy with your hooves,” she finished with a wink, climbing off the zebra, her penis not still painfully rigid.
“Yeah, I’m gonna use my hooves alright...” he trailed off, wearing a self-satisfied smirk.
Flipped onto his back, she reached down, untying the last of his bonds with her teeth before spitting them out onto the ground beside him. “Okay, I’m ready if you are-”
Thwack!
Daring dropped on top of him without finishing her sentence. The zebra, without giving her time to finish, summoned all of his pent up anger for the mare into a singular strike destined for her cheek. He felt exhilarated right after, freed and able to vent in the best possible way at that moment… it was short-lived.
“I punched Daring Do... I punched Daring Do!” he panicked, giving her a cursory inspection. He could feel her rise and fall on his chest, clearly still breathing. He had never hit anyone before, but he was glad to know he wasn’t possessing of a lethal punch.
He rolled her off of him, wincing at seeing her half-erect phallus against her stomach before making his way to the artefact. He was still struck with disbelief that he had that thing inside of him. He rooted around in the bramble for the golden hardness before yanking it out, the artefact emitting a low blue glow that he surmised was its state of recharge. He didn’t know what to do with it. Daring had told him to touch it and that was all, but it could explode into light again and inflict him with ravenous lust. He had to dispose of it once and for all! He considered briefly tossing it into the jungle, never to be found again. However, worry stayed his hoof from doing that particular action. The last thing he wanted was for some beast to get afflicted. He shivered at the thought of a horny rampaging manticore. But he had to act quickly lest it consumed him or Daring again.
He saw that the fire still burned. Not as strong as it did before but the flame still danced on the log. His expression became pained, realisation what he must do. Without a second thought, he simply tossed the artefact onto the fire, the solid gold idol beginning to melt immediately in the incandescent flame. The blue light it emitted died along with its integrity. He watched until his greatest and only discovery became nothing more than a few loose specks of gold. He fell to his hindquarters, suddenly overcome with exhaustion but still finding himself letting out a relieved exhale. It was over.
He glanced over to Daring. His eyebrow piqued. “Why is it still attached to her?”
Daring stood at the end of the jungle pier. The waters of the great river were a murky light shade of brown, unable to see her own stoic expression in the water below. Still, the gentle sway of the water made for a more appealing sight than that of the zebra next to her, his face contorted into an apologetic simper.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t know it’d do that...”
“I only told you to touch it. Nothing more, nothing less,” she interrupted with a cold tone of voice, not deigning to look at him. She was dressed in her usual attire, trying to not make her tail flick with the irritation she felt for the young zebra.
Malayar winced. “I thought-”
“You thought wrong!” she snapped, looking at him with a glare. He recoiled, shrinking under her angry gaze, his jaw flapping uselessly as he was lost on what to reply with. She sighed, feeling pity. She rubbed the side of her head, offering a remorseful look. “Sorry. You were only following your gut. I’d be a hypocrite if I blamed you for doing that.”
He pursed his lips together, glancing to her flanks and then back at her. “Are you going to be fine with… both?”
She gave a weary sigh, shrugging. “I don’t see why not. But I don’t know if you noticed, but everything about my new additions are on the massive side,” she stressed with some distaste, the zebra wincing, having had the intimate displeasure at being at her new member’s receiving end. She looked back out to the murky river. “It’ll certainly make leaping and bounding harder. If word gets out I have both, then I’ll be stigmatised now doubt. It might also be a tad harder to squeeze into tight paces now...”
“And it’s difficult enough trying to squeeze it into ponies,” he quipped, trying to lighten her mood at his expense. His plot was still absurdly sore after last night’s romp. “At least it opens up a ton of possibilities concerning your love life.”
She smirked, giving him a slight grin. “I suppose that counts as a silver lining.”
They shared a smile before both sets of eyes were then drawn to the sound of a bullhorn, a large ship which coughed smoke out a large red chimney came gently paddling down the river.
“That’s your ride,” the zebra stated, giving a slight frown.
Daring furrowed her brows, turning to face him with a curious look. “It could be our ride? At least, if you want it to be.”
He blinked, confused by her proposition. “What do you mean?”
“Considering stuck me with a cock and balls, but I stole your discovery right out from under you, I’d say we’re even,” she explained, the striped stallion’s brows lowering. “But… you made it through that temple, be it through blind luck or you being you. I say we could do a lot of good together. What do you say?”
The zebra felt pulled in by her smile. There were some doubts, however working alongside one of the most renowned archaeologists in the world seemed like a far more lucrative career than that of the unappreciative university. Just as the ship pulled up the pier, he stretched out his hoof, preparing it for a shake. “I like the sound of that. I accept,” he nodded, before giving her a coy look. “I want my name on the next book you write.”
She chortled, meeting his hoof, shaking it. “Deal!”
Author's Note
Where will Malayar end up next?
It's up to the original commissioner. 
