Author's Note
This was written for day eight of Kinktober.
Content Warning! The sex is completely consensual. Zephyr agrees to that 100%, agreed to it long before any dubious drugging occurs. And dubious drugging does occur, along with the discussion of dubious breeding laws that are put in place.
((Beta'd by a good friend~))
Don’t Get Caught
Half Baked Apple takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. Nerves that have his hands shaking and chest heaving. Oh, Celestia, he’s breaking the law. No, worse, he’s disobeying Granny! He takes another deep breath, holds it in until it feels like his chest is about to explode, and lets it out slowly. Carefully, he mixes the herbs together. He can’t cook. Not yet, he’s gonna learn, signed up for classes to get better. Can’t cook so, he had to get the herbs - if that’s even the right word for what they are - that dissolve in liquid. Had to go to different stores, in different towns where no one knew him. The mixture is known by the less savory folk as the Bastard Maker. Fitting, if crude. Slowly he mixes it into his apple juice. It’s not breeding, he tells himself firmly. It’s not. It’s just no strings attached sex. He picks up the glass and raises it like he’s toasting someone.
The grin on his face as he watches the juice swirl is sad. He wants to breed. More than anything on this planet. But Granny and the other elders said that… that, despite his almost unnaturally high fertility, that his… handicap made him unsuitable for breeding. That the Stables and safe breeding would always be closed off to him. His grip on the glass tightens for a second. He wants an egg inside him, growing and incubating.
He brings the cup up to his lips and tilts his head back. It’s not illegal if it’s an accident. The juice is surprisingly thick and dry feeling as he drinks it. Goes down like a slow motion fall, scraping and drying out his throat. Half Baked closes his eyes, draining every last drop, refusing to stop halfway or gag. It’s not illegal if you don’t get caught in the act.
He doesn’t cry as he grabs the other half of the herbs. The half that Zephyr Breeze needs to ingest if Half Baked is to have any chance at having a child. How he’s going to get it in the Pegasus class, Half Baked isn’t sure. It’s not illegal.
Zephyr Breeze is three beers in, working on his fourth beer, when he spots his date for the night.
“Hope you don’t mind,” he says lifting up his beer with a winning smile. If his sister were here she’d tut and shake her head. So rude, she’d say in that soft, unhappy voice of hers. She doesn’t approve of his lifestyle. An insult to all the Pegasus class to constantly jump into bed with any willing body. Tempting fate, that’s what she says all the time. Just begging for an accidental breeding.
The chair across from him moves, drawing him out of his thoughts. His newest date, found on Pastr, is Half Baked Apple. A member of one of Equestria’s biggest families. The older man - an Earthen class - is about the same age as his sister but Zephyr isn’t giving that much thought, could be hot. Would be fucking smoking if it wasn’t for the bucked teeth that just slightly poked out from plump lips. Half Baked has two-toned red hair, wild and, Luna, does Zephyr want to see what it’s going to feel like in his hands as he’s pounding into the older man. And those green eyes? They could drive even the straightest man to bend just a little bit. At least in thought. But those buck teeth!
“Don’ mind t’all. At least, so long as you got me a beer too,” Half Baked says with a playful tilt to his words. He’s not wearing his hat, Zephyr notices distantly as he laughs. Maybe he can look past the teeth for the night. He stands, wings stretching out. Oh, that hungry look is an ego booster!
“I didn’t. Stay here and I’ll get you one. And maybe some Cauliwings?”
Green eyes go from undressing him to looking at him in wonder at those words. Like Half Baked has never had a date offer to buy him food. Which does uncomfortable things to his stomach.
“Golly, tha’ would be swell!”
Zephyr winks cheekily.
“Be right back then, darling.”
He orders the beer and the wings, leaning on the bar and smiling at the barkeep. She isn’t interested in him, only into women and Unicorn class women at that, but she plays along with him on slow nights.
“Break a wing,” she tells him when the wings are warm and ready to be eaten. The salute he gives her, using his wings no less, is snappy and playful. Half Baked is waiting for him. Small frame scrunched up. His eyes darting to the beer Zephyr left behind to right back in front of him.
“You didn’t spit in it, did you?”
“Wha’? Course not!”
It wouldn’t be the first time. He has a habit of breaking hearts with his insistence of staying not only single but childless. He has zero interest in going to a Stable and breeding. His beer tastes funny when he takes a big swig of it, but he just thinks it’s maybe the other three finally kicking in.
The music picks up, the food is warm and Half Baked is good company. Maybe after this is all said and done they can stay in touch? Zephyr grins, the beer is buzzing in his system and work-calloused hands are pulling on sensitive wings.
“Ya dance swell,” Half Baked says, has to shout to be heard over thumping music. His ass is grinding against Zephyr’s clothing covered sheathe. Air is hot and Zephyr has a tight grip on delicate hips. As an Earthen class, Half Baked could break him into pieces with a single kick - which is fucking hot - but he feels so small.
“Why don’t we take this up to my room?”
He leans in close, stubbled cheek pressing against a smooth one. A blush darkens yellow-orange fur and Half Baked nods eagerly.
Between one blink and another, they go from being on the dance floor to Zephyr’s room. It’s not much, small and simple, more like a partitioned off attic but it’s his. The bucked teeth make it trickier to kiss, more angling than Zephyr is used to. But, Luna in her moon crater, Half Baked’s hair is soft and when he pulls on it the older man moans. It makes his dick twitch and his wings puff up.
“Gonna fuck me? Need you ta fuck me, Zep. Please.”
Hands are caressing his wings. Deft fingers sinking into the feathers and digging into knots. His dick starts to push out of his sheathe, straining against his pants. They walk until knees meet bed and they fall down on soft blankets. Zephyr thrusts, grinds against Half Baked who opens his legs invitingly.
“Gonna fuck you, darling. Gonna fuck you hard and fast. You want that, don’t you? Want me inside you?”
“Yes! Don’t even have to take off yer pants.”
“Ooo, kinky! I likey, darling.”
Half Baked isn’t wearing pants. At least, not jeans or slacks or anything that Zephyr would count as pants. They're skin-tight tights like what girls wear under their skirts. They do nothing to hide the growing stains showing the Earthen class’s interest in what Zephyr Breeze is about to do to him.
When finally released from the tights, Half Baked’s dick is a thing of beauty. Long and curved, it begs for a kiss. And Zephyr has never been one to ignore begging.
“Zephyr!”
“Ssssh.”
Shirt thrown over his shoulder and pants wiggled partially down, Zephyr peppers strong thighs with kisses. With nips that cause both dicks to jump and twitch. Half Baked is leaking from both ends. If he wasn’t so intent on bringing Half Baked to blubbering ecstasy he would have been worried about the sheer amount of slick pouring out of Half Baked. But at the moment? All he can think of is burying his dick inside the Earthen class. Thankfully, for both of them, Zephyr has the mind to put aside just thrusting in. Instead, he slowly inserts two fingers inside of Half Baked.
Bone breaking legs rest on his shoulders as he works the redhead open. Enjoying the slick and slide and the friction. Half Baked has his head thrown back, noises pouring out like steam from a kettle… only less high pitched.
“Jus’ fuck me. Please, Zep. Please. Fuck me-eeee.”
He thrusts in, hard and fast, until Half Baked’s ass is resting against his sheathe. The screech of pleasure is drawn out and hands claw at his bedsheets. He’s barely had time to adjust to the warmth before Half Baked is urging him to move. Begging him to move. Clenching around him.
His hold on Half Baked’s hips is bruising and he folds them near in two as he pounds away. It's hard. It's brutal. It's like nothing he’s ever done before but, the Sisters, it feels divine. He’s pulling back as far as he can and driving back in. By the keening screams of ecstasy that he’s getting in return he's doing good on that end too.
Then something begins to build at the base of his dick. Bulbous and painful. He flips Half Baked over into his knees. The thrusts becoming more frantic as Zephyr struggles to understand what is happening.
He’s heard about it of course. Health class pounded into their heads like he's pounding into Half Baked. It's an egg. More than one if the burning is any indication. Tears build up in his eyes. He doesn't want this. But he can't stop. He literally can't, if he does the egg will stay there and rot. Rot quicker than he can fly to a hospital.
“Zeeeeep,” Half Baked is still keening. Rocking into each desperate thrust. Oh, Celestia. Oh, Luna. He can't speak up. Can't warn Half Baked about what is happening. He can just thrust up, tense as he comes hard. Egg after egg flows through his dick, stretching it. Celestia, he can only imagine how it must feel to Half Baked. If the egg latches on it will absorb DNA from Half Baked, from Zephyr. Will be fertilized and grow until Half Baked has to push it out which is excruciatingly painful.
He's spent, panting, resting on Half Baked’s back when he feels his dick get hard again. Somehow, he winds up on his back, Half Baked bouncing up and down on him. He enjoys it. Enjoys the friction. The sting of his dick expanding and more eggs get ready to be expelled. He’s not sure how long he lays there, hands on Half Baked’s hips as he rides Zephyr climax after climax. Pearly white come staining both of those stomachs and Zephyr's chest. After one particularly hard climax, Half Baked collapses onto Zephyr's chest. They're both panting.
Finally, Zephyr lets the tears fall. He runs his hands through Half Baked’s hair.
“I’m so sorry, darling. So sorry. I… I didn't… I never… I’m so sorry,” he cries. Half Baked looks panicked. Mouth parted in a surprised look.
“It's… It's o-”
“It's not okay! I could… You could be pregnant! I… Celestia, it's my worst nightmare.”
Half Baked sits up and Zephyr hates how his dick tries to stand at attention. Still, work-tough hands rub along his cheeks.
“We don't know tha’ any took. And if they did… If they did, I don’ mind goin’ it alone. Don’ cry, Zep. Oh please, don’ cry. It's gonna be okay. I promise. No matta what.”
Half Baked collapses against his door. He’s crying, big fat ugly tears that make it hard to see. He feels gross, disgusting, the lowest filth on the planet. He didn’t know. He didn’t know how much the thought of having a child upset Zephyr. If he had… if he had, he wouldn’t have picked Zephyr. His stomach rolls. Like a barrel in the ocean, it spins and rolls and tips over. He rushes to the bathroom. The image of Zephyr’s pale blue-green furred face looking so distraught will haunt his memories. But…
He presses a hand to his stomach, sobs once, twice and prays. He knows that it's horrible, but he hopes it worked. He hopes he’s pregnant. He wants to be a dam. Wants to lay an egg and make a nest and watch his child grow and hatch. He wants it so bad and he hates himself for it.
Author's Note
This happens at the same time as the first chapter just in a different place. Chapter contains M/M and oviposition
In Gleaming Halls
The entryway is cold. Uninviting and sterile. Caramel isn’t sure how the government came to believe that forcing hopeful couples into this building, or any building like it, was healthy. It makes his fur crawl; what with the stainless steel walls and the glistening floors. Makes him feel like a subject under a microscope.
‘Please input your name and the name of your breeding partner.’
The mechanic voice is chirpy, vibrant and echoing in the stark halls. With trembling hands, Caramel does as he is told. Caramel has no family to dispute the match, to argue with the fact that he and Big Mac are only engaged and not married and yet they are already trying for an egg. And Big Mac said that Granny Smith is okay with it, that she’s happy that Big Mac found someone.
‘Caramel, Earthen class F, if that is you please respond.’
Class F. He hates that designation. He’s not fragile. He’s smaller than Big Mac yes, he’s even smaller than other Unicorn class men but he isn’t fragile. Still, he hits the ‘yes’ button as prompted, despite his hatred of the classification.
‘Welcome Caramel, Big Mac is waiting for you in suite 5A. We hope that your breeding is successful.’
He shudders at the happy mechanical words. Large double doors glide open, colder air rushing out to greet him like an old friend. Please let the suite be warmer, he thinks as he steps onto the elevator at the end of the long hall. There were doors all the way down, various lights on above the jambs. He tries to ignore the fact that a couple is behind each door, attempting to do what he is about to do.
The trip up to the fifth floor isn’t a long one and the music that plays in the metal death box isn’t the type that can drive a person mad. And when the elevator slows to a stop and the door slides open he’s able to step out of it. It’s when he reaches that very first door, a bright and cheery yellow like his fur, that his stomach starts to roll. His hand shakes as he places it on the pad. It chimes, a single bright note, and the light above the door changes from white to green. With a deep breath, he enters the suite.
The suite is warm. And not just in the fact that it is physically warmer than the very cold halls. The walls are still stainless steel, bright under the drapes and other things hanging on the walls. The floors are still glistening tile but there are thick rugs on them. He takes another step in, the door closing behind. Big Mac is sitting at the table, the suite is more like a loft; the front room and kitchen and dining room mashed into one with a separate bathroom. With sure steps, surer than he actual feels, he walks over to his fiance, running his hands through short golden blond hair. Green eyes flick up to glance at him before going back to the table.
“Big Mac? What’s wrong?”
“Apparently, Apple Strudel wanted to make sure an heir was conceived tonight.”
He gestures at the table. There are four little cups of pills sitting on the wooden surface. There should only be two. One for him and one for Big Mac. But there are four. There are four. Big Mac must have sent them away. The red-furred male stands, towering over Caramel. His arms are thick and his legs strong.
“You sent them away.
“Eyup.”
“Celestia, I love you so much. Others would have loved the chance to have three lovers. But not you, all mine.”
Big Mac’s fur darkens, ducking his head. Caramel grins, nuzzlings all he can reach.
“I can’t wait to have your big strong cock in me. You’re so strong, bet you could take me right here,” he continues. He looks at those cups, there are multiple pills. He knows that one is an aphrodisiac, nows that it’s the tiny one he’s planning on tossing as soon as he gets Big Mac comfortable again. Reaching up he drags Big Mac down for a kiss. Words of praise are whispered between kisses, soft and sweet.
Pills are taken and clothes are shed. Caramel runs his hands down red-furred thighs.
“You’re so strong. Honest and caring.”
He kisses those thighs, working his way up, Licking a long stripe up the crease. Nips at hip bones. Big Mac’s sheathe is bulging, no longer flat like a toy. He ignores that for now.
“I’ve seen you literal kick down a dead tree, rip its stump from the ground like you were pulling a weed,” his own dick twitches at those words, “and yet I’ve also seen you handle a premie farm animals with such gentleness.”
Kissing up the toned stomach to lap at perked up nipples, Caramel grinds down.
“You don’t speak often, but when you do? It’s with intelligence. They look at you, Earthen class, lives out on the rolling farms, Class E. They think you’re dumb but you aren’t.”
Big Mac moans, yanking Caramel up for a bruising kiss. Hands grip his hips, fingers digging in and dragging down. A thick dick is poking out, head leaking.
“People think terrible things about us. But… none of that matters. What matters is this. Us. The child or children that we are going to have. The eggs you’re going to put in m-”
They’re flipped, he’s on his back and Big Mac is inside him. It burns, it burns but his body is opening open up. It doesn’t make it hurt less, of course, but it means it won’t hurt more. He keeps one hand on Big Mac’s cheeks and the other grips him closer. Big Mac is pounding into. Oh, Luna, is he pounding into Caramel.
The thrusting gets desperate, something is growing. And then Big Mac is coming. He can feel the eggs being pushed into him, collecting and sitting in him. They’re big but until fertilized they are flexible, able to squeeze up into his fertilization tube. At least, that’s what all the teachers say. He doesn’t care because the feeling? The weight? It makes Caramel come hard. Big Mac kisses his lips, his cheeks, his neck. Nipping and sucking. Dick already getting hard again.
“Yes, breed me until we get pregnant. I want to carry your egg. I want to see tucking blankets around it. I want to hear you sing to our child.”
His hand scratches down, clawing and digging, Big Mac is making noises that do things to Caramel. It’s an erotic duet that they are making, loud and messy and them. They couple over and over, switching positions. Small breaks are had, meals eaten and stomachs rubbed. Caramel can’t wait to be a dam.
