Author's Note

Welcome to chapter 2! And the other side of the proverbial coin. Thanks to all who joined the story! Chapter contains: Curse-aroused stallion with a surprise and intense interest in a masturbating griffon eagless.

Sorry for the slow build, but don’t worry—the action begins in earnest with tomorrow’s chapter!

Postal Passions: 2 - Certified Male

It had been an early night for Certified Mail, the third-shift manager of the Ponyville Post Office.

Having decided long before then that he was too old for foal games and candy, he’d retired early after the office Nightmare Night party, knowing he’d have to show up early the next morning to supervise the sorting of the next day’s mail and receive pre-dawn deliveries from other non-postal courier services.

Discarding his cardboard costume which a coworker’s foals had made for him and crawling into bed, the middle-aged unicorn stallion had been rousted not long after midnight by a loud clap of thunder, which rattled his windows. Confused and unable to sleep—why hadn’t it been scheduled? Was it wild weather off the Everfree the Ponyville weather teams had failed to stop because they were lying drunk on a cloud?—he’d decided to head for the Post Office early, both to beat the storm in and to get a head start on his duties, hoping he could finish them and then get a few winks in his office after the storm passed.

A unicorn stallion and a longtime bachelor—an oddity in a culture and community where the skewed gender ratios meant available males tended to be snapped up quickly—he’d headed off through the partygoers collecting in pubs to continue the festivities, though at one point he’d heard some claims of Timberwolf howls coming from Town Hall.

He rolled his eyes at that—this is why I don’t drink alcohol or whatever the hay that special reserve cider of AJ’s is made of! he thought in some derision as he observed a drunken mare slobbering over a stallion not of her herd while her herdmates fumed.

And THAT is why I never married! he further observed, finding he liked his solitude and being able to do whatever he wanted, when he wanted, having few friends and preferring it that way. Guess I’m just not a pony person. Besides, no mare ever did it for me anyway…

He’d nearly made it to the Post Office by the time the rain was ready to fall; the thunder that preceded it quickly clearing the streets of passersby. The third mail shift was already present, sorting and prepping the next day’s mail deliveries; among other things they were expecting a single courier from the Griffon Express to arrive before dawn, meaning that their resident G-E liaison, Owlia Accipiter, would need to be present to receive him.

At least I can always count on her! he granted somewhat grudgingly with his thoughts, which was more than he could say for some of his equine subordinates. Though leery of her at first—like so many other residents of Ponyville, his only experience with griffons before her had been Rainbow Dash’s bullying ex-friend Gilda, after all—he’d quickly learned that the eagless was not even remotely like her; warm and friendly despite her predatory appearance and penchant for meat-eating. She’d also been perfectly willing to pitch in on regular mail duties, helping to sort and even taking over for sick delivery mares and front desk agents when needed.

Fine, I’ll say it—as a worker, she’s a keeper, he further allowed as he passed under the overhang outside the post office, a particular loud clap of thunder startling him, sending a sharp shiver down his spine. He made it inside just as the first drops of rain began to fall. Not that I’d want to lay her or anything...

“Happy Nightmare Night, Certified Mail!” Postage Due called to him jovially to his mild annoyance. A middle-aged pegasus mare with a postage stamp cutie mark who enjoyed teasing him, she was still dressed in her barn owl outfit; the holiday night festivities were perfect for her given she slept during the day, allowing her to entertain her foals, send them off to bed, party with the adults, sober up, and then come to work. “Did you enjoy the costume my fillies made for you?” She winked.

He blushed at that, having been forced to wear an eagle outfit made of cardboard and colored with crayon; it had been decided by the foals of the Postal Worker parents during a tour of the facility the previous week that everypony who worked there should dress up as a different kind of bird. And worse, that the foals themselves should be allowed to make them.

“Immensely…” he gave her a halfhearted glower, even if they’d won best costume theme (out of sympathy given the crude costumes, he suspected) before he’d went to bed. “So did I miss anything after I left the festival?”

“Oh nothing much…” she began mildly. “There was a Timberwolf howl heard from Town Hall that had everyone a little freaked—nothing was found, so it was probably just one of Rainbow Dash’s and Pinkie Pie’s pranks. And oh yes—Fluttershy got drunk and went down on Princess Twilight’s horn right in front of everypony!” she said with a gleefully evil grin, causing his cheeks to instantly flush.

“I did not need to know that, Postage Due!” he told her angrily, knowing full well he was only encouraging her.

“Oh, you should have been there, C-M—she even got her off! Her horn eruption was spectacular! Princess Twilight certainly sparkled!” she laughed while all he could do was squirm, having a hard time purging the unwelcome image from his head.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked her, cursing the heat of his cheeks. It wasn’t because he found it at all titillating—he simply didn’t get off on the idea of two mares getting it on, and found the image of it cringeworthy. Then again, he’d never been able to figure out what he got off on, and he now rarely tried, finding even self-stimulation more frustrating than invigorating.

“Immensely.” She repeated his own word evenly with a wink, knowing full his proclivities, or lack of them, and taking great delight in teasing him for it. “And don’t worry, boss—inventory and mail sorting is well underway. We may be a little hungover tonight, but we’ll still be ready for the morning mail runs!” she promised with a glance over her shoulder at the backroom, where Priority Parcel, Courier Six, Express Shipment and Derpy Hooves were hard at work, though he found the latter’s help to be of questionable value at times.

“Good,” he grated out as he heard the rain start to fall hard enough to be heard against the roof. “We’re supposed to get a courier in from the Griffon Express late tonight, so we’ll need Owlia here. This weather may delay them, though. And speaking of which, what the hay are the weather teams playing at? It wasn’t supposed to rain tonight!” he groused as he took off his jacket and hung it on his office door hook with his magic, pulling on and buttoning up his postal worker manager’s vest in its place.

“You got me!” Postage Due shrugged as there was another bright flash followed by a sharp boom of thunder, causing them both to glance outside. “It blew up all of a sudden not long before midnight. My guess? They’re just trying to provide a little additional Nightmare Night backdrop. Have to admit, those purple and orange clouds were a pretty spooky sight.”

“A backdrop… by raining out the midnight part of the festival and driving everypony inside?” Certified Mail paraphrased derisively, suddenly wondering if the pub owners had bribed the weather teams to make the storm in order to increase their business, which he was certain was now booming as partygoers flocked to their establishments out of the rain.

Yet another reason I don’t like most ponies… “Whatever. And where’s Owlia, anyway?” he glanced over at the wall clock which showed it was five minutes past 1am; he hadn’t heard the chime of the big Town Hall clock over the storm. “She’s one of the most conscientious employees I’ve ever known. It’s not like her to be late.”

“Dunno. Maybe she’s waiting out the storm?” Postage Due suggested. “Couldn’t blame her if she was.”

He didn’t get a chance to answer before Derpy came out of the backroom, scanning around until her left eye finally locked on him. “Oh, uh… hey, Mister Mail! Sorry, but I really need to get home!”

Certified Mail raised an eyeridge at her. “Right at the start of shift?”

“You need to get home? Through that?” Postage Due added with a nod out the back door window, a look of concern on her face. “Derpy, it’s storming!”

“Exactly! And my poor Dinky is terrified of storms! I wouldn’t have left her alone if I knew it was coming! Please, Mister Mail! This is serious!” she said as a fresh strike of lightning rattled the floorboards around them. “She needs her mommy! I promise to be back later to help out!”

Certified Mail rubbed his eyes at that. Unlike most of his subordinates, who he politely tolerated for the most part, he did have a soft spot for Derpy, finding her a well-meaning mare who made some mistakes but ultimately wanted to do right by other ponies, including and especially her daughter, who she doted on.

Well, she’s a good enough mail carrier, but she’s usually as much hindrance as help at sorting duties anyway… he ultimately decided. “Fine. But come back after the storm passes!” he directed, to which she thanked him profusely, coming up to give him a sharp hug and kiss, to the postal manager’s great surprise and Postage Due’s great amusement—the skew-eyed mare also had no conception of boundaries or personal space. She then opened the back door and flew out it without closing it behind her, allowing some wind and mist in, which promptly blew in Certified Mail’s suddenly hot face as Postage Due giggled.

He sighed at that—no matter how many times he tried to tell her to close doors behind her, she rarely remembered, yet he still couldn’t work up much annoyance at her for it—his horn flaring to slam the door shut and lock it, though he had to push back harder than usual against the wind. The outside breeze was cool and yet the heat of his cheeks remained as he summoned a towel from his office to dry his fur, the skin beneath it beginning to mildly tingle.

“Oooo… an actual kiss from her! Was it good for you, boss?” Postage Due asked with a smirk.

“Who asked you?” he growled as he magically swatted at her with the towel, only to watch her dodge it with a giggle. He felt suddenly lightheaded, Derpy’s kiss strangely lingering on his cheek as he found his eyes suddenly tugged to Postage Due’s middle-aged flank. “And don’t you have some boxes of mail to sort?” He looked away sharply at that, trying to hide the still-growing heat of his cheeks.

“Yes, sir!” She threw him a mock salute before heading to her station; he turned to watch her leave and had to suddenly catch himself from reaching out for her with his unicorn aura, his eyes tracing the outline of her hindquarters before trying to get a glimpse of what lay beneath her tail.

“What the…” he blinked, then realized to his horror that he was quickly growing aroused; his rarely-seen stallionhood having poked free of its sheath and already hanging halfway to the ground, rapidly engorging and lengthening. “S-stop! Go away!” he told it as if it were subordinate he could instruct, only for it to quickly lose its remaining flaccidity and surge to full erection before his eyes, the warmth that had been present on his face rapidly overspreading his body, finding focus in his long-neglected loins.

“Urg…” He grimaced at the suddenly heavy feeling beneath his lower belly, feeling the breeze keenly as his newly erect organ swung freely beneath him, seemingly soaking up every air current in the room and only getting even harder for it. Desperate for it to go down, he tried an old trick he knew of counting and doing math in his head, focusing on the month-end numbers he had to report to headquarters within the next two days.

But his thoughts were clouded and quickly scattered by the increasing throbbing and tingling of his swollen stallionhood; no matter how hard he tried, his attention got quickly pulled back to his arousal and the best means to relieve it.

Which, to his horror, were his own subordinates in the other room.

He recoiled hard at that, the fantasies as unwelcome as they were insistent—they were not friends but mere underlings to him! He wanted nothing to do with any of them socially, let alone sexually!

He swallowed hard as the urges to relieve himself using them only grew more intense. He was alone for the moment, but with a backroom full of ponies to pass to reach the privacy of his office where he might be able to get himself off, the chances he could pass unnoticed in that state was nil. But would that be so bad? he suddenly wondered. I could just grab one of them and— he couldn’t finish the thought as his jaw fell open anew from what he’d been thinking.

They’re not attractive to me! I didn’t even like the mares I tried DATING! he reminded himself sharply of his many failed attempts from two decades earlier, having no idea where his desires were coming from or how to stop them. But the sudden throbbing of his malehood at the idea of burying himself to the hilt within one of them made clear his need to rut one of them was real.

Did… did Derpy’s kiss do it? Have I been THAT hard up? he asked himself frantically as his unicorn mating aura involuntarily activated and his horn glow began to take on a pinkish cast; an even more visible sign of his excitement that could be seen—and worse, could be sensed. Can’t let them see me like this… don’t DARE go in… what do I do?

“Hey boss! You coming?” Postage Due called back, causing him to start.

“C-coming?” he echoed in a shaky voice, his rigid shaft twitching hard at the accidental entendre and spurting a small amount of clear fluid onto the floor; he quickly grabbed at his towel to mop it up, only to fumble the fabric repeatedly; all his magic suddenly going into his strengthening mating aura, which was designed to excite and arouse potential mates.

“Yeah! If we’re shorthooved without Derpy and Owlia, then we need you back here as well!”

“I-I, uh…” he began to trot forward before he realized what was happening, his aura ready to all but fling the door open and bathe all his coworkers in the light of his brightly glowing horn. It took all his will to stop himself from doing so. Not good... need to get away… need to find another outlet… a better outlet…? the odd thought crossed his mind, not knowing what would be better for him—he’d learned long before that he just wasn’t into mares, and he certainly wasn’t into stallions!

So what’s left…? Nothing but my own hoof! I need a cold SHOWER! was all he could think of as a wave of panic started to overtake him, the latest thunderclap reminding him that one was, in fact, available in the pouring rain outside.

“I’ll, uh… be back in a minute!” he told them shakily, turning and awkwardly running towards the rear service entrance Derpy had departed through, his own erect organ slowing him down as it swung heavily from side to side.

“What do you mean you’ll—” Postage Due began, only to look up and see that Certified Mail had already departed out the back door into the raging storm.

* * * * *

The rain didn’t make things better for the Post Office Night shift manager. To his shock, it made them exponentially worse.

As the cool rain and wind soaked into him, he felt the heat of his loins only grow further; his desires rising to heights unimaginable to him before that, leaving him desperate for any form of relief. He stumbled down the alley hard, occasionally leaning on the brick wall for support, his horn brightly glowing, visible even through the wind-driven downpour. Unbidden, his aura reached for his rigid shaft and began stroking it of its own accord, finally forming a makeshift marehood he could thrust into in a trick he’d learned during his teenage years but hadn’t used in decades.

But even that brought no respite; no matter how pleasurable it felt—and even his own touch was far better than anything he’d experienced before—it just wasn’t enough! He needed a mare, and he needed one now!

“What… is… happening to me?” he asked again as he mentally discarded his construct and continued to stumble forward toward the thoroughfare in front of the Post Office, finding his eyes scanning the street desperately—and futilely, he was only too certain—for any option other than ponies, realizing with a stifled sob that in the state he was in, if he saw one first, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from forcibly taking them.

Though not a believer in higher powers, he sank hard against the side of the building just around the corner from the entrance and prayed to the Sun and Moon goddess for deliverance from his unholy urges—or failing that, a way to relieve them. He had no sooner done so than a half-strangled squawk of pure pleasure drew his eyes upward.

And there, in the light of a streetlamp, like an answered prayer, he the silhouette of a griffon eagless.

She was hovering upright, her wings only barely moving, standing so stiff and rigid out to her sides he was surprised they could still keep her aloft.

She had one set of talons digging deep into her chest feathers while the other was plunged hard between her legs, pleasuring herself frantically; he couldn’t see her efforts but could just make out the telltale squishing sounds of a very aroused eagless over the pouring rain, who was whimpering almost as much as he had been in the alley.

In a fresh flash of the lightning that lit up the scene completely, he realized she was in fact Owlia Accipiter, his own G-E liaison, as he’d never known or seen her before…

Beautiful.

Powerful.

Sensual.

Sexual.

To his eyes, she was a most magnificent, exotic, and erotic creature he’d ever seen; a fur-and-feather-covered goddess whose attractiveness was only accentuated by the rain that fell hard on her, matting and coating her fur, accentuating her powerful griffon musculature and causing her well-oiled feathers to all but glisten.

“Owlia…” he called out quietly to the vision of the eagless enchantress before him. In awe of the sight of her, he slipped around the corner of the building and sank to the ground with his back against it, his eyes never leaving her feminine form, so deliciously unlike a pony mare. He began stroking himself to the sight of her, wondering what he’d done to be rewarded with such an incredible vision of sheer seductive splendor.

A vision that was only enhanced as she abruptly threw her head back and arched her spine, opening her beak to drink in the rain just as more lightning flashed, giving him a spectacular view of her visibly flushed and swollen eagless marehood—he called it for lack of a better term —as her talons briefly slipped out, causing her to moan in audible frustration at the loss of intimate contact.

She then cast her eyes about the empty street in what he sensed was the same sensual distress as him as she started to descend, her broad and beautiful wings no longer able to sustain her flight for being unable to flap.

And then her hungry and desperate gaze locked on him.