Daring Do and the Fetish of Fertility
“Nnnngh,” Daring Do groaned, rolling over and pressing a forehoof to her temple.
The sensation of something soft beneath her was welcoming for only the briefest of moments, before she realized how out of place it was. Bolting into a seated position, scanning the area, she gasped. Gone were the cold, vine covered walls of the shrine she’d unearthed, replaced by the thatched roof and crude wooden walls of some sort of hut.
She rested on a bed of straw, within the small, empty structure. The building she found herself in was simple, with next to no furnishings, with a beaded door leading to the sunlit exterior. While she didn’t know where she was, she knew she wasn’t supposed to be there. Burying her face in her hooves, she closed her eyes and desperately tried to figure out how she’d wound up where she was.
One slightly troubling thing of note was that her signature pith hat and shirt had been removed, carefully placed beside her mat. She could tell without looking that nopony had done anything questionable with her, though the care with which her garment was folded raised her to raise a brow. The fact that someone disrobed her, while a bit disquieting, was justified by the circumstances leading to her awakening.
The last thing she remembered was pressing into the ruins of a long abandoned temple, deep within the southern jungles of the continent. She’d heard rumors that the indigenous ponies had forsaken some of their treasures, artifacts of supposed power, so she’d sought them out to reclaim them, lest they be forgotten to the passage of time. Her train ride to the peninsula had been pleasant enough, but the real adventure had begun once she’d gotten off the beaten path.
The region was hellish to navigate, comprised of dense rain forest, rough terrain, and regular downpours, but she’d pressed on regardless. With little to go off of, only a few historical accounts and the testimony of a few locals, she wasn’t even sure if the treasure existed - still, she endured. It wasn’t until almost a week into her expedition did she find what she was looking for.
Truth be told, she’d nearly missed the shrine entirely, such was the overgrowth on the dilapidated structure. Regardless of how ancient the building looked, she knew better than to let her guard down. Besides having to worry about booby traps, there was always the threat of wild animals or, even worse, natives who wouldn’t look kindly upon her transgression. Cautiously pressing onward, through crumbled hallways and flooded corridors, she found what she was looking for.
Sat on a dais, in the center of a large, circular chamber, rested a small, golden totem. As she crept towards her prize, keenly aware of any potential traps, her eyes went alight. The statue was absolutely magnificent and, if she had to guess, worth a small fortune. Masterfully sculpted of what she could only assume was solid gold, the figure was of some primordial fertility goddess. Sadly, just as she reared back and lifted the tiny statue, something went terribly wrong.
The moment her forehooves plucked the effigy from its resting place, a wave of heat washed over her. Wheeling around, swiftly stashing the treasure in her satchel, she searched for the source of the inexplicable sensation. She hadn’t smelled anything amiss, so she doubted it was any sort of gas, yet that did little to quell her anxiety. As the feeling got worse and worse, deteriorating into a severe vertigo, she unsteadily examined herself.
Her vision blurred, she lurched to the side and nearly fell, and it felt like her heart was about to burst, almost causing her to hyperventilate. Whatever ailment had befallen her, she knew she needed to escape. Stumbling away, unsteadily moving towards the exit, she didn’t even make it halfway across the chamber. Crashing to the ground, with the world closing in around her, she blacked out.
Opening her eyes, hearing the sound of movement from outside, Daring snapped back to the present. She was fortunate that somepony had come along and hauled her comatose body from the temple, but that wasn’t necessarily a blessing. As far as she knew, whoever had rescued her may have intended to sacrifice her or rob her of her prize! Rolling over, away from the wall she’d woken up facing, an odd sensation gave her a moment for pause.
Peering down her chest, splaying her hind legs, she knit her brow. Her teats, normally quite small, had ballooned to nearly triple their ordinary size. Reaching down with a wing, both curious and confused with the discovery, she softly prodded the massive bust. She stifled a whimper, as the pinions of her wing grazed the extraordinarily sensitive nipple of one breast. The oversized bust was real alright, but that didn’t explain how or why they’d gotten so obscenely large.
She looked around the room a second time, searching for any clues as to who or what owned the hut, which is when she saw it. Her trusty satchel rested just above her, behind her head, which must have been why she hadn’t initially noticed it. Extending her wings above herself, deftly grabbing the shoulder bag, she sensed a familiar weight within it.
“Please please please,” she whispered to herself, moving the pack to her face and opening the flap.
Gazing down at the tiny golden idol, beaming from ear to ear, she thanked her lucky stars. The fact that her rescuer hadn’t purloined her effects was a massive relief - not only because they could have easily taken the priceless artifact and run, but because they’d left in just beside her. Smiling at the totem, holding it in both hooves, a familiar wave of heat overtook her, but this time was different.
Back when she’d been in the shrine, the perplexing sensation had been almost oppressive - now, resting on the bed of straw, it was almost pleasant. A sudden warmth washed over and through her, causing her to shiver, as she appreciated her prize. The piece would look absolutely stunning in the Canterlot museum of natural history, even if its origins weren’t fully understood, and her odd little adventure would make a wonderful short for an anthology of her exploits - that was, so long as she could return to civilization without incident.
As she placed the totem back in her bag, slipping the satchel around her neck, she attempted to get her legs beneath her. Pressing her thighs together, unintentionally squeezing her enlarged bosoms, the feeling of something warm and decidedly wet on her abdomen caught her attention. Peeking down at herself, spying milk dribbling from each of her engorged teats, she broke the silence.
“What the hay,” she murmured, confounded by the development.
She hadn’t eaten or drank anything suspect, having been familiar with the edible plants in the area, and she definitely wasn’t expecting, so there was no reasonable explanation for why she was suddenly lactating. Caught in the moment, struggling to explain what had happened to her, the diversion cost her dearly. The rustling of beads drew her focus to the doorway, where a tall, powerfully built zebra stallion lingered.
“H...hello,” she sputtered, innocently holding up a forehoof and her wings. “Is this your hut?”
The stranger impassively stared at her, studying her from top to bottom, before his gaze settled upon her milk-streaked crotch. Being walked in on by anypony would have been startling enough, given that she’d woke up in such an unfamiliar place, but seeing them study her bosoms wasn’t helping her apprehension. Forcing herself to stay calm, hopping to her hooves, she cautiously stepped towards him.
“Do you speak ponish?” she asked, extending a wing towards him. Giving him a moment to reply, noting his silent, impassive expression, she gave a second attempt. “Do you speak anything?”
Natives were curious, and she’d met all sorts over her years of adventuring - some of the indigenous ponies would attempt to harm or capture her, angry that she was in their territory, while some were quite amiable. Considering the big guy was probably the one who’d hauled her to safety, she probably didn’t have too much to worry about - that being said, she’d rather be safe than sorry.
Smiling up at him, waiting to see his intentions with her, her eyes wandered over his frame. Standing a full head taller than herself, his massive mohawk making him appear even larger than he was, his physique was downright stunning. Well defined muscles of a live of labor rested just beneath his striated hide, speaking volumes of his physical prowess, but he looked relaxed - at least, for the time being.
Drifting closer, retracting her wing, an unusual aroma tickled her nostrils. Breathing deeply through her nose, interested by the unfamiliar scent, she shivered. Whatever it was, it smelled positively divine; earthy, strong, and bafflingly exotic, she subconsciously drifted towards the source. Nearly losing herself, as she inched closer to her host, a stunning realization hit her - she was smelling him.
Hastily stepping back, feeling more than a little embarrassed, she had intended to apologize for her bizarre behavior, but another issue quickly presented itself. Dangling below the zebra, steadily emerging from his sheath, was quite possibly the biggest stallionhood she’d ever laid eyes upon. How she hadn’t noticed it prior was beyond her, given its obscene size, yet she quickly found herself staring at the impressive appendage.
Covered in obsidian flesh, replete with a pair of ripe, pendulous nuts, his package was absolutely staggering. The sheer size of his endowment was only rivaled by how picturesque it was, leaving her to stare in open awe. Her eyes crept wider and wider, watching the behemoth steadily grow in length and girth, as she fidgeted in place. Though he didn’t seem bothered by all of the attention, her body definitely was.
Her mouth openly watered, prompting her to swallow, as an ache gradually crept into her loins. Slow to start, like some nefarious malady, a warmth spread through her abdomen. The sensation of her winking, drooling marehood nearly went unnoticed, until she felt a bead of nectar creeping down her thigh. Turning to the side, she forced herself to look away from the siren-like package of her host.
Glowering at the floor, wondering what in the world had gotten into her, she grimaced. Throughout her entire life, she’d never gotten worked up so quickly, even in her rambunctious youth, leaving her at a loss. Distracted as she was, glancing to her bag, her first inclination was that her condition had something to do with her earlier blackout, but that didn’t add up. Aside from losing consciousness, and being inexplicably horny as all get-out, she felt just dandy.
Distracted as she was, musing on what in Equestria had gotten into her, she didn’t hear the zebra approaching until it was too late. Lowering his head, bringing his muzzle to her rear, he brazenly sniffed her backside. Her head whipped towards him, fully intent on politely telling him to stop, although a peculiar Slap caught her ear; the first noise was followed by a second, then a third and a fourth, until she discovered the source.
The stud’s cock was fully erect, smacking against his underbelly and slinging pre-cum to the earth below. The sight of his engorged length nearly made her weak in the knees, set her heart racing, and set the depths of her sex ablaze. For a single, fleeting moment, she was tempted to let him do as he pleased, see how far he was willing to go, before wrenching her attention to his face.
“Y...you can stop now,” she sputtered, trying and failing to sound stern. She wasn’t genuinely upset, since it may have been a common greeting among his kind, but she needed him to know that his interest wasn’t welcome.
Much to her amazement, the primitive hunk raised his head, stepped back, and turned to face her. While it was painfully obvious that he was excited, his tranquil expression was anything but. The slightest smile split his muzzle, while his lavender eyes met hers. It was only at that moment, staring dead at his face, did she realize just how handsome he was.
The stallion didn’t just have an exquisite build, he was an Adonis. From his broad snout and chiseled jaw to the thick, chord-like muscles moving up his neck, he had the face of an angel - a big, burly, drop dead gorgeous angel. Swooning, listing to one side, she subconsciously fanned herself with one wing, even if it wasn’t the temperature which had her heated.
“So - uh -” she falteringly began, shuffling around to face him, “thanks for rescuing me.”
He cocked his head, possibly trying to understand her words, and nodded slowly. Clearly being the strong, silent type, without having made the slightest attempt to speak, he appeared friendly enough - if possibly a bit too friendly. Motioning to the door, breaking eye contact and undoing his captivating spell, he nonchalantly moved towards the exit.
Daring glanced to the sunlit exterior, then to her host’s face, as she scrunched her snout. “You want me to follow you?”
The stud peeked back at her, dipping his head, as he held the beaded door open and trotted out. She was interested to see what was outside, be it some remote village or a small patch of cleared out jungle, so she figured why not - one way or another, it wasn’t like she could stay in the little shelter forever. Foraging her clothing, she followed her host into the amber light of the setting sun.
Squinting, pausing just beyond the doorway, she gave her eyes a moment to adjust. Her initial assumption had been correct, the strange stallion wasn’t alone. All around her, in a large clearing within the dense forest, rested a small village. Numerous huts lay circled around an open central area, like a town square of sorts, with zebras casually trotting about. The settlement itself wasn’t that unusual, she’d seen others like it in the past, but there was something off about the denizens.
Peering to each of the striped residents, trying her level best to figure out what was off, it finally struck her - each and every one of the equines was male. Big and small, sporting various physiques, all of the residents were stallions. There was a slim chance that there were mares within the buildings, but that wouldn’t make much sense at all; if they were keeping all the females hidden away, if there were any females, why would they let her roam free.
Her guide grunted, having stopped some dozen paces away, and beckoned to her. Seeing no reason not to indulge him, she lazily trotted up to his side. Situated behind him, moving a bit slower than usual, she treated herself to a view of his rump. Sweet, merciful Celestia, the stud’s ass was just as lovely as the rest of him. Shaking her head, seeking to shake the unsavory thoughts from her mind, she moved to his side.
The barest hint of his fragrance wafted to her, causing her to instinctively list closer to him. Insidious thoughts danced through her head, while she slipped glances to his thick neck. Though she couldn’t fathom where he was leading her, or for what purpose, she didn’t care; so long as he didn’t stray far from her, she felt certain that everything would be alright.
Approaching the dead center of the town, within a curious circle, the stallion drew to a halt and slowly turned towards her. His face was as hard to read as ever, almost serene, as he stepped forward, pressed his chest against her, and draped his head over her comparatively diminutive shoulder. While his aroma and alluring figure had been bewitching enough, the tactile contact was akin to a sensual onslaught for the adventurer.
Despite herself, Daring’s tail flagged almost instantaneously, giving any and all present a view of her extraordinarily engorged, winking marehood. Her loins burned, practically begging her to be sated, as she trembled against him. As badly as she wanted to move, to step away from the ravishing creature, her body wouldn’t let her.
“So what are we…” she trailed off, spotting the townsfolk closing in on her.
Smiling at her, with their stallionhoods dangling and swaying beneath them, the striped studs drew nearer and nearer. Unable to move, barely able to form a coherent thought, her eyes flitted from one swaying length to another. Large and small, slender and girthy, the presentation was like a depraved feast for the eyes. Before she realized what she was doing, she was bracing her hind legs and arching her back.
Her instincts wrestled with her higher functions, leaving her frozen in place. She simply couldn’t do something so scandalous - not with a perfect stranger, and definitely not in front of an entire village! Screwing her eyes shut, completely surrounded by the banded natives, it was the first time she genuinely couldn’t rationalize what was happening - that was, until a sudden thought occurred.
The totem she’d found, the golden effigy of a fertility goddess. It had never occurred to her that the treasure may have some curse placed upon it, some eldritch power used for rituals or the like, but that was the only explanation that came to mind. The disorientation, the erotic thoughts, her painfully sensitive marehood, the swollen, leaking teats, they could only be caused by some unnatural force or sorcery.
The revelation about her troubles did nothing to relieve her of the ache in her nethers and the nigh unstoppable desire to be mounted, yet things quickly took a turn. Hearing movement, she peeked out and saw the crowd part for a pair of villagers carrying what appeared to be a wooden bench. As the duo sat the object beside her, at the epicenter of the settlement, she took note of the carvings upon the piece.
A downright slatternly collage had been hewn into every surface of the bench, with zebras fornicating in every conceivable way. Inching over, squinting down at the masterfully crafted piece, she went rigid; the engravings weren’t exclusively zebras, they were quite clearly zebras making love to pony mares. Feeling her pulse quicken, with the pieces finally falling into place, a loud, dominant snort cut through the air. Peering over her shoulder, seeing her host positioning herself behind her, her heart skipped a beat.
She could turn back, could fly away and forget all about the strangle little tribals and their silly little rituals, but she couldn’t. Lowering her gaze to the ground, feeling her cheeks darken, she placed one forehoof onto the rest, then the second, until she was immaculately presented to the stud. Her tail flipped to the side, and she splayed her hind legs, yet she didn’t make a sound. It was embarrassing enough that she’d basically given him an invitation to have his way with her, but she simply couldn’t bring herself to ask for any sort of amorous affection.
Keeping her head lowered, both exhilarated and shamed beyond belief, she waited. Seconds grew into minutes, a warm breeze blew over her, and the mute throng impassively waited - yet nothing happened. Each moment which passed was sheer torture, as her blossoming lust strained her withering composure - still, she held her tongue. The soft slapping of their cocks, the ambrosial scent of their bodies, and knowing how exotically charming they appeared wasn’t enough to break her, but that all changed in an instant.
As her host breathed hotly upon her sex, issuing an approving grunt, her resolve shattered outright. With her temper flaring, she glared back at him. “Are you going to buck me or what?!”
Her outburst drew a broad grin from the stallion, as he straightened up, reared back, and shuffled forward. His forehooves slammed down beside hers, as his chest bore down upon her. The sensation of feeling him, of having the heat of his length resting against her back, was indescribable. Needily rocking back, she gnawed her lip.
“Please,” she whimpered, her loins leaking like a faucet, “I need it…”
With a pleased grunt, her host shuffled back and brought the titanic tip of his stallionhood to her entrance. If felt even larger than it looked, momentarily causing her to wonder if she could even accommodate the behemoth, but she was well past the point of reason. Extending her wings, sweetly caressing his sides, she lowered her chest to the bench.
With all the speed of a glacier, he ground himself against her sex. It was all she could do to draw a deep breath and try to relax, though it felt like an impossible task. Harder and harder he pressed, incrementally ratcheting up the pressure, though her depths refused to yield. Finally, summoning the strength to throw her weight back, their efforts bore fruit. In one swift, almost merciless motion, his member sank into her.
The intrusion was unlike anything she’d ever experienced, a strange combination of terrifying and amazing, and it drove her to climax in the blink of an eye. There was no buildup, no gradual escalation of pleasure - no, just the raw, unbridled fury of nirvana itself embracing her. Her legs shuddered, a torrent of orgasmic juices gushed out of her stuffed, quivering marehood, and her mouth hung in a silent scream of ecstasy, yet she somehow remained standing.
Apparently pleased with her steadfastness, or perhaps heedless of it, the stallion began to move. His first plunge was followed by a second, then a third and a fourth, until he was steadily rutting his mate. Each thrust sent his immense balls crashing into her clit, causing her to shudder in bliss, as his gargantuan pillar progressively delved deeper and deeper.
Though she’d just experienced the most mind-bending climax of her entire life, leaving her speechless, her body moved in tune with her tremendous host. Clenching on his backstrokes, while relaxing with each plunge, she milked his length for all she was worth. She was scarcely aware of what she was doing, enraptured by the divine sensations he afforded, yet it didn’t matter. Eons of evolutionary instinct took hold, allowing her to do the one thing she was made for - breed.
Drops of her nectar pattered to the ground, joined by a slow but steady drizzle from her leaking teats. Her bosoms jostled beneath her, swaying with the impetus of her lover’s thrusts. She scarcely noticed their added weight beneath herself, as she lost herself to the moment. While she was no virgin, her experience with the striped buck was leagues better than anything she’d had before.
Even if she could speak, she had nothing to say. Hormones rushed through her system, while her timidity was steadily fucked out of her. Her panting breaths became soft moans, she threw her body back to meet him, and drool crept down her chin, as she gave in to her urges. In a perverse sense, the experience was oddly cathartic.
There she was, the Daring Do, being plowed before a crowd of onlookers, but she didn’t care. She’d spent almost the entirety of her life fixating on adventure, on seeking out lost and forgotten treasures of the old world, and she’d neglected herself. Regardless of her title or the name she’d made for herself, she was and always would be one thing - a mare. Throwing her head back, feeling herself rocketing towards a second release, she howled to the setting sun.
Throughout it all, her stud persisted, although his tempo gradually started to shift. The speed and force of his plunges increased, causing his stallionhood to knock against her womb, as he grunted above. It was his place, towering above a fertile mate, and he knew it. As the minutes dragged by, just after the pegasus suffered a second orgasm, his thrusts grew frantic, almost frenzied.
She wasn’t even fully aware of what was happening, until it was too late. The striped hulk hilted, jamming himself against her cervix, while his shaft maddeningly throbbed. As the heat of his seed poured into her, claiming her like no other had, she nearly collapsed. The heat and sheer volume of the influx was enough to push her past the brink, leaving her to bray out in exaltation.
The moment was beyond gratifying, knowing she’d fulfilled a role she was destined to hold, but her host wasn’t done yet, not by a long shot. Shuffling back, hauling his barely softened length from her clinging confines, he unsheathed himself and dismounted. The departure was almost heartbreaking, feeling her sex gape and desperately wink at nothing, and it brought with it a moment of clarity.
Watching the stud, seeing him step to her side, she wasn’t sure what he was doing - that was, until he gently scooped her up and placed her on the bench. Lying supine, with her back against the carved wood, she twisted her head in confusion. Slowly, as her host withdrew, two new stallions moved forward.
Situated as she was, with her head and rear situated at the ends of the small piece of furniture, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what they were planning. Spreading her legs for one suitor, while opening her mouth for the second, she waved them over. Subtlety be damned - they’d just watched her get mounted and banged, so what little modesty she’d had was long gone.
As the stallions got into position, with one getting the use of her muzzle, and the second having access to her loosened marehood, they wasted no time. While the one railing her wasn’t quite as well endowed as her host, the missionary felt amazing - that being said, having her snout filled with a meaty, unwashed cock was enough to get her off in and of itself. Though she’d never been the biggest fan of oral, having a zebra’s shaft against her tongue brought her predilections into question.
Not only was the taste of his equipment heavenly, but his musk was everything she’d imagined. The one-two punch of flavor and olfactory input drove her wild, setting her to moan around his pistoning length. Bucking up to meet one lover, while hungrily slurping and servicing the other, she lost herself to the hedonistic desires overwhelming her. While she would have wrapped her hindlegs around the stallion pounding her cum-slathered snatch, he was slightly too large for her - still, she did what she could to squeeze his majestic tool.
The feeling of being used, of satiating herself with not one but two exotic beauties was wonderful beyond words. She was little more than an outlet for their sinful yearnings, a fertile field in spring, and she loved every minute of it. The entirety of her senses were engulfed by her want - no, need to indulge her lovers. Losing herself, she leveled every ounce of her carnal skill against them, praying she’d win their favor and their rich, virile essence.
Drawing breaths when she could, while the stallion at her head rhythmically sank into her gullet, she sensed him getting close. The unsteady bucking, his quivering thighs, and the growing flair in her throat meant only one thing - he was at his limit. Reaching up, gently caressing and fondling his heavy nuts, he unleashed a torrent of spunk down her throat.
Moments after the stallion plowing her muzzle tipped over the edge, the stud rutting her reached his limit. Jamming every inch of himself into her, huffing and snorting triumphantly, he added his seed to her previous mates. Just as before, the feeling of warmth drove her past the brink. Sputtering cum around the cock in her maw, quaking with bliss, she gulped down the creamy load.
Gratified with their release, the pair unceremoniously hauled their softening tools from her. All the satisfaction she’d felt, the contentment of feeling them within her, was gone in an instant. No sooner had their slickened, softening shafts escaped her sex and maw than the same ravenous hunger came roaring back with a vengeance. Rolling in place, nearly falling off her rest, she scrambled onto her belly and wriggled to the side. Now laying widthwise across the bench, balanced on her torso, she wantonly peered at the host of prospective partners.
“W - Cough - Well?” she croaked, her throat sore from the ravaging she’d just received. A trio of stallions stepped towards her, smiling to themselves, but it wasn’t enough. Extending her wings above her head, she waved more onlookers forward. “Come on already!”
Her second prompting provoked another two, with more following behind. As the horde approached, expectantly slapping their members against their bellies, she drunkenly grinned. Her gut told her that she wouldn’t feel truly fulfilled until they’d all had their way with her, painting her inside and out, so that’s just what she intended to do. As yet another pristine cock sank into her, sending bolts of pleasure through her frame, she put herself to work.
Wings, hooves, mouth, marehood - every part of her was used to entertain the teeming mass of randy studs. As soon as one came within her, another took their place. Her existence, her very reason for being, was to serve them, and she welcomed it with open hooves. The depravity of it all was an unfamiliar spice, heightening the intensity and leaving her begging for more.
Stallion after stallion took their turn, while the villagers patiently relished the show. Though they were intent on indulging themselves, they took care to give as good as they received. Her clit was massaged, her engorged breasts were suckled, and every inch of her hide was caressed and kissed. They weren’t just thinking of themselves, not by any means, they were worshiping her.
Time lost all meaning, as no fewer than two dozen zebras relieved themselves with her. By the time they were finished, the sun had set. Basked in the glow of several torches, with nearly all of the tribesponies having shuffled off to their homes, she was covered from head to hoof in the sticky remnants of their gift. She ached, her lungs burned, and she was so weary that she could barely move a single muscle, yet she’d gotten everything she longed for.
She’d climaxed more times than she could count, literally and figuratively filled with the greatest gift of all. She had little doubt that she’d be a mother, though precisely whom the father was she couldn’t say. Rubbing her bloated abdomen, feeling the unimaginable amount of seed marinating within her womb, she was finally able to rest - at least that’s what she thought, until she noticed her host approaching her.
Throughout the heavenly ordeal, while she’d been rutted in more positions than she could imagine, he’d never been far away. He’d been the first one to mark her, to claim her, and so she assumed he’d had some fondness towards her. Stooping by her side, balancing a small urn and brush in one forehoof, he started studiously marking her.
A dense, dark paint seeped into her fur, past the sticky residue of her myriad of lovers, painting her body with thick black bands. She wasn’t sure what purpose the stripes were meant for, nor did she care, because he seemed happy to be marking her. He’d rescued her, in more ways than one, so he’d earned the right to do as he pleased.
As he finished up, completing his design with a spiral on Daring’s belly, he straightened up and offered her a hoof. Though a bit shaky, she hauled herself up and unsteadily got to her hooves. The unbelievably passionate welcoming she’d received had left her sullied and weary beyond belief, though she couldn’t have been happier. As her host trotted away, waving her along, she numbly followed.
While she hoped he was bringing her to a watering hole, or somewhere she could get cleaned up, she wasn’t concerned in the slightest. He’d shown her nothing but kindness, offering a benevolence above and beyond his unassumingly primitive way of life, and he’d earned her trust. Trotting along, rubbing her abdomen with a wing, feeling the culminated heat of his tribe brewing within her, she smiled.
…
Months passed, with Daring growing larger by the day, while under the care of the village. Though she’d initially assumed there hadn’t been any females present, she’d been wrong. A small number of zebra mares had appeared shortly after her arrival, pampering and tending to her every need. As the life within her blossomed, she adapted to her place among them.
Beyond being well cared for, she’d been showered with gifts. Her original garments had been nearly forgotten, replaced by grass skirts and golden jewelry that the village had given her. The stripes she’d been anointed with, immediately after the first night of passion, had remained on her. Though she couldn’t explain why the paint refused to come off, she’d grown quite fond of the spirals and bands marking her body.
Still, of all the offerings the zebras had imparted, there was one which was never far from her. Her host was by her side, day in and day out, and he rarely parted company with her. He’d never once spoken, nor had any of the tribesponies in the settlement, so she’d never learned his name. Regardless of what he was called, if he had a title at all, she’d grown quite fond of him.
She accompanied him in the woodlands, helping him forage for food, and slept with him each and every night. As she became increasingly gravid, her libido steadily increased - a libido he was more than happy to sate. Many a late evening and early morning was shared in the wild throes of passion with her mate, celebrating the life they’d made.
While she wasn’t entirely sure the child within her was his, her instincts told her that it was. His fondness of her, being the first to breed her, and his care were beyond reproach. He was the epitome of a gentle giant, and any mare would have been lucky to have him, making her all the more appreciative of his presence. She knew not what he would do once their foal was born, but she prayed to the stars that he’d never leave her.
All of her past adventures became a distant memory, replaced by something all the more marvelous. Though she knew she could leave, that the tribe would nurture their foal, the option became less and less appealing. She’d found something with them, something which couldn’t be replaced - for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, she felt at home...
