Zebra Anthology

Smiling at his reflection, having reapplied his lipstick, Gallus shot himself a wink. Compared to a year ago, back before he’d dropped out of the royal guard academy, he was a totally different griffon - then again, a lot had changed beside his aesthetic. He’d left his old life and ambitions behind him, all because of one defining experience.

He’d had potential in the academy, despite the classes and physical trials being demanding, yet he’d been unable to address a growing itch. The influx of Zebrican refugees didn’t bother him in the slightest - in fact, he was happy to have plenty of newcomers in town, but it didn’t stay that way for long. His curiosity about the exotic ponies turned into an interest, and that interest gradually metamorphosed into a fixation. Before he knew it, he’d started longing for their big, striped bodies.

The strangest thing was that, prior to meeting any zebra besides Zecora, he’d always considered himself straight - sadly, being surrounded by massive, striped studs, his heterosexualy crumbled like a house of cards. A passing compliment on his girlish figure and a casual slap to his generous backside, from one of his classmates at the time, had been the straw that broke the camel’s back, prompting him to go out and buy his first dildo - after that, it was all downhill. He eventually left the school, embraced his wanton desires, and took a job at a Zebrican dive bar.

As he turned in place, wishing to make himself presentable, he reached back and wiped at the jizz between his supple cheeks. It wasn’t uncommon for customers to give him more than just a tip, oftentimes resulting in a bit of a mess, but that wasn’t a problem in the slightest - heck, if he headed home from work without a belly and ass full of cum, he considered his day a loss. Tossing the tissue into a nearby trash bin, he slipped his thong back into place, brushed off his micro-skirt, and strode out of the employee’s restroom.

With a thumping bass-line in his ears, a sway in his hips, and a smirk on his beak, he surveyed the bar. There weren’t many places that not only allowed but encouraged him to dress like a girl, yet he’d been lucky enough to land a gig at one. Truth be told, he didn’t really have any masculine clothing left, with his wardrobe almost entirely comprised of feminine garments - on the other hand, he barely qualified as a male anymore.

His ass was plump, his hips were full, and he’d even sprouted a pair of soft, very sensitive bosoms on his once deliciously flat chest. While he couldn’t explain exactly why or how his figure had become increasingly girlish, the last thing he was going to do was complain. As far as he was concerned, his outward appearance was steadily coming to mirror how he felt inside - that is to say, a total slut.

“Nice ass, Bitch,” a mohawed stud grunted, reaching out and casually squeezing the svelte griffon’s behind.

Gallus faltered, reflexively rocking his tush back into the stallion’s strong, meaty grasp. Ever since he’d taken his job, he’d grown increasingly servile - to the point where he often acted without even thinking. A soft giggle escaped him, as the stud’s fingers wandered into the cleft of his behind.

Stars above, there was nothing quite as arousing as having a huge, dominant stallion flirting with him. Feeling a thick digit caress his excitedly winking pucker, a thrilled shiver ran up his spine. He’d only been on the clock for a measly three hours, yet this was the second patron who’d sought to distract him. Momentarily glancing at the bar, seeing a number of customers getting orders for themselves, he found himself at an impasse.

He could and likely should have started clearing tables and serving drinks, yet those were only part of his duties. Though his boss had never expressly said he was supposed to tend to the clientele’s less than savory needs, he’d never once been chastised for leaving the hulking brutes who haunted the bar satisfied with only cocktails. Stepping away and spinning around, he leaned forward and gently caressed the stud’s chiseled jaw.

“Such a charmer - tell me, you got a name?” he sweetly inquired.

“Not like it matters to a cock-slut like you,” the zebra chuckled, watching the sissy’s eyes drift to his groin, “but it’s Buur.” Slipping his hand under the griffon’s skirt, shamelessly fondling the diminutive bulge beneath the snugly-fitted G-string, he grinned. “Does that little clit work, or do you wear that cage because it makes you look bigger than you really are?”

A genuine blush reached Gallus’ cheeks, yet his charming smile remained. “Does that really matter to a bitch like me?”

It was true, he hadn’t used his equipment for nearly half a year. His cage had originally been a suggestion from a patron, denying him any use of his meager endowment and serving as a constant reminder of his inferiority, but he ended up wearing it constantly. As the months passed, with his physique slowly becoming less and less masculine, his prick became a pale shadow of what it used to be. While he’d never been particularly large downstairs, the months of chastity had left him with something more akin to a clit than an actual cock.

“Hah - ya see, this is what I’m talking about,” Buur laughed, slapping the table and looking over at two of his friends. “Little faggots who know their place can’t be beat, even if they can’t get knocked up.”

“Well,” the griffon purred, leaning in and fondling the growing bulge in the stud’s shorts, “you may not be able to put a bun in my oven, but that doesn’t mean you can’t breed me…”

The zebra’s head whipped towards the femcolt, as he grabbed the server’s wrist. “Gonna have to earn that, slut.”

Lifting a hand and flipping the golden-tipped crest away from his face, Gallus locked eyes with the stallion and lazily sank into a deep squat. “Yes, Sir.”

Ignoring the raucous laughter of the small group, as the stud turned his chair to fully face him, he drew his tongue over his beak. There weren’t many places where casual exhibitionism was condoned, yet he was in one of them. Zebricans had a less than conservative view when it came to sexual affairs, viewing them as a basic need and mark of pride, so their establishments tended to be a bit relaxed when it came to lecherous displays.

With his legs lewdly spread, balanced on the stiletto heels on his feet, his eyes wandered down the striped hulk’s broad chest and six-pack to the massive swell at the customer’s crotch. He must have sucked off or been plowed by nearly a hundred studs since he’d started working at the bar - still, the simple act of pleasing one of the glorious creatures never failed to get his blood pumping. Ignoring the din, uncaring of the eyes turning towards him, he reached out, unbuttoned Buur’s shorts, and slowly pulled at the zipper.

Even before the fly was fully drawn open, an ambrosial scent crept to his nostrils. There was no other way to put it, Zebras were just different from ponies; they were bigger, stronger, remarkably forward, and they all knew just what they wanted. If a striped stud found you hot, you’d know it - it was as simple as that. As he gingerly slipped a hand into brute’s trunks, getting his first feel of the mammoth lurking just beneath the garment, a hand grabbed his shoulder.

“Hey,” Buur huffed, bringing the femcolt’s attention up to his face, “my friends here don’t mind me getting first dibs, but how about you give ‘em a little something to look at.”

Gallus’ heavily lidded eyes swept across the table, noting the other stallions seated there. He definitely wouldn’t mind tending to each and every one of them, but the establishment really wasn’t geared for gang-bangs. Hoping to get the spectators in the mood, and more than a little excited to show himself off, he grabbed his crop top and pulled it upward. The sound of amused grunts and demeaning words were music to his ears, as he unveiled his modest breasts.

Helping himself, Burr extended an arm and squeezed one of the griffon’s tits. “Damn, girl, you got a nice little rack on ya.”

“Thanks,” Gallus murmured, using his free hand to smack his ass, “but the dark meat is way more juicy.”

Their laughter was all the encouragement he needed, prompting him to continue. Shifting his focus back to the customer’s groin, hoping not to waste any more time, he carefully wrapped his digits around the massive log of stallionhood, withdrew his arm, and pulled the prodigious endowment into the open air. Gazing at what had to be nearly a foot of cock, feeling his pucker hungrily seize upon itself, he shuffled between the stud’s legs.

Opening his beaked jaw and extending his tongue, while he angled the semi-rigid length toward his face, a haze of lust settled over him. Ever since his first experience with a zebra, he found it almost impossible to think clearly around them - especially once things started to heat up. The second things started getting amorous with a striped stallion, he was powerless to stop himself from worshiping them as the sexual gods they were.

Closing with the titanic length, he gave the tip an introductory kiss and slipped the stallionhood into his maw. There were some Zebricans who were a bit anxious to get sucked off by a griffon, and with good reason, but this client clearly wasn’t one of them. Just because he had a beak didn’t mean he couldn’t give a damn good blowjob, and he intended to prove it.

He filed his keratinous jaw down every morning, removing the sharpened edges and point, making the task of orally pleasing another significantly less risky - pair that with all the practice he’d had, only earning himself a handful of slaps or stern warnings, and he’d gotten quite skilled at warming someone up with his mouth. Lashing at the velvety skin with his tongue, issuing a soft groan, he looked up and met the stallion’s eyes. If there was a better vantage to look upon such a handsome creature, he couldn’t think of it.

“Yeah, a bitch like you needs a real dick ~ don’t ya?” Buur mused, leaning to the side and looking at the griffon’s nethers. “Bet you’re already leaking down there…”

“Mmmhmm,” the femcolt hummed, reaching around his thigh to tug at his thong.

Showing off his cage served a dual purpose; for starters, would keep his g-string from getting smeared with the pre-cum leaking from his prick - secondly there weren’t many zebras that didn’t like seeing how small he was. Theatrically bucking his hips forward and back, shamelessly displaying the silver confines of his minuscule package, he withdrew and licked his lips. There’d been a time when he would have been mortified to display himself in such a slatternly fashion, yet that time was a distant memory.

“Shit, I’ve seen mares with bigger clits than that,” the stud continued, his stallionhood growing harder with every passing second. “Good thing you’re a bottom, because you’d never get a girl off with that.”

“Y…yeah,” Gallus stammered, shifting his hand back and plunging two fingers into his ass.

Flexing his pelvis, Buur caused his cock to spring from the griffon’s grasp. “Lucky for you, I got all the cock you’ll ever need. How about you get me warmed up, faggot, then I’ll give you what you want.”

Gallus enthusiastically nodded, stood to his full height, and stepped back. If he was going to get his insides rearranged, it wasn’t going to be while he was squatting down on the floor - with that in mind, he saw no point in switching things up a little bit. Resting one hand on the zebra’s thigh, while the other continued to work his cum-slicked backdoor, he bent forward and crammed the first few inches of Buur’s length down his gullet.

Being watched while suffocating on a fat dick was nearly as arousing as the act of sucking someone off itself, but that wasn’t the best part - the best part was simply being allowed to submit to such a paragon of masculinity. Compared to any Zebrican, he was nothing - no, less than nothing, which made every opportunity to venerate them an honor. Spreading his legs and lifting his tail, giving any and all a view of his well-used backside, he bobbed his head and sought to please the stud.

The taste of sweat and cloying pre-cum, the heady musk filling his sinuses, the sensation of soft flesh against his tongue, and the sight of the giant’s approving smile made his heart skip a beat. He knew his place, that he was barely worthy of being such a divine creature’s plaything, which was exactly why he’d worked so hard to make himself appealing and useful to his lords. He couldn’t say what he would have done if the Zebrican refugees had never come to Equestria, but he thanks the heavens each and every day for being able to serve them.

“That’s right, choke on it, Bitch,” Buur growled, grabbing the lad’s head and forcing it downward.

With a choked gag, leaving streaks of purple lipstick on the stud’s shaft, Gallus felt his throat bulge outward. He honestly couldn’t see how anyone could easily fellate something so utterly huge - then again, he wasn’t complaining. The tinge of discomfort was an exotic spice, heightening his excitement to unbelievable heights.

He made no move to stop the stud, only taking sips of air if and when able, as he was used. Tears streamed down his face, carrying his mascara along with them, yet he was nowhere near finished yet. With only half the length swabbing his gullet, it was anyone’s guess as to when Buur would wish for things to proceed. Cramming a third and fourth digit into his rump, all but fisting himself for the crowd, he lifted his gaze to the stallion’s face.

“Yeah,” Buur growled, locking eyes with the femcolt, “I wanna see how badly you need this.”

Even if Gallus had been able to speak, he wouldn’t have known what to say. As his lungs began to burn, being starved from air by the increasingly sadistic treatment, his throat spasmed wildly. All the eagerness and practice in the world wouldn’t stop him from blacking out, something that had only happened a few times before, yet he persisted in not fighting back. It was only when his vision began to tunnel, with his legs buckling beneath him, did the stud relent.

Rearing back and freeing his airway, praying the patron wouldn’t take it as a sign of disrespect, he weakly coughed. “T…thank you, sir.”

“You ain’t done yet, Bitch,” the titan snarled, reclining and draping his arms over the back of the chair. “Ride it.”

Though the demand was simple and straightforward enough, Gallus was presented with a choice. Either cowgirl or reverse cowgirl would work marvelously, given the circumstances, yet which position would work best. Should he opt to face his partner, giving the throng a view of his soon to be stuffed backside, or should he show everyone just how pathetic his supposed stallionhood was. Wheeling around, he hitched his thumbs over the hem of his skirt and thong.

As he pulled the garments down, doing his best not to smile like an idiot, he put his diminutive endowment on display. Intended or not, the stud’s earlier comment had rung true. Without his cage, his clit stood only barely over an inch long and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten an erection. With his lower half bare, he slipped his top up and over his head.

Extending his arms and squeezing the griffon’s backside, Buur spread the femcolt’s cheeks, eyed the lad’s battered hole, and snickered. “Hope this sloppy cunt of yours is ready, because I’m gonna leave you blown out for the next guy.”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t, Sir,” Gallus giggled.

Stepping back and between the stud’s thighs, he reached back and grabbed the towering stallionhood. Buur was definitely on the larger side, and would definitely give him a good stretch, but his ass was already warmed up. Between the dicking he’d received earlier, with jizz and lube still coating his interior, he should be able to handle the big bastard easily enough - if not, he’d have an excuse to get a bit forceful.

The moment the fat, bloated cock-head touched his hole, he swung his hips down and back. His eyelids fluttered, butterflies formed in his stomach, and pre-cum oozed from his cage, but he couldn’t afford to savor it; this wasn’t about him, his pleasure was a mere byproduct of satiating a true alpha. Lower and lower he distended, feeling his insides shift to accommodate the gargantuan intrusion, until he was fully seated on the zebra’s lap.

Wasting no time, knowing he had a duty to fulfill, he spread his legs and hooked his knees over the stallion’s muscular thighs. Experienced though he was, buying himself just a bit of time to acclimate to having the massive appendage sheathed in his rump would make things a bit easier - mercifully for him, his customer seemed more than happy to help. A pair of meaty hands crept around to his chest, twisting and pulling his sensitive nipples, as he gyrated his hips.

“You better start fucking yourself on me, if you don’t want me to put your face in the floor,” Buur hissed.

The small threat, while a tempting offer, was all Gallus needed to get things started. Flexing his legs, unsheathing himself from the girthy root of the stud’s shaft, he started bouncing. Despite being unable to deep-dick himself in the position, the thick medial ring crushing his tender p-spot more than made up for his self-imposed lack of mobility. As he instinctively clenched on his upstrokes, while relaxing on his plunges, he turned his head and smiled to his adoring fans.

If there was one thing that brought out his inner cum-dumster, other than merely being hit on by a striped goliath, it was exposing himself to a crowd. He could practically feel all the eyes upon his unseemly body, hear the lustful thoughts and sinful promises on their lips, and it drove him absolutely wild. All for upping the show, he ran his hands over his face, over his groped bosoms, across the bulge appearing in his belly, and to his crotch.

Just above and to one side of his locked little clit was an investment he’d made barely a month prior. He’d never given much thought to getting a tattoo before, but his love of Zebricans practically demanded he permanently mark himself for them. The small Z of spades symbol was just tiny enough to conceal while he was out and about, but anyone who saw it would instantly know where his sexual allegiances lie.

A buck from the stud beneath him shook him from his indulgent thoughts, spurring him to pick up the pace. “Harder, Daddy!”

With Buur deciding to take a less passive role, his ambitions soared. Getting the stud’s timing down, he synchronized his movements to his lover’s. His plush backside slapped against the stallion’s hips, his pucker was drawn out and stuffed in with every thrust, and the breath hitched in his throat, as he inched closer and closer to his limit. Try as he might not to climax, he simply didn’t have a choice in the matter.

“I’m…I’m gonna…” he wheezed, his efforts to please the stud faltering.

Grabbing the griffon’s shoulders, Buur pulled the femcolt to his chest. “Go ahead, faggot, squirt like the little mare you - Mmmmph - wish you were.”

The mere mention of being a mare was too much for Gallus to handle, pushing him past the brink. With a girlish howl, he shuddered and climaxed. Thin, watery spunk weakly gushed from his cage, dribbling down his coin purse and onto the monstrous shaft pistoning his tush. He would have given anything to be a real girl, if only so he could carry a beautiful striped foal, yet it wasn’t meant to be.

What little strength he had left fled from him, as the stallion took control. Perhaps Buur was excited about literally fucking the cum out of a lesser male, or maybe he had an exhibitionistic streak of his own - regardless of the cause, the titan flew into a frenzy. His shaft pulsed and flared, his hefty balls clenched, and he bit down on the sissy’s neck, as he crossed the threshold.

Gallus’ eyes rolled, and his beak hung open in a soundless scream of rapture, as his depths were flooded with hot, virile seed. Though he’d had an orgasm mere seconds before, the primal desire of the giant would not - no, could not be denied. Overwhelming ecstasy surged through him, threatening to carry him into a nirvanic oblivion, while he struggled to remain conscious.

Of all the things he’d done and tried in his life, submitting himself to huge, striped, musclebound giants resonated most keenly with him. There was no question that he was inferior to them, each and every one, yet embracing that inadequacy had been an epoch. The sun rose and set every day, water ran to the coast, and the weak should serve the strong - such were universal truths that governed the world.

He had no way of knowing how long he’d stayed atop Buur, but when he came to, most of the audience had disbanded. Drunkenly peering down his chest, he wearily grinned. While he may not be able to get pregnant, he could easily pass for a gravid griffon. As he squeezed his aching hole around stud’s softening cock, hoping to appreciate his cum-filled belly, the giant shifted.

“If you’re done milking my cock, how about you get me a drink,” Buur disinterestedly remarked.

Peeking over his shoulder at the stallion, Gallus nodded and unquestioningly obliged. He’d definitely need a quick trip to the restroom, if only to avoid leaving a snail trail of spunk behind himself for the next hour, yet he’d just been given an order. Bearing down with all his might, trapping as much cum as he could within his bowels, he stood up and unsheathed himself from the titan.

As he shakily trotted over to the bar, only stopping to gather up his discarded garments, he smirked. “It’ll be one moment, Sir…” he wheezed. Unfortunately for him, being distracted by his gracious customer, he only managed to take a few steps before bumping into someone. “Sorry, I…”

The words died in his throat, as he saw who was in front of him. Dressed in a pair of boy shorts and a t-shirt, bearing golden hoop earrings, her lavender coat and turquoise coat were unmistakable. Though he hadn’t seen her in years, he instantly recognized the young woman he’d spent his school years with - Silverstream.

His beak flapped, and his pupils shrank to pinpricks, as he shied away. Her eyes wandered up and down his frame, pausing briefly on his leaking cage and spade tattoo, before moving up to his face. If he was very, very lucky, she might not recognize him, considering how much he’d changed since they’d last spoken - sadly, that wasn’t the case. As she locked eyes with him, a look of shock passed over her.

“Gallus?!” she croaked.

His cheeks went flush, as he turned and fumblingly attempted to cover his loins. “H…hey, Silverstream.”

Slipping glimpses at his backside, doubtlessly spying the jizz leaking down his inner thigh, she shook her head. “What in the world happened to you?”

“It’s - uh - it’s a long story,” he breathed, rubbing the back of his neck.

Of all the times for one of his oldest friends to show up, this was quite possibly the worst. Even if she hadn’t seen him getting railed out by Buur, it would be impossible to plausibly explain why he was naked, coated in spunk, branded, and with his dicklette locked in a silver cage. It took every ounce of courage he had to smile and nod toward a VIP room at the far end of the establishment, but he managed to pull it off.

“I’ll meet you over there in a few minutes,” he instructed, sauntering to the bar, “just let me get this order and clean up.”

She deserved an explanation, that much was for certain, though he would have to assume she’d think less of him. While zebras were becoming increasingly common, femcolts who debased themselves were typically viewed with disdain. Stopping at the counter and ordering a cocktail, attempting to distract himself from the embarrassment plaguing him, a peculiar detail piqued his interest - why had Silverstream decided to visit a Zebrican club?