Affectionate Antipathy

Shaka drowsily grumbled as he was awoken from his slumber. The air in his room was cool, his bed was warm, and he had planned on sleeping in - had being the key word. Pulling a pillow over his head, he set his jaw and tried to ignore the periodic barking coming from outside.

“Shut up!” he blared, bolting upright to scowl at a nearby window.

His outburst worked, silencing whatever stray mongrel had found its way to his home, although the reprieve was fleeting. Mere moments after resting his head, closing his eyes, and making himself comfortable, the damned beast went right back to making a racket. He didn’t, nor had he ever hated animals, yet the stray was doing its damnedest to change that.

Swinging his legs from under his sheets and over the side of his mattress, he got to his feet and trudged out of his bedchamber. If yelling wasn’t going to silence whatever accursed cursed hound had come to pay him a visit, perhaps a lobbed shoe would. As lumbered through his house to the entryway, his mood grew increasingly sour.

The ruined morning was unfortunate, starting the day on a decidedly poor note, and the state of his abode only served to frustrate him further. What had been a neat and relatively tidy living room was a mess, the floor was sullied by dirt and hoofprints, and there was a not inconsiderable amount of hay scattered about what was usually a tidy home. Reaching his front door, he sighed.

He’d known the risks involved with transforming himself into a primitive stallion, namely that his judgment and cognition would suffer from having a less advanced mind, although the consequences of his actions were unfortunate. His memories of everything that had transpired after he’d rutted Sahira into a mind-broken mess were hazy; he recalled depositing her at her hut, being hungry, and wandering off to get something to eat, but everything after that was a blur. Judging from his broken coffee table and how he’d roused from his slumber on his living room floor, he had nobody to blame but himself for the disarray around him.

The continued barking shook him from his stupor and reminded him of the more pressing issue at hand. He hadn’t cleaned up the day prior, having spent most of yesterday with something akin to a hangover, but he was going to address that after he got a bit more shuteye. Flinging his door open and preparing to shoo away the wayward animal, he faltered.

There, sitting before him and wagging excitedly, was a dog - a very unique dog. Large, curved horns grew from the beast’s head, its coat was snow white with black, meandering bands, and a pair of savagely pronounced canines hung from its upper jaw. It would have been odd for any domesticated animal to happen upon his house, although to discover a hellhound at his doorstep was downright puzzling.

Bark!

His aggravation faded when the beast began wagging its tail expectantly. His very first familiar had been a canine he’d summoned from the abyss, back when he’d only started dabbling with the occult and shamanism, and his memories of her rarely failed to bring a smile to his muzzle. Squatting down and beckoning to the infernal creature, he patted his thighs.

The hound stood and steadily approached, clearly interested in him but a touch too timid to cast itself into his arms. What in the world was it doing here? Had somepony abandoned it? Was this a gift from some mysterious fan of his or his work? While the hellish mongrel inched closer, the corners of his lips turned up.

Extending an open palm, he waved his fingers. “It’s alright, little one, I won’t bite.”

His hushed coaxing worked well - a bit too well. Instead of sniffing his palm, the beast shot forward and cheerfully nuzzled his bare crotch and dangling package. As he peeked downward and past the hound’s wagging, spade-tipped tail, one of his questions was answered.

He shuffled back and tenderly took her face in his hands. “You’re a naughty girl ~ aren’t you?”

‘Would you expect anything less, master?’

Shaking his head and sailing back, he balked. The voice he’d just heard had been clear as day, easily recognizable, and spoken directly into his mind, yet the suddenness of it, paired with whom had spoken it, alarmed him to no end. Staring into the bitch’s golden, goat-like eyes, he sneered.

‘What’s wrong, master?’ Sahira asked without moving her elongated, toothy jaw. ‘You struck me as one who enjoys dogs over cats, so I -’

“Sahira, as endearing as this little performance is, I haven’t the time or the patience for it,” he clucked.

She hung her head and turned her eyes to the earth. ‘I…I thought it would be a fitting way for me to concede…’

“Well I - what?” he coughed.

Concede? What in the world was she on about? He had given her the rutting of a lifetime, fucking her so hard that any ordinary mortal would have been hospitalized or perished outright, yet for her to capitulate so quickly, and in such a peculiar fashion, was baffling. Collecting himself as quickly as he could, lest his surprise be used against him, he got up and brushed himself off.

“And what led you to that conclusion?” he softly demanded.

‘You’ve wanted to make me your pet for some time ~ no?’ she countered. Trotting away from him, she lazily spun in a circle to display herself. ‘Am I to your liking?’

Her movements were graceful to a fault, the sheen on her short, downy fur was impeccable, and her diminutive size, with her head only barely reaching his knees, made him feel even larger and stronger than he usually did in her presence. Hellhounds were fascinating creatures, lent from the abyss to serve only the most skilled or reckless conjurers, and they weren’t much larger than the garden-variety, mortal canine. Momentarily distracted by a glimpse of her engorged, glistening sex, he snorted.

Following his gaze, she craned her neck and peeked back at her svelte, toned tush. ‘It felt fitting…’

He waved a hand before folding his arms over his chest. “That being?”

‘Being in heat, master. Serving you as your thrall simply wouldn’t be enough, so I took it upon myself to suffer further,’ she explained with an audible whimper.‘A stud of your caliber would never dream of sating the desires of some wanton, lustful animal, although perhaps, if I’m a good girl and prove my fealty, you’d deign me worthy as breeding stock for puppies - after all, it could be quite a lucrative venture for you…’

“And I’m to think that this isn’t some elaborate, wildly eccentric trap ~ hmm?” he pressed. Stepping forward, he knelt down and caressed her cheek. “You’re better than this, Sahira, we both know that.”

‘Knew that,’ she corrected. ‘Master, I was in a pitiful state after our last exchange. My legs barely worked, I had to drag myself around my hut for the better part of a day, and your seed still lingers in my womb. I freely recognize that I was wrong, that you are indeed the superior shaman, and I would be happy - no, honored to be your bitch.’

To hammer her point home, she bowed and touched her chin to the ground. Her supposed deference was artfully presented, and her form was immaculate, but he wasn’t buying it for one second. There had to be some catch, some way that she was going to trick him with her…

“You can’t speak…” he murmured.

‘Not in a conventional sense,’ she sighed. ‘Apropos…’

While she yapped, barked, and made a myriad of animalistic noises, he snickered then burst into laughter. The absolute idiot had given herself an unimaginable disadvantage - several disadvantages. Aside from her relatively dainty size, being so small that he could snap her neck with ease, she’d lost the use of her vocal cords and scathing tongue.

Straightening up, he pinched the bridge of his snout. “You know, as unfathomable as this is to say, I’m inclined to believe you.”

‘Many thanks, master, but save your gratitude until I’m finished,’ she hummed. Sauntering over to a shrub beneath his living room window, she retrieved a gift basket. ‘Every pet owner should be properly prepared - bearing that in mind, and because you weren’t expecting me, I took matters into my own hands - er - paws.’

He eyed the present from afar, curious but hesitant to peek within. “Poison gas? No, that’s not your style. Explosives?”

Giving him a curtsey, she touched a forepaw to the basket. ‘Nothing of the sort! Shall I open it for you?’

“Please do,” he responded with a wave of his hand.

When dealing with Sahira, heedless of what form she took, he’d learned that an abundance of caution was always well warranted. To his abject shock, and amusing him to no end, she pulled a harness, collar, and lead from the basket, carried them over to him, and laid them at his feet. There’d been perilously few times in his life when he left at a loss for words, but he’d be damned if this wasn’t one of them.

‘Master?’ she faintly inquired while peering up at him.

Unable to keep himself from beaming, he cocked his head. “Yes?”

‘I hate to ask, but would you do the honors?’ she continued as she lifted her head and closed her eyes.

He sank to one knee, picked up her collar, and chuckled. She’d put a lot of thought and effort into this, that was for certain. The choker she’d purchased, being the same vibrant pink as the rest of her attire, had a golden badge with her name on one side and his name and contact information on the reverse.

As he fastened the collar around her neck, it became difficult to doubt her. Her use of hexes was gone, she posed no physical threat whatsoever, and she’d even procured a tag denoting that she was, for all intents and purposes, his property. While it was jarring to consider, the facts spoke for themselves - she’d admitted defeat.

“Give me your paw,” he instructed.

Obeying him without question, she obediently allowed him to fit the harness around her torso. The only problem he could foresee, apart from having to go out and purchase some food for her, was that he didn’t know what to do. He’d won, she’d lost, and their little game was at an end.

Leaning over to clip the lead to her collar, he slowed when something nestled at the bottom of the basket caught his eye. “What’s that?”

‘I nearly forgot!’ she chirped. ‘I thought you might like the opportunity to show off your prized pet, master.’

Extending an arm and retrieving a piece of paper from the basket, he pursed his lips. The canine accessories were a fine and necessary touch, although the flier she’d brought him was just gilding the lily. Evidently, there was a dog show being held in Manehattan which just so happened to be starting that very morning.

“This can’t be a coincidence,” he mumbled while casting an inquisitorial eye upon her.

‘Guilty,’ she tittered. ‘Were it not for hearing about that little event, I wouldn’t have had the inspiration to yield myself to you in such an appropriate way.’

As he looked back at the flier, a moment of pure genius came to him. The dog show would be the perfect way to test her. Rising up and turning, he marched back into his home and nearly dragged her along with him.

“We’re going to that event, and you’re going to at least place in the top five,” he announced.

‘I - uh…’ she wavered, her voice wracked with unease. ‘Is…is that wise?’

Leading her into his room, he released her leash and crossed to his dresser. “Wise or not, it’s going to happen.”

According to the leaflet, there wasn’t much time to spare. With less than an hour before the show was set to begin, he was going to have to get dressed, transport the two of them to Manehattan, and register her quickly. After donning some underwear, a pair of pants, and socks, he turned to his closet and froze.

“What are you doing?”

Wantonly sniffing his bed, specifically the approximate area his crotch tended to rest on, she stood with her rear leveled at him. ‘It smells so, so much better with his new nose…’

He wanted to admonish or belittle her, yet the sight of her nethers upended his thoughts in their entirety. The dark, slickened flesh of her pussy was engorged and pulsing in tune with her heartbeat, while her sextet of nipples were spectacularly erect. Disgust at her lecherous actions welled within him, though it was tainted by ~ what? Amusement? Fascination? Shaking his head, he stomped to his closet and fetched a shirt.

Sahira turned her head, watched him disappear into his wardrobe, then immediately flopped to her side and cocked a hind leg. Being informed that she would be brought to the dog show to perform hadn’t been in her plans, but she was elated that he wanted to show her off. Lowering her head, she lapped at her snatch.

“I can hear you in here,” he shouted.

‘I can’t help it, master,’ she thought back at him. ‘This is as close as I’ll ever get to ever feeling your sensual touch…’

Cracking one eye, she peeked over and found him watching her from the threshold. The look of disdain on his face was made all the more hilarious by a more telling part of him. Hidden away within his slacks, his stallionhood twitched and swelled ever so slightly.

“If you don’t disappoint me, I may - may be generous enough to get you a sex-toy of some sort so you can sate yourself,” he huffed, seating himself beside her while he put on his dress shoes.

‘As an alternative, you can always find a hellhound stud for me,’ she flippantly remarked as she continued licking her cunt. ‘Just know that I’d be thinking of you when I’m knotted and bred with a litter of pups.’

His lip curled and his nostrils flared. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Though you may be beneath me in every conceivable way, especially now, you and your womb are mine to do with as I so choose ~ am I clear?”

‘Crystal,’ she purred. Hopping up and pouncing on him, she tackled him onto his back and began licking his face. ‘I’m so fortunate to have a stern master. Whatever would I do without you?’

Staving her off, he pushed her away and drew a hand over his saliva and nectar-streaked face. “As you are currently, either in a pound or being sold off to some pony.”

‘Then I’m even more grateful,’ she gleefully responded. Wriggling her head under his forearm, she shot her tongue into his muzzle.

The impromptu kiss, laced with her juices, crossed a line. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he lifted her from off himself, sat up, and placed her on the floor. A bit of affection between somepony and their pet was expected, although there were limits to what anypony could or would tolerate.

‘My apologies,’ she whined as she fidgeted and pinned her tail. ‘Between these alien instincts and this insufferable heat, I’m not feeling like myself…’

“Well you had best get ahold of them, because that is not going to happen again,” he harrumphed. Getting up and closing one hand around a talisman hanging around his neck, he took up her lead and stepped to her side. “And don’t get too friendly with the other dogs.”

‘No promises,’ she giggled.

The transition from being in Shaka’s room to standing in the parking lot of a convention center was instantaneous and a bit less pleasant than her preferred means of teleportation. Steadying herself and taking a second for her equilibrium to adjust, she surveyed her surroundings. Though they’d only just arrived, the smell of ponies and canines wafted to her sensitive nostrils.

“Come,” he commanded while lightly tugging her lead.

Strutting at his side, she put a swing in her hips. It had been ages since she’d adopted a quadrupedal form, but it was like many things in life - once you’ve gotten enough practice with it, it comes naturally. She slipped furtive glances to his groin while she walked and wondered if he truly was above becoming amorous with a mere beast.

“I - yes, hello,” Shaka began as he approached a staff member lingering by the expansive structure’s main entryway. “I was wondering if…”

Ignoring him, she peeked through the plate glass separating them from what looked to be hundreds of ponies. Most of those gathered were attendees, those with a fondness for canines, although she could spot a few of her impending competitors. With her exotic breed, keen intellect, and sheer elegance, it would be impossible for her to lose against a bunch of dim-witted animals - still, she was looking forward to what would most definitely be a day to remember for everypony.

“Thank you so much,” Shaka concluded. Shifting his focus down to her, while holding some paperwork in his free hand, he grinned. “Ready to show all those pups up, Sahira?”

‘They won’t know what hit them,’ she conceitedly mentally breathed.

Her mother had once told her that it would be a cold day in the hells when she was forthright with anypony, and she could all but sense a chill air rushing through the infernal abyss. She hadn’t lied a single time that morning, although she may have twisted the truth just a shade. The experience of being rutted by a genuine, ancient stallion had been transcendent, vying for a top place amongst all the passionate encounters she’d ever had, and there would be no way for her to repay Shaka for that - not truly.

Trotting down a hallway and up to a guard, Shaka displayed the papers in his clutches. “Begging your pardon, but is the contestants’ area this way?”

The pony, a pegasus mare, nodded and pointed further down the corridor. “Big, open door on your left - you can’t miss it.”

Turning her head as she walked, Sahira looked back at the mare. ‘You think it’s true about them ~ you know, that pony mares…?’

“Ah yes, that persistent rumor,” Shaka muttered, keeping his voice just loud enough for her to hear him. “From what I’ve gathered, it’s largely slander. Pony mares are as or even more exacting with their preferences than our kind - excluding yourself, of course.”

‘Well that’s disappointing,’ she groused. ‘It’s my firm opinion that every mare should be open to new experiences, and I can attest that canines giving yourself to a canine can be quite stimulating.’

He stumbled and nearly tripped over her own feet as she spoke. “You jest - please tell me you jest.”

‘And why would I?’ she smoothly pressed. ‘If you say you haven’t at least thought of broadening your horizons in an erotic sense, I’d call you a liar.’

His revulsion was palpable. “I haven’t and I’m not lying. I’ve sampled all manner of sensual delights, but only with creatures that are at least somewhat close to my level of intellect.”

‘Heh,’ she grunted. ‘So how does you turning yourself into a feral stallion factor into that equation ~ hmm?’

“You are and, so far as I can tell, always were an animal; the only difference now is that your form mirrors the twisted creature lurking beneath your skin, mongrel,’ he quietly snarled. Lifting his head and looking to an open set of double doors some short distance away, he gave a small yank to her leash. “Be a good girl and be quiet.”

She meekly nodded and kept her lips sealed. The wondrous, magnificent dullard was so daft that he’d either forgotten or neglected one crucial detail - she couldn’t speak. Anypony who saw him yammering on to her would think he’s stark raving mad, holding a one-sided conversation with a dog, and she had every intention of exploiting that to its fullest potential.

Slowing as she peered into a cavernous, open room full of ponies and a wide array of different dogs, she wagged her tail. ‘Master, may I mingle a bit?’

“Absolutely not,” he harrumphed. “You will stay at my side and behave yourself. An animal’s conduct reflects its owner - accordingly, I’ll not have you making me look bad.”

She reared her head back and held a forepaw to her bosom. ‘I would never do such a thing, master! Just you watch, all these ponies will be smitten with your loyal, well-trained, gorgeous bitch.’

Nodding, Shaka continued onward and toward a refreshment table. He’d only been half-serious about her winning any sort of prize at the show, being keenly aware of how exacting Equestrian standards were when it came to dog breeds, but he would not tolerate any misconduct on her part. As he peeked down at her, his eyes were drawn to her gently swaying hips and long, slender legs.

“Watch it,” a stallion carped as he nearly bumped into him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

Forcing himself to look ahead and away from the infernal hound tailing him, he quietly growled. What was going on with him? He could forgive himself for being slightly inattentive, given the early hour, the whirlwind of his morning, and spontaneously flinging himself and his newfound dog into a competition, but running into somepony in a crowded room was an unparalleled level of absentmindedness. He halted and massaged one temple while gathering his thoughts.

‘Well hello there, handsome…’ she cooed from behind him.

Whipping around, assuming she was speaking to his flawlessly toned glutes, he was dismayed to discover that she was talking to a large, muscular doberman pinscher. The dog wasn’t quite as big as she was, although its brawny physique, brushed coat, and pointed ears gave it a commanding presence. Preventing himself from chastising her, he noticed what part of the canine held her attention.

Listing to one side, she licked her chops while ogling the crimson length peeking from the doberman’s sheath. ‘I see you have fine tastes, Jager,’ she casually noted. After a moment, she gasped. ‘Goodness - so forward! Well, since you asked nicely…’

Shaka’s blood ran hot as she wheeled around, spread her hind legs, and invitingly wiggled her rump. Whore - shameless, debased slut. They’d been at the venue for just a handful of minutes, and he’d only just learned that she was so irredeemable that she’d let herself be fucked by actual dogs while in her marish form, yet she was showing herself off like a desperate nymphomaniac for some mongrel she’d only just met.

“No,” he rumbled. Hauling on her lead and drawing her to his feet, he smiled up at the doberman’s owner. “You’ll have to excuse her, she’s just friendly.”

‘And with a womb yearning to be used,’ she added. ‘Oh Jager, you tease! Of course I’d be willing to have an accident and let you mount me on the showroom floor! I can’t speak for you, but it’s so much hotter when I know I’m being watched…’

“Will you not shut up?!” Shaka raged.

Pulling her leash so hard that she yelped and was thrown off balance, he stopped dead. A deathly silence fell over the room, everypony was looking at him, and he’d just made himself out to be a poor, if not outright abusive owner. Warily smiling, he knelt down and pulled her to his chest while stroking her back.

“She’s quite a handful when she’s in heat,” he uneasily laughed. “Aren’t you? Aren’t you, you scamp?”

‘I know I am,’ she admitted. Shifting and burying her snout in his groin, she sniffed and wagged her tail. ‘If only there was something you could do to keep these distracting thoughts out of this dumb, lustful brain of mine, master…”

She could communicate with animals as well as Shaka could, meaning she couldn’t without spellcraft, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t pretend to have the ability. The way he’d snapped at her, making a wholly uncalled for scene, smacked of something more than irritation. He wouldn’t say it, and he’d surely try to hide it, but she’d wager her plan was already paying off.

Shaka tussled her ears and smiled warmly, until the contestants and their dogs went back to what they were doing before his small outburst. “Unless you want me to make your life exponentially more difficult, you’ll remain quiet until this is over,” he whispered. Staying mute in every sense of the word, she nodded. “Good - now then, the competition is split into three categories: an obstacle course, an inspection by the judges, and a freestyle component. Do as you're told, don’t talk back, and we’ll be sure to win.”

She nodded again and slowly wagged her tail while he walked to and seated himself in a chair by one wall. While the notion of beating her legitimately sickened him, holding those who abuse animals in contempt, he would find creative ways to, if need be, punish her in the future. As he closed his eyes and settled in, waiting for their names to be called, the sounds of the crowded arena drifted to his ears.

With nothing to do but bide his time, his imagination wandered. The taste of Sahira’s sex, piquant and tart, still lingered on his palate, while the scent of her arousal clung to his sinuses. He’d never viewed canines as anything more than beloved, trusted companions, and he most certainly hadn’t thought of them in a carnal way, but there was something about his bitch that was vulgar in the most titillating.

Surreptitiously peeking down at her, his eyes meandered over her body. She was normally quite tight, her marehood snug and vice-like, and her velvety depths caressed his stallionhood in an incredible way. Considering she’d lost half or more of her mass, and that canines had a body temperature several degrees higher than that of ponies, it was entirely possible that pinning her down and fucking her raw would be as good or better than…

Drawing his hands over his face, he dragged his mind from the obscene, compelling morass it had been sinking into. What was wrong with him? Sahira may have been willing to degrade herself by letting anything with a dick plow her, but he had standards - moreover, he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction she so dearly pined for. He swallowed hard, having caught himself subconsciously sneaking a glance to her backside, and felt his stallionhood harden.

“Shaka and - um - Sahira?” a voice called out from the far end of the room.

“Coming,” Shaka shouted back. “Let’s show everypony what you got, dear.”

Skipping up to his side, she kept pace. ‘Like I need reminding…’

He followed the employee down a short, unremarkable passageway and into the showroom proper. While the building wasn’t as large as a colosseum or sports stadium, the spacious floor was lined with collapsible bleachers, chairs, and dozens upon dozens of spectators. Briefly inspecting the obstacles, things so simple that a foal could do them, he chuckled.

“And you understand the rules?” the pony attendant asked.

“Of course,” he sighed. “And so does she,” he added, nodding down at Sahira.

Setting her furry brow, she kept her eyes forward. ‘Run through them in ascending order, return to you, and sit ~ right?’

“Right,” he affirmed. “Go on his mark, dearest.”

The moment the pony waved his hand, appearing confused that Shaka wouldn’t lead her through the course, Sahira took off like a bullet. Her agility and speed were jaw-dropping, being both faster and leagues more nimble than any common hound, and she finished the entire course in just over a minute. With their mouths agape, the trio of judges gawked as she looked over at them and winked.

Turning to the three dumbfounded ponies, Shaka smirked. “Would you like to conduct the examination now?”

The judges pulled themselves together, jotted Sahira’s time down on the clipboards they carried, and walked over to him. With the race concluded, and with her time rocketing to the top of the leaderboard overhead, her evaluation was next. Hellhounds, much like every other breed of canine, were expected to have certain key characteristics, and points would be assigned to her from those characteristics.

“Head up, shoulders back,” Shaka told her, being somewhat familiar with the process.

She did as she was told, standing statuesque while the judges poked, prodded, and touched her. While he wasn’t concerned about how high her score would be, never having seen a hellhound so flawless in his life, he grew increasingly perturbed with how she was being touched. The trio of ponies smiled and murmured conspiratorially to one another, as their fingers and hands glided over her frame.

‘M…master,’ she stammered, ‘o…one of them is…’

He knew what she’d been about to tell him, as he’d watched the judge fondle her loins with his bare, unworthy hand. There was no reason for him to be upset, especially because the pony had done the very same exam on countless other dogs at countless other shows, yet what began as mild displeasure blossomed into overt anger.

How dare this pony lay a finger on her? She was his bitch, his property, and nopony, especially some wretched Equestrian, had a right to touch her but him! Clenching and unclenching his fists, he readied a hex of suffering to unleash on the trio of disgraceful judges who…

“I…I don’t know what to say,” one of the ponies breathed. Turning to Shaka, he extended a hand. “Sir, she is without fault.”

“Agreed,” the other two judges concurred in nearly perfect unison.

Still fuming, Shaka reigned himself in. “Thank you. May we start the final act?”

The ponies nodded and shuffled back to give him plenty of space to work with. He wanted nothing more than to be done with the competition and retire for the rest of the day with his hound, but he wasn’t about to leave without claiming his trophy and any winnings. Shying away from Sahira, he waved a hand to the open floor.

“Have fun,” he grunted.

‘Gladly,’ she confidently hummed.

He’d predicted her presentation would be fairly blasé, likely her traipsing about in a circle or howling some melody, although she instantly blew his every single onlookers’ expectations out of the water. Instead of something charming or heartwarming, she proceeded to put on a show that would have given most strippers a run for their money. Never in a million years would he have guessed that a canine would gyrate and move in such a provocative, sinful way, yet her body flowed like water poured from the cup of Venus herself.

Lowering herself into a full split, she rolled onto her back and pawed at her teats. ‘Take me…’

He took a step toward her, went rigid, and forced himself to remain still. It dawned on him that he’d been right all along, that she’d lulled him into a false sense of security with her charm and wiles, yet his fury was crushed beneath the growing, unstoppable weight of his desires. Preventing himself from pouncing on her, he grimaced and quaked with impotent indignation.

‘Take me,’ she smoothly repeated, ‘or one of them will.’

Following her gaze, Shaka spotted several stallions who’d gotten up from their seats. Each of the ponies was sporting wood, their erections straining against their pants or shorts, and every single one of them was drooling at Sahira. Realizing that he couldn’t stop all of them, and that she’d gleefully let any one of the studs screw her, he snapped.

With a flex of his groin, his stallionhood tore its way from his trousers and into the air. Had he the faintest inkling that this was what she’d do, artfully seducing him and twisting him to her will, he would have given her a swift kick in the ass and been done with her - sadly, he’d passed the point of no return. As he grabbed her by one horn and pulled her to face his turgid cock, the crowd gasped.

“She’s mine,” he seethed.

He locked eyes with her while he fell to his knees and drove his length into her muzzle. Fuck these ponies, fuck the stupid show, and fuck her in particular. The crafty bitch had intended for this to happen, weaving whatever dark spell she had on him to erode his sensibilities, and he was going to make her pay for it. Using her horns for handlebars, he hilted her snout and fucked her at full, unrelenting force.

Sahira had taken every precaution imaginable for this moment, altering her biology to survive without air for an extended period of time while also making every tissue within her remarkably rubbery, though the sheer vehemence with which he rutted her face was so harsh that pushed her preparations to their limit. With her brain rattling around in her skull, she sputtered and sent ropes of spittle from past her lips. Everything had played out magnificently, better than she could have ever dreamed, and things were only just getting started.

The best part about her ploy was that she hadn’t had to do anything to get what she wanted. Hellhounds, as with all demonic entities, were manifestations of the various cardinal sins, and it wasn’t by chance that she’d pulled a few strings to temporarily become one of lust. Simply being near Shaka had been enough to chip away at his resolve - add to that his insufferable hubris and need to conquer her, and the deal was sold as soon as he’d rubbed her cute little head.

As she weathered an orgasm and gushed nectar to the floor, her legs collapsed beneath her. She’d taken a few liberties with her metamorphosis, making her gullet as sensitive as the depths of her cunt, but that wasn’t what got her off. Shaka’s reputation, what little there was of it, would soon be ruined, and he would live out the rest of his short, meaningless life bearing the label as a reprobate and hopeless degenerate.

“Fucking whore,” Shaka boomed. “I’ll show all these ponies that you’re my bitch!”

His resentment elevated his bliss by an unprecedented degree. Plowing her as hard as he could was cathartic, in spite of her lack of struggling, and the sensations she afforded were beyond compare. Neither too snug nor too loose, and hotter than the pits of the abyss, her quaking gullet fueled his desires and saw him yearning for more. Pulling her to himself, he slammed her nose against his crotch.

He was beyond hope, any chance of salvation was gone, and he’d deal with the inevitable consequences of his actions later - for now, he was going to screw the harridan hound until she’d blacked out. Wrenching his dick free, he spun her around, took her hind legs in his hands, and simultaneously thrust his hips while hauling her to himself.

In the blink of an eye, every inch of his shaft was entombed in her spasming cunt. Railing her without a shred of remorse, he looked over and waved a hand. A number of guards had been thoughtless enough to approach him, likely in an attempt to end his shameless, exhibitionistic display, although they dropped to the floor like flies. He would stop when he wanted to stop, and not beforehand.

Sahira’s bestial howls rang out over the murmurs of disgust and whispers from the throng. Like wheat from the chaff, most of the ponies in attendance had left, too revolted to stay, leaving only the most perverted souls to witness the debauchery. Shaka would deal with the onlookers in due time, using his magic to wipe any memory of the event from their minds, although it was a shame that they wouldn’t be able to enjoy such a riveting experience for long.

It was of little consequence how Sahira had tempted him, because her balmy pussy and whimpers of ecstasy erased any thought of it from him. His mind was all but gone, rendered down to raw feelings and the insatiable need to breed his bitch, and it brought him to a swift, inglorious, merciless end. After no more than a few minutes, making him appear like a two-pump chump, he bellowed and came.

Thick jizz spurted from her convulsing depths, slathering his torn pants and thighs with a cocktail of her juices and his essence, while he heaved air into his chest. For as full as she was, so bloated with spunk that she looked pregnant, and with as many times as she’d cum herself, she should have been unable to move, yet she sprang to her feet, smiled over her shoulder at him, and dashed for the nearest exit once his orgasm had started to subside.

Though he dearly wished to be upset, the euphoric daze that settled over him was too powerful. His clothes were in tatters, he was drenched from the waist down in seed and her canine fluids, and he couldn’t think clearly, yet he weakly smiled. He’d get the bitch back, that was a certainty, although when and how his retribution would be delivered would have to wait until he’d cleaned himself up and addressed the larger issues at hand…