She came in low over the fields, taking cover behind the rise of the hill, trying to catch only the barest glimpse of her target without being revealed. Applejack had been located in a far field, working. The plan was a go.
There was no black jumpsuit this time, because it wasn’t dark. It was morning, birds were chirping, and the ordinariness of Sweet Apple Acres stabbed Rainbow Dash’s heart.
She flew so silently that a passing bird came right up to her, only to squawk and fly away in alarm, for Dash’s face was drawn and bitter, and she hadn’t slept. She’d been flying around, trying to make her plan, and had barely set hoof on the ground since leaving Pinkie’s.
Worse, Rainbow had not noticed some of the damage done by two successive escapes through glass windows. Her face and body were cut up, dried blood leaving a mark under one eye and across her forehead. The hapless bird had never seen anything so intimidating, and flew off in a panic to warn Fluttershy.
Rainbow Dash ignored it. Her eyes were fixed on the farmhouse she’d called another home for weeks and weeks. As she neared the place, she saw that the window she’d smashed had been cleaned up—it wasn’t replaced, but the broken glass was gone, the area tidy. A possible entry point? The trouble was, to fly through it, she’d have to fold her wings almost completely, and go through like a projectile. Dash wasn’t sure if she could recover fast enough not to hit the floor—and she couldn’t make a sound, that was critical.
The door was cracked slightly open. Rainbow Dash’s heart thumped. That would work. She could go through with it. There was no turning back.
Drifting nearer, flapping with just her wingtips, she peered through the open, glassless window, and through the crack in the door. There was nopony in sight—now or never, Dash. She pushed the door gently, and it swung silently open. Rainbow had noticed that all the door hinges in Sweet Apple Acres were oiled, and appreciated that fact better than ever, now that she was bent on larceny.
She flew up the stairs as silently as an owl, a blue shadow drifting through the once-friendly hallway. Dash was pretty sure only she could hear her heart pounding.
The bed wasn’t made very neatly. Rainbow Dash refused to think about that, or look too closely at it. Instead, she zeroed in on the bedside table. That little drawer, with its little pull-ring for pony teeth…
The drawer slid outwards. Jackpot. Dash gazed down at the magic bit—hers, as much as Applejack’s, the improved copy of the one she herself had brought to town in the first place.
A gentle clink of teeth collecting their payload. A soundless extrusion of stallion-meat. Rainbow Dash grinned wickedly around the gleaming metal in her mouth—and then panicked, because she’d heard a loud snort from down the hall. The house wasn’t empty. Since when would it be empty? How many ponies could legitimately be wandering in at any moment?
Dash barely restrained herself from slamming into walls in her haste. She flew down the stairs and straight out the door, dick flopping in the breeze, and didn’t stop until she was out of the line of sight for anypony either in Sweet Apple Acres, the fields around it, or indeed anywhere near it.
Back at Sweet Apple Acres, the door swung wide, letting in the morning air. In Applejack’s bedroom, the drawer hung open, robbed of its precious contents—or at least of some of the precious things kept in Applejack’s bedroom. Dash had missed another precious thing that was hers.
Tucked under the pillow, barely visible and entirely overlooked, lay one blue feather. It peeked out as if furtively hiding—or as if it had been furtively hidden, that morning, by a sorely conflicted mare who could not help sneaking up to her room with the unexpected treasure, and concealing it before returning to her cleaning.
There was a reason she could not resist doing this, though she’d cursed herself bitterly for it.
The concealed blue feather was faintly scented of the soft, silky, cerulean undercoat that itself was concealed beneath Rainbow Dash’s coarse chromatic mane. She’d had no chance in the face of that.
Across the fields, Applejack stubbornly labored on.
The griffin outpost wasn’t far. Rainbow Dash expected it was only minutes away. She’d seen some of the telltales—griffins liked to sharpen their claws on trees. If they wanted to hide their presence from prey, they would sharpen their claws on the tops of trees. A regular pony might not see the result, but a flying pony had no trouble spotting it.
The adrenaline always kicked in around this point. Flying prey, Gilda used to say. What’s wrong with this picture? Not enough pussy, that’s what’s wrong with it, Dash would reply. And Gilda would roll over, wriggling bonelessly, and sneer, says you…
There were three reasons Rainbow Dash mostly didn’t fear flying into a griffin outpost.
One was Princess Celestia. Alicorn magic, to a non-magic-using species, was unthinkably powerful. They had trouble even comprehending the limits of her power. To be fair, thought Rainbow Dash, ponies weren’t too clear on the limits of her power either. It was easy to assume her omnipotent. It was convenient that the griffins believed it. Princess Celestia had even forced a truce between the griffins and the Diamond Dogs.
The second reason was cultural. Griffins had been learning tolerance—grudgingly. There were limits to this, and Rainbow made a point of not trusting it too far. Years ago, she’d had a flight school acquaintance who flew with the griffins, including some that Gilda warned Dash about. She’d seen that pegasus guy fly away with three female griffins—but nopony had ever seen him again, after that day. Gilda had refused to inquire. “Are you fucking crazy?” were her specific words. Dash had decided she wasn’t fucking crazy.
The third reason was personal. Dash glanced back at her wings, her passport to respect among many griffins. If you could outfly them—and she could—you could pass among them as you pleased. Word got around. Gilda had reluctantly translated the epithet Dash had earned, after demanding that she not take it the wrong way. It was idiomatic, Gilda had said—part of it was a term that effectively meant ‘not a griffin’, nothing more.
Rainbow Dash was ‘Fast Food’, in Griffin.
To the griffins, moving things were either Griffin, or Food, in their harsh squawky language. There were many qualifying words to shade the meaning this way and that. Princess Celestia was Choke On This Food, implying that she was far too big and threatening to attempt. Dash was Fast Food, also known as That Food That Annoyingly Gets Away. Gilda had looked abashed, revealing these griffinian secrets to which pony ears normally weren’t privy.
Dash considered this nickname, Food That Annoyingly Gets Away, and had suggested they test that assumption—lying back, her legs falling open. And Gilda had eaten well, indeed…
Dash glanced back at her wings again, and did a double-take. No, no, no… She had not preened since the previous day, and her wings were a mess. She was even feeling the loss of lift as a result, and simply out-powering the problem. Though she’d get to the outpost with no trouble, she was going to visit winged creatures. They were shockingly weird about wings, treating them like they were insignificant, but that was no reason to appear among them looking indecent—and Rainbow swooped down on a suitable-looking tree.
She barely had time to register the white feather poking from behind the leaves before the griffin was on her, beak gaping, claws bared and slashing.
“GYAAAH!” screamed Dash, as a claw tore at her neck. She flapped spasmodically, trying to whirl in midair. She kicked out, and heard a squawk—and then, she was facing away from him, and the sky beckoned. Her mighty wings revved up like a hummingbird’s—and she was gone, a chromatic bang knocking the hapless griffin back before he could begin to pursue.
Rainbow Dash glanced back, knowing an outpost perimeter guard wouldn’t be able to match her skills—and seeing no sign of the guy, she quit cranking on the power before she ran out of atmosphere, and arced into high air from her momentum alone, her heart pounding.
The sky hinted at being a blue band around the world. Adrenaline did amazing things. Once, she’d used her wingpower to try and see how high she could arc, but it had made her feel sick. She wouldn’t have guessed there could be such a thing as too much sky, but apparently there was.
Dash panted, and not just from high air. That had been too close.
From far above the treetops, she thought she could see the perimeter. It had been carelessness that got her—griffins marked their territory with treetop leaves. Specifically, they bit notches out of particular leaves on the treetop, so they could see whose area it was, and they were just as fierce with each other as they were with intruders.
She squinted. Damned birdkitties and their eagle eyes. How was a pony supposed to spot a few leaves nipped into un-leaflike symbols and shapes, against all those other leaves? It made sense to the griffins, though, and she’d been a fool not to check the tree at a distance.
The guard had withdrawn to his sentry point. Rainbow knew he wasn’t likely to pursue her—she wouldn’t be considered a threat to their territory, not like another griffin might. She’d simply triggered his attack reflex, and the griffins had a tendency to look the other way on those occasions, as flying ponies had long known. It was safer to avoid them. Rainbow Dash wasn’t good at ‘safer’.
Rainbow hovered high above the trees, studying them. There didn’t seem to be any shaped leaves in the vicinity. It was usually three leaves at the crown of the tree, spaced in a triangle, and five around the outside about halfway down. That was enough for the griffins. They didn’t mark any leaves lower than halfway, because they didn’t give a shit about anything on the ground, no matter what it was. Rainbow admired that—or, she’d used to admire that, then she’d forgot it, and now she wanted to be reminded of it.
She approached a tree without incident, flitted through a break in the foliage, and found a crook high in the treetrunk to rest. Not to feel safe, since being in open air was what made her feel safe, but because she couldn’t very well preen while flying, and she had a feeling she was in bad shape. Her neck stung, and she thought she felt something wrong with her left wingbase as well, which could be very bad news. It hadn’t stopped her, though.
Her neck was bleeding—but not badly. Closer inspection revealed that the griffin’s claw had only scratched her, and that her chest had many other small cuts and scratches, which Dash figured out were from the two escapes through panes of glass.
Rainbow Dash turned her attention to her wings, and froze. There was blood there too. The griffin had got her wing. She squeezed her eyes shut in shock and rage for a moment, and when she looked again, her face dropped, and she blushed in shame.
It wasn’t about the injury from the griffin. That was a surface scratch, and it wasn’t her fault, apart from her incautiousness with the tree. Rainbow cringed, realizing that she hadn’t preened for days. It had all been so distracting. She hadn’t so much as looked at her wings, though she’d felt the irregularities, the feathers slightly out of place.
Rainbow began working at it, her heart pounding again, using teeth and tongue to self-groom, cleaning up the minor injury from the griffin. She got her left wing all done, and moved to her right wing, breathing more heavily, feeling panicky as she worked her way up from the base. As she groomed the spot on her wingbase where Applejack’s teeth and lips had so often been, Rainbow trembled, but she pressed on with determination, letting nothing stop her… until she reached her upper coverts, and stared, wide-eyed.
One feather was still out of place, and she’d not touched it.
It was the one Applejack had tugged, that day. Rainbow could still see the wicked, fond look in the country mare’s eyes, could still feel her insides doing joyous flips and jolts at the naughty attentions—and the feather was still out of place, days later.
It had been the last time Applejack had touched her wing, with love.
Trembling worse, Rainbow craned her neck, baring careful, gentle teeth—set that last feather where it belonged—and gave it a lick to smooth it down, like nothing had ever happened to it.
Then, she burst into tears, wailing and clinging to the tree, heedless of the nearby griffins. She hung on for dear life, not trusting herself to fly, blind with anguish as the feelings stomped her—and when she was done, she stared at nothing, feeling emptier and more out of place than she’d ever felt in her life.
She didn’t dare look at her wonderful, powerful wings, those incredible yet once more orphaned wings without anyone to offer them devotion. All the other pegasi had found mates, it seemed. Rainbow never did, even as she tried to make her wings so incredible that some pegasus would have to be captivated by them. Perhaps she was scaring them off—it had been an earth pony, who couldn’t be jealous of her, who’d been the one.
Past tense. Had been.
Rainbow Dash’s face worked with grief as she choked that thought down. There would be no turning back, she thought. Some part of her had known all along.
She wiped a tear with the back of a hoof, and it came away red, which shocked her. Was she weeping blood? For a moment, she thought that she must be, and that would be just perfect—and then she realized her face stung, and that perhaps the glass-window cuts weren’t only on her body.
Dash leapt from the tree feeling, in spite of everything, a sense of satisfaction that her wings felt back to a hundred percent again. You had to preen. It wasn’t just for looks, it made a big difference in your aerodynamics if you were performance flying. It was easy for her to forget that when her capabilities were so exceptional, but Dash was glad she’d put herself through it, for it seemed possible that she’d need to be at a hundred percent when among the griffins.
She flew off in search of a stream or pond, rejected a brook for being too rippley, and finally found a small stream whose banks spread out, providing areas of nearly still water—and she looked at herself, and gasped. Streaks of blood and tears! Her mane was a total mess, way worse than usual, and she looked like she’d been dragged backwards through hedges while fucking.
Dash considered this for a moment, and a bitter little smile crept onto her face.
She didn’t wash her face, or straighten her mane. She wet a hoof, and carefully tried to wipe away the signs of tears, while leaving the signs of mayhem intact. It was difficult—she lost one streak of dried blood on her cheek, but was able to retain another, and the mark on her forehead was no trouble to keep.
Rainbow regarded herself in the calm stream. She adjusted her mane to look more wind-blown, and looked again.
She looked bad-ass. Just what she’d need, too.
She took to the air again, heading straight into griffin territory.
“Hey, look!” squawked the male griffin, with a startled flap of his wings.
“…’Sup?” said Rainbow Dash, trotting blithely into the encampment, her little saddlebags jouncing cheerfully.
Another griffin stared. “I remember you. Fast… uh, you’re the pony that can fly.”
“Nah,” said Dash. “Lots of ponies can fly. I’m the one that can outfly YOU.”
Attention gathered, the griffins drawing closer. The second griffin glowered. “Bah. Right. The only one, I might add.”
“Oh, you mean the one and only?” replied Dash, causing a stir among the feathery, tail-lashing crowd.
The first griffin was studying her. “Hey, who were you fighting?”
Dash smirked. “How do you know I was FIGHTING?” she said—and raised an eyebrow suggestively.
The crowd blinked, as one, and then burst into wild laughter—Rainbow’s remark was clearly the funniest thing they’d ever heard, and she grinned, knowing she had them. Pegasi didn’t usually understand or sympathize with griffin ways. She thanked Celestia that she’d made the right judgement call—sure enough, her clawed and disheveled state read as ‘sexy times’ to the griffins, and though this would cause its own problems, it made for a hell of an icebreaker.
“Well hey, baby, what about round two?”
“Playing with your food,” teased another.
A third griffin sneered, “Hey, if you like that sort of thing…”
Before they got too carried away with it, Rainbow interrupted. “You seen Gilda?”
The third griffin was female, her head covered with golden feathers, her copper eyes mean. She began, “Oh, it figures you’d be after the biggest diam…”
“Shut it, Wileen!” came a voice from above.
Out of the tree canopy came a familiar form—Gilda, descending like Fate, glaring at the hapless Wileen who stared back with open hostility. Gilda landed, and glowered at Dash.
“What the fuck are you doing here, dweeb-pony?”
Dash yawned. “Not what, so much as who. Know what I mean?”
“I doubt it,” snapped Gilda.
Dash was unperturbed. She knew the griffins too well. “I got something to show you. It’s new.”
“A new trick?”
“Better than that. A new toy.”
The griffins stirred, interested. Gilda didn’t budge. “What do you mean, a new toy?”
“Just what I said. I’m, I’m… I’m the agent for the designer. Yeah! We’re looking to open up new distribution in griffin markets. It ought to do really well. I thought I could use you as a reference.”
Gilda stared at Dash critically. “A reference?”
“An example,” explained Rainbow Dash.
“Of how the new toy turns griffins to quivering puddles,” said Dash blithely, to chuckles from the onlookers.
Gilda glared hard at her, in that so-familiar way. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah. Unless you don’t think you’re up to it?”
Gilda sat on her feline haunches, staring into space, as the crowd watched her and Rainbow Dash face off. Then, she turned, and began to stalk off into the forest—and called back over her shoulder.
“If you try to follow me, I will kick your ass.”
Rainbow grinned harder—and began to walk after her—and the crowd stirred with more chuckles, approving noises, cries of ‘Woo!’. They loved her. She’d correctly identified a griffin come-on in pure, untranslated form—and responded. And from the looks of her, she knew exactly what she was in for, and liked it that way. They loved her for it.
All but one. Wileen. As the others chuckled, she muttered a sneering aside.
That stopped Gilda. She froze, and then turned slowly to glare at her tormentor. “She’s a pony, dumbass.”
“Big deal,” yawned Wileen. “If you ask me, that’s even worse.”
“How would YOU know?” retorted Gilda.
Wileen smirked, fluttering her wings demurely. “Males tell me—when they turn to me for a decent lay. You know what they say about diamondheads, don’t you?”
“Oh, please share,” sneered Gilda. “Whatever do they say?”
“Easy to get kittens out of,” smirked Wileen, “but no fun putting them in, anymore.” She shrugged, looking self-satisfied. The crowd murmured.
“Wileen, you featherbrain,” said Gilda pityingly. “I guess it’s been a long time since you’ve seen dick, huh? In case you didn’t notice—this pony’s a girl. And she’s a total bitch, I might add—and I haven’t seen her for quite a while, in case you were wondering.”
“Well, if you want to waste your time with girls…”
“She does!” came a voice from the crowd. Gilda glared in its direction, and then turned and called scornfully over her shoulder.
“Don’t even fucking think of following me, Dash, or I’ll kick your ass… twice!”
She stalked off, slinking very low to the ground with her tail lashing, to admiring glances from some of the crowd of griffins—and Rainbow walked deliberately after her, to more cries of ‘Woo!’ from the crowd. Wileen ignored them. Soon the other griffins were lost to sight.
So was Gilda. Dash peered ahead, trying to spot her old schoolfriend, and then caught a blur of motion out of the corner of her eye. She had just enough time to shut her eyes, before Gilda struck, knocking her to the ground and scratching her face.
“Fucker,” snarled Gilda—and cuddled against her.
Dash heaved a breath, getting her bearings—which was always a challenge, with Gilda. “Oh, awesome. I missed you too!”
“Shut the fuck up or I’ll scratch you again. You’ve got a lot of nerve! What got into you, turning you soft like that? I thought I understood you, Dash. Ponyville sucks. It made you fucking weak, and what you did was weak.”
“Yeah, well, I’m sorry, okay?”
“Weak!” snarled Gilda.
Dash thought quickly. “Yeah, well, fuck you too, okay?”
“Like I’d let you. After you turned weak. Fucking pony.” Gilda was trembling, a little. She was still cuddling against Dash.
“That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about,” said Dash. “I’ve got this thing in my bag…”
Gilda blinked, and twisted around to stare at her, honestly surprised. “That wasn’t bullshit? I thought you were bullshitting. It was a good line of it, mind you. You’ve got a new toy? I still have all mine.”
“I really do,” said Rainbow Dash. “Um, though I made up the part about being her agent. But I have it here with me, and I want to fuck you until you can’t walk anymore.”
“Sweet talker,” smirked Gilda. “What kind of thing is it?”
“You’re gonna love this…”
Dash nosed into her saddlebag. “Brace yourself.” She grabbed the bit between her teeth, and reared, right at Gilda, flashing her stallionhood.
The wisdom of this move—or lack of it—suddenly came to mind. Gilda squawked and thrashed back a few feet, staring wildly. “What the hell, Dash?” she cried. Rainbow realized she could as easily have become a clawing frenzy, faster than you could spit a bit.
Dash grinned awkwardly, not wanting to reveal her concern. “Y’ like it?”
Gilda slunk forward, eyes wide in alarm. “Is it fuckin’ real, dude? Hah! Literally a dude, now! How did you do that?”
“Magic,” said Dash. “It’s awesome. I’ll be able to FEEL you.”
Gilda licked her beak. “Assuming I’ll let you get anywhere near me. And ruin me for fuckin’ guys, like Wileen says. Damn it, Dash.”
“You d’nt fuck guys.”
“True,” said Gilda. Her eyes were still wide. “It’s real, huh? But it comes from magic, it goes away again when you spit that thing out, whatever it is?”
“It’s a bit. Gr’ffins d’nt have them. And yeah.”
“Can you feel this?” said Gilda. She slunk forward, her tail held to the side, craned her neck warily, and licked the end of Dash’s cock.
“Mmmm, yeah…” sighed Dash. “Th’ts th’ way…”
Gilda cocked her head, fascinated, considering the flavor. Dash could smell her arousal.
“What about this—can you feel this?” purred Gilda, and her talons reached out to grasp the stallion cock tenderly, yet with a certain… pointy quality.
“Nnngghh!” moaned Dash, growing more erect, something that didn’t escape Gilda.
“And you say it goes away again—it’s not really part of you,” crooned the entranced griffin. “If it’s like that, what would it be like if I decided to…”
Her talons tightened, hard. Her beak dipped down, opening. Dash spit her bit with desperate suddenness, and Gilda’s beak closed on empty air.
“GILDA!” squeaked Rainbow Dash, horrified.
The griffin wasn’t listening, because she was laughing too hard, rolling around on the ground, then pounding it with a balled-up talon-fist. “So close!” she managed.
“No way! No fucking way! How would you like it if I tried that on you, huh?”
“Hey, it goes away, right? Wuss,” chuckled Gilda. “Oh, man! I think maybe we’re even. That was awesome!”
“Yeah,” said Dash, sulking. “Awesome.”
Gilda cackled. “You think it’ll work on griffins?”
“I don’t know. Let’s find out.” Rainbow Dash grinned, all teeth.
“Hey, slow down, you gotta let me play with it first before you eat it. Anyways you’re all fucking vegetarians, you’d just get sick and you know it. Here goes…”
She pounced, and seized the bit in her beak, and then her eyes popped out.
“Lemme see, lemme see!” squeaked Dash, and then she gasped. Gilda’d had the same thought, and she’d rolled over and was eyeing herself, apparently with approval. It was… small. And pointy. And there was something with the texture, it didn’t look properly smooth…
“What the hell is that?” managed Dash.
“It’s dick, dumbass!” said Gilda, around the bit. “Wow, it really worked. That’s the real deal. I can feel the breeze on it. Holy crap.”
“But why…” Dash slunk closer, staring. “Why does the surface look like that?”
Gilda gave her a look. “Do you remember what my tongue feels like?”
“Oh yeah. Oh my gosh yeah. Incredible. So the dick is… scratchy? That’s crazy!”
“Serves our purposes,” said Gilda. “Didn’t you ever notice how wet I get? Our bodies can handle it.”
Dash nodded. “Wow. Can I… taste? Wait a minute. Why are you able to talk so clearly? Us ponies kinda mumble when we’re holding a bit in our teeth.”
Gilda winked. “No teeth. No lips. Noooo problem… and yeah—enjoy.”
Rainbow moved in, wide-eyed. The closer she got, the weirder it seemed. It was an angry red spike of love, like some talon. Rainbow hesitantly licked it, and shuddered. There was something creepy and off about the taste, and the texture scraped her tongue shockingly. She rested her tongue against it, and it felt prickly and wrong. “Uhhh… Gilda, that’s not going in my cunt, babe. I’m not a griffin.”
Indignant, Gilda spat the bit out and began arguing. “Like you’d be any better? I’m not a pony!”
“Yeah, but I don’t go juicy like you do! It’s all thick like grease and stuff, now I know why! I bet you’re like that right now!”
Gilda batted her eyelashes at Dash. “I thought you liked it. I thought you couldn’t get enough of it, craved it.”
“Well, yeah! But that’s why it would work!” protested Dash.
Gilda looked rattled. “Define ‘work’, Dash. This is trouble and I shouldn’t be doing it.”
Exasperated, Rainbow dove and reclaimed the bit. She stood, cock jutting from under her belly, staring confidently at Gilda, who shrank back a little.
“It’ll work,” said Dash around the bit, “b’cause you get so juicy and hot. I want t’ feel you around me. I want t’ be inside that sexy body.”
Gilda muttered, “I shouldn’t. It’s too thick. It’s too… long.” She shivered, and couldn’t stop staring. “Exactly how long are we talking, here? What… would happen if it didn’t all fit?”
Rainbow Dash grinned around the bit. This was her trump card. She’d worn harnesses with Gilda before. The griffin’s caterwauling fireworks always seemed to center on one thing—deep penetration. She’d hinted that it was a griffin thing, and from observational experience, Dash had to believe it.
Now, Gilda was looking at Dash’s hard-on with panic in her eyes, yet Rainbow would bet anything that the griffin was a honeypot of feline ooze all the same. Dash took a moment to be grateful that she wasn’t, in fact, thicker than she was—or as thick as Applejack had been.
Gilda raised an eyebrow to see a shadow of distress pass over Dash’s pony face, but said nothing as Dash shook it off and replied.
“What would happen… if it didn’t all fit?”
Gilda nodded, licking her beak.
“I’d just have to… shove,” said Dash.
Gilda whimpered. She began to breathe heavily through her open beak, staring and staring—and then, suddenly but not unexpectedly, the trembling griffin had leapt to her talons and paws—and whirled, pressing low to the ground. And sure enough—her feline pussy was a gooey bucket of lust, one that she could not disobey for another moment.
“Damn you, Dash! Damn you! Do your worst, damn it!”
Rainbow Dash grinned, observing predator turned prey. Just like the old days.
Gilda screamed and pounded the ground with a balled-up talon—and then she seemed to grab the earth with talons and claws and hang on, for Dash had mounted upon her.
It was always so awkward, always had been, still was. Gilda pressed so low to the ground, and stuck her ass up super high. It was a posture foreign to ponies, and it always threw Dash at first—and sure enough, her cock went right between Gilda’s legs and under her belly, rubbing against the soft fur there. It did feel awesome, but she couldn’t very well keep it there.
Dash adjusted her hips, and her stallionhood first thumped the inside of Gilda’s leg, and then swung up and thudded heavily against her mons and lower belly. If Dash had questioned the wisdom of her plan, the sounds Gilda made put all doubts to rest. The griffin, feeling the mass of stallion cock thumping heavily against her shuddering body, let out a series of lewd shrieks that left nothing to the imagination. Dash knew the heights of passion Gilda could reach. She’d never known her to go this wild, this early, before.
Dash tried to aim, but was thrown off by an unexpected move—Gilda had kicked a quivering leg out behind her. Rainbow could feel Gilda’s leonine tail writhing against her belly as it tried to hold itself ever harder to the right. The griffin’s feline ass was wriggling frantically, and there the leg went again, kicking out behind…
“Settle down! Hold still!”
Hearing this, Gilda heaved a deep breath, planted both hind-paws on the ground set well apart, dug her claws in, and began to alternate deep intakes of breath with lurid wails on the exhale. She was going ballistic—but her ass was Rainbow Dash’s, and she was holding it still for her.
Dash bit down a little harder, adjusted her stance—and felt kitty glop against the end of her dick. Target acquired… and whether it was affection for her old lover, or the influence of her pony lovers she’d had, Rainbow did not buck forward in wildness like the old days with griffin-shaped strap-ons.
Instead, she entered Gilda irresistibly—but slow, real slow.
The griffin bucked, her body shuddering violently as the stallion cock wedged into her. It felt incredible to Dash—tight, but greased up so generously with feline lube that the tightness was delicious. Pony juices wouldn’t have sufficed, but griffin juices were hardcore… Dash felt Gilda’s lean, muscular cat-ass clench, and then go into spasms around her. It was fantastic, and so was the noise. She slid a few more inches into Gilda’s pussy, rewarded by a hideous shriek.
Rainbow Dash let out a sigh of contentment, totally drowned out by her noisy griffin lover. This, this was distraction. Doin’ it old school, with her strange harsh lover who really liked that, and if they were rough? Life was rough, the griffins understood that.
She wondered if she was hurting Gilda, or if Gilda cared in the least whether she was hurt. The griffin way was so sexy, if you were unloved. You could just throw yourself into it, and end up covered in clawmarks and sweat, totally sated, totally distracted, and then you could leave and they were cool with that—at least Gilda was. It felt so familiar to Dash as she nudged a little deeper and felt Gilda’s leg kick out between hers as if trying to force her stallionhood deeper and deeper by any means necessary.
Gilda seemed to be trying to push backwards against her. It was so passionate. Her cunt was spasming hard now, and it seemed to only make her hungrier. Rainbow Dash’s heart went out, and she felt at that moment that Gilda’s intensity was the most beautiful thing ever.
Nuzzling Gilda’s neck-feathers, her hips gently nudging up to what she felt was Gilda’s ultimate depths with great tenderness, Rainbow Dash crooned, “Ya love me?” in her scratchy little voice.
The reaction she got was not what she’d have hoped.
Gilda twisted her head around, and screeched angrily, “Don’t get all fucking pony on me now!”
Shocked, Dash stared at her lover. Gilda stared back, her eyes red and crazed… and then, screamed a cry of frustration and rage without words. It said, more clearly than words: shut up about love and fuck me. Hard.
Dash glared—and swung her hips forward. Inside Gilda, the pony cock thrust deep, and thudded heavily against her feline cervix. The griffin shuddered, letting out a wild scream.
Dash did it again. Gilda writhed, tearing at the ground, her vagina clamping against Dash savagely. There was nothing cuddly about her, for all that her feline body was soft and furry. It was less soft when all the muscles were tense as boards, not melting into lovemaking at all. That was foreplay for the griffins, and it had passed. Gilda was into the wild-animal stage of griffin fucking, and expected the same of her pony lover.
“Fine!” yelled Rainbow Dash, her eyes hurt and angry—and she grabbed Gilda’s body, and began to hump her. “I.. know.. what.. you… like!” With each word, her stallionhood plunged into Gilda and rammed cruelly against her griffin cervix—the very trigger Gilda had always been a slave to, in feline fashion. A trigger that could be hit by griffin cock, or dildo—but which had never been slammed by a long, thick, pony cock, over and over and over.
Gilda exploded—at first in a good way.
She screeched painfully loud, clenched like a maniac, she clawed at the ground and sent dirt and grass flying everywhere—but she didn’t stop at that. Gilda writhed, her body impossible to hold, and before Rainbow knew what was happening, the griffin had flipped over and her talons were tearing at Dash’s body. She got a hindleg between herself and Dash and kicked out with her claws, she raked across Dash’s face with a talon, all in a blinding flurry of violence and screaming, in less than two seconds.
All Dash could do was scramble back, trying to get away from the pain.
She’d never actually given Gilda a full-on griffin orgasm before, and so nothing in her experience warned her that, like a male griffin, she’d better be ready to jump back—and she’d taken the brunt of it.
The next thing she knew, she was standing there, dripping blood, watching Gilda roll and flip around on the ground.
Rainbow’s voice shuddered. “What… the… FUCK, Gilda?”
“Mmmmmm,” responded the griffin. “Oh baby.” She writhed slowly on the ground, flipping over some more, gazing at Dash with half-lidded eyes.
“Oh, did I get you?” said Gilda. “Hey babe, if you’re gonna fuck like a griffin… and you fuck like a griffin and a half, wow. Mmmmm… here, put that thing away, let me get that for you.”
Gilda slunk over like a liquid birdkitty, and Dash shied away from her, seeing her own blood on Gilda’s talons, but the savage griffin had shifted gears. She plucked the bit out of Rainbow’s mouth and dropped it into her saddlebag, she nuzzled Rainbow and coaxed the panicky, bleeding pony onto her side, and she began licking at Rainbow’s wounds with her scratchy tongue, her own body shuddering with recent pleasures and feverishly hot to the touch.
“Gilda…” managed Rainbow.
“Yeah shut up, okay? I got this. You were awesome, Dash.”
Rainbow’s panic wouldn’t shut off. After the attack, her body insisted her griffin friend was about to tear her apart, and she couldn’t relax, even as the familiar lithe body rubbed affectionately against her. Gilda was licking her belly, her teats, where the claw had raked. She moved up, licking Dash’s chest, gazing sensuously into her jittery eyes. Gilda licked up Dash’s side, and the scratchy tongue and sharp, raptor beak neared the base of Dash’s right wing…
Rainbow Dash kicked up with a rear hoof and got Gilda in the side of the head.
Gilda yowled and reflexively struck back, her talons going for Dash’s face and neck, scratching another stripe of red in a quick, glancing blow…
And then there was one. Gilda lay on her side, claws and talons outstretched in griffin roughhouse mode, staring at a blue streak that cut through the trees for the open sky, and left a rainbow circle there. The boom shook more leaves off the trees.
Gilda stared after her fleeing lover.
“FINE!” she screeched.
She flipped over onto her back, grumbling. After a moment, she flopped onto her other side, rapidly overcome by her post-coital satiation again.
Gilda curled up, and began to purr. She lifted her head, and looked back at where Dash had disappeared into the vast, empty sky.
“Anytime, babe!” she called. “That was awesome! You’re a real griffin now!”
But Rainbow Dash was long gone, flying as fast as she could back home to Ponyville.