The Joust


This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.


The Joust

“Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!”

The crowd chanted, all manner of furs stomping and clamouring for the next bout of the joust, the silver dragon hefting his lance high, clad in a full suit of armour. His family crest of a blue drake splashed across a black background was prominent on his shield, known to all. Everyone knew who Silver was, even though his scales could barely be seen under the heavy coat of armour, visor flipped down over his eyes, although it was shaped to fit a draconian snout.

He spun his mount, his horse rearing, picking their front hooves up from the sand, worn and beaten in a track down the tilt. He was not aiming for a quintain, however, but another furry, a wolf that had already been neatly popped out of the saddle and was rolling around in the dirt, striving to catch his breath. There was no greater struggle than to catch one’s breath after being felled and the wolf, whose name Silver had already forgotten, limped away to be consoled, his entry fee tipped into the winner’s purse, his pride and his coin lost for the round. At least, for the time being.

Undefeated, Silver pumped his lance to the roar of the crowd, baring his teeth like a wild animal.

“Silver! Silver! Silver!”

Their chanting lifted him up, heart pounding for the thrill of it all. Yet there was more to come from the wooden stands as he pranced his steed around the jousting floor, the lowered pit that had raised champions and sent them too tumbling from such lofty peaks. The crowd clamoured in clashes of colour, flags flying and whipping in higher winds than they could have anticipated for such an occasion, the lord of the castle who was hosting the tournament at that time sitting in the nobles box, in prime position to take note of all that went down.

“Now… For our next challenge! It is Gabriel of the Dales to step forward! Meet your competitor in the battle of the joust!”

The dragon’s eyes locked on the next creature, although it took him a moment to realise just who he was, a hunk of muscle and broad shoulders to rival even his. He stood tall and proud with his ears pricked, dark slices protruding through the slits in the top of the helm, as if he knew without a doubt that he was meant to be there. Gabriel took in a deep breath, the pound of the crowd driving down on his helm as if they were striving to cleave his equine head in two, the din deafening, rising and throbbing.

Calm yourself…

Ah, there was nothing for it but to rise to the challenge, even as his companion and friend rode up beside him on a lighter grey warhorse that may have been better suited to a lady’s palfrey if not for her wicked eye and proud-stepping gait, a mare to be reckoned with in the heat of battle. The stallion atop her was grey too but his dappled coat was hidden under his own armour, stopping Gabe from riding out even as his mare pawed and snorted, churning up the dirt.

“This is madness, Gabriel,” he hissed, urgent in his intensity. “You know… There are other ways to go about this.”

Behind the helm, Gabriel smiled, the draught horse’s lips twitching unseen. Oh, that may have been true… But not even Madoc could understand that there were just as fun ways to get what one wanted while acquiring just a spot of practice too along the way.

“No…” Gabe shook his head gravely, clasping Madoc’s arm as it was extended to him, in time with the might and formality of the situation at hoof. “It is meant to be. I need to do this.”

The troubled grey stallion snorted and stepped back, tail flicking uncertainly, although he could not quite settle, shifting his weight constantly from one hoof to the other. Madoc, by far, was not in any sense of pain, however, watching with bated breath as Gabriel rode down to the tilt, his warhorse pounding the sand beneath the two of them, a centaur readying themselves on the brink of flight, as if they were driving to the warfront itself.

The crowd roared. They powered down the tilt, lances levelled, shields raised. There was no manner of slow-motion to be had as the announcer sent them at one another, sun blazing down, glinting off helms. The first blow had their lances glancing off one another’s shields but there was more to be had still as they wheeled about, their mounts obedient to the lightest of touches and shifts of weight, aiming for one another again with deadly intent that may very well have just been ever so slightly misplaced. It was not a real battle, of course, and the problem with that very bout, put on for the adoring nuances of the screaming crowd, was that one of the competitors intended to lose for what came after.

He did not fall gracefully. And he tried, bearing down into the saddle gaziantep escort even as Silver’s lance smashed into his shield, arm aching from the impact. Gabe did not fly but he hit hard, panting and gasping, eyes bulging. It was a strange sensation to suddenly find himself on the ground, hard and unyielding, when he had only been up on the back of his gelding a moment ago, now looking very concerned that his master was not upon his back. But it was meant to be and, as Silver cheered and proclaimed his own victory as the champion of the joust, the stocks were brought forward, Gabe’s ears slipping back, breath catching.

It was time.

Madoc scrambled and swore, guiding his mount with all the due care and haste that he could muster through the crowd. On and on… He had to get to him! But the servants worked quickly, stripping the black stallion of his armour and the sweaty under layers, his hide curled into dark licks of sweat as glorious, thick muscle was revealed. This, however, would not save him as he was torn all the way down to his simple undergarments and bent forward into the stocks, wrists and neck encased by wood as he was locked in, yet standing.


Silver’s eyes glistened as he removed his helm, although dragons did not sweat like horses did. It was time and it was his due prize as champion, the thrill of power pounding, coursing, through him, the stallion’s bare arse raised as if in invite. Of course, that was merely his imagination at work on that count, for there was no way, in his mind, that anyone, not even a horse like Gabe, could have possibly have deliberately lost the joust, knowing full well what kind of spoils ultimately went to the victory of the tournament…

No… No. That would be ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

Madoc charged, his horse skidding between the dismounted dragon and the bound horse, his pride and modesty soon to be stripped from him entirely.


Madoc clenched his jaw in challenge, though he didn’t even have a lance with which to determine the better of them, and Silver snorted, flipping his free paw dismissively, letting the reins go for a heartbeat of a moment. He had enough faith in his horse, of course, to know that they were not going anywhere while he bested yet another in the never-ending course and drama of raunchy masculinity. For that’s all the joust truly was, a manner of pitting furs against one another that they would all learn was a farce and a show in due course and time.

“You? Have you even won a single bout in this tournament, pony?” He jeered, shaking his head. “Go back to the stands where you belong.”

But Madoc was steadfast, quivering as he defended the honour of his friend, as much as Gabe tried to wave him off, tail clamped down, although it most certainly was not from any sense of fear for himself. The grey stallion held his ground even when it became clear that he was not where he was supposed to be, that Gabe had orchestrated it all, even if it had meant his downfall in a bout that should have, quite rightly, been his to make his own otherwise. He was capable and strong and a worthy opponent too on his worst of days – yet Silver was not to know that while he thought that he was the best of the best, a dragon and a force entirely to be reckoned with.

No… In Gabriel’s eyes, all had come to beautiful plans and fruition, even though Madoc had never been meant to get himself involved. That… He breathed shallowly, closing his eyes as his brow furrowed. That was indeed something of a complication. But he would have to live with it and take the pleasures with the trials of the joust too, even if he had not competed himself.

Silver drew himself up tall and fingered his horns, seeming to contemplate something. Such a brave horse, a brace pony… It wouldn’t do to simply send him packing while the crowd shouted and clamoured for a better result. And, perhaps, he had just the thing in mind as Madoc grunted and tipped forward, the intensity of his bearing shining through even with the armour covering his muscled form.

“No…” Madoc shook his head. “No, I will not move. That is all there is to it. You must now decide what to do with me.”

So stubborn! And yet that tenacity was too something that could be put to good use, if only one was willing to look further afield for just where it may well be applied.

“Then… Will you take the place of the one who was felled by me? Do you think you are worthy to stand in his stead?”

Madoc nodded: that was not his first mistake. Everything happened too quickly to keep note of as he was slammed into, feeling everything as if he was having the tale recounted to him from another fur entirely, a horror story that he was now being forced to live through. The dragon was larger than him by a good head and he had the weight advantage too, snarling viciously as his arms encased Madoc’s neck, bearing him down, stealing his breath. Greyness flitted across his vision and, dimly, escort gaziantep he was aware of more paws on him, removing his armour, finding the leather lace ties on his jerkin too to take even that from him. Before he knew it, although he was not very ‘with it’ at all, he was more naked than Gabriel was – that was, entirely stripped from head to hoof.

The dragon rumbled a chuckle, the roars of the crowd solely of approval as Madoc grunted, nose pressed down into the dirt and heart lifting. Damn it… That wasn’t at all as he’d planned!

“Oh, little pony,” Silver goaded him on, pressing Madoc’s face into the dirt and holding it there. “You know you were never going to take his place…”

Madoc would have gasped but the dragon had already forced the air from his lungs, bearing him down and down and down into the ground, a crushing blow that demonstrated his dominance in its most carnal form. He grunted, naked and his sheath plumped up shamefully, bearing due witness and testament to all that could have otherwise have been if circumstances at hand had been just a little bit different. It could have been hot otherwise – but just what was it that the dragon was planning to do to him? Ah, poor Madoc could never have guessed.

But Gabe knew and it was the dragon’s approach as he left Madoc panting on the ground that made the stallion tremble like a leaf, shaking and shivering, head respectfully bowed. Sometimes, a proud stallion like him had to get his rocks off in other ways, but the dragon was not to know that as he salaciously licked his lips, slavering over the hunk of horse-flesh before him, ripe for the taking. A colt in the prime of his adulthood, there was not an ounce of spare fat on his heavily muscled yet lean form, cut and ripped and bent over for his pleasure. He would have been amiss, after all, if he had not taken but a moment to admire what the pony had set up for him right there and then, the sun heating up the ground and arena as it beat down and down and down.

Sometimes, things didn’t have to be incredibly well thought out, planned and schemed for the greater good or a warmer, more sensual coupling, Silver thought idly, one piece of armour after the other removed from his scales with careful, helping paws. The servants did their job, stripping him down, all so he could take his prize. And that he knew that this was the prize that had been due to him all along, even though he could not have known that it would be Gabe leaning over for him, tail flipped up to reveal the velvety soft dock even though his undergarments would still have to be removed.


His hiss carried with it a promise and Gabe shuddered, those tempting paws sweeping over his covered backside. That cloth, however, was soon to be ripped away as it was yanked from him, tearing through, his naked backside gleaming on show, hide shiny with good health. Silver murmured his appreciation, although it was a stolen pleasure to take the top spot on public show, something that was expected of him even though the audience would have been quite correct in themselves to consider him straight. It was not as if he made his bisexual leanings public knowledge but the sight of a pony-butt, ripe for the taking, made him lick his lips, slender tongue flicking out and sliding along the line of his muzzle.

His fingers probed and Madoc managed to lift his head, still wheezing faintly, cock pushed out into the dusty ground, just in time to see his fingers ease into the other horse with surprising gentleness. Closing his eyes, Gabe gasped and grunted thickly, ears splayed, his cock threatening to spill out, although it was as if right there and then he was trying to hold something back, a secret he had yet to release into the breath of the world. His fleshy length begged to come out, the flatter tip just about poking by the soft barrier of his sheath, but there was still time for that as Silver’s fingers teased deeper and deeper, taking his time in his sordid exploration of his bound prize.

“Easy there…”

Silver softened his tone as it became clear that Gabe wasn’t going to fight his punishment, even though it didn’t really seem like any kind of punishment at all anymore. His hooves splayed and he braced himself, blushing furiously and even trying to grind and hump his way back onto those curiously probing fingers, twisting and testing, trying to find…

Gabe tensed, nostrils flared. There! Silver chuckled throatily, a deep, masculine sound that sent shivers down the restrained stallion’s spine like nothing else.

“Oh… Is that the spot?”

It came out as teasing, lilting, and Silver luxuriated in exploring even further, curling his fingers up against the pony’s prostate and pressing down, seeking out the actions that would make him moan the loudest. Of course, there was only so much time to explore and there was a scuffling nearby too that was almost possible to ignore if not for the crowd shouting, drawing his attention to Madoc gaziantep escort bayan crawling and heaving himself along, eyes wide and desperately strained.

Silver sighed. Oh dear.

“Are you still not aware of what is going on here? I don’t even know your name.”

But he didn’t have to know Madoc’s name to recognise the shamefully plump cock of a pony in need, swaying lightly as he blushed and tried to make his need seem a little less evident than it actually was. That was a tall order and, truly, not one that Madoc was going to be able to succeed in for himself, nickering lightly as he bobbed his head, only just about managing to get up onto his knees as Silver groped and squeezed Gabe’s fat pony nuts with light respect that did not quite seem due regarding the situation.

Gabe gasped but it was hard to think of Madoc when he was being toyed with, the bondage allowing him to relax into it, to give up every last restriction that had been placed on him when he’d been free. It was freeing, in a way, and the public spectacle of it could not help but draw his cock out into a hot and heavy spill of flesh, hardening up and slapping up against his own lower abdomen in ardent equine need. The crowd screamed and he hung his head, unable to look at them as his forelock hung over his eyes and excitement like nothing he’d ever felt before coursed through him, powerful and commanding.


Madoc moaned but there was no way to deny the reaction of his body, blinking between the dragon and Gabe, who most certainly seemed to at least be enjoying some of what was being done to him. But how could that be? He supposed he could well enough have asked the same question of himself, considering his half-hard cock, but it was hard to think straight with so much noise, the hard-packed dirt beneath his knees grinding into them, forcing him to adjust his weight and position near enough constantly.

Smirking, Silver withdrew his fingers gently from the stallion’s tail hole, striding around to his head with a languid, easy stride that seemed to say that he had all the time in the world to get and do as he wanted. He could have all he needed but his cock pushed up thick and full and hard, the length of dragon-meat aching for a tight hole into which it could sink. Licking his lips, he groaned, sifting through the scents, nostrils flaring greedily as he sucked in all that would make itself away from him, male musk and sweat, earthen horse, dirt and the strange ‘heat’ of the dare that bore its own aroma in the dirt itself.

Madoc panted, jaw dropped, mouth open. He couldn’t move, could hardly breathe, the dragon turning his eyes on him as blood (and the crowd, clamouring for attention and ‘victory’ at last) roared between his ears.

“Come here, slut,” he murmured, crooking his finger at the grey stallion. “Get me ready for your friend here…”

It didn’t seem like Silver needed any help getting that part of his anatomy ready at all but Madoc’s eyes locked with Gabe’s, the black stallion nodding a tiny amount. It wouldn’t have been perceptible to anyone who had not already been looking for it but, with the crowd cheering him on, Madoc’s heart lurched to do the one thing that he could not have said that he had done in public before.

There was a first time for everything.

Gabe groaned and watched, ears pricked, as that length of cock-meat disappeared into another equine mouth, although it should have, in all honesty, have been his muzzle that it sank into. Yet he was once again reduced to play nothing more than the part of the voyeur as his cock jerked and slapped against his own body, wanting it, craving it – yet denied it. His lips parted and he tried to suck in breath through his mouth, although it did nothing to alleviate the tightness in his lungs, burning and clawing at his soul.

The grey stallion, however, moaned as that cock burrowed deep into his mouth, perfectly shaped for sucking, pressing up into the back of his throat but no further than that. The dragon was not as well-endowed a typical equine could brag to be but that was by the by when it came to pleasure and Madoc was best placed to deliver everything that the dragon could ever have wished for. The length of fuck-meat drooled thickly as it pushed into his mouth, a tapered tip questing for something that only a long equine muzzle could deliver, the stallion’s tongue lustfully pressed up to the underside, delivering all the pleasure that he could.

Silver grunted in the back of his throat, hips rocking and swaying as he pushed into the stallion’s muzzle, eager to see just what he had to offer. So hot and warm… It had been a long time since he’d last felt a male tongue pressed up to and caressing his cock, teasing ever so sweetly over his thick length. His eyes rolled and he huffed noisily, although any sound that he did make was easily overpowered by the crowd, stomping and threatening to break free of the stands. Yet the guards lofted spears to keep them back, allowing the victor the spoils that he was well enough due, tail thrashing as he rocked and thrust, treating Madoc’s muzzle as if it was just another hole for him to fuck. He would never again, most likely, see the stallion after the day had reached its natural completion and, well, he may as well get every last little thing that he could ever have wanted from the broken stud in the meantime.

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