The air was particularly frigid that evening, cutting through Neo Mile’s rich blue fur and dark sable mane like an icy razor where he flew up, up over the high mountains of the far North of Equestria. The sun had dipped below the horizon for all that resided down in the sparse valleys that sprawled beneath him between the high mountain peaks, but was still visible from his high point in the air where he flew; he was thankful that he had goggles to protect his eyes from the biting air, but found himself wishing that he had a thick windproof flight jacket to help with the chill.

He shivered in flight, noticing as the turbulence in the air began kicking up with the departure of the sun. In the gloaming sky that stretched around him in a massive dome he picked out the first twinkle of stars before they were blotted out by forming clouds, flowing around the mountain tops and blowing south, right for him. As a Pegasus, Neo was well and truly familiar with the myriad varieties of clouds that were made for Equestrian skies, but these were different. They looked wild, unruly, untamed like a dark roiling sea as they blew in, bearing down upon him with surprising speed, and bringing extra chill and an icy fog when he entered the clouds. They weren’t normal… these were clouds from beyond the magic of Equestria, formed on their own— uncontrollable by pony magic!

Neo grimaced as the clouds closed in around him, the ice starting to form thick rime across the glass lenses of his goggles and the leading edges of his wings. He quickly tried to wipe them off, desperately flapping his wings to loose them of the rime, but in the plummeting temperatures and thick ice mist whatever he buffeted off formed back moments later. The Pegasus groaned in fear, feeling his wings losing their lift as his feathers grew heavy with ice, sensing innately that he was losing altitude.
Fast.

He pushed his goggles down around his neck to un-blind him of the ice that had formed over them, casting his gaze down into the rock and snow below, barely visible. He had to find a good landing spot, quickly too, or he risked plummeting to his sure demise when his wings iced over further. He squints in the darkness, wind howling in his ears as he sees a faint glimmer of light along the edge of a cliff face, the light of fire behind windows, glinting through the colluding mist.

That light was his only hope. Neo angled his icy wings toward the light, estimating the arch of his descent would give him just enough distance to land before his wings were useless, flapping harder and harder as he went, whipped around by the wind of the storm before the sudden looming shape of a stone lodge came into view, warm light glimmering from many windows. He landed with a heavy thump into a pile of snow upon an outer balcony, teeth chattering and shivering to his core from the cold, bones aching.

Neo managed to stand up, groaning softly from the cold before he lethargically dragged a hoof up to knock on the glass door before him on the balcony. Once… twice… thrice… nobody seemed to answer it. The desperate Pegasus jimmied the door, trying to open it, and briefly thought of smashing the glass before he saw movement beyond the frosty glass.

A yellowish talon wiped away condensation that had formed on the inside to make a small circle in which an avian head popped into view. A griffon! Brown plumage with a grey beak, the smallish griffon blinked quizzically before unlatching the door and allowing Neo to spill in; accompanied by an unwelcome gust of frigid wind and a small wave of snow onto the floor.

The griffon squawks from the cold, quickly shutting the door and staring at the pony in a heap on the floor. He reaches over with a talon and pokes the Pegasus, tilting his head from side to side to get a decent view of him.

“Are you dead then? Or just mostly dead? Who are ya anyway? Hm?” The brown griffon interrogates the pony, feathers ruffling in mounting consternation. “What makes ya think y’can just come bashing on our door, eh? Ya think it belongs t’you do ya? Well it doesn’t! It’s ours! We built it, it’s ours!”

Neo groaned deeply, pulling himself back to his hooves and shivering, the ice now melting in the warmth and dripping into a puddle. He blearily blinked, mind working better in the warmth as he surveyed his surroundings. He was in a lodge of some sort, thick stone walls were covered with tapestries and aging portraits, wall sconces glittered with small fires, drawing his eyes over to the blissful warmth of a roaring hearth. The Pegasus takes a breath, looking back over to the griffon who had opened the door.

“A-ah… I’m Neo. Neo Miles. I u-um… I didn’t mean to barge in… The storm caught me off guard, this was the only place I could see for shelter, I’m s-sorry…” He mumbles, unsure quite how to respond to the angry griffon.

“Oh ya? Is that so!” The griffon ruffles his feathers, calming down a little. “Hmm… well, I suppose that’s alright.” The griffon muses before he turns around and leans his head through a nearby door. “Hey Goose! We got a visitor of sorts, says ‘e blew in on the storm! Looks like it too! A Pegasus!”

There were muffled sounds from the other room, a moment later another griffon appearing through the doorway, this one of somewhat regal bearing. He was grey and white in plumage, quite well portioned in height and weight with a thick, jagged edged yellow beak, and a tall white hat upon his head. With a swift motion he deftly thwacks the smaller brown griffon on his side with the flat of a spatula.

“Ach, Arvid, what did I say about calling me this? I say non! Absolutement non! I am Gustave le Grande to you!” He growls deeply.

Arvid gives a pained yelp as he dashes away, hiding behind a nearby chair, rubbing his side where he’d been smacked. “Hey! Ya didn’t have to hit me…” He whimpers. “Jus’
thought you’d want to know… What with the dinner situation an’ all…”

Gustave narrowed his eyes, surveying the sodden pony before raising a brow. “C’est vraiment… Ah, my pony, you come here for shelter? We oblige, perhaps, you join us for our meal. We will warm you up.”

Neo looks up, eyes moving between the two griffons before nodding timidly. “If… if it’s not an inconvenience, then that might be pretty nice…” He says, offering a smile.
“Come with me then, my pony, come with me.” He gestures through the door, shooting a deathly glare at Arvid who wilts behind the chair upon seeing it. “To my kitchen, there is wine here to revive you.”

Neo follows along behind the large griffon, seeing a very well apportioned kitchen sprawl around them, with many rows of knives, pans, pots, and other kitchen implements of curious design. Most striking of all was a huge hooded oven, built into the wall with cast iron grates and doors. He wondered to himself what they could possibly be cooking on such a huge oven… certainly wasn’t vegetables! He watched eagerly as Gustave popped the cork on a dark bottle of wine, his form and spread wings blocking the view of the pouring before he turned and presented a glass vessel, somewhat resembling a pestle, presenting it to Neo who eagerly took it and sipped the warming wine.

“Goodness… this is good, thank you sir. It’s exactly what I n-needed.” He sighs softly, feeling himself become more relaxed by the second. “What a-are you going to cook here? I heard the other fella say something about dinner…”

“Ah, you will see, my pony. You will see.” The griffon replied darkly, a grin crossing his beak.

Neo squinted, feeling himself relaxing more… relaxing… too much! His muscles were going weak, the Pegasus wobbling in place as his damp wings drooped down to his sides, head swimming. “Wh-wha… w-what did you…” He murmurs before dropping the vessel of wine which shattered on the floor as he flopped onto the checkered tile below, view fading to black as the grey griffon loomed above him, soon consumed by darkness.



Neo came to a short while later, his head groggy and clouded, thoughts coming to him slowly. He blinks his eyes open, the world around him fairly blurry but slowly coming into focus. After a moment he could feel his whole body, every inch of it, but something was deeply wrong… he couldn’t move! It was as if all his major muscles had been simply switched off. He could breath, twitch his eyes around, blink, but not lift a hoof or wing where he lay upon what seemed to be an elevated counter in the kitchen, the cool stone countertop pressing against his belly and nethers, a bit uncomfortable. The Pegasus grunts softly, attracting the attention of the two griffons.

“He’ll do, won’t he? Good size, yes.” Arvid chirps, peering closely at the pony on the counter.

“Oui, he will.” Gustave replies, moving over to the hapless pony, a coil of thick cooking twine and a long metal rod in claw. “Help me with this.”

“Ah, sure.”

The two griffons move to Neo, his eyes widening as he sees the pointed end of that metal rod approaching, mind racing to figure out just what it could possibly be for, as he had not yet figured on the griffons’ plans. Gustave pats a talon on Neo’s mane, stroking it gently twice before looking into his eyes.

“Tu, my pony, are just what we needed.” He laughs deeply. “We had no roast, and what is a feasting day without a roast? We have guests to come, oui, and they must be fed. I hope you understand.” Gustave explains, shifting Neo’s forehooves limply out in front of him and tucking his wings at his side. “Try to stay still.” He taunts.

“Ah don’t think he has to try!” Arvid snickers from nearby.

“Just help with the spit.” Gustave replies, giving a slight deadpan toward the smaller griffon.

Arvid nods and holds onto Neo’s shoulders as Gustave slickens the metal spit with olive oil and sets it down long enough to shear away most of Neo’s tail with a pair of shears. With the tail out of the way, he presses the cool metal tip of the roasting spit against the stallion’s pucker, the pony whimpering quietly as his eyes widen further, twitching in panic as it slips in, the cold metal intrusion stretching him around its decently thick width. It almost felt… good, in a strange way, feeling the penetration, sending a wave of arousal through him as his cock twitched and blush covered his face.

It only took a moment for it to start to feel wrong… deeper and deeper the spit went in him, until it reached the point beyond which nothing could naturally move. With a slight twist and a firm shove, the pointed tip slipped further in, and perhaps by some enchantment, the effects of whatever numbing poison he had been given, or just the deft skill of a practiced griffon chef, he felt no pain, merely strong pressure building up within him as the spit forced its way through the stallion’s body.

Neo shudders on the counter, gripped strongly by the brown griffon’s talons as he felt that spit creep through his belly, paralleling his spine and soon tickling the back of his throat, straightening him out unnaturally as it did. In a moment it was stretching his throat, causing the pony to gasp and gag as much as his paralyzed muscles could manage as it slipped past his wind pipe, restricting the flow of air a fair bit to the pony and sliding up into his mouth. With one further shove, he felt the thick spit flow from his lips, stretching further and further out in front of him, warmed by the core of his body. How could this be happening? This… this wasn’t real… it must be a dream, he thought to himself frantically.

“Aha, good, my pony. Good.” Gustave’s calm voice says, patting Neo’s gurgling muzzle with a claw as the pony struggled on the spit. “Not long now.”

Neo could feel another rod being slipped through a hole in the metal spit down by his hind hooves, and the tight compressing feeling of the twine being tied around those hooves, the new rod acting to give leverage to the spit once it was spinning in the fire. He gave a strangled whimper, half fear, half lust at the strange fullness he felt from the penetrating spit as he saw Arvid tying that same twine around his forehooves to the spit, and his wings down to his sides. The paralytic had begun to wear off, but the twine and the spit held him in place, his neck aching as it was held forward, unable to turn it at all.

“Heft him over, now.” Gustave said as he and Arvid lifted up the spit and quickly turned the pony over, resting him on his back and exposing his underside to the kitchen, his half erect cock flopping to the side.

“Looks like he’s kinda enjoyin’ it, eh!” Arvid cackles.

“Perhaps, perhaps.” Gustave says as he deftly takes Neo’s cock in his talon, gently stroking and caressing it, pumping in motion to get the blood flowing to that twitching member, making it fully hard and taking pleasure at the garbled moans of distressed pleasure from the pony. Once it was fully stiff, he took a loop of twine and tied it alarmingly tightly around the pony’s cock.

“This part is to help with the cooking of the delicacy.” The grey griffon explained to the other. “But now, we cook!”

Arvid nods once more and helps heft the pony up, and over to the edge of the huge oven he’d seen on the way in, and with Gustave’s assistance he fits two metal disks to the end of the spit and they set him into the mechanism of the oven. Neo’s mind was racing, a mixed up cloud of lust and alarm, feeling the drafting airflow over his aching, constricted cock. The griffons rotated him until he was properly the right side up once more, before they began basting his back and sides with a thick, sticky sauce that smelled spicy to his nostrils, almost appetizing, despite his situation. He could feel the tingle hint of heat from beneath him, but the grate was firmly shut.

“The potion, that I gave the pony, will keep him alive until we have finished at the table.” Gustave explains. “It is important… for the flavor. This is the traditional way of serving equines. But it is not done much, these days. You are lucky, my pony, to be a part of this. And you too, Arvid, to taste such a dish!”

“Ah can’t wait to try ‘im!” The brown griffon grins.

With that, Gustave reaches over and opens a lever beneath Neo, shifting the grates as a sudden wave of intense heat floats up and envelopes the pony. He tenses up, cock throbbing in the heat as he lets out a primal groan of fear and arousal, bucking and twisting as much as the spit would allow him to, as the mechanism he had been set in began to spin, ever so slowly. The heat began to make the basting sizzle upon him, seeping into his flesh, building and building in his core as he gasps and struggled to breath or keep his eyes open. The rotating of the spit soon gave him respite for his burning belly and cock, aching for release.

Where there was respite for one side, the other soon began to sizzle as he was rotated upside down, the heat spreading more evenly. It was clear that he’d not get out of this, he whimpered and gasped upon the realization…

“How long will ‘e take?” Arvid asks, departing the kitchen.

“A few hours, we will check, and baste often.” Gustave nods, checking a stop watch and turning to prepare the other dishes for the guests that would be coming to the lodge.

He was left upon the spit, a mere ingredient now, food to be consumed as he slowly cooked, strange magic keeping him going far beyond any point that could naturally be expected. He’d inevitably wind up on their table, inanimate roast, for the griffons…

But for now, he cooked.

And the smell was delicious.

Please login to post a comment.