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The Horse and His Cock	By : JayDee Category: A through F > Chronicles of Narnia Views: 34714 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Chronicles of Narnia, nor any of the characters. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Author’s Note:
Dear link clicker,
These chapters were written for the weekly prompts on the forum. This chapter has ‘frittle’. AFF's BronxWench tells us that her print edition copy of the Oxford dictionary states this to be an obsolete word for 'fickle'. I made a few searches and various old texts transcribed online support this usage. There is also a definition quoted on urbandictionary and other sites, that it’s "a temporary mark on the skin caused by the impression of a textured surface". I have used both definitions in the crime against fanfiction that follows.
Yours envying the dead,
JD.

Old winds carried dry smells of the desert across the southern border to the noses of Aravis and Bree. The winds brought memories of the homes and servitudes, both subtle and otherwise, fled. Aravis paused at the edge of the forest where the road split, and rested her hand against the gnarled bark of an ancient tree. Bree nuzzled lovingly at her neck; she knew she’d never trade her new life for the old fine luxuries of her father’s house in Calormen. She moved her hand from the uncomfortably rough bark, quickly forgot the fading frittle, and stroked gently the stallion’s nose.
“Do you think it can really be true, as the hermit said? That this herbalist has an elixir which will allow us to be together as in that wonderful dream?”
“He had no reason to lie. He would have mixed it himself, if he had the ingredients. We’re lucky Hwin somehow caused him to recall it.”
“I long to couple with you, Bree, we’re moreso lucky to have found each other as we did. That trapped sand was surely no mere accident.”
“If Aslan guides us, we’ll have no trouble. The hermit mentioned this herbalist is of a frittle nature. Especially when it comes to honoring bargains. Though that bird flew between and confirmed she had a stock of brewed elixir, she might not barter…”
Bree stopped talking at the slight crackle of undergrowth. Together they turned and saw an angry Badger upon her hind-legs. They were much closer to the herbalist’s home of March-Game Sett than they’d thought. Their conversation had certainly been overheard, and not enjoyed from the way her white and black nose whipped from side to side with her angry cry,
“That senile old human! Frittle! Me! I wouldn’t take that kind of old fashioned aspersion upon my good name in my youth, and certainly won’t now. You travel here, expecting my help, and insult me!”
“It was not our intent, truly! I apologize most sincerely for myself, and for my dearest Bree. I am sure the hermit, also, meant no offence."
Bree managed to look embarrassed, his long equine head bowed low before the badger, as he added,
“I am also sure the hermit meant no offence. I am sorry. To be able to speak freely after so long mute, I forget myself.”
“Fine words, but in my life I heard a lot of those. Years of them under that miserable ice bitch for a start. This old Badger rates actions. So, girl, if you’re as penitent as you claim then you’ll not mind an additional fee,” the badger continued before they could object, “I’ll drink a sample of my elixir first, and demonstrate to you the effects with this handsome, if ill mannered, stallion."
Aravis looked from the large talking badger to Bree’s sheath. She felt her heart twist at the thought of her lover taking another, having already formed a deep possessive attachment to Bree, but only said,
“That is impossible! When he is exited, he would be as long as you are tall.”
“Nonsense! Don’t you know what the elixir does? ‘Course you do, you want to ride him yourself, girl. Well, the version I’m selling you is greatly watered down to what’s needed to allow something that size to fit your size. As for the undiluted version, well, where do you think half-giants originated?”
“I….”
“Those were some greedy minxes, by Aslan. Look, I’m not forcing you; I’m asking fair payment for your insult… ‘frittle’, am I? Is it any wonder when I am insulted? Leave if you prefer. I will give you the details of a fellow herbalist in the north… if you can abide the long journey before you couple?”
“Bree, I… I want you to be mine alone, but I need you, also…” Aravis moved her hand downwards, to the place she had been acutely aware of ever since their passionate dream, “here.”
“I’ll do anything for you, Aravis, even h-… I mean, that is to say, it is no hardship to assist a fine, intelligent Badger with her request,” Bree was quite pleased at avoiding insulting the tetchy Badger again.
“Settled then, girl. When you get him hard, I’ll drink my first vial’s worth and then you can just lift me up, slip it in, and I’ll hold onto his belly and do the rest.”
Aravis’ hand shook as she reached for Bree’s shaft. She had never knowingly had a witness to her loving with the stallion, and the Badger showed no inclination to turn away. Quite the opposite, the herbalist rubbed at her furred entrance while Aravis gently petted and kissed Bree’s mighty stallion organ to hardness. She forgot the panting Badger, and focused only on the hot, stiffening horse cock. She drank of Bree’s pre-cum, and nibbled around the flared crown until the faint impact of a dropped vial reminded her of the Badger’s desire. Aravis strained to lift the Badger’s furry mass to Bree’s underside.
“Help me down before his little death or I’ll be leaving slug trails for a month.”
Her sharp claws left tiny pinpricks in Bree’s flanks, and then she was gripping without Aravis’ assistance. The Calormene girl’s pretty eyes widened with shock as Bree sank deeply inside the Badger. The should have been fatally impaled; instead the elixir permitted both great pleasure. She kept her powerful grip on the horse, and moved herself back and forth like an abacus bead beneath Bree.
“Aravis, come to my head, it is you I think of, you I want to see,” Bree gasped loyally, though his words were nearly lost beneath the Badger’s sudden stream of aroused invective. It didn’t take much to make a lonely Badger pop.
“The elixir works, Bree, so beautifully. I ache to have you in me,” sobbed Aravis as Bree tenderly licked her face.” He stiffened, nostrils flared,
Too late to stop, Bree came, and the greedy Badger got her fill of Aravis’ lover.

A/N: This chapter written for AFF forum weekly prompt 30 - Frittle.
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The Horse and His Cock