Anon eats breakfast out of Tempest Shadow's ponut


                                            >The clank of metal-shoed armored hooves approaches your dungeon. Your door creaks open.

                                            >“Hmm... Well, Anon, did you sleep well last night?”

                                            >You wake up groggy and sore from your straw bedding. You don't answer her. You just look at her fearfully.

                                            >“Are you hugry?”

                                            >Your stomach turns. You are in fact starving to death, but you fear what sadistic means she'll invent to sustain you.

                                            “Y-yes, master.”

                                            >“Then I've got a fresh breakfast made for you. You just have to get it.”

                                            “P-please, I'll be fine, I'm okay...”

                                            >“You will eat breakfast this morning. I made it for you. Are you rejecting something I made for you?”

                                            >You wince.

                                            “N-no, master.”

                                            >With a cruel smirk, Tempest shadow turns about and lifts her tail. Her quivering ponut is swollen and quivering.

                                            >“You'll have to serve yourself, but it's right here for you...”

                                            >You don't want to do this but you have no choice. You are starving and desperate to eat, and she will punish you if you reject it.

                                            >You reach your hand up and feel at her ponut. Feel around its plump, warm, wrinkled surface.

                                            >“Dig in.” she said invitingly.

                                            >You feel like you might vomit, but there is nothing inside your stomach. This is the only way there will be.

                                            >You get up a little, and, after a second of hesitation hovering in front of it, press your face and lips up against her pony asshole.

                                            >she moans and wiggles her butt around.

                                            >you dare to stick your tongue out and feel around a little in her warm insides.

                                            >She moans in ecstasy and begins to push. You steel yourself and prepare for the worst experience imagineable, but something presses out against your lips and it feels and tastes like...

                                            >bacon? You havn't eaten in days and you feel at it further to confirm, then pull on it a bit with your teeth

                                            >sure enough, a strip of fresh bacon is coming out of her ponut.

                                            >You pull it out, and despite its source, you hungrily devour it.

                                            >“That's a good little Anon-pet... Dig in. There's plenty more where that came from.”

                                            >You dig your face in again, she pushes and groans, and out comes two more strips of bacon, which you devour like the first

                                            >“You're a hungry little Anon. That's good, this breakfast is more than one course!”

                                            >She groans and pushes again, you wrap your lips around her ponut again, and out comes a round, white smooth object.

                                            >A hard-boiled egg. It's well cooked and satisfying. She gives you two!

                                            >“Now, Anon, I hope you're still hungry, that was just the sides, Here's your main course! GUARDS!

                                            >A guard hastily appears and sets a plate down on the dungeon floor, then sets a fork and knife down next to it.

                                            >She hovers over the clean plate, squeezes and groans much harder than before, and out comes...

                                            >Three rolled up pancakes, which land and unfurl with a flop on the plate

                                            >laying out flat and each landing perfectly on top of the other.

                                            >”Just a sec...” she says again, and with another near-agonized groan, squeezes out a horrid yellow substance on top of the pancakes

                                            >You soon realize it's butter, to your relief

                                            >Then a brown, translucent sticky substance, which you realize is syrup, oozes out.

                                            >It looks the worst of anything so far dispensed, but smells sweet and fragrant as any average maple syrup would.

                                            >You stare groggily at the pancakes, but you do have to admit they look pretty good.

                                            >“Dig in, Anon. We've got a busy day ahead of us.” Tempest says.

                                            >She eagerly watches as you begin hungrily eating her rectal pancakes with a stupid grin on your face.