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I have the great pleasure to bring you a short, four pages comic that my friend The_Secret_Cave originally wanted to create for his Patreon. However, since the characters in question were co-owned by me, I offered to give him a hand with the comic's story and also write a longer, more detailed story to better describe the context of this comic. I hope you will enjoy this collaboration of ours ^^\n\n[b][color=#f57900]Note that, since this was a gift for The Secret Cave, the story will differ a little from the comic, simply to better represent his tastes and preferences. So, give it a read if you want to discover the subtle changes from the comic :P[/color][/b]\n[color=#ef2929]\nArtwork is done by:[/color] http://www.furaffinity.net/user/thesecretcave/\n[color=#ef2929]\nStory is written by Cheetahs[/color]:http://www.furaffinity.net/user/cheetahs/\n[color=#f57900]\nIstaryl(c) and Swiftpaw(c) are our characters[/color]\n\n*\n\nIstaryl pushed away the oversized nose creeping from his side without even bothering to reprimand Swiftpaw. He had been stuck in here for the better part of the day while his rider did who knew what throughout the village.\n\n\"Isn't the promise of a relaxing fur brushing session enough for you? Fine then,\" Istaryl said, shoving Swiftpaw back a second time. \"I'll bathe you as well, but only after I'm done with the sweeping and the mopping. Much easier to clean a single pen than the entire stable, and I'm not sure I'll have the willpower for that after dealing with your rowdy self.\"\n\nHe dipped the end of his broom in the bucket of water usually reserved for the mopping session, as Undrethyl taught him. It not only helped soak the dust and prevent it from rising, but the smaller, more bothersome errant hay strands spread all over the stables stuck to the broom, making his task much less agonizing.\n\n\"Go to your pen,\" Istaryl ordered the Pinestalker, who made a habit to ignore every reasonable request from the hand that fed him while stabled here. Swiftpaw settled on his belly a few feet behind Istaryl, head rested atop his forepaws, downright dismayed with his failed attempts to seize Istaryl's attention.\n\n\"If you think a pleading look is enough to change my mind, you are sorely mistaken. See these?\" He pointed at several of the muddy prints tarnishing the smooth, wooden floor of the stables. \"Guess who the culprit is.\"\n\nA heavy sigh fled Swiftpaw's great nose, his eyes shifting to the side guiltily, his sagged ears mirroring his deflating hope of finally being awarded some attention. It pained Istaryl to voice such hard truths to an intelligent animal not at fault with their imprisonment, but right now, he simply needed Swiftpaw out of his way.\n\n\"I want to play as well. To roll together in your hay bed, to comb through your beautiful mane, to rub your belly and tease your paw pads with the tip of a claw. Heh, you'll hate that, I guarantee.\" Istaryl stopped his musings for a second, resting against the broom handle. What stopped him from doing that? Principle? Devotion to an employer he knew next to nothing about?\n\n\"But we have our roles in this grand society we're part of.\" Though sarcasm tinted his words, Swiftpaw perked his ears, excitement blazing within his eyes at having his status acknowledged by someone, even if it was a lowly stable hand. In that regard, Pinestalkers weren't exactly bright. They took words as they were given to them, too enraptured by their capacity to understand speech to detect the underlying message.\n\n\"I wipe floors, and you carry the bony arse of a drake who hasn't even seen you today.\"\n\n\"Hrrrrr!\" Swiftpaw retorted through a snarl, flaunting his fangs as Istaryl.\n\nBlind loyalty was another flaw of the species. Regardless of their riders' intentions, goals and means to achieve them, the creatures first and foremost responded to devotion. It mattered little to Swiftpaw that Elargar abandoned him in the stables for the better part of two days, so long as he eventually returned.\n\nEven if that would take weeks, months, perhaps even...years.\n\nIstaryl shook his head at the impressionable Pinestalker, disappointed with how easily they could be exploited. \"I still don't understand what you see in Elargar, but have it your way. I'm not one to pry into one's personal matters.\"\n\nSwiftpaw's anger dispersed in an instant, replaced by his adorable--if perhaps a bit goofy--personality. He chirped and pawed at Istaryl in invitation, the high-pitched sounds a stark contrast to the stature of the male. How could a beast big enough to carry a drake produce such curious vocalizations?\n\n\"Sweeping first, mopping after, and only then will I join you.\"\n\n\"Grrrrh,\" Swiftpaw growled in resignation, crumpling onto his left side to stare at Istaryl with big, hollow eyes.\n\n\"That's what I think of this job as well, so you're not the only one.\"\n\nNow that Swiftpaw officially ceased his pestering, Istaryl confidently placed his back to him, starting from the front of the stables and continuing the sweeping down to the middle. With the hay and debris out of the way, he grabbed the mop from its rack in one hand, the bucket in the other, and started on his second task.\n\nHe always enjoyed mopping. Seeing the flaking mud and dusty paw prints give way beneath the swirling movements of his mop stirred a strange satisfaction in him. The broom relocated the dirt and straw elsewhere, but the mop...the mop simply made the mess disappear!\n\nIt didn't take long for Istaryl to fall into the rhythm of work, his swings becoming broader, faster, more purposeful. For every ten strokes of his brush on the soon to be immaculate canvas, he drenched the mop into the increasingly darker water, thus make sure that he cleaned the mud instead of simply spreading it around.\n\n\"Last round before I dump this bucket and get a clean one,\" he mumbled a reminder to himself. So focused was he on the floor, that he only registered the speck of beige and grey growing on the side of his vision far too late.\n\n\"Ack!\" Istaryl yelped, almost tripping on Swiftpaw's oversized foot. \"Why would you even...oh,\" the red drake cut his rant short when he realized that Swiftpaw had settled on his haunches inches away from the wet portion of the floor. He not only avoided stepping on Istaryl's work with his grimy paws, but actually seemed entranced by the miracles his mop had performed.\n\n\"What do you think?\" He boasted to the Pinestalker who stared at the glistening hardwood floor. \"Much better than what I found when I came in. I can tell you appreciate cleanliness as much as we do. Otherwise, this mane would be all tangled up.\"\n\nHe shifted the mop to the other hand to run his fingers through Swiftpaw's dark brown mane, the hairs soft and sleek. They flowed between Istaryl's claws like the lazy waters of a slow, peaceful river, neither tangled nor brittle. Was that specific to the species? Or did Elargar have a hand to play in Swiftpaw's neat, healthy look?\n\n\"Just gotta swap this bucket for a clean one and then finish the rest of the stables. Not long until I can fully dedicate myself to you, eh?\"\n\nIstaryl rewarded the Pinestalker for his patience by gently scratching under the prominent fur of his cheek, his whole hand sunken beneath the tan, silky fur. Swiftpaw's eyes began to close ever so slowly in relaxation, the mellow purr igniting in his throat a testimony to his enjoyment. Istaryl rolled his hand in circular patterns across his cheek, kneading at the fluff as if it was dough, relishing its caress against his smooth hide.\n\n\"Just stay put. I'm almost done.\"\n\nSwiftpaw's purr died in his throat as soon as Istaryl's hand parted from his cheek, replaced by a displeased growl. More focused on finishing his work than on Swiftpaw's protests, Istaryl began to wipe the water surrounding the bucket, half-listening to the pitter patter of Swiftpaw's claws clacking on the floor.\n\nWithout as much as a warning, the dry, warm nose of the Pinestalker connected with his buttocks, hitting the ticklish spot right above his tail. The force of the sudden impact, the jarring sensation of having that particular area touched, and the sheer surprise worked in concert in sending the red drake stumbling forward. The shaft of the mop tripped his right leg, forcing his left to lunge forward and land straight into the water bucket.\n\n\"Reeeeeh??!!\" Istaryl cried out in both shock and revulsion when the cold stabs of the icy water assaulted his vulnerable hide and paw pads. He tried to instinctively shake his leg free of the bucket, but the dark, disgusting liquid sloshed around, drenching the floor. To make matters worse, his pants turned surprisingly heavy, and...\n\nWait, no! His pants! HIS PANTS!\n\nIstaryl drew his leg out in an instant, leaning against the fence of a pen, keeping the soaked leg to the side to avoid tainting his other, dry one. Dismay settled over him at the sight of the heavy, drooping cloth, imbibed with the foulest of waters.\n\n\"My...pants...\" Istaryl murmured, ears pinned back, jaw hanging in shock. How could this happen? Why to him? Why to his beloved pants?\n\nIstaryl's eyes shifted to a crooning Swiftpaw whose head inched closer to him, a forepaw hovering about the red drake's tail, ready to comfort him.\n\nIn the heat of the moment, Istaryl's ire for Swiftpaw was smothered by his growing hatred for wet clothing. Clean or not, the water made the material stick to his calf in a most insufferable fashion, the rest of it flaccid and dripping, a patter that drew Istaryl to the brink.\n\nHe hated wet clothing! So much, that he completely ignored Swiftpaw in his rush to unravel the rope and remove the devilish thing from his body.\n", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Hello there my dear followers. I have the great pleasure to bring you a short, four pages comic that my friend The_Secret_Cave originally wanted to create for his Patreon. However, since the characters in question were co-owned by me, I offered to give him a hand with the comic's story and also write a longer, more detailed story to better describe the context of this comic. I hope you will enjoy this collaboration of ours ^^

Note that, since this was a gift for The Secret Cave, the story will differ a little from the comic, simply to better represent his tastes and preferences. So, give it a read if you want to discover the subtle changes from the comic :P

Artwork is done by: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/thesecretcave/

Story is written by Cheetahs:http://www.furaffinity.net/user/cheetahs/

Istaryl(c) and Swiftpaw(c) are our characters

*

Istaryl pushed away the oversized nose creeping from his side without even bothering to reprimand Swiftpaw. He had been stuck in here for the better part of the day while his rider did who knew what throughout the village.

"Isn't the promise of a relaxing fur brushing session enough for you? Fine then," Istaryl said, shoving Swiftpaw back a second time. "I'll bathe you as well, but only after I'm done with the sweeping and the mopping. Much easier to clean a single pen than the entire stable, and I'm not sure I'll have the willpower for that after dealing with your rowdy self."

He dipped the end of his broom in the bucket of water usually reserved for the mopping session, as Undrethyl taught him. It not only helped soak the dust and prevent it from rising, but the smaller, more bothersome errant hay strands spread all over the stables stuck to the broom, making his task much less agonizing.

"Go to your pen," Istaryl ordered the Pinestalker, who made a habit to ignore every reasonable request from the hand that fed him while stabled here. Swiftpaw settled on his belly a few feet behind Istaryl, head rested atop his forepaws, downright dismayed with his failed attempts to seize Istaryl's attention.

"If you think a pleading look is enough to change my mind, you are sorely mistaken. See these?" He pointed at several of the muddy prints tarnishing the smooth, wooden floor of the stables. "Guess who the culprit is."

A heavy sigh fled Swiftpaw's great nose, his eyes shifting to the side guiltily, his sagged ears mirroring his deflating hope of finally being awarded some attention. It pained Istaryl to voice such hard truths to an intelligent animal not at fault with their imprisonment, but right now, he simply needed Swiftpaw out of his way.

"I want to play as well. To roll together in your hay bed, to comb through your beautiful mane, to rub your belly and tease your paw pads with the tip of a claw. Heh, you'll hate that, I guarantee." Istaryl stopped his musings for a second, resting against the broom handle. What stopped him from doing that? Principle? Devotion to an employer he knew next to nothing about?

"But we have our roles in this grand society we're part of." Though sarcasm tinted his words, Swiftpaw perked his ears, excitement blazing within his eyes at having his status acknowledged by someone, even if it was a lowly stable hand. In that regard, Pinestalkers weren't exactly bright. They took words as they were given to them, too enraptured by their capacity to understand speech to detect the underlying message.

"I wipe floors, and you carry the bony arse of a drake who hasn't even seen you today."

"Hrrrrr!" Swiftpaw retorted through a snarl, flaunting his fangs as Istaryl.

Blind loyalty was another flaw of the species. Regardless of their riders' intentions, goals and means to achieve them, the creatures first and foremost responded to devotion. It mattered little to Swiftpaw that Elargar abandoned him in the stables for the better part of two days, so long as he eventually returned.

Even if that would take weeks, months, perhaps even...years.

Istaryl shook his head at the impressionable Pinestalker, disappointed with how easily they could be exploited. "I still don't understand what you see in Elargar, but have it your way. I'm not one to pry into one's personal matters."

Swiftpaw's anger dispersed in an instant, replaced by his adorable--if perhaps a bit goofy--personality. He chirped and pawed at Istaryl in invitation, the high-pitched sounds a stark contrast to the stature of the male. How could a beast big enough to carry a drake produce such curious vocalizations?

"Sweeping first, mopping after, and only then will I join you."

"Grrrrh," Swiftpaw growled in resignation, crumpling onto his left side to stare at Istaryl with big, hollow eyes.

"That's what I think of this job as well, so you're not the only one."

Now that Swiftpaw officially ceased his pestering, Istaryl confidently placed his back to him, starting from the front of the stables and continuing the sweeping down to the middle. With the hay and debris out of the way, he grabbed the mop from its rack in one hand, the bucket in the other, and started on his second task.

He always enjoyed mopping. Seeing the flaking mud and dusty paw prints give way beneath the swirling movements of his mop stirred a strange satisfaction in him. The broom relocated the dirt and straw elsewhere, but the mop...the mop simply made the mess disappear!

It didn't take long for Istaryl to fall into the rhythm of work, his swings becoming broader, faster, more purposeful. For every ten strokes of his brush on the soon to be immaculate canvas, he drenched the mop into the increasingly darker water, thus make sure that he cleaned the mud instead of simply spreading it around.

"Last round before I dump this bucket and get a clean one," he mumbled a reminder to himself. So focused was he on the floor, that he only registered the speck of beige and grey growing on the side of his vision far too late.

"Ack!" Istaryl yelped, almost tripping on Swiftpaw's oversized foot. "Why would you even...oh," the red drake cut his rant short when he realized that Swiftpaw had settled on his haunches inches away from the wet portion of the floor. He not only avoided stepping on Istaryl's work with his grimy paws, but actually seemed entranced by the miracles his mop had performed.

"What do you think?" He boasted to the Pinestalker who stared at the glistening hardwood floor. "Much better than what I found when I came in. I can tell you appreciate cleanliness as much as we do. Otherwise, this mane would be all tangled up."

He shifted the mop to the other hand to run his fingers through Swiftpaw's dark brown mane, the hairs soft and sleek. They flowed between Istaryl's claws like the lazy waters of a slow, peaceful river, neither tangled nor brittle. Was that specific to the species? Or did Elargar have a hand to play in Swiftpaw's neat, healthy look?

"Just gotta swap this bucket for a clean one and then finish the rest of the stables. Not long until I can fully dedicate myself to you, eh?"

Istaryl rewarded the Pinestalker for his patience by gently scratching under the prominent fur of his cheek, his whole hand sunken beneath the tan, silky fur. Swiftpaw's eyes began to close ever so slowly in relaxation, the mellow purr igniting in his throat a testimony to his enjoyment. Istaryl rolled his hand in circular patterns across his cheek, kneading at the fluff as if it was dough, relishing its caress against his smooth hide.

"Just stay put. I'm almost done."

Swiftpaw's purr died in his throat as soon as Istaryl's hand parted from his cheek, replaced by a displeased growl. More focused on finishing his work than on Swiftpaw's protests, Istaryl began to wipe the water surrounding the bucket, half-listening to the pitter patter of Swiftpaw's claws clacking on the floor.

Without as much as a warning, the dry, warm nose of the Pinestalker connected with his buttocks, hitting the ticklish spot right above his tail. The force of the sudden impact, the jarring sensation of having that particular area touched, and the sheer surprise worked in concert in sending the red drake stumbling forward. The shaft of the mop tripped his right leg, forcing his left to lunge forward and land straight into the water bucket.

"Reeeeeh??!!" Istaryl cried out in both shock and revulsion when the cold stabs of the icy water assaulted his vulnerable hide and paw pads. He tried to instinctively shake his leg free of the bucket, but the dark, disgusting liquid sloshed around, drenching the floor. To make matters worse, his pants turned surprisingly heavy, and...

Wait, no! His pants! HIS PANTS!

Istaryl drew his leg out in an instant, leaning against the fence of a pen, keeping the soaked leg to the side to avoid tainting his other, dry one. Dismay settled over him at the sight of the heavy, drooping cloth, imbibed with the foulest of waters.

"My...pants..." Istaryl murmured, ears pinned back, jaw hanging in shock. How could this happen? Why to him? Why to his beloved pants?

Istaryl's eyes shifted to a crooning Swiftpaw whose head inched closer to him, a forepaw hovering about the red drake's tail, ready to comfort him.

In the heat of the moment, Istaryl's ire for Swiftpaw was smothered by his growing hatred for wet clothing. Clean or not, the water made the material stick to his calf in a most insufferable fashion, the rest of it flaccid and dripping, a patter that drew Istaryl to the brink.

He hated wet clothing! So much, that he completely ignored Swiftpaw in his rush to unravel the rope and remove the devilish thing from his body.
", "writing": "", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "", "pools_count": 0, "title": "Perks of Stablekeeping 1", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "image/png", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "2", "name": "Nudity", "description": "Nonsexual nudity exposing breasts or genitals (must not show arousal)", "rating_id": "1" }, { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "1", "type_name": "Picture/Pinup", "guest_block": "f", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "1", "views": "2391" }