“S...shut up!” Soarin stammered, cocking his head to cover his loins. Angrily glaring over at the pair of pegasi, feeling the blood rush to his face, he furrowed his brow.
“So that’s why he’s so fast!” Thunderlane snickered. Trotting around his fellow Wonderbolt, trying and failing to get another peek at the stallion’s goods, the senior flier shoved him away.
Moving from behind a row of lockers, Spitfire stepped out of her flight suit and kicked the garment aside. “What’s all the ruckus?”
“Nothing! Thunder’s being an ass!” Soarin bleated.
Turning to face the captain, Thunder snapped a sloppy salute. “Sorry, Ma’am. Soarin and I where - Snrk - j...just comparing aerodynamics…”
Glancing between the pair, an insidious grin split Spitfire’s muzzle. “Lemme guess, you saw Soarin’s tic-tac?”
The two stallions fell silent, staring impassively at the ranking officer, before Thunder burst into laughter. Soarin’s blush deepened and he shifted about uncomfortably, put on the spot about his woeful lack of endowment; although his package may have marginally increased his aerial speed and maneuverability, he’d hoped that their newest member wouldn’t have pointed it out. Turning away and tucking his tail, the embarrassed stallion tried to ignore them.
Despite praying he would grow with age, the sky blue pony’s equipment hadn’t matured with the rest of him. Even when fully erect, he was only a couple of inches long - hell, on particularly cold days, the stupid thing practically became an innie! His colt-like tool would have been a source of immeasurable shame, had it not been for the infuriating fact that somehow, even though he wished he were bigger, having his size scoffed at got him inexplicably worked up.
“His tic-tac!!!” Thunder guffawed.
Wheeling around, compelled to defend himself, Soarin glowered over at the blithesome pegasus. “I bet yours isn’t much bigger!”
“Soarin, please, we both know that’s not true. For buck’s sake, you can see the bulge in his suit from nearly a hundred yards away,” Spitfire attested, affixing the frazzled flier a smug grin.
“And it’s not like I haven’t seen you looking,” Thunder began. Turning to the side and lifting one hind leg, he gave both ponies a clear view of his groin. “I mean, it is kind of hard to miss this thing…”
While it wasn’t like Soarin had actively tried to look at the newly recruited Wonderbolt’s junk, in that moment, he found himself openly staring. The log-like imprint of something massive lay barely concealed beneath the skin-tight fabric of the pegasus’ suit. Swallowing hard, praying it was some sort of trick, he dragged his eyes off the obscene swell and to the stallion’s face.
“That’s stuffed, it has to be,” he weakly attested.
“Oh it’s no bluff, but if you’re wanting more proof, maybe we should get a side-by-side comparison,” the captain mused.
As if Soarin hadn’t felt anxious enough as it was, the mare’s statement sent his stomach into knots. There were perilously times he’d heard her use that tone before, but none of them were good. Glancing over at her, making a concerted effort not to look her in the face, he watched her steadily approach.
“You heard me, Commander, on your back this instant,” she insisted, tapping a hoof to a nearby bench.
The elongated seat, positioned between two rows of lockers, was remarkably wide and designed to allow two ponies to rest back to back. Ordinarily, the furniture was used to help the Wonderbolts don or doff their attire, although it certainly had other uses. Having some vague notion for what his captain was up to, Soarin gulped.
Scrunching his snout, he kept his eyes glued to the floor. “B...but -”
“The only butt I want is yours on this bench pronto!” Spitfire barked. Reaching up to her collar, she started unzipping her uniform. “After a nice practice session like we just had, I think I’m in the mood to rest on my favorite seat.”
“Favorite seat?” Thunder parroted, piquing a brow and looking to the captain in confusion.
“Ya see - Mmmph -” the mare grunted, peeling herself out of the outfit, “since good ‘ol Soarin here ain’t exactly equipped to service his wingmares, we make use of his face.”
The slate grey pegasus balked at the assertion, looking between the two in shock. “You’re kidding?”
Giggling to herself, Spitfire pulled her torso out of the snug garment. “Nah, not at all. It’s really the only thing he’s good at outside of flying. Do you think it’s a coincidence that he really likes pie?”
“Do we have to do this?” Soarin murmured. Despite his protest, he dutifully rolled onto his back atop the bench. While he didn’t have much to show off, he ground his thighs together and silently prayed they wouldn’t notice how hard he was.
“What’s with all the whining? It’s not like you normally complain about this,” the mare grumbled. Kicking her suit into a laundry hamper in the corner, she directed her attention to the supine stallion. “Is it because Fleetfoot isn’t here to peg you?”
Bolting upright, heedless of his erection, Soarin gawked at the captain. “Seriously?!?”
“Wait wait wait,” Thunder interjected. Shaking his head and stepping closer to the two, he incredulously squinted over at the ranking officer. “Fleetfoot pegs him?”
“You bet your bottom bit she does. We thought she was making a joke when she first offered to do it, but she had good ‘ol Soarin mewling like a mare in heat! Lemme tell ya, there’s nothing like having a stallion moan into your snatch while he’s getting railed,” Spitfire remarked, nonchalantly stretching her legs. “Why? You wanting to get some action?”
The casual way the two were talking about using him was the final straw for Soarin - that was, until he noticed the twitching, growing bulge beneath the rookie. His pucker involuntarily twitched and his mouth began to water, seeing the mohawked pegasus’ excitement. Though he hadn’t even been screwed by a stallion before, he couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like.
Ever since Fleetfoot had first used a strapon on him, he’d slowly developed a penchant for anal. Part of him realized it was about the emasculation and degradation, knowing most colts could put him to shame, but that did little to detract from his budding fetish - hell, he’d even gone out and purchased a few marital aids for himself over the last few months! Openly marveling at Thunder’s steadily expanding stallionhood, his lustful gaze didn’t go unnoticed for long.
“You’re thinking about it, aren’t ya,” Spitfire teased in his ear, having capitalized on his dazed state. “Bet having something that big in you would make you feel even smaller than you usually do, wouldn’t it?”
“I...I don’t…” Soarin sputtered, unable to look away from his companion’s crotch.
“I’m game if he is,” Thunder blurted.
Grinning from ear to ear, the mare hopped up onto the bench and smiled down at the smitten stallion. “Well hot darn, looks like we got ourselves a party! Rookie, get that suit off and put that salami you’ve been smuggling against his vienna sausage! I want to get a good look at this myself!”
Soarin’s mouth hung agape, as Thunder steadily undressed. Considering it was their first time changing together, he’d never really gotten a good look at the recruit - that being said, the guy was a total stud. Bit by bit, the beefcake’s chiseled body was slowly revealed until the garment came to rest just over the prodigious swell at his underbelly. Transfixed, he mutely awaited the unveiling.
With glacial speed, Thunder pulled the taut fabric over his engorged stallionhood. The meaty pillar, a shade darker than the pegasus’ coat, was downright awe inspiring. Sporting a fat medial ring and delectable looking vein snaking along one side, it immediately made the foal-dicked stallion question feel immeasurably inadequate. He wasn’t into stallions - at least, he didn’t think he was, but the sight was painfully arousing.
Soarin honestly couldn’t say how long he sat there ogling his teammate, but the show was put to an abrupt end. At some point or another, while Thunder had been putting on his impromptu burlesque show, the captain had climbed onto the bench behind him. Gently grasping his head and pushing him onto his back, the spell was broken.
“You’re in the way,” Spitfire groused, waving Thunder over. “I can’t see that monster against your baby carrot with you sitting up like that.”
Numbly looking up at his superior, a movement to Soarin’s side caught his eye. Smirking over at him, having discarded his uniform, Thunder strutted towards his lower half. With his rump perched on the edge of the bench, he instinctively spread his hind legs for the approaching stallion. As far as he was concerned, he was outranked, outnumbered, and outgunned, so there was little he could do but acquiesce to their scandalous request.
As his thighs parted, his pitiable prick sprang into view. While his tool lacked in size, it partially made up for in enthusiasm. Standing tall, all two inches of it, his dick was so hard that it nearly hurt. How and why he was so suddenly turned on was a bit of a mystery, since he refused to consider himself anything but a staunch heterosexual, but it was abundantly clear that he was more than a little worked up.
“Alright, here we go,” Thunder muttered. Rearing back and shuffling forward, he placed his forehooves to either side of the reclined stallion’s torso.
With the captain looming over him, stepping over his head and bringing her slickened marehood above his face, Soarin wasn’t sure where to look. Sadly for him, any possible options were outright lost as the captain squatted down and ground her nethers against his face. He could still hear, since her legs were splayed, but his vision was eclipsed by her dock and sculpted buns.
Still a bit surprised by the sudden development, something large, hot, and surprisingly weighty was laid on his groin. It felt like a leg was pressed against him, for all intents and purposes, though he knew that wasn’t the case - no, there was only one thing it could have been. As velvety skin of the immense appendage came to rest beside his package.
“If you could see the view from here,” Spitfire reverently breathed, doubtlessly staring down at the pair of diametrically opposite tools. Rocking her hips forward and back, smearing the stallion’s face with her nethers, she smugly chuckled to herself. “You can start any time now…”
Dutifully drawing his tongue over the mare’s entrance, tasting the sour and salty juices from her slavering depths, Soarin dutifully obeyed. If nothing else, getting her off would prove as a distraction for the ignominy he was subjected to. Putting his lips to work, gently suckling upon her winking clit, the disparaging commentary continued unabated.
“I thought it was kinda tiny, but I didn’t know he was this small,” Thunder remarked, tauntingly slapping his stallionhood against his teammate’s diminutive member. “Heck, I think Rumble is bigger than this guy.”
Spitfire shifted above him, possibly nodding, before continuing her scathing critique. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Most colts would probably put him to shame.”
Though Soarin screwed his eyes closed and did his darnedest to drown out the diatribe, his body betrayed him. Pre-cum leaked from his prick, trailing down his minute shaft and towards his groin. Size notwithstanding, his cock had always been extraordinarily sensitive to any form of contact - sure, he jokingly mused that it made him a better lover, but the fact was that he was both small and a relatively quick shot in bed.
Bludgeoning his meaty dick against the pinned pegasus’ puny package, Thunder stifled a laugh. “You weren’t kidding, he really does like this.”
“You have no idea,” Spitfire responded, bearing more weight on her subordinate. “This one time, after taking turns with his face, he came just from me blowing on it.”
“I did no - Mmmph?!?” Soarin mutely protested, as the captain’s marehood was smashed against his muzzle.
“Instead of whining, how about you get to work,” she groused. Leaning forward, taking care to leave her loins firmly against his lips, she playfully flicked a forehoof to his tiny tool. “Bet you’d be squirming like crazy if I started toying with it.”
“Or we could just…” Thunder trailed off, rubbing his shaft against his petitely hung companions cock.
Sure enough, the additional stimulation was tantamount to torture for Soarin. Writhing in place, with his wings flitting out to his sides, he fitfully bucked his hips. It wasn’t like he wanted to end up humping at his teammate, but his arousal was more than he could bear. Moaning into the succulent marehood on his snout, he hoped they’d mistake his muffled noises as a complaint.
Though he did everything in his power not to enjoy himself, the one-two punch of attention from the pair thwarted his efforts. Outranked and subjugated by one, while utterly emasculated by the other, he tried to think of something - anything to keep himself from dwelling on the situation. Try as he might, the overwhelming rapture of being tormented forced him to his limit.
Out of the blue, the rookie slowed to a halt. “Is...is he starting to flair?”
“Hang on,” Spitfire huffed, begrudgingly pushing herself up and allowing the stallion to gasp beneath her. As she moved forward, going cheek to cheek with the newbie, she squinted down at the wildly throbbing prick. “I think it is? Honestly, it’s kinda hard to tell.”
“Well how can you normally tell? Does he just cum and start crying?” Thunder jested, taking a step back and lowering his head to inspect the senior flier’s goods.
“Basically, yeah,” the captain dismissively stated. “He doesn’t always cry, but it’s pretty common for him to start whimpering a lot,” she added. Craning her head to the side, she peered over at the new recruit’s rigid length. “You wanna see what I mean?”
“Please no,” Soarin dejectedly whispered. Being bullied had been bad enough, but cumming in front of Thunder would be downright mortifying - still, some perfidious part of him wanted them to follow through with their plan. As much as it shamed him to admit it, there was a masochistic side which reveled in being ridiculed.
It was hard to put his hoof on why such treatment got him excited, since it was something that any reasonable stallion would become incensed over, but he had a few theories. Since he was so small downstairs, he was left to presume his subconscious had developed the fetishistic fondness as some sort of coping mechanism. In a twisted way, the rancorous joy he felt towards his plight did make the shame of having a micro dick more bearable - if only just.
“Not even if I…” Spitfire purred, dressing her hoof down his abdomen and towards his groin.
Though Soarin thought he was about to be subjected to a hoof job, quickly discovered the mare had something much more crafty in mind. Instead of toying with his prick, she shuffled forward, stepped over him, and cautiously turned to face him. As she wickedly grinned down at him, she sank to her haunches and ground her crotch against his mini-member.
“Hey, newbie, you said you’re pent up, right?” she asked, coolly reaching back and slapping her flank. “How about you show tic-tac here how to really rut a mare.”
Situated as she was, with her rump hanging between her second in command’s thighs, Thunder could easily mount her and do the deed. As unorthodox as the arrangement was, Soarin felt torn. On one hoof, the thought of having a mare plowed on top of him was extraordinarily demeaning - on the other, he was more turned on than he’d ever been. Spreading his thighs a bit more, while the captain perched over his waist, he quietly gnawed his lip.
“Don’t have to tell me twice!” Thunder blurted.
With Soarin’s view obstructed, only able to see Spitfire on his lap, noticed a pair of dark grey forelegs wrap around her hips. A fleeting second passed, before the mare groaned and rocked forward. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was happening, even though he couldn’t see it, and it caused his lust to wage outright war with his dignity.
“F...fuck,” Spitfire moaned, as her face twisted in pleasure. “It feels even bigger than it looks.”
Peering down his chest, Soarin watched her grind against his prick. The sight alone was provocative, but the sensation - sweet Celestia, the sensation was heavenly. Though he was fully aware that he wasn’t the source of her bliss, since his stallionhood was merely snuggled against the supple flesh of her mound, he wondered just how much joy she derived from having him beneath herself. It wasn’t like she was getting any physical stimulation from him, yet he had little doubt that her penchant for sadism was pleased with his impotence.
Steeling his resolve, with little choice left in the matter, he knit his brow and started thrusting. If he was going to be pinned down with a pair of ponies screwing on him, he may as well try to assert his lamentable lack of dominance - at least, that’s what he told himself. The fact was that, like it or not, the two were going to do as they pleased - as such, instead of just laying there like a log, he took part.
Heedless or uncaring to his futile attempts, Thunder drove into Spitfire. Driven forward with each thrust, the mare’s pitch raised an octave. Ever the advantageous and spirited soul, she pushed herself back to meet his plunges. The sound of his hips slapping against her ass filled the air, though that wasn’t the only thing to heighten Soarin’s arousal.
As the large stallion rhythmically pounded into the captain, his weighty nuts swung forward and slapped Soarin’s tush. The steady impacts only served to remind him of how small he really was, but they didn’t stop him from trying his best. Gritting his teeth, he feverishly humped at his superior. Size be darned - helpful or not, at least he’d feel like he was making some contribution to the impromptu three-way.
Like a horny colt on prom night, Soarin jackhammered away. As the seconds dragged on, the absurdity of the situation gave way to something all the more compelling. He imagined that the rapture and whorish noises of the mare were because of him and him alone. Gripping her thighs and pulling out all the stops, his passion soared.
“D...don’t stop,” Spitfire pleaded.
As Thunder’s pace quickened, so too did Soarin’s. Regardless of how effective their lovemaking was, each stallion moved with an unbridled fury; each sought to please the mare and they’d be damned if the other’s presence would deter them. With one pistoning her canal and the other battering her crotch, they pushed themselves to the limit.
“I...I don’t think I can…” Soarin stammered, teetering on the brink. Through sheer force of will, he fought back the welling tide of ecstasy - that was, until the captain issued a command.
“Yes,” she howled, quivering on him, “cum in me!”
With those fateful words, Soarin’s fate was sealed. The muscles about his frame tensed, his back arched, and the button-like tip of his length expanded ever so slightly. Braying to the heavens, as a few meager spurts of his cream painted the mare’s groin and lower abdomen, he met his climactic end. Though it wasn’t exactly coitus, it was the closest he’d ever come to the momentous event.
Slowly but surely, a warm euphoria settled over him. He couldn’t exactly tell when Thunder had finished up, but the stallion dismounted and unsteadily stepped back. Blinking back tears of joy, grinning from ear to ear, he beamed up at the captain.
“If it was as good for you as it was for me,” she cooed, leaning in and pecking his cheek, “maybe we can do it again sometime…”
It was all Soarin could do to eagerly nod. While the three of them had been going at it, he actually felt like a stallion! Even if it wasn’t an actual lay, it was a damn close second and he’d be more than happy to reenact it. Watching her shakily get to her hooves and ease herself off the bench, he noticed the cum dribbling down her inner thigh. Though the foal-batter wasn’t his, the thought he took stock that he’d had some part to play with giving her what she needed…
