The Palace was just so darn big.
Red Gala felt like her head was spinning as she took in the sights of the great ballroom of the Canterlot Royal Palace. Big ol' columns at least three times as wide as she was tall towered up into the ceiling, and even the smallest windows were stained glass displays that could've fit a whole darn apple tree inside! And this was just the ballroom?
Her hooves took her stumbling through the oversized parlor, fumbling one step at a time. Gala had never been what some fancy ponies might've called "graceful"—at six and a half feet, and absolutely stuffed with muscle, she was a darned titan of an earth pony, and she darn well knew it. Twenty-plus years of applebucking had left her hindlegs with a pair of corded thighs that could have crushed a smaller pony's skull between 'em...and a bumbling, oafish gait that made her feel like she'd downed half a barrel of cider before coming here.
Dang. Gala swallowed a yelp as she dodged past a swaying couple. How in the hay had she even managed to get near the dance floor? As she yanked herself backward, she stumbled against a pair of smaller ponies—stallions, she thought dazedly, judging by the fact that they came up to her shoulders at all instead of being able to pass comfortably beneath. Behind her, she could feel her flank tensing anxiously; Applejack's tailor friend was a straight whiz at sewing up fashion, but even his gown hadn't been enough to restrain Gala's oversized figure entirely.
She found her hoofing and paused for a moment to catch her breath. Chewing on her lip, she found herself desperately wishing for a piece of straw to chew on. At least then she'd look thoughtful, instead of just looking clumsy as heck. Around her, the festivities of the Grand Galloping Gala whirled and spun with absolute grace, and Gala felt a heat rising in her cheeks. No one needed to be unkind or inhospitable. She just knew. She glanced down at her two left forehooves and sighed. Then she set off again.
Applejack was the best lil' brother she could've asked for—though lil’ Applebuck was a darn tootin' red ribbon—but even his generosity in inviting her here seemed a little misplaced. Gala eyed the buffet table for a second and then discarded the idea; she could go for some grub, but knowing her appetite, she'd have the whole Canterlot upper crust ogling her as she stuffed half the feast down her gullet. So instead of filling the rumbling emptiness in her belly, she just sighed, shrugged, and ambled away aimlessly.
What had AJ had in mind for bringing her here, anyway? Her brother loved comin' down here with all his friends, and Gala sure didn't hold one mite of a grudge against 'em for it. Other ponies liked socializing, and going out with the crowds. Gala knew 'Jack had meant well...but if she were being damn well fair with herself, she honestly wasn't sure what she could be doing in a place like this.
"Hey, gorgeous!" Gala paused mid-step as a slouching, dark shape stumbled into her path. Swaying with a noticeable scent of alcohol, a blue-furred unicorn pulled himself just barely upright and grinned up—and up at her. Gala had a horrible feeling that some party games were universal, and wondered if this one would lead with "I like 'em spunky," or "I like 'em big."
He grinned toothily, leering up at her broad chest that just barely overshadowed him. "You're a big one, huh? I love 'em big."
Vindicated, she grunted. "Nope," she mumbled. Shy as she were, propositions weren't much new to her—though flirts from a half-drunk aristocratic partygoer were new territory. She found herself blushing, though, with more than a bit of awkwardness as the pint-sized stallion swayed a little closer.
"Why don't we find a lil' closet to snuggle up in, huh?" he cooed. He didn't even glance at her; even her kneecaps came close to meeting his collarbone. "Or a big one," he added, grinning lecherously. "Gonna need to fit all of you in, beautiful."
Gala's lip curled distastefully—and as the unicorn took another tottering step forward, she swiftly stepped around him. "Nope," she said again—and ignored his pleas, even as his hoofsteps clopped and then slowly faded against the tiled marble floor. He might have been desperate but her long strides outpaced his easily, with thighs as thick around as his torso rippling with power beneath the thin fabric of her dress.
Behind her, though, she could still hear the shrill calls of her "suitor" muffled by the crowd. Sighing, Red Gala glanced around for a place she could escape to—it didn't matter where. She'd been used to the great outdoors, but somehow, the massive enclosed space gave her a kind of inverse claustrophobia. It was too big, too open, too aimless. She needed to find somewhere to put herself. It didn't matter if it was crowded; she didn't like being pressed in one bit, but standing out in a sea of chatterers like a lone tree after a storm was just about making her wince.
Squinting over the heads of the crowd, Gala spotted it—a crowd of ponies crowded around...something. She didn't much care what they were looking at; she was desperate for something—anything—to do. Purpose was what drove a fit working mare like Red Gala, and purpose, however temporary, was what pushed her double-sized strides across the tiled floor as she made her way toward the crowd.
Her great shoulders pumped, broad chest flexing as she broached the edge. A smaller pony yelped at her—some mare that barely came up to her hocks—and while Gala wasn't usually any kind of pony to want to touch it up with strangers, she figured that she could just cram her big ol' self through quickly enough without causing any fuss at all. Sometimes, ornery was a better policy than honesty. She did wince as her big flank whacked the yelping little mare in the shoulder, and did her best to grunt out an apology as she strode deeper into the crowd.
Goddess—what in the hay were all these ponies looking at? As tall as she was, Gala couldn't quite see whatever was going on in the middle; ponies on the inner edge of the circle were standing on boxes and chairs, all staring at and wildly cheering for...something. What exactly that was, she had no clue—but as a whiff of something hot and heavy hit her nostrils, that vague curiosity was replaced with something else entirely: interest.
Gala's nostrils flared, and she paused in her step. She froze, a hoof the size of a salad plate halting in its advance across the floor. Her eyes closed shut as her unshorn fetlocks settled around her ankles. She inhaled deeply—and grunted, a little shiver going down her spine. Dang it, but she knew that scent! It was familiar, enticing...and it made her clench a little bit back there.
The scent curled inside of her lungs and belly and yanked her forward—hard. Pupils dilating, Gala moved to bull her way through the crowd, now all but deaf to the protests of the smaller guests. She could feel her potent thighs flexing, her taut flanks pumping as she strode her way to the front. She could see it now—there! A pair of tall blue ears, a whisping, deep-blue mane...
With a grunt, Red Gala finally stumbled her way into the front of the crowd—and froze once again. Tree-trunk thighs and a bulky barrel fossilized in a heartbeat as she identified exactly why that scent had been so familiar. Even now, it teased her senses, rubbing itself against the space between her back legs as its gloriously gorgeous source bobbed lazily in the air.
The strong, charactered face of the stallion in front of her wasn't personally familiar, but Gala had seen 'Jack fraternizing with him and his brother enough that she knew exactly who he was. Plus, she thought, drawing in a sharp breath, what kind of equine would she be if she didn't even recognize Prince Artemis when she saw him?
The breath brought more of that scent to scorch her by the way of her lungs. Her body was becoming convinced that it already knew all it needed to about this pony, anyway.
Prince Artemis—his lustrous coat a deep blue, his star-speckled mane glittering as it swayed behind him—lay back on a great golden chair, his wings flared out behind him. Perhaps one of only three ponies to be truly larger than Gala herself (she knew Solaris himself to be larger still, and that one Appleoosan Clydesdale mare had wound up nudging above her by barely a quarter-foot), Artemis was more than big—he was enormous. Even sitting down, nestled casually in his gleaming throne, he towered above the crowd around him.
Great muscles flexed in his legs—just a bit bigger than Gala's, she noted objectively, without any hint of jealousy—and his broad chest bulged proudly with inner strength. His hooves, near twice the size of her own, were encased in a set of moonsilver slippers; one was dropped lazily over the arm of its owner's chair, and the other...
Gala's mouth went dry, though she had the strangest sensation she wanted to drool like a pup. The other was wrapped tenderly around a pillar of pulsating flesh large enough to make her blood run cold.
"Ah," Artemis murmured, a smirk tugging on his regal face. Not quite a sneer, nor a leer, his grinning muzzle betrayed a total sense of comfort and self-assurance with the world around him. His chiseled chest lowered as he breathed out, his well-kept eyelashes fluttering with obvious pleasure as his wings stiffened out behind him. "My dear lady Upper Crust—your voice may have been shrill, but your torso is positively delicious.
His left hoof stroked against a great, throbbing mass of black that Gala could have honestly mistaken for a smaller version of the pillars decorating the ballroom. Other than the smell, of course. All of the ponies around them were well-dressed, clad in dresses and suits and slacks as well as quadrupedal equines could manage—even Red Gala had taken the time to dress up for the occasion. But the Prince was nude, and astoundingly so. A gigantic stallionhood, larger than anything she'd ever dreamed of, let alone seen, stuck out from his exposed crotch in obscene incorrigibility. Prince Artemis sighed happily, his broad shoulders pressing back against his seat as he stroked his mega-member with obvious glee.
Longer than half again her height, and wide enough to swallow up a pony's torso, the dang thing could have been a tree trunk on its own, never mind her thighs. Red Gala gulped, and felt her back legs both trying to spread apart and pull together at the same time. She was a big ol' mare from a family of big mares, and more than one stallion had left her feeling empty...but she'd be damned if the sight of that thing didn't leave her gaping in downright fear.
Speaking of swallowing ponies down... Gala's eyes widened as she noticed a pair of—no, yes, those were hooves sticking out from Artemis' triumphant flare. His enormous cockslit, two feet across and a good quarter that in height, flared and blurbled as the two limbs poking out from its dark depths wiggled helplessly down.
Artemis' eyes squeezed shut, his heavy body shivering lightly, and he grunted with a happy grin. "So eager, my lady," he said loudly, in a cadence almost approaching a moan. "Ready to join the last competitor, I see?"
A soft whine reached Gala's ears, which perked up in shock. Her eyes widened, and she felt her hooves root in place as she realized that she was hearing screaming—squealing, perhaps, as Artemis' cock's captive struggled to break free of its mighty grip.
She could see the very faint outline of the mare—the hooves looked like a mare's, at least—pressing against the sides of the shaft as the suction of Artemis' cock vacuumed her down. With a final wail, the mare's flailing limbs vanished completely into the gaping slit, and a single, powerful flex of the Prince's cock actually seemed to gulp her down its length. Gala’s cheeks paled as she saw the outline slide swiftly down and then disappear into one of the Prince's gigantic nuts; at easily four feet in diameter each, they seemed almost to gurgle hungrily as their victim was swallowed up into their depths. She could actually see the mare's shape squirming, struggling within that gigantic testicle—and then she watched those struggles fade, weakening, as its volume slowly collapsed.
"Mm, yes." Artemis licked his lips and patted his great nutsack approvingly. A final moan reached the crowd's ears from his churning nuts, and then the mare fell silent, the outline having faded completely. With a lustful grunt, Artemis smacked his chops and gave one massive testicle a slap; in response, it sloshed and wobbled like a water-balloon, its seed-loaded contents clearly stuffed beyond any reasonable amount. Their victim's mass—for clearly, Gala noticed, with wide eyes, that was where it had gone—had left them comfortably bloated, adding on another six inches in diameter as their liquid contents continued to swell.
"Mm-mmff!" Prince Artemis grunted happily, squirming sensually against the back of his throne as the glorping and gurgling within his gargantuan nuts finally came to an end. Groaning softly, he squeezed his enormous cock with both hooves, tracing one across the length of a vein as wide as a smaller stallion's foreleg, and gave the audience a wink. "I do love a squirmer."
A beat later, he coughed. "But!" Artemis said, clapping his hooves together in a snap that brought the attention of the crowd back to the moment—"one more loss doesn't mean that the competition ends, yes?" He grinned toothily, a gleam of perfect white flashing from behind his lips. "After all," he grunted, giving his gigantic ballsack another smack while his other foreleg flexed with muscle, "it just means that one of you gets an even larger load in the end."
Red Gala started when a mare beside her—the little thing was so tiny that she'd barely even noticed her—squealed in delight before falling into a dead faint against Gala's foreleg. Somewhat awkwardly, Gala tried to remove her—and then stared when she saw the sheer number of mares panting with obvious lust in Artemis' direction.
Something firm prodded her in the side. Blinking rapidly, Gala turned to her other side and saw a pair of light brown ears flicking impatiently in the bottom of her vision. Biting her cheek, she glanced down, and met the gaze of a bright-eyed earth pony mare. The mare was grinning up at her in a manner that could only be described as "cheeky."
"Wonderin' what they're up to, love?" The mare's voice was chipper, and her accent indisputably Trottish.
Gala blinked again, and then did her best not to look too nonplussed. "Lil' bit."
The Trottish mare burst out laughing. "Please, love—you're staring!" She winked and held out a hoof. "Doctor Whooves—I believe I've seen you around Ponyville on a few business trips. Red Gala, I presume?"
Feeling somewhat out of her depth, Red Gala took the hoof and shook it awkwardly in her own. "Eeyup," she mumbled. A bit of her mane fell over her eyes, and she tried to look as though she hadn't just been ogling a mountainous, mammal-devouring stallionhood.
"Makes sense," Whooves went on. "Don't get many Ponyvillians 'round these fancy events. Save for those six special cases—but I wager you'd know all about them, wouldn't you?"
Without even giving Gala a chance to respond, Whooves continued. The mare was like a white-water river, all bubbling and rushing and gushing with so many crescendos and lilts and bouncing pitches to her voice that the quiet, plodding Gala soon felt her ears folding over.
"Now, this," Doctor Whooves continued—and then giggled, though it was closer to a hearty chuckle than anything. "This is a special event. Don't think the Canterlot folks have seen it for near-on a millenium. Well," she said, "little more, I should think. Long time. But it's a fun little competition that our good Prince Artemis holds—a contest for his hoof. Or," she added, with another cheeky grin, "his hard-on."
Red Gala's hide was already red, but she soon found herself blushing more crimson than her namesake as the words bounced around the inside of her skull. In the corner of her vision, she could just make out something else bouncing—or swaying, more like, its great, lazy mass somehow managing to lift a few inches off the ground as it stiffened and throbbed. "Contest?" she mumbled, barely able to hear her voice over the squeals and buzz of the crowd. "For his..."
"Eeyup!" Whooves chuckled again. "Fun little traditions, those old Lunarians had. Cute, really. But that's the truth of it—unlike his brother, Artemis has never really been the type of stallion to settle. He's a proud buck, that one—a bull, and a bull never goes anywhere without a proper herd. So he likes to add on a few members at any of these big ol'—well, they're not really celebrations, eh?" She finally took a breath, and winked. "Get-togethers, call 'em. But a big royal like him has a big appetite, and bigger standards. A stud of Artemis' size and stature? Only the best for him."
Despite herself, Gala found herself growing curious—and not just because she was trying to keep her eye off of the unbearably fat, juicy shaft that was slowly, seemingly against gravity, beginning to pull its way up into the air. "Like what?"
Whooves smirked. "Why, they'll have to fit him inside, of course." She held one foreleg out wide and flicked her ankle. Her smile grew mischievous. "All two-plus feet of that lovely little girth."
On reflex, Gala glanced back over at the Prince. He'd removed himself from his throne and was now on all fours—well, she decided, more like on all seven. His proud cock and both enormous balls as well rested proudly on the floor, the pair of globes pulsing with steady, groaning arousal behind his muscular hind legs. Meanwhile, the vast girth of the Prince's meaty shaft stuck out far in front of his chest; its medial ring, vast enough to resemble a full hoola-hoop, pushed out just below his chin, with the enormous mass of his member squished tenderly between his strong front thighs.
The floor clicked loudly as one of his great hooves stepped forward. Before him, leading the way like a herald from the old stories, the flare of his massive member glided across the floor on a bed of milky-white precum. Each twitch of his well-toned hips, each sway of his flicking tail made his pony-sized (ponies, she reminded herself) nuts rumble ominously across the floor—and in turn caused more of his musky, stallion lubricant to glorp out onto the tiles below his mighty cockslit. The smile never left Artemis' muzzle as he sauntered around the crowd, his great flare drooling a constant river of pre that could've probably watered and fed half the Apple orchard.
Not to mention an empty Apple mare, Gala thought privately. Then she blushed, eyes widening. Consarnit—was she falling under his spell too? She wasn't one of those squealing, screaming fillies—no sir!
"And of course," Doctor Whooves said casually, "the prize makes it well-worth their while."
Gala blinked. Right. It was a competition, or somethin'. "Prize?" she said.
Doctor Whooves' grin and slyly shifted ears were downright unnerving. "Why, royalty, lass," she said. "Hoof and offspring of the Prince himself. All the amenities of noble blood—and a princely stud to warm your bed every night." She snorted, nostrils flaring as she tossed her mane back over her shoulder. "Don't think that every one of these mares wouldn't kill for it."
"...Eeyup," Gala said, somewhat uncertainly. Her left ear twitched, and she felt her lower lip wobbling. Beneath her fluttering tail, she felt her traitorous nethers tightening with heat, even as her withers flexed anxiously. Screaming, city mares were one thing.
...But royalty?
Ah, darn it.
And the Prince himself was darn pretty—not like a mare, but with a nice, clean kinda look that made him look...strong. Toned. He didn't look like he put on airs, like the rest of these Canterlot folk, Red Gala decided, but the cocky grin on his face was one that an honest, humble Apple would've scrubbed off with a full weekend of hard work. All the same, it was damn hard to say he didn't deserve to at least feel cocky.
With his height, his massive member—from the floor to the top ridge—was almost shoulder height for most of the onlookers. It even towered above a few panting, groaning mares who'd all but prostrated themselves before it, gliding by regally on its lubricant bed of princely arousal. Red Gala had heard of royalty getting servants or something to hold onto a dress as it trailed after 'em, but Artemis' musky mega-nuts didn't seem to want any kind of help. Each one, easily large enough to fit an adult stallion curled up comfortably inside, squelched and groaned with ever-greater amounts of seed as the tree-sized member before them throbbed and flexed with obvious arousal.
And the smell of 'em—Goddess, she'd never smelt anything so deliciously male, so goddamn sexual and musky that it made her want to shove her rear end way up in the air and prep herself for a proper rutting. Red Gala was a no-nonsense mare, but even she had glanced longingly at some of the well-shaped colts in magazines she'd passed as a younger filly. With mares all but fainting—or more, with Gala wincing as one overwhelmed mare's squeal hinted at something much more volcanic—around her, it was only with the utmost strength that she managed to keep her shoulders squared and her needy flank clenched.
She was pretty damn proud of how well she'd managed to keep her tail from flagging at all...at least until another bushwhackin' wisp of that damned musk smogged up her lungs and socked her right in the crotch...though, admittedly, in the fun way. Red Gala sucked in a breath, eyes widening imperceptibly as her knees trembled.
Beside her, Doctor Whooves chuckled. "Feelin' it, eh?" she said. "Well, you're doing better 'n most, lass. These poor mares are falling over themselves to stuff that thing inside them, and never mind the consequences." Gala tried hard not to resent the good doctor's apparent aplomb and perpetually suggestive expression.
The sound of her cocky voice managed to yank Gala back out of her sex-driven descent. The big mare silently thanked her. "Consequences?" Red Gala asked.
Whooves coughed. "Well," she said, drawing out the word real long, "you saw those hooves sticking out earlier?"
Gala's ears went back. "Oh."
"Yeah..." Doctor Whooves shrugged helplessly. "Take it all inside of you, and you win his hoof. But if you can't..."
This time, her wicked grin really made Gala shiver. "If y'can't," Whooves said, winking, "then it takes all of you inside of it."
A strangled cry reached Gala's ears. Her head jerked up—and she saw a mare squeaking, pale with fright, as she struggled to break free of the voracious royal cock before her. It looked like she'd gotten a little too... friendly... with the passing Prince, and his wide-ranging cock had seen a meal and just slurped her hooves up. Three other mares had her gripped around the waist, and were doing their best to tug her free, but Prince Artemis just grinned down at them and chortled. The great suction of his stallionhood, his massive slit gaping large enough to fit a reasonably overweight stallion through, actually seemed to groan with hunger as the mare scrambled to yank her elbows-deep legs free.
A squelch of the great organ yanked her forward, almost sucking her up to her shoulders. Those great nuts churned behind the Prince's toned rump, his cum-factories churning and groaning as they prepared to be filled. With a final grunt, though, the three frantic mares succeeded in pulling their snared friend free—and all collapsed to the floor with a sequence of unladylike shrieks—not all of which were that frightened, come to think of it. The scene wasn't helped when, a heartbeat later, Prince Artemis' mighty cock throbbed and splattered the lot of them with a flood of precum. The mares' high-pitched squeals just made Artemis chuckle all the harder as gallons of sticky, liquid arousal rained down upon them.
"Eager little fillies," the Prince rumbled. He turned his smirk down onto the rest of the audience, and winked. "Though perhaps they weren't quite prepared." He gave his great organ a squeeze between his hind legs, and moaned obscenely as a fresh load of precum erupted to splatter across the interwoven, sticky mares.
From her position just behind him, Red Gala felt her ears fold flat against her head. Her pupils dilated, and she nickered softly.
"Don't look like too much fun for the loser, eh?" Doctor Whooves' voice was...softer, at least a little. "But it's all part of the fun—part of the game, really. And Artemis is happy either way..."
Gala nodded stiffly. Whooves raised an eyebrow, and glanced up at her.
"So?" Whooves said coolly, flicking a knowing grin onto her muzzle. "You thinking of throwin' in your hat, cowpony?"
Gala hesitated. A blush crept onto her face as she once again tried to ignore her own arousal—though the mounting heat of the furnace between her otherwise strong legs was getting almost impossible to push aside.
She shifted her well-made weight uncomfortably, the motion very nearly causing her to gasp as her sensitive lips were pressed between her bulging, muscular hind thighs. Gala felt a line of telltale wetness drip down the inside of her back leg, and flushed even harder. Goddess damn it—she was a grown mare! Not some filly flicking herself off to magazines of pretty colts.
But...all the same, her body knew what it wanted. What she wanted. And Prince Artemis was no colt—his arrogant smirk aside, he was the clearest stallion she'd ever seen. Coming from an Apple—and an Apple who brushed her way through crowds like they were paper—that was more than just a compliment.
And the prize—Red Gala bit her lip, her eyes very nearly crossing as she studied the floor below her. Royalty didn't have to worry about bits. Royalty didn't need to ask permission to expand a farm, or worry about medical bills when Grampy's ol' hip gave out. Royalty just had.
Royalty didn't have to worry about slick-talking ponies taking advantage of Gala's family when her hesitation struck her mute.
Could she throw away that opportunity? She might not have known this princely stud, but he was a stud—and a massive one, at that. Her spine shivered as she took in the sheer, overwhelming presence he had, his toned flank alone exuding sensuality. He was something primal, something literally out of Equestrian past, and his call flared in every motion and every inch of hide. Beside that, his massive, tree-thick organ almost looked comical.
A tree-thick organ that was more than happy to gobble failures down.
Was she scared?
It took her only a moment to answer that question. No, Red Gala decided. No Apple mare had ever run away from a big ol' monster, no matter how big or how mean. That cock looked awful big, and awful mean, but she'd bucked enough Everfree critters in the face to know how to handle an overeager predator. And he wouldn't be the first primal stud that learned to pull alongside an Apple mare in the harness. Gala's eyebrow furrowed, and she opened her mouth to reply—
"Well, then!" Doctor Whooves said brightly beside her. "Looks like you won't need to make that decision just yet—we've got another contestant in line!"
Gala startled. But she followed the Doctor's smug gaze, swiveling her head to the side. She hadn't quite heard it the first time, trapped in her thoughts as she'd been, but a shrill cry of querulous challenge still echoed over the now hushed-crowd. Craning her neck, the big mare could just barely see over Artemis' tall shoulder to a smirking, cream-white and clearly cream-fed mare.
"Well, Uncle?" the mare said with a haughty toss of her hoity-toity mane. "Is my challenge accepted?"
Uncle? Gala nearly choked on her own spit. But as the mare stared down the Prince, she had to admit that there were certain similarities: the long, elegant eyebrows; the toned, tapered waist, the...
Well. She blushed again. Both ponies' rumps were exceptionally large, but where Artemis' bulged with muscle, his...niece's bulged with a rather different kind of mass. It wasn’t unpleasant, mind you, if a pony fancied that kind of thing. Great globes of flesh, supple and round, towered over her corset-clad torso.
If Gala had expected Artemis to scoff or turn away, she'd been sorely mistaken. The Prince's voice was deep, but bereft of none of the rumbling amusement it had held earlier. "Why, my dear Bluebelle," the titanic stallion's voice reverberated. "I would be positively honored to lend my dear niece a chance at such an exciting competition."
Gala could have sworn that he'd turned to wink toward the crowd, though away from (Princess?) Bluebelle’s view.
Of course, Red Gala knew Bluebelle's type: uptight, snooty, and incredibly stubborn in their defiance to accept any sort of truth they didn't like. She carried herself with a different, pettier, and yet more vicious arrogance than Artemis' almost jovial taunting. It came as no surprise, then, when a thoroughly unpleasant grin rolled across the mare's face, as wicked and wrinkled as a rattler's.
"Well, Uncle," Bluebelle purred. She began to pace proprietarily around him, her well-fed body swaying with each sauntering step. And her body did sway—those great honkin' flanks of hers wobbled and smacked together; a pair of golden compasses, undoubtedly her Cutie Marks, jiggled like mad from the sides of her rump.
"One too many sweets suborned from the Palace kitchens, I'll wager." Doctor Whooves leaned in to Gala's side and flicked an ear against the larger mare's neck. Her voice was low, but amused, though there was an undercurrent of almost...contempt? "I'll bet she thinks she's the shapeliest, sexiest mare in this room.” Gala caught her rolling her eyes. “A pity even pears can get squishy when they’re overripe."
Gala couldn't stop a snicker at that. Well-fed Apples tended to resemble the fruits they so loved, but Bluebelle's great, wobbling rear was an impressive contrast to her otherwise slender figure. No doubt she thought it her best feature.
"I think it a pity that so many had to fail," Bluebelle went on, her voice high and haughty. She swept across the floor around her much larger Uncle's flank, that insufferable smirk flicking from one side of her mouth to the other. She tossed her mane over her shoulder yet again, as though she was trying to make sure everyone caught a glimpse of the move. "That's what happens, I suppose, when a commoner attempts to do the work of royalty."
"You think rather highly of yourself, niece" Artemis drawled. "Would you truly dismiss so flippantly the efforts of all these other eligible mares?"
"Pah!" Bluebelle snorted, and came to a stop. She'd circled him completely, and now stood with her side facing him, one forehoof lifted against her chest. "Simpering little fillies, the lot of them." Gala heard a growl behind her. "Not a one as worthy—as mighty as royal blood. Like myself, for example."
Artemis chuckled. With a great hoofstep that almost made the floor shake, he moved toward her and gaze down toward her smaller figure. The long shadow of the Prince of the Night seemed to already be working to consume Princess Bluebelle. "Such confidence," he growled. His muzzle turned up into a wolfish grin. "I agree—it's been too long since my brother outlawed familial breeding. I know I've been longing to turn you into a moaning broodmare since the day I set eye on that fat flank of yours."
Bluebelle's eyes shot wide open and her whole body went shock-still. Her cheeks blazed. "You—" she choked out—but Artemis wasn't done.
"Oh, the delectable wobble of it—like gelatin, or perhaps...marshmallows, are they called?" Artemis stroked his titanic shaft thoughtfully, and grunted as a great squelch of his balls sent another gallon of precum gushing across the floor before him. He paused, then shrugged, grinning again. "Oh, yes, dear niece. Such a fat-rumped little whore you are—I think I would enjoy breeding you the most."
He winked again; this time, Bluebelle was undoubtedly meant to see it. "That is," he added, cheekily, "if your underused cunt won't be blocked by those two planets you call a rump. We do, after all,” he said, rolling over her before she could respond, “have a certain need to get to the main event, I’m sure.”
Bluebelle all but screeched in fury. Gala wasn't certain if the enraged unicorn hadn’t left the ground entirely—her hooves were just waving about so wildly! Some nervous chuckles went up around the crowd, but were silenced when Artemis gazed out coolly out toward them. Cheeks blazing with crimson, a fuming Bluebelle stalked up to her uncle and scowled up at him with all of the fervor of an angry god.
She tried, anyway. Given that the petite Princess didn't even reach his immense cask-like chest, the overall effect was rather spoiled. Still, Gala thought, one eyebrow raising at the exchange, she could at least give her spirit some credit.
"I will win," Bluebelle snarled, glaring up at the Prince. "And when I do, I think I'll quite enjoy having a stud like you at my beck and call."
Artemis only chuckled. "Then by all means," he rumbled. With a flourish of his dinner plate-sized hoof, he gestured toward his tree-trunk cock. It trembled, flexing with arousal as the veins on its surface swelled and stiffened. "Your studding awaits."
Bluebelle didn't lower herself onto Artemis' shaft so much as slam herself down onto it. Taking it, Gala noted with grudging approval, like she already owned the cantankerous critter. As Artemis was standing, rather than sitting, the length of his member was squeezed tightly between his forelegs and belly, which forced its obscene heft down to press against the ground, rather than hovering above the marble in apparent defiance of gravity. Still, the grunting, gasping Bluebelle seemed to find a way onward, her shoulders shuddering as a low, rolling moan burst from her throat.
"Ooooh—yes." Her eyes rolled back, and her whole body seemed to shiver with satisfied lust. A thin line of drool slipped down her cheek, and she groaned, one hoof pushing back over her side to knead indulgently at her titanic tush. "You're so big inside of me, Uncle—but I knew I could take you. But oh, I'm so full!"
"Really?" Artemis sounded bemused. "I'm rather impressed, really. Because you've only taken the slit of my shaft."
Bluebelle's eyes widened. "No!" she said, nervously. Throat swallowing in rapid, sudden panic, she began to piston her broad hips back and forth, each slam of her padded rump against her uncle's massive flare sending ripples of motion through her well-proportioned rear. "I—I can feel you! Oh, and you're cumming!"
"That," Artemis said mildly, "is precum." He grinned toothily, and leered hungrily down at his struggling niece. True enough, Gala saw that her gigantic, plush rump hadn't even begun to slide down the Prince's massive girth. She remembered the great mass of his insatiable cockslit, remembered the way it had seemed to flex around the helpless mare it had swallowed down like a tremendous mouth. She shuddered, and felt some of her lust run cold.
Bluebelle nearly choked. "N-no." Her eyes bugged out distantly, as if her fate was suddenly clear of her own illusions.
"Oh," Artemis purred, "but it is." Gala was struck at how like a great ol' mountain cat he sounded. He pumped his hips just lightly forward, and the sheer momentum of his titanic member sent Bluebelle toppling awkwardly to the floor. She landed with an undignified "Oof!", her slender forelegs splaying out in front of her as her chest hit the ground. But her succulent ass remained thrust high up into the air, the supple, almost prehensile lip of Artemis' slit shoved firmly between her wobbling cheeks.
Bluebelle moaned. Pleasure? Fear? Simple physical strain? Gala couldn't tell; she suspected “all of the above” was most likely. Cheeks reddening, and pupils dilating, it was clear that she was rapidly moving to the point of incoherence.
Artemis only smiled more widely. "Be flattered, dear niece!" he said. “Tonight is the night you are joined to true royalty—in a way much more intimate than a self-obsessed harlot like you could have ever begun to imagine.” He raised both forelegs, keeping his body balanced by only the mass of the cock beneath him, and slammed them onto the fat girth of his pulsating shaft. Instantly, it throbbed mightily—Gala could actually hear his enormous nuts churning from where she stood, swelling larger with seed. Bluebelle moaned again, and her belly bloated visibly outward, its volume stretching as more and more liquid was pumped into it.
Now, Artemis showed more reaction than simple bemusement; his eyes narrowing almost to slits, and a contemptuous tightening of the jaw. Gala wasn't sure someone who wasn't as laconic as herself would see it, but she did. For a family-oriented mare, it was almost unthinkable, but the stories a sobbing Elusive had told...Gala was certain that Artemis knew what Bluebelle had been up to. A quick glance at Whooves showed a cold rage in the doctor's posture.
The others might have been tragedy, but Gala was possessed by a sudden peculiar sense that this wasn't a betrayal of family. It was family taking care of its own bad apple, the hard way.
"Not a drop of seed, I'm afraid." Artemis clicked his tongue sadly. "Only pre. Though I'll admit it's intensely difficult to restrain myself when such a wondrously large rear is teasing my flare so." He chuckled, and leered down at his prone, moaning niece. "It's not every day one receives a—lap dance?—from one's dearest descendant."
"B-but..." Bluebelle's voice was soft, groaning. She sounded...confused. Lost.
"But," Artemis continued, his voice growing stern: "I'm afraid you've failed after all, dear Bluebelle." He shrugged his broad shoulders, and groaned when another lurch of his megacock bloated Bluebelle's belly out with another two gallons of precum. The helpless mare looked ten months pregnant, and with twins—and the Prince himself hadn't orgasmed a drop. His smile grew wider, jagged, predatory, and his eyes narrowed once again. "And, I am afraid, that that means that you've become..."
He coughed, and brushed one hoof delicately across his ethereal mane. "...lunch."
Bluebelle's head jerked up. Her eyes bulged. "What—no?" Not even a true protest, just confusion. She sounded dumbfounded that this was even a possibility.
"Yes," Artemis said. He sounded almost cheerful, Red Gala thought. He gave his mighty cock another playful smack, and groaned when his gurgling balls rumbled ominously in response. "My dear stallionhood is hungry—and my true future wife needs a proper load of seed to fill her. Sadly," he said, sounding not even slightly so, "that mare shall not be you."
"No!" Bluebelle yelped, aware now—but too late; her back hooves were already within Prince Artemis' cockslit. The impatient obscenity had already swallowed up to the ankles when she'd been prone and helpless on the floor. She squirmed, struggled to break free—but only succeeded in lodging herself up to her knees in her uncle's magnificent rod, her hind legs locking together as it bulged and contracted, gulping her down, inch by inevitable inch.
"You—you can't do this!" Her eyes were wild, her voice desperate. "I—I am royalty! You can't swallow me down like those—those commoners!"
"I'm afraid I can," Artemis rumbled. He indolently massaged his great cock, just barely able to reach his medial ring with one lengthy foreleg. Already, the outline of Bluebelle's hind legs was barely visible as a bulge in the first few feet of his flare...and it was growing by the second, as more and more of her was sucked down by his eager member. "And my royal stallionhood seems to find you delicious."
"Nggh!" Bluebelle thrashed about, but only squealed aloud when her movement succeeded in lodging her tremendous rump, easily twice the width of her torso, inside the gaping cockslit behind her. Artemis' gigantic nuts rumbled their ravenous approval, each one tall enough to tower over a well-sized stallion by now, and his cock trembled with satisfaction. The voluminous mass of Bluebelle's plump rump bulged out the Prince's shaft as it was swallowed past the flare, followed swiftly by her slender waist and torso.
"No," Bluebelle gasped, writhing. She fell back on the same denial; it must have never failed her before. "You can't—"
"Please," Artemis groaned, "do keep wriggling. It's such a delightful sensation—and only heightens the appetite." He grinned, and gave his shaft a mischievous slap as another six inches of bobbing Bluebelle vanished into its gluttonous depths. "And I certainly can."
"I—"
"Superior," he scoffed, cutting her weakening voice off. "Royalty. Please." He shook his head and sighed. "A pity—you really thought that you'd be worth more than just a bellyfull of jizz." Licking his lips, he grinned with feral delight, and smirked out across the crowd. "But I'm sure the load you'll fuel will make some other mare very happy—and quite full and fertile, indeed."
"No," Bluebelle sobbed, her voice so weak as to resemble a whimper—and then she was gone. Just one well-decorated hoof stuck out of the mammoth cockslit now. With a lewd glorble and an obscene gulp!, it too vanished down into the great gullet of her uncle's bulging shaft. A single flex of the great pillar of meat pushed her down from its maw into its owner's waiting testes; instantly, they swelled up in size, their great, spherical shadows stretching across the floor.
Artemis groaned breathily, kneading his magnificent shaft as the bulging form of the mare within his ballsack slowly dissolved. He had no eyes for the crowd or indeed anything but his shaft now, tending to it lovingly. As he stroked himself, far behind, the clean, rounded surface of his impossibly plump balls smoothing back into place as their new captive was digested—rather noisily, with further glorps and gurgles and sloshing aplenty—into every bit as much virile spunk as the Prince himself had promised.
And then Artemis groaned, exhaled, and smiled. "Thank you for playing," he purred, and gave his shaft a final, friendly pat. With a deep grunt, and nary a glance for the crowd even now, he hauled his bulk around in the direction of his throne, his massive, cum-bloated nuts sliding across the small sea of precum that his drooling member left behind.
With another grunt, he plopped himself firmly down onto the great golden chair. As he took his leisure, both hooves held firm to the lightly-decorated arms as his once-more victorious cock bobbed lazily in the air. Its massive weight was pushed up into the air by the equally—if not more so—massive size of the Prince's alicorn-sized nuts. Artemis smiled, and offered the crowd a pleasant wave of his nuts churned with fresh seed beneath him.
"Shall we have the next competitor?" he said, pleasantly. He sounded so darn gentlecolt-like, a geniality Gala trusted about as much as a Shim-Sham sisters promise. "Which mare would like to be bred next?" Or, the unspoken addition went, like to be broken down into the cum that would impregnate the eventual winner?
His cock trembled in obvious anticipation. Artemis' lip curled cockily. Red Gala clenched her hoof.
"I reckon I'm good for it," she said, loudly. She stepped forward—and the crowd, which had been buzzing all around her, fell silent.
It was hard not to feel kinda self-conscious with all of them ponies ogling her from behind. Gala had felt awkward enough standing in the center of it all, towering over the crowd without even trying. But now, thrust out in the front, it took all of her willpower to keep from shying back from all those stares and gallop until they only things she could see were apple trees and open fields.
But she wasn't the kinda mare to give up, no ma'am. And if there was one thing Red Gala knew, it was that she'd do damn well anything for her family. She was an Apple.
And an Apple didn't run away.
So she leveled her jaw and squared her broad shoulders. Her chin jerked, somewhat awkwardly, up toward Artemis' throne, and she fixed him with a steady look. Not glaring. Not simpering. Just...looking, was all. Calm, she warned the jittery little filly in her gut. You didn't let a timberwolf know your nerves, and the smile on that navy-dark face has got just as much sharp ending...if not quite so many fangs.
And Artemis looked back. He regarded her coolly. She could feel him evaluating her, weighing her like just another prize hog.
You treat me like one of those squealin' prissies, she warned him silently, and you'll find another thing comin'.
Finally, Artemis just nodded. Indeed, there was a strange quality in his eyes that had been absent before. It wasn’t the concealed hostility towards Bluebelle, but neither was it the hungry contempt he’d given to the crowd. "Wonderful," he said. He clapped his hooves together, and smiled warmly down at her. "You look like a proper contestant."
Red Gala took that as an invitation to step forward, and did. Her big hooves, large enough to cover most stallions', plodded dutifully beneath her as she approached the throne. She wasn't going to prance or simper—wouldn't give the ornery varmint the satisfaction.
"Just look at those foalbearing hips," Artemis said. Red Gala's ears flicked up, and her cheeks reddened a bit. He wasn't jeering, but it was close enough. She felt the weight of his leering gaze on her shoulders and flexed her traps, letting the ripple down her delts and triceps push herself right on track. "A bigger mare than most. Perhaps you'll be big enough," he observed, as approached the base of his throne, "to bear more than a scant dozen of my foals."
Red Gala's cheeks burned. Her tail actually flagged a bit behind her, and she fiercely forced it back into place. Thighs as thick as heavy logs clenched beneath her—defiantly—moistening pussy. A dozen? How in the hay...
But then again, she thought, blushing even more furiously. She was an Apple, and if there was one thing an Apple wanted, it was a big family. It could be hers, royalty or no. A side benefit to wrangling this'un, if you cared to take it that way.
She stopped mere inches away from the Prince's massive flare. It loomed before her, his rapacious cockhead alone tall enough to reach her shoulders from the ground alone. Bobbing above the ground as it was, its ridged edge reached just above her nose, even as it drooled a steady river of precum down over her hooves. Wrinkling her nose, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and relaxed.
"You wish to take on the challenge, then?" Artemis' voice wasn't taunting—not quite. There was a note of interest to it, now. She felt proud; she hadn't reacted like one of those squealing hussies of his. "Think you that you can conquer the shaft of the night?"
Red Gala exhaled, and opened her eyes. Broad shoulders set, and stocky forelegs bulging with barely-contained muscle, she flicked her gaze up toward the throne before her and fixed him with a steady look. "Reckon I can," she drawled.
Artemis' grin widened. "Excellent," he said. "Well, then—this should be interesting." Lazily, he waved a hoof in the direction of his swaying endowment. "You'll make for a wonderful orgasm, at least."
The way he said it left no uncertainty in Gala's mind which end of his orgasm he intended for her to be on. But the stubborn, firm-stepping Gala just nodded curtly, turned away, and presented her broad rear toward the dripping monster behind him. Let 'im get a load of wide that comes from work, not wealth, she thought.
She could hear Artemis coo softly—in appreciation, she thought, a small smirk managing to slip onto her blunt muzzle. She gave her toned rump a little flex, and let him catch a glimpse of her great muscles shifting and rippling beneath her coat.
If he wanted a show, she reckoned, then she would damn well give him one.
She couldn't make Bluebelle's mistake, though—oh, no. Gala grit her teeth as she stepped backward. She couldn't take this like a normal stallion. This here was a beast of a cock—and she had to wrassle it like any stock gone feral.
"First step," she grunted, just loud enough for Artemis to hear—"mount your partner."
She hefted her prodigious weight to her forehooves, and thrust her firm rump up. Powerful muscles flexed in her withers and shoulders as she pushed her needy crotch up against the drooling, throbbing giant behind her. Her cheeks paled a bit as she felt the mass of it forcing her legs further apart—Goddess, but how big was this damned thing?—but she kept her will strong and her muscles taut.
At least, she reckoned, I'm already greased up for the hoggin'.
Now positioned with her well-trained and sculpted hind legs sticking up over the top of the Prince's flare, Gala frowned and bent her knees inward. She must've made a damn silly sight, she grumbled internally...but as she glanced over toward the crowd, her attention wavering for a second, she caught an oddly hopeful-looking Doctor Whooves glancing in her direction, one sharp eyebrow quirked with expectant intrigue.
"Step two," Gala grunted. Her vast shoulders flexed, and she pumped her weight back good and hard. She nearly gasped—and then fought it back down as she felt her sensitive cunny rub against Artemis' pillar of meat for the first time. She almost gave up right then and there; it'd just been so long since she'd tasted a stallion against her, and her overeager cunt wanted to fly off the edge right then and there.
But no sir, she told herself—she was going to finish this, and she was going to do it strong. "Squeeze," she grunted, "the limbs real good."
An eight-foot cock didn't really have any limbs to pin down, but in Red Gala's mind, that just made things easier. She exhaled, her great chest deflating as she squeezed the broad expanse of Artemis' flare between her powerful thighs. Years of applebucking had given them real power—and now, she felt that power welling up inside of her, a whole farm's worth of strength bursting from her muscles as she felt Artemis' supreme shaft tremble between her legs.
The Prince gasped—was that pain? Or pleasure? A vengeful part of her, remembering flailing hooves, wasn't quite sure which she thought best for him right now. His inhale of breath came almost raggedly, and she felt the great beast lurch and buck against her treetrunk thighs. But she held fast, and kept her advance moving as steady as a steam train.
Artemis grunted a moment later, as though the air was forced from him. Once she was sure that she'd secured her position, Gala chanced a look over her shoulder. The big Prince had both eyes closed, and was softly massaging the fuzzy top of his mountainous ballsack with both hooves. She could hear it gurgling from here, and quickly reminded herself of the danger of failure.
But that didn't matter, she reminded herself—'cuz Apples didn't fail.
Not when it was for family.
Groaning aloud, Red Gala steeled her iron rump, checked to make sure her drenched pussy was in full contact with the very top of Artemis' flare—and then heaved her mass downward. Powerful muscles in her cunt and rear squeezed mightily around Artemis' defiant cockhead. She heard the Prince himself gasp behind her, and took it as a sign that she was doing just fine. Groaning under her breath, Red Gala felt the top lip of her slick pussy hook over the ridge of Artemis' flare—and then begin to stretch, the whole of her velvet lips spreading further and further apart with each inch her torso moved downward.
A normal pony wouldn't have had the leverage, but the weight of Artemis' own oversized cock was proving to be his undoing. As Gala's great thighs gripped ever more tightly around its girth, she moaned softly, feeling the broad face of his member smoosh as her expanding pussy swallowed more of it. She could feel her hooves trembling, but she refused to stop. She was almost there. She was almost to the bottom of his flare. She was—
Something thick, hot, and wet brushed against her pussy, and she moaned, long and loud. Quivering with pent-up sexual tension, Red Gala caught the rippling cords of her muscles in a pulse of iron will before she released her hold completely. Halfway. She was halfway. She could do this. She was doing this.
"Gods," she heard Artemis groan behind her. "Wh-what in Equestria are you doing, little mare?"
Despite herself, Gala couldn't help but grin. "Wrasslin' a critter that got too big for its britches," she panted, a mad, giggling part of her mind silently adding, “or any britches,” but that was okay. Peals of sweat rolled down her forehead, but she dared not wipe them. "Step three: Pump your hips to lock 'em down to the floor."
She took a deep breath—and then slammed her hips downward. Her potent thighs provided the leverage, long legs wrapped around a full half of Artemis' girth, and her straining muscles fueling the pistoning of her pussy downward. She felt it enter her, and gasped aloud. F-f-fuck! Oh, sugar!
"R-ready to give up?" Artemis' voice was surprisingly shaky. "I-I'm sure my testes would adore a well-muscled mare like you."
"Nope," Gala grunted. Oh, but it hurt!. He was so big—bigger than anything she'd ever imagined. If she'd glanced back, she had no doubt that the lips of her cunt would have stretched out grotesquely above and below her, her pussy straining as it struggled to keep every inch of that prime stallion meat inside. Beneath her, her two tits swelled and knocked nervously together, her flexing, bulging thighs squishing them together as, bit by bit, the Prince's godlike cock was pistoned inside of her. Gala kept panting, kept sweating—but kept pushing, until she felt her womb beginning to squish beneath the mass of the oncoming member.
And then, an inferno of will swelling up within her, she slammed her husky hips down—and gasped, choking on her own breath, as she felt him enter her entirely.
The crowd gasped with her. Behind her, Artemis groaned, long and low and rumbling. Gala just moaned, a hoof moving gingerly to her belly as she felt her torso distending with the sheer size of the shaft she'd just taken inside of her.
But she could feel it—that great, round radius throbbing, pulsing, trembling within her. It was as tense as she was, quivering with a monstrous, godly need for release. It almost felt alive; the steady pulse of life through its engorged frame threatened to drown out her own heartbeat, each lurch of the engorged cock inside threatening to buck her like an overactive bronco.
But she held firm. Every inch of her overstuffed pussy hung on tight, proudly clamping down on its victim—and Prince Artemis' magnificent cock twitched, throbbed, and then shuddered before falling still inside of her.
Trembling, Red Gala reached up to brush her sweat-matted mane out of her eyes. Her hard-taxed chest was heaving, and her knees were shaking. Her womb! Her womb was incredibly stretched, and her entire stomach had been pushed rudely aside to make room for the gigantic intruder. But she'd done it.
She'd won.
"O-o-ooh, yes." Prince Artemis hissed his last word with all the subtlety of a snake, his rumbling tones shifting and squirming with undeniable pressure. He took in a deep breath; Red Gala groaned, feeling his massive cock swell with the broad inflation of the Prince’s chest. When Artemis exhaled, so too did his shaft, a glob of precum large enough to leave a mare looking pregnant splurting from his tip inside of her.
"Congratulations, little mare," Artemis grunted. Gala pulled her hoof around her distended middle again and chanced a look backward; her own titanic thighs were still quivering, muscles taut and primed, as they withheld the awesome force of the godlike cock inside of her. Artemis was smiling, a tinge of simple awe coloring his face. "Or perhaps not so little, my dear broodmare."
"M'name," Gala grunted out, "is Gala. Red Gala."
Artemis' eyebrow quirked up. "Of course," he said, and his smooth, rolling tones took on the sound of…anticipation. "How rude of me. It would be terribly unbecoming to address future royalty with anything less than her new title."
Gala stared. Then it hit her:
Future royalty.
Artemis' smile only widened. "I must say," he rumbled. "It's been far too long since I've had a proper princess in my bed." He chuckled, his entire body shuddering with a lustful groan. Her ears twitched, and she heard the great oceans of heady cum in his nuts sloshing, churning, gurgling with pressure. Artemis' cheeks grew flushed with color, and he beamed down at the trembling, cock-stuffed mare beneath him.
"May all of Canterlot know this!" he thundered. His voice echoed from the walls, causing the pillars to shake and the floor to tremble. Red Gala shivered as she felt the tenor of it reverberate through her very bones. Artemis spared her only an aristocratic grin before continuing: "I am most honored to introduce you to the newest member of the royal family: Princess Red Gala!"
Princess...Red Gala. Gala's cheeks flushed and her broad shoulders rolled anxiously. Her heart fluttered, and she felt her muzzle widening in a huge, disbelieving smile. Then Artemis' cock twitched inside of her, and she moaned, pride mixing with pleasure and awe as her entire womb, wrapped around the potent shaft of the alpha behind her like a condom, trembled and drooled with lust.
Toothily, Artemis glanced back down at her and grinned. "Congratulations," he said again, "Princess." After a second, he smiled lightly. "My princess, I should say."
Uncertain of what to say—oh, stars, everyone was starin' at her—Red Gala just bowed her head and nodded, just barely able to keep herself from shaking. Admittedly, the great rod of flesh spearing her core and making a mockery of any earlier complaints might've helped.
"You've undertaken a task of Hayculean proportions," Artemis rumbled down to her. "And succeeded at the first step, where so many have failed."
First...step?
Gala's eyes widened. She could already see him pulling his hips back—but from the way those great, powerful thighs of his were clenching, he wasn't about to yank himself free. She'd made similar motions herself, done roundabout, after all.
"You should be honored," Artemis chuckled. "For you shall bear the glory of the first Lunar brood in one thousand years." His teeth glinted in the golden Gala light. "If your belly can hold them, of course."
And then he rammed himself forward, all eight-plus feet of him.
Gala very nearly choked on her own spit; a few seconds of lightening pressure around her labia had been replaced by a burning, spearing pain as Artemis impaled an entire foot of his massive tool inside of her. She'd taken only half that the first time—and that alone had driven her mad with fullness and pressure—but it was clear that he had no intention of stopping until he was balls-deep in her aching, dripping pussy.
For she was aching—aching with a needy, aroused soreness such that she'd never known before. And it wasn't just in her poor little cunny; no, it was a full-body experience, every inch of her suddenly yearning for the heat and weight of this massive, alpha organ. A stud had claimed a mare of the herd, and her primal instincts all but screamed for her to beg for his dominance.
But Red Gala's knees didn't bend that easy. And this mare had claimed that stud, first, anywise. So she squinted and hacked past a cough, splitting her pain in two like a block of timber, and stubbornly refused to let go.
"If you can take me," Artemis murmured, "I can already tell that you'd make a wonderful broodmare." She groaned aloud, shame at their public display of obscenity fading as her pleading pussy contracted and spasmed around the megacock inside of her.
Aw, shucks. She'd just gone and came, hadn't she? Without even a single real darned thrust.
Either she was getting trigger-happy, or Artemis was lazier than she thought. The former, she decided, biting her cheek as another orgasm rocked her world around her, heat flaring up in her clenching pussy with the blaze of a screaming fireball. She'd been stretched wide enough to hold a grown, curled-up mare in her cunt, and still, the steady throb of Prince Artemis' tool seemed determined to drive her to a cum-fueled insanity.
Not today, she vowed—and then swallowed a cry of pure, absolute, helpless pleasure. Not today.
"So do you think you can?" Artemis said. His voice wasn't loud, but he sounded more than interested. The lilt to his voice sounded...teasing. Taunting, but not insulting. Not like with his prior contestants; his meals, them. He wanted to prod her, push her. Well, Gala admitted with a grimace, he was certainly prodding one part of her—her whole backside and lower torso, if she were being honest. But to the big, randy colt behind her, it seemed like he wanted more.
So she drew in a ragged breath, and nodded firmly. "Eeyup," she grunted, gaze locked down onto the ground. "Reckon I can."
"I've heard that challenge before," Artemis said. She could feel his eyes on her back, his cautious, yet teasing glint of mischief. "Show me, farm-mare." Surprisingly, it sounded like more of a cheer than an order.
Gala chuckled. "S'Princess now, cock-colt," she growled. Trembling, she shoved all hesitation down into the depths of her belly—where, coincidentally, the massive face of Artemis' fat cock was rubbing against the walls of her internal organs. Gala took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes shut, and heaved.
"My—my mistake." Artemis found himself interrupted by a soft groan of pleasure. As Gala's hooves moved to her thighs, her lower body supported by the great shaft dribbling precum inside of her, she squeezed her giant's legs even tighter and impaled herself on another three inches of Princely cock. "My—apologies," he choked out, as a full eighteen inches of his length rounded out the bulge in Gala's stomach.
Only seventy-eight inches to go.
Gala only moaned. But she didn't stop—no, sir. The mound in her belly may have resembled a four-time pregnancy, what with the sloshing gallons of precum adding to the obscene bulge of the cock inside her, but she was determined to see this through—all the way through, if need be. She grunted, groaning as she forced inch after inch of cock into her impossibly stretched cunt, her hot, thin walls quivering with lust and a near-constant state of orgasm as she impaled her entire body atop his member.
Behind her, Artemis groaned—and she groaned with him, both hooves pushing down to hug at the now two-foot bulge in her gut. Artemis growled with unmistakable satisfaction, and as she moved to pull another few inches of his meat inside of her, she felt a tingling of strange energy around her hindquarters.
Glancing back, she saw her sculpted flanks glowing with deep blue energy. Her gaze flicked up; Artemis was grinning down at her sheepishly, and when he saw her looking, he winked. "You've succeeded thus far," he said. "It wouldn't be fair for you to do all the work here."
Gala nodded, her jaw trembling as more and more of her internal organs were pushed aside to make room for the Prince's mega-cock. She could scarcely think for all of the pressure and weight inside of her—each throb of his member seemed to make every muscle in her body flex and clench like the ringing of a steeple bell. All the same, for all that AJ might've considered magic "cheating," she was all too grateful for the warm embrace of the energies tickling her thighs as the tall Prince's magic slipped her further down over his enormous length. A half punch-drunk part of her figured a princess might need to get used a little magic in her life—in her, on her...
Slowly, she felt herself rising into the air; by now, there was likely more cock than Gala inside of her skin. Red Gala only moaned weakly as she felt her hooves lose contact with the ground; behind her—below her, soon—Artemis let out a rolling groan of approval, his titanic nuts pulsing as a full four feet of his shaft bulged from her belly.
Four feet. She was just barely halfway done. Gala moaned, and hugged the great bulge in her gut—and found that she couldn't reach even two-thirds around. For all her strength and size, Artemis' organ was simply too broad, too massive for her to mount fully. And perhaps, she thought, squirming as her impaler throbbed dully, that was what she'd been longing for for years.
She must've made a darn pretty picture, one clear corner of Gala's mind decided, danglin' up on that great big cock like a hog on the end of a spit. Her legs, massive and bulging with muscle as they were, squirmed and flapped helplessly in the air as an organ ever-more impressive slowly pushed her to greater ascent. Rivulets of her own orgasms streamed down the sides of Artemis' shaft, the constant flood of pleasure leaving her head filled with haze and murky, pleasant lust. Not a single drop of precum joined her sweet nectar, though—from the steady bloating of her own spherical belly—now near as big as a whole barrel of cider—it was clear just where that liquid lust was going.
With a grunt as loud as a rolling peal of thunder, Artemis gave up on half measures. His magic embraced every inch of her—and then slammed her downward. Gala squealed—for the first, and only time of her life—as most of her body's mass was instantly displaced by more than one hundred pounds of cockflesh. Her vision fogged, and she came again, groaning blearily as a pony's mass in stallion meat throbbed and pulsed within her.
Two big legs, bulging with definition, curled lovingly around her waist. They stroked up toward her barrel, gently pressing her coat down against the fat pillar of lust that had shoved her every internal aside, so rudely taking her body for its own. She moaned, unsure of whether it was a groan of pleasure or a gurgle of helplessness.
"Mmff," Artemis grunted. He knickered in obvious satisfaction, and gave the sides of Gala's titanic belly a good squeeze. She could feel his chest pressing against her shoulder blades, his hot breath on her neck as he pulled her in toward him completely—save for the six-plus feet of cockflesh bulging out the center of her stomach. His lips wrapped tenderly around her ear and began to suck. As she squirmed, twisting in his grip, he chuckled, and murmured, "I love being inside you, Gala, dear."
"Y'all sound surprised," she grunted back. She panted, sweat beading on her forehead. Oh, gods, but it felt good. How could this feel good—having so much cock stuffed inside you that you barely felt you could breathe? But the walls of her blossoming cunt were sore, and dry, and glowing with happiness over cumming so many darned times. Part of her wanted it to stop, but the rest of her wanted to know how far it could go. Her muscular thighs flexed around his, their powerful legs intertwining. He let out a "nggh" of approval, and she felt a grin slip onto her face. "Didn't think I could take ya?"
"Never," Artemis said, loftily. He continued to fondle her far-stretched thighs and overstretched crotch, even as he pumped his hips gently forward and back. His slow, almost tender thrusts bulged her overstretched belly with all of the grace of a water balloon. He was using her like a condom, Gala realized groggily—all her stomach stretched out around him like a rubber. Just a place to store his dribbling lust.
Another gallon of that seemingly precum splurted out against the inside of her womb. She whinnied, her core clenching in eager response. Not that she was against storing any of that, thank you very much; not while he seemed to be right interested in filling her deficiencies in the lust department. No ma'am.
Artemis' strong hooves pushed down over her sculpted quads, and hugged them as best he could. "Such a good cocksleeve you are," he cooed.
Gala's grin thinned. Best to start as she meant to go on. "Ain't no cocksleeve."
"Aren't you?" Artemis asked. He wasn't taunting; he was...exploring. Testing her mental limits as he did her physical. His magnificent member slid in and out of her like a piston in a factory, every throb of his hot flesh making her cum all over again. "Are we not here to fill you full of foals?"
"My foals," Red Gala told him. "Mine." Apples had no greed for other folks' land and other folks' crops, but she’d be damned and withered if they gave up any part of the family trees. She moved her hooves up to her belly and cradled the bulge there. A soft moan escaped her lips, and she felt Artemis' great organ shifting and twitching inside of her, as rivulets of precum the volume of rivers flowed down the sides of his all-invading shaft. She could feel them—currents of arousal, tides of lust, all pooling in her womb as it expanded by the minute.
Artemis only chuckled. "Our foals," he conceded. He paused—and then gave just the slightest twitch of his mighty hips. Gala very nearly choked with the pleasure of it, her mind spasming with the dual pleasures of the flesh and of the soul. Foals—
An Apple pony needed foals like a fish needed water. And she was about to get a lot of 'em. She could live with the “our.” She'd introduce him to the fact that he was just going to have to learn to be an Apple then. Later though. Much later.
She felt her questing hooves roaming across the acres of her stretched, taut hide, feeling the gentle ripples of flesh as the great veins and ring of Artemis' deep-thrust cock shifted inside of her. Her legs tightened, and she found she could not even begin to close them—for she had conquered the beast, but had invited it to conquer her in return.
Sounded like somethin' Blitz would think up, she thought, chuckling to herself. Blitz, or—
"Gala!"
She blinked, stirred in her place. Speared as she was on Artemis' throbbing rod, she could do scant more than hug the cock-hill in her belly, using her sloshing, precum-gut for leverage as she squinted down at the wide pair of eyes staring up at her from the ballroom floor. They were...familiar eyes.
And she knew that purple coat didn't belong to no stranger.
"Red Gala!" Dusk Shine breathed. He inhaled sharply—and then beamed up at her, his muzzle grinning from ear to ear. "I heard ponies talking about Artemis' challenge, and I heard some descriptions that may have matched yours, but of course I didn't think it was you, except until I came over here and you—"
He took another deep breath, and blushed. Grinning goofily, he finished, "Well. Looks like you did win. So, uh, congratulations!"
Gala took a break from moaning incoherently to push a wobbly grin onto her own cheeks. "Well—shucks," she grunted out. Artemis' demanding dick throbbed temptingly inside of her, and she tried to push its siren song away. "Thank you...kindly, Dusk."
"Oh, sure." Dusk grinned up at her and winked. "I don't want to take up too much of your time, though"—he reached up and rapped a hoof on the great bulge in her belly—"'cuz it looks like you're having a fairly full night."
Behind her, Artemis snorted. "I've held executions for jokes half that bad," he murmured into Gala's ear. Gala did her best to keep a straight face.
"But..." Dusk's expression became vaguely conspiratorial. He stepped in closer and grinned sheepishly up at her. His voice lowered, becoming deeper, quieter. "I just know what it's like to take all of an alicorn, y'know? So, uh—don't feel like you're the first person to go through this." He winked again. "I know it can be a little hard."
"Ah—there you are, Dusk! And with our newest Princess, too!"
Gala and Dusk alike startled at the new voice. It was deep, like Artemis', but where Artemis was like smooth silk, this one was rich, shining steel, rumbling with a bass timbre that only the deepest drums could reach. Gala's eyes widened—and she instantly recognized the newcomer.
How could she not? Prince Solaris, once-monarch and now-diarch of Equestria, had been on her tongue since the day Red Gala had first learned of the world beyond the fences of the orchard.
The great stallion smiled kindly down on her. Even taller than Prince Artemis, the stallion's massive form surpassed seven feet—outside of the Palace, she'd heard stories of him stooping to fit through pony-sized doorways. His shoulders were broader still than his brother's, and his chest massive enough that she found it suddenly all too easy to believe the tales of his Hayculean feats in battle.
And his legs. By the Goddess, but he gave her more than a run for her bits—the sheer size of them made it look like she'd be crawling.
Prince Solaris smiled toward her, tall enough to look down on her even when she was speared atop the great crane of his little brother's unlittle cock. "The mare of the hour," he rumbled, his deep voice rich and warm and masculine in a way that even Artemis' didn't even begin to approach. "I do wonder what my dear student was discussing with you."
Dusk jumped. "Oh!" he said. He blushed, and shrank back a bit. "Just reminiscing." He chuckled awkwardly. "Just, uh, remembering the first time I was in her position."
"Not used to taking a stallionhood larger than yourself, hrm?" Prince Solaris' chuckle, Gala decided, sounded more tongue-in-cheek than actually mocking. He gave her a light tap on the belly-bulge, much like Dusk had, and regarded her warmly. "If I remember correctly, Dusk, you squealed much louder than this wonderful mare."
Dusk's blush only deepened. At Solaris' gentle nod, though, the smaller stallion trotted over to the larger alicorn and nuzzled lovingly at his side. Solaris smiled down at him, and for a moment, Gala forgot that she was currently being massively deformed by a phallus only slightly longer than her mattress.
She snorted to herself, nostrils flaring. What a night this was becoming. As if in response, Artemis took the silence as an opening to bite down playfully on her neck. She gasped—and then wrapped both bulging thighs around his legs and pulled him in harder.
Solaris pulled away from his smaller lover, and took another step toward her. Regarding her coolly for a moment, he let Gala's steady pants decrescendo before speaking again.
"I really do wish to congratulate you," he told her. His muzzle flicked up into a smile, and something glimmered in his big, golden eyes. Behind her, Artemis grunted lustfully, and pumped his hips yet again. "But I must also inform you of something you have no doubt uncovered already."
Gala swallowed a moan, even as Artemis' incredibly skillful hooves massaged her toned rump. "...Eeyup?" she grunted, her voice strained.
Solaris smiled innocently. "Well," he said, "an alicorn has certain needs and hungers—and a male alicorn doubly so." He gave her a wink, and his voice lowered to a husky whisper. "And it has been an entire millennium since my little brother has cum properly. I am glad to find that he has found a willing mare with which to spill his seed."
His eyebrows waggled suggestively. "All of his seed," Prince Solaris said lewdly, before nodding toward her. "My congratulations—and encouragement— again."
He held out a hoof toward her. Knowing the traditional royal gesture, Gala took it warily—but instead of kissing hers, Solaris instead planted his broad lips on her belly, with not even an inch of her hide separating his smiling muzzle from the shifting, pulsing, throbbing mass of his brother's length inside of her. Gala heard Artemis laughing softly, and grunted. Grinning, Solaris winked mischievously—and then spun away, Dusk falling into place beside him in a heartbeat.
It was barely another heartbeat before Gala heard Artemis' voice again in her ear: deep, dark, and husky.
"Tell me," the big alicorn purred. "Did you enjoy meeting my brother? I think it's long past time you met me."
Something about the tone of his voice put a whole new kind of shiver down Gala's spine. "Thought I already knew ya," she mumbled.
"Oh—to start." Artemis chuckled softly. "But I've been waiting all night to let loose." He exhaled, his broad chest pushing against her lateral muscles as he rolled his shoulders in obvious delight. "Are you ready, farm-filly?"
There was only one thing to say to that.
"I'd bet that not one of you Canterlot colts can get as wild as a proper Apple buck," Red Gala drawled. Her eyes narrowed. "So do your worst."
Artemis' laugh was like shimmering, moonlit shadows. "I accept your challenge," he said.
His hooves had been sliding down gently along her thighs, but now, as the last syllable faded from his throat, they darted forward with the force of a rattler. Gala's breath hitched in her throat as Artemis seized her swollen, sensitive crotchtits in his powerful hooves, and she hissed, big shoulders shuddering with barely constrained pleasure, as his husky voice growled in her ear.
"You're mine," Prince Artemis snarled. He began kneading her breasts more fiercely, his strong thighs pressing against her sculpted rear. "And I—am yours."
And the rutting began in earnest.
The room around them lost itself in a blur—Gala could scarcely tell where the walls ended and the other ponies began. Dozens, or even hundreds of sets of eyes watched her, stared at her, as she was rutted—used—filled beyond even the kindest definitions of obscenity. And Prince Artemis, it seemed, was all too delighted to let that generous obscenity show.
His rough hips slammed forward again and again, powerful muscles rippling and flexing against her own as the smacks and slaps of beefy, musclebound flesh dominated the air of the room. Gala's head flew back as the bulge in her belly—the bulge that was her belly—see-sawed up and down before her very eyes, Prince Artemis' titanic tool lurching and twisting her very body in every way it pleased. She moaned, low and throaty, as a fresh burst of precum set her gut bloating out further as Artemis' liquid lust pushed the volume of her womb out far enough to hold an entire grown stallion inside its well-used walls.
The precum! Oh, so much precum. Gala moaned as she came, again and again, femcum streaming down the sides of Artemis' superb shaft as he fucked her full to bursting. And he hadn't even cum yet—not a twitch of climax, not a whinny of release. His snorts, his snarls of pure, unrestrained release, only mounted in her ears like the shrill cry of a steam train as he pounded her into submission.
One thousand years of stored seed, his brother had called it. One thousand years literally high and dry and never released—until now. Each thrust of his slamming hips sent her rump bouncing off of the Prince's enormous balls, his gigantic nutsack large enough to make her feel small. Their oceanic contents churned behind her; she cried out, her vision going white for a moment as his musk drowned her lungs, his feral voice growling up toward her.
"A dozen mares have filled mine sack tonight," Artemis growled. He nipped at her neck, and plunged his length inside of her again. Gala moaned, feeling her stomach stretch around his conquering cock like a god's condom once more. As her hooves struck against the taut surface of his bloated, thousand-gallon cumsacks, she imagined that she could feel their former victims sloshing inside—and realized that she would soon feel them groaning, gurgling, and sloshing inside of her own belly and womb.
He laughed at her whinny of recognition, and curled his neck around her own. "Mm," Artemis rumbled. "Sweet mare. Do you enjoy being watched while you're bred?"
Gala struggled to let her vision resolve. She caught the eye of an onlooking stallion, and glared until his gaze snapped away—and down to the drooling, throbbing erection between his own legs. Beside him, a mare was already panting, tears falling down her cheeks as she buried her hoof in her own ripe cunny. Not a colt or filly in that audience wasn't watching them—but as she kept looking, she found Dusk Shine's beaming face, and felt defiance bubble up in her heart.
"Do y'all like being seen to lose?" she growled.
Artemis only laughed. "I deserved that," he murmured. He wrapped both legs around her cock-belly and did his best to hug, almost protectively, what little amount of her hide he could reach. He grunted against her ear, his tongue curling out to lap at her neck's fur as his huge heft twitched inside of her. She grunted in return, both of her well-built thighs working his shaft as her ass grinded against his belly.
"You're a strong mare, Red Gala," he said. His grip tightened on her thighs, and he pumped his hips forward again. "Tall. Muscular. And powerful."
She nearly choked as she felt another half-gallon of precum stretch her womb even further. "Y'all—ain't so bad yourself."
"Flattering words," Artemis said. He grunted; she heard him suck in a breath, felt his gritted teeth pressed tightly against her neck. "And yet my release draws ever closer."
"I want all of it," Gala said. "Y'hear?" She scarcely recognized the words coming out of her mouth, but she'd be darned if they weren't true. "Every last lil' drop."
"So eager," Artemis growled, "to bear my foals?"
Gala let her eyes fall shut. Then they shot open, a cocky smirk on her face.
"An Apple family that don't break down the barn," she grunted, squirming atop Artemis' cock as she struggled to work even more of it inside herself, "ain't a family worth havin'."
Artemis released a pained gasp of pleasure as her thighs bounced off of his titanic, churning balls. Gala chuckled. Then:
"Make me bigger than the barn, sugarcube," she growled.
"Your wish," Artemis grunted, "is my command."
And he came.
It was more than a flood—it was a monsoon, a torrent, a tsunami of ridiculous proportions that bloated out her womb and belly to twice their current size in half a second. Red Gala's eyes flew open wide, her pupils narrowing to pinpricks, her hooves scrambling up to a stomach that was suddenly wider than she was tall—
Artemis' howl of final and furious release filled her ears, a long, pure cry of climax that ached with simple, primal pleasure. His thrusts went wild, each slam of his pistoning hips making her sculpted core flex and clench as her hard angles were rounded out with gallon after gallon after gallon of pure, virile baby batter.
Gala's head flew back further still, her hooves wriggling helplessly as Artemis released his great load inside of her. She could feel his seed filling her, infusing with her. She moaned, whinnied with climax after climax as she felt the sloshing, creamy-white mass of Artemis' former contestants rush in to fill her up. Her belly rounded out as if pregnant with two-dozen foals—and then blew up even larger, rocketing past any reasonable size in the blink of an eye.
She could almost feel the foals growing inside of her already—growing bigger, stronger, and healthier, as only the offspring of an Apple could be—an Apple, that was, and an alicorn.
For a moment, a pang of sadness struck her, and Gala wondered if the cum-forms of the mares Artemis' cock had digested would be reborn as her foals. And then, with a grunt and a roaring blast of spooge, all rational thought was washed from her mind as the Prince's royal release began anew.
By the time he was finally finished her, she'd been lifted above him—lifted far above the floor. Red Gala moaned weakly, useless limbs flapping helplessly against a belly that kept her towering above the rest of the Gala. Behind her, she felt Artemis begin to pull out of her obscenely inflated cunt, and moaned again as a waterfall of hot jizz cascaded onto the floor. Her hind legs wriggled against her house-sized cum-gut, and she heard Prince Artemis groan with absolute, heated pleasure.
"By the gods," he moaned. "Red Gala."
She heard, rather than saw, his great shaft flop down between his legs as he unhilted himself fully from her royally-used marehood. More cum spilled out after him—and Gala gasped, cheeks flushing, as the simple removal of his wide-ridged flare from her cunny caused her to orgasm one last time, a final period on a night of unknowable release.
Slowly, the heavy hoofsteps of Artemis' hulking form echoed through the silent ballroom. Gala, unable to move under her own power, simply gazed down at the other attendees coolly. She should have felt helpless, but instead she just felt big—powerful, looking down at them from her cum-grown pillow. Not a one of her hooves reached even halfway to the ground, but as she felt the gurgling of oceans of jizz inside her womb, heard the squelch of Artemis' hefty sack against the fluid-stained floor below, she couldn't help but groan in fulfillment.
She was resting on a throne of herself. Herself, and the efforts of what might just be an acceptable stud for an Apple mare, after all.
Behind her, she felt small forms hitting her belly, and rebounding off of it. With a start, she realized that they were ponies—mares, probably, crowding into a feeding frenzy around the steady cascade of cum from her gaping pussy. She could see them—hear them, almost—whimpering, cramming their mouths full of Artemis' heady spunk, patting their rounded cum-guts and groaning as they imagined him filling them as he had her.
Except he hadn't taken her. She'd taken him—and that, the humble earth pony decided, with a small, barely-humble smirk, was why her belly alone was thrice their entire heights.
Artemis was in front of her now, looking up at her with an expression of awe, lust, and simple adoration. Using a flicker of magic, he rolled her forward—she was very nearly spherical now—and raised an eyebrow inquisitively. He was so close now; she could see the promise, the hesitation in his eyes.
His lips puckered, ever so slightly—and paused.
It was the darn silliest thing she'd seen all evening. He'd just fucked her silly, and now wasn't going to even kiss her?
Red Gala was an Apple. And Apple fillies knew just what to do there.
Without even waiting for him to try, she reached out with her stubby limbs and—just barely—grabbed him about the muzzle. She yanked him toward her, and met his lips with her own as he grunted in surprise. Her muscles tensed up as his tongue prodded against her own—and then relaxed, and she let herself melt into the kiss, even as the big alicorn below her did the same.
Around them, the crowd broke out into cheers. The party resounded with whoops and hollers, with jeers and applause alike. Red Gala pulled away from Artemis' muzzle gasping, her hooves very nearly trembling with tension and excitement. She was a big, clumsy oaf of a country mare. What was she doing?
And then she saw saw him—Applejack, his eyes wide and shining, his cheeks dimpled, his face beaming at her like he was seeing her for the first time. Tears were beading at the corners of his eyes, and they were beading in her eyes, too, Red Gala discovered, blinking away moisture as the crowd's thunderous approval raged in her ears.
A light weight pushed onto her head—glancing up, Gala saw a thin silver circlet, a crown being levitated over her unkempt mane. The crowd cheered again, and she saw Artemis smile up at her.
Red Gala wasn't sure whether to smile or wave, so she just grinned, cheeks redder than the ripest apple, Artemis moved to nuzzle against her side. The steady rocking of his stone-hard body let her belly slosh and churn with its seed—rocking her new foals to sleep, she thought, as the growing nursery inside of her became the newest attraction of the Grand Galloping Gala.
In the end, she decided, chuckling silently, she'd come into the palace not really sure of what the whole attraction was. And in the end, she decided, it looked like she'd turned out to be that attraction.
And maybe, she decided—just maybe—that was just plain alright.
