Soarin grunted as he thrust his hips, burying his thick, hard cock deep into his loving wife’s dripping cunt. Spitfire had her legs wrapped around Soarin’s middle, not allowing Soarin escape. Not that he wanted to. Soarin cherished every moment he was with Spitfire, their busy schedules rarely overlapping in such a way that allowed them any sort of quality time together. One such schedule overlap was now, when the two had the whole weekend to themselves. Their activities for the weekend were what one would expect from a busy couple who rarely had time to see each other outside of work.
“Fuck, babe, harder,” moaned Spitfire, nearly purring when her husband obliged her. “F-fuck, are you gonna…?”
“Yeah, I’m close,” breathed Soarin, a bit disappointed. Spitfire knew his body quite well by now, so she knew when he was going to cum almost before he did. There was no sneaking past her. Spitfire un-scissored her legs from around Soarin and slowly eased him out. Soarin sighed, working his hand up and down his cock; At eleven and a half inches of stallion meat, Soarin was decidedly above average, but he knew of earth ponies bigger than him. He stroked and stroked, letting out a groan as erupted all over his wife’s toned yellow belly. Spitfire sighed in contentment, whereas Soarin couldn’t help but be a little disappointed.
Not to say that he didn’t enjoy fucking his wife. In his experience, there was no such thing as a bad orgasm. Still, Spitfire had certain rules, the most absolute of which being “thou shalt pull out”. Soarin used to love the image of his lovely wife, dishevelled, out of breath, and with a hot, sticky load of cum on her tummy.
But, now… Now, Soarin and Spitfire were getting older. Thirty-three and thirty-four, respectively. As far as Soarin was considered, this was the perfect time to to put a bun in the oven. Spitfire was insistent that she didn’t want children, but Soarin was at odds with that fact. He wanted to be a father, needed to be one, and, if there was ever a time for him to get Spitfire pregnant, now was that time.
It didn’t hurt that Soarin had a bit of a fetish for pregnant women. Something about those big, round stomachs, the glow of a mare carrying a foal, that just set his engines revving. In Soarin’s eyes, it was the most beautiful a woman could be. It broke his heart how Spitfire rejected it. He wished that he could somehow show her the light.
“G-good hustle, chief,” panted Spitfire. Her wings twitched in the throes of her post-orgasmic bliss. “Fuck, that was good…”
“I aim to please,” said Soarin with a grin. “You up for a talk?”
“I was gonna hop in the shower, but it can wait,” said Spitfire. She propped herself up on her elbows. “Can’t wait very long, cause dried cum sucks to wash out of fur, but… What's on your mind, Soarin?”
“Okay, I know you said you don't want to,” sighed Soarin. “But I really think we should talk about a baby.” Spitfire let out a groan, which was more or less the reaction that Soarin expected. “I know, I know, but I think we should really talk about it.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I still have my whole career ahead of me.” Spitfire shimmed across the bed to their nightstand and grabbed a towel, which she used to wipe up with. “I have the Wonderbolts to worry about, I don’t need a kid on top of that. Maybe one day in the future, but not now.”
“But I really think we’re missing a golden window here. I don’t want to be too old to live through life with our baby. How long do you want to wait?”
“As long as it takes for me to be ready, and the fact of the matter is that I’m not. I’m sorry, but I just can’t do it right now.” Spitfire could see the disappointment on Soarin’s face, and she rose from the bed to gently grab him by the hand. “I’m not saying no. I’m just saying not for a while. In a few years… Maybe we can talk about it.”
Soarin sighed. That was better than these talks normally went, but he was far from satisfied.
“Alright, babe. Alright,” he said. Spitfire smirked, then firmly slapped Soarin on the ass.
“Good. Now hit the shower, Private. I’ll be joining you in a minute.”
“I’ve never heard someone bitch about something so dumb.”
Soarin looked up from his drink to give Thunderlane the middle finger. Soarin wasn’t quite sure what he expected. He had just told his friend about something emotional and personal to him, confided in him something powerful and important. The only problem was, Thunderlane and Soarin weren’t just friends. They were best friends. Bros, even. And that meant that the only appropriate response when hearing their friend share such a heavy, serious story was, in Thunderlane’s mind, to be a dick about it.
It was the next day, and Spitfire realized that she had forgotten to go shopping the past week. Soarin had insisted that he accompany her, but she shot him down. She said that he shouldn’t have to suffer and lose out on his free weekend just because she made a mistake. She ordered him to go hang out with Thunderlane, and an order from Spitfire was not something you just ignored. So, Soarin had no choice but to invite his friend over and crack open a few cold ones.
“You know, every time I invite you over, I try to remember why it’s been so long since we’ve hung out,” sighed Soarin. “Now I remember. It’s cause you’re a dick.”
“I’m just saying, man, you’re really bitching about having to pull out?” asked Thunderlane. He kicked his feet up on Soarin’s coffee table. “Listen to yourself! You managed to bag Spitfire, who’s at least the third most fuckable pegasus in the country. Every day, you come home to that toned ass and tight pussy just waiting for you. I bet you don’t even remember what it feels like to jerk off. Meanwhile, I have to put in my request for a handjob with an advance of three to five business days. Count your blessings, and cherish that tight piece of ass you tricked into marriage.”
“Few things. One, I jerk off plenty, so spare me that bullshit.” Soarin rolled his eyes. How had he ended up befriending such an asshole in the first place? “Two, that’s my wife you’re talking about, so maybe stop salivating over her ass. And, most importantly, three, who could possibly be a more fuckable than Spitty?”
“My girl Dustie and your’s truly.” Thunderlane winked, which had a dual effect of annoying Soarin and getting a small chuckle out of him. “Look, I’m saying this not as your friend, not as your fellow Bolt. I’m saying this as your bro. You. Do not. Want. A fucking baby. It’ll ruin your life. Trust me, just keep pulling out. Spitfire is still fucking you, right? Put that load somewhere else, bud.”
“Okay, I’ll ask the obvious question,” said Soarin, tossing his empty beer can into the trash. “You’ve never had a kid, so how the hell do you know?”
“Never had a kid, but that doesn’t mean I’ve never gotten a girl pregnant. Lemme tell you, it was the best thousand bucks I ever spent.”
“You’re a real piece of shit, you know that, right?”
“Oh, but that’s part of my charm!” Thunderlane grinned, then swiped up another beer. “Alright, I’m guessing you're sold on this baby idea. You ever try… I dunno, just… Not pulling out?”
Soarin stared at Thunderlane as if he had just sprouted a second head.
“Are you fucking retarded?” he asked, genuinely, 100% serious.
“I’m serious. You don’t use rubbers and she doesn’t fuck around with the pull-out thing, so I’m guessing she’s not on the pill or any contraceptive spells,” said Thunderlane thoughtfully. “So the only thing stopping you from putting a baby in your lady, besides your wiser best friend, is your own self-restraint. So, if you want to knock her up so bad, just do it.”
“You want me to cum inside Spitfire even when she tells me not to?” asked Soarin rhetorically. “It’s like… It’s like you’ve never even met her before. If I get two pumps in after she tells me to pull out, she’ll break both my arms and use my snapped femurs to finish herself off.”
“True, I forgot how fucking nuts your lady is. Hm… Spitfire has that insurance spell, right?” asked Thunderlane.
Soarin nodded slowly, not entirely sure what one things had to do with another. The spell that Thunderlane was referring to was a rather new spell that Princess Twilight had invented to better protect her kingdom. While explaining the effects, she described the spell as “cartoonifying” Equestria, a term coined and pushed by Pinkie Pie. The spell played with the physics of the world a bit, putting magical cushions and momentum dampening charms on pretty much anything. Furthermore, she could alter the physiology of willing participants to make their bodies more elastic, and give them regenerative abilities. Spitfire and Soarin both had the charms placed on themselves to avoid any damage if there was ever any accidents during their routines.
“Where are you going with this, T?” asked Soarin.
“She’s got that stretchy shit on her, so you can basically do whatever you want without hurting her,” pointed out Thunderlane.
“Well, she’s my wife, so I don’t really plan to hurt her in the—”
“You ever stick a cock in her head?”
Whatever Soarin was about to say immediately vanished into the aether. Now, he could only concern himself with what on Celestia’s green Earth Thunderlane was talking about.
“Uh… No? Why would I do that?” asked Soarin.
“Because, you big dummy, it shuts them down. You try to function with a cock poking your brain.” Thunderlane leapt up from the couch, rubbing his hands together deviously. “You stick a dick into her ear, she goes all vegetable-y for a bit. You could dump twelve loads in her and only have to worry about cleanup.”
Soarin couldn’t help but stare at his friend, his slimy, deviant, appalling friend with a mix of disgust and disbelief. He wasn’t even sure how to respond to that.
“How do you get that fucked up?” asked Soarin with a shake of the head.
“No, wait, hear me out. She’s fucking you anyway, right? And it’s your cum, who is she to say where you dump it?” Thunderlane grinned at his friend’s disgusted expression. This was pretty much what he lived for. “You won’t hurt her. I’ve brain-fucked Dusty plenty of times, all that happened is that she got kinda pissy afterwards. But, you know, she’s always a bitch, so who cares?”
“Okay, so, ignoring for a moment how fucked up that is, let’s talk about the obvious problem,” said Soarin. “I’ve only got the one dick. Who’s going to put it in her head? Hypothetically.”
“Uh, duh. Me.” Soarin shot him a dirty look. “What? You won’t let me fuck your wife’s ass or pussy, which is fine, but at least let me fuck her brain. It’s not cheating if I stick my dick in her ear.”
“Dude… What the fuck?”
“Look, you’ve kept her to yourself for how long now?” asked Thunderlane, as if he felt slighted by Soarin and Spitfire’s faithfulness to one another. “So, unless I beat off to her panties, this is as close as I’m getting.”
“How would you get her panties?” asked Soarin, though he almost didn’t want to know.
“Not ‘would’, but ‘did’, and Dusty stole them for me. They’ve been sitting under my bed for like a week, just getting all ripe.” Thunderlane licked his lips. “I wonder how they smell…”
“Okay, okay, stop. That’s not okay.”
“What? You’re not cool with hearing about how fucking hard your wife’s panties make me? How much I want to take those sexy orange boyshorts and inhale them, all the sweat and—”
“If I let you fuck Spitfire in the head, will you shut the fuck up?”
Thunderlane grinned. Was that really so hard?
“Can’t hurt your chances.”
“Fine! Fine, whatever,” groaned Soarin. “Look, she'll be back any minute now, so are you ready to do this now?”
“Dude, I'm always ready.”
Spitfire sighed as she kicked the door shut behind her. She dropped her groceries off at the kitchen, then immediately made her way up to the bedroom. Shopping was done, her day was free, and she wanted nothing more than to rip Soarin’s clothes off with her teeth.
“Soarin! I’m home!” she called as she ascended the stairs.
“I’m in the bedroom!”
Spitfire grinned, just about able to taste the anticipation in Soarin’s voice. She all but ran up the rest of the stairs, swinging open the door to her bedroom and crossing the room to the bed. She pulled her hoodie off and tossed it in the hamper, which left her in just her tight, form-fitting black shorts and her tank top, which showed off her arms and abs. Just the way she knew Soarin liked.
“Just a minute, babe, just getting ready!” Soarin’s voice came from the bathroom, just a few feet away. A moment later and the bathroom door opened, bringing with it Soarin. He was dressed even less than Spitfire, just his boxers. Spitfire licked her lips, simply dying to get her hands on Soarin.
He acted first, scooping Spitfire up and carrying her to the bed. He tossed her down and grabbed the waistband of her shorts, slowly rolling them down her tight, compact curves. A thin strand of her excitement clung to her shorts, connecting them to her aching, dripping, wanting pussy. Spitfire had a figure that could be described as aerodynamic. She was toned and lithe and athletic and sexy. Soarin took a moment to appreciate just how lucky of a man he was before planting wet kisses along the inside of Spitfire’s thighs.
Soarin began his work, prodding and poking Spitfire’s twat with his tongue. He started off slowly and gently, dancing across her lower lips. He teased her, getting her worked up until she was practically begging for it.
She was so focused on Soarin’s tongue that she didn’t notice Thunderlane carefully and quietly flutter out of the bathroom. He held his cock in his hand, stroking it to Spitfire’s moaning and panting as he neared the bed. He was a bit longer than Soarin, sitting comfortably at a full twelve inches. He lacked the girth that Soarin had, but he didn’t let that didn’t discourage him in the slightest.
“Stop teasing and just put it in!” hissed Spitfire.
Thunderlane knew she was talking to Soarin, but he decided to take this as permission anyway. He dropped onto the bed, kneeling with his cock level to Spitfire’s ear.
“Sorry about this, Captain,” said Thunderlane.
“Thunderlane?! What the fuuuu…”
Thunderlane groaned as he forced his dick into Spitfire’s ear, stretching her ear canal with a combination of his stallionhood and Princess Twilight’s magic. The spell that allowed Spitfire’s body to stretch did so slowly, gradually, and with very little wiggle room. The spell allowed for Thunderlane to fit his dick cozily into Spitfire’s warm, wet skull, with a fit as tight as any ass or pussy Thunderlane had ever felt.
As soon as Thunderlane’s cock passed through Spitfire’s ear, her eyes crossed and her jaw went slack. She let out a low, slurred giggle, a little spittle of drool leaking down the corner of her mouth. Soarin almost couldn't believe it; With one thrust, Thunderlane had (temporarily) rendered Spitfire comatose. In a strange way, she was quite beautiful like this. It was wildly out of character for her to be smiling and giggling like that, but it was nice to see nonetheless. She looked so happy and content. Pretty. It was at that point that Soarin realized that he had just allowed his wife to be turned into vegetable and all he could think about was how pretty she was. How much he wanted to fuck her in her unresponsive state and put a baby in her.
Soarin wasn't sure if there’s a hell, but, if there is, he's definitely going.
“Holy shit,” groaned Thunderlane. “Nice and tight. Lightning Dust has got nothing on your lady's skull.”
“Jesus, dude.” Soarin wasn't sure if he was more disgusted or amazed. “Where does it all go?”
“In her head, duh.”
“But your dick has to be at least a foot long. Spitfire’s head is what, six inches across? How does it—”
“It just fucking fits, okay? Don't think about it, it just fits. Now hurry up and fuck her! Her head is so tight, I don't know how long I can last. I thought I might bust just putting the damn thing in!”
Soarin nodded, then pulled his half-hard cock out of his boxers. He slapped his dick gently against Spitfire’s fuzzy yellow mound, eliciting a tiny giggle from his wife.
“Tickles,” she said, her voice slurred and almost incoherent. “That feels funny…”
“Dude, this is majorly fucked,” said Soarin shakily. He could condemn this act all he wanted, but he couldn't stop his cock from getting harder and harder as he rubbed his dick against Spitfire’s dripping cunt. He lined his rod up with Spitfire’s hole and slowly pushed himself in. Soarin let out a groan as Spitfire’s hungry twat swallowed his dick.
“Take off her top,” said Thunderlane. He slowly pulled his hips back, just to thrust fiercely into Spitfire's ear. “I wanna see those tits.”
“I think you're enjoying this too much.”
“Dude, don't be a dick.” Thunderlane grabbed Spitfire’s tank top and ripped it apart, letting her pert, perfect boobs out for all to see. “Awesome…” He grabbed a tit in his right hand, kneading the soft, supple flesh between his fingers.
Soarin was annoyed, but knew he was on a timer, so he decided not to dwell on his best friend molesting his wife. He brought his hips forward and then back, his cock gripped tightly by Spitfire’s velvety insides. He built up a rhythm of long, slow thrusts to start, hilting inside her for a bit before pulling his cock almost all the way out and repeating. He lost himself in the soft, warm feeling of Spitfire’s walls.
“Alright, Romeo, she’s braindead,” said Thunderlane with a roll of the eyes. “You can be a little rougher. Better fuck her while you can, cause you probably won’t be getting any pussy for a while after this.”
Soarin hadn’t thought of that. Fuck.
“Well, no turning back now,” he said. Soarin quickened his pace, pounding like a piston so hard that he surely would’ve been hurting Spitfire under normal circumstances. Fortunately, it seemed that Thunderlane knew what he was talking about. Spitfire didn’t seem to notice what was happening to her, not acknowledging the furious pounding with anything more than silly giggles and goofy grunts.
Meanwhile, Thunderlane was no longer content to just sit with his dick in Spitfire’s head. He reared his hips back and thrust fiercely, nearly impaling Spitfire’s brain with his cock. He grabbed Spitfire by the hair and held her head in place to allow him to more ferociously pound her skull with his cock.
Spitfire’s tongue lolled out of her mouth, bringing with it a dribble of saliva. She tried to speak, not able to form any sensible words. Soarin shuddered at how hot he found this all, how wrong it was, how little he cared, and doubled his efforts. Each deep, quick thrust made Spitfire’s tits bounce, her tongue sway as it drooped out of her mouth. Seeing her like this, mindless, drooling, it set Soarin off more than he ever could have imagined. He let out a groan, and Spitfire’s walls tightened around his cock.
“Baaaaah…” drooled Spitfire vacantly. Thunderlane chuckle, pounding her ear so hard that his balls slapped the side of her face.
“I think you just made her cum,” he laughed. “Speaking of… I don’t have much longer, bro. If you’re gonna do it, now’s the time.”
Soarin nodded, and repositioned slightly. He grabbed Spitfire’s legs and pulled them up into the air, effectively folding her in half and allowing him better angle of entry. He grabbed Spitfire’s thighs, digging his finger into her soft flesh and went to town, pounding his cock harder and harder into his blank, mindless wife. His breathing grew heavier, his gaze focused wholly on Spitfire’s empty stare. He hilted in Spitfire, letting out a deep, bestial grunt as he erupted. His cock throbbed, spurting load after load of hot, sticky cum into Spitfire. His load was too big for her to contain, and soon his seed was dripping from her well-used marehood, staining the bedsheets with off-white spunk.
Thunderlane wasn’t far behind his friend, shoving his cock as far into Spitfire’s head as he could before cumming. With no womb to catch it, Thunderlane’s massive load went out from every available exit; Spitfire’s mouth, nose, other ear, even her eyes were leaking, gushing with cum by the time he pulled out. When he was free of Spitfire’s skull, Thunderlane stroked his sticky, slimy cock, depositing the last of his load across Spitfire’s face. Spitfire dropped limp against the bed and Thunderlane pried her mouth open, using the free hole to clean the jizz from his cock.
“Fucking radical,” he groaned, wiping his cum onto Spitfire’s tongue. “Way better than jerking off to her panties.”
“Dude, seriously? You couldn’t get a towel?” Soarin rolled his eyes, but had a hard time staying annoyed. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Thunderlane’s plan was pretty great. “That’s still my wife.”
“Hey, you just raped her while she was in a vegetative state.” Thunderlane crossed his arms and grinned. “I don’t know if you’re really in a position to be condescending.”
“Fuck off.”
“Hey, you’re welcome! How many friends do you have that would fuck your wife’s skull for you?”
“T-Thunderlane?” Spitfire sat up, dazed. She shook her head, sending flecks of semen across the room. “Why do I feel so tired? What’s this shit on my face?” She ran a finger across her face and inspected it, shuddering in disgust. “What?! What the fuck did you do?!” She looked down at her pussy, leaking cum onto the bed. “Who the fuck?! Soarin, I’m gonnaaaa…”
As she was ranting, Soarin found the opportunity to stick his newly-hard cock into her ear, returning her to her braindead state of a few minutes prior.
“Well, she took that about as well as I expected,” said Soarin. He looked down at Spitfire, her expression once again vacant and drooling. “Hey, you want sloppy seconds?”
“Are you shitting me? Hell yeah!” cheered Thunderlane. “I gotta pull out?”
“Nah. Let’s see if I can’t get twins out of her.”
Thunderlane nearly cried at how lucky he was.
“Best. Friend. Ever.”
Author's Note
This was inspired by a post by Dark-Chocolate-Eidi on Tumblr. They proposed a hypothetical scenario based around the fucked up fetish potential of Equestria's cartoon physics, and I decided to run with it. I really liked the idea, so this probably won't be the last time you see me visit this idea.
We're going to call this the first entry in my Cartoon Physics Equestria continuity.
If you have any semblance of humanity left, please, don't ever read any of the future stories. In fact, if you're able, go back in time and stop yourself from reading this. It's unfit for the eyes of mortal men.
