It was supposed to be easy; an unprotected house in an abandoned settlement just absolutely lit up like a Hearth’s Warming tree with only one pony inside? Piece of cake. We would go in, element of surprise on our side, take what we want, and either leave the pony in a bloodied heap, or kill them altogether. It’s a strategy my crew had used for years, and it had served us well as we traipsed across the wasteland.
Oh how wrong we were.
Not two seconds after we kicked the door down did I watch the bodies of my three fellow raiders hit the ground like a sack of hammers, not even given the time to cry out before a piece of hot lead was rocketed through their brains. This pony had obviously been expecting us.
The question of why he hadn’t killed me as well crossed my mind briefly, but before I was able to reach for my own weapon, I felt the butt of a rifle against the back of my head, and all went black.
When I came to, I felt my airway being cut off as a russet hoof pressed against my neck. Dirty, matted fetlocks begat scarred legs that, upon further inspection, looked a little fresher than scars of that magnitude ought to be. Seeing stars in my vision from the lack of oxygen, I barely noticed as I was lifted and thrown upon a nearby table. The wood splintered under my weight as I gasped and sputtered, trying to get air into my starved lungs. A rusty knife was pressed to my neck with one hoof as the other was used to tightly cuff one of my pasterns to the leg of the table. My assailant was silent the entire time, save for our heavy breathing.
The reason for my unexpected sparing was quickly brought to attention as I felt the wanderer’s engorged sheath grind against my lower belly. Panic surging through my veins, I made to move, to yell, to plea, to do something to make him stop when the knife pressed harder against my throat, staining the blade red with a few drops of my blood.
“You. Will. Be. Quiet. Understand?”
I attempted to nod and only managed to make the cut into my neck deeper, a strangled yelp being my only affirmative. He seemed mollified by this answer, and removed the knife from my neck, pocketing it for the time being. I reached for my neck with my free hoof, and earned a glare that threatened imminent death should I attempt any sudden movements.
Being able to look downward made me all too aware of the massive member the stallion was packing. I wasn’t exactly the wasteland whore, but I had bedded my fair share of stallions, and this had to have been the largest cock I had ever seen. I couldn’t help the whimper that left my throat as the stranger ran his hoof down his length. He sized me up, looking me up and down before rearing up and settling his heavy barrel upon mine, shucking his gear and saddlebags off as what seemed to be an afterthought.
Any type of lubrication, it also seemed, was deemed an afterthought as well, as he shunted his hips forward. The stallion missed the first couple of thrusts, his oversized dick slapping against my thighs, my stomach, and my own sheathed set before sinking into me in one deep thrust.
To say that my insides were on fire would be an understatement. I’ve been shot, stabbed, beaten, and bruised more times than I could count, and yet none of them held a candle to the inferno that became of my intestines. No time was given for me to process the intrusion as my assailant pushed forward again, balls slapping my dock as he hilted into me again and again. I could feel blood leaking out of my ass, coating the turgid member and giving it some blessed lubrication as I was pressed into over and over.
Nature is as Nature does, and the Equine brain when faced with trauma is known to send endorphins to the body to initiate the fight or flight response. The scales had been tipped far enough with me that my body had begun to respond in a way it felt would preserve it best in this situation. Horrifyingly, I felt a heat coiling in my loins as my cock began to stir. My mind clouded over as shock set in, and while the pain I felt in my guts was still there--very much so in fact--my mind had decided that it was to be lower on the hierarchy of worries at the moment.
The coil quickly tightened within my stomach as the stallion continued to plow into me. The blood flowed more freely now, letting the cock in my ass slide in and out with less effort; the combination of my blood, and his juices mingling in a puddle on the floor with a slow but constant drip.
The coil in my stomach had become painful as my now pulsing erection slapped against my chest with every thrust, matting the fur on our chests. The stallion felt close as well, biting into my shoulder roughly as his hot breath burned my nostrils. I felt the stallion flare painfully inside of my churning guts as he came with a final thrust, crushing me against his heaving chest.
He pulled out of me then; a slew of blood and cum pouring out of my abused hole with a wet ‘pop’. Leaning against the table, he flopped his still hard girth onto my front, saying the last of the entire six words I had heard him utter that night.
“Lick.”
It would have been foolish of me to not do as instructed, and I had yet to come down from the shock-induced endorphin rush, so in my afterglow addled mind I acquiesced.
Sated, the stallion dismounted the table, and by extension myself. The neurochemicals were starting to wear off, and the blood loss was beginning to take its toll on my body. Curiously, the last thing I heard before I lost consciousness was the sound of a cuff being unlocked, and I felt the sting of a syringe in my upper thigh before my vision went black once more.
