Your breasts ache…
As does your back...
Your thighs too...
Feet...
Everything hurts.
Ever since you were figuratively tossed into Equestria you’ve ran into no shortage of things that put you into some variation of pain. Be it migraines from the town’s endless supply of naggers, all wanting you to answer their random inquiry, or reaching something from the top shelf at the supermarket. At first, it was fun. It was typically just questions about you and where you came from, and you gained considerable enjoyment from embellishing your trivia. You answered honestly sometimes, lied others, and you felt a swell of pride from being the town’s ‘little helper.’ But...
Being greeted as ‘The Queen of Earth’ got old after a while, especially when you were in too deep to go back on your self-given title. And being expected to do chores rather than doing them out of the kindness of your heart rapidly faded the novelty of the appreciative smiles, which just became mere grunts of acknowledgment after a while.
So, after a few weeks, you found a way to escape the pestering; the menial tasks, the ceaseless whinging: A job!
...
Perhaps not your best idea.
You found a place far from everybody else, with the exception of a rather small family - legions of extended cousins aside. But, even now, after months of carrying baskets of apples and hand picking the delicious red fruits from the unending fields of trees, the result aches of carrying such a heavy weight on the regular might not have been wise move on your part. A career in apple picking and hauling was apt for a pony, but for yourself? Nah. Well, your fault anyway for being such a misanthrope.
However, if there was a singular upside to this whole ordeal, it took shape in that of a large and stout red stallion. To you, he was the boss, the hoss, the big cheese, the big kahuna, the big... Big was an ample metaphor for the stallion who took you on, in fact, it was his first name. Big Macintosh. He was perfect in that he was sparing with his words, and showed a silent but blatant appreciation for your efforts, which, as cheesy as you thought it was, was far greater of a motivation to work than the admittedly generous salary. But then again, being paid in gold, even if it was just a few pieces, sure as shit beat minimum wage.
When you first started to work for the apple family, he oft accompanied you whilst you worked. He’d keep the ladder balanced whilst you plucked the family’s renowned fruit from the tree, and helped share the load of your collected bushels. When you grew tired and weary, your admittedly delicate body not suited for the kind of work you put upon yourself, he’d finish the rest of the day for you, giving you nothing more than a knowing wink. And who said chivalry was dead? But you weren’t completely without pride. You might not have been strong, or necessarily independent, having to rely on the apples for housing, food and money… but you were a woman! A human woman. And you had to have some standards for yourself.
After the first month you became insistent on doing your work by yourself. Applejack appreciated your initiative, and Big Mac agreed, his approving smile all you needed to get on with your work. It was encouraging, for sure. Buuuut... in hindsight, a stronger back and muscle might have been what you needed instead. For the first week of doing things on your own initiative, many days you found yourself waking up suddenly propped up against a tree, your hauling basket mysteriously absent; replaced with a glass of freshly squeezed apple juice and a PB&J sandwich.
You weren’t great at this.
A second month passed and you made some progress on the whole ‘not-collapsing-from-exhaustion’ front. Now, you only felt crippled at the end of every work day. More often than not, requiring the services of Big Mac and his muscles in getting back to your room at the farm house. What steadily began to irk you about the end of every work day was something that had started to occur shortly after you began working. Praise. Good job. You did great today. Well done. Again, much like the questions from the ponies, you liked it at first… at first. Then it became patronising.
You knew they meant well. Not an ounce of condescension was in their bones but you know it wasn’t deserved praise. You rarely completed your given quota to completion, even after they started to lower it to something more achievable, and you always broke a sweat. And that was the amazing thing. After spending most of your life on Earth, a mere half a year in Equestria, and you had actually began developing something that could be construed as a self-esteem!
This world was truly magical.
You were a changed woman after this realisation struck you. It motivated you more than you already were. You ignored the pain - both physical and mental - and you put on a cool face, only dropping unconscious from exhaustion when in the confines of your own room, when nobody could see you. Much to your surprise, in time, it did get easier. You got stronger, you felt your feminine muscles become defined, your breaths were less likely to devolve into dog-like pants after hauling a basket of apples back to the barn. You felt confident, fit, more capable of actually doing your job. This… this must of been what exercise was!
Yet, despite your burgeoning abs, defining biceps and stronger thighs, the work still played havoc on you. The heaviest loads were burdensome on your legs, and hauling a heavy basket onto your back after climbing down from the ladder was a right nuisance on your back. On hot days, when you’d only wear a vest, the straps of the basket dug painfully into your shoulders. Most days, you couldn’t wait to be done with your work, although at the very least it wasn’t due to how exhausted it made you feel after you finished it anymore.
On a Sunday, on a bright blue day, whilst in the middle of your long work day, you had an epiphany. Or rather, you had an epiphany that you should have had an epiphany. This strange moment of realisation occured when your hand, now sporting a few calluses, gripped around a large red apple in the tree you were collecting from. You plucked it down, brought it to your face. Was this the epiphany? No, no. The apple stoked a question in you. That question being: Why?
Why were you working here? Your initial reason was to escape, but considering how you were back then you should’ve ran off at the first sign of struggle, but… you didn’t. You were getting closer now, you could feel it. There was a reason for staying beyond pay, beyond a place to stay and lay. It was someone. You looked to your right. It was around dusk, but it was summer, so the farmstead was still bathed in a warm orange glow. You saw some ponies, ones you’ve grown familiar with over the months.
Was it Granny Smith? No. As much as you enjoyed her apple pie, food wasn’t a good enough justification for staying. Or else you would’ve spent every hour of every day trying to get back home to a nice fat burger.
Applejack, maybe? She’s honest, kind, and with that accent of hers you could listen to her talk for hours. But a kind soul alone wasn’t enough to justify rooting your hiney to her farm.
You had a further epiphany, one that may have grossed you at first, but perhaps you were stayed by… attraction. Feelings, that whole gross affair. But you were resolute of one thing.
You didn’t swing that way.
You saw a smaller figure helping her sister, and you grimaced.
Was Apple Bloom your reason for staying?
…
Eww. No, of course not.
You then saw the big red stallion himself saunter from the barn. He had put his work collar away for the night, looking relaxed and contented as he always was. On this line of thinking, you scanned the pony more closely. The draft horse was large, well built. Even though a pony’s fur hid muscle, you have laid across his back before. You recalled how hard his body felt, something you had never given a second thought to suddenly made your cheeks flush as red as the apple you were holding. It shouldn’t be surprising that after so many months in the presence of these creatures that certain… barriers, began to crumble. Being the kind of person you are, you only fretted with the fact you felt attracted to the big red stallion for about, oh, two seconds? You were pretty sure Big Macintosh would pass the Harkness test… well, you were a girl. So… Lawaxana Troi test?
So, with all that in mind, was it Big Macin- of course it was Big Macintosh!
“Somethin’ the matter?” Applejack called out to you from the cart. “You’ve been holdin’ that apple for a, uh, mighty long time?”
The words didn’t hit you until a few seconds after they had been said, and when they did, you dropped the large red apple you were holding in surprise; the fruit conveniently falling into the fruit basket below.
“Y-yeah, I mean, no!” you called back, forcing a weak smile. “I was just, uh…” you struggled to think of a convincing lie, one good enough to penetrate the abstruse and internal lie-detector of the Element of Honesty. “Admiring the last apple of the work day! Hahaha… ha!”
Applejack knitted her brows together, before throwing her head back to chortle, wiping a tear from her eye shortly after. “Aww, shucks. Now you’re starting to sound like a real member of the Apple family!” she called, seemingly falling for your terrible lie.
The two of you looked at each other from afar, smiling, until the one you wore wavered into something awkward. “M-maybe I should come over to you so we don’t have to keep shouting!”
“That would be fine!”
You brought the apple basket back to the cart besides AJ, heaving up your generous gathering and placing it onto the cart where they’d no doubt be taken to the market tomorrow to be sold off to the rest of the populace. You glanced to Big Macintosh, the red stallion meeting your gaze, to which he responded with a smile and nod.
“H-hey…” was your response, and a half-wave. Your pitiful, embarrassing response.
Much to your relief Big Mac didn’t seem phased by your fluster, giving a restrained chuckle through his nostrils before trailing over to the house where he quickly disappeared inside. Your eyes were glued to him the entire time, you didn’t know what exactly about him you found, uh, sexy. But the longer you watched him, the quicker your heart pounded against your aching ribs.
You already hated this feeling. You felt like some typical movie heroine struck with the lovebug, and you always abhorred those movies. Not in the ‘I’m not like other girls’ sort of way, but more so the feeling of ‘these movies give me crippling feelings of loneliness and depression’ sort of way.
After a moment or two of relying on the cart to keep you standing, you entered the home, kicking off your sandals. You soon joined the rest of the Apples at the dinner table, a privilege you had only been able to enjoy rather recently, considering the first few months you oft made a cocoon out of your bed sheets and slumbered until afternoon of the next day; making up for your missed dinner with a very hearty breakfast. Dinner after work was a very homely feeling. A warm meal to fill your belly, laughter and friendly discussion at the dinner table. It felt like a sitcom. But, it wouldn’t be a sitcom without a situation to which an audience would laugh at… you don’t like the idea of being laughed at.
It was an arbitrary decision when you first sat at the dinner table all those weeks ago, but now with hindsight, and recent developments, you know exactly why you chose to sat where you did.
You could feel his warmth on your flesh, and he was only sitting next to you. It was as though your senses underwent a fine tuning after since your revelation. His masculine heat, his earthy and rugged scent, his breathing. You picked up all of it. Aside from feeling like a creep now, you suddenly adopted a reserved caricature of yourself. You kept your legs firmly together as to not accidentally graze against the stallion’s thigh, and shyly nibbled at the food on your plate, refusing to even look to your right all the while contributing little to nothing to the conversation… at least that wasn’t out of the ordinary, your lack of natural social grace taken into account.
“You okay there, missy?” Granny Smith asked, concern in her tone.
Shit. If it were possible, you were apparently even more graceless than usual.
“Y-yeah, Gee-ranny! Pshaw!” you waved dismissively, braying like an ass - both literal and figurative - as you tried to play off your maladroitness.
The old mare was wide-eyed at your outburst, you troglodyte. You scanned the table. Applejack, much like her granny, was taken aback by your particular brand of stupid. Applebloom was looking between the faces at the table with a bemused smile. Big Mac, well, you couldn’t even force yourself to look at him.
“Sugarcube-”
“I’m excusing myself,” you interrupted Applejack. A first for you. You never interrupted anybody before. It might have been the confidence from your rocking new bod, or so you told yourself. Hint hint. It rhymes with amygdalin, except you’re pretty sure you’re tasting something far more bitter in your mouth.
You pushed yourself from the table, your chair, and skirted past the big red stallion to the stairway; seeing his knitted brow stare out of the corner of your eye. Your posture was rigid as you walked, your long outward steps looking like something out of Fawlty Towers, You climbed the stairs and quickly disappeared into your room where you became resolute that you’d never leave it. Drama queen.
Long after, you heard a knock at your door.
“Go away,” you requested from under the sheets, and then you added, “please.”
You heard the door open anyway...
They mustn’t have heard you.
You heard the door close behind them, and their heavy clops on your room’s floor as they neared you. They stopped just before the bed. You dared a peek under the sheet and grimaced. Under the bright moonlight, you could easily make out the red shape of a stallion.
Him.
You groaned, and curled up into an even tighter ball, pulling for enough back under the darkness of your self-made cocoon that he hopefully couldn’t see your eye. You, however, could assuredly see him. On the low bed he appeared to tower over you. His strong stature in such a position was intimidating, but you couldn’t help but feel a bit… bothered, with a pairing of hot.
You shrank even further into your den.
“Erm…” Big Mac started, scratching the back of his large neck with his hoof, his brows furrowed as he looked at you. You saw his lips pursed, and it was clear he wasn’t quite sure what to say about what just occurred. Neither did you, to be fair. “Did you lie to Granny?” he asked in his drawl, concern plastered on his face.
“No… kinda… sorta… yes,” you eventually admitted, cringing, feeling shame at Big Mac’s flat stare.
Big Mac then sat down, and released a weary sigh, his lips curled into a small friendly smile. “C’mon then. Tell me. I’ll help if ah can, whatever it may be.”
You recognised that he was sincere. He always was. You inhaled quietly. “You… you promise you won’t be mad?”
“Eeyup!” he replied, nodding several times. The sight was oddly… cute.
Oh God…
You shrank into an even tighter ball, and took a breath. You then murmured a close approximation of your problem, pouring out your heart, soul, everything. You realised what he… what he meant to you. He was the first person, well, pony, who you’ve ever felt like this for. You realised why you liked spending so much time around him. Why you found him so easy to talk to, He was the sole reason why you stayed, bettered yourself for your work. It was to make him proud. You haven’t known him for too long but he has made your life all the better for being in it. After all that, you released a sigh, feeling as though the entire world was lifted off your shoulders...
“What was that, darlin’? Couldn’t quite hear ya over the mumblin’ and mutterin’."
You pillock.
Whimpering, you realized that your ’confession’ was nothing more than a incoherent and whispered ramble that not even a bat could hear. Gulping, you resolved to try again. “IthinkIlikeyou!” you gushed.
“What?”
“IthinkIlikeyou!”
“Come again?”
“I-” you began, ready to explode your confession at him, before you took a breath, pulling the sheets down from over you. You knew your cheeks were as red as he was, and looking away, you finally mustered the strength to speak. “I think I like you.”
“Oh…” Big Mac replied. You expected something denser admittedly, something like ‘I know you like me, we’re good friends’. But from the softness at which the large stallion acknowledged your confession, you already knew that he understood completely.
“Yeah…”
“So you… like me, like me?”
“Yeah…”
He blinked. “But I’m not what you are-”
“Yeah…”
Thereafter, silence reigned your room. You almost laughed at the surrealness of the situation - A big red stallion talking to a blanket who has feelings for him. It seemed like a bad sketch in some comedy that was quietly cancelled after the first season. You managed to look at him, finally. His lips were pursed, and his muzzle slightly lowered. He reminded you of a dog almost, with the way his emerald eyes appeared twice as large and doubly cute as a result. Clifford. The thought made your lip curl slightly, despite the circumstances.
“What?” Big Mac asked, noting your small smile.
“Just something stupid,” was your answer, propping yourself up against the headboard, your hands fidgeting over your stomach. You felt more at ease now, but still awkward. You glanced to him. “So… I’ve never really… I’ve never done something like this before.”
Big Macintosh released a sympathetic smirk, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah can tell.”
You pouted, brows furrowed. “And you have?”
The big stallion chuckled. “Ah didn’t say that, ah didn’t say that,” he reiterated, his hoof raised disarmingly. “It’s jus’, well, kinda obvious.”
You crossed your arms, blushing. “You’re kinda obvious,” you mimicked his drawl beneath your breath, looking to your right, away from him.
“It’s kinda cute.”
Bum-bum. Bum-bum.
You felt your heart do leaps at that comment. You gave him a coy look from the corner of your eye. His smile was dumb, but charming in its own way. “I-I’m cute?” you asked him shyly,
“Kinda,” he grinned. If he was anything like his sister, then he was being sincere. This was quite a milestone for you in life. Nobody has told you that you were cute before.
“How so?” you asked, experiencing a sudden high, shimmying closer to the edge of the bed.
Big Mac blinked before chewing the inside of his cheek, considering. He spent a while thinking, and you felt yourself deflate. “Yer nose is cute,” he said after a while, looking at with a smile you read as suave, and you couldn’t help but let out a small scoff. “What?”
“Um, noses aren’t really the first thing people go to when picking out something cute about somebody,” you answered, wearing a humoured smile.
“Well, I ain’t a person, ah’m a pony,” he replied, his lips cracked into a grin. He had you there. “Ah’m I handsome?” he asked suddenly before you could speak, catching you off guard.
“Yes,” you replied on reflex.
“How so?” he asked, and then you knew he caught you in the very same trap you unwittingly caught him in.
“Um, well…” you began, looking over the stallion; your mind racing. You could say something cliche, like this eyes - which were admittedly pretty due to the strength of their colour - but it sounded so low effort that you knew he’d know that you just said the first thing that came to your head… so you said the second thing that came to your head instead. “Your hooves!”
He blinked, so baffled, he didn’t even chortle. “What?”
“They’re so rugged, so strong. Y-you can tell they’re the hooves of a working pony,” you explained, your cheeks pulling back into a forced smile. You applied some truth to a seemingly innocuous part of his body and hoped it would fly.
Raising a brow, he brought his hoof to his face, inspecting it, before looking at you with a bemused smile. “Are ya seein’ somethin’ I ain’t?”
It did not. “No…” you muttered, exhaling through your nostrils. You looked at him again, his eyebrows were knitted, his hoof still raised. “I guess I like you for being, well, you.”
With this, he wore one of the largest smiles you’ve seen him wear, his bright red cheeks becoming a darker shade. Had you made him blush? You. You. “Aw, shucks. That’s tha nicest thing ah’ve heard anyone say about me,” he started, raising his hoof, “other than compliments ‘bout mah hooves.”
You felt your disposition brighten, and chuckled at his ending remark. “No one ever called me cute before you, you know. But then again, nobody has complimented me on my nose either,” you told him, giving a slight shrug. “I don’t know if you are, but… you’re a handsome stallion, Big Macintosh.”
Big Mac wore a small smile, and gave a slight nod. “And you’re a pretty human, whatever that may be.”
You both shared a small laugh. The surrealness of the situation obviously wasn’t lost on either of you, but the tension was gone. You were both simply two individuals in the same crazy situation. One you created admittedly, but still...
Soon after, going through this weird situation one step at a time, you decided to ask the red stallion a question you intended to keep to yourself. “What should we do then? About… this,” you gestured between the two of you with your finger, wryly smiling.
Big Mac gave you a slight shrug, releasing a nervous chuckle. “Can’t say I know the answer to that, darlin’. Ya’ll never confessed, ah’ve never been confessed to. We’re in the same cart here.”
After he finished, you felt yourself return to your timid state from before, looking downwards and pressing the tips of your index fingers together, nervous. “I know something we could do. It’s also something I’ve never done before. Something I think I’d like to do with you…”
“What?” he asked, brow raised high.
He picked a bad time to be dense, although it didn’t help that you were bad at inferring what you wanted.
“I… I’ve…” you struggled to find a way to say what you wanted to say without coming off like a sexually repressed hermit. You weren’t sexually repressed! You’ve been on plenty of dates… with your hands and a laptop. “I want to kiss you… if that’s alright with you… you don’t have to-”
“Okay,” he answered softly, interrupting you before you could continue your self-conscious rambling.
You blinked, pausing. The large stallion had one hoof wrapped around the other, his face lowered, aflutter. “Y-you will?”
“Eeyup,” he nodded, a comely simper appearing on his face; his cheeks a deeper shade of crimson.
“Then how should we…” you began, but stopped abruptly. This was your chance to be… suave, at least half as charming as he was, or at the very least pretend you knew what the hell you were doing. “Do you want to get onto the b-bed?”
He raised his brow, bug eyed.
“It’s just to keep us level!” you explained, quick. “I don’t want to be on my knees…” you reasoned, wondering if that would change later, “and you don’t want to have to stand on your hind legs. This should make things less complicated…”
His lip curled and he nodded. You bent your legs as he climbed onto the other half of the bed, the springs screaming under his weight as he sat on his belly, looking at you, the gentle light of the moon accentuated his smile. Wordlessly, you maneuvered onto your belly, your legs bent behind you. The size of the bed meant the two of your faces were just mere inches from one another, your eyes staring directly into his brilliant sap green hues. The setting wasn’t entirely romantic, but the moonlight which bathed you both certainly helped improve things.
This was it.
Swallowing down apprehension, you slowly advanced your mouth towards his. The stallion was still the entire time, but you were close enough to feel the exhales from his nose glance off your cheeks. After what felt like an eternity to you, you finally pushed your puckered lips against his, connecting them into something reminiscent of a kiss. His mouth was larger than yours, so it did feel a tad lopsided, like pressing your lips into two large marshmallows. But like marshmallows, they were soft, something your found surprising. Equally, he didn’t advance it, he just remained frozen, staring into your eyes. This close, you could really inhale his earthy scent, the thick smell of work and apples. It was nice. Manly. However, that didn’t detract from the fact that it looked like you had to make the next move. You didn’t know how to go about that at first, but then you realised, this wasn’t first year, you were an adult! And you needed to kiss him like one!
Behind your puckered lips, your teeth parted, and you pushed forwards your tongue; breaking apart your lips to prod against the stallion’s lips, which he then parted. Your tongue quickly became a guest in the stallion’s mouth. He tasted sweet, his teeth having the faint impression of mint. It was nice to see that the farmer was keeping up with his oral hygiene. You then felt it. It was the first bit of movement from the stallion since you kissed him, and even though you were expecting it, it still caught you by surprise. His large, wide tongue, started an incredibly one-sided wrestle with yours. It was massive, as expected, your own barely able to coil around it, only able to put up a pittance of a fight, sliding and trying to keep up with his slow movements.
Yet, despite the clumsiness of the whole affair, it was wonderful. You did that thing you saw in all the movies. Leaning your head to one side, closing your eyes, a hand was sent up to caress his cheek as you swapped spit. You hummed, delighted. You had no clue if this was as good for him as it was for you, but you hoped so. After a while of doing this, you felt a tight sensation in your chest, one that seemed to get progressively worse by the second. Was it your heart? Was it beating so fast it physically hurt?!
…
Oh, yeah, that.
You broke from the kiss, spittle connecting your lips, your mouth sucking in as much air as it possibly could as you panted.
Big Mac, wide eyed and surprised, extended a hoof; pressing it to your shoulder. “You okay, darlin’?”
“Yeah, sorry, just forgot to breathe,” you said between large gulps of precious, life saving, definitely-should-not-go-without, oxygen.
The stallion chuckled. “You’re really new at this, ain’t ya?”
You purse your lips. “H-how experienced are you, t-then?”
Similar to you, he clamped shut his lips, looking away, bashful. “N-now ah ain’t sayin’ ah’m a casanova or nothin’,” he replied.
“How many?” you asked, his shyness on the subject stoking your curiosity.
He sighed. “One,” he answered, the big pony was surprisingly good at sounding meek, before looking back at you with a small grin. “Ah forgot to breathe the first time too.”
You didn’t remember the stallion being with, well, anypony before you met him. “What happened to your first?” you asked.
He released a thoughtful smirk, giving a small shrug. “Didn’t work out,” he answered, wearing a small sad smile.
You felt your heart sink. You sent your hand back to his cheek, lightly, brushing your thumb over his freckles. “I’m sorry,” you said, sincere. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
He pushed slightly against your hand. He must have liked you cupping his face, even if your hand was too small to cover it entirely. “It’s alright… I have you.”
Bum-bum. Bum-bum.
You smashed your lips with his, the stallion released a surprised yelp as you ferociously tongued him, directing your affection the kiss. Your ears pricked the sound of a moan, the sound the big red stallion giving out a pleasured noise into your mouth surprised you, but also encouraged you. The hand on his cheek slowly slid up and behind his head. Your fingers stroked through his orange mane, trying to go deeper with your tongue. Getting over the initial shock, Big Mac reciprocated, but in a big way. His tongue pushed past yours and entered your mouth. It was large, but he assuredly took charge, his hooves, whilst not as flexible as your hands, were still pleasant to feel pressing into you. It meant he wanted to touch you, to be close to you, as in passion’s throes as you were.
You felt a fire burn within you. One you had plenty of times set inside yourself during a particularly lonely night or as a consequence of watching Ocean’s 11. Only this time, instead of George Clooney’s chiseled visage, it was because of Big Macintosh.
You broke the kiss, the stallion momentarily trying to reconnect it before blinking several times as if breaking from a daze. You reaffirmed your tender grip in his face from the back of his head. You took a deep breath, hardly believing that you were steeling yourself to ask him this next question. You looked deeply into his eyes, and released a shaky breath you had been holding.
“Should we take this further?”
Big Mac said nothing at first. You initially thought that you had taken things too far, that he wasn’t ready… were you ready? Just as fear threaten to take you, the stallion gave a few slow nods; assuaging your growing terror.
“Ah am,” he started, wearing an outsmile; the hooves on your arms giving you a comforting squeeze. “If you are.”
“I’m not really familiar, you know?” you give him a nervous fleer. “I suppose you’d be the same, with me being human and all. I guess we’d both just have to… explore each other.”
The stallion gulped, giving you a nod of understanding. “H-how should we start?”
You considered his words, and glanced downwards, seeing your own breasts contained within your vest. You looked back up at the stallion’s unsure stare. “I’ll get ready. And you get ready…?” you gave an unsure grin.
“Okay… how do I do that?”
You smirked, not quite sure. You barely knew what to do yourself. “I’ll get undressed. When I turn back to face you, how about you… be in a sexy pose or something?” you joked.
He smirked. “I think I can do that, darlin’.”
You clambered off the bed, not realising how excited you actually were until you walked a few steps from the bed with a shaky gait, having to take a moment to compose yourself. Then, with a whisper, you told yourself, “Like ripping off a bandaid…”
You started with your vest, a meagre off-white garment you’ve had with you since you came here. You pulled it up and over your head, tossing it to the floor as you hurried on removing your bra. Once that was removed, your respectable bosom was finally freed. They weren’t Pamela Anderson sized, but they did the job. You went onto unbuttoning your jean shorts next, shimmying them down your thighs and then kicking it off to the room’s corner. All that remained were the panties. They hid your flower, your mons, your feminine core. There were a thousand names for it in a thousand languages, but in your panties was contained your pussy, a pussy unseen by anyone but you, and soon to be seen by the big red stallion behind you. You were slow in sliding them down your legs. It wasn’t meant to be a striptease, just your apprehension, but you hoped Big Mac admired the view as you bent over to remove the dainty cotton garment.
You were left bare now. Naked in moonlight and the room’s warmth. You knew Big Mac was looking at you. You wondered what he thought. Did he find you attractive in the least? Did you average features really excite him… would they excite him? Your credence in getting intimate with the stallion was shook by your own pessimism. With one arm crossed across your chest, your fingers sinking into your other arm, you slowly turned to face him…
Bum-bum. Bum-bum.
On one hand, you wanted to laugh at the directness of the pose, but it was clogged in your throat by your own astonishment. The big draft stallion was in the bed’s centre, leaning against the wall your bed was beside. His idea of sexy was simply ‘displaying’ himself to you. This must have been the first thing to enter his mind, but obviously had his own doubts by the time you turned around. His lips were tightly locked, his eyes looking up at you from his downwards pointing face. His forehooves were held against his broad chest, almost like a dog on its back, a cute sight that contrasted greatly with what you spotted between his spread legs.
They were massive. Huge. Two red cantaloupes contained with a strained sack several shades darker than he was. They were so heavy that they both made depressions in the mattress they were laid on. Adjoined to the fat balls was a sheath, no doubt where his member would come out to say hello should its owner get aroused enough. Only, if his cum churners were that big, you dreaded to imagine how large his dick was. Big Macintosh was certainly living up to his name, in more ways than one it would seem.
“They’re big,” you said suddenly, unsure if you were complimenting him or just unable to think with such a lovely pair of crimson stones in your sights.
“Thanks?” he chuckled, his head skewed as he looked you up and down. “Wow,” he said after a moment, quiet, but genuine.
With the corner of your lip tugging, you took a few apprehensive steps forwards, until you lowered onto your knees. You shuffled forwards on them, the testes seemed much larger up close, and when you finally reached the bed, you felt your heart racing.
Looking up at the stallion, you exhaled, and asked, “Can I…?”
He nodded, and you looked to satisfy your curiosity.
Your hands first touched against his pastern, then up his cannon, stopping your hand’s travel when you could physically feel the heat from his pride. You took a nervous breath, and in doing so, you inhaled him. It was an intimate scent, not unlike that which you smelt whilst kissing him, but this was far more raw, far more deeper and muskier. You felt yourself quiver, a new experience for you but you doubted it would be your last tonight.
Timidly, your fingers then reached for those bulbous orbs that had taken you ever since you looked at them. Your brain seemed slower to process, but you heard Big Mac moan before it fully comprehended to you that your fingers were pressed against his special area. The orbs were pleasantly warm; the turgid sack was also soft, to your surprise. Your hands pressing against them only made them seem larger by comparison, and you really acted on your curiosity of his form. You rubbed the skin between your thumb and forefinger, and then felt the weight of these gargantuan gonads yourself. Cupping them, you hefted them, and again you let out a surprised gasp. You doubted your old self would have been able to lift the obscenely sized nuts with the same ease you were now. They were heavy with seed, roiling with cum of a very pent up stallion. Poor thing.
“These are the biggest balls… the biggest!” you reiterated, looking up at Big Mac’s face. His chest was rising and falling slightly faster than usual, and his expression retained his blush.
“Y-ya already said.”
“I know, but geez. These are just so amazing!” you continued to laude his balls with your continued lack of finesse.
As you continued to fondle his impressive sack, still is disbelief of their weight and size, even when they were in your hands, your eyes flicked to something just as eye catching. You watched, breath bated, as the big red stallion’s big red cock began to emerge. The flat crown of his mighty sceptre intrigued you. The bestial shape of it was oddly alluring, and you felt the ever present scent of his sex grow even denser as his cock poured from his sheath…
You jaw dropped. You almost retreated in fear, letting go of his colossal nuts at least, your eyes now focused on his equally colossal cock. You didn’t count the inches as they came out - not that you could, mind preoccupied - but you were certain its thickness was akin to that of your wrist, if not larger. You felt your cunt and jaw ache at the mere thought of taking the monstrous length within you, and doubted that your fingers would come even close to meeting wrapped around the fat girth.
This would require two hands…
You continued to watch, enthralled, as his member continued to balloon and inflate with piping hot blood. He was already larger than anything you had ever seen in porn, and the throbs and twitches caused you to rub your thighs together; your own arousal growing in tandem with his. The awe inducing cock could barely keep up under its own weight, and it was a serious concern it would just drop suddenly and smack you in the face when it reached its full daunting length.
“You’re huge…” you spoke quietly. His pony boner was gigantic… poner. It cast a shadow up the length of your face. The way the length just throbbed above was the most erotic sight you had seen, if a little intimidating. You knew that if the stallion needed a discreet blunt weapon, he already had one. You just hoped you weren’t at the receiving end of it… or maybe you did. You were sure he wouldn’t judge you.
“I-if ah’m too big then we can st- ah-hah,” he let out a manly squeal as you silence him with your hands.
You gripped around the tip of his virile cock. The palm of your hand was pressed against his flare, and your action was rewarded with a strong throb and sprout-sized drop of pre staining your palm. Your fingers pressed softly into the area where his length met his tip, the ridge of his flare. You pulled down, until his length met his rotund balls, looking like an extremely large red arm resting on some cushions...
Then you released it, inexplicably. The obese girth swung upwards, hitting the red pony squarely in the chest, creating a hollow wet slap. The weight kept it glued there, where a reflexive twitch prompted some pre leaked out and matted his fur. Big Mac jumped in slight surprise, and simply stared at you thereafter, visibly perturbed.
“Did that hurt?” you asked.
He blinked. “Uh… kinda?”
“Huh…”
“Why did ya ask me tha-aaa,” he trailed off as your hand found its place on his cock once more.
You clumsily tried to wrap your hand around the base. You noticed smaller details now that you were properly acquainted. One such detail was below the plump medial ring. It was a prominent vein that ran slightly from where the hilt unfolded from the sheath and just below the sensitive ring that covered the circumference. You hoped to become more familiar with such a revere-worthy tool as the night progressed. As you tried to pull it back towards you, your fingers brushing against the flesh evoked a throb that caught you by surprise. It was so mighty, that you didn’t need to assist it. The sight was similar to a giant red tree that was felled to land atop you.
Majestic.
It was now in the exact position it was before you tested out your hypothesis, and now similar to your 'handsy' trek with his immense sack, you set about satisfying your curious itch; ignoring the heat between your legs, your growing wetness. Your hands pressed into either side of Big Mac’s boner, gliding your hands down the length. The skin was rough, and its hardness was comparable to solid rock. You heard a small gasp from the stallion when your fingers pressed into the plump ring that was a quarter way down his shaft... It must have been sensitive….
Your lips curved into a sultry simper.
You glanced up to Big Mac’s face. The stallion was looking back. You paid close attention as your hands coiled around either side of his dick, and you squeezed down towards the hilt. You watched the stallion’s mouth as it well open to moan, your palm gliding over the fat medial ring. You yourself gasped when you felt it twitch, and throb, the pulsation accompanying a fat glob of precum fell from the crown that hung over you. You felt the warm, wet and sticky substance land on your shoulder; your chest pressed into the bed to get adequate purchase on the stallion’s dick.
You released his cock, reluctantly, to deal with the mess. You used your already pre stained hand to wipe off the large viscous patch. You rubbed the substance between your fingers, the clear secretion looking was slimy and had no friction. You brought it to your nose, inhaling it. The scent was overpowering. It was as though the musky aroma of his virility and masculinity was condensed into a single clear substance that you had directly on… your… hand. Sigh.
Lick.
“Oh, God,” you muttered under your breath. You immediately felt like a freak, because you couldn’t even deny how much you liked it. It was one hundred percent Big Macintosh, condescended into a liquid that could dribble from his cock. Having already passed the point of no return, you dragged your tongue up and down your hand and fingers, making sure you swallow down every bit of the clear ooze that covered them.
Splat.
You blinked, looking at your pre-stained shoulder, a fresh new coating of Big Mac’s viscous juice right where the last drop landed. You looked to Big Mac, he was panting, watching you closely as you ravenously suckled down his essence. An idea formed in your head. Why wait for it to come to you, when you can drink it directly from the source?
Your spit and pre covered hand gripped the stallion’s head as you first done before, and you brought it downwards, only this time, you wouldn’t be letting it go. You angled it downwards, and slowly inched your mouth forwards. You closed your eyes, but knew already how close you were from the smell alone. Your free hand, dry of pre, pressed into his meat, and you parted your mouth…
“Mmph!” Big Mac grunted out a pleasured noise, as your wet, moist, organ pressed against urethra; the indent a perfect fit for your tongue to press into.
Your eyes closed when the first fat droplet landed on your tongue. The salty taste was delectable, and you needed more. Your hands began to pump the shaft, gliding down to provoke pleasure in the stallion but squeezing upwards entirely for you; trying to milk out more of Big Mac’s delectable cock nectar. Your tongue lapped slowly at the cap.
Feeling it throbbing against your touch delighted you, and hearing the stallion of the centre of your affection moan prompted you to coo, to hasten your licks and strokes. You attempted to part your jaw, to take him in past your lips, but much to your regret, he was simply too big. That fact caused your pussy to clench instinctively, trying to grip around a phantom intruder. You didn’t know why… perhaps you were a masochist? You would have been content to suckle on his length all night long but the gnawing need at the junction of your thighs was becoming too ‘loud’ to ignore.
You tore your lips and hands away and Big Mac’s fetlocks curled in delight. With your chest rising and falling fast, you looked up at his face; the stallion just as breathless as you were; a sweat on his “Your turn.”
“My turn? My turn,” he repeated, giving you several determined nods as his nostrils flared. No doubt, he was burning alive with his own lust. If that was the case, then you were in the eye of a fiery hurricane. You felt immolated. You needed something. Anything. Now.
You climbed onto the bed, he moved to follow. He clambered back onto his belly, dragging himself up the bed as you assume your position… you’d have to clean the sheets of pre later. Your back was pushed against the headboard, your buttocks on your pillow. Don’t worry, you haven’t pooped once since you got here. Your legs were opened wide, inviting Big Mac to ‘explore’ you as you did him.
“It’s beautiful,” he commented, crawling closer. You were too aroused to be bashful anymore, even at how much Big Mac was taken with you. He approached your labia and pussy as you did his cock and balls: with a fevorous lust-crazed curiosity. His hooves touched against your inner thighs, the contact sent static waves of excitable energy throughout you. You felt his breath against your treasure, the warm air just hammering home how close this stallion was to you.
You gasped when the tip of his hoof pressed into one of your plump lips, provoking you into blissful shivers. He spread you, exposing your tender pinkness to his eyes, your own cheeks burned at the thought of being so exposed. Then, he kissed you. It. Right on your little love button. You felt your hips raise on reflex, your body trying to chase those tender lips. But Big Mac had something much better in mind.
That tongue. The large one, which would barely fit into your mouth, passed through his opened lips, and was dragged up your cunt from bottom to clit…
“Fuck…” you mumbled your curse through clenched jaw, your toes curling as that big tongue pleasured you in an even bigger way. It covered your spread pussy from labia to labia, the slimy muscle was unlike anything you had felt before. Pleasured shivers wracked you, and when you instinctively tried to clamp your thighs around that stallion’s head, your body wanting more, his elbows kept your legs apart.
He was in control.
His tongue continued its pleasurable drag up and down your slit. He didn’t put any flair on it, but he didn’t need to. He continued to eat you, to lick you, as if he were a carnivore and you were a meat popsicle. The way its tip passed over your nub provoked a pleasured cry from your throat, his tongue increasing it pressure steadily, building up towards something you hadn’t the faintest idea of… yet.
You threw your hand to his head as your back arched, releasing a scream of ecstasy. You felt his tongue push past your folds and lodge itself within you. The wiggling intruder spread you further apart than any finger, any dildo, lodging deep within you and swirling. Your own feminine honey stained his muzzle as he brought you to the brink of rapture. It was so big, that it naturally just pushed against your g-spot, and his oral ministrations were so fantastic you felt on the verge on a religious experience. Thankfully, instead of wanting rever Big Mac as a deity, you did want something else from him.
“Please, I can’t take it anymore,” you told him, breathless, in passion’s throes. “I want you,” you told him. But that was a lie…
You needed him.
Big Mac pulled away, his tongue flicking over his strained lip, your juices matting down the fur on his muzzle. His breaths were shallow, and as you laid down, he climbed up, until his chest was pushed against your own; staring eye to eye. Your arms wrapped around his back, your fingers pressing into his coat, bracing yourself. You felt his prick prod against your labia, the wide flat crown of his cock was warm, and you released a gasp when he pushed against your hole, trying to ease himself into you.
He must have seen something in your expression, and he frowned slightly. “If ah’m too… large, we can do somethin’ else-”
You silenced his concern with a kiss. He closed his eyes and leaned into you, and again you batted tongues together, engaging in a display of impassioned kissing. You were truthful about what you said. You wanted him. All of him. From his soft lips and big tongue - both of which you could taste yourself on - to his strong muscled back, his powerful thighs, his roiling fat sack and his massive thick dick. You just hoped your poor cunny would forgive you for the strain.
Your stomach hardened as your body braced. Big Mac was gentle, to his credit, but he was trying to fit a plantain into a hole really meant for a banana. You released a pained groan when you finally felt your lips spread apart under his flare’s pushing. You quivered when the first fat inch entered you; your honeypot already feeling stretched to capacity, making you feel like an overstretched rubber band. You felt it every single inch of his rod as it slowly slid within you. He paused every single time you released your breath hitched, your pained gasps eliciting worried questions from him. You had to assure him every single time, but you were thankful for his pauses, which allowed you to get used to his incredible size somewhat.
Finally, after what was an arduously long process on your end, he stopped; hitting your cervix. You could feel every single inch as it throbbed within you. Twitching, pulsating, only a thin barrier blocking it from entering your womb. Big Mac broke the kiss, and raised himself slightly, allowing you to look down in utter disbelief at the sight before you. He wasn’t entirely embedded within your cunt - a feat you doubted was possible - but he still got a shocking amount of himself inside of you. You were only a few inches away from enveloping his medial ring, and you could physically see his wide unmistakable flare creating a bulge in your belly. You unwrapped a hand from his back, tentatively approaching the rise in your stomach. You tried rubbing your thumb over it, feeling its hardness through out own skin; releasing a surreal gasp when it throbbed back against your touch, your pussy clenched around him when it did. It was a wonderful feeling.
“I feel stuffed,” you said, breathing heavily.
“Ya kinda are,” Big Mac retorted, releasing a heavy chuckle. At it, you seized up, and he stopped immediately. “What? You hurtin’?”
“N-no. Just then, when you laughed,” you answered, flustered, “it was like miniature vibrations were going through your… you know.”
“Ah…” he replied, then looked away, considering. “Should ah… laugh during?”
You were about to reply, but stopped yourself, pondering. It did feel good, maybe… no? No. No… “It’d be a bit weird,” you answered, not sounding all that sure. You smiled flirtatiously, putting your arm back around his back to join the other. “Just take me. Take me like a stallion takes a mare.”
“Ah will,” he replied in his charming drawl, leaning closer. And he whispered something in your ear, something that made your fingers dig into him, releasing a blissful gasp. “My mare.”
With that he reconnected your lips, just as you let out a moan. His enormous girth began to drag up the rest of your canal. His flare scraped your walls pleasurably, and the experience was like a roller-coaster - falling down a steep slope, where what awaited you at the bottom were the arms of rapture. You felt as his cock head tugged against your tight walls. His dick was so big it was essentially plugged within you, and nothing aroused you more. Then, finally, after what felt like a lifetime.
Thrust!
“Ouch!” you gasped, feeling the rod ram against your cervix. The shock of it was what provoked pain, but right after it seamlessly blending together pleasure. Big Mac stopped, concern on his face, but you only gave him a slight nod to continue.
He pulled out slowly, like before, and when you felt his dick tugging at your entrance, he slammed right back in. That was his adopted rhythm, and you adored it. Each thrust was like a slow burn that exploded into fiery blast. His jumbo sack smacked against your ass every time, the heavy churning balls so full that you were almost eager for him to fill you up. To turn your womb into a makeshift jizz tank… what the fuck is wrong with you?
Ignoring your own depraved thoughts you tightened your embrace around his back, so that you could press his chest against yours - heartbeat to heartbeat, feeling his warmth... There we go. That’s more wholesome!
The longer the sex went on for, the less recognisable Big Mac’s rhythm became. The slow retreat fastened, and soon his member rammed into you at a speed you didn’t expect such a huge stallion would be capable of. You held onto him less in the form of a hug, but as a way to brace yourself. You felt yourself sweat from the exertion of taking such a large thing in and out of you so quickly, but with every lancing penetration, you released a gasp of ecstasy. This occurred so frequently that you felt light headed, perpetually out of breath. It was as though his cock knocked the breath right out of your lungs.
As you felt his cock swell, becoming even thicker, you immediately knew what this meant. You wrapped your legs around his back, your own pussy doing contractions around his dick, your own orgasm at the cusp of rocking you. You wanted to scream out something cliche. ‘Fill me.’ ‘I want it all.’ ‘Give me your seed.’ But the starting syllable was lost in your throat, substituted with a loud moan or groan as you felt that flare expand within you, clogging your velvety love canal.
Then it happened.
A tidal wave, a white sticky gush of stallion semen flooded your womb. Big Mac seized up, his muscled thighs clenched into your sides as he came, and you could feel his power in every facet of him at that moment. Your fingers dug into his back as you felt his batter fill you, your entire body shaking as your own orgasm coincided with his. The way his stallionhood swelled as it hosed your insides was pure bliss. Your stomach swelled as every single ounce of his warm cum flooded into you, painting the walls of your womb and spilling out into your canal, and you could feel the warm gooey liquid trickle down your cunt and onto the sheets - you were beyond caring about their cleanliness at this point.
When you both landed gracefully into the afterglow, your legs and arms unfurling from around him as your body went limp, he rolled off of you and onto his side. You looked to your side, and found him already staring back at you. He looked tired, and his fur was matted with sweat - the smell heavy in the air. You were in much if not the exact state as he was. You feel the mournfully empty pussy ache, yet it was a pleasurable one, one of thorough satisfaction. You didn’t look, but you feel everything that was going on down there. Besides sweat, your thighs were plastered with his semen, and his seed continued to dribble out from your excessively filled womb. You were positively full.
Yet, despite the fatigue, you did summon enough strength to roll onto your side, throwing your arm over him. He did the same, yet had enough strength within him to pull you closer on top of that. You should’ve felt grossed out by feeling your bare stomach and chest pressed against a sweaty furry chest, but you didn’t. Because it was Big Mac’s furry and sweaty chest. You gave him a goofy smile, and then he kissed it.
He said something to you then.
Three syllables.
You replied with four.
Then, you both fell asleep in each other’s arms, satisfied, and utterly contented…
A belly full of pony cum wouldn’t impregnate you, would it?
Author's Note
Originally this contained more 'muscle girl' elements, and some stuff with sweat. Remnants of these exist but I decided against them partway through the process. Anywho, I hope you enjoyed this fic. Leave a like if you liked, leave a dislike if you disliked (I do appreciate critique), so, onto other projects. Adiós!
Sorry for my absence. I will try to finish all my incomplete things and then go onto new and exciting stories. Ciao. Also, if you have a request, just consult my latest blogpost. One per person, for the time being.