I did not see that coming!

Chapters

Rounding up her captive
Evaluating her specimen
Creating the uberponer
Giving her some good genetics
It was really only Aaron who did not see it coming... you knew!

Rounding up her captive

Author's Note

This fic was my submission to the anti-censorship art pack
Marenheit 451

I thought I could do some good by posting my fic here to drive more attention to the pack, which might not be well known about on this site.

Please click [edited out due to nsfw content] to go to the pack and support artistic freedom in our community with a small donation. Proceeds go toward Days End Farm Horse Rescue in support of real world horsies.

I know that this is a controversial issue, and very close to the heart for many of you who might disagree. I ask that you please remain civil, and bring discussion on this issue to my blog post, and leave comments on the story related to the story.

Thanks!

Rounding up her captive

She was nice.

Cute, even.

At least, that’s what I thought when I first met her.

Beautiful blonde hair, golden locks that spilled down her back — when it wasn’t twisted into a set of braided loops — eyes that were as blue as glaciers, and a body that completed the look of a slender bavarian milk-maid.

The fact that she wore a simple dress with a dirndl, complete with apron and lace took it a step further. When I first saw her, I literally thought she had wandered off the set of a ‘Sound of Music’ musical.

Somehow, I’d mustered up the courage to chat with her. No small feat for a social introvert like myself. School had always been a place to get in and out of as quickly as possible, sponging up as much information on tap then making for the exits. Sports and computer games were more my thing, places with rules and goals for how people interacted.

The strange interaction of people, chatting in hallways, or lecture rooms always puzzled and stressed me out: how to start a conversation, how to feign interest in another person that I really cared nothing about. Unlike games, the goal of social interaction was not explicit. All these beautiful and social people were getting together for one ultimate reason.

To fuck.

Sure, that might have been a bit of a cynical view, but it was apparent. The googly eyes of beautiful people, the cheery smiles as males and females pretended to be interested in what the other was saying. The way successful social butterflies touched and held each other.

Not that I’m angry about it.

I’m jealous.

I hadn’t expected to still be a kissless virgin by this point in my life, and I could already see the grains of sand falling into place on the hourglass of my life. Each passing day seemed to make me more of a curmudgeon, more of a loner. But I just found it so hard to talk to girls!

Except her.

Aryanne.

It was weird, she just seemed so different. My anxiety and natural standoffish-ness around regular girls just didn’t arise when I first met her in a hallway as she struggled to locate herself on campus. It was almost like she wasn’t even a human female, more like an android in disguise.

We’d hit it off so quickly it surprised even me. Falling into a happy, cheerful discussion as if we were old friends. It was almost like she had some magical friendship energy.

It wasn’t long before I started looking at her with more lascivious eyes and harboring still more lascivious intentions.

Oh sure, some other people around campus gave me some warnings. Telling me that she was weird, that she was always saying things that were really inappropriate, about superiority and master plans for people. Worse still was the disturbing amount of hours she put into playing Hearts of Iron IV. I mean what girl does that?

A few even went so far as to tell me I was hanging out with a Nazi.

Now, I had taken this little warning with a grain of salt. These days, around campus, it seemed like everything and anything had something to do with the Third Reich. At least if you were to believe the incredibly vocal minority of people that poured out of the more ‘nuanced’ — read: useless — social humanities and arts classes.

Over the last month alone, there had been a petition to disband the chess club because it was inherently racist to give the white pieces the advantage of the first move. When the club had foolishly tried to placate the demand by stating that the queen was the most powerful piece in the game, the whole group had been denounced as a den of goose-stepping monsters.

I had even caught some denunciation myself. In speaking with another student a little too loudly about my favorite faction to play as in a popular online tank game, I’d made the mistake of pronouncing the word ‘Königstiger’ a bit too accurately while discussing the merits of the Panzerkampfwagen Tiger Ausf. B with its eighty-eight millimeters of sound and fury. A bystander had quickly given me the evil eye and asked me why I wanted to play as a Nazi.

My somewhat bemused reaction that the Germans had more than a few good ideas when it came to the development of armored fighting vehicles drew me no goodwill at all. ‘So you really are a Nazi sympathizer then! Get out of here, Nazi scum!’

The memory of those words still made my heart rise a few beats in anger.

Nevermind the fact that my great-grandmother had a numbered tattoo on her arm and was one of the very lucky few to escape Treblinka.

But it was nothing compared to what Aryanne endured. Hisses, people screaming at her from across the grounds, spitting at her, in some cases trying to entice her to fight. And it wasn’t like any of those people were complaining about the blonde-haired girl’s stance against gun-ownership, or for state-control of production objectives, or for a state-operated daycare and health system.

That being said, I did have some lingering suspicions about Aryanne’s views.

When she would get going, especially over a stein of beer at one of the student bars after class, some of the things she would say were outright… troubling.

Separating people by class and culture… and race. ‘Dealing with’ dissidents and bringing them and their antics to a crushing stop under a jackboot. Creating lebensraum, ‘living space’ for people ‘like her’, even if that meant taking from others. And most troubling of all, questioning whether the value of human life really was equal across all people, even going so far as to ask if invalids and ‘undesirables’ deserved to ‘pull down’ the rest of civil society with them.

So, admittedly, it wasn’t entirely implausible that she could be, y’know, a fascist.

But fascists do these things. Idiots and misguided people say them. At this point, I thought she was simply one of the latter. It wasn’t like she was doing anything other than talking.

Maybe I could change her, show her a better path, teach her about the ‘American Way’; freedom, individual rights, equality before the law, peace, and all that. However she’d been raised, it certainly wasn’t the way I’d been brought up or anyone else I knew either.

Still, I had to admit it. I was pretty caught up in the fact that such a beautiful girl was actually showing interest in me, hanging out with me.

Whoever said ‘don’t stick your dick in crazy’ was obviously getting more sex than me, a 22-year old, kissless virgin.

Sorry, great-grandma… at least I can promise you if I’m lucky enough to take this girl home I’ll do my very best to ream her possibly-Nazi ass with my fat, Jewish kishka. There’s got to be some cosmic justice in that, right?

Ok, that sounds weak even to me, but I was horny, all right?

It wasn’t like it was going to happen anyway. Or so I thought. Like most of the abortive, half-friend, half-’potentially romantically interested’ relationships I’d ever managed to initiate, this too would surely end in nothing more than diminishing interest and yet another contact on my phone, never to be messaged again.

Imagine my surprise when, having drained the last of her stein, she grabbed my wrist with her hand clumsily, as if she barely knew how to work her fingers, staring up at me with those big, blue, earnest eyes.

“Herr Weisenstein,” she declared in an unnaturally formal tone.

I gave her a curious expression at first, the hardness in her voice catching me momentarily off-guard. I’d gotten used to her, though. For all the time we’d known each other, she’d often taken a tone I found inappropriate to the circumstances. More than once I’d considered that our socially awkward instincts and tendencies made us kindred spirits. Either that or I was just the luckiest guy on campus. Probably more the latter, honestly.

“Please, call me Aaron, Aryanne. We’ve known each other for weeks now.”

Aryanne smiled and took me by the hand, her freckled, button nose crinkling in a wholesome and endearing way that brought a surge of hot blood to my nether regions. “Aaron… mein stallion, I think it is time for me to take you back to mein place.”

I still remember how hard my heart pounded in my chest, the rush of adrenaline, excitement, and sheer terror overflowing at the sudden possibilities flowing through my very active imagination. While I hadn’t exactly been training my entire life for a moment I’d expected never to come, I knew I had to say something clever right then. Something to really impress upon her the quality of the goods she was bringing home.

“W-wha?”

Smooth, Aaron. She’ll be dropping you off in the nearest convenient dumpster!

“I haff been gauging you, and I believe you are ze right pony for vaht I have in mind. Come, valk vith me now.” Sometimes she still mixed up her words.

What can I say? The girl had a way with words and I had a way of doing whatever she asked. Call it charm. Call it guile. Call it her sheer Teutonic magnetism but I gave a knowing nod, asked no questions, and marched — Eins, zwei! Eins, zwei! — back to her residence at flank speed.

Evaluating her specimen

Author's Note

This fic was my submission to the anti-censorship art pack
Marenheit 451

I thought I could do some good by posting my fic here to drive more attention to the pack, which might not be well known about on this site.

Please click here to go to the pack and support artistic freedom in our community with a small donation. Proceeds go toward Days End Farm Horse Rescue in support of real world horsies.

Thanks!

Evaluating her specimen

My heart was racing faster than the pistons of an F1 engine as Aryanne began opening the door to her apartment. It was still hard for me to process what was actually happening, and what could potentially still happen. I was thanking God for the liquid courage in my belly that was quelling my fear that I would fumble something up or make a fool of myself.

“Come in, come in.” Aryanne smiled kindly, pulling me into her place properly as I’d been dithering in the doorway, waiting on my lady’s permission.

It was a small apartment, only two rooms. The larger was the dining, kitchen, living room all in one, with only a very small kitchen counter separating the meager kitchen from a small table and a modest couch.

Immediately I was struck by how orderly everything in the apartment was. A small vase of flowers, trimmed and watered neatly. A set of kitchen knives hanging on the wall behind her stovetop, ordered by rank and size, perfectly aligned to square angles. Every surface sparkling clean.

Girls really did keep their places cleaner, it seemed.

My eyes were drawn from the neatly kept kitchen to a large banner dominating the wall in front of her computer desk from which she no doubt had her way with the Soviet Union many times as Fuhrer of the Third Hearts of Iron Reich. featured a black bird atop a symbol I recognized as the German Iron Cross medal decorated with many small crowns on each corner. The cross itself was emblazed with the motto, ‘Gott mit uns 1870’, a reference to the formation of the Second Reich under Otto von Bismarck.

Gott mit uns… I knew that motto very well and it brought back many chilling memories of the horrors of World War Two and the army that had taken this slogan, originally coined by a Swede seeking to reform Christianity in Europe, to justify wholesale slaughter in the name of racial supremacy.

But I didn’t have much time to mull over Aryanne’s motives for hanging the banner there and could at least appreciate the fact she hadn’t gone the completely stereotypical route of hanging a giant swastika to her wall. Maybe she just enjoyed the iconography…

Yeah, that was bullshit but I had no time to dwell on it. Aryanne had not relinquished control of my hand and continued pulling me along.

“Come, come!” She grinned, “Here, into my room.”

Holy shit, this is happening.

We weren’t going to sit on the couch and chat. We were actually doing this.

“Uh, Aryanne… I don’t know how to tell you this.” I began to mumble, regretting the words even as they spilled out of my mouth, wishing I could bite my tongue to shut myself up. But I had to let her know, right? I couldn’t just hope that somehow I would squeak by and have my awkwardness completely exposed. “B-but… I’ve never done this before.”

Aryanne paused, then flashed me the sweetest smile of our acquaintance to date. “Aaron, of course, you haven’t. Even I have not done zis yet either, in zis world.”

That’s a relief, I mused to myself. Though it was almost unbelievable, a beautiful girl like that?

“Now, don’t vorry.” She patted her immaculately made bed with a hand clearly directing me where to sit, before finally releasing mine and turning to a nearby closet and beginning to poke around inside it. “Ve vill take things slow.”

I sat down and let out a nervously held breath. Slow was good. Slow was safe.

Then my eyes traced back over Aryanne as she was bent over, rooting through the back of her closet in her dirndl. The way her tight dress hugged the corners of her pert, athletic buttocks made my pulse begin to quicken again. Of course, I’d stolen glances at her backside before, but now, with it right in my face like this — knowing what was about to come...

I was getting a bit excited. Especially excited. My pants were beginning to feel quite tight, in other words. I shifted myself slightly, letting the ‘expanding’ parts of my body escape down one side of my pant leg.

I never would have thought the sight of a clothed female butt could actually give me the hardest erection of my entire life.

“Ah, here it iz. Right vere I left it!” Aryanne turned around with a smile, holding up what looked like some strange glass and gold flask, with a strange syrupy looking purple liquid inside. Her eyes switched from the flask to me, and her smile turned to a frown.

“Vhy are you still dressed? If you don’t remove your clothes zey vill be torn!” She harumphed, putting her hands on her hips.

“W-what?” I nearly choked. I guess Aryanne had a different definition of ‘taking it slow’.

“Come on! Come on!” She urged. “Ze authorities could notice I haff taken you at any moment!”

The authorities? The hell was she raving about? But I didn’t have much of an opportunity to puzzle over what that meant, as Aryanne clunked the flask onto her bedside table and reached over to my pants.

I’d never had a girl grab at my crotch before and certainly not with this much insistence. Her slender fingers hooked into the waistband of my jeans, jerking downward with frustration to try to tear off my bottoms.

“So many layers of useless things in this world,” She muttered to herself, her fingers fumbling and struggling with my belt buckle and fly.

My mind singularly on the task at hand, I’d let her strange remark pass without notice. “I… I got it.” I offered hurriedly, standing up to quickly unbuckle myself and unzip my fly. “J-just hang on a…”

There was no hanging on. Aryanne’s fingers quickly hooked into the waistband of both my underpants and my jeans. With a solid tug downward she jerked them down to around my knees.

‘Little Aaron’ had made his appearance into the world.

Alright, maybe not so little.

If there was one thing that I didn’t have any anxiety about, it was my size. Not that I’d measured or anything but… I totally did measure and my ruler had a number of tick marks just past the nine-inch mark.

If anything, I was worried that it might be a bit too intimidating. My kishka was as round, firm, and fully-packed as it was long.

My chest puffed up a little bit as I saw Aryanne’s expression tilt and her head shift back slightly in surprise. It had obviously not been what she was expecting. Well, at least I could be satisfied that even if its performance didn’t impress her, at least its appearance would give her a bit of a —

“Zey really are quite smaller over here, aren’t zey?”

Crushed.

Absolutely devastated.

Aryanne was looking at my junk like a girl looks at a cute, defenseless puppy. A tiny, pitiful thing you’d talk to like an infant child.

Just where did she come from? I was like, three standard deviations above the average size! And yes I know I’m a nerd for caring about dick statistics.

“Even ze testicles are like little chicken’s eggs!” She giggled, slipping her hand under my junk, and cupping my sack. “Zo cute!”

All demeaning and accidentally emasculating discussion of my pride was forgiven at the warm touch of her hands to my balls.

A girl is touching me! Holy shit!

She took hold with a firm squeeze, almost like a farmhand evaluating livestock, rolling my coinpurse around in her palm as she inspected. Impossibly, I found myself being turned on even more at the idea of being evaluated like cattle!

“Yes, both are zere and fully descended. Gut!” She gave me a pat then slid her delicate slender fingers upwards. Their cold, soft tips felt almost alien sliding across the burning, smooth heat of my throbbing shaft.

As they reached the end of my length, they circled the underside of my glans, the sharpness of Aryanne’s fingernails tracing a delicate circle around the underside of my head, making the whole of my masculine pride jump and twitch in involuntary sensory overload.

“Yes, shaped like a mushroom, just like ze research said. Interesting.” Aryanne’s gentle giggle accompanied her glowing eyes as they shifted focus from the organ in her hands back to my face. I felt a light tug downwards on the shaft of my skin and watched as that smile suddenly fell. Her fingers began to dig into the shaft skin beneath my head more insistently, pressing and pulling, as if searching for something.

“Vat’s ‘zis? You are missing somethink!” Aryanne’s face looked disappointed, almost panicked. “Mein study of ze human anatomy said males haff a covering, a flap, even ven ze male is fully erect!”

I could only meet Aryanne’s suspicious and deepening scowl with a look of sheer incomprehension. In my defense, it was a little hard for my brain to function at the same time I was receiving the weirdest, and first, handjob of my life. I was trying to keep up with the joy of being touched, and trying to suppress the feeling that I was being inspected like cattle. What Aryanne said next didn’t help to dispel the latter notion.

“Aaron. Ver you born viss a genetic deformity? You must tell me, I do not vant you to fail ze inspection.”

Inspection? I thought this was sex?

“Uh… no?” The words bumbled out of my lips.

“Zen vhere is your foreskin?” Aryanne huffed, her frown deepening.

“Uh, I’m cut.” Seeing her lack of comprehension, I continued. “Circumcised? The foreskin is uh, trimmed off at birth.”

“Not a deformity, zen!” Aryanne’s face brightened, the worry falling from her face. “But vhy ze cutting? I haff not heard of zis practice?”

“I guess I’ve heard it’s less common overseas than it is in the States. Honestly, I get it, I think it’s a little barbaric to take such an important part of a boy’s body away from them when they're still a baby… but for me, it’s a cultural thing… I’m Jewish.”

“J-Jewish?”

Oh boy. Here we go. I mentally slapped myself for letting the secret drop. If Aryanne really was a Nazi, I’d be lucky to escape her apartment with my clothes, dodging blows and shrieks… I could wave good-bye to any chance at punching my v-card.

“Vat iz… Jewish?”

Huh, well… guess she’s NOT a Nazi then, just a really big wehraboo.

“Pretty surprised that you’ve not heard of them… it’s a religion. Suffice it to say one of our practices is circumcision.” At this I let my hands guide hers back to the spot on my shaft where the scar could still faintly be made out. Let me just say here that it took all of my mental fortitude not to issue a squeal of delight at the fact I was holding a girl’s hands against my dick. “Which is why I don’t have my foreskin, not because of any deformity.”

I smiled, enjoying the moment of intimacy, my hands covering hers as they rubbed my cock.

“Gut!” Aryanne’s hands quickly pulled off of my cock as she turned away from me, her ‘inspection’ obviously completed.

I frowned, my dick suddenly feeling quite lonely.

“You haff passed ze inspection, Aaron. A prime candidate for ze trial.” Aryanne swung the flask into my hand.

I’d already had something to drink that night and I wasn’t feeling particularly thirsty, particularly given the increasing suspicious circumstances surrounding the Allemagne aficionado. “What? What do I do with th-”

“Drink.” Her voice barked the imperious command, her tone clearly indicating that it would brook no resistance.

I swirled the syrupy thick fluid in the flask, clearly aware that it had come out of the back of her closet, and not from a fridge or a wine rack. It smelled awful too.

“Aryanne, seriously, what is this?” I peered down at it, my eyes almost sure that they had seen the liquid within leap and froth in a physically impossible way for a moment.

“Aaron, zis will make you better, strongker, an übermensch, ze pony you vere meant to be.”

So it’s some kind of sexual stamina thing, then? Well heck, who doesn’t want the stamina of a horse! Hmm... My mind retraced some of the horror stories I’ve heard of gas-station ‘enhancers’ and cheap medicine ordered over the internet from China. Oftentimes these things were laced with amphetamines and cut with dangerous other chemicals.

Or it could just be one of those ‘all-natural’ ones, a harmless placebo with irrelevant natural ingredients that did little.

My eyes glanced from the troubling brew back to the hopeful, gleaming eyes of the clean-cut girl standing before me. She was definitely not the type who would allow for illegal drugs. It had to be the latter.

It might have been one of the stupider things I was about to do, but if it gave me even a shot at sex.

Bottom’s up!

The potion tasted as bad as it smelled. I had to fight back the urge to gag as the gross liquid bubbled down my throat, coating my insides as it went. I could tell from the way Aryanne was nodding and motioning with her hands that no mere sip was going to suffice — I had to down the whole thing.

Somehow, I managed. Sex sure was one hell of a motivator. I did my best to place the flask on the nightstand, suppressing the bubbling belch in my gut that I was sure could quickly turn into a full rejection by my body of the vile brew. I was pretty sure that projectile vomiting on Aryanne’s bed would be a turn-off for her — she didn’t seem like a girl into that sort of fetish or any fetish outside of maybe getting a dominatrix.

I noticed Aryanne looking at me expectantly, not moving, a small shake of excited energy vibrating through her limbs. An awkward moment passed, with her saying nothing, just watching naked old me as I sat on her bed, awkward boner in hand.

“Uh… so… what now?” I bumbled out. I knew I was a novice at sex, but I was pretty sure there was something more to it than just staring at each other.

“Now ve vait for ze potion to take effect, ve haff never actually used it on a human, so ze time it takes to activate eez not known.”

“What?” My mind blanked, a bit of panic in my own chest starting to rise. “You made the potion?” Aryanne didn’t strike me as a chemistry major, and I was very suddenly wondering if I should be googling the poison control hotline.

“Oh no no no, I did not make eet!” She giggled.

Phew. She wasn't crazy!

“Franziska, ze head of our research division, did. She assures me ze fatality rate vould be very low.”

Fuck.

Creating the uberponer

Author's Note

This fic was my submission to the anti-censorship art pack
Marenheit 451

I thought I could do some good by posting my fic here to drive more attention to the pack, which might not be well known about on this site.

Please click here to go to the pack and support artistic freedom in our community with a small donation. Proceeds go toward Days End Farm Horse Rescue in support of real world horsies.

Thanks!

Creating the uberponer

Fuck. Fuck! FUUUCK!

“WHAT!?” I stood up. “What did I just drink, Aryanne?” I began to notice just how tingly all my muscles were feeling, little pinpricks of energy surging down each of my nerves, a cold sweat breaking out over me.

“A magical transformation potion, zat vill turn you from a man into a pony… into a superior race!” Aryanne chuckled as if this were the most obvious answer in the world.

Oh, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. She’s absolutely fucking crazy and I drank some weird-ass poison she gave me! My hands reached for the phone in my pants pocket, discarded on the ground, but the shaking in my arms was so bad now I could barely move them.

“H-help… I’m… I’m gonna die.” I choked out, feeling a sudden warmth spreading from deep inside my gut, my throat constricting as my eyes began to blur.

“No no no! Like I said, ze likelihood of fatality is quite low, at least for ponies like me. A natural human, it eez a bit higher, ein out of drei, Franziska says. But zere are plenty of humans! Do not vorry.”

A sickening shudder wracked my body, and I suddenly found myself unable to move any muscle. It was like I was trapped behind my eyes, a silent prisoner to whatever poison had paralyzed my system. That’s when, to my surprise, my body actually did begin to change. I could feel a burning heat flush out from my gut, and the first place it’d spilled to, likely because of all the blood that had been rushing there moments earlier, was my groin.

The very familiar sight of my male pride suddenly began to morph before my very eyes. First, a swelling throb that made it strain against the very confines of the pink skin. Then, that pinkness began to grow darker, a nasty shade of purple. Combined with the swelling, I looked like I was suffering the consequence of having tried to make love to a wasp’s nest.

Then I suddenly felt my testicles bulge, first the left, then the right. Popping from their normal egg-size to that of an orange. My poor sack felt like it was about to tear, as the normally wrinkly skin was pulled as taut as the surface of a balloon in its attempt to contain the massive sexual organs within. Half a moment later, the sack descended, falling halfway to my knee and dangling off the edge of Aryanne’s bed as the skin turned a striking shade of midnight black.

I barely had time to marvel at my huge new coin-purse, as a powerful throb made my manhood strain upwards… and outwards.

To my shock, each beat of my heart was adding inches to my length, as my member grew impossibly, pump by pump, the gravity of its new bulk, and the leverage of its new length causing it to dip toward the floor.

The darkening purplish-black thing had to be over a foot long now!

It was getting thicker too, new veins bulging and boiling out of its surface, including a small wrinkle of flesh just under the head, at first just a little bump, but one that quickly stiffened and raised onto what I could only describe as a ring of meat.

“Ohn… f-fuck…” The words felt strange in my mouth like my tongue wasn’t shaped the right way. But I had to utter it — the moment that ring finished forming, my already massive genitals began to spill outwards.

Like a waterfall of cockflesh, the now black penis-meat poured from under the new medial ring that had appeared on my shaft… three, four, five… eight inches of new shaft as my huge new beast drooped toward the floor, well past my knees.

And it was growing in girth as much as it was in length. I’d hear the phrase ‘a baby’s arm holding an apple’ and laughed in disbelief, but this was more like a man’s arm! Closer to my body, the base of the throbbing cock required to maintain such a fearsome length was quickly approaching trunk-like proportions.

“Mein Celestia, you vill be hung,” Aryanne half-whispered, her eyes twinkling with excitement as she watched my penile transformation. Her eyes flashed even wider as my mushroom-shaped tip throbbed with a few last pulsing throbs, flattening and thickening to the size of a fist-wide saucer plate, complete with knobby protuberances and a urethral opening as large as a milkshake-straw. “Very hung.” I thought I might have noticed her biting her lower lip.

I didn’t have time to think about just how excessive a size queen Aryanne truly was: pain I could only describe as searing filled my mind with white-hot stabs of agony. It was like every bone in my body was breaking and re-knitting simultaneously. I could feel my joints cracking and crushing, some breaking backward, others binding together.

My organs were a hot stew of churning heat like someone had stuck a blender into my thoracic cavity and hit ‘puree’.

I could hear my own skull cracking. Not a sound I would recommend for anyone’s playlist.

At some point, whatever bundle of neurons was responsible for consciousness and sensation mercifully shorted out.

I welcomed the tunnel of blackness and certain death as it crept up from the corners of my eyes… the last thing I could see was Aryanne’s face soaring to what I could only describe as euphoric heights.

My eyes snapped open again.

Blackness, still. Only sensation.

Everything was wrong.

All the feelings in my body were totally off, every movement and sensation a new neural pathway, hitherto unused. It was like the entire wiring of my brain had been returned to factory default settings…

And I couldn’t move my arms or legs. My knees felt all wrong, and for some reason, my fingers felt numb, unresponsive, like they weren’t even there. But at least I could tell that I was tied up.

“Ah! You are alive, Aaron?” Aryanne’s voice echoed through my ears. “Thank ze Goddess, I von’t have to burn troo anuzzer vun! Ze forms I haff to fill out, you vould not believe!”

So I guess I wasn’t dead. I wasn’t sure whether or not to be happy yet.

“Ah! Vait just a moment so zat I may properly introduce meinself!!” I felt her fingers scrambling at the back of my head, and suddenly I was flooded with bright, blinding light.

I wasn’t in her room anymore.

“Mmmf… mnngh…” I tried to say something, but there was something jammed in my mouth. A gag. I was tied to a bed, lying on my back which felt uncomfortable against a spine that was anything but like my own, each of my limbs pulling me spread eagle, one arm toward each of the corners of the comfortable mattress.

“Mein apologies for ze restraints, Aaron,” Aryanne chirped, striding in front of me. I noticed her dirndl had been replaced by a uniform that looked like it was right out of a cosplay convention. I couldn’t place the origins of the grey and black jacket with silver brocade in my addled state, but I had to admit the thing looked as stylish as if it were designed by Hugo Boss. “I have only just Gotten you back to Eqvestria. I haff not even returned to mein true form. I did not vant you runningk off and hurting yourself.”

My eyes blinked, the lids felt heavier, different. I noticed that a big tuft of blonde hair was hanging over my right eye. But I had brown hair...

The room seemed familiar, though I’d never seen it before. The same bed, the same cleanliness, the same posters and paraphernalia hinting at somebody a little too obsessed with early 20th century German history.

Aryanne must have noticed my wandering eyes. “Ah yes, I apologize for zat, too. I vas supposed to bring you straight to headquarters upon successful conversion...” The blonde-haired girl blushed, looking ashamedly down at the floor, “...and yet I haff brought you to mein Eqvestrian home, vhy is zat?”

She looked up at me, cheeks puffing out cutely, eyes almost dewy with admiration.

“I… I vas not expecting you to turn out zo… zo gutaussehend — so handsome.” She scowled, playing with her hair. “And zis damn human body. It has no estral zycles! I feel like I am in heat! It is making me vant to do all sorts of immoral things vith you! Scheiße!”

She tossed her head back in frustration.

“Mmmf!” The only reply I could make in the situation.

“You do not believe me? One moment.” Aryanne stood up and strode to a nearby full-length vanity mirror, taking it in both hands and pulling it over to the bed. That’s when I saw something that made me scream as much as was possible through the sock stuffed in my mouth as I thrashed vainly against my bonds.

It was me.

As a pony.

I was just as large, if not larger than I had been as a man, but what had once been pink skin and human limbs had been entirely replaced with something totally alien.

Short, white fur covered my entire body, from my muscular barrel chest, over my powerful flanks, and up my strong stallion-ly neck. A shimmering waterfall of golden mane spilled from my new pony-head, which was only interrupted by a large spiraling horn protuberance.

A… unicorn!?

The way that my eyes stretched wider with shock was the only confirmation that those deep blue pools had replaced what had been my former green irises. The kicking struggle that followed, sending my new golden tail flashing up into the air was the final nail in the coffin. Those hoofed, powerful limbs were indeed my own.

I was a blonde-haired, blue-eyed unicorn.

“An über-poner!” Aryanne clapped with delight. “A complete dream-boat. I never vould haff guessed vith how ugly you vere as a human, but Aaron, as a pony mein heart is’ aflutter.” She sat down on the bed next to me, her hand reaching out to brush the tail hairs away from my side, revealing some kind of tattoo that she’d applied to my flank - a blue six-pointed Star of David. “And such a wunderbar cutie-mark! Aaron… I sink your people on Earth, ze… ‘Jews’? I think zey are ze chosen people, ze master-race of your world! And ve need zem here, vith ze unicorns, in Eqvestria!”

Aryanne slid next to me, her uniformed butt bumping against me as she leaned in close. Her arms wrapped underneath and around my barrel, as she squeezed me tight in a hug as if she’d just won me as a prize at the state fair. Her head snuggled into the nape of my neck, and I could feel her nostrils tickling my fur as she drew in a deep breath, smelling me.

“Oh Aaron, forgive me. I vant to do zings to you, zat no upstanding unmarried mare should ever, ever do.” She giggled, a finger twirling the tuft of fur on my chest, as she gazed dreamily into my face. She leaned in closer, and closer, her soft lips inching up and then gently caressing my new nose, as light as the touch of a butterfly landing on a flower.

“But, I know you are a gut stallion,” Aryanne cooed, sliding her legs onto the bed so she was lying next to me, one hand propping her head up and the other making circles on my belly, going lower and lower. She bit her lip as a tuft of hair fell across her face, and craned her neck up to my left ear. I could feel the small trace of a wet tongue-tip darting along the sensitive inner-part of my ear, making it flick involuntarily before she followed with a husky whisper. “I know you vill marry me and fill me vith your foals, to make me an honest mare.”

As she said this, her lower hand took hold of me.

And by me, I mean the new, very horse-like package I was sporting down below.

Her playful hand briefly cupped and rubbed my melon-sized balls, before taking a firm grip of the big, floppy sheath of black skin that contrasted so starkly against my white belly.

“Mmnngh…!” I groaned in pleasure. Her hand felt amazing.

My new bits began to spill into her hand, as my erection emerged from the sheath with each beat of my pounding stallion heart.

“Oh, Aaron. Oh, mein Gott!” Aryanne whispered in marvel as I grew more and more in her squeezing hand. “You are… so big. Vat a stallion. My stallion. My stud.” Her words were almost like moans as I finished growing.

My huge, pulsing horsecock reached up to beyond my ribcage easily a full twenty inches. Hung like a horse was more than just an expression for me, now. Aryanne’s hand looked tiny, her fingers not even making it halfway around the thick log of flesh as it throbbed in her grasp.

I could scarcely believe the leg-thick base was real if I wasn’t also feeling it. It’s hard to describe, having a penis that size — having sensations of fullness and pleasure that would usually only be distributed over something about the size of your hand now amplified and stretched across something the length and breadth of your entire arm. Aryanne’s cloying fingers, tentatively exploring the underside of my head weren’t helping either.

“Mmmnnnfgh!” I groaned again into the gag, as I felt a familiar pulse deep in my loins surge up. It felt like I was cumming.

My thick stallionhood slapped up and down against my belly, then emitted three heavy spurts of clear, thick essence against my upper belly. The surge of pleasure felt as potent as an actual orgasmic release, but it had only been my new body emitting some pre-ejaculate!

“Oh Aaron, mein leibe…” Aryanne giggled, quickly cupping her hand to catch the last spurt of stallion-nectar, the drenching splatter completely filling and soaking her digits. “Vas zat for me?”

I quickly noticed the smell. My smell.

Musky and heavy, dripping with masculinity and an odor of oak, cigars, and brandy. They say that humans have become inured to pheromones over the course of generations of evolution.

Not ponies.

And not ponies transformed into humans.

Aryanne lifted her dripping fingers to her cute, button nose and inhaled them, smelling them with a full draw of her breath and a contented sigh that followed right afterward.

“Mmm… oh, scheiße… I love ze vay you smell.” She brought one of her drenched fingers into her mouth, savoring the taste of me.

Despite how freaked the fuck out I was, my brain forced me to swallow in reaction to just how damn hot the sight was. Long past the point of mortal terror, I’d reverted to thinking with my other head — the enormous, flared monster still seeping softly onto the mattress.

“But I mustn't vaste your gift, mein leibe.” Aryanne slid her hand back to my twitching head, her hand now well-lubricated. She began to slowly and clumsily pump the first few inches of my member, her fingers swirling like a vortex of sensation around the nooks and crannies of my new, larger glans.

My cock jumped up in her hands, straining off my chest as blood surged into the huge stallion-sausage, thickening it further.

“Mein Celestia, Aaron!” Aryanne gasped, bringing her other hand to help her barely wrap one whole ring of grasping girl-fingers around my cock. “You vould put even ze barbaric zebra savages to shame, so fat and long and… powerful.”

Her hands began working themselves up and down my length, coating my obsidian length with the fountain-like trickle of pre-cum burbling from my pulsing tip. My hips surged up off the bed in delighted agony as her fingers bumped over my ring, as she worked all the way down to the bottom of my fat stallionhood, her hands losing the ability to maintain even a two-handed grip at the ultimate girth of my hilt.

“Scheiße, zis vill break an ordinary mare, Aaron,” Aryanne muttered with wonder, her eyes transfixed on my new equipment, before they flicked back to my face, and twinkled with a naughty glint. “But I am not an ordinary mare.”

Before I even knew what was happening, Aryanne’s head ducked down and kissed my cockhead. The butterfly kiss that had graced my nose was gone, replaced with a suckling, smoothing smooch that let her tongue dance across my new urethral opening.

Showers of electric sensation danced across my eyes, sparks of pure pleasure making me see spots as her tongue raced back and forth over me. I felt her try to push more of my huge, fist-sized flare into her mouth, only for it to quickly catch on her teeth.

“Bwah…” Aryanne popped her mouth off briefly, looking back at me with an apologetic glance. “Sorry Aaron, I can’t fit you in zis small, human mouth… but I don’t sink even my pony mouth could fit zis.” She giggled and began to lick me like an ice cream cone, her hands pumping faster and faster.

In some moment of twisted humor, I’d imagined an ice cream shop, selling different flavors of cock, with a large gallon tub labeled with my name on it — all the while I shivered with delight.

“You taste so gut…” She groaned, pumping the big black shaft and lapping at me.

I don’t know what it was, the sensation of her pumping, insistent grip, the darting licks of her daring, greedy tongue or the intensely erotic vision of a blue-eyed, blonde-haired, beauty of a girl blowing a massive horse-cock…

But it was too much.

I felt my new, heavy balls clench and shoot up to my abdomen; a painful throb more powerful than any yet raced down my shaft, like the first pulse when you turn on a garden hose. The incredibly alien and unique feel of my cockhead blossoming, flaring into a wide, stiff saucer-flat plate of pure masculine rigidity was stunning.

And then I erupted.

I don’t know how to describe it.

It was like orgasming as a human… if a single spurt lasted as long as taking a long leak.

That incredible feeling of jerking, clenching release… but just so much longer… and so much more.

The eruption of steaming horse-semen was a welcome surprise to Aryanne. Moments into my first steaming rope-thick blast, the girl’s cheeks were already full, and she was forced to pull her face from the erupting geyser. Through the haze of my orgasm, I could see her swallow what she had managed to catch, her eyes shimmering and rolling with delight.

“MNnnnngh!” I groaned, as my second burst began in earnest, shooting a white arc that slung high into the air, splattering back down on my chest with heavy plops of glue-thick weight.

“Scheiße!” Aryanne squealed, moving quickly out of the blast zone.

All I know is that I shut my eyes with the straining pleasure of the conclusion of my second shot, and by the time I had opened them again, Aryanne had straddled me.

The girl looked down at me with desperation, her long hair hanging from either side of her head. She’d hastily torn down her leggings so they were bunched around her knees, and just as my cock began to jerk and spurt its third heavy dollop, she plopped her athletic bottom onto my belly…

Pinning my mid-shaft against her bare pussy.

Even through the surge of orgasmic overload, I could feel the sticky, hot press of her pink human pussy-lips against the ridge-thick slickness of my horsecock. Her vagina was just as cute as she was, a small tuft of now-moist blonde fur nestled above a pair of slender, tight lips that were sliding up my spurting shaft.

“Nein, nein, nein!” Aryanne groaned, leaning herself more onto my cock. I could see her little clitoris peeking out from its hood, the contrast of colors as the hot-pink button mashed against the dark black of my stallionhood striking. “Ve are vasting it!”

My spurts were firing across both of us now, the heavy dollops splattering against her cotton jacket, soaking it as thoroughly as if she’d been the target of some obscene super-soaker filled with tapioca pudding. But still, she kept sliding up, not minding as blast after blast of my steaming spunk splattered against her belly, chest, chin, and face. In fact, she seemed to like it.

Her diminutive pussy finally reached my spurting flare, the wet press of her boiling labia as she slid over my fattened, knobby glans making me realize why a friend back on Earth had once told me that a pussyjob was superior to actual sex.

But it was all a pipe-dream.

Aryanne’s hurried grind had been doomed from the start, the size of my new equipment was comical compared to her human anatomy and Aryanne could only mewl with frustration as my eight and final pulsing release splattered into her steaming furrow, the massive dome of my stallionhood as unlikely to enter her as a cantaloupe might be pushed into a garden hose.

“Mmm… mmmf… mnngh…” My groans from behind the gag were the ending notes to the soundtrack of my orgasm, all while Aryanne desperately pressed herself against me, grinding out the last few burbling pulses of white spunk.

“Scheiße, Aaron… it vill never fit.” She swore under her breath, clicking her teeth. Steaming tendrils of evaporating musk came off of her soaked clothes, body, hair. She was drenched in eau de musk. And she was frustrated.

“Zis damn body, I’m sure it is in heat!” She groaned, reaching down to cup her swollen womanhood, covered in sticky spunk. “You haff no idea how badly I vant you inside me, mein leibe. I vant to bear your foals… our foals, so badly…” One hand went back and cupped my twitching sack, “I vant you to fill me. It is like mein first estrus! But zis damn body, too small…”

Then her eyes flashed, brightening, and she turned to a now-familiar looking flask on her bedstand.

“Ah… but it is time for you to see me as ze mare I really am.”

Giving her some good genetics

Author's Note

This fic was my submission to the anti-censorship art pack
Marenheit 451

I thought I could do some good by posting my fic here to drive more attention to the pack, which might not be well known about on this site.

Please click here to go to the pack and support artistic freedom in our community with a small donation. Proceeds go toward Days End Farm Horse Rescue in support of real world horsies.

Thanks!

Giving her some good genetics

As a puddle of pony-flesh, coated in my own sweat and semen and drool, as the cute human girl untangled herself from my limp massive anaconda, pulling her tight, obscenely stained leggings back up over her bottom and picking up the familiar purple flask of bubbling potion that I had imbibed earlier.

Looking back at me with a flash of wild giddiness, Aryanne began to fumble at her clothes. Those slender fingers that had only moments earlier been gripping and pumping me fat log of flesh struggled with the buttons and fasteners of her uniform. After a third attempt to undo a particularly stubborn buckle, she threw her head back with a groan.

“Scheiße, to hell vith it. Kyrie can make a new one for when she goes.” Abandoning her attempt to de-clothe herself, I watched as, without hesitation, the girl tossed back the entire contents of the vial.

“Ahhg, ze taste is still as horrible as I remember it,” Aryanne grunted, dropping the vial onto the floor, before wheeling back to look at me, a predatory grin growing in her otherwise innocent-looking face. “But it is all verth it for you, mein leibe.”

Suddenly, a spasm wracked her, and her arms shot to her gut, as if she’d been punched, she flinched and moaned, then began to change.

I watched with rapt attention as the changes shook through her, like a shimmer through a waving flag. First, her already beautiful and luxurious hair began to lengthen and glow, spilling off of her head and down her neck, pouring over the back of her sweaty uniform in glowing cascades of glorious blonde mane.

At the same time, from the same athletic rear that had enticed me into this situation in the first place, a tuft of the same blonde hair began to peek out from over the top waistband of her leggings.

She was growing a tail!

Her ears, which I had always believed to be one of her cutest features, cupped and morphed, growing longer and fuzzier faster than the rest of her body, a dew-soft fur coating them as they lengthened to elven proportions. I gaped in awe and they continued to lengthen from their base, even broadening slightly as they peaked up perkily over the top of her golden head.

I couldn’t help but grow a few inches myself!

“Ungh… m-mein arsche…” Aryanne groaned, her hands reaching down to her bottom, as she blushed. I could see her glutes changing, shifting, growing underneath the thinly constraining legging as they turned into their pony form, plumping with muscular power and size and beginning to tear and strain at the fabric.

*Riiiiiiip!*

The sound of tearing fabric rent the air, revealing her exquisite bottom to my eyes. I watched with a strange mixture of horror and excitement as her butt continued to grow, quickly sprouting a short fuzz of pristine white fur. Even more fascinating was seeing her female anatomy as it shifted and changed…

Her slender humanlike puffy lips were perched just beneath her tight, pink pucker. But as the shimmer of transformation roiled through them, they morphed. Her lips puffed out, lengthened, becoming thicker and more powerful, the skin became a more prominent shade of pink, almost glowing in fleshly contrast to the white fur framing it. At the same time, her asshole rose up to beneath her new tailbone, the little knuckle-wrinkle of flesh poofed outward, fattening into a tight ring of muscle, not unlike a donut, that quivered and settled above her new vagina. That womanhood… no, marehood… had finished transforming, looking every bit the horse pussy I had seen on mares back on earth. And even as I watched, the muscular lips tightened and squeezed, pulling the bottom of her marehood upward and flashing a glance at the red-hot twisting interior of Aryanne’s changing body. A flash of a heart-shaped clitoris the size of a silver dollar followed.

I don’t know why, but the sight of the bestial and alien sexual organs made my heart skip a beat. I was not a zoophile! Maybe it was my body? I wasn’t sure, but damn did I feel a considerable measure of desire for that luscious rear at that moment.

“AAanngh!” A final grunt escaped Aryanne, and the rest of the transformation happened in what seemed like two blinks of an eye, as if the reaction took place exponentially — slowly at first, then rising to a breakneck pace. I was happy it was over quickly, the sight of joints knitting and slipping, of hands forming into hooves, of a nose lengthening into a muzzle and of narrow hominid eyes growing to wide cerulean pools was awkward, to say the least.

But, all of a sudden it was done.

And standing before me, shaking off the ruins of her tattered jacket and giggling at the remaining torn band of leggings around her rump, was a blonde-maned, blue-eyed, white-furred pony mare.

Aryanne, or rather, pony-Aryanne, noticed me eyeing her, and her giggles ceased. Her ears flicked backward, and she shrank from my stare, ducking her head slightly, her eyes darting away from mine, unable to meet my gaze. Her tail drooped, reminding me of a dog that had been caught stealing dinner from the table. Suddenly, it seemed as though she were self-conscious.

Was she really the same girl? Moments before she’d been so wild, so animated. She hadn’t said a word - had something gone wrong during her transformation?

“A-Aaron… m-mein leibe,” She stumbled out. “I… I d-did not sink to zay zis before. I… I should haff told you.” A hoof of hers pawed at the ground. It looked almost as if she would cry. “I… I am not a unicorn… I am a mud-pony, an untermensch.”

She walked up to the bedside, getting closer to my still gagged face. “B-but… I serve ze Eqvestrian fatherland. I serve Celestia. I am a gut pony!” She choked. “And… and… I am sure, if you vould haff a mudpony like me in your harem, as a vife. I am sure your superior genes vould make our foals strongk and beautiful.”

I had no clue what she was talking about. Not that I could reply. All I knew was that when this pony-girl looked at me with wide, pleading eyes, it felt like the entire weight of the world was one my shoulders, like some otherworldly power, was demanding that I do whatever necessary to make this cute little thing happy again.

She sniffed and rubbed her two front-hooves together cutely, shyly. “Z-zo… v-vould you… haff me, Aaron?”

I don’t know if I did it consciously or subconsciously, spontaneously or with forethought, but my chin definitely dipped and came back up. The simplest of nods.

It was just so natural, so instinctive!

I don’t know why I wasn’t thinking about the fact that she’d just kidnapped and transformed me! I just — for a moment I didn’t want her to cry, that’s all! And I didn’t care about whatever weird-ass superiority thing she was talking about.

But, oh boy, did that ever kick things into next gear.

The moment she saw my nod, Aryanne’s eyes flashed from despair to wild, ecstatic joy.

“Ja! Ja ja ja!” She cheered, pumping her hoove cutely. The only thing more adorable was the strange and intensely satisfying *squee* sound that hummed out of her mouth as she finished her little dance. “Oh yes, Aaron! Ve vill haff zo many little vuns, at least three fillies und three colts! Ve vill teach zem to sing, ve vill be so happy! You must keep me vith foal until I am too old to bear any more! Oh oh oh, ve must get started…”

She clambered up onto the bed. I noticed she was breathing quite heavily now, huskily panting and swallowing, her tongue working its way around her lips as she looked at me like something she wished to devour.

“Ve must get started right avay!”

Aryanne was standing over me now, her mane hanging down much as her hair had been only minutes earlier. Once again, she bent down to kiss my nose, but this time I could see just which form she really had skill and experience with.

Her large, flat pony-tongue caressed the end of my muzzle for a moment, before slipping into my mouth, finding a crevice behind the gag through which she could explore my throat for a moment, a demanding worm of her oral muscle taking what it wanted from a poor, restrained stallion.

She lingered there for only a moment, humming with delight as she pulled back out, but not ceasing her kiss, instead drawing it up and across my cheek and the side of my fuzzy face, leaving a wet trace of her saliva as she drew a moist trail up to my ear.

A shudder wracked my body when she lapped the delicate innards of my left ear. Clearly, these pony pinnae were more sensitive than their human equivalents. But Aryanne was a talented ear-smith, the warm wet tip of her probe drawing little circles closer and closer to the cochlear center of my ear.

“Mmnngh…” I groaned, my eyes squeezing shut under the sensation, simultaneously wanting and not wanting her to go deeper inside.

“Shhh… mein Aaron, mein stud-strudel. I vill prepare you now.” Her coo was so soft, so matter of fact. It was blown into my ear more than spoken… and yet, there was no doubt in my mind she was about to accomplish just what she had stated.

In a flash, she shifted and turned, pulling her head away from me as I craned up toward her departing tongue, desperate for even a moment more. But she only giggled as she rotated her body, turning one-hundred and eighty degrees…

Bringing me face to face — or was it face-to-ass? — with her beautiful, pony plot.

Her dock stood stiffly upright, proudly saluting even as it wiggled with small gyrations like a pleased puppy dog greeting its master.

Perched just beneath that flagging wand of sweaty-blonde tail hair was Aryanne’s pink tailhole, a delicious ponut of tight, forbidden delight, quivering under the muscular tension of her athletic, militarily-toned flanks, which it pressed into on either side.

And then, below that, was the vision which made my new stallion-heart pound in my breast.

Her pink marehood, slender despite its puffy, muscular lips, glistening with the honey-dew of her arousal, beads of erotic mixtures of sweat and mare-nectar running down its outer crevices to drip from its lowest point.

She was aroused. Very aroused.

My newfound equinity demanded I do my duty for the good of the race.

The flashing pink innards of her twisting, tight love-tunnel confirmed that assertion, as steamy glimpses of her clenching vaginal depths peaked out from behind her outer lips. This was often accompanied by little half-blips of her excited love-bud, a sizable nub of pure pleasure that was giving little waves hello as Aryanne’s heart sent it slipping in and out of its clitoral hood hidey-hole, looking almost painfully erect.

And just below this rested a pair of pert, bouncing teats. Not where I was used to seeing mammaries, but even these seemed to make my body quake with excitement, particularly the nubbin shaped nipples that were clearly painfully erect on both.

Her scent hit me like a freight train running into a brick wall.

One moment I had been breathing the sweaty, dank air of Aryanne’s room… and the next, my now much larger sinus was filled with nothing but her. It was like wild mountain spring flowers, mixed with cedar… and pure sex.

I don’t know what it is like to be addicted to something, but I knew in that moment that I was addicted to that smell. I truly felt like I could die happy if I could just drink in that musk and drown in it. I could feel my nostrils flare and open wider, drawing in deep gouts of the musky air, thick with Aryanne’s natural perfume. It was so thick in the air, hanging like a fog, it was more like I was drinking her essence out of the very atmosphere.

I felt my cock jump in a twitch from my belly, a surge of hot fresh blood racing down it, beginning to fill it again.

“Ah, does mein stallion like vat he seez?” Aryanne giggled, looking back over her shoulder. “Vell, let’s not keep him vaiting, ja?” She grinned wolfishly, flashing her canines and emitting a small growl before she dipped her head.

The next thing I felt was a hot, flat, wet tongue, pressing against my stallionhood.

She was licking me.

And unlike her human tongue, she really knew what she was doing this time and she had a lot more power and size to work with. Like a coiling snake, her drool-dripping organ wrapped around and over my knobby, rapidly re-inflating flare, darting left and right as she licked up anything left over from my first orgasm.

“Mmmgnng!” I groaned, into the gag.

“You like zat, mein stud-strudel?” She gasped, breaking her wet tonguing exploration for a moment to ask me. “Zen, you vill luff zis!”

I felt her take the whole of my phallus into her mouth, as all of my flare was suddenly encapsulated, both top and bottom, by fleshly, wrapping confines. Her tongue whirled and whorled over and under, sometimes prodding my urethral opening, sometimes darting to my glans.

I was rapidly regaining my very full, very large stature. I could feel my flare expanding, beginning to press into Aryanne’s teeth and jam her against her muzzle as my size stretched her limits with each new pulse of my racing heartbeat.

“Mnngh… gah!” Aryanne barely managed to pop herself free of my flare before it ended up becoming her gag. “Oh ja… mein Gott, Aaron. You really vere too big for my mouth!” She grinned over her shoulder at me, one hoof pawing at my fully-erect, massive stallionhood. “I hope our sons vill be more gentle vis zere fillyfriends zen I vant you to be vith me,” She waggled her eyebrows. “A lesser mare vould break vith zis kind of… big, fat, schwanz.”

As she breathed the last word, she leaned back forward, laying a lick that started as the very tip of my penis, racing down every one of its twenty long, girthy, throbbing inches, over every protruding vein and bump, over the medial ring and down its girth base, all the way down to my ponderously large new testicles.

I felt Aryanne’s warm, wet nose bury itself into my sack, snuffling and inhaling as she languished in my musky sexual organs.

“Oh, Aaron…” A contented sigh wafted up from below. “I luff your smell. You smell like… mmf... Like a real stallion.”

As her nose buried itself in my junk, I could see her rear wiggling with delight, shaking backward bit by bit, bringing her plot closer to my face with each of her sniffing licks. I could feel the radiant heat of her sex against my face. She was almost humping the air, her stiff clit waggling just off the end of my nose.

It was driving me nuts.

“Ah, ahn!” Aryanne groaned again and jerked back. “Ja, j-jaaa!”

That’s when it happened. Her stiff love nubbin touched my sniffling boop-snooter. The touch set off an immediate chain reaction — the sensation of pressure made Aryanne sit back further, grinding her pussy right into my face, shoving my already overloaded olfactory organ into the honeypot of pheromonal bliss.

And then she came.

I felt her marehood twitch and clench, powerful muscles in Aryanne’s thighs and pelvis pulling her lips into a wink, shoving her clitoris out in a sloppy kiss against the end of my nose, grinding it even harder into me while her body blossomed like a flower and opened it’s twisting interior.

And squirted.

A hot dollop of clear marecum splashed from her nascent recesses, splattering across my nose and into my gagged mouth, each droplet of liquid like an explosion of taste and pure lust in my mouth.

I don’t know what happened then, whether there was some part of me that had always been ready to explode, buried deep within my human mind… or if was because of my new pony biology, new organs, and neurons reserved for the most feral of instinctive actions.

But I… had changed!

I felt my muscles surge with adrenalin and bulge with power. My filly needed me. Not some bound up loser. She needed her stud, needed him inside her, now.

And I would do everything I could to give her just that. To bury myself in Aryanne and fill her with the sweet release she needed.

The ropes holding me groaned and strained, bending under the huge force I was applying to them with my strength, but it was the bedposts that snapped, tearing the thick oaken wood from their corners with a resounding…

*CRACK*

The whole bed sagged and collapsed in a heap as its supports were torn free.

“A-Aaron!?” Aryanne’s surprised voice squeaked, as she felt the bed fall out from under her, and the stallion that had been hitherto restrained surging upwards with an animal-like vigor.

In one fluid motion, I had thrown the cordage from my hooves, torn the gag from my mouth, and pushed Aryanne up and off of me, throwing her face-first to land in a pile of pillows at the foot of the mattress on her now destroyed bed.

I’d never felt so alive, so powerful, so… feral.

Every muscle fiber in my new body surged with energy and strength. I could feel the churning power of my heart as it drove blood through my wide arteries, I could feel the oxygen rushing through my lungs from the deep gulps of air I drew from the musky fog of the room. I felt like a horse on some ancient plain in the midwest, running free and wild.

Untamed.

And right before me, was my broodmare, waiting for me.

The throb of my massive, black stallionhood was impossible to ignore. The whole length throbbed with animal power and biological imperative. It had to be quenched, like a blacksmith dipping his searing hot bar of iron into an oil-quench… and my filly needed it too, needed it just as bad as I did.

My body moved naturally, in every sense of the word, driven by millennia of ingrained evolutionary instruction, as I mounted and covered the far smaller mare, completely overpowering her with my bulk.

“Ah-Aaron?” Aryanne squeaked again, some fear in her voice. My only reply was a strange, nickering whinny. “J-ja... ja! Take me!” She snorted, tossing her head wildly.

“With pleasure!” I brought my hips forward, driven by my powerful hindlegs with a thrust that I was sure could have demolished a concrete wall. My huge tip slid forward, glancing off of Aryanne’s left ass-flank and sliding in towards her plot, coming in to make a wet kiss against her tailhole.

The squish of rigid stud-shaft against her tight sphincter made Aryanne buck wildly. Though the impossibility of her diminutive butthole accepting my gargantuan horsemeat was certain, the mere stretch and the possibility of such a painful penetration made Aryanne divert my first thrust — my ebony log of pure horsepower slipped upward and next to her dock, sliding along the curve of her ass and up her lower back, further and further until my hips met her flank, which left the end of my stallionhood at a terrifyingly far distance up the smaller mare’s mid-back.

“Nein! Nein!” Aryanne yelped, looking back at me.

“I wanna fuck you.” I snarled, in a voice so much harder than I’d ever known, leaning in and nipping at her neck. I didn’t know what had come over me, but there were a rage and a fire boiling over, a madness that I hadn’t rutted her completely on my first stroke.

“Ja ja, mein stud-strudel,” Aryanne cooed, dodging my nips by nuzzling in close to my neck. “But zat vas mein arschehole,” she giggled, “ve can try zat later, vonce I am vith foal… if it vill fit. Here.”

Aryanne managed to reach behind her, taking the heavy weight of my horsemeat laying along her spine in her hoof and trying to reposition it further backward.

“Scheiße, its zo big,” Aryanne swore, as she brought me back to her plot. “B-be careful, Aaron.”

A snorted, letting a blast of hot air wash over her upper back. She aligned us, bringing my head against her winking, soaking marehood. The instant it touched, there was no ‘careful’ to be had.

I drove forward again, pressing hard against her tight lips.

“OH! OH, ach de lieber Himmel!” Aryanne’s body tensed, her back arching against the huge pressure I was forcing against her pussy. “It von’t… it’s too big!”

The huge cockhead smushed wider, stretching her lips by tantalizing fractions of an inch as it parted her, and opened her up until finally, her hot marehood accepted my throbbing cock.

*POP*

With an audible squelching pop, my stallionhood sank into her, inch after inch burying itself deep into her pony body. This was not like any fleshlight or pocket-pussy experience I had ever had - it was almost trivial to try to even compare.

Not only did I have so much more, thicker, longer, of an organ to experience the sensation with but her body was alive with twisting, grasping clenching swirls, her tight pussy welcoming, and massaging my plunging male vitality with every fold of her inner cavern.

“Ja, ja! Aaron! Aaron!” She moaned, gasping out. I could feel her left leg kick involuntarily as she tried to process the sensations.

But I was in autopilot now. I was more than happy to turn off the sapient part of my brain and let the biology into the driver’s seat. And drive it did.

My next thrust sent another four inches plunging into Aryanne, driving my cock into her slender pony body right up to the fat medial ring which demarcated the first two-thirds. I had more than fifteen inches of pulsing meat inside this little thing! And every inch was surrounded by sumptuous velvety tightness, as different groups of muscles sent waves of milking convulsions rippling down my shaft, squeezing me from the deepest depth my tip had reached to her drooling lips, each ripple squeezing out a fresh dollop of pungent, hot marecum.

“F-fuck!” I grunted under my lips, angry that her completely crammed Kehlsteinhaus had jammed against the terrifying width of my lower cock.

“Gah… ah… ah! Ah!” Aryanne’s little gasps punctuated my attempts to jam past her new line of resistance, as I hooked my powerful forelimbs around her shoulders and pulled her downward, bouncing her against my thrusts. “T-too… too b-big!”

“Aryanne!” I half-snarled, half-whinnied, launching a particularly vicious thrust that knocked her forehooves out from under her, sending her face crashing into the pillows, and leaving her ass up in the air, suspended there by my cock and her quivering legs. The fall was just the extra bump her body needed…

Her lips stretched wider, wider than they likely would when giving birth to our inevitable foals, permitting my ring and the trunk-like, girthy base of my stallionhood to plumb her depths.

“M-muh… muh… MEIN GOTT! UHHHhhhhngghhh…!” Aryanne’s squeal accompanied a deep, shuddering convulsion as my cock stretched her lower belly, a sizable bump there as she accommodated a stallionhood that was far too large for her, but it was a squeal of sheer joy, delight, ecstasy.

She was creaming all over me.

I could feel her orgasmic convulsions, the milking demand of her powerful pony pussy muscles as they wrung my stallionhood, swirling in organized chaos designed to make me burst.

“Hnnnghh… hnghh… hnggh!” Her grunts came with new squirts of hot, steaming nectar: her body’s feeble attempt to lubricate the beast that was splitting her.

And that’s when I began to truly rut her.

At first, small movements: an inch out, an inch in. Drawing back like an archer pulling on his bowstring, the powerful suction, and girth of my granite hardness pulling Aryanne’s pink inner-lips out into the open with each outstroke.

And then, as I found my rhythm, with more intensity and fierceness, sliding my hips forward and back as I moved six inches in a pistoning fashion —then eight — then a full foot of cock in and out of her still quivering marehood.

“Hah… hah… hah… Gott… C-Celestia in Himmel...” Aryanne was whining. I could see from the reflection in the mirror that her eyes were somewhat cross-eyed, rolling in her skull with delirium. Her pupils had even turned into cute little hearts.

She hadn’t stopped cumming.

My thrusts were becoming jackhammer-pounds now, faster and deeper, swinging my heavy ball sack forward with each exertion to slap against Aryanne’s thighs, thudding with dull, wet ‘plaps’ that filled the room with strikingly obscene noise, and set a strange metronomic rhythm to my insatiable, bestial rutting.

*PLAP... PLAP... PLAP.. PLAP. PLAP. *

My speed began to increase as I felt the knot in my gut turning tighter and tighter, twisting into a potent coil, potential energy building up like a nuclear reactor with the control rods pulled out. My body was churning with a genetic payload, my desires were rapidly reaching a meltdown.

*PLAP. PLAP. PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP PAP PAP PAP PAP*

Faster and faster.

The whole of my length pistoning in and out of the furnace of her body — The whole, except for an infuriating final few inches.

My equine battering ram had been pounding against the gate of some unseen barrier, deep inside my broodmare. And it was driving me wild. If I was at all rational, I should have been able to recognize that so much of her was already stretched, straining, impossibly enveloping an organ that she was in no way designed to handle.

And yet, my biology insisted, demanded that she take those final few inches from me.

I leaned forward again, dipping my new snout and mouth to Aryanne’s thrashing, sweating neck. I was already using every sinew of strength, every fiber of my being to push into her. My lower legs ached, my hips screamed for relief, my upper forelegs could pull back on Aryanne’s slumped, pleasure-overloaded shoulders no more. The only thing I had left, was my neck muscles, and to use that as leverage, I would need to…

Bite.

My teeth nipped into the nape of Aryanne’s neck even, digging into the soft flesh there.

“JA! JA! JaaaaAAAAaAAAAaaaaaannngh!” Aryanne suddenly squealed, her orgasmic cry turning into a whinny as she did.

And the last barrier, at long last, suddenly slipped open.

I slid into Aryanne’s womb, my huge flare penetrating her cervix as I hilted into her, slamming deep into the other side of her most central soul, her very femininity. Every single inch of my masculinity completely swallowed by her marehood, straining and stretching to satisfy her male master, completely hilted inside her.

And right on cue, I exploded.

The first orgasm was nothing compared to this.

The speed with which my huge balls retracted, the massive throb of a bulging pressure-pulse that tore down my completely buried cock, the straining pain to which my flare expanded, so wide that it made a divot just under Aryanne’s rib cage and then the sheer flood of spunk that followed. It could only be described as a feeling of completeness.

“Ah-ah-ARYANNE!” I snarled, through my toothy nip of her neck.

“AARON!”

The response from my mare was just as throaty, as the first heavy, steaming gout of my cum boiled into her fertile womb. Like before, it seemed to last forever, the sensation of a mere spurt as a human being extended into a long, drawn-out stream of ejaculation.

And that was only the first spurt.

Pulse after pulse of my essence drained out of me, the broken coil of my internal spring dumping all of its energy in shuddering orgasms that filled Aryanne with bubbling, frothy stallion-seed. A full meltdown of my reactor as gigawatts of sexual energy dumped into her small body.

Some time through my fifth blast, I felt a new sensation. Like a dim headache, as my brain struggled with the sheer waves of orgasmic overpressure. I felt a strange, almost miniature ejaculation from the horn in the middle of my head, that sent sparks of light, and showers of twinkles crackled into the air.

But I could barely notice, my eyes were rolling in my head. I was programmed to serve one purpose and one mistress, to the propagation of our species and the continuation of my line. It all came down to pumping this mare full of my genetic payload. And pump I did.

It felt like pints and pints of myself, squirting and splattering into her womb. More than I could possibly produce. More than she could possibly take.

And yet I still filled her.

The plug of my flare in her cervix kept all of my essence inside, quickly making her belly grow from the pressure of my seed packing her. In the mirror, I could see her once taut belly pooching out, first a little pudgy, then a noticeable bulge, until finally she actually looked pregnant.

A final, groaning pump came out of me, I’d lost track around the fifteenth or sixteenth shot… it felt like I had been orgasming for hours. And I didn’t mind one bit.

As the last trickle escaped me, I slumped to one side, spooning my little mare. As if to punctuate just how much I’d emptied myself into her. Aryanne’s cute little belly-button popped from an innie to an outie.

I don’t know how much time passed, both of us just basking in the pure bliss of our post-coital heaven… more one being than two separate entities. Our consciousnesses had faded into nothing more than strange mumbles and giggles, as seconds, minutes… perhaps even hours, days, weeks seemed to pass.

Time was just a hazy concept at this point.

It was perfect.

It was really only Aaron who did not see it coming... you knew!

Author's Note

This fic was my submission to the anti-censorship art pack
Marenheit 451

I thought I could do some good by posting my fic here to drive more attention to the pack, which might not be well known about on this site.

Please click here to go to the pack and support artistic freedom in our community with a small donation. Proceeds go toward Days End Farm Horse Rescue in support of real world horsies.

Thanks!

It was really only Aaron who did not see it coming... you knew!

But it had to end.

I opened my dumb mouth first, shattering the temporally stalled nirvana we had found ourselves in.

“My God… sh-shit…” I gasped, gripping Aryanne harder, pulling our sweating bodies closer together, wrapping her protectively.

“Mein Gott… Scheiße…” She agreed, giggling. Her hoof took mine and brought it to her plump belly. “Vat haff you done to me, mein stud-strudel?” Her laugh was melodious, cute. In my post-orgasmic bliss, I wanted to hear nothing else for the rest of my days. “You haff stuffed mein oven completely! Naughty, naughty colt!” She giggled, using my hoof to pat her belly.

I sighed, grinning. “I… I guess I could get used to being a pony, Aryanne.”

“Ja… and you had better get used to doing zis tvice a day, every day, mein stud-strudel. Like a gut husband should.” She teased, swirling my hoof on her plump belly with a laugh.

I grinned, mind still awash in the post-orgasmic bliss of having surely knocked up my mare. “Even when you’re pregnant with our kids, Aryanne?”

“Vat did I say before about mein arsche, Aaron? A gut vife must please her stallion vith every bit of her body.”

Damn.

I’d have to work something out with Aryanne about getting back to see my friends and family every once in a while, but maybe this really was a life worth living, with a cute pony girlfriend and sex that made every other earthly pursuit seem trivial by comparison.

But all that worry could come later. For now, it was time to snuggle.

I spooned in closer to Aryanne, cock still hilted deep within the cum-churning depths of her uterus, both of our bodies covered in obscene fluids and sweat, amongst the detritus of her destroyed bed, happy to just bask in the closeness of one another. She sighed with contentment as I kissed the back of her head... and I let my free hoof trace down her side to her flank.

“Huh, what’s this?” I mumbled, feeling some scraps of her leggings still there.

“Ah, mein pantyhose, some is still left on me.”

It was covering her buttcheek, about where the butt-tattoo I had was. I wondered if maybe she had the same one: maybe it was a mark that all the ponies of this world had, or maybe it was a mark that said I belonged to her family?

I pulled back the ripped fabric to look underneath.

...

I immediately regretted my decision.

“AARON, MEIN LEIBE! VERE ARE YOU GOING!?”

I sprinted as fast as my legs could take me, galloping out into the unknown night, panic gripping my chest, cock flopping between my legs, still dripping wet as I screamed at the top of my lungs.

“ZIS IS EQVESTRIA! YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW VERE YOU ARE!”

“AAHHHHH!”

“DID I DO SOMETHINK WRONG?”

End