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.

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!

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.