A Pony's Inflation

by AmethystMare

Rating: mature
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Original Character, Porn, Fetish, Fluttershy, Sex
Length: 9275

Arctic faces further inflation on the farm...

After filling himself to inflating point with milk, pony-pet Arctic must face the wrath of his mistress Fluttershy, who has more than one punishment in mind for him... And the cows that he was supposed to be assisting on the farm have more and more even kinkier roles for him to fill...

Spoiler tags for adult content/fetishes: M/F, femdom, inflation, gangbang, dubcon, impact play, hyper, messy/dirty/farm.

Published 2020-09-09 08:10:00 UTC
Last updated 2020-09-21 19:54:50 UTC

Chapter One

Author's Note

After filling himself to inflating point with milk, pony-pet Arctic must face the wrath of his mistress Fluttershy, who has more than one punishment in mind for him...

This story has been available for early reading one to two months ago on SubscribeStar and Patreon (SubscribeStar contains extreme content while Patreon does not)! Please check the tiers on the following links if you would like to support!

Patreon (no extreme content): https://www.patreon.com/arianmabe

SubscribeStar (includes extreme content): https://subscribestar.adult/arian-mabe

As always, I am open for commissions starting at 30 GBP per 1,000 words - please e-mail arianmabe[at]gmail.com for more information or see my profile!

Story © Amethyst Mare / Arian Mabe
Character © respective owners

Chapter One

A Pony’s Inflation
Part One

Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)
Commissioned by anonymous

Arctic groaned, swaying on his stomach, rolling back and forth, his belly heavily bloated with milk, though he had the hose back between his lips, suckling lightly, wanting more even as his mistress stood over him. Even though he was larger than her as a normal pegasus stallion, Fluttershy had a way about her that made him seem impossibly small and weak, nothing at all at her hooves. He was her pet, completely and utterly, the collar and tag around his neck showing that quite clearly, although even the most devoted of pets were liable to slip up from time to time.

“You’re in big trouble.”

No “pet”. Arctic flinched, eyes closed. That was bad, that was so very bad, but he was so fat and grossly inflated still that he could not help himself, the pressure rising and rising on his stomach as he moaned, wanting it all but needing it to be teased out of him again, a fat length of stallion-meat pressed up to the underside of his heaving stomach, larger than what any normal, self-respecting mare could take. Yet Fluttershy had risen to the challenge of it, something that she could yearn for time after time again, though she controlled him so fully that she could have him any time she liked, even though she very rarely allowed him to orgasm. That was just one of many, many things that made the transgression of his climaxing without permission so heinous.

Arctic groaned. Maybe she’d set him up to fail in sending him out to the farm to take on extra work, the dairy sector needing more assistance than their stable hoofs could handle in the busiest of times. He wouldn’t have been surprised but that may have just been his over-active imagination at work, attributing reasoning to things that really didn’t need to be reasoned with. His stomach churned and he moaned again, letting go of the hose even though he could not meet her eyes, the small, yellow pegasus with a softly flowing curve of a pink mane that could have stopped the heart of many a stallion.

“Look at me.”

He couldn’t. But he had to. His mistress finding him as large as the room where the main milk tank was stored, bursting at the seams and rolling in a pool of his own cum, was embarrassing enough but Arctic knew well enough what Mistress Shy would do to him. He had cum without her permission and that was a transgression that she absolutely could not possibly allow to slide.

“I’ll have to punish you.”

Her tone was sinuous like a vine weaving around him or maybe even the hose around his neck, breath coming with great difficulty – and that wasn’t just from the weight of his stomach pressing down on his orgasm, tightening around his lungs. The sheer volume of milk that he’d greedily guzzled down, losing himself in the passion of it all, the kinky delight taken on his own terms, bloated him out so that his legs stuck out in funny directions, tail wiggling and waving somewhere up in the corner of the room.

Wait, what was that about a punishment? Should he have been listening to that? Arctic could not see much, groaning mutely, knowing that there was no point in saying anything at all. His stomach gurgled and he moaned out loudly, lips parting and closing over and over again, though there was no point at all in stating just how uncomfortable his hugely bloated belly made him, hind end wiggling and waving as Fluttershy turned him down a little, his face pointing up while his back end dropped. That should have been the biggest clue for him as to what was coming next but, still licking the remnants of milk from his lips, Arctic was a fool to ignore what his gut told him.

Of course, the punishment was coming and Arctic would not anticipate that eagerly at all as Fluttershy took a step back, all fours hooves moving, levelling and toying with the bullwhip between her front hooves. Whether in her hooves, aided by earth pony dexterity, or in her mouth, it was a formidable tool at the best of times and this one was the worst of it as she frowned darkly. To have a pet that went and got off without her permission was an abomination and, oh, she simply would not stand for it!

Maybe a little bit of Rarity was rubbing off on her.

“Don’t cry, pet,” she said with a sadistic smile that he did not see, levelling the bullwhip at the perfect height. “You do know how I hate that and it’ll only earn you...extra.”

His ears pricked. Extra? Wings flapping, instinct took over and he fought to get away but he had locked himself neatly in place, his stomach proving better bondage than any ropes or cuffs ever could have. Although he was not as large as he had been when he had been at the peak of guzzling down the milk like a drinking-slut, he could just about wiggle his legs though they were nowhere near reaching the floor, his mistress handling his huge belly as deftly as she would a much larger creature, one of the animals, perhaps, in her care.

There was nothing caring however about the hiss of the whip flying through the air, a sound that he knew all too well, squealing even before it connected with his backside. It was not the largest of targets right there and then but her aim rang true and he howled out brokenly, head hanging, trying to retain some sense of himself as pain exploded. The problem with a bullwhip was that it gave him too much time to think about the next strike, Fluttershy needing to fling it back and then throw it forward, cracking it at just the right moment to strike him. It took finesse to bring such a sense of art to the forefront of everything, much less in the heat of sordidly kinky passion, but his mistress had that all in spades, eyes narrowed in dark concentration.

That was no comfort to Arctic, however, as he heaved and panted, sweating up instantly as his flanks darkened, the patch between his legs foaming with a thicker swathe of sweat. As much as he squirmed, he could not cool down enough to be comfortable, each and every last of the bullwhip bringing a fresh rise of heat and screaming pain to his body. Calming down right there and then simply was not in the realm of possibility and all he could do was try to forget how it made his balls ache all the more strongly. No matter how many times he got off, he was always needy for her, regardless of the fact that neither whips nor pain play had ever been his “thing”. It was a punishment well and truly, screams and squeals breaking from his lips, but his body had been conditioned too, day in and day out in her service, to react sexually, and thus his cock throbbed as if his body thought it was going to get a reward rather than the continuing punishment.

Fluttershy grunted and shook her head, setting the whip aside with greater care than she treated her pet. His belly was too big, the greedy slut-pony, wobbling and shifting all over the place. Her strikes were not even in a straight line! But she had something to help with that, even though she had hoped to keep her pony-pet fat and wobbling on a grossly inflated and distended stomach for at least a little while longer. Maybe that, however, would come back in time if she had her way about it. And Mistress Shy always got her way.

“Here.”

She forced his head up and tipped the potion into his mouth without ceremony, rubbing his throat to make sure that he swallowed too. Treating him as dispassionately as she would an object, Fluttershy pursed her lips and stepped back, Arctic’s stomach churning, sinking, slipping down and down and down until it was a little more manageable. The spell that the potion triggered must have been something to reduce the effect of over-indulgence, he thought dimly, his backside stinging, though that was nothing in comparison to what was to come still, knowing that she most certainly was not giving him the potion out of the goodness of her heart by any means.

Glaring, she jerked her head.

“Stand and present!”

He could only obey, sobbing and turning his back end to her, knowing what was coming next. His ears and wings drooped sadly to be so punished, belly pushing him up onto the tips of his hooves, but there was nothing else at all for Arctic to do but bear through her wrath, knowing too that his mistress enjoyed it. If he thought about that, maybe the pain would not be so much, squeezing tears from the corners of his eyes as his conditioned and well-trained body reacted, cock throbbing, oozing out drop after drop of thickly luscious pre-cum that, as always, was set to go to waste.

“You can scream all you like, pet, but you know you have to take it. Be a good pony now and stand for me, won’t you?”

It was all a play on control, Fluttershy commanding him with a sugary-sweet tone that Arctic could not help but obey, his pale coat showing up the strikes of the lashes nicely, although the welts did not break through to bleed. No, his mistress knew more than well enough just how to cause enough pain to keep him on the edge for a long, long time and, of course, without causing permanent injury either. She’d said something about liking how well his body healed up afterwards and there were always plenty of potions from Zecora too to make sure that his body was always primed for a beating, if so required.

It was not only the bullwhip that she’d brought, tiring of using that tool and cradling a specially designed paddle in her hoof, a loop and cuff around her fetlock ensuring that it stayed in place. That was a wider, flatter striking surface and Arctic howled as it cracked down over several welts at once, turning their presence into a sharp burst of pain that ripped through him like nothing else had ever before.

“So much profit wasted, pet,” she hissed. “So much loss. Do you know what you’ve done?”

For it may have been kinky to find him as she had, grossly bloated, fat and heavy, but there were the practicalities to consider too. She’d sent him down to the farm to make money and do a job – not satisfy his desires! Such a transgression could not be passed over without the proper gravity attributed to it as she paddled his backside and the backs of his legs, though not lower than the hocks, to cover the greatest area possible. It rendered him raw and ready, too sensitive for the more that she would give him anyway, for the next round, finally taking the flogger with multiple, braided tails in her mouth, a smirk almost making it impossible to hold the implement.

That could be wielded deftly and Arctic knew exactly what she had changed to as the tails wrapped skilfully around his hind end, stinging the sides of his hips. It was a bite like nothing else and he stamped and howled, the pegasus pony’s wings hanging with the sheer force of will that it took to keep himself upright right there and then. He had to bear through it, stay steadfast, take his punishment, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes and rolling down his cheeks, the weight of what he had done crashing over him. It was wrong, so very wrong, and it was up to his mistress to show him just how wrong, the gravity of it bearing down and down and down, his soul gasping and contorting for air.

It was easy to blur out the pain after a while, breathing hard and heavy, trying his very best not to shift his weight around too much. He had to stay still, even had to keep his tail flagged for her command, all so that it was easier for her to beat him, to punish him, to break him down once more into an even better of the loyal pet that she loved too, in her own way. Mistress Shy giggled wickedly and he braced a moment before the lashes struck true, cracking across his overly sensitive tail hole as she ripped a shrill shriek from his lips, that pain fresh and sharp and blisteringly searing, cutting through to the quick of his being.

Harder though was the necessity of ignoring his throbbing cock, balls aching and churning, only producing more and more cum with the tenacity of orgasm. Usually, she locked a ring around his cock or some other contraption that meant that he was forced through climax after climax with his seed either flowing back into his body via his mouth or tail hole or simply backed right up into his nuts, forcing them to inflate as grossly and hugely as his stomach had. To cum freely was a freedom not afforded to submissive pony-pets like him and Arctic panted heavily, wings fluttering, straining to bear through, the strange edge of pain and pleasure driving his cock to pound and pulse as if he was on the edge of orgasm right there and then. The strain of his stomach didn’t help any either, though the milk had to go somewhere and, truly, his bladder had been more than a little full for a while, as much as he held the need to “go” back.

He blinked dully, lifting his head, breath rasping through his throat, scraping at his lungs. The pain was still there but it wasn’t as “bad” as it had been, lingering and burning, the rising welts feeling quite as if they were searing through his back end to his innards. Yet they would heal as they had every time before and he had nothing at all to worry about when it came to longer-lasting injuries from his mistress, for Fluttershy knew better than anyone else in Ponyville how to best look after him at all times.

“There now, pet...”

She soothed him gently, a lighter edge to their relationship coming into play as he gulped and whimpered and did all he could to hold back his shops. The end of punishment was almost as bad as going through it to begin with, though Mistress Shy was far from merciless, caring for him in her own way, her own special way, as some ponies may have put it when they did not understand the nuances of such power play relationships. Fluttershy stroked his mane and encouraged him to lean into her, though there was still more work to do on the farm, while she had not quite anticipated needing to punish him while she had only been out there checking in on his work.

“You have a lot to get done. Are you up to the task, pet?” She asked him seriously, tipping his muzzle so that he was forced to look her in the eyes, as much as that terrified him. “Will you please me? Will you be a good pony-pet for your mistress?”

Yes, oh, yes, oh, yes! The words flowed from his lips in a garbled babble, the submissive, broken stallion throwing himself on the ground at her hooves. He kissed them over and over, nuzzling against her, his cock throbbing up against his stomach but all but forgotten in the pleasure of being right there where he belonged, even the background tease of lingering pain flaring up in such a way that it only made him feel lower than ever before in the best of ways. She stood over him, the goddess and mistress of his life, the tag at his throat weighing more heavily than ever, reminding him of his place in life and at her hooves, always and forever, without any question in the matter.

Above him, Fluttershy smiled, brushing his forelock from his face with one tender hoof. That was better. And he looked better still with the red, glaring welts marking his backside, tail still flagged luxuriously for her attention to expose the thickly puckered bud of his tail hole where it was tucked up close beneath the velvety dock. She shivered. Maybe she would make use of that a little later...

“Now, you’ll need to tend to the animals here,” she said sternly, nodding out the door. “The barn is next to the milking parlour and some of the cows have their own stables too. They prefer their privacy and this farm caters for everyone and their individual needs. You must pay attention to them, pet, or I will be sorely disappointed with you. Do you want to make me disappointed?”

Not trusting himself to speak, he shook his head quickly, hooves skittering on the floor, head hanging. She smiled.

“Better... But not your best. See that you get started there. There’s all that you’ve broken and let whip about in the milking parlour too to sanitise when you have the animal care in hoof, so do not let me catch you slacking off when there’s so much left to do.”

Arctic wasted not a moment more of time, her time being more valuable, most certainly, than his had ever been. Swallowing hard, the stallion did his best to trot from the milk storage shed at a brisk clip but the welts throbbed deep, affecting the muscle beneath the surface, and it was hard to pick up his hind hooves without dragging his toes, blue tail flying behind as she watched him leave. He could only imagine what she was thinking of doing to his hind end at that very moment in time and the thought of what his mistress could and would do to him at the drop of a hat filled him with equal amounts trepidation and anticipation, neither one overruling the other.

The barn shimmered softly in a golden ray of sunlight teasing through the skylights between the rafters, motes of dust swirling in a natural glow. Musty and sweet with animal odours and straw, it was where the cows could come to rest out of the glare of sunshine and get away from the flies, relaxing and conversing, their only obligation to the farm being the milk that they exchanged for comfort and somewhere where they could call home. It was not a bad trade in the slightest, although he knew too that there were some cows closer to home back in Ponyville that lived like ponies did, although they had the trouble of needing to be milked more often too, their bodies naturally producing it whether or not they had had a calf or not. Such was the magic of Equestria but it at least meant that the relationship between pony and creature, in that case, was intact and mutually beneficial in the simplest and easiest of ways.

Some of the cows tittered and eyed him up as if they had known what had happened to him. But, of course – his welts! They had risen on his hind end well and truly, even though Arctic did not dare crane his neck to see just how bad they were. The pain was enough, coursing through his muscles with every step, a little catch in his breath showing quite clearly how he had to expend more effort simply to move. Still, he had a job to do and had to hold his head high through it all, showing in no uncertain terms that he was more than proud to be her pet regardless of any punishment that he deserved at her hooves.

“Your mistress show you what for then?” A black cow giggled, winking at him cheekily, her long lashes fluttering. “Moooooo! She must have really got you good there, dearie!”

Arctic smiled politely, despite how his cheeks burned. He may have been snarkier and cheekier at other times but having his mistress on-site at the farm with him made him want to behave all the better for her, tail clamped down to protect what little modesty he had left as he trotted along the line of feed troughs. Those seemed like the obvious choice to replenish first of all, though it was a little more difficult to move still as the potion continued working through his system, shrinking his belly but not able, it seemed, to get it back to its normal size. Without adding chub to his hind end or any other part of his body, his stomach bloated out, wobbling with every step as if he was pregnant with far more than a single foal, demonstrating his greed in the most visceral of visual manners.

There...

Grain. That was what the cows liked in their barn and he made sure that the troughs were full to the brim, some of the bovines murmuring their quiet appreciation to him as they lipped and picked through the grain for the choicest bits. The water troughs gave him pause, though the cows were quite good at ensuring that those were topped up as they pleased, the farmhands simply there to serve as a sort of fresh food delivery service as and when needed. It was not, after all, that the grain troughs would ever run dry but the cows had several requests that they wanted brought to them the following day while he went to the shopping district for them, market stalls only having half of what they wanted.

“Fresh oats!”

“Oooh – and barley!”

“Add a copy of “Moo Daily” to the list, dearie.”

“A bag of apples.”

“A parasol for the field, pony, from Rarity’s boutique.”

The farm had a budget for providing for their needs but Arctic was not quite sure that covered wares from Rarity’s boutique, despite that he was not at all against going there. The mare had gotten him bound and broken on his knees on more than one occasion, sending a shudder of trepidation through him, the taste of her rising to his lips even then. As a unicorn, Rarity was the most capable of wielding tools of pain and impact play and, well, that was not often a very good thing for Arctic as she borrowed him too from time to time to act as a fetish model for her “after dark” lines of attire, best showing off all that she had to supply to the horny masses.

Regardless, he would try to get all that the cows needed within his ability, moving on to check that the lights worked for them, that they had enough bedding of their chosen materials, whether straw or blankets or whatever they desired, that was fresh and clean. Replenishing the banks of straw where the cows lay down communally was easy and they mooed their appreciation as he made them higher than before, ensuring that they always had somewhere soft to rest their heads, although the stallion would not have personally have wanted to lie down in straw for any length of time.

There were parts of the barn that needed clearing out too, less pleasant chores, but the cows were as intelligent as ponies, of course, relieving themselves in designated toileting areas that were accessed through another door of the barn, set away so that they could maintain their dignity and be allowed the privacy of such creatures. Of course, the less intelligent but still wickedly smart critters such as chickens and pigs needed looking after too, their lack of speech not holding them back even in the smallest of ways from getting their needs across to him. Cleaning the chicken coops (protection from foxes more than to keep them locked in and prisoner) was not an activity that he enjoyed but he dragged the wheelbarrow down with a harness locked around his waist, the collar of the yoke around his neck ensuring that it did not slip back out of place.

Strange...

Arctic rolled his shoulders back, mane clinging to the less than proud arch of his neck with sweat, though he had picked up more than enough dirt on his coat too, hooves so filthy that he didn’t doubt that Rarity would screech and faint if she saw him. Muddy and grimy, he was a true farm-pony, laughing at himself even as he refreshed the nesting areas for the chickens and checked for eggs, gathering them all up in a second basket as he’d been told too. Holding it in his mouth was not the easiest of tasks when he was also hauling a barrow and he picked up more crud in his coat as he leaned into his task. The wicker of the basket tasted funny but it was not a taste that he could put his hoof on in any way, trying to shake it off and not think about it, even though that was difficult enough as he tried to work through the tried and tested tasks as quickly as possible.

On to the milking parlour, he flinched and winced at the mess he’d left behind, even though every cow had been milked. He could not honestly regret guzzling down so much milk though he did feel bad, as Fluttershy had impressed on him, about the loss of profit that would result from it, even though Fluttershy would surely hire him out again in some way to make up for that. Whereas he didn’t quite know what or how to feel about his body being a saleable commodity to kinkier ponies, he knew that a wrong would be righted one way or another.

It was a big job, hoses hanging down and the milking machines not even in a straight line, the stocks knocked over where the cows could slip in to be milked, milk trickles on the floor too that would need to be cleaned up before the heat of the day brought them to a reek. Arctic wrinkled his muzzle, though it did not seem necessary as yet to clean himself off with the sheer amount of cleaning and sanitising he had to do, starting with the machines that would be needed first as he set some of the stalls up along the way too. The whole floor could be hosed off afterwards with sanitising solution, he reasoned with himself, as that, at least, would make his job a little easier in that regard.

It was tedious work but he should have known that Fluttershy would not have accepted anything else after she had found, clearly, of the destruction of his inflating accident in there. She did not know that it had been an accident and had not asked the question of him either but he knew his mistress was more than smart enough to duly make the punishment fit the crime, whether or not he thought he was responsible for that one.

Slow work, hard work: Arctic’s back ached as the pegasus stretched out his wings, flapping them to release tension. It was a big parlour and a lot of work for one stallion to take on but it was not as if he could stop the job when he was in the middle of it. Fluttershy would surely have him working late into the night if a job needed to be done and he was not about to complain when it was, indeed, him that had created the mess. Working his way down the line, he laid the hoses out to dry as he went, perfectly clean for the next cows to use. Yet he did not know that that time was coming up more quickly than he’d thought, one milking a day nowhere near enough for the productive nature of the dairy cows...

“Moo...”

To be continued in part two...

Chapter Two

A Pony’s Inflation
Part Two

Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)
Commissioned by anonymous

Continued from part one.

The cows stopped dead in the entrance to the milking parlour, eyes wide and staring.

“What on earth happened in here?” One bellowed, stamping her hooves. “It’s time for our afternoon milking!”

Quailing, Arctic gulped, trying to make himself as small and insignificant as possible, hunching into the floor. As much as he tucked his wings around himself, his belly squashed out to the sides as they loomed angrily, the cows wanting to be milked, their udders fat and swollen in the expected way with no relief to be found immediately.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, averting his gaze, trembling before the larger creatures, even though he was quite big as he was for a stallion too. “It’s... There was an accident... The hoses...”

The bovine snorted and shoved her wet nose into his face, demanding that he look at her. Though she was coarser and cruder, a roughness to her brown muzzle, there was a dominance about her too that made him more than weak at the knees.

“That will not dooo!” She bellowed, snorting and stomping. “What did you do? Why can we not be relieved? This is why we are here, this is our deal!”

“I shall explain.”

Fluttershy stood behind him, Arctic whimpering and quailing. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t tell them the truth of why they were so uncomfortable, though it seemed that she was going to do it anyway. The cows stood to attention, perhaps recognising a more dominant, in-charge soul in Fluttershy than the pegasus stallion had offered them.

“He seems to have a thirst for your milk, ladies, I’m so terribly sorry... The main container is out of service at the moment and I have a repair-pony coming to fix it with due haste, although there does not seem to be a back-up on site. The small ones will not chill your milk enough to keep it fresh and we wouldn’t want to waste it either after all the work you ladies have put into keeping it fresh and ready.”

The cows nodded in agreement, rumbling and mooing lowly.

“Yes, so much work.”

“Hard work.”

“Needs to make it right.”

“We still need to be milked!”

Fluttershy’s smile would have sent chills through her pony-pet if he’d looked up but, truly, he didn’t need to. His body was due to be hired out in such a way that the cows would be kept entertained for a good, long time without any problems resulting from their lack of milking. After all, there were plenty of milking machines and hoses remaining, nicely sanitised, even though the milk could not be transported or stored for the time being...

“In that case,” Fluttershy said with a half-smile, eyes light and kind, “please feel free to make use of my pony-pet to relieve your udders in any way you need. He should have been under the proper supervision but the cleaned and sanitised machines should suffice for the moment.”

She stepped back with a chuckle and Arctic shrieked – though both of their cries were lost in the stampede of cloven hooves, every last one of the cows eager to have their grossly swollen, ballooning udders relieved first of all. There was nothing to hold them back as Mistress Shy had given them the best permission of all, letting them charge him and drag him out into the centre of the parlour, pinning him back on the floor with the weight of their bodies, legs bent as they held him in place.

Arctic’s head spun, crying out for help that would not cum as his tail thrashed, flicking back and forth, his balls woefully on show with his back pressed to the floor. There was nowhere for him to go and, again, it mattered not that there was no bondage currently present to lash him in place, the welts on his hindquarters searing through with pain as he was forced to put weight on them, grunting and heaving, eyes wide and wild. They didn’t care that he was just there to work on the farm, their needs coming above all else when it was milking time, the largest and bulkiest of the black cows pressing her udders to his lips with a devilish grin.

“If you like milk so much, why don’t you drink straight from the source!”

Arctic could have simply not done it, waited for his mistress to force him, yet he was already salivating, his mouth wet and his lips shiny with a glimmer of moisture. He wouldn’t have been a slutty pony-pet if he’d had absolutely any capacity to take care of his own needs and he had his lips locked around a teat in a moment, moaning luxuriously as he took as much pleasure from the first droplet of milk hitting his tongue as the cow above him did for the relief of it all.

“Ohhh...” She moaned out lightly, rolling her head back and forth, calming a little. “That’s better... You don’t realise how pent up we ladies get when it’s milking time! This is just the way that you can make sure we’re taken care of.”

“Consider it part of your work, pet.”

He would have to for there was nothing else for him as needier, angrier cows crowded in around him, grunting and clamouring for attention, all wanting to be first to be milked. They all needed it even more than he needed to suckle down every last drop of their milk, taking two teats between his lips at once as his cheeks filled with an overload of milk, doing all he could to suck the black cow, first of all, dry of every last drop she had to give.

It was a strange sensation to have teats in his mouth as he had only before suckled from a mare’s udders, though the cows were just like a pony in terms of demanding what they wanted and he was a stallion who loved the ladies. If he didn’t think too much about what he was doing his cock would not push out on show but that was a mission that he simply could not hope to succeed in as another grossly inflated udder, filled to the brim with creamy milk, teased up against his muzzle, the black cow slipping away in a skitter of hooves on the slick floor to let another take her place. They were thick and almost rubbery, though a light indent at the tip where his tongue poked and probed allowed the milk to flow forth, although it was so tiny that it would have taken a close look to find it if he did not already know, of course, just what udders were for.

Yet two cows were not the end of it as he was used and abused, other cows crowding over him and grinding their udders down over his swelling cock, his sexual fervour impossible to ignore. He was turned on, perhaps more than he had ever been before – but it always felt like that in the high of such pleasure, losing himself in a moment as he sank back into that sweet sense of submission that was always home to him. He was there to serve them, to be a good pony-pet, just like Fluttershy wanted him to be: that was all he had to do.

Of course, all of that milk had to go somewhere and he groaned as his belly filled, bearing down on his orgasm even as it rose up and up and up. It was a slower inflation than what he could have said that he was a little more used to but Arctic’s wriggles weren’t getting him anywhere as the cows teased and rubbed against his cock and stomach, everyone clamouring for position and leaving milky trails in the wake of their teats. Their udders could not, after all, contain their milk forever and it had to come out sooner or later even though he could only suck the milk from one udder at a time. They just could not quite press in close enough for him to get two at once, their size, in that instance, prohibitive while there was little flexibility in their bulky, milking bodies.

However, the cows had other things in mind as they prodded at his bloated, swelling stomach, showing them exactly where all of their milk was going. It was, at the very least, a little bit of a distraction from how needy and full their udders were and they needed all of the distractions they could get as their heaving udders wobbled and swayed, leaking milk everywhere with the absolute fullness of them, bursting to be milked. Other parts of his body were left woefully untended to, after all, and his cock throbbed and pulsed, his need rising, Mistress Shy not giving him any direction at all as to what he was allowed to do or not. It left him on the edge while the cows toyed with him, pushing him further, prodding his swollen cock as if they thought that it was another part of him that could be used for milking too, even though, of course, Arctic’s shaft was for far more pleasurable activities than that and a different kind of milking entirely.

He lost himself in pleasing those fat, rubbery teats, the need to cum growing more and more, knowing that he was going to disappoint her and not knowing still what on earth he could do to stop that from happening. Arctic whimpered and squirmed but his cock jerked and throbbed with blood, twitching up from his belly as it was pushed out of the way, so much milk churning in his stomach that he doubted very much that he could have stood up right there and then even if he’d been ordered to. He was so close, so very close, and all he could see around him was the many bodies of the cows taking advantage of him, not even sure whether his mistress was there or not. In a way, Arctic doubted that she was for she usually had a hoof in how other females, whether they were pony mares or something else, dominated him, leaving him entirely at the mercy of the bullying cows who only needed him and his body for one thing.

Yet orgasm was coming and he neighed out in a splatter of thick, creamy milk as his cock throbbed, pulsing viciously as every tension and pain in his body roared to stringent life, making a mess all over his stomach, inflating more and more as he took another cow’s teats into his lips, that time managing to get three shoved into his mouth at once. It was something to concentrate on, at least, and more than enough to distract himself while the cows took liberty of their new freedom in abusing and using him to the very best of their ability, smirks and chuckles crowding around as his tail was tugged to the side out of the way.

At the point of orgasm, spilling cum messily all over his stomach and nuts as it trickled back, he gasped and twisted, something shoving up under his tail. It was not expected and he’d only relaxed somewhat back there due to climax exploded, spilling a creamy load of seed everywhere while his most intimate of areas was rudely stretched open. It was not a part of his body that he wanted to be penetrated at the best of times but the cows did not give him any choice as they shoved a hose in deep before he was ready and without lube, catching the scar and making him squeal even as he grunted and whimpered, the pain blurred with the edge of so much else that it was, to be thankful for it, fleeting.

There was no respite, however, as his tail hole washed through with a warm substance, Arctic blinking and trying to buck his hips, cock throbbing, not even softening. He didn’t need Mistress Shy’s cock rings and contraptions to stay hard after climaxing the once and the cows took full advantage of that, toying with his cock and grinding their udders along his fat length while they could, his belly rising, as big as a beach ball and growing more and more. For what they pumped into his tail hole was milk from the cow that had been hooked up to the milking machine, using it in the best of ways with the cups sucking lightly on her udders, milking her far more efficiently and quickly than poor Arctic could do with his lips and mouth alone. Though, the cows would have argued, that was a more pleasurable way to go about things too...

He was at their whim, pinned and used, his body theirs to toy with just as they pleased. And the swollen pony could not do a single thing about it as he whimpered and squirmed, the pony fighting it even though it felt good in a strange, pushing sort of way, his bodily needs taken over by larger beings that were more than simply keen to see just how far they could push things. Milking themselves directly into his tail hole resulted in his stomach pushing up more and more, bloating out, so large that it was almost impossible to see the pony beneath it already, though the cows pressed into it, squashing it aside, just so that they could get to his mouth to relieve themselves too.

Up and up and up: there was no end to the swelling of his stomach, splattered with milk as his coat remained grimy and dirty, everything that he had to give them on show while he was prey to the larger creatures’ needs. Arctic moaned around another pair of teats, lost in the moment, head spinning, the use of his body sending him into a deep state of submission, skin prickling with every last flutter of sensation down to a trickle of milk, left there by a needy pair of udders. Everything stood out to him, his mind flitting from one thing to the next, tail hole clenching down on the hose inadvertently, even though he could not have found the willpower in himself either to push it out even if he’d wanted to. It just wasn’t happening, not with the cows holding him there, filling his belly more and more and more as it spilt to the sides of his body, weightier than ever.

Of course, his cock would not possibly be allowed to continue making such a mess of the parlour, the cows not wanting to be blamed for the actions of the pony that they had been given liberty of. No, if anyone was getting in trouble for them being pleased in strange and unconventional ways it was Arctic and be damned with the consequences! The cows had not had such fun with him that they were going to let him go yet, of course, and that meant that his cock would have to be dealt with.

Presenting a thinner, more rigid hose to the tip of his cock, a demanding beast with a brown and white patterned hide and a demanding gleam in her eye barged over him, pressing his belly out of the way so that he was forced to look at what she was doing. The milking machine was standard and the container more than enough to be getting on with, though Arctic’s heart skipped a beat when he saw just where she was, his vision still half-crowded with demanding tickles of teats.

The cow smirked ominously.

“Got to empty these if we’re going to fill them again...”

The cows tittered even as Arctic gasped, milk trickling down his chin.

“No! Please!” He had to beg even as the cow above him crushed her udders down against his muzzle. “Don’t! Those are just for my mistress, she’ll be angry with me if you do that!”

But the cows only laughed at him, feeding the tube down his cock, penetrating his urethra all the way down into his balls and sliding it in where it nestled in the waiting mass of cum. As much as Arctic squirmed, he wasn’t getting out of that situation in a hurry, grunting and squealing even as he tried to drink down as much milk as possible still. If he was quick and did the job that Fluttershy had wanted him to do with the cows, maybe things would not be so bad for him. He wasn’t trying to get into any kind of trouble, even though that seemed like just what they were intent on doing to him!

He had to bear through it though, the pain of his hind end and the welts that still would not fade for days teasing through, an edge that contradicted the pleasure of all else when he wanted to focus on it the most. Yet the machine churned to life and he howled out his horror as they drained his balls straight from the source into the milking machine container, though his nuts, of course, worked overtime simply to replenish all that was lost and more as quickly as it was stripped from him. That nuance of his body, however, was not something that the cows were privy too, one thing after the other crashing in as they used his body in every possible way that they could think of.

“There now...”

They were soothing but he wasn’t buying it as a tail slapped against his muzzle, a cunny pressing to his lips. He had to respond and he moaned out loud as she slipped his tongue into the cow, lapping at her folds, different to that of a pony but still all the same to a stallion-slut like him who was only ever destined to serve. He had to do it, had to take his mind off the odd pressure of his balls draining and re-filling at the same time, lungs working hard just to keep going, the weight of his stomach dominating all. It was almost a sentient entity too as it gurgled and rumbled with a mind of its own, the volume of milk churning and splashing within his guts more than any normal pony body could contain. But it had been set in stone so very long ago that Arctic was far from a normal pony in any sense of the term, even as a pegasus.

His balls ached as they were drained, the “magic” or whatnot of his body working hard to refill them over and over again. It was not any real magic, no more, of course, than what allowed pegasus ponies to fly in the land of Equestria and beyond, but it was a feature of both his body and his psyche that he was over productive, his nuts aching, churning, even feeling as if they were vibrating as the cows milked more and more cum from him. Dimly, as he sank his muzzle into the cunny of another eager cow, the first’s orgasm painting his muzzle in the wake of her, he was aware that they were swapping out the containers, though he filled them so quickly as his orgasm flowed forth without any pleasure that they may as well have hooked him up to the main tank and container.

Everything blurred, the sharply noticeable sensations from earlier coming out into stark relief as he twisted and groaned under the weight of his stomach bearing down on him. A cow mooed as she bucked and humped onto his tongue, using him as a living sex toy (much like the rest of Equestria seemed to) for her pleasure. Her clit received an ample tongue-lashing from the helpless stallion and she climaxed noisily, stomping and humping, her back even taking on a light rounding to the extent that her spine was able to do that. Though not even Arctic could have expected her to spread her legs and let out a soft sigh of relief that did not seem in tune with her orgasm at all.

“Ahhh...”

And then it hit him: a hot spatter of urine flowed down his face as he coughed and reeled yet had nowhere to go. Even if the cows were not crowding in around him, he could not have moved, spluttering and gasping, trying to flail and succeeding in no way, shape or form. She relieved herself casually on his muzzle as if it was the most normal thing in the world but Arctic most certainly did know that it was not normal for them to be so casual about relieving themselves. No, that was all deliberate and he would have seen a subtle smile on the cow’s face, teats wobbling, as she ground back on his face just to smear her piss into his coat and debase the stallion all the more.

His stomach gurgled, filled with more and more milk from under his tail, his wanton hole tense around it as his muscles rang taut with thick knots and lines of tension. He didn’t have to be drinking the milk down for it to flow straight into his stomach with his tail hole still squeezing down, his pony doughnut as tense as ever. Arctic turned his face away and moaned as a new cow bore down on his face, though she did not seem to care about having her sexual needs taken care of, her udders already soft and milked; perhaps she had used the milking machine that funnelled the milk into his anal passage and deeper still already? It didn’t matter though as he groaned, a stream of piss flooding his face, though she took greater care to cover his forelock and some of his mane too, forcing the long, soft hair to cling to his neck, sodden and reeking, the stanching cloying at his nostrils.

His balls throbbed but not in orgasm, the hose and the machine pulling his seed from him with a strange, sucking sensation that was not quite like a climax but left him needier than ever. Despite cum being pulled from him like milk from teats, the needy throb of his balls remained, a pulse that was not in time with his heart beat but the rhythm of his nuts refilling, moaning out loud even as he suckled on a teat, taking more and more milk straight down into his stomach.

The machine went on, pumping and coaxing his cum from him, the throb of orgasm grinding through him like a dull ache without any of the pleasure. The milking could have gone on for hours, just like that, but the cows were impatient, grinding on him, talking amongst themselves as to whether or not they thought he could be even more productive than their bull. Well, there was only one way to find that out and storing his cum through the milking machine was not the way that they wanted to do it, although that seed could be set aside for later filling too.

The hose was removed in a tasteless yank, leaving his urethra strained and gaping with the slit at the tip bulging out slightly, though he was not harmed. Arctic blinked blearily, wobbling on his huge stomach, milk churning within him, though that could not have possibly overruled the lustful pleasure coursing through, thrumming up as the cows slathered his cock with their tongues, pussies and udders, all wanting a go on him as if Arctic was a ride that they could not get enough of.

It was too much for the stallion even in the first few minutes, nickering and whinnying out his climax as orgasm burst unbridled from his balls, the churning orbs pumping and forcing out all that they could. The pleasure proved a nice juxtaposition to the pain, ecstasy coursing through, yet he knew that his mistress would be disappointed in him for climaxing yet again without her permission. It was hard to feel too bad about that, however, with such ecstasy bringing a tingling rise to the nerve-endings at the base of his mane, grunting and whining, letting them grind him off straight into a second climax.

So much cum poured from him that it slopped straight into the mud, the cows murmuring and making comments about him, how big his cock was, though none of them seemed brave enough to take him inside them right then. Maybe that was something that they could save for another day, their passageways designed to take a bull-cock rather than a stallion-cock, though they were sure with enough cum to lubricate the way that there would be no real issue. Arctic was not a part of those conversations, however, a passive player even while he was the centre of attention, moaning and whimpering, the steady stream of pre-cum never stopping while he was driven into a third orgasm.

It was almost painful to be forced to cum after so long denied but Arctic didn’t have much of a choice in that matter, panting heavily, dragging as much air into his lungs while he was still forced to please the cows, piss and orgasmic juices coating his muzzle. It was not a mixture that he would have recommended to anyone, befuddling his senses, but his ball ached and ached, closer and closer to being drained as the bovines laughed and mocked and took every liberty with him that they could have possibly have thought of.

He must have been up to five or six climaxes by the time his tail finally fell limp, no longer able to even flag in the broken triumph of climaxing. He moaned helplessly but barely found that he even had the strength to hold his head up, his cock milked and balls drained, at least for the time being, of all that they had to give.

But that was exactly what the cows wanted from him. Having emptied his nuts, they relished the opportunity to make use of an empty vessel, hooking him back up to the machine even as his nuts worked away at refilling themselves at a slower pace, although, for the immediate moment, he was drained. A pale-coated cow tapped her hoof on a machine that he did not quite recognise and had not paid all that much attention to as it was full of a creamy, white fluid in the clear container. Surely milk?

Little did Arctic know that it was far from milk...

To be continued in the final part, part three.

Chapter Three

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.