Overwhelmed and Overthrown

Standing before the counter, adorned in a snug polo and pair of jeans, Sombra nonchalantly browsed the impulse items by the register. Travel sized bottles of lube, gift cards, condoms in various sizes, and mints lay neatly arrayed in a number of trays, but they weren’t what he was there for. Glancing over at the adult novelty shop employee, just as she finished ringing up his items, he smiled.

“Anything else?” the mare chipperly responded, gazing up at him.

“I’m afraid that will be all for today, thank you,” he intoned, preemptively fishing into his pants to retrieve his wallet.

“That’ll be one hundred and thirty two bits,” she chirped.

Handing over his card, Sombra sighed. He hadn’t intended on hemorrhaging that sort of capital on such a frivolous purchase, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Taking the opaque black back from the employee’s hands, after signing the receipt, he nodded farewell and saw himself out.

Hopping on one of the many buses that ran through town, he found himself back at his apartment complex in less than twenty minutes. One of the few benefits of living in a larger city was that nearly everything was accessible via public transit, allowing him to procure whatever he needed with relative ease. He had been saving up to get a car for himself, if only to make things a bit more convenient, which exacerbated his frustration with spending his hard earned money.

Casually strolling up to his unit and letting himself inside, he locked the door behind himself. Though the chances of anyone coming to pay him a visit were extraordinarily slim, the last thing he wanted was for anyone to see what he was about to do. Moving to the bed, he neatly arrayed the items he’d bought and studied them each in turn.

The first items, assorted within a clear plastic case, were a series of differently sized butt plugs; each was larger than the last, with the biggest being nearly two inches wide. Next up was a bottle of spare lube, which would eventually be used for some endeavor or another. Lastly, and most shamefully, was an average dildo - average in that it was substantially shorter and less girthy than his own colossal stallionhood. Despite its relatively humble dimensions, it would get the job done.

Considering he had slightly less than two weeks to prepare for his rematch with Tack, agreeing to meet the stallion in a contest of carnal prowess, he needed to prepare himself. Only a few short days ago, he’d been topped by the modestly sized lad and, much to his disgrace, been thoroughly rutted into submission. Swearing vengeance, with the promise of double or nothing odds, he’d challenged his slender nemesis to a second confrontation.

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t stoop so low as to buy paltry sex toys or marital aids - for heaven’s sake, he was a walking sex machine - but, sadly, he knew what needed to be done. His encounter with Tack had been profoundly demeaning, catching him ill prepared for the rutting he had received - as such, he would do everything in his power to prepare himself for their impending clash. He would not lose a second time...

Ferrying his purchases into the restroom, he made ready for the first of many trials. Fetching two small cameras from under his bed, which he typically used to film his exploits with fans and worshipers, he moved the small devices into the lavatory. It wasn’t like he wanted to record to record himself exercising his once pristine ass, yet he thought it was the best course of action.

Besides acquainting himself with having his wonderfully taut pucker used, there was the matter of his technique. Though he knew he’d be bottoming for the twink, that didn’t mean he couldn’t maintain control of the situation and dominate the lad - therefore, he would need to hone his skill to a razored edge. Once all his preparations were complete, with the toys washed, cameras tactically positioned in and beside the bathtub, and having given himself a thorough cleaning, he steeled his resolve.

Without toweling himself off, spying himself in the large mirror above his sink, he paused. Beads of water rolled down his brawny frame, following the contours of his sculpted and superbly massive musculature. It was a shame, really - there he was, a literal Adonis, about to flagrantly debase himself by despoiling his ass. Flashing his reflection a devilish grin, he flipped the wetted mane from his face.

“Don’t worry,” he chuckled, reassuring himself, “after you win - and you will win - you’ll wreck his ass so badly that no other stallion would be able to satisfy him.”

Tapping the cameras, setting them to record, he eased himself down onto the edge of the tub. Everything was ready, with the implements of his practice resting on the floor, so there was no need to delay the inevitable. Snatching up the bottle of lube and slathering one hand in the gooey substance, he shuffled his behind backward.

With his rump hanging over the basin, he reached behind himself. It was a bit awkward, given his sheer bulk, but his digits soon delved into the cleft of his tush. Questing deeper, between his well developed buns, his efforts were soon rewarded. As he felt his silken, ebony pucker, a shiver ran up his spine.

Sombra took a measured breath and closed his eyes. Exhaling slowly, he sank his middle finger into himself. The sensation was odd, yet not nearly as intense or demoralizing as having that infernal stallion’s tool plunging into him. Discovering the feeling of being penetrated wasn’t some unfathomable weakness was reassuring, to say the least, so he continued onward.

Loosening his hole for a moment, emboldened, he sank a second digit into himself. He smiled, while he experimentally probed his interior - sure, it wasn’t like he had penetrated himself with anything too girthy, but it was hardly as mind-bendingly pleasurable or ruinous as he had anticipated. Arching his back, he delved deeper.

Only a few inches into his exploration, he inadvertently stumbled upon what had to be his point of weakness. A bolt of pleasure shot through him, as his prostate was stimulated. While he had some experience with the organ, having fingered the occasional paramour to warm them up, this was different.

Arching his back, he prodded the delicate bulb. His size and the position he’d chosen made the endeavor nearly impossible, leaving him at an impasse. He was simply too burly to easily play with himself in such an embarrassing manner; fortunately, he’d planned for such a potentiality. Withdrawing his hand, he got to his feet, bent over, and plucked the medium sized plug and dildo from the floor.

Removing his shampoo and conditioner from the inbuilt shelf in the shower, placing them on the floor, he set the sex toys down and squeezed a hefty amount of lube onto each of them. Leaning forward, while moving the slickened plug to his backside, he braced one hand against the wall. The cool, molded plastic against his backdoor wasn’t nearly as welcoming as his fingers, yet he was undeterred.

Closing his eyes, attempting to stay relaxed, he pressed the plug into himself. Having a gradual taper, with a pronounced well at its midsection, the toy wasn’t terribly difficult to manage. Unable to see his progress, the thickest portion item pressed to and into his tail hole. With an all but audible Pop, having passed the girthiest point, the remainder almost instantaneously slid into him.

Reflexively, caught unawares by the sudden intrusion, the monstrous stallion clenched his ass. The plug’s base was lodged firmly against his pucker, causing the unintentional flex of his meaty backside to send the toy directly into his prostate. His knees buckled, the breath hitched in his throat, and the barest whimper escaped him. In spite of his mental fortitude, he was not prepared for the contemptibly wave of pleasure which swept over him.

Giving himself a moment to adjust, he peered downward. As his gaze wandered over his chest, between his tremendous pecs, he froze. His enormous, semi-erect stallionhood hung before his chiseled thighs. A lone strand of pre-cum dangled from the dip of his length, languidly creeping down to the basin below. His lip curled in disdain, angry that his body would betray him.

Straightening up, with the toy trapped within his rump, he grunted in frustration. He’d only just begun, yet the insidious joy of such depravity was already tempting him. Like a damnable siren’s song, some part of him pined to do nothing more than to masturbate. Squashing the thought, he rebelliously clamped his tush around the toy.

Drawn deeper, forced against his tender p-spot, the plug sent a second jolt of bliss coursing through him. Dauntless of how banefully good it felt, the stallion flexed a second time, then a third and a fourth, until he was rhythmically working the toy in his ass. It was akin to torture, albeit a despicably enjoyable one.

Clamping his eyes shut, trying his damnedest to concentrate, he had little doubt that the pair of cameras were dutifully recording the outrageous display. Subconsciously, as if attempting to sabotage his efforts, his hand wandered up his frame. Tracing the peaks and valleys of his abs, working up towards his chest, his digits drifted to his pecs.

Without realizing it, too fixated on battering his insides with the toy, a finger grazed one obsidian nipple. Willing his body to obey, moving his arm away from his torso, he scowled. As his left hand blindly extended outward, hoping to place it on the adjacent wall, something soft and slick toppled into the tub. Cracking one eye open, wondering what he’d knocked off, his brow furrowed.

Lying in the basin was the dildo he’d set on the shelf. The damn thing virtually taunted him with its meticulously crafted silicone length and served as a reminder of his failure to be a god in all carnal affairs. Bending forward and retrieving the dong, he sneered. When, not if, he vanquished Tack, he’d be sure to leave the wicked marital aid jammed in the lad’s tush - for now, he needed the vile thing.

Reaching behind himself, grabbing hold of the plug’s base, he pulled. Wrenching the conical toy from his backside, stifling a groan as it cleared his hole, he let it fall to basin. Surely - surely he was ready to handle something a bit closer to the genuine article. He was Sombra, King of all he surveyed and an unmatched paramour of renown! With his hauteur renewed, he wetted the dildo’s suction cup base and turned.

Affixing the toy to the tiled wall behind himself, eyeballing its placement, he faced away and seized one glute in each hand. Prizing his buns apart, guided mostly by feel, he shuffled backwards. The vascular toy glided between his legs, nudging his pendulous nuts. Scrunching his snout, he readjust his positioning.

He squatted slightly, lowering his waist, before making his second attempt. His next try was met with success, leaving the dildo’s blunted tip pressed against his entrance. Steadying himself, taking a metered breath, he rocked back. The battering-ram like head ground into him with little effort, likely because of the slightly thicker dimensions of the plug he’d just used.

With the utmost care, he backed up and steadily impaled himself. Though it may not have been as broad as the other toy, the dong was nearly double the length. As his depths were filled with the silicone shaft, the resistance progressively grew. Much like an actual stallionhood, the dildo grew fatter towards the base. He shuddered, as the medial ring wormed into his confines and over his prostate. Realizing he only had an inch or so left, he tenaciously hilted the tool.

The cold touch of tile on his rump, paired with the abject feeling of fullness the dildo afforded, was a small triumph, but he was far from finished. Simply having something lodged in his backside could hardly be considered training, since there was no movement involved. Placing his hands on his knees, lest they stray to his chest or groin, his legs tensed.

Thrusting his hips, allowing a few inches to slip from his behind, he languidly began working the sculpted shaft. Gently moving forward and back, he pistoned himself on the dong. Every backward motion caused the ass to press against the wall, as he sluggishly screwed himself. As he acclimated to the sensations accosting him, the wretched feelings of delight once again found him.

Attempting to distract himself with thoughts of anything but his current situation proved fruitless. Despite his best efforts to ignore the growing warmth and tingling from deep within him, his movements quickened. Though his conscious mind was hellbent not to relish the experience, his anatomy had other plans.

His stallionhood swayed between his legs, leaking copious amounts of his pre-cum to the basin as a testament to his unwanted enjoyment. Looking around, while he humped back upon the dong, he searched for something - anything to divert his attention; this was practice and he wasn’t trying to have fun. Peeking to his right, noticing an askew towel on the nearby rack, he straightened up and reached for it; the subtle shift, while small, altered the trajectory of the dildo.

He gasped aloud, as the sensitive organ in his ass was pummeled. Acting on impulse, standing to nearly full height, he clutched the towel rack and continued rutting himself. It felt astounding, far better than the plug or his fingers, and caused his subconscious urges to wrestle control of his body away from his higher thoughts. His free hand dangled limply for a fleeting moment, before meandering up his side.

Throwing his ass back harder and faster with every passing second, a blissful fog settled over him. It was almost as if he was acting on autopilot, wantonly pumping the dong in and out of his pucker. His annoyance bled away, as did his strength of will, overwhelmed by a singular thrill welling up within him. Before he realized what he was doing, he was pinching and twisting one of his onyx black nipples.

Confused, excited, and with the fires of passion burning brighter than ever, he persisted. Unabashedly fucking himself on the toy, while he teased one teat, his motions grew frenzied. A pervasive heat spread through him, causing his legs to tremble slightly, yet he did not slow. Panting, compelled to persevere, he crossed a threshold.

Ramming himself back, jackhammering the dildo’s girthy ring over his p-spot, the world seemed to explode around him. The most marish, effeminate moan of delight slipped past his lips, as he climaxed. Though his stallionhood was far from at full mast, a veritable tsunami of seed erupted from his cock.

His toes curled, his backdoor needily convulsed around the toy, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Suffering through one of the strongest orgasms he had ever known, his existence was drowned out by pure, unrefined rapture. Desperately holding tightly to the towel rack, lest his legs fail him, he dragged air into his lungs.

The hormones raging through him slowly subsided, the ecstasy dulled to a pleasant haze, and his higher functions steadily returned. For the second time in less than a week, he’d cum without so much as touching his dick. Unsteadily stepping forward, hauling himself off the slickened shaft of silicone, he wearily peered through his bathroom door towards his wall-mounted clock.

One small consolation was that he’d lasted for longer than he had with Tack, yet he was less than pleased with his performance. If nothing else, he considered it a small accomplishment and a reassurance that he could improve his endurance. Turning on the shower and pulling the curtain, he washed the lube and spunk from himself.

With over a week left to make ready for his showdown with Tack, his confidence swelled. So long as he doggedly trained, honing his body and refining his techniques, he would surely succeed in besting the twink. Dwelling on his past defeat, and imagining how he could best make use of his soon to be subdued foe, he finished his wash down and gathered up the pair of cameras.

The remainder of his evening was spent begrudgingly reviewing the footage of himself, reading articles on how best to bottom, and scheming on what his next steps would be. Practicing in the bathroom, while convenient for cleaning up, wasn’t exactly ideal or all too realistic, so he jotted down a few notes. Since he didn’t have to work tomorrow, he planned another trip to the adult shop.

Through his studies and research, he came to the conclusion that he had two more purchases to make: a larger dildo and a weighted base to affix his toys to. He wasn’t exactly thrilled with having to spend more of his hard-earned bits, yet he felt it was necessary. Buying a phony stallionhood that was bigger than his adversary, and having a means of using it in various places around his apartment, would surely give him the edge he needed.

After many hours of investigation and reflection, as well as a simple meal, he crawled into bed for the night. Once all of this nonsense was finished, and the score was settled, he’d discard or gift his small trove of sex toys to an acquaintance - after all, it wasn’t like he’d ever willingly entertain himself with such things. Resting his head on the pillow, pondering about his future conquests, he drifted off to sleep.

…

Sadly, the former villain’s slumber wasn’t quite what he’d consider restful. Throughout the night, his dreams were plagued with all manner of licentious, wholly unwanted illusions and fantasies. Wild thoughts which his conscious mind would want no part of assailed him, seemingly from the moment he closed his eyes, although he couldn’t fathom why.

He’d dreamt of being used by countless stallions, of various sizes, in all manner of unimaginably lustful ways. Licking them, sucking them off, flagrantly displaying his ass for them to use; things that his alert self would never allow. The most troubling thing about it all wasn’t how he’d acted, nor the inconceivable physical pleasure which he derived from zealously servicing and being used by them - no, it was the fact that he loved it which haunted him.

It was almost as if the universe was conspiring against him, pushing him to embrace the role of being a bottom. Shaking his head, throwing off the covers, he went to swing his legs over the side of the bed but paused. A cool puddle of his jizz rested beside him on the sheet, clear evidence of his somnambular transgression.

Gathering up his linens and cramming them into his laundry bag, he rinsed off and got ready to start the day. Once dressed, after setting a pot of coffee to brew, he marched downstairs and started a load of laundry. His early morning, while regrettable, gave him plenty of time to tidy up before the adult shop opened. Shunting his frustrations in a more useful direction, his lamentable night bolstered his resolve.

The following hours flew by, as he cleaned his home and finished with the laundry. While the occasional musings of girthy stallionhoods stuffing his backdoor were vexing, he managed to finish up with everything before the bus was scheduled to arrive. His wait at the stop was a short one and, before he knew it, he was trundling along in one of the massive vehicles.

His trip to the shop would be quick, so he kept himself occupied with his phone. Dallying away the time, checking his social contacts and inspecting the work schedule for the upcoming week, he sighed. Someone had apparently shuffled his days around, leaving him with only the upcoming Thursday and Sunday to relax. The bit of bad luck wouldn’t affect him all that much, and it meant a bigger paycheck, but it would rob him of opportunities to develop his mind and body.

As the bus rolled to a stop, he approached the driver and offered his most charming smile. “I hate to be impolite, but could you give me just five minutes? I just need to run in for one thing, I promise,” he intoned.

The operator, a rather wizened and portly mare, immediately blushed and dismissively waved at him. “Just don’t take too long,” she snickered, peering into his crimson eyes.

“My good mare,” Sombra murmured, sweetly taking her hand and giving it the daintiest kiss, “I’ll be back in a flash.” Seeing her cheeks go a bright shade of crimson, hearing her giggle like a little filly, he briskly departed and made for the shop.

There was no need to dally, since he already knew what he needed. Jogging into the shop, snatching up the weighted base he’d seen the day before, he moved to the startling array of insertable toys. Browsing over them, looking for one which would fit the bill, he paused. There, resting at the top of the rack, had to be one of the most impressive dildos he’d ever seen.

In clear plastic case, with the name Mare Breaker emblazoned beside the price tag, it appeared to rival his endowment at full mast. Reaching up and taking the box in his grasp, he moved towards the register. Though the dong was a touch larger than what he’d intended, he was inspired; if he could master taking something comparable to his own magnificent cock, Tack’s pitiful tool would be little more than a joke.

Setting the items he’d gathered on the counter and presenting his card, he smiled cheerfully at the employee. “If you could be quick, I’d be most appreciative.”

The nondescript stallion working the register nodded, rang up his purchase, and handed him a receipt. Snatching up his purchases, without waiting for them to be bagged, he rushed back out towards the idling bus. Leaping onboard and offering a hasty thanks to the driver, he found a vacant seat for himself. He couldn’t care less what anyone thought about his somewhat impulsive acquisition, but that didn’t stop a mare sitting across the aisle from commenting on it.

“Don’t hurt yourself on that, Big Boy,” she snickered, grinning cheekily over at him.

Sombra’s temper flared, spurring him to toothy smirk in her direction. “I assure you, I’ll have no trouble,” he boastfully chuckled, setting the items on the empty seat beside himself.

The rest of his round trip was made in silence, leaving him at his apartment complex well before noon. Scampering upstairs and to his door, with his investments tucked under one beefy arm, he fumbled for the keys and unlocked the door. His heart raced, as he locked up behind himself. Yes, of course this was the best plan! If - no - when he’d thoroughly broken in his ass with such a prodigious toy, the twink wouldn’t stand a chance!

Swiftly clearing the floor in front of his sofa, he linked his laptop to his television. Watching his attempts from the night before while tackling the behemoth he’d just bought would kill two birds with one stone. Not only would he make the use of his time by working out his pucker and acquainting himself with something which vastly surpassed Tack’s size, but by analyzing the recording of himself. He was an absolute genius!

Setting the base he’d purchased in front of his TV, he ripped open the box of his new dildo. Feelings its heft in his palms, he appraised the meticulously crafted length. Traced with a long, angry vein, dark as midnight, and adorned with a set of meaty, sculpted nuts, it could almost double as a clone of his own equipment - almost. Unlike him, it had several flaws which were hard to overlook.

It wasn’t quite as large as him, it lacked any of his sublime body heat, and the glaring absence of any natural musk were all detractors, not to mention it wasn’t attached to a divine form like his own. There was no conceivable way a mere simulacrum could ever challenge everything he had to offer, yet there was nothing he could do. The thing would serve as an implement to his further progression to perfection, so it would have to do.

Licking the heavy-duty suction cup inbuilt in the bottom of the toy, he affixed the dong to the heavy platform on the floor. Weighing nearly fifty pounds, the base unit was a rather clever device; with a wide foundation, it had attachment points at various angles along the four sides and top. He’d be sure to put the hefty unit to good use, plowing himself in different positions using a variety of techniques.

Surveying the arrangement of his living area, approving of the space he’d left for himself, he walked to the laptop and set the videos of himself on loop. He’d already positioned his two cameras to document the event, in the hopes that further information could be gleaned from the recordings. With everything in its place made, there was only one thing left to do. Stripping from the simple shorts and t-shirt he’d donned for his brief mission to the store, he reached back and massaged his backdoor.

Warm, supple, and surprisingly juicy, the velvety ring of flesh compulsively winked at his touch. Some of the lube from the evening before must have remained within him, because he was able to slide a finger in with relative ease. Just for good measure, realizing that there could never be an excess of lube, he fetched a bottle from his entertainment center and squirted a liberal amount on his hand.

Bending over, he smeared the dong with the slippery goo, stood, and applied the remainder to his behind. Stepping over the towering toy, he took a wide stance and began to squat. Getting himself properly aligned had been easier than doing it in the shower, since he’d been unable to actually see if he was on the right course. As he descended, lowering himself further and further, the battering ram-like tip nudged his entrance.

Reaching between his legs, holding the toy steady, he gradually applied more of his weight. In spite of the mounting pressure on his pucker, his body seemingly refused to yield. Snorting, getting increasingly frustrated with his disobedient backside, he heaved his body-weight downward. The impetuous move, while met with success, had a devastating effect.

Brute-forcing the gargantuan dildo into his rump caused his heart to skip a beat. It wasn’t painful, per se, but the unmitigated intensity of it left him breathless. Craning his neck downward, his eyes widened in disbelief. In one fell swoop, he’d managed to bury half of the dong in himself.

The sound of a whimper snapped him from his amazed stupor, drawing his attention to the television. On the screen, displayed from two different angles, he stood in his bathroom and bucked back against the dildo in his shower. Sweat and water glistened on his immaculate hide, accentuating his godly physique. Truly, if there was one being which never failed to entrance him, it was himself.

Resting his hands on his head, as a number of twinks had done while they’d ridden him, he started to move. Flexing his legs, raising himself from the floor, he unsheathed himself from a few inches of toy, breathed, and lowered himself. The affair was a laborious one - not because of his balance or of how abjectly stuffed he was, but because it felt heavenly.

The same awe inspiring and exotic sensations from his trials less than twelve hours ago were magnified several times over. Keeping his eyes glued on the screen, seeing just how much he had enjoyed screwing himself in the bathroom, his nostrils flared. He tried to tell himself it was revolting, that he hadn’t taken amusement from it, but it was painfully obvious that hadn’t been the case.

Mesmerized by the sight of himself, continually moving up and down the formidable length of faux dick beneath, he leaned back. The change in positioning, while slight, increased the pressure on his abused p-spot - however, unlike his first attempt at training, he accepted the extraordinary sensation and didn’t slow in the slightest. Depressing his hips, sending yet more of the silicone shaft into his depths, the speed and power of his movements went unhindered.

With one particularly vehement plunge, the dong’s medial ring sank into his satiny interior. The detonation of pleasure which hit him sparked something, shaking the very foundation of his being and causing him to move even faster than before. Fiercely pumping his waist, working the toy like some wanton neophyte, he balanced himself on one hand.

Pawing at his chest, enthusiastically tugging at one nipple, he couldn’t look away from the television. Past his bucking hips and madly flopping cock, he was transfixed by what he saw. It didn’t matter that his stallionhood was slinging pre-cum over the carpet and his exquisitely defined abs, he simply needed more. He could stop any time he liked, simply get up and leave the pathetic dildo alone, but he didn’t want to.

He was the architect of his fate, the King of himself and anyone he saw fit, and this was all part of his grand design. If he took some small sliver of joy from elevating his prowess, so be it. Unleashing his full might, working his body like the angelic machine it was, the muscles about his frame were a symphony of movement.

Throughout it all, one fanciful thought persisted. He imagined that he was the stallion being serviced. Perhaps whispering hushed words of encouragement, tenderly stroking his bosom, or lavishing him with praise. He was the apex of lovers and, although he’d never considered it before, the notion of pleasuring himself in such a way drove him absolutely wild.

Breathing heavily, with his reservations crumbling under the ceaseless tide of bliss, he succumbed. Throwing his head back, his fanged maw flew open and he howled to the heavens. Shot after shot of roiling foal-batter flowed from his mighty stallionhood, like some ancient geyser, spattering him from head to toe. His limbs shook, in a fit of ecstasy, leaving him to crash to the floor and fully hilt the toy.

Crumpling to the carpet, in a murky state of consciousness, his mind struggled to comprehend what he’d done. He could feel the heat of his essence dotting his face, pecs, and abdomen, leaving him to assume the carpet in the surrounding area was thoroughly coated in the virile substance. His pucker feebly twitched, hungrily seizing upon the toy he’d sheathed himself upon, but that was a trivial concern.

There was one thing he clung to, one undeniable fact which shone through and eclipsed all others - he’d done it. He’d managed to handle something vastly greater than the tool Tack wielded. He would need to clean himself and his apartment, of course, yet those were minor details which would be dealt with shortly. So long as he devoutly committed to his practice, sharpening his skills with the monstrous dildo, he knew he’d be triumphant. Savoring his victory, heedless of his clandestine appetite for pleasuring himself in such a fashion, he rested and mused on how he would next sate himself…