Overwhelmed and Overthrown

Sitting on his couch, leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees, Sombra steepled his fingers and kept his crimson gaze fixed firmly on the door. On any other night off he’d be relaxing, socializing, or indulging himself with one of his many devout fans made lovers, yet this was a special occasion. It had been two weeks to the day since his inauspicious encounter with Tack and, true to his word, he was ready to settle the score.

Goaded by pride and the promise of subjugating the lad, he’d bottomed for the twink and lost in spectacular fashion. Humiliated, filled with the young stallion’s seed, and having been brought to climax purely by having his impeccable rump wantonly plowed, he’d been forced to dramatic measures. Offering double or nothing odds, promising to entertain at the Princely Pole while wearing slatternly marish outfits for two concurrent Friday evenings, if he lost, a pact had been forged.

The prior two weeks had been utterly grueling. Ceaselessly practicing his bottoming techniques, screwing himself in all manner of compromising positions, his backside had been well and thoroughly put through its paces. His onyx pucker, nestled firmly between his muscular glutes, could now easily accommodate even the most colossal stallionhood.

Though arduous at first, the routine he’d adopted had been a total and resounding success. He’d trained physically, studied on how best to pleasure a top, and more than acquainted himself with the feeling of being fucked. He couldn’t fathom being more ready, yet his self discipline hadn’t gone without leaving a mark.

Imaginings and daydreams of studs would creep into his thoughts, often inspiring him to practice with his toys at odd or inconvenient hours. Beyond the mental torment, his body had been left unmarred - well, almost. His once taut tail hole had developed noticeably, becoming more pronounced and pliable with the regular use; it didn’t bother him much, if at all, reminding him that he was just one step closer to physical perfection.

Knock Knock Knock-Knock Knock

The sudden sound caused him to blink, abruptly shaking him from his ruminations. Without moving a muscle, he glanced over at the clock atop his entertainment center - eight pm, right on time. Heaving himself up, flexing his back, he leisurely walked over to his door. As he undid the lock and reached for the knob, he took a breath.

Pulling open the door, he peered down at the slender grey stallion. Roughly half his size, with a relatively slim build, the pony didn’t look like anything impressive, yet Sombra knew better. The vile incubus had bested him, permanently tarnished his faultless carnal record and wounded his pride. Smiling at the lad, cleverly concealing any scorn he held for the twink, Sombra stepped aside and bid his guest enter.

“Looking sexy as ever, I see,” Tack warmly greeted, wiping off his shoes and stepping into the colossus’ apartment.

“As always,” Sombra began, locking the door behind the lad and giving them the privacy they’d be needing. “I trust you’ve been well?” he inquired, turning to appraise his visitor.

“Oh yeah, totally. How about yourself?” the twink countered, smiling up at his host.

“Well enough,” the King murmured, fixating on what lie strapped to the stallion’s back. There was nothing extraordinary about the book-bag the pony bore, although he definitely recognized it; his suitor had brought him a lustful parody of a french maid outfit to wear in the accursed sack, when they’d last met, so he couldn’t help but wonder what horrors it currently held. “Let me guess,” he flatly stated, leveling a finger at the piece of luggage, “sling bikini? Sexy nurse?”

Tack chuckled, shrugging the bag off his shoulders and unzipping one side. After thrusting his hand into the sack and feeling around for a moment, he produced what looked like a shoe-box. The thing was taped shut, with shipping labels over one side, yet there was no clear sign of what it contained. Holding it out to his host, he smiled.

“These just arrived yesterday. I’m gonna be honest, I was sweating bullets that they wouldn’t get here in time,” he explained, as the gargantuan unicorn daintily plucked the parcel from his hands. “I...if you want me to spoil it, I will, but I figured you may like the surprise. I know you’ll look amazing in it.”

“My dear,” Sombra sighed, hooking a finger under his guest’s chin, “someone would have to try to make me look bad in anything.”

The lad blushed and fidgeted, doubtlessly smitten with his sonorous tone and commanding presence. Sombra couldn’t help but smirk, more sure than ever that he would thoroughly despoil the little pony and leave him ruined for any future lovers. With the brief pleasantries over, and the small package in his hand, he turned and strutted off to the bathroom.

“Feel free to make yourself comfortable,” he intoned, slowing as he crossed the living room towards the lavatory. “And feel free to strip for me, I’m more than eager to have you,” he added, closing the door behind himself and disappearing from view.

Leaving his guest to entertain himself, he ran a polished fingernail along the box’s top seam. He couldn’t care less what he would be wearing when he subdued his lithe foe, so he pulled back the cardboard and peered inside. A sea of pastel hues met his eyes, as he gazed at the wardrobe he’d been given.

Digging into the package, the first thing Sombra discovered was a rather whorish school girl’s outfit. Folded within a cellophane package, with an image of the getup on the exterior, it looked positively debauched. An extraordinarily short skirt and a matching top, each a pale pink with white accents, were the main part of his getup. Digging deeper, he discovered the rest of his attire.

A pair of striped turquoise panties rested beneath the ensemble. Though they were clearly modeled after a mare’s underwear, the tag clearly displayed that they were meant for stallions. Big Bottom Bitches lay emblazoned on the waist band, above a rather generous banana hammock of material in the front of the garment. Noting the spare room, unlike with the maid outfit he’d worn prior, he realized he may be able to fit his enormous package in the area.

Fishing the second piece of clothing from the box, something rattled against the cardboard. Peeking within, he discovered a rather sizable teal cock ring resting at the bottom of the parcel. Hooking his finger on the item, bringing it to eye level, he appraised it. At a glance, it appeared as though it would fit on his girthy length, although he wouldn’t be completely certain until he tried it on.

Opening the packaged outfit, as well as removing the tag from the undergarment, he arranged the attire on the rim of his sink and began to disrobe. Folding his shirt, slacks, and boxers, he set his clothing on the towel rack and began to dress in the depraved uniform he’d been gifted. Everything fit him like a glove, as he’d expected, if only barely. After slipping the cock ring down his stallionhood, seating it against his sheath, he pulled up his panties and gazed at his reflection.

As silly as it sounded, he had to admit, he did look rather fetching in the outfit. The top, which happened to have a large bow directly over his breast, clung tightly to his torso, while the waistband of the skirt pinched into his waist. Being cut ludicrously short, the lower garment gave a teasing view of the obscenely bulged panties containing his package. All in all, he could easily be mistaken for some desperate tramp or street walker, yet he felt a peculiar thrill at seeing himself adorned in such a fashion.

Like some deviant warrior, he was ready for the impending erotic contest. The licentious ensemble was his armor - his unparalleled physique, his arsenal - and his unshakable resolve, his bulwark. He was ready, nearly a month had led to this moment, and he would soon mend his wounded pride. Sauntering out of the bathroom, sensually swaying his hips from side to side, his ego was a roaring inferno.

As instructed, Tack had stripped down and was sitting on his sofa. The slate colored stallion’s eyes widened, as he watched the adonic King drawing nearer. The lad’s tool, resting between his legs, twitched at the sight of him. Without breaking stride, Sombra walked to his guest and squatted down to the floor.

Splaying his legs wide and arched his back, he gave a sublime view of his scarcely concealed nethers the seated twink. Though he was fully aware that he must have looked like some degenerate, it was part of his plan. Getting his prey worked up would be the first step to achieve his victory.

“Enjoying the view,” Sombra purred, fondling himself while balancing on one arm.

Tack’s mouth flapped for a moment, before he nodded enthusiastically. Reaching for his groin, grabbing his hardening member, he started stroking himself like a randy school colt. The giant unicorn before him smiled and launched himself forward. As his legs were tenderly pried apart by his mountainous host, he gulped.

Even though Sombra had trained his ass to the utmost, he wasn’t above giving himself a slight handicap. Grabbing the lad’s wrist, pulling his hand away from his rigid stallionhood, he leaned in and breathed hotly upon the throbbing length of flesh. Gazing into the lad’s golden eyes, without the slightest bit of hesitation, he wrapped his lips around Tack’s cock.

Sombra didn’t consider it cheating, per se, since oral was almost always the opening act before someone got fucked. Contentedly humming around the tool, he watched his rival’s face contort in pleasure. Resting one arm on his knee, maintaining a deep squat, his free hand reached down between his thighs. Pulling the panties aside, he kneaded his backdoor.

He’d thoroughly cleaned and lubed himself less than an hour ago, yet getting himself a little warmed up wouldn’t hurt a thing. He certainly wasn’t getting excited about having the hot, wonderfully hard shaft in his muzzle - no, he was just ready to assert his superiority over the cur. Slipping two fingers into himself, he slathered his guest’s dick with saliva.

Bobbing his head, breathing in the smaller stallion’s surprisingly heady musk, his nose repeatedly bumped against the twink’s groin. As his digits caressed his well-worked p-spot, he closed his eyes. He almost felt bad for what he was about to do - not for himself, but because the svelte pony would never again get a piece of tail better than him.

“Gods,” Tack groaned, lightly bucking against the titan’s snout, “you really are amazing in every way.”

The compliment, paired with the first salty taste of pre-cum on his taste buds, caused Sombra to withdraw his head. Drawing his tongue up the sensitive underside of his lover’s length, giving it a parting lick, he stood to his full height and swung one knee onto the sofa. Grabbing the back of the couch, to either side of Tack’s head, he straddled the stallion and got into position. It was time for the true contest to begin.

Given his rather extensive practice, he’d become quite proficient with impaling himself on something by feel alone. Lifting his tail and swinging it to the side, he lowered his waist. His aim was perfect, allowing his tush to effortlessly transfix himself on the first attempt. Tack gasped, doubtlessly overwhelmed by the warmth and snugness his flawless body afforded.

“Tell me,” he began, peering down at the lad, “how amazing is it?”

“S...so good,” Tack murmured, burying his face against the Sombra’s midriff.

Their difference in size was rather striking, with the King utterly dwarfing his paramour. Riding his guest in a seated cowgirl position, Tack’s head only reached Sombra’s solar plexus. The lad’s small stature didn’t bother him in the slightest - in fact, he found it rather cute. The disparity of their scale was, after all, a rather fitting exhibit of their inequity of grandeur.

Merrily wiggling his rear, which rested heavily upon the lad’s lap, Sombra began to bounce. Using the furniture to stabilize himself, he steadily raised and lowered his waist. Beyond moving his monstrous frame, he clamped his pucker on the upward movements and relaxed on the descents. The angle spared his prostate from much stimulation, although the stallionhood plunging into him was just enough to tickle the delicate organ.

Reaching upward, Tack deftly unfastened the button securing Sombra’s top over his chest. The article swung open, gloriously displaying his obsidian hide and perfectly sculpted pecs. Having giving himself a better view of the King’s bare flesh, the twink grabbed the unicorn’s waist and began bucking his hips.

Sombra had to admire the lad’s tenacity, boldly remaining defiant in the face of a demigod. He chuckled, synchronizing their movements and savoring the pleasurable havoc he doubtlessly wreaked on his guest. Just as he’d found his rhythm, the little earth pony hit him with a surprise move.

Pressing his feet to the floor and sliding his behind forward, Tack altered the angle of his thrusts. The change caught Sombra off guard, increasing the pressure on his weak point and sending a shockwave of euphoria surging through him. Staring down in surprise, just as the lad’s lips wrapped around one of his nipples, he bit his lip.

While the dimensions of the twink’s tool weren’t the problem, especially since he could accommodate something more than double the lad’s size, he found himself wracked with unforeseen pleasure. Besieged by sensations he’d had no earthly way to prepare himself for, he did what little he could to cope. Sadly, it was all infuriatingly compelling.

The heat of Tack’s body, his lilting praise, how his hands wandered, the way his lips suckled, they were like a debased feast for the senses. In spite of all his training, dealing a cacophonous blow to his arrogance, he found his resolve wilting. His body paid his railing mind little heed, bending to the small stallion’s will.

Rocking his ass back and forth, trying his damnedest to figure out if he was doing it to push Tack to his limit or to sate himself, his movements hastened. His gigantic stallionhood excitedly swelled, sneaking past his panties and skirt to sandwich itself between him and his partners’ torsos. Growing faster with every moment, stimulated by their moving bodies, the glistening, pre-cum slickened head wormed up to his chest.

Peering down, watching his mate kiss and nibble his teat, he spied the tip of his length trapped between his prodigious pecs. From his vantage, it almost looked like he was giving himself a tit job. As jarring as the concept was, it paled in comparison to how maddeningly wondrous it felt. Try as he might, he couldn’t cease his perfidious body from indulging.

Virtually every part of him was worshipped in some form or fashion, from his formidable cock to the depths of his ass. The only experience he’d had like it was on his first encounter with Tack, although this was far worse. Either his exercise and study had been for nought or he’d made a woeful miscalculation about choosing the position. It wasn’t until his lover bit down on his nipple, eliciting an effeminate squeal from delight to pass his lips, did he regain some semblance of control.

“P...perhaps a change of change of a...arrangements are in order,” Sombra sputtered, only barely maintaining his composure.

Mercifully, Tack’s thrusting drew to a halt and the lad looked up at him. Reclining fully, releasing his grip on the King’s lower back and tush, he nonchalantly took to stroking Sombra’s stallionhood. “What’ve you got in mind?” he cheerily inquired, fixating on the sensitive underside of his paramour’s glans.

“The bed,” Sombra immediately replied, wanting little more than to flee.

“Of course, my Master,” Tack humbly intoned, curtly bowing his head forward. Dragging his tongue over the blunted tip of unicorn cock before him, he honored his King.

Sombra was only just able to stifle a whimper, as he laboriously pushed himself up and unseated himself from the lad. With as much grace as he could muster, he strolled around the sofa and towards his mattress. Since he hadn’t planned on being rutted in more than one position, he was left to improvise.

Placing one knee on the bed, he crawled onto the padded surface and eased himself onto his stomach. Lying prone, with his legs parted slightly, his length came to rest between his thighs. Though there’d be nothing stopping Tack from battering his behind from above, at least his chest and stallionhood would be left largely unmolested. Grabbing a pillow and dragging it under his head, he invitingly waggled his backside.

It was a precarious situation, to say the least. He was far from throwing in the towel, yet his limits were already being tested. With his confidence shaken, he reached back and prized his glutes apart. There was no way he could afford to lose a second time - not only because of his reservations about parading around in marish garments on stage, but because his dignity wouldn’t allow him to do otherwise.

“You know,” Tack purred, growing nearer, “I’m a little jealous.”

The statement caught Sombra by surprise, causing him to look back at the stallion. “Of what?”

“Of not being the first to top you. Sweet stars above, I wish I could claim that title,” the lad admitted, scaling the bed and moving between the King’s legs. “Whoever was the first stallion to claim you,” he whispered, drawing one hand up the unicorn’s calf, over his muscular thigh, and to his presented tush, “must have been the luckiest pony ever…”

Sombra’s heart skipped a beat, hearing the twink’s words. The adulation was, in a word, exquisite. If Tack had known the truth, that he was the stallion to despoil his behind, he’d surely be elated beyond belief - still, he couldn’t concede that bit of information. While possibly pushing his lover closer to the edge, divulging that the twink had tainted him in such a way could just as easily backfire.

“You’re just so...perfect,” Tack continued, bringing his face the colossus’ ripe, heavy balls and grandly displayed stallionhood. “Every part of you is divine and I’m honored that you would allow me such a privilege,” he reverently muttered, breathing in Sombra’s scent. Continuing to move on his hands and knees, passing over his immense lover, he brought his rigid length to the unicorn’s behind.

As Sombra was mounted from above, he released his buns and steeled himself. Sure enough, as Tack got into position, he felt the hot length of cock brought to his loosened entrance. Pawing at the bedsheets, with his eyelids fluttering, the twink slowly and sensually sank into his ass. His small paramour’s tool was left sheathed in his rump, allowing him to savor the heavenly heat and fullness.

Draping his face over the King’s mountainous shoulder, Tack began bucking away. Angling his thrusts like a professional, making sure to grind his medial ring against Sombra’s prostate, he satiated both himself and his partner. It was not unlike a tale of David and Goliath; while the size and build of the two were worlds apart, the smaller stallion was clearly a force to be reckoned with.

Gnawing upon one thumb, rhythmically raising his waist to meet the lad’s plunges, Sombra was awash in bliss. Although it was true that parts of him were spared rapturous harassment from his mate, it was impossible to deny that his willpower was waning. He had next to no freedom of movement, he was being loving rutted, and he was slowly going mad with lust.

“No,” Tack lovingly tutted, reaching up and gingerly seizing his wrist.

Sombra’s hand was pulled away from his face, leaving him with nothing to stifle himself. He could have overpowered the stallion a dozen - no, a hundred times over, yet his strength was all but gone. Confused, frightened, and profoundly aroused, he acquiesced to his lover. Peering back at the lad, a hushed whimper crept past his lips.

“There we go,” Tack cooed, looking fondly down at the Adonis. “Let me hear that beautiful voice of yours…”

WIthout skipping a beat, his mate forcefully plunged into Sombra and struck a direct blow against his p-spot. Almost on instinct, his eyes closed and a throaty, marish groan of delight cut through through the air. He could barely comprehend that he’d made the noise, before his guest started brutally pistoning his ass.

“So wonderful, so divine, I’ll remember this for the rest of my days,” Tack huffed, his hips becoming a blur. “I hope you’ll remember me too.”

“Y...yes,” Sombra bleated, albeit hesitantly. Throwing his ass back, ensuring their bodies slammed together, he did what he could to please his guest.

Casting his arms wide, Tack’s hands wormed around the King’s giant chest. As he continued to pound into his host, moving harder and faster with each passing moment, he found what he was looking for. His fingers seized upon the unicorn’s teats, firmly twisting the buds of flesh.

A piercing howl cut through the air, as Sombra’s voice raised an octave. It was impossible to think, as his existence was consumed by his primal and carnal needs. Clenching and relaxing his pucker, holding onto the bedspread for dear life, his limits were tested beyond reasoning. Pre-cum dribbled and weakly gushed from his shaft, smearing the sheets as his stallionhood began to flare.

He wasn’t going to be able to hold out for very long - then again, neither was his pint-sized paramour. Tack’s movements were becoming frantic, losing their steady rhythm and devolving into wild, nearly panicked bucking. It was coming down to the wire, they were neck and neck, and he honestly couldn’t tell which would outlast the other.

Stricken by divine inspiration, acting on impulse, Sombra threw his head back and brayed to the heavens. “Breed me!”

His desperate plea was the finishing blow for Tack. Hilting, crying out, he bathed the giant’s interior with his essence. Fitfully bucking his hips, huffing and grunting above his lover, he pumped his seed deep into the King’s depths.

Sombra’s breath caught in his throat, his heart thundered in his chest, and every muscle about his body seemed to tense. In a singular moment, feeling the heat and pressure of the lad’s cum flooding into his deepest depths, marking parts of him that no other ever had, time slowed. The stars aligned, the heavens parted, and he came with all the force of a collapsing star.

All his senses went into overdrive, flooding his mind with every conceivable form of pleasure he could imagine. Spunk cascaded from his stallionhood, seeping into his blanket and spattering over the edge of the bed. His pucker hungrily clenched and milked the cock inside of him, as if yearning for every drop of the lad’s rich cream. It was at that moment that an epiphany struck him, as his body lay in the throes of rapture.

Why couldn’t he relish all aspects of being a sexual tyrant? The words top and bottom were just that, words; neither inherently conveyed any sense of control or or supremacy. Just because one was being rutted didn’t mean they couldn’t be the one dominating their partner! The light of truth shone through his ecstasy, as his consciousness teetered on the brink.

Tack’s weight bore down upon him, as the lad lie atop his back. Sombra breathed, grappling to comprehend everything that had happened. He truly couldn’t say if he’d won or not, having climaxed at practically the same time as his guest; it was, in a very real sense, a photo finish. Shakily reaching back, cradling the twink’s ass and holding him in place, he rolled onto his side.

“H...holy hell, that was even better than last time,” Tack rasped, gleefully spooning with his oversized paramour.

Sombra nodded and hummed, unsure of what to say. Even if he had definitely won their little competition, he was no longer concerned. As strange as it may have sounded, the climax of their endeavor had been cathartic. He was at peace, with his own foolish preconceptions of bedroom preferences vanquished.

The stallion against his back wiggled about contentedly, lovingly stroking and kissing his neck. “Too bad that I lost, I was really hoping to-”

“How much were the outfits?” Sombra interrupted, his lilting voice quieting the lad. With the clarity he’d achieved, his commanding presence had returned forthright.

“They weren’t much, maybe fifty bits for each, why?” Tack countered, craning his neck to look at the unicorn’s face.

“I’ll compensate you for them. After all, given their somewhat used state, I doubt you’d be allowed to get a refund,” the King intoned, smiling to himself. “We’ll consider the matter a draw. Don’t worry about me destroying your ass, for now.”

Propping himself up on one arm, as his softening length slipped from his host’s rump, Tack beamed. “So you’ll wear one?”

“Mayhaps,” Sombra lovingly growled, rolling over to face the lad, “on one condition…”

Tack’s pupils dilated and he shrank back, faced with the fanged maw the monster before him. “W...what c...c...condition?”

Leaning in, smiling ominously at the lad, Sombra’s eyes went alight with carmine light. “That we aren’t finished until we’re both limping into the bathroom…”