Zebrican Life

Chapter 5

Zecora and Zhamir walked slowly and in a comfortable, amicable silence through the splendid gardens of the castle. She knew every flower and every plant by name, function, and properties. Some were medicinal, others decorative, and many more used for the oils and treatments found at large throughout Zebrica for mares to use in various rituals and oils. Namely speaking, those used to make their bottoms, tails, and head be stinky and alluring for their stallions.

Pushing those thoughts aside for the moment, she cleared her throat. “I remember when we used to play in these gardens. So many adventures we pretended to play and our escapades always brought the ire of the maidens! Rascals we were in all but name, uncontrollable and reckless yet without harm or ill desire. Playing and mischievous actions were all but the same, as we were unable to distinguish what was fun from something dire.”

“We got in so much trouble several times! Mother was furious with me after that time we built a fortress made out of gardening tools, remember?” Zhamir laughed fondly at the memory. “Or when you somehow decided it was a good idea to taste several plants and roots to see what effects they had?”

Zecora blushed at the playful prodding. “I was young and dumb, a mere filly pretending to know better! And I’ll have you know that my belly ached as if it was going through a fetter.”

“True… ah, how I cherish those simpler times. But, if I do recall correctly, having you watch as our mothers worked on making a potion to alleviate your pain was the catalyst that got you interested in the path of the Shaman, was it not?”

“Indeed it was; my belly calmed but the smell only began when it ended, the stinky, pungent smell that mares enjoy to have on their scalps and behind. I suffered so much, my sensitive nose couldn’t take such an agonizing punishment back in the day; I couldn’t control it at all, and I suffered it all, from stench to uncontrolled farts, I felt resigned.”

“Wait, you have a sensitive nose? Is that why you always admonished the use of oils, perfumes, and rejected the traditional rituals… is that why you left to Equestria?” Zhamir asked, perplexed.

“I did it not out of malice and I thought there was something wrong with me for wanting to push away my heritage, my culture. It was only after years of study that I discovered the root cause of my discomfort, my sense of smell that is keen’s as that of a vulture. I did all I could to remedy my discomfort and to an extent I was successful. The path was arduous and filled with peril; fights with cockatrices, manticores, and other such horrors, it was all so stressful. Yet I managed to grow in comfort and control my gift, for with my sense of smell I discovered several plants and methods to create potions unlike any previously witnessed. To secure their creation and bring them back here, to my home, that I made it my business.”

“Zecora… I didn’t know… It must have been so painful to endure the heavy musks and the smells of so many oils, perfumes, fragrances… all rubbed on mares not to mention their own natural scents and the markings of their husbands…” Zhamir said, trying to imagine how having such a sensitive to perceive the smells that, at least to him and to a majority of his people would be pleasant and arousing, but to her were painful, horrible, and putrid.

She shook her head and reassured him. “Worry not and fret nothing of it, Zhamir, for it dwells in the past. I still cannot withstand most of the potent smells, but I can manage myself quite well, unless, of course, I encounter something that leaves me aghast.”

“That’s good to hear, Zecora,” he looked around and smirked. “You know… I think it was riiiiight there-” he pointed at a nearby decoration marked with a warding rune. “-when we first kissed, is it not?”

“I believe you are right,” Zecora replied, smiling and blushing simultaneously. “A memory I hold most dear as it shines within me showing nothing but light.”

The couple stared into each other’s eyes for several moments in complete silence, simply enjoying the company of the other before the prince spoke. “I love you, Zecora,” he took a step forward, nearly pressing his snout against hers. “I have loved you since we were but foals, before I even understood what love was. My love, you and you alone are the one mare I wish to take as my wife. Please, Zecora, allow me the infinite blessing of courting you properly, traditions be damned if you so wish! Don’t remove your tail or mane, leave your eyebrows be, don’t carry any scent. If you wish not for them, then it shall be so. I simply want you at my side and for me to be at yours.”

Zecora couldn’t stop her happy tears from escaping and she smiled broadly. “I have thought of you every day since I left Zebrica and arrived at Equestria. My stay was enjoyable and I focused all of my strength on my pursuit of knowledge and connection with the Spirits. Yes, you were with me in my dreams, cheering me on, while I wished with every fiber of my being to see you again one day and be with you,” she stopped in order to nuzzle him lovingly for a moment. “I love you too, Zhamir. With all my heart.”

“What, no rhyming?” He chuckled while his heart threatened to burst at any moment from sheer happiness.

“I say this as a mare, not a Shaman,” she said before their lips met for the first time in over a decade. Their flesh buds collided and mashed against each other in a sweet, slow dance that depicted their lack of experience and amateurish attempts at making it romantic. It was sloppy, they hit their teeth a few times, didn’t know how to breathe properly, but it didn’t matter. To them, their kiss was nothing short of perfection. When it ended, she pulled back in order to catch her breath before speaking once more. “If I’m to stay at your side and allow this courtship to start, then there’s a ritual I’ll have to take.”

Zhamir’s eyes went wide. “A-Are you sure? Zecora, please, I wouldn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable by doing so.”

Zecora shook her head. “I may not like it, that is true, and were you not a Prince then I would remain as I am after your heartfelt offer. But if I am to stand at your side, then I must look the part. For you,” she kissed his lips again. “Being bald and stinky is a sacrifice I am more than willing to make now.”

“If you are certain, then we shall do it however you feel more comfortable doing, my love,” kissing again, they enjoyed their union once more; a promise of more to come and years spent apart finalized.

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The following day at the ritual chamber of the Head Shaman, Zhamir and Zecora waited for everything to commence. The ritual was rather simple and required no special chantings but it did require the presence of a Shaman to validate it. With Velia doing this for her son that was more than covered. Zecora has also invited her to-be sisters-in-law to watch as she got shaved by her beloved Zhamir.

They assisted their mother in bringing all the equipment she would need to perform the ritual. A sharp razor blade, several types of ointments and specially concocted oils, and, of course, a wide selection of perfumes. All of it performed under the gentle warmth of candlelights and the aromatic scent of incense.

“To symbolize your union, Zhamir, you must shave the head, tail, and eyebrows of your beloved of candor. May the sharpness and smoothness of the blade cut away the ties of doubt so that love may bloom even grander,” Velia said as she presented the razor blade to her son.

“Are you absolutely sure you want to do this, Zecora? Just say the word and this will stop. I don’t care if you’re bald or not, you are the most beautiful mare in my eyes regardless of your choice,” he said, exalting his love for her.

“I wouldn’t be here otherwise, my love. You are royalty and a stallion of skill and cunning, you’ll need a partner that represents the traditions of Zebrica to stand proud and above,” she replied with a gentle smile. “Fret not, Zhamir, for you have my trust. And despite how much you would like it to be otherwise, I speak the truth of the matter even if it may feel unjust.”

“I know,” he sighed. “Very well then, only for you, my love. And thank you.”

He said before taking the handle with his mouth, the blade enchanted with runes to prevent it from accidentally cutting her too deeply. Velia applied some soap all over Zecora head, tail, and eyebrows and, after a few seconds, Zhamir moved in to slowly and delicately begin to shave her. For a full minute, Zecora watched as her mane, bountiful and tall, fell to the ground alongside her eyebrows and her long, bushy tail.

When it was done, Velia signaled her to stand up and she obeyed. Instantly after, she noticed that her balance was off and that she felt much lighter. It took her a few seconds to adapt to an acceptable degree for her to be able to stand still. Just in time, too, for Velia to give Zhamir a cream she knew far too well.

“By applying the Cream of Ungrowth, the mare shall never be able to recover that which was lost today. Rejoice, for it is a sign of belonging; the start of a promise that nothing else shall hold sway,” she said.

Zhamir applied the cream over her freshly shaven parts and she felt a slight sting and a burning sensation for mere seconds before it came to an end. After that, she felt the cream move by itself and merge with her fur and skin, permanently leaving her bald from head, tail, and eyebrows.

The Princesses brought a mirror so that Zecora could see her new self. At first, she didn’t know what to think, but the more she inspected her new appearance; her bad, maneless, short fur and smooth head, her lack of eyebrows, and her short, smooth tail, her heart went aflutter. As much as it shocked her to admit it, she loved her new look and how beautiful it made her seem. A quick glance at Zhamir told her he thought the same, as his erection loudly slapped against his belly and the massive blush on his face made her smile even wider.

“Now, Zhamir, pick a perfume or oil treatment to mark Zecora with a particular scent. Choose whichever strikes your senses the most for this event,” Velia said before presenting a vast assortment of perfumes, scented waters, oils, and ointments to choose from.

Zecora looked at the Princesses and knew that they, much like Velia, were wearing their own brand of musk or perfume for the day. She knew what that meant and what that implied. Every mare, even those sharing the same perfume, smelled different because of the combination of oils and perfumes. The perfumes themselves were strong and impactful, produced with great care to be enjoyable without being too pronounced even if the choice of scents were unique.

Fermented and processed animal feces was one of the key ingredients of every perfume and depending on the quantity, quality, and type of animal the result always varied. It was rather exotic from an outsider’s point of view but to a zebra mare, it was as common as breathing. Not only that, but many oils were prepared via similar methods but had other purposes. Instead of merely smelling as a particular mix of poop, fruits, vegetables, plants, bark, or flowers, they mixed in with the sweat glands to make them produce more of the mare’s natural musk and make it stinkier, not to mention adding a slight aroma to it.

She dreaded having to use the stronger types from then on out, but Zhamir was as cunning as he was handsome, and instead of choosing an oil or perfume, he touched her now bald head and ran his hoof across it.

“Why would I choose something over what is already perfect?” He said in a rhetorical manner that pleased his mother, apparently having known about Zecora’s condition already. “Her natural scent is more than enough for me.”

Zecora felt her heart melt upon hearing those words but even so, she wasn’t prepared when Zhamir began sniffing and licking her bottom, taking in her musk and humming to himself as he enjoyed everything she had to give. He licked her haunches, savoring the taste of her sweat under her fur, then her thighs, flanks, and shaven tail. She lifted her tail to expose herself to her beloved, but even though the action was appreciated, it didn’t matter since it now her pussy and anus would be always exposed; whatever modesty her tail provided now truly gone.

“Mmmmmm~” she shivered as she moaned in delight, finding the actions of Zhamir so incredibly debaucherous but also exciting. She moaned louder when he began to sniff her pussy and anus shortly before he began to lick her skin.

“Zecora…,” he moaned her name as he continued to lick, focusing on lapping her asshole and sucking on her clit.

It didn’t take much after for Zecora to get riled up thanks to his actions and, soon enough, after years of pent up frustrations and unfulfilled desires got the better of her, she came quickly; her abundant nectar overflowing against his open mouth as he lapped it to enjoy more of her taste.

With her legs feeling wobbly, he moved back to support her with his body. They shared a messy, sloppy kiss for the better part of a minute until they parted, both of them smiling widely and happily.

“With the spilling of nectar a pact has been made, may your love be true and shine bright as fire and be as intense! Together: a stallion and a mare, a new family soon to be born if the Gods and Spirits will do so so that, in the future, your belly swells with foal and may his mark claim you as his mare, let the courting commence!” Velia chanted.

“Now it’s official, my love, we are courting. I promise I’ll make you happy, Zecora,” Zhamir said.

Zecora didn’t reply with words but rather closed the distance between once again in order to nuzzle with him. He nuzzled her back immediately and spent who knows how long lovingly nuzzling each other, relishing the company of the other since her arrival.

Chapter 5 End.

Author's Note

Special thanks to anyone that read this.