Zebrican Life

Chapter 9

Zhamir and Zecora had arrived at Zecora’s home tribe early in the morning and were now sitting in her parent’s living room. They hadn’t come for a family visit, at least not initially. But they had tended to their duties far quicker than expected and decided to pay a visit before leaving for the capital once more. Of course, her whole family had been ecstatic to see again and the Prince after a few months apart. Zecora’s father asked Zhamir if they could wait for a little while until they could get Balili, one of Zecora’s younger sisters and only fifteen years old, to deliver an important family announcement.

Their wait was rather short-lived as the mare in question entered the house with a young stallion, a local guard judging by his armor, at her side.

“Zecora!” Balili gasped and exclaimed in surprise before rushing to meet her sister. “I’m sorry! I meant to say, Zainabu! But you’re here for me!?” The younger mare nuzzled her older sister in greeting before turning to Zhamir, bowing her head. “Good to see you again, brother-in-law!”

“Ah, Balili, always so spirited,” Zhamir greeted before rubbing her head affectionately. “It seems you may be misinformed, dear. We didn’t come to visit the family but rather this is a happy coincidence. But it seems the secrecy of your parents is finally explained by your giddiness. Pray tell, Balili, why are you so happy about?”

“I’m proud to say that my darling daughter is getting married!” Said her father as the entire family gathered around the living room. Nudging at the young stallion, the guard stepped forward.

“Great Zainabu. My Prince Zhamir, I am pleased to meet you officially. My name is Xolote, and I may be a humble guard but I will do my best to support this family and my beloved Balili,” he said, approaching the royal pair to stand next to his wife.

“Low born or royal; guard, farmer, craftsman, or prince. It doesn’t matter our standing within our nation, we are all worthy of it and our roles are important,” Zhamir said to Xolote. “You may speak your mind, Zainabu.”

“Thank you, my beloved. Sister, when I left you were merely a little foal, barely able to talk. Yet to see you now standing ready to wed, so young and already knowing your place and desires is something that speaks of a conviction strong as bedrock,” Zecora said to her sister.

“How old are you, young stallion?” Zhamir asked.

“Sixteen, my Prince,” Xolote replied. “I know we’re young, but we want this more than anything!”

Zhamir nodded. “May your wedding and union be lasting and harmonious. When is the wedding taking place?”

“Tonight!” Balili answered, her tail wagging eagerly.

Zecora’s jaw dropped and Zhamir let out a mighty laugh. “The Gods have some strange sense of humor!”

Later that night (and after a few hours of enjoyable banter between family), Zecora and Zhamir decided to overstay their welcome in order to see the wedding ceremony of her sister. Every tribe had its own traditions regarding wedding ceremonies. Some were private, others were public, others had a certain age requirement or specific ritual to complete before or during the ceremony itself. Zecora’s tribe tradition was to hold weddings in the open and under the moonlight, for a deeper connection with the Spirits.

The elder of the tribe had prepared everything that would be needed for the ceremony. Most of it was the usual and fairly standard, but then he reached the important part of the ceremony.

“The union of a new couple is something to always be celebrated, for love knows no age nor boundaries. Balili and Xolote, you may be young but you are at the age to be allowed marriage now that your families have given their blessing onto you. It is not uncommon to see couples like you: eager, full of life, fertile, and driven by love to join your lives at such an early age. It happens regularly across most tribes and even some small towns. The Spirits and the Gods see nothing wrong with this, I assure you! Your union is blessed and you shall be wedded to start a new family, may it be numerous and prosperous!”

The rest of the ceremony passed without much issue until the couple said their vows.

“Balili, my love, I’m but a simple guard of our village. We’ve known each other since we were kids and you know I love you more than anything else in my life. I can’t promise you a life of luxury. I can’t promise you a life without strife. But I can promise you I will love you with every fiber of my being and make you happy to the best of my abilities,” the stallion promised.

“Xolote, I adore you with all my heart. We may be young and we’re going to make mistakes and be stupid once in a while,” which made everyone chuckle for a little while. “But being a wife… being your wife has been my dream since I was a filly. I’m ready to face our life together, my love. I don’t need riches. I just need you and many adorable foals to raise!” She replied before they kissed.

Zecora looked up to Zhamir when she heard him sniffling only to find him tearing up. Giving him an amused expression that he noticed, he snorted.

“I’m a helpless romantic, my love. You know this,” he excused himself before the newlywed couple began to copulate in front of the audience. They looked at them and heard their moans of pleasure and he sighed happily. “It brings back some nice memories, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed, my love,” Zecora replied.

There was a point in which Xolote, showing his dominance over Balili, bit against his wife’s neck all in an effort to breed her harder. The wet slaps of his balls hitting against her slit were heard across the field until he came. They cried out in pleasure before the stallion, not missing a beat, continued his mating by rutting the spread-out asshole of his wife. He continued to breed her asshole until he filled her tight pucker.

With the ceremony concluded, the entire family cheered for them, both Balili’s and Xolote’s, and they moved to Zecora’s parents' household, since it was larger and perfect to hold the following party. Once in the household, Zecora, Zhamir, the parents of the happy couple, and some of their older relatives moved to a series of tables where they could enjoy themselves while giving the couple the space they needed to dance and spend time with the rest of the family.

“Xolote is studying to become an officer?” Zhamir asked, impressed. “He didn’t strike me as the ambitious sort.”

“Oh, no, he isn’t. But if he manages to become an officer then he’ll be able to properly provide for Balili and their future foals,” Xolote’s father replied.

“Ah, commendable! I wish him the best. Officer training is rigorous. If his conviction is as strong as his words, he will succeed,” Zhamir commented.

“What about after the party is concluded? They are young, I hope my sister and her husband didn’t engage each other without a plan excluded?” Zecora asked, having received permission to speak freely earlier.

This time, it was her father who replied. “They already have that covered. They will move to the house he bought a few months back. Balili may be quite the free spirit but she shares your brilliant mind when it comes to organizing, Zainabu. They have a whole plan set up. First, they will move together and refrain from having foals for a year or two until they finish their studies. She’s going to become a great administrator and he’s going to become an officer. After that, they will start looking into forming a solid, happy, and big family,” he said with tangible pride.

“Of course, Balili will also take on her duties as a housewife,” Xolote’s mother said. “She is quite gifted for a mare her age! She loves to clean, do the chores, and make sure everything is up to order. She’ll make a fantastic wife for my son,” she praised. “It is hard to not find satisfaction in the life of a regular housewife.”

Zecora looked at Zhamir, who was smiling at her with a playful, knowing glean in his eyes. “I think I know what can serve as a last-minute gift from my part.”

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His gift had been quite a generous one indeed. For Xolote, nothing more than his word was required to put him at the top of the candidates and receive special extra training. It ran him through three times the pain most other candidates could ever hope to receive but it also rewarded him with his position sooner and with a rank above the standard.

On the other hoof, Balili received a nice stipend to finish her studies and manage herself a vacant position in her tribe’s administrational department. Not a glamorous job but one where her skills could truly shine and find her stability and time to raise her family and help her husband.

With those gifts given the young pair were able to accelerate their plans to half the time and begin working on starting a family. It was only eight months later that Balili announced that she was pregnant, just a couple of months before turning sixteen. More time passed until it was time for her to give birth and Zecora was now looking at a photo of her newest nephew being cradled by her sister.

She sighed happily as she sat around the Queen, Velia, and her daughters for a little get-together while waiting for their respective husbands to come out from an important meeting.

“Is something wrong, Zainabu?” Velia asked in her typical motherly tone.

“Nothing is wrong as all is right. One of my sisters has given birth to her first foal, a small bundle of light,” Zecora replied.

“Ohhhhh! Is it Balili? I remember that she came up in several conversations between you and big brother Zhamir!” One of the Princesses asked, clapping her hooves happily. “She’s rather young isn’t she?”

“What of it? Most mares find husbands at around seventeen or eighteen. She found her strong husband at fifteen. Truly, we should be envious of her luck!” Another chittered in good humor.

Zecora giggled. “Bt the good news does not end there. In the letter my mother sent me, my big sister Kossal, announcing her newest pregnancy, another member of the family to bear!”

“That’s so good to hear, Zainabu! Kossal has, what, five foals already? Spirits willing, she will deliver her new foal safely and bring forth more foals into the world.”

“I know, right?” A Princess said, rubbing her swollen belly. “I can’t wait for my little one to come out. My teats are so big and heavy with milk, all of it just for my new precious foal.”

“I know, I know. The duty of every mare is to provide her husband with plenty of foals and a big family. The bigger, the better I say. But the only thing better than getting pregnant and raising a foal is breastfeeding it,” she shuddered in heavily as she said those last words. “I can’t get enough of having my large, milk-filled teats emptied by a little, hungry foal. To feel the connection with something that grew inside me, to feed it with my essence so that it may grow strong and adorable is the ultimate joy any mother can experience. Right, mother?”

Velia nodded, smiling widely and proud of her daughter’s words.

Zecora remained silent while her sisters-in-law and the Queen continued to talk about the joyous experience that was breastfeeding, pregnancy, birthing, and raising a foal. She looked down at her flat belly and small teats and couldn’t help but feel a small pang of regret. Of course, she and Zhamir had agreed to wait until he rose to the throne to have foals. With his position thoroughly secured and some of the weight lifted from his shoulders, he could focus on raising a family as it was the tradition for the crown-prince in line if he didn’t have a family already.

That line of thought also brought her to remember a charmful tradition held once a month on her home tribe. She had never participated since she wasn’t married and she had left for Equestria at a young age. But she had gotten to see her mother and some of her older sisters and brothers being selected to participate. It more or less was a simulacrum of the wedding ceremony, usually presented to colts and fillies so they may know what it will involve and grow accustomed to it.

Twenty mares picked at random from the populace, all married, would go to the central square and line themselves only for their husbands to sniff their stinky, smelly bottoms and lick them until they orgasmed. Then, they would mount them and start breeding their rear holes until they were filled with cum.

By sheer coincided during one of their visits a few months back had coincided with the day of the event and she, along two of her sisters, were picked out to participate. They took the chance to further contribute to their society as the tradition played a secondary role of expression of love, fidelity, and devotion that could only be found in a married couple.

“Behold, young foals, for this is the show of love in its purest form. For a mare to be a good wife she must be submissive and obedient. For a stallion to be a good husband he must be dominant and virile. Mares need sex once they reach maturity and the stallions must be ready to provide that need. For a mare to be submissive if to be happy as they all love being under the control and orders of their husbands. Fillies, you will come to love this. It is your destiny, decreed by the Gods and the Spirits, to be mothers and good wives. And sex is an integral part of that relationship and if you practice it constantly, stay faithful, and produce many foals, you will be happy. Both fillies and colts. Happy together in marriage. To be filled with seed, to wear his musk and possess a stinky scent, and to bear foals. What more joy can a wife ask for?”

That’s what the elder had said and always said while she , her sisters, and the other seventeen selected wives were fucked by their husbands in public. Those words came straight from old, sacred texts and he repeated them at each event. But it was true. She loved her now stinky bald head, her ever-smelly rear, and to reek her husband’s stench all the time. She loved it beyond words. But as the elder finished, so did the husbands, including Zhamir, and they filled their holes.

Cum had splattered to the ground, echoing around the square before a heavy session of nuzzling and a second rutting commenced.

Regret came back into her mind and in that moment the doors opened to reveal Zhamir, other stallions, and the King himself. All of them sniffed at the mixed stinky stench of so many mares gathered in one room and each mare greeted her husband. Zecora nuzzled with Zhamir for a few seconds before whispering. “There’s something I have to tell you, my love.”

Zhamir didn’t ask motives or reasons and simply followed his wife to the gardens where they could find some proper privacy. Finding a good position, she began.

“My beloved, it wounds my heart that I have been a stupid mare. I made an error… I was too busy but I have no excuse; lie I do not dare. It is not noticeable yet but it will be in a few months. My love… I am pregnant,” she revealed her secret with great shame in her voice. Instead of finding her husband angry, stupefied, or shocked, she found him smiling widely, his mane now regrowing steadily. Before she could react, he swooped her from her hooves and tossed her back onto the grass. A second later, he began licking, kissing, and cooing at her still flat belly.

“I’m going to be a papa! I’m going to be a father!” He muttered to himself, happy as can be and unable to contain his joy. “Oh, my beloved Zecora, who cares about our plans!? We never should’ve waited so long in the first place! I was selfish, but no more, if I can’t be King, then so be it! I’ll be a father instead and it will be just as good! Forgive me from depriving you from the greatest experience any mare can have: the joy of pregnancy and being a mother. After all, mares are at their best when they are raising foals and being impregnated by their husbands over and over again. To raise foals, to educate them, and to form a big, happy family.”

Looking up at her, he smiled through teary eyes. “I love you, Zainabu.”

“And I love you, my husband, owner of my heart and soul,” she leaned forth in order to nuzzle him. “I’m so proud and happy to carry our first foal!”

The future was uncertain, but by the Spirits they would make the best out of it.

Chapter 9 End.

Author's Note

Special thanks to anyone that read this!