“AhHHHHH!”

Bon Bon’s ears flicked forward as Lyra’s head was thrown back, golden sparks from her horn firing back into the earth-bruiser pony’s chest as he laid into her with aviolent buck.

She’d had a front-row view to Lyra’s deep, hard rutting. The whole thing had been taking place right off the end of her nose, she was only inches from her roommate’s face… but Lyra had been so far gone that she’d barely noticed her. Instead, her eyes would continually flick up at her lover, twinkling and sparkling for him in ways that Bon Bon had always wished she’d look at her.

But these thoughts had difficulty forming in Bon Bon’s mind.

She’d only just recovered herself from the copious, overflowing, orgasm she’d shared with Crunch. One moment she’d been filled to the very brim while sitting in that chair, and when next her consciousness had returned from its semi-autonomic state, she was propped up on this table, her friend getting the horseapples rutted out of her… and Crunch right behind Bon Bon’s rump.

“Mmmf…”

Bon Bon’s eye quivered as she felt a heavy, wet prod against her marehood. She glanced in the mirror to get a view of what it was… Crunch’s tongue.

Y-yes… yes.

Her mind weakly hummed its approval. Her pussy was aching so badly, ever since ingesting all of that potent stallion essence. It felt needy, sore, desperate… empty.

Bon Bon had never been the type of filly-fooler who found she needed toys to fill herself, but Goddesses above and below had that ever changed. It was so clear to her now, so crystal clear… her marehood needed to be filled, the only way it could be satisfied.

She needed cock and a whole lot of it.

Crunch’s tongue roughly pressed against her, followed by an almost rude spit of saliva over her hot, winking, pink nethers. Completely unnecessary too, as she was already pouring a hot mess of steamy marecum in dribbling drips to the mine floor below.

Crunch’s tongue pushed in, penetrating her roughly and swirling left and right clumsily, before quickly withdrawing, “Fuck me, tighter than a preteen schoolfilly!”

Bon Bon moaned, the dim shock of considering that her lover might have first-hoof experience with an innocent filly quickly washed away... the modern world’s rules, taboos and morals easily overcome by the ancient engine of sexual selection the Quantihol had stirred to life deep within her: he was her stud. Of course, he would be sowing his genetic material wherever able! She was just lucky to have him now, to have claimed him against all those other hussies.

“Ready, you rug-muncher?”

Crunch’s tongue snaked out again, flicking back and forth against Bon Bon’s lovenub. His awkward movements against her fat clit were too bold, without any subtlety. He battered the bulb of pleasure back and forth like a boxing-bag.

Bon Bon had lain with world-class cunnilinguists. Mares who were renowned amongst the lurid Canterlonian noble social circles. Mares who could take her as high as Luna’s moon for hours of unending pleasure.

And all those experiences died and fell a distant second to the haphazard and hurried clumsy flicks of Crunch’s amateur oral licks merely because he was so perfectly, hugely, male.

Her stallion.

Bon Bon groaned out, the clenching desperation from her gut exploding up her throat with a raspy creaking sigh, as she was rocked by an orgasm after only a moment of Crunch’s ministrations.

An orgasm like she’d never had before from a mare’s mouth, sending her marehood into a series of winking convulsions, grasping again and again at the air, flashing open and shut again and again in preparation for the stallionhood it demanded.

“That’s it, now Poppa Crunch is gonna fix that filly-foolin’ cunt of yours… show you what you’ve been missing.” Crunch stood up, flexing his pelvic muscles to make his long, hard stallionhood slap up against his belly as he clambered up onto the table. He stroked a wing along Bon Bon’s left side, up to her sweaty mane, licking her ear as he whispered. “Would you like Daddy to fix you, filly?”

The disgusting words slid past Bon Bon’s ears. Some dim, distant, melting part of her mind considered lashing out at such repugnant thinking… but before it could even form a thought it was gone, churned back up into the frothing boil of erotic satisfaction that bubbled through her grey matter.

“Mmm… mmhmm…” Bon Bon groaned, wriggling her plot. Anything to get this stud of hers inside her.

Now.

“That’s a good little filly,” Crunch chortled, putting one of his hooves square in between Bon Bon’s shoulder blades, and the other on the back of her head, pushing her face down into the tabletop. “Now, spread those hinds for daddy.”

Bon Bon did her best to comply, though her rear hooves were basically on their tippy-toes. She shifted her legs wider, quickly losing contact with the ground and finding herself hovering in mid-air. But her stud didn’t care — he slid his hips into position, pushing her legs even wider with his own, spreading her plot bare.

“Please…!” Bon Bon groaned, hiking her tail as high as it would go, arching her hips agonizingly backward… she needed him.

Crunch had good aim, and good timing: there was no slow, deliberate press against her. He speared his way into her.

Bon felt a pinch of pain and then an unbelievably wide stretch of her marehood as the pegasus’s big pink cock thrust up and into her body.

The nerves in her pussy wall barely had time to react, each inch of her private, pink tunnel being violently strained far beyond any width they’d been asked to accommodate before. Inch after inch of throbbing, pulsingly thick bruiser-cock slid into her squelching marehood, as her tight lips shuddered and squeezed in chaotic convulsions.

This wasn’t like any penetrative experience she’d had in her life. Be it the fumbling few disappointing experiences she’d had with stallions, the languid and lascivious strap-on nights she’d entertained with fillyfriends, or even the odd time she’d play with a piece of recreational silicone… Bon Bon’s body was used to taking small things… slowly.

This… this was a power-fuck by an alpha-stud.

An overly well-endowed stud.

His huge stallioncock dwarfed even the largest of coolers in her toybox, a gag gift that she’d never even considered using. And he had casually bucked half of it into her body in one uncaring, simple thrust.

Bon Bon’s body ached and shifted, her insides twisting and bulging as a new ridge protruded up through her lower abdomen, between her teats, and partway to her bellybutton… an outward bump of displaced marebody, driven by Crunch’s fat cock.

All at once, she felt that explosive shudder ripple through her again, a delayed reaction to the sudden injection of pure, stud-testosterone that she’d been so desperate to receive. Bon Bon grit her teeth together, biting down hard at the pain-pleasure mix of the contraction that fired all of her sexual muscles at once, clenching against Crunch’s pussy-stuffing cock in swirling, milking grasps.

“Damn, fucking tight little filly,” Crunch snarled, bucking into the grasps of Bon Bon’s pussy. “Don’t know if yer’ enjoyin’ this, but I sure as hell am!”

She was enjoying it!

Her clenching grasps had made her marehood thrum into a wink, one which seemed to never end. This had made her big, fat clitoris strain out from its usual hiding spot, standing at attention at the mouth of her gaping, stretched marehood.

One of her fillyfriends had joked that Bon Bon had the biggest lovenub she’d ever seen… but it liked to hide, deep within the thick folds of her nether lips.

It wasn’t hiding now.

The throbbing pinkish-red bundle of ultra-concentrated pleasure nerves was grinding against Crunch’s cock, bouncing along the outer surfaces of veins and bumps as he slid more and more and more into her writhing body, each friction-filled touch flooding her nethers with pleasure.

“Ahnnnh!!!” Bon Bon heard herself scream into the table, unaware of having even started to open her mouth. It was like she had to release some of the roiling, magmatic energy building up deep inside her, lest it consume her from the inside out, the flicker of a flame too bright for its container.

He surged into her, deeper and deeper. Plowing through her, spreading her.

In only the briefest flicker of her heartbeat he was at her womb, his throbbing-pink head slammed up against her deep, hidden vault.

The touch set Bon Bon off once again, a secondary explosion of pleasure that detonated with the ferocity of a firebomb.

She used to hate the touch of anything against her cervix — she often chose toys and strapons that were deliberately on the short side. Any accidental contact usually brought with it an unpleasant cinch of painful discomfort, often followed by a very quick end to whatever erotic activity was underway.

But not now.

The kiss of Crunch’s cockhead against her womb felt like a key sliding into a well-oiled hole: clacking and clunking with clumsy impact, yes… but oh so right.

It was like the final bastion of her femininity was finally being assaulted. The castle keep, deep within her fortress of closed and controlled emotional spirituality… being battered to pieces by this battering ram of male power.

“Gnhh… y-yeshhh!” Bon Bon’s grunting acclamation was half lost into the table, her face still mushed into it by Crunch’s heavy, pressing hoof.

“You like that, filly?” Crunch laughed, starting to withdraw slightly.

Bon Bon moaned, disappointed at the slight removal of Crunch’s wonderfully filling stallionhood. Her marehood clasped to his thick pink shaft, tight enough to create a sucking force within her that pulled at her cervix.

“You want your big. Bad. Daddy. Don’t you?” Each staccato delivery of his vapid sex-talk was accompanied by a vicious thrust of his long, stiff rod. Slamming against her womb with all the momentum the short, three-inch withdrawals would allow him to muster.

“Y-yesh… yesssh!” Bon Bon moaned back, desperate that her stud would hear her answer.

“You gotta let me in then, filly,” Crunch growled. Bon Bon felt his heavy forehoof ungrasp her mane, releasing her from being pressed callously into the table. It dragged along her back sharply, leaving a fire trail of pressure in its wake as it slid down to her ample flank and hooked in against her hipbone. “Just relax and let Poppa in, babe.”

His pounding was coming with more force now, the muscles in his hindlegs joined by the strength in his forearms pulling back against her lower body. She could feel the tight gateway to her inner-womb slowly stretching open, parting with agonizing slowness.

“P-puhleese...please…” Bon Bon whined, her eyes having trouble focusing. Goddesses, she wished she could simply relax and let him in, wished she had some conscious control over those muscles.

“Bad, bad filly.”

*SMACK*

A hard, stinging strike flashed out against her left flank, with enough force to bruise. Crunch had swung his heavy huff with ungentle speed.

The roiling impact of pain-pleasure landed like a boulder thrown into a pond, heavy ripples crashing out in all directions, sending her nerves and muscles into a cacophony of mad reaction, twitching and spasming in confused waves, uncertain whether to tense or relax.

And he slipped in.

All at once, another five inches of steel-hard, steaming-pink stallioncock thrust into her.

Bon Bon felt a stretching sting in her marehood, as her lips let Crunch’s donut-sized medial ring punch into her, the final third of his huge stallionhood opening her even more than before — his thick, girthy cock-base taking her smaller body to its utmost limits.

“AHhhN! F-Fuh… FUCK!” Bon Bon’s head and necked arched backward, ripping up off the table in reaction to the sensation.

“Mmm! Yeah filly, fuck… good girl!” Crunch snarled, pushing harder with his lower body, spearing his long, heavy cock into Bon Bon, grinding her stomach into the tabletop.

“S-suh… Celestia!” Bon Bon moaned into the ceiling, begging to her deity in this moment of overwhelming pleasure. Crunch was inside her womb. His fat, pink stallionhead thrusting back and forth in her deepest, most sacred depth.

Her head bobbed and wobbled, bouncing loosely on its tired, drunken sinews. Her eyes whirled drunkenly, her pupils dilated into heart-shapes of different sizes. Through the haze she could see Lyra across from her, in a similar state — unable to control herself, eyes askew and tongue lolling.

Fluids spilling from both sets of lips.

“Yeah, filly — fuck I think I’m actually going to hilt you!” Crunch yelped, an excited giddiness in his voice.

Good! Bon Bon’s mind surged with happiness at the thought of pleasing her lover, her stallion. I want all of him. Every inch!

Another inch, and another, each pistoning thrust of Crunch’s hips pushing more and more of his meat into her. She could feel his heavy tip against the far end of her womb now, pressing against the back wall, driving her whole reproductive system up her body.

Already it was getting hard to keep drawing the deep, shuddering breaths that had accompanied her moaning grunts — Crunch’s thrusts were slamming against the underside of her diaphragm, making every other breath miss its catch, sucking precious wind from her respiratory tract and leaving her dizzy with lack of oxygen.

And then she felt it.

Her lover’s hips against her.

The wet kiss of her soaking marehood against his groin.

He had hilted.

“Ahnnnn...!” Bon Bon’s mouth parted again in a long, low, triumphant wail. Her body, still an unending tempest of orgasm since Crunch’s insertion, peaked anew.

Despite the feeling of impossible, total, complete fullness, Bon Bon’s plot emptied itself — hot streams of sloshing, squirting marecum splattering out, washing down Crunch’s legs in a messy geyser of obscene sounding splatters as she unloaded every bit of steaming love-lubrication.

“Shit, babe!” Crunch paused in his thrusts, leaving his member completely embedded in her. “Amazing!” He patted her flank.

Crunch nodded across the table at his partner. “Brother, I can’t fuckin’ believe it… she took me. All of me! Bud, I ain’t hilted a mare since I was a colt at the Cloudsdale orphanage!”

Bon Bon saw the head-shaking grin returned by Trunch, who simply gestured at the mirror with his chin. “Same — I ain’t hilted her yet. But she took my buckin’ ring. My ring!”

Bon Bon could see Lyra’s plot — it looked like she’d been skewered by some kind of bizarre, fleshy tree-trunk. Trunch’s visible massive cockbase was an ebony black, the mottled portion which shifted to a darkish red buried deep within Lyra’s body.

The unicorn’s marehood lips were almost invisible, they’d been strained so wide, her flanks and hips were being wrenched open by the gargantuan love wedge.

It was larger than a foal’s head! As large as a watermelon!

And he was still working more into her!

Somewhere, deep inside her, a strange pride bubbled. She and Lyra were servicing these feral stallions in the primitive ways of old — ways that would have made their ancestral matrons proud.

Bon Bon steeled herself, trying to call some command back into her muscles, squeezing and rippling her stretched, extended vaginal tunnel… doing all she could to milk her snorting, dominant stallion, to be the ideal receptacle for his precious genetic gift.

She strained her neck forward, an unconscious reaction to her attempt to elongate herself for Crunch, as if stretching her head forward would somehow make her throbbing reproductive tube, from lips to the uterine back wall, longer.

Immediately she felt her nose bump against something, and her eyes flicked forward, struggling to focus on the point just in front of them through the hazy blur of pleasure and wobbling pupils.

It was Lyra!

At about the same time, Lyra’s eyes caught hers. Even despite the tremendous fucking she was receiving, the sheer surges of pleasure that spilled over the unicorn’s ability to think, Bon Bon could still see the flashes of that beautiful spirit, that goofy soul, in those golden, heart-shaped pupils.

Goddesses I love her. So much!

Bon Bon’s heart thumped in her chest. Her whole being was already an open vessel, an object to be filled with flesh, fluid and love. There was still room in her heart for her desperate, secret crush… alongside the strong, powerful presence of her devotion to her stud’s cock,

Could she now, at this impossible moment, actually attempt to finally show her affection… her secret love… to the unicorn? After all those aborted attempts? All those silent, underhoofed hints that fell on her deaf ears?

Another thumping thrust rammed into her, this one with enough pumping backforce to swing Crunch’s heavy pink balls swinging up to strike the insides of her dangling legs. Bon Bon’s mind registered the weight of them, those two heavy eggs filled with the precious material that would spawn their perfect foals,

A second thrust brought them swinging back again, like the pendulum on a grandfather clock.

Crunch was finding his rhythm, increasing in speed and force. Wet smacks of his soaked groin against her hips were filling the room as he hammered her rear, violently bumping her forward.

And just like that, her snout was thrust up against Lyra’s.

After all this time, all those months… all that worrying and fretting and anxiety. It was the pounding thrusts of a dominant, brute of a powerful, masculine stallion that achieved for her what she’d been too scared to attempt.

Bon Bon watched Lyra’s eyes flare wide at the contact, the heart pupils jerking front and center in a moment of clarity, clearly seeing her. The taste of the mint-green unicorn’s lip was frosted with the salty, musky tang of Trunch’s semen, distinct and yet just as delectably intoxicating as Crunch’s effusion… and yet it was so perfect on Bon Bon’s lips, more perfect than even her wildest imaginations could have conceived.

She groaned in time with Lyra, as their lips began to open at the same time.

Bon Bon felt a thump of excitement in her heart so potent that it pulsed the unending spurt of orgasmic pleasure reverberating through her to a new high — Lyra wanted to kiss her back!

In so many scenarios she’d envisioned the beautiful, aloof lyre-player turning away from her in disgust, a friendship ruined, her dreams scattered like the shards of a cider-bottle thrown down a dark alleyway.

But the unicorn was smiling, the edges of her mouth curling up with drunken joy at their first kiss. It was so sweet, the tickle of Lyra’s breath against her nose, the sliding wetness of lip over lip.

It was only made sweeter by the stretching, straining pleasure of hard, huge, stallionmeat fucking her. Such a perfect combination of her true heart’s desire with the true body’s biological needs, a gushing ecstasy of soul-fulfillment that made her spirit fill to bursting.

Right on cue, Trunch unleashed a particularly sharp thrust of his own, in conjunction with a frightening snarl of focused aggression. Bon Bon couldn’t see if he’d somehow managed to drive the impossible final inch of his trunk into her, or if the sheer, jamming friction of his width against Lyra’s skeletal structure had proved too much, but the humping assault flung Lyra forward, deeper into the pair’s shared kiss.

Suddenly their tongues were dancing with each other, struggling to taste and feel and find a position in the hot, languid embrace of their open muzzles. Bon Bon’s eyes alternated between open and shut, melting into the passionate release of the kiss and letting her vision fade into a sea of dark, overwhelming sensation… before a sharp thrust of white-hot, stallion-driven pleasure would flicker her eyes into full, wide-open brightness, spinning and swirling with the nerve-popping firestorm in her mind.

The crackle of Lyra’s horn against Bon Bon’s forehead only added to the surreal, overwhelming fuck-embrace. Magic scents like the acrid scent of gunpowder mixed with the welcome stink of hot, foggy, stallion-mare sex as golden energy flickered against her sweaty mane.

The pulse of warm, golden energy slipped into her — like dumping a bucket of soapy water into an overfilled bath: creating an explosion of sloshing bubbles from the new mixture of liquids. It was almost like the giddy, goofy, oh-so-horny energetic nature of her crush was inside her… as much a part of her as the thrusting stallionhood punching against her womb.

With the surge of magical energy, Bon Bon felt Lyra’s presence more intensely than ever — she could feel Lyra’s pulses of excitement, of pleasure, of sheer rut-madness. When she flicked her tongue against the underside of Lyra’s, it almost felt like she had two tongues, the feedback of horn-magic binding the two mares together.

A new surge of straining, stretching pleasure washed over Bon Bon like a warm shower downpour. She could feel just how impossibly, irreversibly opened Lyra’s marehood was — a perfect, magical empathy of femininity as real as if Trunch’s stallionhood were in her.

It was not as deep as Crunch’s spearing, deep shaft… but it was oh-so-much thicker. Together, both the magical and real sensations combined into a singular, complete overload of stallionhood-acceptance that would have been impossible to achieve by either mare with the constraints of their physiological reality.

She wondered if Lyra was receiving the same sensations from her — if the two had merged into one, indistinguishable mess of broken-in mare… unable to extricate themselves from one another as their minds and bodies became slaves to the raw unending pleasure their stallions were pouring into them.

“MnNNfFff…!!” Lyra groaned into her throat.

Or was it Bon Bon groaning into Lyra?

Such distinctions scarcely mattered now.

The two mares were melting into one another, distinctions blurring through the connected conduits of mouth and horn.

The giddy, goofy energy of Lyra coursed through Bon Bon’s body and mind, as her stern and sardonic energy was welcomed in kind by Lyra.

The sensations, the pleasure, the raw magic-spiritual flow would surge up and down with dizzying intensity, like the electrocardiogram of a sprinting pegasus athlete, each peak coming with the powerful thrust of the stallions pounding their tight mare bodies.

At first, it was chaotic, Crunch pounding away with a haphazard, sprinting cadence… while Trunch favored a slow, grinding, metronomic series of heavy hip-thrusts. This left the mares lost in a thrashing sea of chaotic white-water, waves of pleasure crashing from all directions. The moment it seemed they’d be able to catch their breath from the withdrawal of a stretching push of Trunch’s trunk… Crunch’s womb-jabbing thud-thrust would send a new cascade of thumping, breath-stealing ecstasy into them.

Their tongues writhed and clattered against each other, just as randomly. Sometimes clearing the way for one of them to steal a precious breath of air, sometimes interrupting that gasp and leaving them dizzy from partial-asphyxiation.

Slowly, their studs found their rhythm.

Crunch slowed. Trunch sped up.

The two were see-sawing in and out of them now with a determined, powerful beat… like the time-measure of some kind of booming, erotic symphony of squelches and splatters.

Lyra and Bon Bon found their rhythms too: Bon Bon dominating and pinning Lyra’s tongue as Crunch’s long cock speared them both, using the pleasure-spike of pressure against her womb to ratchet up her adrenaline and let her attack Lyra’s squirmy pink oral muscle… before Trunch’s huge, stretching, trunk would begin its breath-stealing thrust… and Lyra’s clever little tongue would take the upper-hoof, darting along the insides of Bon Bon’s teeth and mouth while the earth-mare shuddered under the feeling of fullness conveyed through Lyra’s sparking, sputtering horn.

Bon Bon wasn’t sure how long they stayed in that wondrous, pleasure-spiking, crescendo of flesh. The moment that one thrust ended, despite her best efforts, it was impossible to keep it in a tally. Her mind had long ago lost the ability to make any sense of the overwhelmed and over-excited neural flows pouring into its memory banks.

Time was losing its meaning.

Bon Bon was having trouble even existing in the moment.

Thrust after thrust, pounding push after pounding push.

Only the burning ache of her over-taxed muscles, quivering with lactic acid from having been kept pinned in an orgasmic state for so long, gave any indication of the length of the steamy, rut-session.

Dimly, deep in the recesses of her mind, she knew that this was irregular for the average stallion. Setting aside her disappointing experience in her college dorm, and the quickshot-colt who had lasted about as long as two-shakes of a cupcake baker’s tail, she knew that most stallions were good for maybe a minute of rutting. Two if the mare was lucky.

It just wasn’t in the biology of a modern equestrian pony to have an extended coital excursion. Evolution didn’t want any mucking around: colts needed to dump their genetic payload and dismount.

But that was all thrown to the wind now — Lyra and her were being absolutely fucked.

That screeching, feminine biological need in her gut was begging, crying out for the release of the long-awaited stud-batter… driving her mad with impatience even as she was pinned to the stratospheric heights of rut-pleasure.

“F-fuck!” The heavy grunt snarled from Trunch’s grimacing lips, a bass rumble that shook through the humid, heavy air. “I’m g-gonna… fuuuuck!”

The gargantuan earth-pony bruiser’s thrusts became erratic, disjointed. He pounded Lyra’s backside with sudden violence, showing just how much of his herculean strength he had been holding back. Lyra’s face smashed into hers, hard enough to make it feel like she’d been struck with a hoof-slap.

Bon Bon could see Lyra’s heart-shaped eyes go strikingly wide with fear, her breath catching in her throat as she started to ride out the orgasm of her stallion.

Through the crackling horn-connection, Bon Bon felt a terrifying surge of width, a pulsed expansion of Trunch’s rigid cock-trunk as his body triggered its unstoppable orgasmic cascade, unlocking any final muscular barriers that were preventing the final flooding of his hot stallion-blood into his overly huge cock.

For a moment it felt like Lyra was about to burst. Her lithe, slender unicorn body torn in two by the wedge of cockflesh throbbing to new, horrifyingly-wide girthiness inside her. Bon Bon felt the flush of fear from her lover’s horn as she gave up, resigning herself to being rent apart by the stallionhood, her marehood and depths taken far beyond their limits.

Then Trunch flared.

The huge, knobby flower blossomed inside Lyra’s womb, going from a melon-sized ball to a dinner-plate-wide hunk of pulsing-red cockhead-flesh. The bulge in her littlegreen tummy pooled outward into a lumpy, bumpy hump.

Bon Bon watched her friend’s eyes flicker, felt the spurting energy of her horn crackle and sputter as she nearly passed out, submitting her fate to be that of a mere stallion-cock sleeve.

“F-F-FUUCccKkCK!” The screaming, whinnying roar brought mining dust shaking off the ceiling.

Bon Bon watched with wonder as Lyra’s eyes shot back to full, sparkling openness. Deliriously quivering in their sockets as a wide, ridiculous smile stretched across the mare’s muzzle. Her horn-connection streamed back into full, magic-spewing life… conveying her sensations more potently than ever before.

Trunch was unloading into her!

Through Lyra, Bon Bon could feel the huge, pulsing dollops of stallion-seed splattering into the unicorn’s womb. Steaming, sloshing-thick cream swirling and churning as the fertile seed raced up from the grunt’s massive orchidal grapefruits, surged down his heavy black-red pipe, and raged out of his wide cock-slit as if somepony had broken the stopper off a town fire-hydrant.

And the relief!

It was as if each cell of Lyra’s uterus was a parched, thirsty arid acre of desiccated farmland… and Trunch’s slurry of frothing-semen was the first deluge of the monsoon season… nay, was the flood of the nearby irrigation canal into the field… turning the once dry, sucking soil into a messy,happy and fertile-mud pit.

Thrum after thrum of pure pleasure wracked the happy unicorn, the healing salve of fertile ejaculatory fluid slaking the furious biological thirst to bear the strong, healthy foals of her stud. Clench after clench rippled through her body, milking sucks that pulled the spurting log of horseflesh deeper and deeper into her, every muscle participating in the powerful winks that tried to coax every drop of stallion-batter, trying to wring her lover completely dry and eke out every last sperm cell from his heavy, black balls.

The waves of pleasure reverberated into Bon Bon as well, making her coat hairs stand on end, the crackling unicorn-magic energy acting like static electricity. But the thaumic-pleasure was not merely staying at the surface layer… it roiled into Bon Bon’s flesh, shuddering into her body.

“MNnnngh!” Bon Bon’s moan echoed out into her lover’s mouth — the intensity of her orgasm taking on a new, more fulfilling tone — one in which her fervent need to be bred was being tantalizingly, teasingly, oh-so-slightly satisfied.

This hint of what-could-be triggered her body to take the next step: it knew what it needed to do to experience that uber-orgasm wracking Lyra itself.

“AH! F-f-fuck! Inside!” Bon Bon’s mouth broke free of Lyra’s muzzle with a loud pop, her head thrashing left and right. Then her pussy began to milk.

She’d never known that her body was capable of this, that there was some biological coding deep inside her that could pulse in jerking squeezes up her entire length, tightening and relaxing with perfect timing that pulled at Crunch’s long, stiff, pink length with as much skill as an Appleloosan milkmare.

“Grargh! Holy buckin’ shit!” Crunch’s face grit with focus, and his hooves dug more tightly into Bon Bon’s flanks as he endured the sudden activation of the demanding vaginal suckling.

With a heavy clatter of his hooves, he fell forward, fully covering Bon Bon and bringing his panting, teeth-gritting face next to hers, even as he continued pounding her with unending, ultimate cock-strokes.

“Crazy… B-bitch!” His snarl was as ferocious as his pounding rhythm.

“G-give it to ME!” Bon Bon groaned back, punctuating her demand with a powerful clench against her stud’s cockbase. She couldn’t believe how hoarse her voice was, aching and dripping with desire like she was a two-bit back alley slut enduring her second heat.

A sharp, painful, pinch stung her neck. It felt like a wasp sting, except that it was hot… and wet.

He bit me!

Bon Bon’s left-rear leg kicked out wildly against the feel of the love-nip, whiffing as it missed her rut-stud, narrowly avoiding crushing his knee in the wild bucking kick of passion.

Locked onto the nape of her neck, Crunch’s next thrust was harder, fiercer, deeper than any before… pushing so hard against her insides Bon Bon wondering if the rearrangement of her guts would ever return to normal… if she even wanted it to.

And then he held himself there.

Bon Bon felt her milking clenches tense as all her overcharged awareness heightening further… like the heady anticipation of excitement a pony felt when cresting the top of a rollercoaster hill. She knew what was coming…

Coming…

Her marehood lips felt it first.

A heavy strain as the pink pegasus cock grew by a half-inch in girth as red-hot, inflating blood boiled up his shaft… growing every slender vein and medial ring and fleshy-knob to new, dizzying sizes.

Pulse after pulse followed the first, each ballooning his size inside her, a raucous kick-start of the ejaculatory sequence ınto full gear, akın to a dıesel engıne turning over wıth heavy, choking grunts… before roaring to life.

Her gut shifted and groaned as the blossoming flower of Crunch’s flare dug into every surface of her womb, nubby spikes of red-pink ridge-bumps digging in with friction to firmly embed him into her thirsty uterus.

She felt that first bulging pulse of her alpha stud’s seed surge into her, the wide stretch of stretching cock-base pressing up against her throbbing lovebud with its sheer size, before slipping into her hot, tight interior.

The milking clench of her pussy-walls gripped just behind the surging cock-pulse, timed perfectly to clench behind the wave of boiling stallion-genetic-payload racing up the huge pink bruiser’s shaft as it raced deeper and deeper into her well-stretched love-tunnel…

Before exploding into her womb!

“Suh-S-elehstiaAAAaaaaAaannnh~!” Bon Bon’s nearly indistinguishable, slurred moan of the Princess’s holy name reverberated off of the slate walls of the cave, lasting as long as her breeding-stud’s orgasm.

That first ejaculatory pulse alone had annihilated Bon Bon’s consciousness. She’d been teetering on the edge of sanity, a punch-drunk boxer staggering about the ring, waiting for the knockout hoofstrike to send her to the mat.

Crunch’s spattering explosion landed like she’d been punched out of the stadium.

The effect of the Quantihol, the heightened magical conduit with Lyra, the seemingly unending orgasms of pure, biological pleasure… it all combined into a dangerously potent peak of dopamine, oxytocin and magical pleasure-thaums… powerful enough to even damage.

The pulse was more potent than some of the hardest and deadliest street drugs, more addictive by far.

At that moment, all that was Bon Bon was reduced to nothing more than a receptacle for pleasure and biological purpose. She was nothing more than the vessel for her spasming, spurting marehood and its genetic foundry to produce more foals, to satisfy that cellular-deep desire to reproduce.

What did Bon Bon, secret S.M.I.L.E. agent, friend, earth-pony,even matter against this cosmic perfection of being so fundamentally bucked?

Even as every sensation overloaded, as everything collapsed into a black hole of pleasure, her neurons choking and stalling like a crashing computer with the electrical storm of Crunch’s orgasm, some minute nerve streams came into sharp focus.

She could feel the boiling churn of thick, creamy stallion-gravy as it swirled and sloshed inside her. The heavy, fire-hydrant like stream geysering from Crunch’s spasming cock-slit quickly filling her womb.

Her uterine wall could taste the slurry of potent, masculine material. The churn of bubbling semen from the rugged, stallion-ly stud containing enough testosterone in a drop to send a schoolcolt ınto early puberty.

As quickly as her stallion’s first load finally began to trickle-off, becoming a light eking dribble, the second splattering explosion poured forth, overtaking the last vestiges of the first ejaculatory-blast.

Bon Bon could see his heavy pink balls clenching, shooting up to smack his underside, pulsing and quivering with intensity as they dumped out the precious seed contained within.

“UHnnnnNNGNnnnnnHNNHhnnn~!” Bon Bon’s follow on moans rose and fell in intensity with the pulsing spurts of her breeding-mate’s shots, as the sheer force of their expulsion blasted against her uterine wall. She didn’t care that she sounded like some kind of broken machine, damaged by the sloshing squirts of her marehood being completely stuffed with rich, creamy stallion batter.

Her stud really was the more prodigious of the two when it came to quantity of semen — where Trunch was a ruptured water main of ejaculatory volume, Crunch was an emergency dam overflow valve.

Pulse after pulse of potent stallion-seed shot into her, each lasting seconds and seemingly overshadowing the amount of the previous. It wasn’t even possible to compare this sumptuous semen offering to that of the pathetic dribble of that young stallion from her college days… it would be like comparing a cup of water poured over your head to a jacuzzi with the jets on full blast.

“GRrRRRAGh…!” Crunch’s growl into her neck, still nipping her, was feral and wild. Almost unhinged.

By the time her stud’s fourth steaming shot began to pack her womb, Bon Bon was beginning to feel stuffed. The sensation was akin to wolfing down the entirety of a hearth-swarming banquet. Her belly began to strain, expand, to stretch her cream-colored belly fur, her muscular and trained agent body starting to become plump and pudgy as she expanded.

Quickly, the pushy expansion overtook the knobby cockflare-bulge protruding through her skin, replacing it with the appearance of a gravid mare, perhaps months into a pregnancy.

And he still wasn’t done.

More and more shots… eight… nine… ten…

She stopped counting after ten.

It was hard to count when your belly-button had just popped from an innie to an outie because your belly was starting to lift you off a table from sheer cum-stuffedness.

“Sh-SHIT!” Crunch unclenched his love bite, swearing in happy satisfaction at his accomplishment up at the ceiling of the mine, he let out a final, deep, glowing sigh as the last splatter of cum dripped into the churning magma-pocket of Bon Bon’s womb. “Fuckin’ ruined this cunt, damn!”

Bon Bon heard him chuckle as he almost tenderly massaged her backside. For some reason, this gesture touched her, made her feel so loved. This was her stud, proud of her for taking his fat, steaming load… for letting her womb be used as his foal factory.

“‘Yer a good little bitch!” He grunted, poking and prodding at her backside with his hoof. “I have no idea how you were able to take all of that, shit. Hope you don’t mind raisin’ my foals solo.” He stared down at her with those big, eyes, set above his square, masculine chin.

Bon Bon’s heart fluttered and a big grin spread across her face. Her stud was talking about their foals! Her hopes and dreams swirled, a mixture of cocks, cum and babies… washing away anything that had been there before.

“Mmm...mmmhmm…” She hummed, nodding with dewy, heart-shaped eyes.

“‘Cuz sure as fuck after you vouch for us to get us outta here, I’m droppin’ you like a hot skillet, babe.”

*Ker-PLOP!*

A wet, sticky POP filled the room. Crunch’s stallionhood had softened, just enough to break the plug-like seal of Bon Bon’s tight-marehood against his thick base. Try as her body might to retain the precious genetic fluid, the sheer pressure of the churning cum was far too much… it began to schlorp out of her in messy, obscene sprays.

N-no! I need it… every drop!

“...even if you got the nastiest little snatch I ever destroyed. Damn, babe!” Crunch laughed again, looking down at her with wonder as he started to slide his drooping, softening pink stallionhood out of her body, its incredible length and girth eased out by the lubricating flow of draining cum, slowly deflating Bon Bon’s body.

“Nnnnggh….”

“Huh… what?” Crunch leaned in closer.

Bon Bon groaned again, her eyes wild and lips rubbing against each other. She wanted nothing more than to reassure her stud, to let him know that she hadn’t meant to let him slide out, hadn’t meant to let the precious material escape!

If only she could…Bon Bon, leaned and turned at the same time, suddenly finding herself nearly touching Crunch’s face.

Kiss him!

She opened her lips, and closed her eyes, jerking forward to steal a kiss from her beloved stallion.

Instead, she felt the thump of a hoof against her face, knocking her away and pulling the rest of Crunch’s semi-flaccid stallionhood out of her like a plumbing snake, dredging out a great gout of steaming cum as she rolled over on the table.

“Holy SHIT!” Crunch spat and rubbed at his mouth. “Fuck fuck fuck! She almost kissed me, Celestia-damn it! That was buckin’ close! Shit!”

He pranced around like a colt with his hooves on fire, pawing at his tongue and spitting.

“Calm down and shut-up you baby.” Trunch growled as he removed the last of his own softening cock-log from Lyra, the whole heavy weight of it slapping wetly to the floor beneath him without the hydraulic pressure of his raging erection to keep it stiff against his belly. “I was watching, she didn’t touch you.”

“Fuck, but if she did… fuck! I ain’t gonna suck no dick.”

“That’s not how it works, Crunch.” A sigh came from Quantum, who Bon Bon could see had retired to a nearby wall, smoking a cigarette to pass the time as his two bruisers rutted the hell out of these two mares. “But you almost fucked up pretty bad… Speaking of fucking up really bad, where the hell is Dusk with those gags?”

“I’m here, boss,” Dusk grunted, trotting back into the room. “It’s fuckin’ hard trying to use echo-screes to search through boxes, especially boxes filled with adult toys. For the record, you two assholes are disgustin’, clean your shit.”

The bat-teen tossed a strange assortment of leather straps, masks, gags and more onto the slate table.

“I never wanna wrap my hoofsy blindly around a sticky pocket-marehood again, fuck.” Dusk wiped a hoof pointedly against her side. “Gross.”

“Aw fuck yes, this is the shit I’m talking about!” Crunch nickered aloud, holding up the harness. “I never thought I’d get to use this gear.”

Bon Bon watched Dusk Wing stick her tongue out with disgust, her eyes flicking underneath Crunch’s body and then back up. “Sheesh, you’re springing a chubby just from touchin’ the leather? Fuckin’ perv’.”

“Don’t judge a stallion’s fetishes, kiddo. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“Eh, I never been really into that bondage shit either to be honest, Dusk,” Trunch grunted, reaching under himself and taking hold of his big, floppy stallionhood. Bon Bon still couldn’t believe just how heavy it looked, even without it being filled with stallion blood.

As he slung it over his forehoof, the whole thing drooping and laying out like a wet towel, huge drips of sticky semen, mixed with Lyra’s juice left long trails of sticky strands between his shaft and the floor below.

“Well I’m sure you like something,” Crunch grunted, as he began to shift and sort the various straps, buckles and buttons of his harnesses, before chuckling to himself and nodding over at his compatriot, “Yer’ probably one of those weird freaks that jacks it to little filly’s morning cartoon shows.”

“Naw,” Trunch huffed, stretching and groaning as he relaxed, letting the huge bulk of his cock flop with an audible thwump onto the table. Bon Bon could feel the rush of hot, stinking air displaced from the sheer bulk of the tremendous earth-pony’s red-black shaft. “I’ve actually always wanted to do a chick in the ass.”

In the plot!? In her plothole? That?

“Hey, nothing’s stoppin’ you. Chase your dreams, dude.” Crunch chuckled, as he started to cuff the groaning, semi-conscious Lyra with a set of his best bondage-cuffs.

“Yeah, somethin’s stoppin’ him, moron.” Dusk Wing snarled, showing her fangs. “He’s got about as much chance of fuckin’ a mare in her ponut as a semi-trailer has of driving through a mousehole. How’d you like it if I shoved a pineappleup your butt?”

“Don’t get jealous, Dusky.” Crunch chuckled. “Seriously, bud… this is probably the only chance you’ll ever get with that equipment. Go for it.”

“Shit… really?” Bon Bon felt a hoof prod her tired, aching buttocks, grabbing the cheeks and spreading them… then slipping between the sweaty, juice covered crack to grind against her squishy, sensitive tailhole. It made her quiver. “Can I boss?” Trunch sounded like an excited colt on Hearth’s WarmingDay.

“Just don’t kill her. She wants your dick so bad right now she’d take it in her ear if you asked… but it’ll be hard to make our case that we’re cooperating with them if we’ve paralyzed her from the waist down.” Quantum sighed, charging his horn. “You know what… here.”

Bon Bon felt a warm crackle of magical energy, and focused her eyes enough to see Quantum cast a strange, pink bolt of energy lance out in an arc… and stab right up against her ponut. A funny, hot sensation flooded up her rectum, deep into her gut, as if somepony had flushed her out with a wash of warm, soothing water… which then magically dissipated moments later.

“What was that?”

“Old spell from my days at the brothel.” Quantum grinned, “I was a bit of an ass man myself… that should clean things out and keep anything from… breaking. Keeps her stretchy… still: don’t fuckin’ hurt her.”

“OK OK, boss…”

“I mean it.” Quantum grunted, “Don’t break your toys, or I won’t give you any more.”

“Yes, boss.” Bon Bon felt herself lifted up bodily, gently. The big, earth-pony bruiser’s muscles felt like iron bound in furry leather as he held her under her armpits, like a foal might hold up her dolly. It was incredible just how strong this burly stallion truly was.

As easily as a leaf on the wind, she was lifted, tilted, rotated. In between each manipulation, Crunch slid a new strap and buckle into place. Some fit around her belly, some around her forearms, some up her wet, sweat-damp thighs. What had once been a spider-web of leather and brass suddenly became a recognizable harness set-up.

“There we go little filly.” Trunch grumble-chuckled, laying her down on the top of the table, “Now we just cinch this up a little bit…”

Bon Bon groaned as pressure started to come into the straps, pulled on with inch after agonizing inch, compressing her squirrely muscles, sparkling skin, and sticky fur as more tension compressed her body.

She was trapped in a strange position, thick leather straps encircling each of her thighs and securely fastening her to the end of the table, leaving her plot extended just far enough off the end of the ledge to keep it suspended in mid-air.

It was slightly uncomfortable, having to support her own weight as it dangled above the mine floor. Bon Bon had the urge to scooch backward, but the leather restraints kept her there firmly, spread-eagled on the slab. Face-up, belly-exposed to the mine ceiling, it gave her unpleasant memories of the dentist’s office, a place she’d never liked attending.

Powerless.

Her marehood was there for anypony to see, fattened and swollen from the serious rutting she’d just received, her lips pounded slightly with her heartbeat, its subtle throb sending small quantities of Crunch’s prodigious portion of sticky seed sliding from her to splatter onto the ground.

The second pair of braces went around her shoulders, locking her onto the other end of the table. For a moment, she wondered if she should sit up, push back against the locking down sensation…

But Trunch’s heavy hoof gently pressed against her shoulder, and his smile was so handsome, so cock-sure. Gentle and yet filled with power.

He was another powerful stud, another virile stallion.

Bon Bon’s nostrils flared and her eyes twinkled.

She’d do whatever he wanted.

She leaned back, and the buckles clicked more tightly into place, pulling her tightly against the table. Just like with the lower part of her body, now her shoulders were completely locked into place.

There was a shuffle and rustle of activity just below her, drawing her eyes to watch the activity as Lyra was maneuvered into place, lifted by Crunch and positioned so that the unicorn’s warm, slightly-pudgy belly lay flat against her own… though her hind-legs were straddling over Lyra’s head… putting Lyra’s lightly-panting muzzle between Bon Bon’s thighs.

The bruisers had assembled a strange short of fleshy-sandwich out of the two of them, belly-to-belly and ass-to-face… then locked them down with heavy bondage straps, pulling them tightly against one another.

All of Lyra’s weight was landing on her, crushing her into the table. Added to that was the pull of the tight bindings, smushing the two of them together in a hug the like of which neither would have attempted outside of this.

Heavy, clear drippings of marecum and Trunch’s frothy spatter dripped down from Lyra’s plot. They landed like hot, clear raindrops on Bon Bon’s face. At first, she flinched, trying to avoid the lascivioussprinkle, the detritus of lewd and erotic acts that had taken place only moments before.

But the smell.

The stink.

The combined musk of Lyra’s heated marehood, mixed in with the searing potency of an alpha-stud were like ambrosia. The rich, sticky drips fell too randomly far Bon Bon to catch them in her mouth every time, but she tried.

Like a filly catching snowflakes she stuck her mouth as wide as it would go, tongue darting out to try to snatch just one more drip of delicious nec-

*HNNRGHK!*

Skillfully, just as her mouth opened to its widest mark, Crunch slipped a ring gag into her muzzle. The hard bit of plastic jammed in deep against her back molars, clattering in and wedding her mouth wide open.

“There we go… no need to worry about those crazy kisses no more,” Crunch grunted, tapping the side of Bon Bon’s cheek placatingly. “Plus, I buckin’ love the look of a mare with her mouth gagged open!” His grin split his cheeks from ear to ear.

“Gnnahh…” Bon Bon’s soundless grunt slid from her mouth — she wasn’t even sure what she had tried to say: the gag had stolen her ability to even attempt intelligent speech. She’d been reduced to a strapped down, hunk of pleasure flesh, ready to service her hulking studs.

And she was OK with that!

“Heh, I guess I’ll gag this side too.” Trunch’s lower, bass-y rumble came from the other side of the table. “Don’t want the horn-head kissing me while I plow her friend’s asshole.”

He fiddled with the gag, trying to sort a small tangle of straps with his huge, clumsy hooves.

“Belay that.” Quantum’s growl filled the chamber. A smokey, shadow-magic hand raced over and snatched the gag from Crunch’s hooves, tossing it away into a far corner.

“B-boss?” Trunch mumbled, unsure what was going on.

“Watching all this has even got me a little worked up.” He sighed, walking closer to the under-assembly sex-sandwich as he reared up onto his hind-legs. “I think I need a quick little blowie to cool me off, I’m sure you don’t mind if we share, Crunch. Right?”

Crunch looked up from his end of the suspended unicorn.

“Spit roastin’ a leather-bound chick? Fuck no I don’t mind boss.”

“Wait, the boss is droppin’ his dick? And I don’t get to see it?” Dusk Wing whined harumphing as she crossed her arms, “That’s fuckin’ horseapples!”

Bon Bon caught a quick glimpse of the reserved unicorn-boss’s package. It was strange, like her eyes were magnetically drawn to his nethers. She never used to care about what hung between a stallion’s legs, but now she looked, eyes twinkling with all the rapacious greed of Celestia in a pastry shop.

The black stallionhood was reasonably sized. Large for sure, a good twelve or thirteen inches of solid, well-proportioned penis. Compared to the meat-logs that his henchmen were packing, he was diminutive, almost tiny.

Especially compared to Trunch.

Bon Bon didn’t care. Dick was dick. She felt her mouth start to water in anticipation, hopeful that she might get the chance to suckle that wonderful-looking dick as w-

Suddenly, Bon Bon’s vision was plunged into complete darkness, despite the fact her eyes were wide open.

“Eh, you ain’t missin’ much. No offense, boss. Pretty average,” Crunch grunted, as he bound the blindfold he’d just pulled across Bon Bon’s eyes even more tightly, securing it so that it would not be able to move.

“You buckin’ dumbasses don’t know horseapples about what a gal wants,” Dusk sniffed. “Don’t let a couple-a magically bimbo’d up guardsmare-whorses trick you into thinkin’ you hold a candle against a handsome fella like the boss… tell me: is it juicy? Thick? I bet it’s juicy.”

“I don’t know! I ain’t fuckin’ gonna look at it!” Crunch snapped back.

“Shut up, the both of you.” Quantum sighed, exasperated. “Dusk, stop thinking about my dick and keep your ears on the listen out for anything coming down that elevator shaft. Crunch, either get to it or shut up, I don’t care which.”

“You got it, boss.”

Sounds of wet squelches began to fill the air. At first it was just the wet sucking, splatters of marelips doing their utmost to wrap around a cock -- something Bon Bon’s ears had heard a lot of over the past hour. Quickly, it was joined by the sloppy gasps of a struggling mare, Lyra’s grunting moans were part desperation, part satisfaction… the noise of deep cock-suckling as Quantum started face-fucking her friend was unmistakable.

Little drips began to fall across her face, at first just random droplets… like the rain patters that ran just ahead the edge of an approaching thunderhead. Quickly, it turned into a heavy rope of steaming liquid, a mixture of marecum and sticky stallion-batter, laying down in lines across her face, as well as slinging right into her open mouth -- jammed to a full, yawning stretch by the ring-gag jammed against her back molars.

The fuck-froth being plunged out of Lyra’s well-fucked marehood was falling directly down from the debauched congress occurring just above her face, even if she couldn’t see it. It certainly explained the little fleshly taps that Bon Bon was sometimes feeling against her forehead: Crunch’s low-swinging balls were just grazing her face on some of his deeper power thrusts as he bucked the stuffing out of Lyra.

Oh! Buck!

A bolt of tension shot through Bon Bon as she felt the sudden kiss of hot, wide flesh against her tailhole. Her muscles tensed and flexed underneath the restraining leather buckles, unable to pull free or shift even an inch -- the wet meat pushing against her pucker remained firmly centered.

She’d never really considered her asshole sexually before. She’d always ascribed to the ‘exit only’ philosophy. Most of her fillyfooler friends felt the same way: there was plenty of time to be spent exploring a marehood with far better results than going spelunking.

The unavoidable messiness of the backdoor entrance was a turn-off too. Bon Bon did have one past lover who’d surprised her with a tongue that ‘went south’, slithering around her butthole and prodding its centre before she’d been stopped by a warning hoof-tap from Bon Bon. There’d been no kissing or continued cunnlingus after that little adventurous tongue-move… yuck.

But now… holy buck!

Feeling the huge, fat, bell-shaped cockhead squish against her tight, little donut of ass-muscle sent an electric tingle through her sensitive body. It felt like the puffy-ponut press-button was hardwired into her sexual circuitry, the sheer taboo of her heretofore virgin asshole being tested making her marehood and lovebud quiver and clench in sympathy.

It was so new, so foreign! Like taking the first hoofsteps off the train into an unvisited city: full of possibilities and excitement. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of being able to please her beloved breeding-studs by using her hot, tight asshole to squeeze the ever-bucking horseapples out of his flesh.

...but then Trunch started to push.

“Hold tight, filly.” Trunch’s deep, bassy hiss came from over near the sounds of the spirited face-fucking on the other side of the table. “‘Cuz I’m fuckin’ big… and yer’ fuckin’ tight.”

“Gahhnnnn!” Bon Bon started to squeal, her tongue trapped behind the ring-gag and unable to form comprehensible sounds, she only just managed to avoid a coughing choke as her groan allowed one of the slinging strands of sex-string being falling from above her to fall all the way to the back of her throat.

Bon Bon quickly realized that the wide press of flesh against her ponut was only the bulge of Trunch’s head-tip: merely the protruding nose of his saucer-sized flare was enough to be wider than her slender tailhole! As he began to press forward, Bon Bon felt the knobby edge of his head graze her asscheeks -- easily several inches larger than the furrow of her plot where her puffy asshole was nestled.

This was impossible!

Bon Bon squirmed again, that excitement being replaced with fear. Images flashed through her head of ponies impaled on spikes, like in gory horror films, except instead of a spike… she was run-through with a giant, meaty, red-black log of a horsecock!

With her eyes covered by the blindfold, all of her senses were exquisitely tuned to take in the pure feedback of her other senses. Smells, sounds, taste, were all taking a backseat at the moment though -- instead she was completely devoting every spare percentage of mental capacity to the sense of touch coming from her asshole.

The agonizing strain, each sphincter muscle ever-so-slowly giving way as her ponut unrolled like the end of a balloon being forced to accept a tomarehawk missile, the thick ring of tailhole flesh getting thinner and thinner as more of the steaming red cockbulb pushed into her with ever increasing force.

“Fuck me, I ain’t gonna fit.” Trunch grunted, concentration and strain in his voice.

“Push harder, the spell will work. Mmm!” Quantum’s snapped response was cut off by his own groan of pleasure.

“Grraggh!” Bon Bon felt Trunch’s growl right through the vibrations of his stallionhood, as he redoubled his efforts. A squeaking grind scraped through the air: the sound of the huge earth-pony’s hooves digging into the cave floor.

Bon Bon could feel the leather straps biting into her legs, taking the immense force being transmitted into her small body and tiny asshole from the sturdy battering ram of earth-pony cock. The pressure kept mounting and mounting, a screaming force of fuck-thrust all barely contained by the sheer physical limitations of her tailhole.

She squirmed and thrashed, like a fish trapped on a hook… desperate for relief from the impending penetration and all of that heavy potential energy pinpointed against her anus. But it was no use, the straps held her perfectly tight, unable to shift at all, unable to escape… unable to do anything more than groan and moan like a brain-damaged, blinded, pleasure-puppet.

“MnmnnnnnaAANNH! *glrk*” One of Crunch’s and Lyra’s liquid sprays fell perfectly down her esophagus as she moaned, making her catch her breath in an agonizing cough that shuddered her restraints.

And yet… despite the overwhelming, screaming sense of feeling.

She wasn’t in pain?

Bon Bon wasn’t sure what it could be: was it the spell that Quantum had cast up her anus? Was it the long-term, lingering effects of the Quantihol? Or was it just that her mind had been irretrievably re-wired, a slave to the pleasure sensations that it would interpret all incoming signals as…

Maybe this slutty cock-addiction was in her all along?

Whatever the case, she loved the mixture of pleasure-pain, the screaming intensity of stretching to take her stallion up her ass, as he pushed forward, slowly opening her pucker.

“Mnnnaaaghh…!”

Millimetre by millimetre, the folds of her squished out anal donut rolled outward wider and wider, burning, straining… but never actually being torn or injured somehow. Bon Bon didn’t know how to process the feeling -- the entry into an exit-hole of something so massively oversized made her feel more stuffed than a monarch at a cake-eating competition.

“Fuck it! Bite down, filly!” Trunch thundered, his two hooves clacking on the stone as he steadied himself to apply all of his massive strength at once.

Bite down? On what? Bon Bon’s mouth was jammed wide open with the ring bit -- there would be no biting down.

WHAM!

POP~!

Bon Bon gasped, lungs sucking at air as she was winded from the sheer kick of feeling that rocked her to her core… A huge, full-power hip-drive had done the trick…

Trunch’s gigantic cock-head had popped into her ass.

“Oh fuck yes!” Trunch crowed with triumph.

At first he wasn’t doing anything -- just leaving himself embedded inside her. Bon Bon’s whole anus was squeezing out of control, wrapping itself tightly against the stallion’s bell-end, molding it around his throbbing glans.

Unlike her marehood, Bon Bon had no control over the muscles and squeezes and clenches of her ass. Aside from her ponut, only the autonomic system controlled those peristaltic impulses… and that whole system was currently so haywire there was no way it could do anything but shudder in disjointed spasms against the gigantic intruder lodged in the forbidden cavity.

“So fuckin’ tight!” Trunch moaned, “So fuckin’ hot! Goddessdamn!”

Bon Bon squirmed against her restraints, as if she could somehow physically escape the flood of fullness pounding up from her asshole. It was in vain, of course, each little wriggle only serving to drive the edges of the thick leather straps more tightly into her aching muscles as she writhed like a worm on a fisherpony’s hook.

Fuck! It’s so… big! Lyra’s mind skittered inside the destroyed neurochemical landscape of her brain. But it feels… so good!

She felt her drooling, strained and stretched marehood, still tired and weak from the heavy drubbing it had just gotten from the pegasus rutting the hay out of Lyra above her, start to stir in response. Her tan laps plumped up again with a new rush of engorging blood, her gaping inner-lips drooled a new slick trickle of creamy-thick stallion batter, and her red lovenub stood stiffly upright.

And then Trunch started to thrust.

“MnnnnN!!!” She could only moan out mindlessly, as the earth-pony began to push deeper into her. His giant plow-head stretched open her alimentary tract, callously shoving her insides out of the way and parting for him… pushing up a big bulge in her lower belly between her teats and up to her stomach from the cock-bulge inside her.

Deeper and deeper, flooding her with more of the strange mix of stretching pain-pleasure… not as sharp and sparkling as the over-enhanced flood from her marehood… but deeper and more complex, more debauched and taboo.

I like it. I like it, a lot!

Maybe she wasn’t just a cock-addict… maybe she was an assmare, too. All along, buried under her cold, misandrist, filly-fooler exterior… she loved taking it up the ass from the biggest, burliest stallion-cock she’d ever heard of.

And if her ass could do this to her… if it wasn’t even about breeding any more… if it really was just about servicing her stud so completely, in every way he could ever want… she really was just a fuck-puppet… a meat-sock to give him pleasure.

And she was OK with that.

The sheer depths of that depravity, the completeness of her fall, the loss of her mental and spiritual agency… none of it even registered in Bon Bon’s psyche.

She was too deep into the pleasure.

“Annnghh….!”

The first anally-induced orgasm wracked through her body, compelling her to try to lift herself off the table to get more of Trunch’s fat, massive gift into her, only to run into the barrier of the restraints. Her muscles surged and bunched underneath the restraints… up and down in heavy clenching bulges, screaming with lactic acid as she used all of her power in wanton futility against her leather shackles, lost in the maelstrom of her orgasm.

“Awww, shit! I’m cumming!” Crunch’s voice above her just sounded like garbled nonsense in her ears, her mind once again overloaded and incapable of even basic auditory processing. The only thing she did notice was the increase of fluid pouring down on her from above, as the stallion’s pace quickened and the slinging strands of pussy-juice became thick with freshly deposited stallion-seed, squirting out from around the confines of his cock and splattering onto her open mouth.

PIC GOES HERE derpi booru.org/ 146 5894

“Goddessdamn, filly!” Trunch snarled at her, his girthy penis starting to pump back and forth in her anus now. His gigantic medial ring was beyond any magic or force -- it would never fit into Bon Bon’s tight little anal donut… and so he used that as the depth-marker to which he would plunge before reversing course, drawing out his huge, heavy head with such sucking back force it made Bon Bon think he was going to plunger the heart out of her chest.

And just as it seemed too withdrawn, just as his started to strain and stretch her sphincter with his huge head… from the inside… he would reverse with brutal violence, slamming back into her up to his ring, starting the cycle again.

“MNnnaaaghhH! MNaannGH! MN!” Bon Bon’s unending orgasmic wail from behind the gag was punctuated with shuddering losses of breath as her fuck-stud’s thrusts would reach their ultimate depth, suspending her in her orgasmic bliss. All this even as the back of her throat was filled with the sex-batter being brewed in her best friend’s womb before flowing back along her vaginal canal and Crunch’s shaft, then spilling down in steaming patters into her open, ring-gagged mouth.

And then Bon Bon felt it.

A thudding growth in her body, like someone was blowing up a beach ball inside her asshole, a blooming of such incredible new size and pressure that her eyes rolled back underneath her blindfold and she nearly passed out.

Trunch was flaring.

Somehow he made even the gargantuan pegasus-flare she’d barely managed only minutes before seem small by comparison. His girthy cock-log could support much more bloodflow… and that meant his head flowered to the size of a dinner plate…

...in her butt.

Half a heartbeat after the stretching expansion inside her reached it’s zenith, she felt the stinging stretch of a pulsing throb race up Crunch’s shaft, stiffly spreading her anus even further as his massive ejaculatory explosion neared his fully-flared tip.

She felt the first touches of the warm wetness, the prelude to having her ass completely flooded.

When it froze.

Everything.

Time.

Author's Note

This is just a tremendous amount of sex. Dear God, this is a whole lot of plap! I don’t have anything else to add to that just… holy shit, fam! The clop just cascades down my monitor like zalgo text.

AJ Aficionado, Editor