Familial Fraternisation

“Babe!” Babs yelled, turning off the shower. Opening the curtain, grabbing a fresh towel from the rack, silent seconds passed. “Babe!”

The lack of response was yet another dose of irritation on what was quickly shaping up to be another miserable morning. First her studly lover had turned down her advances in bed, denying her that heavenly third leg of his - secondly, and more frustratingly, she’d discovered they were out of pickled okra, one of her recently acquired favorite snacks. Stepping out of the shower, quietly cursing under her breath, she peeked over at her reflection in the mirror above the sink.

What used to be a relatively soft, flat abdomen was now exceptionally rounded and taut, filled with the gargantuan foal growing within her. Even the doctors had been somewhat stunned with the size of her lovechild, joking that the unborn colt must have his father’s genes, yet that was far from the only development. Her breasts had nearly tripled in size, filling out substantially and resting atop her belly. She’d expected some of the changes, knowing she’d put on weight and eventually start lactating, although the physical transformation was just one facet of her new life.

The last few months had been one hell of a wild ride, bringing with them an tumultuous mix of ups, downs, and abject surprises. She’d been shocked to hear that the Apples, each and every one, supported her budding relationship and impending siring of Mac’s foal, but the living arrangements they gifted her with had really thrown her for a loop. Not long after her heartfelt and admittedly steamy admission to her colossal crimson cousin, the family had renovated the loft of the barn, the very loft she’d been knocked up in, into a spacious two-bedroom apartment.

Shacking up with Mac, and having a place to call her own, was absolutely fantastic, easily one of the highlights from the past year, but her life was still far from perfect. As her pregnancy progressed, filling her with an unholy mix of hormones and seeing her balloon in size, what used to be simple things became increasingly aggravating. Barely any of her clothes fit, her feet were often sore, she’d developed odd and seemingly random cravings for junk food, and horny didn’t even begin to describe how perpetually worked up she was.

While she’d steadily grown larger and larger, seemingly becoming more gravid by the day, Mac’s approach to carnal affairs had transitioned from hot, wild fucking to more relaxed, affectionate lovemaking. She knew she hardly had any reason to complain, especially since he never failed to bring her to climax, but she yearned to be pinned against a wall, bed, table, or anything durable enough to support her while she was screwed into a coma. Just the thought of the big bastard ruining her, overpowering her and plowing her into oblivion, was enough to…

“God damn it,” she grumbled, feeling the all-too-familiar sensation of something warm creeping down her breasts and over her stomach. “Babe! For fuck’s sake, are you even here?”

Stomping out of the bathroom, holding a towel to her leaking, udder-like bosoms, she stormed down the short hallway and into their chamber. If Mac was home, he would have come running by then, having heard her bellow, but that wasn’t the case. Glancing around the bedroom, without hearing any signs of life within their loft, she scrunched her snout. If she had to make a guess, he’d gone out to run errands or, more than likely, work in the orchard.

She’d initially done her best to chip in with affairs, helping around the farm and doing what she could to pull her weight, but that had eventually come to a halt. Despite her insistence that she could work while pregnant, Mac, Granny Smith, Applejack, and Apple Bloom collectively put their feet down that she needed to take it easy - needless to say, she was less than pleased with the coddling. While she may have been from the city, growing up in Manehattan with her folks, she wasn’t some pampered mare - not by a long shot.

All in all, her life had become a big mixed bag. She honestly didn’t mind the pregnant look, finding it rather fetching, but the uncontrollable urges for sexual attention, the bizarre palate she’d acquired, and persistently trickling tits were a bit of a headache - still, she tried to make the best of it. Since she wasn’t allowed to labor on the farm, she’d begun inspecting the viability of different apple products, ways to streamline harvesting, and even a potential place to build a still - after all, she had to do something with her wealth of free time.

Glancing to her wardrobe, dismissing the idea of finding something that would comfortably fit her, she sauntered over to Mac’s dresser. One of the benefits of living with a veritable giant was that she could easily slip into one of his oversized t-shirts, regardless of her massive tits and huge belly. Pulling open the top drawer, knowing full well that he kept his casual attire in the back, she thrust her hand inside, rummaged around for a second, and paused; she’d just touched something that was not a piece of clothing.

Closing her fingers around what felt like a crumpled up bag, she pulled the mysterious item into view and knit her brow. “The hell…”

As she’d suspected, it was a bag, but not just any bag. Constructed of thick paper, emblazoned with an unfamiliar logo, the little parcel seemed totally out of place. It was clear that she wasn’t supposed to know about it, since it had been stashed away in the little hiding spot, but she couldn’t help from seeing what was inside. Swiftly glancing to the door, while listening for any signs of movement, she stepped to the bed and turned the package upside down.

What landed upon the mattress left her completely baffled, quite literally causing her to scratch her head. A number of items had tumbled out of the bag, yet they all had a peculiar theme - cow print. A nigh microscopic bikini top, thong, a choker with a little brass bell, leggings, and even a hairband with plush horns sewn on it rested atop the bed-sheets, befuddling her completely; then, like a bolt from the blue, it all made sense.

Snatching up the thong, she turned the garment over and looked at the tag. As she’d suspected, the article was in her size. The bikini top appeared to have excessively long strings, making it able to accommodate a woman of virtually any size, although the fabric which was supposed to cover the breasts was almost laughably small. Shaking her head, both amused and surprised with the unexpected find, she was left to wonder what her beloved had planned to do with the novelty getup.

It was clear that he’d gotten it for her, but be damned if she could explain how long he’d had it or when he intended to show it to her. While she certainly wasn’t opposed to wearing the silly thing, especially if it meant him regaining some of the amorous aggression he’d had a few months prior, it definitely wasn’t something she’d go out and get for herself. The only reasonable explanation was that he’d gotten it as a joke or possibly because it was some sort of kink.

Clutching the towel to her chest, completely forgetting about stealing one of the behemoth stallion’s t-shirts, a mischievous grin split her muzzle. She’d been getting to know Mac very well, and he’d never once struck her as the practical joker type - as such, she presumed he’d impulsively bought the outfit because of some urge. Turning, leaving the ensemble on the mattress, she trotted out of the room, down the hallway, through the living room, and towards the stairwell which led to the barn below.

“Babe, you down there?” she shouted, opening the door.

Mac’s ear flicked in the direction of the noise, as he wrestled a damaged plow into their spare wagon. “Eeeyup!”

“Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right down,” she hollered back, seconds before he heard the door close.

Nodding to himself, getting the broken equipment in place, he stooped over and gathered up a sailor’s coil of rope at his feet. It wasn’t like he’d wanted to head downstairs to work, but he didn’t have much of a choice. Bloom was still in school, Granny was too old to do any sort of heavy lifting, and it wouldn’t be fair to expect Applejack to haul all the hard work. Stepping up and onto the carriage, fastening the rope over the plow, he sighed.

Learning he’d be a father filled him with a heady cocktail of pride, yet that pride drove him to push himself harder than ever. It had been one thing to help support his siblings and his grandmother, but now he had a lover who was carrying his foal. The moment Babs had agreed to stay with him, to raise their child as a couple, he’d sworn an oath to himself to be the best darn dad this side of Appleloosa, and he felt certain that his mate would be one heck of a mom.

Even though Babs wasn’t what he’d call a traditional mare, being somewhat impulsive and very outspoken, he was absolutely smitten with her. What had begun as a relatively simple physical attraction had steadily grown to become all encompassing. She was pithy, assertive, would tackle problems head on, and he honestly believed whoever built her had forgotten to put in the quit - simply put, he was head over heels for the fiery earth pony, and it didn’t matter if she was kin or not.

Securing the heavy cord, and gathering the rest under the plow, he hopped off the wagon, lifted his head, and froze. It wasn’t the fact that Babs had seen herself downstairs that surprised him - after all, she did it quite regularly - but what she was wearing left him gobsmacked. Adorned in the excruciatingly revealing bikini he’d spontaneously bought from the Carousel Boutique, with her mountainous bosoms swaying with each step, she practically bled sensual confidence.

“Moooo,” Babs erotically murmured, swinging her hips from side to side. “I’ve been looking all morning for my big, bad bull.”

It took everything she had not to crack a smile and giggle at the silly act - then again, the growing tent in her stud’s pants made for some damn good inspiration to keep up her perverted performance. Sashaying straight up to the petrified stallion, plastering her heaving chest against his rock-hard midsection, she thrust her hand to his groin and gave his package a firm, domineering squeeze.

“Mama needs a milking,” she continued, reaching up and stroking his slack jaw.

The statement, as comical as it was, did bear a grain of truth. On the mornings when she didn’t drain her massive mammaries, her chest would become almost painfully sensitive. Fortunately for her, and much to her great amusement, her lover was always eager to help with her dairy dilemma - sure, more often than not, it led to a mutual masturbatory session or, when she was lucky, a damn good lay, but he clearly relished having her as his personal cow.

Mac swallowed hard, gazing longingly down at the tits squished against him. Though he didn’t fully grasp why he had such a weakness for big chests, and even less of an understanding of his unhealthy interest in productive breasts, he found himself enthralled by the sight of her. He’d assumed he’d be attracted to her throughout her pregnancy, but underestimated just how bewitching she’d become.

The shock of finding his beloved dressed in such an absurd, yet utterly ravishing way caught him completely off guard. Woefully unprepared for the encounter, his eyes darted to the side and straight towards a handful of pens at the back of the barn. Though they didn’t currently have any cattle, they had housed a number of dairy cows in the past - dairy cows which they’d bought some specialized equipment for.

“You’re not gonna neglect little ‘ol me, are ya?” Babs pouted.

Taking a small step back, putting a hand to either side of his face, she steadily but firmly guided his snout to and into her cleavage. Before her rack had ballooned outwards, her chest had been almost large enough to cover the lower end of his muzzle - now, seeing as how her ample bosoms had grown considerably, her breasts could easily entomb almost his entire head.

Considering his dumbfounded look, the adorable blush in his cheeks, and the way his jeans were straining to contain his behemoth stallionhood, she’d say everything was going according to plan - that said, the only wrinkle in her salacious little scheme was that something had him distracted. Craning her head to the side, seeing him peek towards the far end of the barn, her eye twitched. He was supposed to fixate on her, maybe throw her over a hay bale and deep-dick her until she couldn’t walk, although that hadn’t happened - at least, not yet.

“Baaaabe,” she whined, slipping his snout into her bust, “Mama needs some lovin’...”

The mention of loving, paired with seeing the decidedly wet patches of fabric over her nipples, snapped Mac from his stupor. Straightening up, wrenching her hands from his cheeks, he shot her a pleading glance, held up a finger, and booked it to the back of the barn. The last thing he wanted to do was leave her hanging, especially since she’d stumbled upon the gag gift he’d got for her, but there was something he needed to get. If she was gonna pull off the needy cow routine, by Celestia, he was gonna make sure she did it right.

Dashing into the second to last stall, scanning the interior, he spotted exactly what he was looking for. Applejack had been insistent that they sell the contraption, claiming that it would only sit around gathering dust, but he hadn’t been able to part with it, somehow knowing he’d need it eventually. Scooping up the small crate, nearly fumbling over himself, he rushed back towards his awaiting and hopefully not too displeased mate.

“The fuck was…” Babs trailed off, noticing the wooden box in his arms. “What’s that?”

Her arousal grew tinged with confusion, as well as a tinge of curiosity, as he sat the crate down, walked over, grabbed her shoulders, and went to turn her around. Momentarily considering resisting him and throwing him to the floor, if only so she could forcefully have her way with him, she reluctantly obliged. If he wasn’t preparing to bend her over, so help her, she was going to make sure he had a very sore pelvis the following morning.

Turning her head from side to side, trying and failing to figure out what in the world she was supposed to be looking at, she felt a pair of big, meaty hands crept under her arms and to her chest. She had no doubt that he was up to something, yet she just couldn’t figure it out. The only things in front of her were a sawhorse and straw on the ground.

“So what am I supposed to - H...hey!” she bleated, as the string fastening her top was plucked free.

Fumbling for her mellons, which immediately cascaded from beneath the comically tiny article about her chest, she found herself being shoved forward. Her breasts hung from her chest, setting her off balance and nearly sending her crashing to the floor. Mercifully, out of luck or sheer coincidence, she caught herself on the sawhorse.

What had started as a fun bout of temptation went off the rails, as her attitude soured. Looking over at him, seeing him kneel at her side, she was filled with the sudden compulsion to leave - that was, until he reached into the wooden crate. Producing a pair of what she could only describe as a pair of elongated suction cups, attached to a small contraption by lengths of hose, he moved his hands towards her hanging, dribbling teats. The realization of what he was doing struck her like a gong, and she was unable to fight back a small smirk.

“They’re so heavy,” she lamented. Twisting her torso from side to side, her udder-like breasts sway beneath her. “I’ve been such a good cow for you, Mister Bull, please make me feel good…”

Her honeyed words and monstrous tits called to Mac’s cock, nearly causing it to rip through his pants. If he’d known she’d pull such a lecherous stunt that afternoon, he would have been able to plan for it - as things were, he was working as quickly as he could. Running the suction cups around her nipples, moistening them with her milk, he affixed the two ends to her teats. Once the device had latched onto her bosoms, he flicked a switch on the device and immediately reached for his waist.

As he got to his feet, seeing the feeding tubes run white with her dairy, his patience reached a breaking point. Snapping the clasp on his belt, quite literally ripping away the entire crotch area of his jeans, he tore the clothing from his lower half. As the rent fabric fell away, his monumental stallionhood sprang into the open air.

The sensation of the softly-humming machine coaxing the milk out of her breasts felt amazing, but the sight of her crimson stud ripping his pants off made her heart skip a beat. No matter how many times she gazed upon him, seeing every contour on his divinely sculpted frame, she was always impressed and, more often than not, instantly aroused. Peering at his throbbing cock, watching him step around behind her, she felt a bead of nectar escape her aching marehood.

Though she twisted her head, she couldn’t fully see what he was doing. Being milked like an actual cow was far, far more captivating than it had any right to be, and she could honestly see herself volunteering for more of it in the future, yet her position left her in a bit of a pickle. The hoses connecting her to the contraption weren’t long, too short to allow her to stand, meaning she would have to remain bending over - meaning she was left open for anything he wished to do with her.

Something hot blew upon her loins, a split second before what could only be a tongue drew up her sex. Before she could even think, her body reacted on instinct; arching her back and lifting her waist ever so slightly, she rocked back into his face. While she hadn’t anticipated having him eat her out, she was not about to bitch about it.

Mac’s eyes drifted closed, as he pressed his lips to her slavering marehood. It may have been his imagination, but he could swear that her flavor had become sweeter as her pregnancy progressed. Plunging his fat tongue into her, savoring her whorish moans, his pulse began to race. Her outfit, how massively gravid she was, running the risk of someone walking in on them, and the fact that she was his beloved cousin set his blood racing, making it hard to think of anything but her.

His thick fingers drifted up her legs and to her deliciously plump ass. While he’d never say a word of it to her, she’d packed on more padding than she cared to admit - padding he absolutely adored. Groping and kneading her ass, spreading her cheeks, he lowered his head and suckled on her clit.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” Babs muttered, her eyelids fluttering, “right - Eeep!”

Before she could finish speaking, he withdrew a hand and harshly slapped her tush. The tinge of pain blended with her bliss, elevating the depravity of it all. Hanging her head, watching the machine steadily fill its storage container with her milk, she shook her head and set the bell on her collar jingling.

“Mooooooooo,” she groaned, flicking her tail over his face.

Hearing the bestial noise, Mac withdrew. The flavor of her marehood danced over his palate, her strong, feminine aroma filled his sinuses, and her provocative attire had pushed him to the breaking point, but the lustful moo sundered his composure. Rising to his full height, directly behind her, he stepped forward and ground his length between the soft cheeks of her ass.

Babs gnawed her lip, as the unimaginable heat and weight of his dick bore down against her. She wouldn’t say she’d gotten used to his immense endowment, still holding a healthy respect for how gigantic it was, but she’d grown to appreciate just how thoroughly it could obliterate her. Even if she were to leave him, she was entirely certain that, save for a larger dragon, nobody could satisfy her the way he did.

Slowly, almost tauntingly, the battering ram-like head of his stallionhood crept down her cleft, over her pucker, and to her winking, drooling entrance. Wiggling her hips, hoping to provoke him, she glanced over her shoulder and realized why he’d stopped. As he pulled his shirt up and over his head, unveiling his heavenly chest and shoulders, she nearly swooned.

Seeing the smitten look in her eye, Mac grinned. Over their months together he’d learned quite a bit about her, like her favorite foods and the types of hobbies she had, but the most interesting thing he’d gleaned was how to play with her. Affectionately playing with her, teasing her, giving her the attention that she craved, but was too proud to ask for, was one of his guilty pleasures. As he grabbed the base of his dick, pulling it to the side, he slapped it against her rump.

If Babs had been blindfolded, she could have easily mistaken his dick for a club. The exact dimensions of his tool were nearly unbelievable, and it somehow felt even bigger than it looked, yet that wasn’t a real problem - the real problem was that the big bastard had been figuring her out, finding ways to get her wound up, and it both frustrated and amused her. Locking eyes with him, unfastening one of the suction cups from her breasts, she coated a finger in her milk, brought it to her pouting lips, and licked the digit clean.

“Mama needs her breeding bull…” she purred.

Her sultry tone was the nail in Mac’s coffin, crushing what little self restraint he had left. Repositioning himself, he drove himself into her. Though there was perilously little resistance, her velvety depths were just as snug and inviting as they’d always been - if not more so. Taking his time, forcing himself not to start jackhammering, he gradually eased his way into her.

He knew good and well that she wanted it rough - heck, there’d been times when he wanted to pin her down and fuck her through the floor, but there more than just the two of them at stake. The last thing in the world he wanted was to hurt her or their unborn foal, so he’d had to take it easy on her, right? Even if the doctor, Granny Smith, and Twilight assured him that he didn’t have to handle her with kid gloves, he didn’t want to risk her or their colt - having said that, the temptation to pull out the stops was always there.

Babs lowered her head, feeling him bump against her heavily occupied womb. The way he filled her was surreal, stretching her like nobody ever had or ever would, but that was only part of what made him amazing. Clenching around him, she widened her stance and started screwing herself on him - after she’d reattached the abandoned suction cup to her teat, of course.

He was the key to her lock, fitting her like he’d been made for her. Not too long, not too wide - just the proper proportions to test her limits and hit all her buttons. Even his insanely girthy medial ring was almost scarily perfect, seated at just the right place on his stallionhood to obliterate her g-spot in the throes of passion. The veins, silken skin, and shape of his heavenly rod were amazing, but the stallion it was attached to was perfection personified.

As Mac ran a hand over her back, lovingly caressing her, he gradually began thrusting harder and faster. His inhibitions waged war with his primal urges and his pent-up frustrations, with the opposing forces vying for dominance over his body. To make matters worse, his mate was nowhere near as reluctant to throw her weight around - both in a literal and figurative sense.

After a particularly forceful backward thrust from the mare, one which nearly knocked him off balance, he braced his legs and defiantly snorted. Considering how badly she’d been badgering him, constantly asking for him to cut loose, he had no doubt that she’d love for him to unleash his full potential. Toying with the notion of obliging her insatiable, licentious appetite, watching her ass jiggle with every plunge, his hesitation withered.

“Fuck me, you stud,” Babs demanded, slamming her rear against his waist. “Brand my womb with that huge bitch-breaker of yours!”

Though she was positive that he was holding back, there wasn’t a damn thing to keep her from leveling every ounce of her strength against him. If she wasn’t hooked up to a milking machine, and if she weren’t enjoying having her nipples aggressively pumped by the contraption, she would have really shown him what she could do - unfortunately, that wasn’t a viable option. Her best chance of success was to use a combination of sultry dialogue and very enthusiastic screwing, so that’s exactly what she did.

Constricting around his shaft, virtually putting a choke-hold on its vascular length, she gave him everything she had while simultaneously doing her best to concentrate. Even when she was left to do most of the work, bedding him was a herculean task - not because it was difficult, but because it felt too damn good not to enjoy. The added pressure of the foal growing in her didn’t impede her bliss - if anything, bearing the fruit of his loins made things more intense.

The mention of branding took Mac by surprise, but not in a bad way. He’d already marked her, claimed her, and sown his seed within her, so the prospect of affirming his ownership of her fanned the flames of his growing lust. Sinking his fingers into her waist, tightening his grip, he withdrew nearly the entirety of his shaft, steadied himself, then rammed his hips forward.

As he drove her forward, completely bottoming out inside of her, a throaty, whorish moan crept past her lips. Hearing how much she enjoyed it, feeling her quiver around his length, he gave her a second fearsome thrust, then a second and a third, until he was plowing her like a runaway freight train. It wasn’t like he wanted to succumb to his bestial needs - he just couldn’t help it.

Grunting with every plunge, practically having the wind forced from her lungs, Babs’ eyes rolled to the back of her head. Finally, after nearly two months of trying and failing to coerce his domineering side to the fore, she got exactly what she wanted. Marish juices crept down her thighs and dripped to the floor, as her titanic mate brutally railed her from behind.

In a jarring shift of pace, the vehemence of his motions waxed, as her strength waned. Though she would have liked to reciprocate, the task was next to impossible. The awe inspiring might of being dominated, overwhelming her with carnal pleasure, could not be denied. Able to do little more than weather the amorous maelstrom, quite literally wracked with bliss, she skyrocketed towards release.

Fiercely pulling her to himself, while savagely bucking into her, Mac descended into a frenzy. Some shred of him realized that there was no need for his feverish actions, having already sired his foal with her and taken her as a lover, but his rationale slipped. Practically a wild animal, tapping into the savage stallion lurking within his id, he had every intention to bathe her interior with his essence.

The cavernous room grew thick with the scent of sweat and sex, the sounds of their passion echoed throughout the barn, and the sawhorse beneath Babs rocked violently beneath her, as the pair pushed one another to the finish line. While it was true that she had been forward with wanting everything he had to offer, Mac’s concern for her and their foal hadn’t allowed him to indulge her - that was, until that moment.

Given their size, zeal, and the fact that they were both considerably large and robust earth ponies, the sight was almost akin to a gladiatorial battle - albeit an exceptionally debaucherous one. His carmine length rhythmically disappeared into her battered marehood, before withdrawing and steaming the cool air. Though she’d ceased moving in any overt way, she angrily clamped around his magnificent stallionhood, pining for his essence.

Babs’ fogged mind couldn’t comprehend how long they’d been going at it, and the creaking wood of the a-frame she clung to barely registered, yet the sensation of his flaring length snapped her back to the present. Dredging a strength she didn’t know she had, willing her body to obey her, she bucked back to meet his thrusts. His impending load had been hard fought, and there was no way in Tartarus she’d let him waste a drop of it.

Clenching his jaw, attempting to stave off the inevitable, Mac knew he was fighting a losing battle. His plunges became short, almost machine gun-like, as he beat against her cervix. Though there was no stopping the tide of his climax, he could sure as heck make sure that he flooded her as deeply and as thoroughly as possible.

Almost as if by some preternatural timing, sensing his shaft throb maddeningly, Babs came the second his seed washed against her womb. Intense couldn’t even begin to describe the cathartic climax, spurring an impulsive and climactic ‘Moo’ from her, as it was the culmination of all her efforts and adoration for him. To her, he was more than the father of her unborn child, more than just a lover - he was a gift from above.

Nectar and jizz lewdly gushed from her quivering marehood, messily splattering the straw-strewn floor beneath them, yet their euphoric cries of rapture drowned out any other noise. Supported by the buckling frame and his strong hands, with her legs giving out, Babs was only just able to keep herself from collapsing. Feeling her knees buckle, Mac draped himself over her and pulled her upright.

As she shakily turned her head, looking up and back at him, he locked his lips with hers. The kiss, though a bit awkward, was the perfect finishing touch for the impulsive and heated moment of passion. Sloppily making out, smearing one another’s face with saliva, they only eventually pulled away.

“I...Fuck,” Babs blurted, peeping down and realizing the milking machine had become detached. Milk streamed down her belly, groin, and legs, adding to the lustful pool of jizz and fem-cum covering her and the ground beneath them. “Gonna need to clean this up before AJ or Bloom notice…”

Seeing the mess, Mac nodded. “Eeeyup…”

“Hey, don’t look so down,” she whispered, playfully squeezing her cunt around his softening length. “Maybe tomorrow we can try something different. I think that missionary would be a great way for us to milk one another.”

Images of her laid atop a hay bale, or possibly on the deck of their wagon, sailed through Mac’s mind, sending blood coursing to his stallionhood. Being rough with her hadn’t hurt anything, she seemed perfectly fine, and she was already asking for seconds. Grinning from ear to ear, wrapping his arms around her swollen chest, he affectionately nuzzled her neck.

“Eeeyup!”