Sleek Stockings was looking right at the cause of his distress and he didn't know what to feel. He had been staring at it for the last hour or so, desperately hoping that it'd become something worth admiring and treasuring in front of his eyes. However, the stocking that lay on his workbench hadn't moved nor had it done anything to warrant over 60 minutes of constant supervision. He annoyed himself every time he'd start to move his hooves, thinking that he'd be able to muster up enough creative energy to get it done, but he couldn't.

He knew his limits, and he certainly wasn't one of the "just a few more hours 'till it's done" kind of ponies. Stockings wholeheartedly believed that such a line of thinking was detrimental to providing a product of the highest quality. So what was he to do?

At long last, the stallion tore his eyes away from the troublesome item and daintily hopped off his stool, landing on the wooden flooring with a volley of gentle 'thuds'. He quickly turned his back to the bench and marched out of his workshop to occupy his mind with something else. 'The less I think about...the thing I don't want to think about: the better!'

He emerged out of his doorway into the foyer, entering a world of warm, golden light and Hearth's Warming decorations. All his worries and thoughts about his craft melted away the very moment he entered. The lights were almost never on in that particular area of the house, but the shining décor and the light that bled out from the other rooms gave it all the life it needed for the night.

Living in Canterlot provided endless opportunities to make capital, and it certainly did help if you were born into a family who had already been doing so for many generations. Stockings was by no means a pony that was lacking in terms of material wealth. He counted himself lucky he didn't want for much of anything, and was proud of the fact that he hadn't truly let his status and wealth get to his head. Though, when in public or around his acquaintances, he certainly had to act like it did. And in the pursuit of not worrying about his craft, he'd bumped straight into worrying about himself.

The stallion shook his head to rid himself of such thoughts and found himself standing in front of the mirror he kept by the front door. Typically, he'd only use it to make sure he looked alright before he left the house, but now he was checking to see just who he was that night. He saw what everypony saw; a slightly mare-ish, beige-colored stallion with blue eyes, and a peanut butter mane and tail. His stocking and candy cutie mark rested where it had always been. In spite of his stress and how mentally exhausted he was, what looked back at him was Sleek Stockings, the character. A puffed up chest, straight neck, neutral frown - all concealing how he really felt inside.

He needed some way to get away from it all, just for the night. But what was he to do? Was there some way to put his mind at ease without outright absconding from his duties? Was there somepony who could help?

Stockings gasped and clicked the tip of his front hoof against the wooden floor. 'I know who!'

He turned his eyes over to the clock that hung beside the mirror. It was only 8 in the evening, but winter-time meant that nightfall had veiled the entire country in pitch blackness. Still, it wasn't too late to head out and do what he wanted to do. The streetlights were still lit up, and the ponies who made up the nightlife of the city were far from done with whatever it was they were indulging in. And he could do with a good indulgence.

And this is where the story truly begins.

Stockings had left his home some time after checking himself in the mirror, and had returned to his townhouse with another earth-pony in tow. All it took was for the craftspony to say a quick "my house, now" upon arrival and that was that. The lack of complications and their apparent willingness to go along with the unknown plan had them both returning to his townhouse before the clock could strike 9.

Sleek Stockings released a heavy sigh. No formalities, no nonsense. He went straight to the point.

"I need a good rutting."

The earth-pony stallion said nothing, unwrapping his scarf from around his neck and hanging them up next to his hat and earmuffs. Before Stockings stood his long-time friend and problem-solver: a chocolate-brown stallion with a rugged, green mane. Grassy Knoll was as tall as he was dependable and always made sure to stand proudly. Stockings had known the stallion for as long as he could remember, and on a purely platonic level, the smaller stallion loved and felt safe around him.

He eyed the larger stallion as he hung up the last item of warm clothing on the rack by the door, who seemed to both blend in with the glossy mahogany door beside him, and stand out due to the sheen of his well-groomed coat. The stallion before him could easily crush him under one hoof were he so inclined, but moved with effortless grace as he placed the wool scarf on the hook. His cutie mark seemed to reflect this, as it displayed several blades of grass cut short by a pair of slim scissors; a testament to his delicacy and expertise in his craft. There was little wonder as to why he was many ponies' choice in for-hire gardeners.

Stockings blushed as he caught himself staring at his guest for a few seconds too long, and managed to look away before Grassy Knoll turned his body to face the host.

"You said you needed a what-now?" The baritone voice bounced around the walls and faintly echoed around the foyer. The smaller pony made a mental note to add some furniture or something or other to deal with that issue.

The stocking-maker sucked in a breath, "I-I need a good rutting...?" he squeaked. All the confidence he could muster had been spent on inviting Grassy to his home and then the request he made 20 seconds ago. With just one question, the brown earth-pony had destroyed what was left of his bravado. All he was worried about now was whether or not he blew it, or worse, freaked out his friend. Stockings wanted nothing more than to hide behind his mane- no, bury his head in the ground like an ostrich. Yes, he was aware that had been dismissed as a myth.

Apparently sensing the apprehension in the air, Grassy walked past the shivering stallion and made his way towards the living room. He had been over to Stockings' house several times before, and knew the ground-floor of the property like the back of his hoof. The gardener halted after a few paces, and turned to look back at his host with a sigh. "Sleek, come on. Let's talk on the couch." He then pushed past the windowed door to the living room.

Hanging his head, Stockings followed along. He hoped that there was some way to salvage what he thought was a ruined friendship.

Grassy lifted an eyebrow as an amused smirk formed on his lips. "And that's why she doesn't order anything from you anymore?"

The homeowner's cheeks glowed a soft pink as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. "I mean, it's quite certainly a novel way to...express one's affection. I still have the darn thing, even after a year."

The pair were both sitting on a luxurious sofa situated in front of the lounge's great fireplace as the wood crackled and popped, providing a soothing background noise for their conversation. Grassy, being the large specimen that he was, easily took over two-thirds of the sofa when he lay on his abdomen, his legs tucked up against himself. The host sat on what little space remained on the cushions, neck up and with a straight back, having regained his composure and exuded confidence.

Stockings felt as though all his previous fears had been washed away. He and Grassy had spent several dozen minutes shooting questions and topics back and forth after the latter had taken it upon himself to make the former feel better. It was needless to say that the stocking-maker was no longer anxious or worried, and had instead been having a wonderful time catching up with his working-class friend.

However, despite their heart to heart and sharing of nice stories, both stallions knew that the conversation had to turn towards the elephant in the room, the very same that had made itself known in the foyer. When they had run out of topics to talk about, and when Grassy felt as though Stockings was feeling better, he thought he'd better ask him about what he said.

"'Novel' is one word for it." The smaller stallion only responded with a giggle. The gardener then turned his head away from his friend and looked into the fire, letting the warmth encompass both sides of his face. It was time to talk about it. "So, why me? Why - y'know - that?"

Sleek Stockings shut his eyes and retreated into his mind. He remained silent for a while. He knew what he wanted to do, but never spared a second to think of the why. He wasn't a poor pony, and if he really wanted to relieve some stress from work he could easily do so. He could have spent some of his commission income for a wonderful dinner out at one of Canterlot's many restaurants, go wild at one or more of its clubs, spent the night with a gorgeous escort, or perhaps just do one of those things if he was feeling too burnt out. But why ask his best friend to come over and pound him? It seems that he knew the answer, and it was buried deep down. As he thought, Grassy patiently waited for an answer, knowing that it'd be best if he got one unprompted. Believing he was ready, he sat up straight and proper, like a pony of his standing would have been expected to do.

And like air rushing to fill in a vacuum, his answer subconsciously came out of his mouth to fill in the silence. "Because I'd like to spend just one night away from all this," he started, waving his hoof around at the room and the wider house. "And before you ask, I don't mean the house. I have been living as Sleek Stockings for all my life, doing what I love and what my ancestors had loved for many years. It pays handsomely, I usually only get work in the autumn and winter-time, and-"

He cut himself off when he realized what he had just said. 'Am I seriously about to complain about my cushy, well-paying job to a working-class gardener?' Stockings cleared his throat, choosing his words more carefully, "-and I don't know why, but my work tonight has been more stressful than any other winter's night. I never get like this, because I don't usually take in this many orders, and I could have taken the night off, but I've never had to do that before, and-"

"Sleek." It was Grassy Knoll's turn to cut him off. The large stallion had noticed the beige pony's faux pas and the subsequent descent into panic, and reached out to place an enormous hoof on his shoulder. As soon as his foreleg touched the other pony, his eyes shot open but was otherwise silent. "Sleek, just chill for a sec. Why don't you just make it easier for yourself and talk about what you first said to me, and why. Why did you tell me...you needed 'a good rutting' as you put it."

"Because I want to feel like somepony else tonight." The instantaneous reply shocked both stallions. Despite this, Stockings continued, "And what could be more different from Sleek Stockings, successful luxury stocking maker and the youngest in the Stocking dynasty, than... a nameless little pony who just wants to be pounded in the behind."

The silence between them was filled with the crackling of the fire and the sound of the occasional gust of wind trying to push its way past the sealed windows. Stockings had said what he wanted to say- no, what he needed to say. It felt as though a giant weight had been lifted off of his chest, and he now felt as though whatever happened next, however Grassy Knoll would respond, wouldn't matter. He idly kneaded at the sofa cushions with his forehooves, awaiting whatever his friend had to say.

"Well, if you want to feel like somepony else, that's alright, I guess." The workhorse simply stated. Stockings felt relieved. "But..." And he instantly felt himself tense back up. With some reluctance, he looked Grassy in the eyes.

"'But'?" Stockings asked.

Grassy Knoll gave the other pony a smile as his eyelids lowered to half-mast. "I want that little pony to look and feel differently too. And maybe not be so nameless." Stocking's heart skipped a beat and he felt a burning warmth in his cheeks.

"R-really?"

"Mhm." Came his response. "You said you still had that outfit you made for that mare. From last year. Is that correct, Knee High?"

The little stallion had quite the erection.

'Just one hoof in front of the other, Stockings. Ain't no thing...'

The pony slowly made his way down his staircase, being careful not to slip in his new outfit. Falling down his own stairs would probably be the least embarrassing thing he'd have done within the last hour. The usually noisy descent down was muffled by the padded material that hugged all of his hooves. Grassy Knoll was still downstairs, a fact that would usually comfort him on other days when the stallion would come over, but tonight was going to be a wildly different experience. A small part of him hoped that wasn't the case, and that Grassy was pulling his leg. The rest of him wanted it to be different, something hot, and he mostly certainly wanted Grassy to pull on his mane, his tail, his coc-

Stockings snapped out of his daydreaming as his hooves reached the bottom of the stairs. He was now more than half-way done with his journey back to the lounge. The small, vocal part of himself kept telling him to turn back, and to later thank Grassy for coming and get him to go. But he couldn't do that. He'd come all the way to his house to help him, with no questions asked, and even after telling him the plan, he had chosen to stay and help. Any notions of shooing the stallion away annoyed him.

The stallion shook his head to rid himself of such thoughts and found himself, once again, standing in front of the mirror he kept by the front door. Just as before, he'd typically only use it to make sure he looked alright before he left the house, but now he was checking to see just who he was that night. Was he going to look different? Would he recognize himself? He locked eyes with the figure in the mirror.

He saw what only he and his guest would ever see; a pretty, beige-colored mare with a peanut butter mane and tail. His stocking and candy cutie mark rested where it had always been, partially hidden by his stockings. In spite of his stress and how mentally exhausted he was before, what looked back at him was no longer Sleek Stockings. He didn't see a puffed up chest, straight neck, or a neutral frown.

He saw a demure, blushing little pony, doing their best to hide behind their mane and look as small as possible. A pony dressed in red and white, festive clothing that was reserved for private, indoor use. Two pairs of shiny, red stockings hugged all of his legs, reaching all the way up to his torso and flanks. His cutie mark was partially hidden by the ring of white, fluffy wool that topped the cuffs of his stockings. Another ring of white wool ran around his neck as its own piece, and the last one was wrapped around the base of his tail, sewn into the ruby panties that clung onto his waist and rear. It served to keep his dock warm, and to make sure his tail was slightly hiked up for...ease of access.

Stockings had originally designed the ensemble for a mare he liked, but after she had expressed her displeasure at how lewd the piece was, there wasn't really anything he could do with it other than store it. In case another mare came along.

Never did he think that he'd be wearing it himself. And he never questioned why it fit him so well.

"I...my name is...Knee High." He practiced in the mirror, getting a feel for how the name sounded in his mouth. He felt nice, he felt refreshed, and felt his cheeks turn the same shade of red as his outfit. 'Knee High' stared back at him and he could feel his excitement beginning to grow. His rock-hardness was kept in line by the snug-fitting panties he wore, the smoothness of the fabric wrapped tightly around him, not allowing his candy cane to expand. It only served to drive him crazy. "And...I need a good rutting." With a smile, the stallion blew a little kiss at his reflection before heading back into the living room.

Grassy Knoll was not a hard stallion to miss, even if one tried. Upon entering the lounge and standing in front of the sofa, Stockings had discovered that the big pony was no longer on it. He certainly recalled noticing the stallion's warm clothing still on the rack by the door, so he didn't worry about his guest bailing on him as he got dressed. So, where was he?

As Stockings pondered, he returned to his seat and tucked his legs under himself in a cat-like way. The stallion certainly wasn't long gone, as there was still a little warmth from his side of the seat, and the pony-shaped indent left on the poor, poor sofa cushions. He reached out with a hoof to feel at the empty spot on the sofa, marveling at how his pricey, resilient sofa had almost given up the ghost under the weight of the large stallion. He came to realize just what kind of pony he had asked to get on top of him and pummel his behind.

The workhorse soon made his entrance. The heavy hoof steps of the stallion came closer to the sofa, the deliberate thuds on the living room floor chipping away at Stocking's resolve as they got louder. If he wasn't nervous before, he was more than nervous now. Stockings knew better than to be nervous around Grassy now that they've talked about his issue, but a small, vocal part of himself was still unsure about their mutually-agreed arrangement.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, a large green and brown mass made itself known, slowly walking in front of the sofa.

The giant earth-pony then stood between the couch and the fireplace, his frame easily eclipsing the light and plunging the smaller pony in the darkness of his shadow. Grassy Knoll didn't look all too different from when Sleek Stockings last saw him a few moments ago, so he wondered about just where the stallion had disappeared to.

"Well now, ain't that a treat?" Grassy's tone voice shook Stockings to his core. It sounded like the deep voice of a stallion who had his eyes on a pretty little gem of a mare, which he was rather odd since the only mare that was remotely close was one of the next-door neighbours. Did he really do that good of a job dressing up?

"W-w-whatever do you mean, Grassy?" Stockings stammered, suddenly feeling very small. The chocolate-colored stallion chuckled as he took a step closer and lowered his head down to Stocking's level.

"And where are your manners, Knee High? It's 'sir', now."

"Whatever do you mean, sir?" The dolled-up pony was surprised at how quickly he complied, and Grassy Knoll, as surprised as he was internally, didn't let it show and would continue to wear his sultry smirk.

"Why don't you get off that seat and I'll letcha know just what I mean, pretty lady." Like a little pup, the stocking-maker-turned-plaything wordlessly removed himself from the sofa and switched places with the big stallion, who gently brushed past his host and set himself down on the sofa. This time, he was sat on his rear, with his forelegs pressed against the cushions and propping himself up. Unbeknownst to Stockings, Grassy was hiding something behind his massive hooves.

And so, there Sleek Stockings was, meekly hiding his face behind his mane, dressed up in a less than appropriate outfit, and being ogled at like a delicious, ripe fruit by a stallion who was more than capable of doing anything he wanted to him. Despite his outward appearance, Stockings was beyond excited, and could feel his dick trying to push itself past the silky fabric of his panties.

"Go on, now. Model it a little for me, Knee High. I wanna get a good look at you. Oh, and your handiwork, of course."

"R-right..." 'Knee High' took a deep breath and briefly shut his eyes. 'Alright, you've seen the magazines before. You can do it.' he thought for a second or so, before opening his eyes and getting started.

He started off with the basics; a raised foreleg, half-turned head, half-lidded eyes, and quite a few others that he recalled seeing models do. Grassy didn't seem to mind how slowly he was taking things, and still kept an amused look on his face whilst maintaining silence. However, Stockings knew that there was only so much one could do when posing like he did, and he was feeling more confident and more bold. He knew it was time to step up his game and really act like somepony else that night. And what did attractive models love doing more than making kissy faces?

'Shaking that butt!' Biting his lip, 'Knee High' turned on the spot and lowered his upper body down onto the floor, keeping his rear up with straight legs. He held that pose for a moment or two, gently swaying his behind to mask his legs shifting to a more comfortable position. His heart was racing, and other than feeling the warmth of the wood against his chest; he felt good. Really good. He debated on it feeling perhaps a little too good, but his thoughts were cut off by a series of strange noises coming from Grassy Knoll. He half-expected to hear his guest make some lewd comment, maybe even whoop and cheer at his little display, but 'Knee High' didn't account for hearing the big stallion snickering. The shame-deficient pony whipped his head around to look at Grassy to find out what was funny, and the only answer he got was the stallion holding a hoof up to his lips to suppress his chortling.

"What's so funny, big guy?" Stockings asked, trying not to sound offended. Grassy calmed himself down and lowered his hoof, before the same hoof would point at Stocking's posterior.

"I -heh- can see why your little lady-friend thought the outfit was a little bit much. You didn't tell me it had that on it!"

''That'? What in Equestria does he mean by 'that'?' He lifted his upper body and kept his eyes on his rear, shifting around to try and see just what the stallion was laughing about. He could certainly see something just hanging near the base of his tail. Something green and leafy. Stockings furrowed his brow and aggressively shook his derrière to coax the mystery item into revealing itself.

And reveal itself it did. Like in an action movie, the item seemed to swing in slow motion, and swung hard enough for it to make itself known to his eyes, bouncing up over the horizon line that was his ass and making itself known.

How could he have forgotten? How could he have not noticed? He took the items of clothing out of the box and took his sweet time putting them on, and he had failed to notice that?

"A m-m-mistletoe!?"

Indeed, there was the aforementioned piece of mistletoe, dangling at the base of his tail holder by a piece of thin, red ribbon. The item did not hang very low, and he surmised that this was the reason why he didn't feel the thing move at all. Though, with that fact aside, his main source of embarrassment was now the fact that the mistletoe hung just above where his hole would be, if it were not hidden by the panties.

It was common knowledge as to just what happens between two ponies under a mistletoe, and he did recall giggling to himself as he tied the item onto the rest of the ensemble one year ago, envisioning himself muzzle deep in a mare's folds as he did. Given his current situation and current attire, he couldn't help but envision his good friend, Grassy Knoll, doing the same. But to him.

"Such a naughty little mare you are, Knee High." Grassy cooed, sensing the embarrassment in his friend-turned-plaything. "Why don't you come over here and lemme get that untied?" Stockings suddenly felt a pair of very large hooves grabbing hold of his flanks. His surprise and shock at the sudden and firm pressure didn't allow him to let out even a small yelp as he was lifted up off of the ground and found himself with his back on the sofa and his legs in the air.

The meeker of the pair, having put two and two together, looked down his belly at the large stallion, who was bringing his face close to his nervous ass. And just as quickly as he came to realize just what was going to happen, he felt it.

"Grassy! What A-AH-AARE YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-!?!?" Stockings reached out to the closest item at hoof, which was a throw pillow that was sat up against the back of the sofa, and held it against his face to muffle the humiliating moans that came out of his mouth. Grassy Knoll had pulled his victim's panties over to the side, beginning a swift and powerful assault on Stocking's tense little hole with his tongue.

'Knee High' was now becoming very acquainted to an experience that only Grassy's previous marefriends had known and loved, and the the workhorse put in as much gusto as he typically would when performing the riveting, ring-moistening ritual upon one's rear end that was anilingus. He was familiar with a variety of ponut holes, all of which belonged to mares, and it was apparent to Stockings that the gardener had no qualms with going down on a stallion. At least, a mare-ish looking one.

Sleek Stockings could feel everything Grassy was doing. He could feel the tongue circling his sensitive hula hoop, he felt the subtle but deliberate movements of his friend's wet muscle against his rim, and could do nothing to stop himself from vocalizing his pleasure. Every little twitch and spasm from his body was accompanied by an involuntary string of whines, whimpers, and moans, with each chipping away at his shame and bringing him closer to embracing the new identity that was Knee High. Even if it was just for the night.

"Grrsy, OOH mrrr cerlestia!" He grunted into his pillow as he bucked his hips. His feelings of concentrated carnal pleasure as Grassy lapped at his ass like it was covered in salt contributed to the leakage of pre-cum that now stained his silky panties. No amount of puckering would stop the onslaught of licks, and it was now clear to the both of them that 'Knee High' was going to be reduced to a wriggly, squealing mess of a pony if Grassy Knoll kept it up.

Some moments passed when the stallion decided that it was best to relent, and pulled his face away from Stocking's rear end. The two minutes of vigorous licking felt like hours to the recipient, but it seemed that it was more than enough of a kick to make the persona that was "Stockings" and allow the writhing, horny pony that was Knee High to briefly take hold. He had never felt so un-stallion-like before in his life, and by Celestia, this was exactly what he needed to clear his mind.

"Oh, gosh...Oh, goodness, Grassy!" Stockings giggled as his shivering subsided, and rolled over onto his belly, "Thank you so much! That was exactly what I needed to unwind! I-I feel like a new pony! And I can get started on working on my last order! Ahaha!" he managed to gasp out before resting his head against his freshly screamed-into pillow.

However, despite Stocking's apparent rejuvenation, Grassy Knoll wasn't quite done. After all, all the large workhorse had done was engage in a little foreplay with nary any sexual satisfaction of his own.

"Don't you think you're forgetting something, Knee High?" Grassy asked, as he placed one foreleg on either side of the smaller pony and brought his face closer to him. The dolled-up pony slowly shuffled around onto his back and looked up at his friend with a sheepish expression. He knew that they weren't done. And he knew that he owed it to Grassy to thank him for what he'd done for him.

And that was the moment he saw it. The thing that explained just where Grassy had disappeared off to when he came back into the living room. Stockings was snout to tip with....a familiar-looking stocking? He moved his head and eyes around to get a good look at what was holding the stocking. It couldn't have been in his house-guest's grasp, as both his forelegs were either side of him. And he couldn't have been holding it in his rear hooves. That'd be too awkward to even attempt. So just what was it?

'Oh...' Stockings thought as the realization dawned on him, causing his face to burn a vibrant red, much like that of his outfit. He didn't think pony dicks could ever be that large. The stockings were supposed to be a few sizes bigger than a normal hoof and foreleg in order to fit as many sweets and treats as it could. However, what he was looking at was a stocking that was stretched almost to its breaking point. Meaning that the monster inside was larger than a comically large hoof.

Grassy noticed the smaller pony's reaction and playfully swatted Stocking's belly with the log between his legs. "You said you 'needed a good rutting', right? So why don't you...see what daddy's hidden in your stocking, Knee High?" For the second time that evening, Grassy Knoll had given Stockings a verbally-induced erection.

"I'd love to, sir~" Knee High was holding the reins once again, gripping them tight, and would then hold onto the emerald-colored, velvet stocking that Grassy had presented to him. Sleek Stockings would have had more of a reaction to seeing his unfinished stocking being misused in such a way - in front of his own eyes, no less - but he truly was feeling like somepony else that night. With a giddy smile, he slowly began to pull the stocking off to reveal Grassy's surprise.

Unsurprisingly, it was a gargantuan, veiny, stallion cock that was hidden away. The rock-hard flesh log bounced as Knee High finally removed the constricting item, and a thin stream of pre-cum dribbled out of the end and made it down onto his belly. What did surprise the little pony was the overwhelming wave of hot musk that was unleashed after a second or two of extracting the cock from the sock. It was an overpowering scent that wormed it's way up his nose and activated some part of his brain that was responsible for making sure that Stockings was temporarily suppressed and Knee High was kept up and running.

"Please, sir..." he whined, tucking his forelegs to his chest. "please put it in..."

Grassy had some trouble recognizing the pony underneath him, as the 'Knee High' personality was the furthest thing away from the middle-class, no nonsense pony that was the famous Sleek Stockings. However, he'd be a liar if he said that he didn't recognize the fact that both ponies had asked him to insert a specific part of his being into their rear, and were both quite eager about it in their own ways. He felt that it was high time he quit the bullshit and get to that long awaited rutting that he had been whisked away from his little apartment to go perform. Alas, he relented, taking a few steps back to line the tip of his dick up with their moist, cock-hungry rear. And he pushed.

Had Grassy not lubricated the pony's rear end with a session of hearty licking, or if the dick hadn't been smothered in pre with the help of the moisture-resistant insides of the stocking, Knee High suspected that he'd be screaming bloody murder as soon as his tight little hole was breeched by the battering-ram-sized piece of stallion anatomy. It was his very first time having something inserted into his ass, and for a brief second did he wish that perhaps he'd invited somepony closer to his own size, but when the shock subsided and the initial resistance had been bypassed, Knee High was left speechless at how full he was. And how wonderful it felt.

He had little time to savour the feeling of just the tip of the cock in his behind, as the impatient stallion inside of him continued to push with the force and torque of a hydraulic press, drilling deep and immersing himself in Knee's very existence. The tightness of the small pony's virgin ass was enough to make the titan grunt aggressively and plant all his hooves into the sofa for maximum thrusting potential. Meanwhile, the recipient had learned to relax themselves as much as someone in their current predicament could, hoping to make the stallion's descent into his tailhole as smooth as equinely possible.

Grassy had to be close. As big as he was, Knee High was sure that Grassy was almost done stretching out his insides, right? But every time there was a small pause in between the pushing, the little stallion hoped that he'd at least have a little bit of time to breathe, but his large mate would resume his probing before he could take a breath. The gardener's cock seemed to never end, and a part of his mind hoped that maybe it wouldn't - continuing to fill him up for all eternity.

Suddenly, the pressure stopped as soon as Knee felt what he thought was the base of Grassy's cock press up against his outrageously stretched boy hole, and the stocking-maker heard their lover release a groan dripping with pleasure. Was he finally all the way in? Did he somehow manage to sheathe the entirety of that meaty monster inside of himself?

Knee High - or Stockings, he wasn't sure which he was anymore - slowly tilted his head down to try and look at how much progress his friend had made. His eyes were just able to get enough of a view over his snout, before his head dropped back in disbelief.

He had successfully accommodated only half of Mr Knoll's fifth leg, and what he originally presumed was the base turned out to have been the medial ring that was wrapped around his shaft. A noticeable bulge had made itself known in Knee's abdomen, a testament to just how much of the stallion's cock now rested inside of himself. His insides had never felt so warm and so stretched out. The leftover sensitivity from the bout of rimming combined with both his ass being thoroughly used and the humiliation of being used like a sex toy was too much for the little pony. He felt like he was close to cumming, and in a desperate attempt to bring himself closer to experiencing an ejaculative bliss, he shook his hips and used what little energy remained to tighten his abused pucker around the penis-shaped log that Grassy possessed.

The convulsions from the pony around his cock seemed to tip Grassy over the edge. The tightness, the warmth, and how Knee High's ass felt as though it was specifically designed to stimulate gigantic stallion cock drove him crazy. He wanted to cum. He needed to cum. And that was exactly what he was going to do. Grassy moved his forelegs from the sofa to hold onto both of Knee High's flanks, and through sheer force of carnal will, he pulled as much of himself out of the small stallion as he could. Every millimeter of his flesh was squeezed by his mate's hungry hole as he pulled out, and before he could extract his tip, he stopped. There was no doubt in his mind that his friend-turned-fucktoy was feeling leagues emptier now than ever. And there was no doubt that he felt rather incomplete now that all but a few inches of him remained inside Stockings' waiting ass. He had to finish this. He could feel a flood of cum building up, ready to burst out and mark the end of his session of rutting.

Grassy Knoll took pride in his ability to last for hours in bed with a mare, having spent many nights in beds with escorts. However, tonight was a different beast altogether. Knee High had unknowingly brought the workhorse close to an orgasm with all but one thrust, his tightness and warmth driving Grassy over the edge. 'Twas a Hearth's Warming miracle.

Still holding onto his flanks, he released a guttural roar and buried himself back inside of the pony, forcing his way past Knee High's waiting ring and finally managing to squeeze his medial ring inside of him. He now had slightly over half of himself surrounded by a pony's insides, and felt complete. The final piece of the puzzle was in place and there was nothing more one could do. His cock swelled up as much as it could, despite the constriction his Boa was already under, and finally introduced a flood of hot, stallion spunk into Knee High's being.

Knee High's insides were warmer than they had ever felt before as Grassy emptied his balls into him. He could feel each recoiling blast of workhorse seed as they painted his organs, and Grassy Knoll bucked and bucked as he was milked of every single drop of fertile cum. He had broken his previous record from a few seconds ago, now having accepted the stallion's half-way marker in his ass, and the sensation was more than enough of a kick to bring himself to a climax.

He shut his eyes and covered his mouth with both hooves as he bucked his hips, releasing shameful load after load of cream into his panties. His movements and the twitching caused his candy cane to pop out from underneath his panties, and the emasculated stallion whined and whimpered as he shot his gay little seed all over his belly.

Both shared a blissful, white, Hearth's Warming, localized entirely on top of Sleek Stocking's sofa. Both were panting messes that were once ponies some minutes ago, and in the aftermath of their unique rutting session, the personality that was Knee High faded away, leaving only Stockings to deal with what came after.

He had done it. Stockings had received that 'good rutting' that he asked for. In fact, he received more than what he asked for, and he certainly wasn't going to complain about it.

"Grassy?" Stockings managed to gasp out as he opened his eyes, staring up at the panting pony. He could feel the sexual organ inside of him slowly deflating before the workhorse was brought back to his senses and returned his gaze.

"Y-yeah? You alright?" he responded, the husky tone of voice having been replaced with one of mild concern. Had he hurt his friend?

Sleek Stockings giggled to himself. "Yeah, I am." He then used a hoof to pat the empty space beside him on the sofa. "You can lie down if you want. And...don't worry about pulling out. I wanna enjoy this for a little longer."

The larger stallion didn't waste any time keeping hold of his host and laying down on his side, keeping himself lodged deep inside of Sleek's behind. The smallest of the pair reached out and pulled himself close to his chest, making the most of his situation and trying to get some rest.

"No homo, right?" He mumbled into his brown chest fur, shutting his eyes.

Grassy was silent for a moment, processing what Stockings had said and subsequently formulating an answer. Some seconds passed before he looked down at the pony against his body and raised an eyebrow.

"...You being serious?"

Author's Note

Yeah, this was mostly foreplay and - heh - filler text, but I'm somewhat pleased as to how my first ever clopfic turned out in the end (even if it did run over the 5k word limit of the contest). And I know that I could have done more to make the sex flow and sound better, but I don't really think I have it in me just yet to do it justice. Maybe I'll learn to do better in future.

And I suppose it is strange that an individual with a background of not having anything put into their butt before would want something put into their butt as their first option of stress relief.

Let me know what you think down below!

REQUIREMENTS
1) December holiday theme
2) Rated M
3) Cannot use the word "fuck"
4) Must have a character named Stocking
5) Must contain at least one festive pun
6) Must have cover art, but nothing with anyone having their tongue stuck on a pole.
7) Must be between 2.5k and 5k words
8) All stories must stand completely on their own. This story does NOT have to be a pony story.