Digging Deep

Stashing his dildo beneath his mattress, away from prying eyes, Mac wistfully smiled. He knew the relief was temporary, that the high of the climax he’d just given himself would fade through the day, but it was better than nothing. He turned and trotted out of his room, drawn by the smell of freshly made pancakes wafting upstairs from the kitchen.

His time in Manehattan had been absolutely incredible, yet it had left him a changed stallion. He’d ultimately ended up visiting the Black Stripe every single night he’d been in town, and each of his trips to the seedy bar had been more perverse than the last. The zebras had done things with him - to him, that would make a whore blush, although their treatment of him had come with a cost.

He hadn’t minded finding out that they’d written all manner of demeaning things on his flanks and backside, having found arrows pointing to his backdoor or comments about how his balls were useless, nor had he been bothered when he’d been blindfolded and guided into a different chamber to be freely plowed like a living sex-toy - if anything, he’d been thrilled with both of those developments. The real issue he’d been left with was internal, the ramifications of what he’d been through, and he had nopony to blame but himself. After sampling the forbidden fruit, feeling how amazing it was to be used by stallions, he yearned for more.

“G’mornin’, Mac,” Granny chirped, waving from the table. “Ya sleep well last night?”

He nodded, wrenched from his lecherous musings. “Eeeyup.”

His family, both the ones in Sweet Apple Acres and those he’d gone to see in Manehattan, had been none the wiser about his perversions. The marker that had been applied to him had washed out of his crimson coat, the degrading names and sinful things that he’d been peppered with had been for his ears alone, and the seed that had drenched his interior was a bittersweet memory. Walking past Applejack and to the table, he eased himself into his chair and flinched when he felt the cool wood kiss his pucker.

One small consequence of repeatedly abusing his behind was that his once virginal pucker had grown to accommodate the increasingly frequent use - literally. The soft, yielding flesh of his backdoor had become more prominent, appearing not unlike a large, yielding donut, and he was honestly lucky that nopony had noticed it - that or if anypony had noticed it, they’d spared him the ignominy of pointing it out. As he flicked his tail out to the side, the corners of his lips turned up when he recalled how some nameless stud had called his hole a pussy.

Swallowing a mouthful of flapjack, Applejack smirked over at him. “Looks like somepony’s in good spirits.”

Giving a second nod, unable to keep the smile from his muzzle, he reached for his fork. “Eeeyup.”

He was in decent spirits, but that was temporary. Since he’d gotten back to Ponyville, his days had been mostly the same; he’d wake up, eat breakfast with his kin, toil in the fields, and then fuck himself silly before going to bed. While he didn’t mind his routine, taking comfort that he’d accepted his love of anal, he was well aware that things could be better than they were - if only because of the town’s newest resident.

It had come as a pleasant surprise when he’d learned that Shaka, the titanic cousin of Zecora, was building a small hut for himself just within the Everfree forest. Receiving news that the adonic stud, the very stallion who’d inadvertently set him on a path of self-discovery, was now living within trotting distance was a mixed bag. While he was happy that he’d be seeing the giant stallion again, he still grappled with how to speak to the majestic zebra.

After finishing their meal in relative silence, the quartet cleaned up and parted ways. Granny tottered off to feed the animals, Applejack went to mend a loose wagon wheel, and he accompanied Apple Bloom toward the front door. He didn’t have to accompany his little sister on her way to school, but he had to pick up a sack of grain and some rope from the Barnyard Bargains shop in town. Seeing as how he was headed in the same direction as his youngest sibling, he figured it wouldn’t hurt anything to join her.

He happily listened to Apple Bloom prattle on about her classwork, her friends, and her adventures in and around Ponyville while they made their way into town, making the trip a pleasant one. Between the filly’s chattiness and his stoicism, listening to her throughout their journey, they arrived at the schoolhouse in what felt like a matter of minutes. Tousling her mane before she could gallop off to meet Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle, he looked over in the direction of the general store.

As he shifted his weight and pressed onward, his eyes drifted in the Everfree in the distance. He’d nearly bumped into Shaka twice in the last week, and on both occasions he’d surreptitiously excused himself before speaking with the striped stallion. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to interact with the zebra - quite the opposite, in fact, although merely being in the presence of the giant stud left him feeling weak. Meandering down the street and into the shop, he thoughtlessly moved down one aisle.

Before he knew it, he’d made his purchases, slung the sack of grain onto his back, and stepped outside. An unfortunate side effect of his budding carnality was that he was only recently starting to notice how boring a great many things were. He loved his family and the quaint little life he had for himself, yet the naughty things he’d done for himself were electrifying. Rounding a corner and crossing the road, he slowed when a towering figure emerged from behind a building.

He recognized Shaka in an instant, making his limbs lock up and bringing him to a halt. As he went to look away from the stallion, not wanting to draw attention to himself, the behemoth peered in his direction and waved a hoof. Licking his lips and feeling his pulse start to race, feeling his fight or flight instincts beginning to activate, he powerlessly watched the giant come casually sauntering over to him.

“Big Mac,” the giant began, coming to a stop before him, “it feels like it’s been forever since I’ve spoken with you.”

‘E…eeeyup,” he wheezed, suddenly feeling parched.

Shaka smirked down at him and cocked his head slightly to the side. “You haven’t been avoiding me ~ have you?”

With his hair standing on end and his stomach twisting in on itself, Mac shook his head. “Nope!”

The giant chuckled as he leaned in and playfully elbowed his chest. “I jest, of course - that said, I still need to repay you for your help,” he continued. Apparently noticing the confused look on the pony’s face, he peaked a brow. “You gave me directions and greeted me at the train station, even though you didn’t say much at the time.”

Slowly nodding his head, Mac didn’t know how to reply. The mention of being repaid for his kindness was antithetical to who he was, never once having asked for anything in return for an act of kindness, yet he was tempted to see what, if anything the stallion had in mind. With a timid grin on his face, he peered into the frosty pools that were the zebra’s eyes.

“I - oh!” the stallion started, glancing over his shoulder. “I nearly forgot to mention it, but have you heard I’ll soon be living just outside town?”

Mac reared back in feigned surprise. “Nope!”

Shaka turned and pointed off in the distance. “My home will be a short distance from Zecora’s hut, albeit a bit closer to the treeline. I’d invite you to my cousin’s house for a cup of tea and to see the construction, but -”

“Ah…” he interrupted, his voice nearly as faint as a whisper, “Ah’d like that…”

His legs threatened to collapse, his throat was tight, and he could tell without looking that he was a brighter shade of red than usual, yet he held himself steady and somehow managed to hold the zebra’s gaze. He couldn’t have anticipated running into Shaka, much less being asked to join the stud for tea, but he wasn’t about to let such an opportunity pass him by. As the stallion beamed and gradually turned in place, his heart skipped a beat.

Trotting away, Shaka waved for him to follow. “And you’re certain that now is a good time? I’d hate to inconvenience you if you’re busy.”

Cantering forward to catch up with the lumbering colossus, he shook his head. “Eeeyup.”

Since there was enough feed at the barn to last several days, it couldn’t hurt anything to take a bit of time out of his day to be polite - at least that would be his story if Applejack or Granny Smith asked him why he’d taken so long getting back to the homestead. Briskly trotting to keep up with the behemoth, he caught himself slipping glances over at the zebra. The logical part of his brain begged him not to get his hopes up, that expecting anything other than tea and perhaps a brief chat would be silly, yet his imagination paid little heed to his common sense. He subconsciously slowed while they moved to the outskirts of town, allowing him to more easily inspect his massive host.

Though he tried not to stare at the midnight-black sheath and weighty, pendulous balls hanging from the stud’s groin, it was impossible not to eye Shaka’s goods. He glanced up to the stud’s face from time to time, ensuring he wouldn’t be caught with his metaphorical hoof in the cookie jar, but his anxiety was steadily replaced by mounting excitement. Past the fields outside of town and to the edge of the forest he marched, until he and the stud were enveloped in shadow.

Coming to a stop as he crested a hill, Shaka motioned to his left. “It may not look like much right now, but this will be my home soon.”

Mac looked over at the construction and silently evaluated the work. While he’d never received any formal training on how to build much of anything, the foundation, framing, and all appeared to be of high quality - moreover, he could tell that the structure would be relatively sizable. Trotting closer to the site, trying to make out what the various rooms would be, he started when a massive hoof came to rest on his shoulders.

“Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a nice little kitchen, and a fine den - more than enough room for a bachelor,” Shaka remarked, peering over at what would be his house.

Pursing his lips, Mac laconically nodded his head. A bachelor - Shaka had just referred to himself as a bachelor. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself, but the idea that the giant was single evoked an unfamiliar sense of giddiness in him. Seeing the zebra pivot and continue toward Zecora’s hut, he followed along after the colossus.

“So I have heard that you’re a stallion of few words,” the stud noted, peeking over his shoulder at him.

“Ah…eeeyup,” he answered, turning his eyes to the ground.

Without breaking stride, Shaka sighed. “Shame - though I’ve only heard a little of it, you have a beautiful voice…”

Literally stumbling, Mac nearly toppled to the earth. He’d been called many things over the years, but he’d never had anypony refer to any part of him as beautiful - even throughout his time at the Black Stripe, when his admirers had called him all sorts of slatternly things, nopony had called him beautiful. Mutely flapping his jaw, attempting to form some sort of a coherent reply, he noticed the giant’s grin broaden.

“Perhaps you’ll find your voice once we relax,” Shaka murmured.

Mac considered himself fortunate that they reached Zecora’s doorstep within minutes, although he cursed his luck shortly after being seen inside. The potion maker’s house was just as he remembered it, festooned with Zebrican art, bottled elixirs, and with a huge cauldron sitting in the middle of the central chamber, but the mare herself was nowhere to be seen. Fidgeting, he was left to wonder if he was alone with the stallion.

With a grace that belied his gargantuan size, Shaka closed the door behind him and strolled over to an oversized sofa at the far end of the circular room. “Come and make yourself comfortable.”

Glancing to the kitchen, Mac scrunched his snout. Though there was a teapot sitting beside the stove, there was no trace of steam - leading him to believe his host was more interested in his company than he was having a drink. Sweeping his gaze across the interior of the home, he intentionally avoided looking at the stud while looking for anything out of place.

The titan seated himself lengthwise upon the piece of furniture and beckoned to him. “The tea can wait for a time, unless you’re exceptionally thirsty.”

Swinging his eyes over to the reclined zebra, Mac took a hesitant step closer to his host and shook his head. He couldn’t care less about the tea, especially if he really was alone with the hulking hunk of a zebra, but he didn’t want to tip his hoof - not yet. He’d just passed the cauldron, cautiously drawing nearer to his host, when the giant shifted.

“May I ask a question?” Shaka serenely inquired. Once Mac nodded, he grinned. “Is there any particular reason you’re fascinated by me?”

Mac froze, woefully unprepared for the blunt question. His blush deepened, he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, and he gulped as he stared down at the floor. He’d thought he’d been relatively furtive, unobtrusively and briefly peeking at the stallion on their short trot to the forest, although it appeared as though his efforts had been in vain.

Smiling just as tranquilly as ever, unperturbed by his flustered guest, Shaka dismissively waved a hoof. “I meant no offense, in part because I find you rather charming.”

The admission threw his mind into utter chaos. Even if he could have found his voice, what in the world was he supposed to say to being called charming? Considering his options, uncertain if “charming” had a different meaning in Zebrica, he lifted his gaze when the stud snickered. Shaka hadn’t moved from the couch, although the position he’d taken was nothing short of staggeringly provocative.

“See for yourself,” the colossus breathed, peering down at himself.

Instead of laying on his side or stomach, as one would do while simply trying to relax, the stud had rolled to his side and unabashedly cocked one hind leg upward. The stallion’s pose was like something he’d seen in one of his PlayMare magazines, and the sight nearly broke him. The broad chest, flat abdomen, and powerful build of the zebra was put on full display, yet it was the onyx length languidly slipping from Shaka’s sheath that held his full attention.

Though the urge to flee was still there, compelling him to bolt for the door, he took another step, followed by a second and third, until he was almost within reach of the basking adonis. An erection was something that was impossible for a stallion to fake, as far as he knew, so seeing that his host was getting visibly excited meant one of two things - either Shaka was lying through his teeth and thinking about something exceptionally stimulating or he was the cause of the zebra’s arousal. He swallowed, realizing his mouth had started watering, and willed himself to shy away.

Regardless of what Shaka thought of him, it simply wasn’t right to gawk at his host. Aside from being rude, openly ogling the stud could and possibly would make his life more complicated. It was one thing to fantasize about stallions in the privacy of his room, it was another to have Ponyville’s newest resident gabbing about how he had an unhealthy attraction to studs - particularly the big, striped variety. Sensing himself growing hard, he turned slightly to cover his welling shame.

“Oh please,” Shaka boomed. “Modesty doesn’t suit you, Big Mac, although I’m still a bit bewildered about your title - you see, I’m much, much bigger than you…”

In one of the rarer moments in his life, Mac was genuinely speechless. With a single comment, he’d been simultaneously knocked down a peg and had one of his newfound fetishes teased. He averted his gaze, wanting to hear and see more yet too bashful to make a move, and apprehensively swatting a lock of mane from his face.

“Could you - no,” the titan quietly gasped, unseating himself and marching over.

The approach was so sudden and forceful that Mac felt a pang of concern. With a gigantic hoof brought to his jaw, his head was turned to look up at the stallion. Once again, he felt small - so very, very small, and the alien sensation set his nerves alight. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breath, and he could scarcely form a thought, as the giant leaned in and stared into his wide, fearful eyes.

Shaka relented after only a moment, releasing him and taking a large step back. “Am I the first stallion to catch your eye? I may be mistaken - surely I am mistaken, but your coyness is -”

“E…eeeyup,” Mac sputtered.

“You jest,” Shaka insisted, holding a hoof to his bosom as if stricken. “A stallion as comely and demure as yourself must have had -”

Casting his head from side to side, wading through his worry, Mac donned a sheepish smile. “Nope…”

“Sorry. You must forgive me,” the zebra muttered, returning to and seating himself upon the sofa. “I’d assumed you were simply toying with me, but it seems that wasn’t the case. And you’ve not fancied a stallion before you met me?”

“N…nope,” he stammered.

While he detested misleading anypony, it was a relatively harmless omission of truth. He had slept with stallions before, those few patrons of the bar he’d gone to, but this was his first time openly confessing his feelings to anypony face to face. His host chuckled and shook his head in amusement before shamelessly splaying his legs.

“Since this appears to be a novel experience for the both of us, let’s try to enjoy ourselves. It’s as clear as the sun on a cloudless day that we’re both a bit worked up, so how about we indulge ourselves,” he purred, reaching down to caress his semi-rigid length. “And since you’re my guest, I would be remiss for not allowing you to seize the initiative…”

As unbelievable as it was, the words and actions of Mac’s host left no room for doubt - the zebra liked him, or at the very least wasn’t opposed to giving him a roll in the hay. Shuffling closer to the stallion, he hungrily eyed Shaka’s goods. He’d bet good bits that the stud’s endowment was vastly larger than any of the visitor’s he’d serviced in Manehattan, but there was only one way to be sure of that…

Lowering his head and drawing his cheek up Shaka’s powerful thigh, he breathed in the heady musk radiating from the zebra’s loins. He’d initially thought that Zebricans didn’t bathe, initially taken by surprise by how strong they all smelled, but he was beginning to suspect that their unique aroma had nothing to do with hygiene. As his snout neared the giant’s plump, heavy nuts, he closed his eyes.

“Ah ah -” Shaka tutted, prompting the pony to look up at him, “I’ll have none of that. I want you to look at me while you serve me.”

Mac gulped but did as he’d been asked, maintaining eye contact as gave the zebra’s balls a small, introductory kiss. He’d licked the nuts and even the asses of a few anonymous patrons at the Black Stripe, finding the activity far more exhilarating than he’d thought it would be, although this time was different. Peering up at the stud and seeing the approving smile on his face, he quietly moaned.

Remaining where he was, Shaka winked down at the pony. “Such a good little mare - so eager, so nervous! You’ve been wanting this for so long ~ haven’t you?”

Fighting his instinct to look away, Mac dragged his tongue up the stud’s balls and to the thick folds of flesh that was Shaka’s sheath. Familiar tastes of sweat and flesh danced over his palate, spurring him onward. While the exchange was totally unexpected, like something out of a dream or a piece of cheesy erotic literature, he was overjoyed that his crush, the very stallion who’d awoken a part of him he hadn’t known existed, found him appealing.

“It’s ok, I understand,” Shaka sighed with an almost wounded expression on his face. “You can be honest with me, I promise. Since you first saw me, you’ve thought about how I could be the only stallion to treat you how you want to be treated…”

“Eeeyup,” Mac whispered, peeking past the obsidian behemoth draped over his face.

“And I bet you’ve dreamt of doing this for years,” the stud added with a glint in his eyes. “Or maybe - just maybe, you have a particular liking for zebras…”

Using his lips and tongue to lavish his host’s shaft, Mac didn’t - couldn’t reply. The zebra had been partially correct on both accounts, and it fanned the flames of his lust. Opening his jaw and extending his tongue as he reached the Shaka’s cock-head, moments filling his muzzle, he stopped when he saw the stern look on the stallion’s face.

“I don’t mind your silence - in fact, I find it quite charming, although I do have one question I want you to answer. When I called you a good little mare, your tail flagged,” Shaka purred. “Would you like me to keep referring to you as my little mare?”

As his exhilaration warred with his shame, Mac broke the stallion’s gaze. “Eeeyup…”

“Then by all means, my little mare,” the zebra mused, “serve me and show me just how badly you wish to have a real stallion in your life…”

The bit of encouragement and the emasculating comment was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Leaning in and reaching out with his forehoof, draped over one of the zebra’s lower legs, Mac wrapped his lips around the immense tip of Shaka’s length. He couldn’t fathom why being demeaned thrilled him so much, yet being belittled by domineering stallions turned him on like nothing ever had.

Though it was a bit of a struggle, having to remind himself to keep his eyes forward, he managed to look up at Shaka while sucking the stud off. It had been nearly a month since he’d returned from Manehattan, but he’d continued practicing his oral skills on his toys - a routine he was instantly thankful for. Stroking the thick root of cock with his hoof, he drove his head downward and filled his lungs.

There was no doubt about it, Shaka was way more heavily endowed than any of the studs who’d swabbed his throat or plowed his ass at the bar, but that wasn’t enough to deter him from giving his very best. Though he winced as the bloated cock-head sank into his gullet, feeling his esophagus spasm at the intrusion, he didn’t relent. Further and further he descended, literally choking himself on the behemoth, until his lips graced the colossus’ medial ring.

He could have pushed himself further, attempting to fully hilt Shaka in his muzzle, although he resignedly decided against it. This was his chance to prove himself, to earn the stud’s approval, and he wasn’t about to let his hubris crush his chances. Rearing back just enough to get a sip of air, he started blowing his host in earnest.

His jaw was strained, his stallionhood was so hard that it hurt, and his backdoor angrily clenched from the lack of attention, yet he ignored them all. This wasn’t about him, his needs or wants weren’t important - no, the only thing that mattered was ensuring Shaka was pleased with his efforts. Softly gagging and moaning around the stallion’s shaft, mopping it of sweat and saliva with his lips, he gave an impulsive wink up at his generous host.

“Now I know you were lying,” Shaka hummed. “I bet you’ve got stallions knocking at your door morning, noon, and night to be with you.”

Withdrawing and freeing his snout with a soft pop, Mac shook his head. “Nope.”

“Amazing - truly amazing,” the stud chortled. “I can’t speak for anypony else but - well, the results speak for themselves. I haven’t been this turned on in ages.”

Again, the words rang true. The zebra was fully erect and leaking pre-cum, having coated Mac’s tongue in the thick, salty substance, and he’d clearly been enjoying himself. As he went to pick up where he’d left off, fully intent on fellating his host, the stallion sat up and extended a foreleg to stop him.

“Not to come off as too hasty, but would you mind if we moved this along?” Shaka politely inquired.

“N…nope!” Mac guiltily replied, slipping off the sofa.

Shaka followed suit, easing himself to the floor before trotting across the room. “Be a dear and make yourself comfortable for me - preferably on your back.”

Looking to the couch, realizing that the piece of furniture would be less than ideal for anything other than foreplay, Mac knit his brow. Zecora’s bed was the only one in the house, so far as he was aware, and he was reluctant to defile where she slept with an erotic act - be that as it may, he had been given a command. Rushing across the chamber and into a small alcove set to the side, he flung himself onto the alchemist’s mattress and rolled onto his back.

Trotting over with a small vial of liquid balanced in one forehoof, Shaka tittered to himself. “You’re quite alluring when you’re enthusiastic ~ has anypony ever told you that?”

Repositioning himself, Mac brought his tush to the edge of the bed’s side. “N…nope…”

“No need to be shy,” Shaka cooed. “Spread those legs and let me get a good, long look at the succulent ass of yours.”

Mac faltered but complied, splaying his hind legs for his host. What little embarrassment he felt was eclipsed by the blinding light of his desires, allowing him to show off his comparably small stallionhood and pronounced backdoor. With his cock draped over his abdomen, leaking pre-cum like a broken faucet, he watched as the zebra poured an opalescent fluid over his package and pucker.

“This should help both of us enjoy ourselves,” Shaka explained, setting the bottle aside.

Darned if Mac knew what he’d just been doused with, but he couldn’t have cared less. Within a matter of seconds, a feeling of warmth crept up his loins. It only made sense that the liquid had been some sort of potion, and that Shaka, being the cousin of an apothecary, was familiar with elixirs and their uses, yet the revelation made him feel a bit silly. Reaching up and pulling a pillow under his head, he readied himself for the inevitable.

Shaka stepped up and onto the bed, placing his forehooves to either side of Mac’s hips, and smiled down at the pony’s face. “Do you know why I asked you to be on your back?”

There were a thousand potential reasons why he’d been asked to lay supine, not the least of which being that he was about to be rutted like a mare in heat - he hoped, so he gave an honest answer. “Nope…”

“It’s your eyes,” Shaka answered, shuffling forward and kissing the head of his cock to the pony’s slickened hole. “I want to look into those beautiful emeralds as I make you a mare - my mare…”

The sensation of the bloated tip of stallionhood against his pucker, paired with the promise of being made Shaka’s mare, was enough to drive Mac mad. Bringing his fetlocks up to the stud’s hips, he flexed his legs and pulled. In that moment, staring into the face of the most handsome equine in all of existence, he wanted nothing more than to surrender his masculinity and be fucked like a lucky filly on prom night.

As Shaka steadied himself and drove his hips forward, his backdoor yielded with startling ease. He couldn’t count how many times he’d wantonly screwed himself with his dildos, and he’d been plowed by at least a half-dozen different stallions back at the bar, yet being filled by the titan was different and more wondrous than any of his past experiences. Every inch of glorious cock that ground into his depths sent waves of pleasure coursing through him, there wasn’t a bit of discomfort, and his composure nearly broke from the penetration alone.

“You’re so warm and snug,” Shaka contently sighed. “It’s almost like we’re made for one another.”

Mac almost came as the thick band of flesh marking the lower portion of the zebra’s shaft glided over his prostate, but he was able to keep himself from cumming. He’d never felt so full in his entire life, and the stud hadn’t even hilted him yet! Looking down his body, seeing the imprint of Shaka’s dick within his abdomen, he was unprepared for when his host started to move.

Rolling his hips back and freeing a portion of his shaft, Shaka began thrusting slowly. Each plunge was delicate, almost loving, causing Mac to stifle himself - at least he tried to stifle himself. No sooner did he reach for his snout than the titan grabbed his forelegs and pinned them to the bed.

“No,” the giant rumbled, “I want to hear you moan…”

And moan Mac did. He whimpered and turned his head to the side, biting his lip in a vain attempt to stop the unseemly noises escaping him, but it was no use. Bucking up to meet Shaka’s bucking hips, all but fucking himself on the colossus, he gave himself fully to the striped adonis.

The climax which struck him was monumental, flensing his sanity and leaving him a gibbering, gushing mess, but Shaka wasn’t finished with him - not by a long shot. Pounding into him, beaming all the while, the carnal demigod gave a little snort. It was only with the utmost willpower, virtually forcing himself to look upward, that he met the stud’s eyes.

“You - Mmmph - may not be mine yet, but you will be,” Shaka growled, leaning in and biting the pony’s collar.

For a second time, Mac came and brayed to the heavens. The tinge of pain mingled with his rapture, sending him to ever-greater heights of ecstasy. He’d felt certain that Shaka would be an impeccable lover, yet he’d underestimated the overwhelming, incomprehensible amorous might of the titan ruining him.

Weaving in and out of consciousness, weathering one orgasm after another, Mac fought tooth and hoof not to black out. Laying there, being made love to in such an unimaginable way, was indescribable, and he wished it would never end - sadly, all good things had to come to an end. Rocking forward and back atop the sheets, with his hole being dragged out and stuffed back in with each of Shaka’s thrusts, he felt the stallionhood within him begin to flare.

Pistoning into Mac at full speed, Shaka grunted through gritted teeth. “Scream for me…”

The sensation of scalding seed coursing through his depths, pumped into him by the zebra’s pulsing length, brought with it the most powerful climax of Mac’s life. His shrill, marish wail of bliss echoed throughout the hut and to his ears, sounding almost alien, yet he paid it little heed. He may have been rutted by the stallions at the bar, but now he was truly claimed.

His eyelids fluttered and he heaved air into his chest as the stallion eventually dismounted. If somepony had told him that he was dreaming, he may have just believed them, so all-encompassing was his euphoria - nevertheless, he had just enough strength to shudderingly lift his head and roll to his side. There was something he had to do, and he wasn’t going to even think about leaving until he’d done it.

Turning around, he pulled his face over the side of the bed and dutifully opened his maw. It was a mare’s duty to clean her stallion after he was finished with her, so he did just that. With a smirk plastered on his muzzle, Shaka presented his twitching, cum-slathered length to him. He didn’t hesitate, lapping at the slickened shaft with as much vigor as he could muster, and was rewarded with a pleased chuckle from above.

“Good mare,” Shaka mused…