Digging Deep

He wasn’t one to wax poetic about anything, much less a pony, but it would be hard for him to fully articulate all the incredible things about the zebra who was slowly capturing his heart. Shaka was a paragon of masculinity; immense in every way and with a rich, resonant voice that made him feel tingly all over, but those were just aspects of the stud’s physical appeal. Thinking of how the stallion treated him, he ground his thighs together.

Shaka treated him like an honest to goodness mare, pampering him and lavishing him with flattery and compliments whenever they were together, to the point where he was starting to question how he looked at himself. He’d always thought of himself as a stallion, acting and portraying himself in a way to accommodate the expectations of his appearance, although that was gradually beginning to change. The more he was around the Zebrican, the more he found himself adopting certain traits - traits which were getting progressively more difficult to hide from his family and the public at large.

Though Shaka hadn’t pressured him in the slightest, merely offering suggestions on ways to make him more appealing when they were with one another, his prolonged exposure to the stallion was having an effect on him. His hips swung ever so slightly when he walked, his once-proud posture was more submissive than it used to be, and he’d started growing out his mane and tail. He honestly didn’t mind the slight alterations, only having been made aware of them when Applejack had asked why he was acting differently, but he was mildly concerned that things would only get more noticeable as time went on.

His musings of the zebra reminded him of a relatively new part of his morning routine - one he’d been doing his best to adhere to. Slipping off the bed and getting to his hooves, he trotted over to his dresser, opened the top drawer and reached to the back of the small compartment. The little ritual was completely optional, a mere suggestion from his gargantuan lover, yet he’d steadfastly stuck to it every single day.

Pulling a small bottle from out of the drawer, he squinted down at the odd elixir. The stuff didn’t taste bad, nor did it have any immediate effects, but he was curious about exactly what it was supposed to do. Bringing the vial to his lips, he tilted his head back and gave himself a swig of the liquid.

Shaka had given him the potion after their second furtive and claimed that it was supposed to enhance his features and bring out his true self - whatever that was supposed to mean. He licked his lips and swallowed, turning the bottle over in his hoof before taking a second, smaller drink of the elixir. Though his instructions had been clear, to only take a single dose of the cocktail every morning, he figured that a pony of his size might need a little more than usual.

After stashing the vial back in the drawer, he trotted out of his room and into the hallway. Barring any problems that may appear in the orchard, such as a paraspite infestation or the appearance of fruit bats, work on the farm would be pretty slow for the next two months or so - until the fall harvest season would be upon his family. Ordinarily, he’d busy himself with things around the homestead, but that was before he had a special somepony in his life.

He entered the restroom, kicked the door closed behind himself, and proceeded to the tub, fully prepared to start his day with a shower, but paused as he passed the mirror. Since he’d never considered himself the vain type, only worrying about his appearance if or when he had formal occasions to tend to, he’d hadn’t paid much attention to his aesthetic until recently. Gazing at his reflection, he brushed a lock of golden hair from his face and smirked.

Though he was probably imagining it, he could swear he looked a little different. His curves were more accentuated, his face lacked the strong stallionly features once had, and his rump appeared bigger than it should have, making him wonder if his mind was playing tricks on him. Shrugging at himself, he stepped over to the basin and set the water to warm.

He felt as fit as a fiddle - no, better than that, so whatever concerns he had about himself, be they real or not, weren’t warranted. What others thought of him wasn’t important in the slightest - for buck’s sake, he’d trudged through town covered in mud, wore his yolk around on a regular basis, and had even crossdressed to appear at the Sisterhooves Social for Apple Bloom a few years ago! As he pulled the tab on the spigot, letting the hot water from the showerhead wash over him, he smirked.

It had been some time since he’d worn a dress, but he’d genuinely enjoyed gallivanting about as a mare with his youngest sister. Thinking back to the event and how ridiculous he must have looked, tried to remember where he’d ended up putting the dress, wig, and makeup he’d worn for his audacious outing. Grabbing the shampoo and closing his eyes, he lathered his mane furrowed his brow.

Truth be told, he didn’t think he’d have a reason to wear anything even remotely marish again in his life, although he could think of a particular stallion who may - just may enjoy seeing him in something a bit frilly. Quickly washing himself and rinsing off, he hopped out of the tub and fumbled for a towel. If he was fast enough, he should have enough time to go into the attic to rummage around for his misplaced belongings.

“Breakfast’ll be ready in ten minutes, Mac,” Granny called from outside, giving the door a sound knock for good measure.

“Eeeyup!” he enthusiastically called back.

He instantly pawed at his throat and grimaced, taken off guard by the sound of his own voice. Instead of the usual baritone, his tone had raised an octave or even two! With a hoof pressed to his muzzle, hearing Granny’s retreating hooffalls, he glanced back to the mirror. Maybe he wasn’t going crazy - maybe he really was becoming more effete. He shook his head and lightly slapped his face, telling himself that he’d be sure to ask Shaka about the potion when they met that afternoon, as he tossed the towel back onto the rack.

Drifting into the corridor, he peeked over the banister and to the first floor. Granny and his siblings were more than likely downstairs already and getting ready to eat, which gave him a few minutes of privacy. Since it was the off season, and because Bloom was out of school for the summer, it was difficult to do anything in the house without somepony being nosy. Turning his gaze upward and at the attic hatch, he reared onto his hind legs, grabbed the string hanging from the door on the ceiling.

As much as he cherished his family, they could be a little too inquisitive about what he’d been doing with his free time. He abhorred being dishonest to anypony, especially his kin, but he’d ultimately had to mislead them on why he was going out every evening. His sisters had believed him when he’d claimed to be training for a cross-country marathon, saying he was going out to exercise for hours on end, but Granny had and still was suspicious of his alibi.

Once he’d quietly unfolded the stairs and cantered into the loft, he squinted in the dim light. The family rarely went up the attic, using the area to store things that were too valuable to chuck into the barn, and he couldn’t recall the last time he’d been up there. He swiveled one ear to the entryway and took a step forward, before stopping himself and retreating.

What was he thinking? Even if he’d been able to find the stupid dress, this was a fool’s errand. His family would undoubtedly ask him what he was up to, regardless of whether or not he discovered his silly outfit, and he wasn’t prepared to lie to them - not again. Hastily withdrawing and closing the hatch behind himself, he scampered to the first floor.

“‘Bout time ya got down here,” Granny huffed.

Chewing and swallowing a mouthful of breakfast casserole, Applejack watched him intently. “So what were ya doin’ up there, prettycolt? Where ya brushin’ that mane and trimmin’ your hooves?”

He glowered over to his eldest sister as he trotted in and took his seat at the table. He didn’t have to explain himself to her, not if she wanted to tease him about his increasingly luscious locks, so he plated a serving of food for himself, grabbed his fork, and began eating without saying a word. What he did with himself was his own business, so long as it wasn’t bothering anypony else, and he intended to keep it that way - unfortunately, there was more than one meddlesome mare at the table.

Applebloom cleared her throat as she looked him over. “To be fair, your mane is getting kinda long. Are ya goin’ for a new look?”

“Eeeyup,” he smoothly replied, giving the filly a nod.

“And here Ah thought that hippie fad had faded,” Granny snorted. “Reckon it was only a matter a’ time until that style came back, but I hope you don’t go wearin’ none of that tie-dye nonsense; them clothes don’t look good on nopony.”

Taking a sip of her coffee, Applejack continued studying him. “Ah ain’t so much worried about tie-dye, s’much as I’m worried about that extra weight he’s been puttin’ on. The off season’s makin’ ya a little soft, Mac.”

He looked over and noticed exactly what held her attention. Instead of having her eyes on his face, she was staring down at his flank. Pursing his lips, he flicked his tail to the side to cover himself. Everypony on the farm gained a few pounds in the off season, and Applejack was no exception. Pointing to her rear and specifically the small amount of extra pudge she had herself, he smirked and peaked a brow at her.

Glancing between the pair, Granny tapped a forehoof against the table. “Y’all quit fussin’ and eat your meal. You’ll both be bustin’ your humps as soon as the harvest comes in in the fall.”

Applejack relented and went back to eating her food, as did Granny and Apple Bloom, allowing him to actually enjoy his meal. Even though it wasn’t the busiest time of the year, there would still be plenty to do after breakfast for everypony at the table. What remained of the meal was spent in relative silence, until everyone finished eating, cleaned up, and went their various ways.

With Granny knitting a sweater, Applejack going off for her morning inspection of the orchard, and Applebloom cantering into town to meet up with Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, Mac trotted to the barn to repair a hoofful of apple crates. Left to his solitude, he gathered up a hammer and a box of nails to complete his task. As he thoughtlessly set to his labor, his mind wandered back to what his eldest sister had said.

Had he really put on weight? Sweet Apple Acres didn’t have a scale for him to see if what his sister claimed was true, but he did feel a little heavier than he used to. Turning his head and leaning over, he examined his posterior with consternation. If he really had filled out a bit, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing; for starters, Shaka would probably appreciate having a little more cushion for the pushin’ - secondly and just as importantly, it wasn’t like he couldn’t whip himself back into shape if he so chose.

Systematically going through the stacks of crates, fixing the few that required his attention, he got the chore finished in less than an hour. There were a few things he could do in or around the house, if he looked hard enough, although his desire to wear something special for his big, burly stud weighed heavily upon him. A playful smirk split his muzzle and he bit back an impish snicker, when a delightfully naughty idea dawned on him.

Wearing the stuffy, admittedly conservative dress for Shaka could have been a fun change of pace, though he knew he could do better than that. After briskly returning to the home, making a pitstop in the restroom, and fetching some bits from his nightstand, he trotted back outside and onto the path leading to Ponyville. Since he wanted to surprise his stud and show himself off a bit, he wasn’t going to hold himself back.

He wasted no time getting to town, breaking into a gallop along the long, dusty road, and made a beeline to the Carousel Boutique. Buying attire wasn’t the easiest thing to do in Ponyville, but he was lucky enough to know one of the best coutures in all of Equestria. There wasn’t a piece of clothing that Rarity couldn’t custom tailor for anypony, she prided herself in pleasing her customers, and she was just open-minded enough to accommodate any outlandish requests he may have while without telling anypony about what could and potentially would be an outlandish purchase.

“Welcome to the Carouselle Boutique, how can I - Mac?” Rarity blurted, seeing the stallion burst through her door. She rushed over to greet him, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s rare for you to come here for - well, for anything really!”

Already feeling his cheeks starting to darken, he smiled down at her. In his experience, talking often complicated matters - as such, he kept his mouth shut and proceeded into the undergarments area. It was his hope that she had plus-size garments available, if only to spare his dignity and to save him from asking for a special order, and he wasn’t disappointed with what he found. Coming to a rack of lingerie, he stared in wide-eyed wonder at the sea of lace and satin.

Strolling up to his side, Rarity thoughtfully rubbed her chin. “Bit of a unique choice for a stallion such as yourself, but - wait,” she croaked, reeling back and away from him. “Big Macintosh, are you buying something special for somepony?”

“Ah…” he faltered, turning toward her while his thoughts began to race. “Eeeyup.”

Her shock instantly metamorphosed into a conspiratorial smirk. “Might I ask if - no, I shan’t pry,” she lamented, theatrically throwing a forehoof to her brow. “I’ll…I’ll be at the checkout counter, should you need me for anything.”

Nodding his thanks and waiting until she trotted away, he shifted his focus back to the dizzying array of articles. While there were a number of items in stock that would fit him, the prices on the apparel were enough to give him a moment for pause. Even the cheapest things he could see were expensive - worse still, the more revealing the garment was, the higher the price seemed to be! In a matter of minutes, balancing his budget against his impulsive desires, he selected a garter belt with a matching quartet of leggings and calmly went to make his purchase.

“A lovely ensemble, darling,” Rarity chirped as he walked up to the register. “I’m sure somepony will be very happy with these.”

Dismissively nodding, he looked over his shoulder and to the door. While he wasn’t worried about her spilling the beans about what he was buying, he couldn’t say the same for anypony else in town. On the small chance that somepony walked in and saw him getting unmentionables, he felt certain that everypony in Ponyville would hear about it sooner or later - given that, he was thankful when the seamstress neatly folded the garments and slipped them into a small paper bag.

Handing him his purchase, she rang him up and expectantly held out her hoof. “That’ll be thirty-three bits.”

He paid her without hesitation, took the bag, and nodded his thanks before turning and seeing himself out. Depending on what Shaka’s reaction was to his surprise, he could see himself going back to the boutique to invest in more lingerie, but he could think about that later - for the time being, he was compelled to try on his new, exquisitely naughty clothing, and he knew just the place to do it. Cantering through the little city, past the town hall and the southern edge of town, he galloped toward the Everfree.

Now that he had somewhere private to fool around with his titanic lover, seeing as how the zebra’s house was completed just over a week prior, he’d be able to flaunt his outfit with impunity. Shaka wouldn’t be expecting him so early, and he may not even be home, but he’d cross that bridge if and when it came to it - in fact, a part of him hoped Shaka wasn’t home. Changing into his newly acquired attire would be fun, although laying in wait for the stud, while adorned in something so sexy, would be even better.

Crossing into the treeline, he slowed as he approached Shaka’s hut. The lights in the building were off, the front door was shut, and there was no sign of life from within, filling him with hope. He’d helped the zebra move in, brought a customary apple pie, and assisted with breaking in the stud’s bed, so he was intimately familiar with the place - including where the stallion kept a spare key. Coming to a stop on the doorstep, he leaned over and peeked through one of the windows flanking the entryway.

As he suspected, the home appeared vacant. Had he been at anypony else’s house, he wouldn’t have dared to let himself in and get comfortable, but he wasn’t at anypony else’s house. Because he and Shaka had grown increasingly close over their relatively short relationship, and that he trusted the stallion implicitly with all the depraved things they’d done with one another, he wasn’t above some lighthearted trespassing.

Sneaking in without making a sound, having used and rehidden the key stashed under a rock by the entryway, he closed and locked the door behind himself. It was anypony’s guess as to when Shaka would return, which was why he scurried directly to the stud’s bedchamber. He opened the bag he carried as he went, excitedly pulled out a single legging, and snickered to himself. Yeah - the stallion - his stallion was going to be in for one heck of a shock.

The outfit was simple enough to put on, comfortable, and he was pretty confident that it looked good on him. The lavender hues of the garments clashed with his bright red coat and brilliant mane, but he wasn’t about to count his chickens before they hatched. With nothing left to do but wait, he crawled onto the bed and did just that.

As fate would have it, no more than twenty minutes after making himself comfortable, the sound of a door opening caught his ear. Unless Shaka had given somepony a key to his place, there was only one pony who’d just trotted inside. He twisted in place, propped his head on his forehoof, and struck a provocative pose while angling himself at the door and holding his breath.

Shaka didn’t notice him when he first walked in, but that changed as soon as Mac lightly smacked his flank. Freezing, the giant stud looked over to the bed and his unexpected guest. His eyes widened as they played over the pony’s body, drinking in the submissive stallion’s slatternly unmentionables, until they drifted up to his lover’s face.

“Well, well, well,” Shaka quietly began, “what have I done to deserve all this?”

Winking over at the stud, Mac ran a forehoof down his side and to his rear. Shaka had shown him a side of himself that he hadn’t known existed, and that was more than enough to earn him some special treatment. Easing himself off the bed, he strutted over and kissed the zebra’s neck.

With a sonorous hum, Shaka reached out and affectionately squeezed the pony’s rear. “How in Equestria did I get so lucky?”

Mac tittered and lifted his head to nibble his lover’s ear. Like many times before and many times yet to come, he was turned on simply by being in the same room as the titan. Rolling his hips to the side, sending his ass into the stallion’s hoof, he gave a hushed moan. The stud stepped back and away from him, creating a small gap between them, before a forehoof was brought under his chin.

“You really are a delight,” Shaka whispered. “Give me a little turn. I’d love to see that ensemble you got to spoil me with.”

Grinning like an idiot, Mac lazily spun in a circle. The act of flaunting himself in such an audacious way was positively liberating, yet it wasn’t as exciting as the zebra’s reaction to seeing him. Slipping from its sheath and hanging beneath him, growing larger with every beat of the stud’s heart, Shaka’s stallionhood was irrefutable proof that his plan had worked wonders.

Shaka chuckled and glanced back at his endowment. “I hope somepony is going to take responsibility for this…”

Mac would happily ensure the stud got some relief, but he wanted to do something a little different this time. Shaka had tenderly pushed him to be more assertive, take pride in being submissive while still taking an active role, and his persistence was having an effect. He turned and pointed to the bed, keeping his hooves crossed that the domineering colossus wouldn’t ask him to speak.

Obliging his mute request, Shaka stepped over and onto the bed. He followed moments after, moving to the foot of the bed to stare up at the stud. He’d grown more and more comfortable with serving the titan, steadily replacing the use of his toys with sucking or getting fucked by the zebra’s incredible cock, and he was thrilled to give another performance.

Crawling up the mattress, once Shaka had laid down and rolled to his back, he peered up at the stallion’s groin. The fat, ripe balls and huge length which greeted his eyes made his tail instinctively flag and flick to the side. He’d be filled soon enough, having his backdoor stuffed with dick, although that could wait until he’d properly tended to his mate.

Bringing his face between the zebra’s thighs, he drew a deep breath and shuddered. Shaka’s smell was as alluring as ever. Almost overpowering, far stronger than that of any pony stallion he’d ever been around, the musk filling his sinuses was intoxicatingly potent. Ignoring his twitching backdoor, he drew his tongue up the pair of meaty cum-tanks and to the base of his lover’s length.

“The - Mmmmm - garter belt suits you well,” Shaka fondly remarked.

Getting his knees under himself, Mac lifted his hips and arched his back. There had been a small number of times when he’d tried to act sexy for his stud, but this time was different. The marish attire he wore was empowering, as were Shaka’s comments, giving him the confidence he needed to make a spectacle of himself.

He invitingly rocked his tush from side to side, while he inched forward and dragged his tongue up Shaka’s stallionhood. Familiar flavors washed over his tongue, the zebra’s bouquet filled his sinuses, and the sight of the stud gazing down at him set his heart aflutter. Though he was tempted to skip the foreplay, he reined himself in and brought his lips to the battering ram-like tip of his lover’s cock.

Shaka’s endowment wasn’t like most stallions’ in a number of ways. The gargantuan appendage was simply too heavy to stand up on its own, resting against the stud’s abdomen, which meant he couldn’t simply lift his head to suck on the thing. Propping himself on one foreleg, he pushed himself up and lifted the tremendous limb to his muzzle.

Flexing his groin, Shaka caused his tool to jerk in Mac’s grasp. “Were you a good little mare this morning?”

“Mmmhmm,” Mac replied, closing his lips around the stallion’s cock-head.

Being a good little mare meant preparing himself for any lecherous endeavors. He’d gotten so used to cleaning himself inside and out that the custom had become a habit, doing it every morning and afternoon each and every day, making him ready for action at a moment’s notice. Feeling his pucker quiver, he bobbed his head while peering up at the striped angel before him.

He’d gotten decent at sucking on his sex-toys, wrestling his gag reflex into submission, yet his skills had done nothing but improve since he’d started sleeping with Shaka. Sometimes the stud would be passive, allowing him to choke himself on his cock, although there were other times when the zebra would lay him down and vehemently swab his throat. As long as his stallion was pleased with him, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do.

Seconds dragged into minutes and longer still, until he reared back and cleared his snout. He wasn’t sure how long Shaka was going to last, yet his palate had become coated in thick, viscous pre-cum. Getting his hooves under himself, he stepped over the stallion’s thighs, he went to reach between his hind legs to grab his lover’s length and froze.

Though he was extremely aroused, ready and willing to screw himself on the zebra, his stallionhood hung limp and virtually lifeless. It was true that he was using his endowment less and less to get off, preferring the mind-melting pleasure of anal orgasms over penile stimulation, that didn’t explain why he was soft. Alarmed by the discovery of his flaccid tool, he started when Shaka gave a hearty laugh.

“I’m gonna have to get you a cute little banana hammock to tuck that clit of yours away in,” the titan guffawed, drawing a look of concern and confusion from the pony. “That’s what it is, you know. Mares don’t have stallionhoods ~ do they?” he gently asked. As Mac shook his head, his smile grew wider. “Then what’s not to understand? You’re a mare - my mare, and that adorable little clit of yours proves it.”

Mac should have been genuinely troubled by his impotence, yet the stud’s honeyed words and collected, if not humiliating explanation was enough to abate his anxiety. Lowering his hoof and lifting the giant’s shaft, he lowered his rump and slowly exhaled. No matter how many times he took Shaka’s cock, the intrusion was as intense as it was wondrous.

Kissing his pucker to the fat tip of dick, he eased his weight down and gradually impaled himself. Engorged from regular use, having done nothing but get bigger and more pronounced throughout the past months, was driven in as the immense stallionhood ground into his depths. Pre-cum oozed from his soft length, forced out of him while his prostate was crushed, yet he paid it little heed. Continuing until he’d sheathed every inch that his stud had to offer, he only stopped when he was seated on Shaka’s lap.

He could have ridden Shaka as he was, hunched forward with forelegs braced to either side of the stallion’s chest, but his little exhibition was far from finished. Reclining, he swung his forehooves back and braced them on the zebra’s thick, muscular thighs. Making his lover feel good was only one part of the equation, with the other being to put on a show.

Leaned back with his chest, belly, and loins on full display, he flexed his legs and lifted himself slightly. He constricted his backdoor as he moved, lovingly squeezing his mate’s dick, before he threw his weight back downward. Shaka’s contented sigh and amused expression was his reward, giving him all the inspiration he needed to start rutting himself on the colossus.

A life of hard labor gave him strength enough to spare, allowing him to piston his behind like a machine - still, the blissful sensations accosting him made the ordeal almost herculean. Rolling his head back and moaning to the ceiling, he was unable to contain his glee. Moments like these were what he was coming to live for, relishing the intimacy of being connected with another, and he couldn’t help but be more vocal than normal.

His body did the work for him, moving of its own volition, while his mind grew clouded by raw pleasure. Serving his stallion was as good or better than the physical pleasure he derived from such exchanges, giving him all the more reason not to slack. He was a mare, it was his purpose to be a sexual outlet for real studs, and his one regret was that he hadn’t realized that truth earlier in his life.

On and on he went, riding Shaka like some common whore, until he felt himself nearing his limit. There was only so much he could endure, regardless of how many times he had sex with the giant, and he didn’t want to finish - not yet at least. Altering his technique, he willed his hips to transition from short, quick plunges to slower, deeper motions.

Shaka shifted and pulled a pillow under his head as he intently watched the pony bouncing on him. “Once we’re done, I may have something special for you…”

Without breaking his stride, Mac peaked a brow down at the stud. He was going to have to ask for more of the elixir, that much was for certain, but he wasn’t opposed to receiving something in return for the amorous ambush he’d enacted. The smallest bit of praise lifted his spirits, so anything other than that would surely be a welcome, cherished gift.

Try as he might to hold himself back, not to cum too prematurely, he couldn’t control himself. Shaking like a leaf, he came to a trembling halt and howled out in glee. His stallionhood gushed watery spunk onto the zebra’s stomach, seeping into the black and white bands of his lover’s coat, while he mewled and fought to keep himself upright.

Shaka stirred beneath him, planting his hind hooves on the mattress and grabbing his waist, shaking him from his reverie. “My turn…”

Like the demigod that he was, the titan began fucking him from below. His shrill, marish wail filled the air, while the enormous stallionhood filling him rearranged his insides. It shouldn’t have been possible for him to have another climax so quickly, yet he was beset by ecstasy. It was all he could do to fling himself forward and onto the stud’s chest, his brief time being in control having come to an abrupt end.

His vision tunneled, he came at least another three times, and he staved off the embrace of oblivion, doing his darndest to stay conscious for his mate. The sensation of Shaka flaring within him kept him from blacking out, if only just, but it was a trial not to succumb. Groaning and grunting with each of the stud’s thrusts, barely able to move, he clung to the waking world until his lover hilted and snarled.

Being claimed was a singular experience and he doubted he would ever tire of it. An indescribable heat surged into him, painting his insides and marking him as Shaka’s mare, and it wrought devastation upon him. His limbs went slack, the world tumbled away, and the last thing he remembered before surrendering himself to the abyss were the final words Shaka had uttered to him - ‘I may have something special for you…’