With a Bigger, Meaner Cock
Working as a maid for the Crystal Palace, Comfy Clouds got the distinct sense he was more prey than pony.
It should have been the highest honor he'd ever received in his life. If he'd been asked on the day he received that letter, inviting him to perform cleaning duties at the castle, he'd certainly have told you it was. Anyone in their right mind would be over Luna's Moon to be in genuine, bonafide service of a Princess' house.
Now, weeks later, he wasn't so sure.
Oh yes, you could still ask him and he'd tell you he'd never been happier. He'd swear up and down, stake his life on the great honor, privilege, and satisfaction he took in the work he did. That might even be true, to a certain extent.
But if you offered him the chance to turn back time, he might just take it.
It wasn't the two present rulers of the Empire that concerned him. Princess Cadance and her recently husband-turned-wife Gleaming Shield were more than kind. In fact, he'd been pleasantly surprised to discover just how friendly, flexible, and accommodating they were. Compared to some previous employers of his, the Crystal Crown proved exceptional in the treatment of their workers.
No, it wasn't them.
It was their daughter.
Princess Flurry Heart, Equestria's first natural-born alicorn, Heiress to the imperial throne and Crystal Heart, absolutely terrified him.
He argued often with himself whether his fears had any grounding in reality. The incidents that had marked themself so firm in his mind could have been innocent, after all. It wasn't as though she'd ever done something directly untoward.
Yet he could not shake the feeling. Or, more accurately, he simply knew better.
Time and again, in the past month and change he'd discovered her watching him. Her eyes, the purest blue he'd ever seen, seemed to feast on his body. If they did, he couldn't blame her. She wouldn't have been the first to ogle him up, not by a long shot.
His curvy frame, stuck into a frilly prench maid's outfit, made for quite the delectable sight. Any mare or stallion would find him appealing - the way his plump thighs kissed, or his broad hips strained the uniform's white lace. On several occasions he'd feared bending over might result in tearing that pretty skirt right off his bubbly butt.
So yes, attention was not at all a stranger to the pegasus boy Comfy Clouds. Neither was the frightening kind of attention, the sort where gazing eyes ripped his clothing away, and sized him up like bloody, dripping meat.
The one incident that pushed him near to quitting happened three days past. He'd been scrubbing the dirt from the many full body mirrors in Princess Cadance's possession when he turned to re-wet his cloth. Perhaps he hadn't been looking where he was headed, or she'd stepped out from behind a wall, or teleported in front of him.
Either way, he bumped right against her. Those fat, juicy royal jugs squished against his flat chest, eager to swallow him up in their barely restrained gothic glory. She made no sound of surprise. She wanted him to run into her.
That might not have been so bad if that were it.
But it wasn't.
Because down below, against his belly, he felt a hard, undulating throb.
A shriek, blush red as the fiercest lash mark, and sputtering apologies later, he had excused himself, but the memory remained. She'd appeared with greater frequency afterwards, pretending to tap on her phone, or apply her glossy vantablack lipstick.
Pretending didn't do much good when he could see the stiff bulge of alicorn cock down her shiny, skin-hugging, black latex shorts.
He shuddered to think of it. Too many nights he'd drifted off to sleep thinking about what it would look like uncovered. Too many nocturnal agitations did he spend with his hand between plump thighs, fingers playing at his aching folds.
Stupid, sexy, terrifying, busty, hung, black-covered and piercing-laden Princess Flurry Heart.
Groaning, he pressed his legs together. Now he'd gotten himself worked up.
From his experience, dickmares could smell arousal from miles away. He needed to find a shower and quick, if he wanted to conceal his scent.
Especially considering he was cleaning Flurry's room.
Squirming at the sensation of moistness beneath his panties, Comfy dusted off the last of Flurry's desk. Little actual dust gathered here, but food and drink stains were another thing. He stood, smoothed out his skirt, and turned around.
Or he would have, were it not for the heavy, hardened log of flesh that slapped between his cheeks.
He twisted himself around, despite knowing there was no reason to. It wasn't any question whose dick now lay so snuggly in the vast crevice of his femboy ass.
Flurry Heart stood behind him, shiny black pillows split into a shark-esque grin. Her eyes, half-lidded and surrounded by pounds of matching black makeup, bore into him with a dark red hunger. When Comfy's attention tore away from her bared chest and pierced nipples, their gazes met.
Long, filed sharp nails dug into his flesh.
"Hello," she drawled. While she might have been mere heiress to the Crystal Empire, she sounded far more imperious than Cadance ever had. She didn't even bother looking at him as she talked, instead watching something on her phone, held aloft by magic.
"H-h-hello, Your Majesty."
"Awww, you used my proper title!" She squeezed his hips, and ground her cock against his back. It pulsed, and a moment later something hot and wet dropped against his neck. "Thanks, cutie. I always appreciate when ponies give me the proper respect."
An unconscious whine rose from his throat. Wings ruffling, he squirmed, trying to think of how he could extract himself from this situation. He needed to get out, and fast. He was still a nurse primarily and a maid second. If he quit he'd have an easy excuse about the hospital demanding more of his time, and he'd never have to worry about Flurry Heart or her delicious, meaty shestallion fuckpole ever again.
Glancing back a second time, he got proper view to the true scale of that tool. Majestic was truly the only word that could aptly describe it. From her groin it jut out with obscene vulgarity, thick as a two-liter bottle and mapped with a dizzying network of chubby veins, each and every last one throbbing to the beat of her heart. The whole thing shone as royal purple like with her teats, reflective with the natural perspiration that came so easily to dickmare studs. He had the inkling should she tip it upwards, the flare could touch her horn.
"W-well yes, of course. It's only right to use the... f-fitting moniker for royalty, but ah-" He gulped. He could feel her balls against his backside, throbbing as much as her cock. "I was in the middle of cleaning. I should really get back to that now, ahem. Excuse my... b-bluntness, Princess."
"Were you?"
She didn't seem so convinced. Raising an eyebrow, her fingertips crawled below his skirt. At the band of his panties she pulled, running a digit against the sodden fabric.
"See," she said. Her fingertip slid past the fabric, teased his winking pearl. "From my point of view, you looked like you were just getting done with cleaning up! And, well, even if you were..."
All at once, she ripped the panties from his crotch. He yelped, voice cut short as she gripped his flanks. With terrible, awful slowness, she spread them apart, revealing his puffy mound and puffier, succulent ponut, the sort of tight and fleshy wring handcrafted to make pricks drool and balls unload churning gallons of sticky seed.
"I'm the Crystal Princess, silly. You do understand what that means, right?" She giggled. "Don't worry about answering that. It means I can do whatever the fuck I want to you, whenever and whenever I wanna fucking do it. And right about now? I'm reeeeally feeling like tapping that fat ass. So shut the fuck up like the good boy you are, and serve your superior."
Before he could offer a word of refusall, she shoved her hips forward. Pain shot up his spine for a split second, then melted into a warm hot pink goo of pleasure.
Comfy, although not as shamelessly promiscuous as some other femme and cuntcolts, was far a stranger from sex. He'd taken a broad selection of cocks up his butt - some longer, some wider, some with broader flares or girthier roots. He'd taken dicks that would put the vast majority of Equestria's dildo market to shame.
Flurry's cock created a caliber of its own.
The flare alone brought tears to his eyes. Below his stomach stretched, bulging outwards with the impossible breadth of a bullhammer dickhead made for plowing big booty cuties like him. He might not have wanted to admit it, but he was the natural prey for behemoth cocks like these, and the shestud mares that wielded them.
Inches at a time shoved their way into his tight, wringing asshole. All the while she grinned and laughed behind him, bucking her hips and bouncing her hand off his ass like she were having the most fun time of her life.
Then, as the medial ring pressed against his stretched donut and met resistance, she took hold of his tail dock. In one swift and brutal jerk, she yanked him backwards.
He moaned, gelatinous cakes quaking with earthrumbling force as they slapped against Flurry's crotch. All of her was inside him now. The singular thing he could manage now was to make sounds like a whore, and wobble like one, too.
She slid out, and a second later shoved every foot of her titanic tyrian tower of terror back inside. Only a faint huff or puff did she give to show exertion or pleasure, otherwise leaving the slattern squeals to him.
As her pounding continued, it grew harsher. The resounding smacks of flesh meeting flesh echoed in the room, through the door, and down the crystalline palace halls, refracted and bounced around by the various facets. There wasn't any point in counting the seconds his lower half jiggled, because it did so non-stop, his greedy cocksocket never given the reprieve it needed to recover.
The desk shook, edge banging against the wall. Desperate, he clutched for purpose on whatever edge of the table he could get his hands on, and doing so noticed his hooves had left the ground. She held him up by the sheer force of her fucking alone.
Moments or minutes later, warmth blossomed in his core - the familiar feeling of cum flooding his depths. Ropes of tacky white glop shot straight as a bullet through his clenching cavern, and second by second his belly bloated to obese proportions. Squishing against the desk's surface, then pushing against it, he found himself rising.
Panting, his cunt spasmed, aching for attention Flurry would not give. He rest his hands against the torrential swell of his tummy, round and huge enough to fool any ordinary pony into thinking he'd gone pregnant for months - with a litter. Behind she slid out, flare popping into the cool castle air with a sickening squrlcshp.
Too out of it, he hadn't even noticed his outfit rip.
"I hope you don't think I'm done with you, by the way," she teased. "That was just my pre."
Oh dear heavenly stars above.
"Oh! And, heehee, one more thing I may or may not have forgotten to mention? Did I?" She placed a midnight-painted nail to her cushy kissy lips. "Oh, I'll just tell you anyway. My cum is very, mmm. How should I say - special?"
At that moment, Comfy felt a tingle. It concentrated in a few key areas, buzzing and almost pushing behind his chest, thighs, and ass. The first hint to his oncoming doom came in the form of his ballooned cumgut audibly glahrpin, and a heartbeat later shrinking in size.
The second clue came when, all at once, the prolific padding of his front and back bwomf'd larger.
He had tits now. Eyes wide, his hands reached to touch them, scarcely able to believe what he'd witnessed. Each hung from his previously flat as a board chest, small but substantial, somewhere comparable to small apples.
He didn't get the chance to touch them before...
Gurgle. Glorp. Womf!
He groaned. Pounds of fleshy cushion in one instant added themselves to all his curviest places. Lower beneath though, towards his hips, bones slid and shifted - widening, pushing.
His boy-kitty ached. It winked, dripping dribs and drops pattering to the shining surface beneath. That was the worst part. On top of being steadily transformed from a semi-respectable nurse, royal maid, and upstanding femmy gentlecolt into a slut-proportioned wobbledoll, it felt good. That infernal buzzing heat flooded into his holes, ass and honeypot alike, putting him straight into the depths of hellish estrus.
Gorgle. Bwomf. Glurpglrr. Womf! Glrrrppeop. Bwwwwwomf!
Biggger, fatter, jigglier, wobblier. Each time his tummy shrank, the rest of him grew. His itty bitty boy titties turned from little mounds into hand-filling globes, then overflowing fruits, then massive mammary melons. Down lower his hips turned broodmare-like, weight enough to crunch metal folding chairs packing itself onto an expanding derriere frame.
He squeezed his eyes shut, nickering, neighing, and mewling between each transforming hit. His nails scratched lines into the wood, bending as his knuckles turned from cute salmony pink to stark bone white. Only once the weight of his belly disappeared, rendered flat as before did he stand, and open his eyes.
He had no mirror to view himself with, but he didn't need one. Looking down was all he required to understand the body he owned now.
A pair of absurdly fatty udders hung more than pushed from his chest, prominent teats big enough he could wrap his hands around them like a milking cow. That was a fitting image tooo, considering the way they sloshed, and the trails of leaky white that drizzled from them in thin, steady twin streams. With his breasts so weighed down they touched his hips, that dairy was free to cling and trickle around the shameful curvature and touch his pillowy thighs.
Whenever he took a step, he rippled. It was as though his entire body had turned into some perverse water balloon, never able to still as even a faint breeze proved all it took to send him a-wobblin'.
His lower half meanwhile stuck out near twice the width of his shoulders. Meanwhile, behind him, he wielded a bodacious boy-butt so boisterously barge-like and bouncy it could be classified as a blunt weapon. And if he wanted to spread his legs and let the thighs breathe?
Well. The only way that'd happen would be when they spread for some packing, horny she-bull.
He should have been horrified. In the remaining part of his rational conscious, he probably was. But with the alterations came a burning lust, flames rising in his womb and asspipe hotter than he'd ever felt in his life.
He needed cock. Now. Who fucking cared if he resembled some broodMILF now instead of a femcolt?
Luckily, Flurry proved eager to oblige. Like he and his tremendous tons of meat weighed no more than a feather, she plucked him up, and threw him onto the bed.
With dim awareness he watched through blurry, half-lidded vision the Crystal Heiress crawl onto the bed. Her maw salivated, dribbling drool from either side of her wolf-fanged grin.
Cock bobbing between her low-hanging tits, it lurched. The flare bloomed, and spat a wad of ropey pre-slop onto his face. Eager for more, eager to grow, he slurped it up and whinnied.
"When I'm done with you, I'm gonna fucking shatter this stupid bed. If you were aware enough I might make a bet with you to see what does it first - my pounding, your cumbelly, or your tits and ass. Either way, I'm turning this room to fucking splinters and shards. Sound good, cocksleeve?"
"Mmnnhhhh. Y-yes, Princess."
She grinned wider, and wrapped a manicured hand 'round his throat, giving it a playful squeeze. "Call me Queen."
And he did, screaming the word as his ponut stretched out impossibly wide for the second time that day.
He couldn't wait to be big.
Author's Note
This story was commissioned by a friend. If you enjoyed it and would like to receive one of your own, see here for more details!
