Jungle Fever

by LewdChapter

Rating: mature
Tags: Rarity, Profanity, Random, Sex, Zebra, Anthology, Anthro, Mrs. Cake, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Other, Silver Spoon, Porn, Fetish
Length: 12080

A collection of lewd interracial stories involving zebra-kind

A collection of lewd interracial stories focused on your favorite Equestrian girls (and boys) learning of the beauty of the zebra race.

This story as a whole contains themes of raceplay and zebra superiority, More specific tags will be listed on a per-chapter basis.

The Old College Try: College-age Silver Spoon, quick hook-ups, facials, and light themes of cheating/infidelity

Queen of the Jungle: Rarity & Octavia, massages, groping, male body admiration, and cunnilingus

Have Your Cake: Mrs. Cake, Pound & Pumpkin, cheating, masturbation, voyuerism

Wanna hang out? Come join my Discord server!

IMPORTANT NOTE: This story is heavily centered around race and the use of racial slurs. This is pure fantasy, written all in good fun and not to be taken seriously. This story's use of slurs against a fictional race of creatures is not meant to make light of, attack or in any way belittle any real-life groups.

If you are made uncomfortable by such themes, or if you see this story as an invitation to spread bigotry towards real people, this is your one warning: This story is not for you

Published 2024-02-15 15:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2025-02-04 12:59:20 UTC

The Old College Try

“Just dump him, duh.”

Silver Spoon frowned, unable to shake the nagging sensation that Diamond Tiara hadn’t really been listening to her. For the past ten or so minutes as she flipped through her phone, she had been carefully explaining the various reasons why, despite her current predicament, she specifically did not want to dump Featherweight. Truthfully, she couldn’t think of a single good reason to go through with it. Featherweight was a nice guy, a perfect gentleman with a romantic streak that a girl like Silver Spoon adored. He was courteous, polite, and provided for her, whether that be paying for their dates or writing her essays for her, or updating her wardrobe in her futile attempt to keep up with her fashion-savvy friend. No, there wasn’t any good reason for her to break things off with him.

That didn’t make it any easier for her to tolerate his violently dull personality.

“So you’re saying that after that whole spiel about how I don’t think I want to dump him, what you took away from that…” Silver Spoon sat up in her bed, eyes darting across the dorm room to Diamond’s. Unsurprisingly, Diamond Tiara was texting, barely even acknowledging that she was being spoken to. “Is that I should dump him?”

“What? You asked me for advice, and my advice is to dump him,” snorted Diamond. “I don’t even know why you started dating him in the first place. He’s, like, so boring.”

“Yeah, but… He’s nice, y’know? Maybe a little… plain,” admitted Spoon. “But I don’t think he deserves to get dumped for it.”

“Whatever. It’s your life, what do I care if you waste it with some loser?” Diamond’s eyes darted up from her phone for just a second, the most concern she was capable of displaying on such short notice. “But if you’re so bored of him, why are you wasting your time with him? These are the best years of our lives, Spoon. Do you really want to spend it going to… What does he even like to do?”

“He’s into… antiques…” Silver Spoon was too embarrassed to look anywhere but her bed spread. “He took me to a yard sale last week…”

“Not trying to yuck anyone’s yum, but that is icky with a capital ICK.”

“Either way, I can’t just dump him. Come on, Di, have a heart, for once. He said I was the first girl to ever go out with him, I don’t wanna be his first heartbreak.”

“Oh my God, I wish I could’ve been there to stop you from getting yourself into this mess… How am I supposed to live knowing my best friend was some loser virgin’s first time?”

“Relax, I’m not. We haven’t done anything like that yet. He’s only kissed me, like, once.” Silver Spoon smoldered, her lip curled up in a sad sort of self-pity. “In, like, eight months…”

“Do you see what I’m talking about? This isn’t good for you, Spoon! You deserve someone who can actually satisfy you, not some dweeb who roots through the trash for old knick-knacks,” said Diamond. “So do yourself a favor and dump him!” She could see Spoon begin to argue, but she managed to head her off at the pass. “And yeah, I know, you ‘can’t just dump him’, congratulations, you’re a saint. But if that’s the case, maybe stop scrolling through Tinder all night.”

“I’m not…” Silver Spoon started to lie, but one leer from Diamond killed all hopes of that working out for her. “Okay, fine… But, like, I’m just talking to these guys. Conversating, y’know? Making friends. Nothing I’d have to dump Featherweight over.”

“Right… Well, any of those ‘friends’ hot?”

“C’mere, I’ll show you some of my matches.” Unable to resist a good “talk about boys” session, Diamond skipped across the dorm and dove onto Silver Spoon’s bed to gossip. No matter how old the two had gotten, it seemed like some things never changed. “Okay, so there’s this earth pony boy, he’s pretty cute.”

“Hm… Oh, no, see, he’s a drama major. That means he’s gay.” Diamond Tiara took the liberty of swiping that particular profile away. “Next! Ooh, what about him? Pretty hunky, for a unicorn.”

“I don’t know… He’s a gemini.”

“Ew. Why is he even here in the first place? In the trash, thanks for coming!” Diamond swiped this profile away as well, then another, and another, before frowning as a new one took its place. “Have you looked at this one yet?”

“Hm? No, this must be new. Zane?” Silver Spoon looked at the screen, eyes going a bit wider at what she saw. Her newest match was a zebra, a tall specimen with a head of curly hair, neatly shaved and styled atop his head. His intensely gold eyes pierced through Silver Spoon’s chest, and his strong core and six-pack abs glistening in the photo sent tingles a bit lower. “Wow. Z-zebra, huh?”

“Oh no, I know that look,” said Diamond, rolling her eyes. “Going from boring loser to jungle boy is a step up, but, like, barely.”

“Di! Come on, you can’t say stuff like that!”

“Their country is literally in a jungle, Spoon. But fine, call the Cancel Cops and have me arrested for knowing geography.”

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you… But, like, he’s pretty cute, right?” said Silver Spoon. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the screen, from the specimen of masculinity before her. “And he goes to Canterlot U… He could be right across campus for all we know!”

“Ugh… Probably some minority scholarship, I don’t know how a zebra would get into this school otherwise,” snorted Diamond. “Either that or, like, basketball.”

“Di! Seriously, that is not okay! You’re gonna—” A bright, chippy bleep came from Spoon’s phone and distracted her from the rest of her lecture; A notification from her dating app, and she gulped as she opened it. “Di, look. It’s the zeeb boy, he says he thinks I’m cute! What should I say?”

“Nothing, unless you’re finally admitting you want to dump the loser you’re dating.” Despite her less than polite delivery, it was hard to argue with the core of Diamond’s message, and Silver Spoon understood that. Even still, she paused, which visibly annoyed Diamond. “Fine, I guess I’ll be a good friend, after all.”

Before Silver Spoon could ask what she meant by that, Diamond snatched her phone out of her hand, and took off. Even though their dorm room was a bit on the smaller side, Diamond’s head start gave her more than space to keep away, even as Silver Spoon leaped up from her bed to pursue. She chased Diamond all the way to the corner, nearly trapping her against the wardrobe if not for Diamond’s speed and agility allowing her to squeeze out in the nick of time. Diamond ran circles around Spoon until, finally, she dove back onto Spoon’s bed and tossed the phone away.

“Diamond, what the hell!” Silver Spoon jumped at her phone, scanning to see what Diamond had done. With each line of text, Spoon’s eyes went wider, and her cheeks flushed brighter. “Di! What did you do?!”

“Uh, I did you a favor?” Again, Diamond could only roll her eyes. “You obviously wanna hook up with the jungle boy, and you’re too chicken to ask him on your own, so I did it for you. He was going to the gym, but he said he’ll be over in like ten minutes. You’re welcome.”

“You told him I’d be his cardio?!” Silver Spoon blushed intensely, burying her face in her pillow. “I’m not that type of girl, Di!”

“Oh, shut up. Honestly, who do you think you’re fooling? As soon as you saw the stripes, the snowbunny alarms started sounding.”

“Snow… bunny?”

“You know, like, one of us who only likes fucking jungle boys. You know the saying: White and black, never going back? They say one night with a jungle boy and you’ll never want to fuck anyone else ever again.”

“D-do people really say that?” Silver Spoon swallowed hard, a bit intimidated by the implications. She calmed herself a bit when she remembered who she was dealing with. This was Diamond Tiara, queen of drama and empress of exaggerations. She was just being extra, as usual. “Hey, how would you know, anyway?”

Diamond withdrew her own phone and, after a bit of searching, handed it off to Silver Spoon. It was equal parts horror and fascination that compelled Silver Spoon to stare at the photos; Dick pic after big, thick, juicy, near-camera-eclipsing zebra dick pic. Some shots, she could see Diamond’s dainty hand around the dark, girthy organ, while in others Spoon could see the corner of her own bed in frame. No doubt about it, these were definitely Diamond’s own photos from her personal adventures.

“You made it sound like you wouldn’t be caught dead with a zebra,” pointed out Silver Spoon, her eyes glued to the screen as she scrolled through what was, hopefully, a preview of what was to come. “Seems like you don’t mind them after all…”

“I meant dating one. Daddy would kill me if I brought one home for Hearth’s Warming.” Diamond rolled her eyes, as if what she was saying was as obvious as the sky being blue. “Fucking them is fine, it’s like using a dildo. Doesn’t mean I’d ever marry it.”

“Oh God… So, like, what do I do?” asked Silver Spoon. “I’ve never done just like a casual hook-up before. Should I find a movie to watch? Or maybe order a pizza or something?”

“You’re not gonna have much room for pizza, if you know what I mean. Outside of that, maybe practice some twerking? I hear that drives the jungle boys crazy for some reason.” There was a knock at the door, three big, thudding raps, which left very little question in Diamond’s mind who it could be. “Oh, well, looks like he’s here. Ready?”

The answer, obviously, was no. Silver Spoon was in no way prepared to see anyone tonight, nevermind a hot guy. Her hair wasn’t styled, her silvery-white locks contained into a ponytail by just a simple pink scrunchie she stole from Diamond. She was in her sleepwear, just a plain black cropped tank top, and similarly plain black shorts that barely made it halfway down the length of her thigh. She had no make-up, no jewelry, no accessories outside of her glasses. She felt supremely underdressed for a date.

As Diamond went for the door, it dawned on Spoon that, while underdressed for a date, she might be wearing the perfect apparel for what Diamond had set up for her.

“Yo.” Zane’s voice was low, deep, smooth as butter and twice as luxurious. That one simple word alone was enough to send Silver Spoon’s knees knocking, and she had to quickly avert her eyes from the zebra’s statuesque figure in order to avoid embarrassing herself. If Zane noticed, he didn’t mention it, instead looking Diamond Tiara up one way and down the other. “I didn’t know you had a roommate.” He winked at Diamond. “I came for your friend, but you’re pretty cute, too”

“Take a picture, jungle boy, it’ll last you longer,” snorted Diamond. “I’m just here to make sure there’s no funny business in my dorm.”

“Kiss your mother with that mouth, girlie?” Zane seemed generally nonplussed by Diamond’s comments, even smirking a bit at her. Diamond just rolled her eyes, gesturing to let Zane in. He blew her a kiss on his way in, slinging his gym bag to the corner of the room. He slowly made his approach, each step making Silver Spoon’s heart thump a bit harder, until he was almost at the bed and smiling down on her timid form. “What’s the matter, baby? You promised me a workout, now you’re getting shy on me?”

“Oh my God…”Silver Spoon finally looked up, her gray cheeks blooming red like a stoplight. “You’re, like, so hot…”

“Heh. You’re looking fine, yourself, Glasses. So… What’re you tryna do?”

“She’s trying to get Striped so she finally breaks up with her loser boyfriend,” interjected Diamond. “Just try to keep it down. Our walls are thin and I don’t want our neighbors thinking I’d sleep with a zebra.”

“You have slept with a zebra,” noted Silver Spoon.

“Still, doesn’t mean I want people to think that.”

“So, like…” Zane whistled, to stop the two friends from bickering and draw attention back to himself. “Do you really just plan to sit here and watch me pipe your friend?”

“Don’t have much of a choice,” said Diamond. “Have to make sure you don’t steal anything when you’re done.”

“Oh, so you’re being racist on purpose? I thought you might’ve just been dumb.” He smiled and, much to Diamond’s annoyance, winked at the privileged princess. “Don’t worry, baby, I don’t get my feelings hurt easily.”

“Good. Now go ahead, pretend I’m not here.” Diamond slipped across the room and back to her bed, getting nice and cozy as she watched Zane make his approach. He stalked Silver Spoon, like a lion to a gazelle, until he was looming over a flustered, frazzled, barely-functioning Silver Spoon. With one hand gently caressing her under the chin, and the other hand powerfully gripping her ass, Zane brought their lips together. “Ugh. The things I do for my friends…”

In a nice change of pace, it was now Silver Spoon who wasn’t listening, as she was too invested in sucking tongue with the attractive stranger she had just met. It was an intense experience, to be kissed so aggressively, by one considered to be so foreign to her. She moaned from the feel of his lips against hers, his powerful presence, his thick fingers groping her backside. It was unlike anything Silver Spoon could’ve imagined in her admittedly limited experience, and this was only the beginning.

Zane pulled away for just long enough to pull Silver Spoon’s tank top over her head, exposing her petite, slender body in all of its beauty. With a similar speed and dexterity, he tugged Silver Spoon’s shorts down to her ankles, before scooping her up and dumping her onto the bed. Silver Spoon let out a little squeak, watching past the frames of her glasses while Zane undid the string to his sweatpants to draw his impressive equipment, and her heart stopped dead in her chest. He was just as big and thick as the zebra in Diamond’s photos, if not more so, and it was equal parts excitement and apprehension that filled Silver Spoon as she shakily spread her legs for her “date”.

“W-wow. That’s… Wow.” Silver Spoon gulped, reaching for the nightstand beside her bed. She rooted around in her drawer for a moment, eventually coming out with a latex condom; Not a horribly small one, but clearly not sufficient for Zane. “My boyfriend left these when we were… Not that it matters…”

“Yeah, I’m not fitting that thing,” laughed Zane. “Put that thing down, Glasses. Trust me. It’ll be worth the risk.”

Silver hesitated, naturally, and looked down to the dark, throbbing monster between Zane’s legs. Could she really take that thing inside of her? With no protection? Would something as flimsy as a few millimeters of latex even matter in the face of a specimen like this? Besides, Diamond’s zebra didn’t have a rubber in the picture, and she was fine! Maybe this was just the way to go about things, where zebras are concerned. Silver Spoon looked back up to Zane and, after just a second to psych herself up, gave him a nod.

In an instant, the very second she felt his fat head split her snug pussy, Silver Spoon understood. She understood what Diamond meant before, she understood the claim that it’d be “worth the risk”, she understood why some Equestrian girls might swear off anything short of zebra masculinity. Just those first few inches were enough to get Silver Spoon moaning, gripping her sheets, huffing and sweating as she imagined more of that sliding into her.

She didn’t need to simply imagine for much longer, because Zane wasted very little time working his hips and gouging a path through Silver Spoon’s tight little pussy. His big, heavy mitts grabbed Silver Spoon by the waist, her hips so narrow that Zane’s hands touched behind her back, and drove her down onto his fat cock like a spike. The fit was so tight, Silver Spoon swore she could feel every bump, every ridge, every vein of Zane's perfect cock pounding against her womb. Her legs twitched with each thrust, and she gripped her sheets for dear life in a fruitless attempt to withstand the shockwaves going through her body.

“M-more…” whimpered Silver, reaching up to grab at Zane’s muscular frame. His focus on the task at hand was resolute, and his conviction didn’t waver. If Silver Spoon wanted more, then Zane was determined to give it to her; To suit these ends, he tossed Silver Spoon over onto her belly, splaying her legs open and immediately returning to her cunt. Now both prone, Zane put all of his weight down onto Silver Spoon as he pounded her, making each stroke feel more heavy and impactful than the last. “Oooh, fuck!”

Two thick, sturdy fingers slipped into Silver’s mouth, gripping her by the maw while the zebra above her drilled her mind to a fine powder. Such strength, such intensity, such raw, animalistic, savagery. It all made sense now. Diamond wasn’t just being insensitive, after all, not entirely. Zebras were just different, and no matter how problematic it was, Silver Spoon didn’t care just then. In that moment, with this hunk of a zebra feeding her his fingers and shattering her pussy into a million pieces, there was only one thing Silver Spoon was concerned with.

“Stuff me with that fat jungle cock!” moaned Silver through a mouthful of digits. “You’re g-gonna make me—”

Just as soon as she gave warning, it happened; With quivering legs and a gushing, spritzing cunt, Silver Spoon came hard around Zane’s cock, the pleasure hitting her like a semi-truck. She moaned, tapping at Zane’s arm for some reprieve, but he didn’t relent just yet. He kept pumping, slamming her through the duration of her orgasm until he was satisfied. Once he was, he slid from Silver’s quivering pussy and once again flipped her over to stroke himself to completion. The zebra grunted with satisfaction, and shot thick, sticky ropes of cum onto Silver Spoon’s face. Each pulse of his cock brought with it a splurt of his seed, much more than Silver would have ever believed possible. It splattered her forehead, her hair, nearly painting over the lenses of her slightly crooked glasses, and dripped down her face and chin in thick, salty globs.

“Whew. Thanks for the workout, Glasses. Lots more fun than the gym,” said Zane. He rolled over, returning his pants to his body. “Uh… You’re not a cuddler, are you?” Silver Spoon didn’t respond with words, exactly. She mainly just sputtered, trying her best not to drown in zebra jizz. “I’ll take that as a no. Well, catch you later, I guess.”

“What, tapping out already?” piped up Diamond. Zane’s eyes darted across the room to her, and he smirked. “And after I sat and waited my turn, too. I thought you jungle boys had more stamina than that.”

“And I thought you pony hoes asked nicely when you wanted something.”

“Think again, jungle boy.”

“Alright, fine then.” Zane hopped up and grinned. “Give me five minutes, I’m gonna grab a drink from the vending machine down the hall. And get ready. I went easy on your friend, 'cause it sounded like her first time with a zebra.”

“As opposed to…?”

“You, being a snowbunny slut. Meet back in five, cool?”

Diamond smoldered, but gave a little nod, and Zane made his way out of the room. She watched him go before turning to check on Silver Spoon. Much to Diamond’s surprise, Silver had sat herself up and grabbed her phone while she was distracted. Before Diamond could ask what was happening, Silver Spoon put the phone to her ear.

“Hey, Featherweight? Yeah. Uh-huh.” Silver Spoon was dazed, more than a bit punch-drunk, but her satisfied smile was ever present. “Listen, I’m just calling to say we’re done. I mean we’re done. I’m breaking up with you. No, I’m not joking. See you never, loser.”

Silver Spoon hung up and tossed her phone to the side before collapsing onto her back. She made a reach for the box of tissues on her night stand and used a good number of sheets to wipe the spunk from her glasses. Once she could see a bit better, she locked eyes with Diamond, who was smirking the smuggest smirk Silver had seen from her in quite some time.

“What?” asked Silver Spoon. Diamond grinned a bit wider and, a bit more playfully than before, she rolled her eyes.

“Aren’t I just the best friend you could ask for?”

Queen of the Jungle

“Octavia! So glad you made it!”

Octavia really, really, really needed this vacation. She was positively knackered, with work causing her no small amount of stress. She hadn’t been on a date in ages, and for just one weekend, she wanted desperately to unwind, forget all of her struggles and just enjoy some time to herself. So, when her old friend Rarity had offered her an all-inclusive weekend at a beautiful tropical resort, a resort that she apparently owned, Octavia dropped everything to accept. However, the closer she got, the stranger things had seemed.

Firstly, the mini-cruise that she took to get to her destination was almost entirely deserted. In fact, aside from the crew and herself, there wasn’t a soul at all on the hours-long voyage. Even stranger, during Octavia’s ride, she did not spy a fellow pony of Equestrian blood; The captain, the waiters, the cleaning staff, all were zebras. Fit, male, very handsome zebras. Nothing wrong with that, just an odd thing that Octavia noticed. A bit on edge, but still, she looked forward to her little vacation. Rarity was a trustworthy, dependable friend, and she had always come through in the past for Octavia. If a relaxing weekend was promised, then Octavia had no reason to expect anything less.

When the ship made anchor, and Octavia disembarked, Rarity was waiting for her. Though always a bit shorter than Octavia (who was admittedly rather tall for a woman), Rarity always projecting enough confidence for the both of them, and nowhere was that more emblematic than in her style of dress; A tight, backless crimson dress hugged her body, with a neckline so deep that it left Rarity just a step or two more covered than a pasty on each breast. Compared to her, Octavia felt a bit frumpy in her much less spectacular slacks and button down.

After a warm greeting with much hugging and cheek kisses, Octavia scooped up her luggage, and Rarity led the way to the hotel portion of the resort, just a short stroll ahead. As they neared it, Octavia looked around, still very confused by the lack of her fellow Equestrian. The few people they did encounter were, again, zebras, in various stages of undress; Some of them where just about presentable, if not for their dress shirts needing buttoning, and others were clad in what could charitably be described as “swimwear”. And even with Octavia doing all she could to avert her eyes and look respectfully, she noticed that every zebra she saw was wearing a name badge somewhere on their person, indicating them as staff.

“Mind if I ask a question?” asked Octavia as they entered the resort hotel. “Where is everyone?”

“Hm? Whatever do you mean, darling?” hummed Rarity curiously.

“Well, if you’re running a resort now, I’d assume you’d need, well. Customers.” Octavia looked about the reception area, just to confirm her previous observations. “But we’re the only ones here, outside of your… staff.”

At that moment, Octavia’s eyes fell on one particular zebra in the corner. Like the other staff members Octavia had glimpsed since arriving, he was tall, broad, toned. Every facet of his appearance oozed power and masculinity, from his bulging pecs to his thick biceps. The raw, sensual, animal attraction was only heightened by his “uniform”; No shoes, no shirt, not even pants. Just a glittering sapphire thong, emphasized by the frankly ludicrous bulge he somehow stuffed into the garment, and a healthy sheen of baby oil. Octavia’s eyes went wide and her cheeks flushed red, and she quickly turned her head in hopes that Rarity hadn’t noticed her staring at one of her employees.

“Oh, I believe you misunderstood when I said I owned a resort,” said Rarity. “It’s not exactly available to the public. In fact, one of my requests to Celestia before I moved in was that no one could even visit the island without my permission.”

“So… Celestia just gave you an entire island?” asked Octavia.Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t resist stealing another glance of that zebra. He was captivating, almost too attractive to be believed. Every time Octavia’s eyes passed over his hunky, beefy form her heart skipped a beat. “And you decided to build a resort on it just for fun?”

“Well, yes and no. She didn't give me an island as much as she, eh… Made it. Just a snap of her fingers and some complicated Latin,” explained Rarity with a grin. “After the princesses retired, they wanted to thank us for our work defending Equestria. Since they were no longer royalty, they felt that they could show a bit of favoritism for once. They gave us each one wish, and my wish was for a tropical island paradise to vacation at.”

“I see. And the staff all being zebras was just a coincidence or…?”

“Oh, that's by design. Honestly, do I even have to explain myself?” Rarity peered around the room, until she saw that zebra that Octavia had been eyeing, and grinned. Octavia looked on in horror, because it was evident that Rarity had noticed her preoccupation with the stud in the thong. “You there! Yes, you sexy thing, you! A moment?”

“Oh my God, Rarity,” hissed Octavia, turning to face away from the approaching zebra. Her cheeks were flush, radiating bright red heat as her heart thumped against her ribs. “W-what are you doing?!”

“Yes, my queen?” he said. His voice was deep, smooth. Velvety, like a bass line. Just those few words were enough to make Octavia’s knees weak. “How many I serve you?”

“Your name, please.”

“Z’umba, son of Z’aria.”

“Lovely. Z’umba, darling, this is my good friend, Octavia. She'll be spending the weekend here with me,” explained Rarity. “She won't come out and say it, but she fancies you quite a bit. She's been undressing you with her eyes since we walked in.”

“Rarity!” Octavia hid her face in her palms, just about ready to die from embarrassment. Z’umba’s smooth, sexy chuckle sent chills down her spine, and Octavia held on tight for fear of disintegrating on the spot.

“Undressing me with your eyes, hm?” he chuckled. “I suppose the uniform does most of the heavy lifting for you.”

“Actually, I'm still a bit worried the uniform might be a bit too conservative…” mused Rarity. She shook her head. “Nevermind that for now. Z’umba, please tell Octavia what you do here.”

“My job is to serve my queen, Mistress Rarity, and see to her needs as well as those of her guests,” reported Z’umba. “Whatever your desire, I am here to fulfill it.”

“See? Isn't this just paradise!” Rarity leaned against Z’umba, her crimson acrylic nails tapping sensually against the zebra’s atlasean abdominals. “A beautiful island resort with all the amenities one could ask for, and a full staff of handsome hunks to wait on me hand and foot. If there really is a heaven, then the angels pray they get to come here when they die.”

“D-don’t you think it's a bit inappropriate?” stammered Octavia. “To be… touching your staff like that, I mean.”

“Z’umba?” said Rarity.

“Yes, my queen?”

“Would you be at all opposed to me grabbing your bulge?”

“Not at all, my queen.” Z’umba didn't flinch as Rarity cupped his package, sensually caressing his mighty bulge with thin, sensual fingers. Octavia watched through her fingers, unable to tear her gaze away from the incredible male specimen before her. “Of course, if Miss Octavia would like to touch, that is also welcome.”

“Oh, that's quite alright! I'm perfectly fine!” Octavia lied through her teeth. It wasn't alright, and she wasn't fine. There was nothing she wanted more than to get her hands all over that striped skin, but she couldn't quite shake the sense that this was impolite, immoral, inappropriate. “I thank you for the offer, but—”

“Now, let's not be rude, Octavia,” purred Rarity. “The man offered, after all. Just one little touch won't hurt.”

“I… I can't just… Oh, blast it. I'm here, aren't I?” Octavia swallowed down her heart and, with a shaky hand, reached forward to grope Z’umba’s spear; It was so warm, so thick. The organ twitched slightly in Octavia’s grasp, almost as if alive. It was an exhilarating sensation to know that the only thing keeping that virile beast separate from her own delicate, feminine form was a thin scrap of blue cloth. “Oh my… You're quite… Oh dear.”

“Thank you, ma'am,” said Z’umba, smiling as Octavia turned to goo before his very eyes. “You're very kind.”

“Good girl. Unfortunately, we're a bit overdue for our first activity,” said Rarity. “You and I have a date with the masseuse and bottomless daiquiri bar.”

“Well, I do love a good daiquiri…” mused Octavia. She blinked and, after a moment to realize she was still fondling this perfect stranger, she snatched her hand away. “A m-masseuse, you say?”

“Darling, this place has everything. I could have someone do your taxes for you if you wanted. But for now, Z’umba? Please take Octavia’s bags to her room.”

“Yes, my queen.” Z’umba grabbed up all of Octavia’s travel bags in one hand. “The Master Suite, yes?”

“That is correct. Oh, and one more thing?” Rarity beckoned for Z’umba, who stopped down so that his mistress could whisper in his ear. After a few hushed sentences and glances to Octavia, he nodded in understanding. “Got that?”

“Of course. If you need anything at all, my queen, I will be available. For now, I should get these bags to Miss Octavia’s room now.”

“Hate to see you go, Z’umba,” sighed Rarity. She waved as the zebra turned for the door, and she grinned greedily with her eyes glued to his firm, sculpted backside. “But God in heaven, do I love watching you leave…”

“You're a pervert,” said Octavia finally. “You could have wished for anything on the planet and you chose… this. That's the only explanation, you're a pervert!”

“Octavia, darling, I am pushing 50. No husband, no boyfriend, not even a long-term booty call,” said Rarity with a smirk. “I think I've earned the right to be a pervert, and if God herself wants to descend from the heavens and offer me an island of studs to keep me company, then you had better believe I'm taking it.”

“Fair enough.” Octavia paused for a moment. “Hang on a second, you are not ‘pushing 50’! You're, what? 43, at most?”

“Oh, just go and spoil my drama, why don't you? Come along, Octavia. I can feel your tension, and you're really going to want that massage.”

After the brief process of checking in, Rarity led the way throughout the island grounds, extolling the various amenities of her resort as she did. Each additional activity and benefit only served to appeal to Octavia more, so much so that she was beginning to get quite excited for the weekend. From how Rarity explained things, there was everything she could possibly want. A bit spoiled for choice, Octavia was ultimately glad when Rarity funneled her to the bar for the daiquiri she had promised, and the two sipped their drinks and chatted all the way to the massage parlour.

“Here we are!” Rarity gestured with her drink to the canopy on the sand before them. Beneath the canopy was a series of eight or so massage tables, each with their own cart on which to place drinks and snacks. To the right of the tables was a partition, fully shaded for privacy in undressing, and waiting there were two zebras. Slightly more dressed than Z’ambu in the hotel, these two wearing violet speedos and sandals, they were entirely indistinguishable from one another save for one having their hair tied up, and the other letting his ebony and ivory locks dance down to his shoulders. “Ah, my boys. Very good to see you. This is Octavia.”

“Hello, ma’am,” said the zebra with the tied-up hair. “I am Zanzu, son of Zitara.”

“And I am Zanza, son of Zitara,” said the other. “We will be administering your massages today.”

“If you would kindly undress and lay on the table, we can begin.”

“Undress?” Octavia glanced to Rarity, more than a bit nervous at the idea of getting nude in front of two perfect strangers.

“Oh, relax. There’s towels behind the partition.” Rarity grabbed Octavia by the wrist and led her behind the partition. At her instruction, Octavia began to undress, while Rarity did much the same. “Sorry, boys, she’s a bit nervous. I know I normally give you a show, but poor girl needs me to hold her hand.”

“Hilarious. You’re very funny,” grumbled Octavia, finally peeling off the last of her clothes. There were two towels for each of them, hanging on a hook on the partition. Octavia wrapped one around her torso, and held onto the other one as Rarity directed her to the massage tables. Rarity, in stark contrast to Octavia, seemed to treat the towel more as a formality, and she dropped it almost immediately in order to lay face down on the nearest table. “My, you’re comfortable…”

“I’m the queen of this island, darling. Of course I’m comfortable!” laughed Rarity. “Would you boys mind turning around so she’ll finally get on the table?”

Octavia waited until she was certain that Zanzu and Zanza had averted their eyes, and only then did she remove her towel and clamber onto the massage table right beside Rarity’s. She tossed the extra towel over her bottom, and tried her best to get comfortable. Or, rather, as comfortable as she could manage, given the situation; Though her brief conversation with the brothers gave no indication that they were anything but friendly, gentle men, Octavia was still a bit anxious about this powerful, muscular stranger laying his big, strong hands on her dainty body. She could just imagine his strength, his thick fingers vigorously molesting her delicate body, his great palms gripping her with all of his might and leaving Octavia with no hope to escape his sensual power.

It occurred to Octavia, as she rubbed her thighs together in a futile attempt to quell the lustful fire between her legs, that perhaps “anxious” was the wrong word to use in this situation.

“If, at any point, I apply too much pressure for your comfort, please let me know,” said Zanzu. His voice wasn't quite as deep as Z’umba, not quite as smooth and seductive, but it sent tingles down Octavia’s spine nevertheless. “I’m going to start at your shoulder area. This oil is made from a special blend of herbs that only grow in Zebrica. It’s going to be a bit warm at first, but it should help you relax a bit. Are you ready for me to begin?”

“Y-yes. Fire away,” murmured Octavia. With her head in the face hole of the table, she couldn’t anticipate Zanzu’s touch, and she nearly jumped out of her skin when his hands made contact with her skin. His fingers were slick with the oil he mentioned, and Octavia had to stifle a satisfied whine as his digits worked her tense, aching shoulders. True to his word, the oil had a warming sensation, and the heat seemed to grow with the increasing pressure of Zanzu’s ministrations. “Bloody hell, that’s nice…”

“Told you,” sighed Rarity. Octavia couldn’t see much, but if she cocked her head a bit to the left, she could just barely make out Rarity receiving a message of her own just beside her. Unlike Octavia, who utilized her spa towel to preserve some degree of decency, Rarity was entirely nude for her massage. “Zanzu and Zanza were the two best masseuses in Zebrica.”

“I’m better, of course,” remarked Zanza. “Always have been.”

“Better at chasing off clients, maybe,” shot Zanzu. “The little brother has a big mouth. How does that work out?”

“You’re just jealous because Mistress Rarity requested me today.”

“Boys, boys, please. I assure you, there’s enough of me for you both to rub.” There was an almost wholesome glee to Rarity’s voice, who was clearly ecstatic to have two handsome men fighting over her. “Speaking of which, I believe my shoulders are all done for now. Why don’t you bring those big, strong hands of yours lower?”

“As you wish, my queen.”

“You know, masseuse is actually the feminine version,” said Octavia. She went nearly limp under Zanzu’s masterful movements. His dexterous fingers, combined with the mystical foreign oil, soothed Octavia’s muscles, and undid knots she didn’t even realize she had. He caressed her shoulder blades, moving up and down the length of her back with a strong, even pressure that made Octavia want to just melt away beneath his fingertips. “The male equivalent is ‘masseur’, but truthfully, I believe the preferred nomenclature is massage therap—EEP!”

Zanzu’s hands brushed Octavia’s hips, his thumbs just barely grazing her ass before darting back up to the small of her back. Whether it be due to the oil, or Zanzu’s strong grip, or perhaps just the fact that Octavia was very much so on edge, that brief, gentle touch set off alarm bells for Octavia. Just as quickly as it had started, it was over, and Octavia was incredibly glad to know that no one could properly see just how much she blushed.

“Is everything okay, ma'am?” asked Zanzu. “Did I go too low for your comfort?”

“N-no, no. Just took me by surprise, is all,” said Octavia. “Please, continue. That felt quite nice.” There was a snicker from the neighboring table, and Octavia popped her head up to glare at Rarity. “Oi! What's so funny?”

“You get to ask a stranger to keep groping your ass and yet I’m the pervert?” snickered Rarity. “At least I actually know the twins. You've only just met them.”

“Are you taking the piss? Asking for a massage therapist to continue with the massage is not even in the same universe as what you do.”

“Hm. I suppose not. What I do is much more fun,” said Rarity with a grin. She wiggled her hips, gently shaking her soft, cushy posterior. “Zanza, darling, if you don't mind? And be generous with the oil, my derriere just soaks it up.”

“Of course, my queen.”

Octavia watched for a moment as Zanza poured nearly a full glass vial of oil all along the surface of Rarity’s ass and proceeded to work it into her soft skin. His fingers gripped Rarity’s cheeks, squeezing them firmly before releasing and letting them bounce slightly in reaction to his hands. The way she whined and whimpered, her breath catching in her chest and coming out in slightly strained puffs, soon became too much for Octavia to ignore.

“Erm… if it's not a bother,” said Octavia quietly. “Zanzu, would you kindly… go a bit lower. Like your brother is for Rarity.”

“Of course, ma'am,” said Zanzu with a nod. “And if I'm too rough with you—”

“Oh, she's not made of glass, Zanzu,” breathed Rarity. “Knead her cheeks like you're making fresh bread.”

“M-maybe not quite that haaaahhhhh…”

Octavia’s sentence fell apart into a breathy sigh upon Zanzu firmly grabbing her rear beneath the towel, and running his hands along the curve of her ass. Though not quite as voluptuous as her friend besides her, Octavia still had more than a fair amount of cushion, and Zanzu seemed intent on working every last inch of it. His practiced hands played Octavia like a grand piano, and she might have been embarrassed by the little noises she made if she wasn't distracted by how damn good it felt. And yet, throughout it all, Octavia wasn't thinking about her mewls and whines, not of what Rarity might think, not even of Zanzu himself. Instead, her mind was occupied by thoughts of Z’umba, and his unparalleled sexual energy. Zanzu was lovely, of course, and she was thankful to have such an excellent massage therapist, but just the thought of Z’umba playing her like a harp was almost enough to drive Octavia crazy.

After her backside, Zanzu made quick work of Octavia’s legs; His fingers worked along the length of her thighs, all the way to her calves, and finally her feet. Each of his movements undid hours of stress that Octavia had unknowingly been carrying with her all this time. By the time the massage was finished, Octavia felt like she was floating, weightless. Not a care in the world, save for the blazing desire between her legs.

“Bloody hell,” moaned Octavia. “Bloody… hell…”

“He's good, isn't he?” giggled Rarity. She sat up and, almost as an afterthought, covered her breasts with her arm. “My robe, Zanza. If you don't mind terribly.”

“Of course, my queen.”

Just as Zanza produced a luxuriously comfortable silk robe for Rarity, so too did Zanzu offer a matching one to Octavia. He went to turn away, as he did before, but the massage seemed to relax Octavia enough for her to sit up on the table and dress herself right before their eyes. Rarity noticed, and gave Octavia an annoyingly knowing little nod, which was likely to grate on Octavia were she not currently on cloud nine.

“Do you accept tips?” asked Octavia. “Hands down, best massage I've ever had.”

“That's not necessary, ma'am,” Zanzu assured her. “Mistress pays us very well.”

“And you lot earn every last cent,” remarked Rarity. “Although, Octavia, I'm sure he wouldn't mind giving you a tip. Or more, if you ask nicely.”

“Oh, stuff it.” Octavia rolled her eyes. “So. What's next?”

“I’m a bit peckish, personally. Dinner?” Rarity grinned when Octavia nodded. “Excellent. The dining room should be ready for us.” She turned to the twins, inspecting one then the other very carefully. “Hm… Boys, I think I'd like for you to wait on me for the rest of the evening.”

“Of course, my queen.”

“It would be our pleasure, my queen.”

“You know, you'd think that would get old after a while,” sighed Rarity wistfully. “And you'd be dead wrong.”

“Crimey… Let's get you to dinner,” sighed Octavia “Before you sink your teeth into your staff.”

“Wouldn't be the first time. And trust me, they won't mind.”

After a wonderful time exploring the hotel, after the sun had set and Rarity had flirted with no fewer than six more of her employees, it was about time to turn in for the night. The room where she’d be staying, Rarity assured Octavia, was of the utmost luxury and beauty, with a full mini-bar, a television with every channel and streaming service known to man, and a line to the 24-hour kitchen in case she desired a late night snack. It was exactly the sort of pampering that Octavia needed, and despite the fun she had with her friend, all she wanted in that moment was to collapse into bed.

“Wakeup call is at 8AM,” said Rarity. She sat atop the twin’s wide, muscular shoulders, using their flesh as her incredibly sexy mobile throne. “Breakfast at 9. There's still plenty to do on the island, so I imagine we can work out the rest of our itinerary from there, yes?”

“Sounds good to me,” said Octavia with a nod. “Goodnight, Rarity. Have a good night's rest.”

“Oh, I don't plan to sleep just yet. You.” She pointed beneath her to Zanzu. “I want you to eat me like a ripe mango, and I want you.” She pointed to Zanza. “To fuck my face like a cheap whore. You can switch when you get tired.”

“Dropping all pretenses, hm?” said Octavia with a shake of the head. “Oh well. Have fun, I suppose.”

“Wait, Octavia. Some advice, before you ‘turn in’ for the night.” Rarity descended from her improvised throne, and closed the gap between her and her friend just before Octavia’s hand reached her door handle. “Just relax. Don't tense up. Take your hands off the wheel. It'll seem as though it won't fit. It will.”

“What does that mean?” asked Octavia. Instead of an answer, all she got from Rarity was a scarlet grin. Again, Octavia shook her head, and reached for the door. “Good night, Rarity.”

“And to you, Octavia. Now come along, boys, your queen is ready to relax!”

Without another word to her friend, Octavia pulled open the door to her room and stepped inside. She was still walking on air from her massage, and her plan was to slide into bed and relax. Perhaps have a glass of wine and, if things got heated enough, slide a hand between her thighs to the thought of that man, that incredible hunk of a zebra Z’umba. As she stepped past the threshold, somewhat distracted by her own dirty thoughts, she realized that fantasizing probably wouldn't be necessary. Standing in front of her bed, somehow even more perfect and statuesque than she remembered, was Z’umba himself, wearing nothing but that sparkly thong and a flirtatious smirk.

All of a sudden, Rarity’s advice made a lot more sense.

“Hello,” said Z’umba with a smile. “I had your bags unpacked, and I ran a bath for you, if you’d like.”

“I’m going to kill her,” said Octavia, frozen like a deer in headlights. “I mean it, I’m going to strangle her!”

“I agree she probably should’ve warned you, but Mistress Rarity insisted it be a surprise.” Z’umba stepped to the side, gesturing to the bed. “That said, all I was told was to wait for you and offer you my company. If you’d rather spend your evening alone, I won’t take any offense.”

“Wait!” Octavia reached for Z’umba with a bit more desperation than she was entirely comfortable with displaying, but she couldn’t help herself. She grabbed him around the arm, an indescribably electric charge sparking between them when Octavia touched his bicep. Her heart skipped a beat, but she kept her grip of the zebra’s firmly muscled limb nonetheless. “You’ve been waiting for me all day. I’d hate for it to be for nothing. I was planning to order some wine, perhaps you’d join me?”

“But of course. Although, placing an order won’t be necessary.” Z’umba crossed the room, Octavia still hanging onto his arm, and he flipped a switch on the wall. Rather than turning out the lights, a panel in the wall popped out and slid up on sleek, chrome mechanical arms. In the space that the wall previously covered sat a rack containing several bottles of wine, with a similar rack of wine glasses sliding out just above it. “Are we in a red or white mood tonight, ma’am?”

“Red, please.” Ever a lover of wine, Octavia was finding it harder and harder to deny Rarity’s claims of her resort being paradise with each passing moment. She needn’t wait long for Z’umba to select a vintage, pop open the bottle of cabernet, and pour out a glass for Octavia and himself. Once Octavia had her wine, Z’umba led her to the bed, where the two sat and shared a toast. “Thank you, you’re very kind.”

“I live to serve.” Z’umba cracked a smile, and Octavia did her best to return it before taking a healthy sip of wine. “Would it help to talk about it?”

“Hm?” Octavia cleared her throat, as if she didn’t know precisely what Z’umba was talking about. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“I understand being a bit nervous. I gather that Mistress Rarity didn’t tell you the particulars about the resort?” said Z’umba. Octavia nodded. “This must be quite the shock. Well, Miss Octavia, I just want it to be clear that, despite the uniform, Mistress only employs gentlemen here. I only wish to go as far as you’re comfortable with.”

“See, that’s just the thing. You’re wonderful. Quite possibly the sexiest thing I have ever seen,” said Octavia. “But when Rarity invited me for the weekend, I was expecting mud masks and wine tastings, not scantily-clad manservants offering sexual encounters.”

“Of course. And if you don’t want—”

“It has been six months since I last had sex, Z’umba. I have been working like a dog. I’m a bloody volcano right now, as far as tension goes.” Octavia gulped down her wine and dropped the glass onto the bed. “So, yes. I think I do want. I think I just need you to… make the first move.”

“Oh, Miss Octavia. That’s all you needed to say.”

Just like that, before Octavia knew what was happening, they were kissing. Strong hands gripped her face, and Octavia melted at their touch. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she couldn’t help but reach forward and place her palms on the broad, muscular striped chest of the man who had unknowingly wound her around his finger from the first moment they locked eyes.

Z’umba pulled away slowly, leaving Octavia whining and wanting for more. Thankfully, more was on the cards, as Z’umba wasn't so much retreating as he was redeploying; With a strong hand, he pushed Octavia’s shoulder to the mattress and slid down the length of her soft, supple body. He undid the string keeping Octavia’s robe intact and peeled her legs apart, laying down a line of kisses all along her inner thigh. Octavia’s breathing quickened, going from long, steady inhales to sharper and shallower attempts to suck in air the higher up Z’umba’s lips went. He was teasing her, and while Octavia could appreciate the foreplay, she needed more of this exotic beauty, and she needed it now.

When Z’umba finally brought his lips to her pussy, it was as though the world stopped spinning. Nothing else mattered in that moment. Nothing but Z’umba’s firm lips against her vulva, the way his tongue slithered out to tend to her wanting body. Octavia grasped the sheets, her head thrown back as she struggled to breathe at all, nevermind make a sound; She was paralyzed by pleasure. It had been so long, and the weight of the world had been bearing down on Octavia all this time, it was a wonder that she didn't blow her top immediately.

But she didn't. She was able to enjoy herself, take in the wonderfully electric tingling of Z’umba’s tongue dancing on her clit. It was magic, plain and simple, and the best evidence thus far as to why Rarity had decided to hire such particular help. Z’umba wasn't just eating her out, he was devouring her, savoring her every drop and diving back in for more. He grabbed her by the thighs, holding Octavia in place as he attacked her gushing nethers with a skilled, expert tongue. All of the stress, all of the worries, every responsibility and obligation just melted away with each flick of the tongue. Her body quivered, her toes curled, and she nearly tore the sheets off of her bed when, finally, she came.

Octavia tried not to scream, to maintain some degree of composure, but she was wholly unsuccessful. She could hear her own voice bouncing off the walls, and we're her brain not muddled such that she struggled to string together a coherent thought, Octavia would probably be embarrassed by what she heard. Desperate howls and pitiful whines. Animalistic grunts and blasphemous exclamations. And throughout it all, interspersed with her moans and swears, was one word. A name.

“Z’umba… Oh, flippin’ hell, Z’umba,” she breathed. “You…I'm… Celestia’s thong, Z’umba, where’d ya learn to do that?”

“In Zebrica, we take our women's pleasure very seriously,” explained Z’umba with a smirk. “As a man, you aren't considered to have truly lost your virginity until you have pleasured a woman with your mouth alone.”

“Sounds like my kind of country.” Oxtavia breathed heavily, one arm over her face as she caught her breath. “Nobody’s ever ate my muff like that before. Fuck me running, I needed that…”

“Heh. You’re a lot more… colorful than you let on.”

“Sorry. Sort of just slips out in times like these. Although, can’t recall ever having a time quite like that…”

“I’m happy to be of service, Miss Octavia,” said Z’umba. “If you desire more servicing…”

“Oh, most definitely. But, first, if it’s not inappropriate for me to ask…” Octavia slowly sat herself up, fanning her sticky, sweaty body with her hand. “Mind leaving your phone number for me?”

“I certainly don’t, but Mistress Rarity has already had me added to your ‘rider’, for want of a better word. Whenever you visit the resort, I will be here to answer your beck and call.”

“Always planning ahead, that Rarity… Still, I’d like that number, if you don’t mind,” said Octavia. “I’d like to introduce you to my wife.”

For just a second, Z’umba paused, taken off guard for the first time since meeting Octavia. Then, he smiled, and gave an earnest nod.

“I’d love to, ma’am. She sounds lovely.”

Have Your Cake

“Scooch over, will ya?”

Pound Cake looked up from his phone, a bit annoyed but not altogether surprised to his sister standing beside his bed. Being twins, they had always shared pretty much everything, from toys to food to their room, and sometimes even a bed. Some people found his relationship with his sister a bit odd, and Pound tended to agree, but there was just something special about the bond between twins. They could practically read each other's minds, so being a bit close and open with each other wasn't as crazy to them as it seemed to outside onlookers.

Pound still wished that his sister would stop prancing about their room in just panties and a big t-shirt. Even he had to admit that was just a bit weird.

“Uh… Is there something wrong with your bed?” Even as he resisted, Pound did as was requested and shimmied over to make room for his sister. Like clockwork, Pumpkin flopped onto the mattress beside her brother, curiously holding a small bundled towel close to her body. “Do I even want to know what that is?”

“I spilled my skin cream all over my sheets like an idiot. Had to throw them in the wash,” said Pumpkin, answering the first question while entirely ignoring the second. “They won't be dry for ages, so I figured we could share tonight. Just like the good ol’ days, right?”

“Right…” Naturally a skeptic, particularly where his sister was concerned, Pound had his doubts. He kept them to himself, at least for the time being. “Just keep your legs over on your half, okay? You always kick me when we share a bed.”

“Cross my heart and hope to fly. Thanks a lot, little bro.”

“Three minutes. You're older by three minutes.”

“And I am never gonna let you forget it!” The two shared a little chuckle before a peaceful little silence descended upon them both. Never one for peace and quiet, Pumpkin didn't take long to fill the dead air. “You see Auntie Pinkie lately?”

“I think she's visiting her sisters down south,” said Pound with a shrug. “Hope she gets back before we go back to Uni. Haven't seen her in ages.”

“Yeah, same. With her away and Dad still out, feels like we've only got half of Sugarcube Corner.” Pumpkin paused for just a second, and then, her tone shifted. Pound was familiar with this. It was the energy Pumpkin took on when she was up to no good. “Speaking of the business… Mom closed early tonight, didn't she?”

“Yeah. It was pretty dead, and she said she was meeting with someone about maybe collabing.” Pound narrowed his gaze at his sister. “What about it?”

“Yeah, I think I saw who she was meeting with. Some zebra dude, I saw him on my way in.” Pumpkin’s lips spread into an impish grin. “He's pretty hot.”

“And here we go…”

“What, I'm just saying! If I was gonna risk it all for some tall, dark and handsome, it'd probably be for someone like him.”

“Someone with stripes, you mean.”

“Well, duh. You know I have a thing for zeebs. Speaking of…” Pumpkin grabbed her bundled towel and unrolled it. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was a dildo that rolled out and fell onto the bed. Made of thick, dark rubber, the color and shade made it obvious that the toy was modelled after a zebra, rather than an Equestrian man. “Do you mind? I'm, like, so wound up from finals, haven't had time to blow off steam.”

“You want to fap in my bed? What is wrong with you?”

“If you saw the guy that Mom is ‘meeting’ with, you'd probably wanna do the same.”

“Uh, no?” said Pound, rolling his eyes. His sister did love to tease him, so he was mostly used to this sort of thing. “I'm not gay, dummy.”

“Pfft. Okay, little bro. Whatever you say.” Pumpkin held up her big, floppy zebra dildo and wiggled it in her brother's general direction. “I'll clean up my mess after. Hell, I'll do a whole load of laundry for you. So can I go ahead or are you gonna be weird about it?”

“I don't get how I'm being weird, but… fine. Just… keep it quiet.”

“Thanks, little bro!”

It didn't take long for Pumpkin to roll her panties down to her ankles and plunge her toy deep into her virgin folds, much to Pound’s general discomfort. Truth was, this wasn't too odd for them, either. Pumpkin was a free spirit, something she picked up from growing up around her Auntie Pinkie. She never had much concern for privacy or decency, and Pound had seen much more of his sister than the average brother because of it. He never went out of his way to see her naked, but it was generally pointless to make a fuss whenever Pumpkin would exit the shower without a towel, or spend a little private time with her vibrators. Just something Pound had gotten used to over the years.

“So, you think Dad knows?” asked Pumpkin. Pound cocked a brow, confused by the question. “That he’s a cuck, I mean. That Mom is getting some zebra dick on the side.”

“Can you knock it off?” Pound rolled his eyes. “How can you say stuff like that? That's our mom you're talking about.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault that you subscribe to society’s puritan views on sex. Sex is nothing to be ashamed of, and there’s nothing weird or wrong about talking about it.” Pumpkin bit her lip to stifle a moan as her toy reached particularly deep. Her brother could feel the heat and lust wafting from her, and he did all he could to ignore it. Pumpkin was unfortunately making that quite difficult. “But seriously, think he knows?”

“Pump, we don’t know. Y’know why we don’t know? Cause there’s nothing to know!”

“I’ll tell you what we know. We know that Mom’s here, and that Dad isn’t,” said Pumpkin. She stuffed her toy about as deep as it would go, and sat herself up on her elbows to properly look at her brother. “We know that she’s talking to that hot jungleboy, and—”

“Whoa, dude, I don’t think you can say that,” said Pound. “Isn’t that, like, offensive?”

“I’ve asked a couple, and they all said they’re cool with it. Besides, the zebras are going to be ruling the world in like ten years anyway. When that time comes, they’ll tell us what not to say. But, whatever, the point is, I didn’t hear his car leave,” said Pumpkin. “It’s, like, 11:30 at night. What, you think they’re in there trading recipes?”

“Uh, seeing as that’s exactly what they said they’re doing, I’m gonna say… yeah?”

“Geez, my little brother is such a doofus. The only way they’re baking is if he gives her a creampie, if you know what I mean.” Pumpkin fell back onto her back, pumping her cunt with her plastic zebra cock. “I hope so, anyway. Can you just imagine Mom with a zebra baby? That’d be so hot.”

“Dude, you’re being so weird about this. Just… Chill, okay? Mom is not cheating on Dad, no matter how much you seem to want her to be. Freak.”

“I hope he doesn’t know. I wanna be there when he finds out,” sighed Pumpkin. “Think he’d cry? I bet he’d cry. God, Mom is so fucking lucky!”

“Y’know what?” Pound swung his legs out of bed, turning away from his sister completely. “I’m gonna go see if Rumble still wants to hang. Don’t wait up, and you’d better clean my sheets in the morning or—”

Moans floated to Pound’s ears, and, much to his dismay, they weren’t coming from behind him. Instead, the sound seemed to be coming from just ahead, on the other side of the wall that separated his room from his mother’s. He froze, hoping, begging, praying to God that there was another explanation for what he heard, but one never presented itself to him. What he got instead were barely-stifled moans, low grunts of exertion, and the creaking of his mother’s bed as it buckled and bumped against the wall.

“Hm… Pretty sure that’s not Dad,” said Pumpkin with a smirk. “Still saying we don’t know anything?”

“M-maybe he left. Maybe she’s, like… You know.” Pound cleared his throat awkwardly. “Like, just by herself.”

“Bro, just face facts. The sooner you accept the fact that Mom is a cheating snowbunny slut, the better. Here, look at it this way, there’s two possibilities. Either Dad knows that Mom is getting her guts rearranged by a better man, and he’s sticking with her, or he has no clue. Either way, sounds like everyone’s happy.”

“That's awful. You're awful.” Pound paused, straining his ears in spite of himself. Pumpkin was wrong, he just knew it. “What is your obsession with zebras, anyway? It feels kinda racist.”

“Dude. Dude? Dude.” Pumpkin giggled. “They’re better. It's just the truth. If you could just see one in action, then…”

Pumpkin stopped, as though a lightbulb had gone off. She dropped her dildo and leaped out of Pound’s bed, rushing quickly to her own. But, before Pound could get too comfortable in his own bed, Pumpkin returned with her cellphone in tow, and a devious grin on her face. She slid right back into position, even a bit closer than before, and shoved the screen in her brother's face.

“Um…” Pound arched his brow, thoroughly confused by his sister's antics. “What?”

“Think Mom still has that nanny cam in her room? It won't have sound, but…” Pumpkin maneuvered through her apps, letting out a triumphant little shout when she managed to recall the password for the video app. “It’s loading now. C’mon, let’s watch together. It’ll be fun.”

Pound didn’t really want to see what was going on in his mother’s room, but he knew his sister very well. There wasn’t a chance in hell that Pumpkin was going to let this go. So, as was often the case, the easier solution was to just appease her, and go along with her madness. Begrudgingly, Pound slid up a bit closer to his sister, and leaned in to get a view of the cam footage.

Hopefully, whatever they saw—if anything at all—would be over before long.

“S-slow down! My kids are home!”

As well-intentioned as her request was, the unfortunate truth was that Mrs. Cake didn't mean it in the slightest. She didn't want Zuki to slow down. She wouldn't be able to handle it if he slowed down. It was shameful, but Mrs. Cake couldn't recall ever feeling pleasure so intense, so addicting, so animalistic and primal. It was wrong. She knew it. If her husband knew, it would surely break his heart.

Strong, striped hands held her ankles open in a wide V-shape, while the absolute specimen of pure masculinity gave the poor, overworked woman what she had been craving for so long. Deep, intense thrusts sent lances of electric pleasure through Mrs. Cake’s core. Despite being a thick, soft, cushioned woman, each thrust shook Mrs. Cake’s entire body, almost too strong. She could feel her lover all the way in her stomach, damn near busting a hole through her chest. It almost hurt.

But Mrs. Cake’s lustful moans removed any and all doubt as to how good it really felt.

“You want me to slow down?” whispered Zuki, not doing anything of the sort as he asked. “You want slow, then call your limp dick husband. Is that what you w—”

“No!” It came out a bit more quickly and desperately than Mrs. Cake intended, but she couldn't help it. Just the thought of this beautiful zebra cock leaving her was a nightmare. She loved Carrot to death, obviously, but there was just no comparing to striped, Zebrican perfection. “Please, Zuki, please…”

“Please what?” Zuki held Mrs. Cake steady, positively stuffing her guts and entirely scrambling her brains. Her hair was a mess, and sweat clung to her plump, velveteen body. Her eyes were half-lidded, struggling to focus on anything. It took a firm, but gentle, swat to the face to snap Mrs. Cake back to her senses. “I said ‘please what'?”

With a flurry of life and energy, Mrs. Cake shot forward and wrapped her arms around the back of Zuki’s neck. With what felt like the last of her strength, she pulled him in close. She looked him in the eye with sudden clarity and purpose, and she held him so close that their noses touched. It wasn't love that flared between the two, but rather, a fiery, savage animal attraction the likes of which Mrs. Cake had never felt in her life. She didn't want this, she needed this.

“Please, you big sexy beast,” she breathed. Mrs. Cake latched her lips onto Zuki’s, anything to get a taste of the man that made her feel better than any man before. When they broke apart, connected by a sloppy strand of saliva, there was an unmatched passion in the married woman's eyes. “Please… Get me fucking pregnant…”

Zuki didn't need a word more of encouragement. With all of his weight and strength, he pressed Mrs. Cake forward, effectively folding her in half. He loomed over her, terrifying and enticing all at once, and with nowhere to go, no way to escape, Mrs. Cake could only take the pounding she was given.

Any concerns about being heard seemed to be gone from Mrs. Cake’s mind; Her moans and squeals bounced off the walls, intercut with loud, wet, fleshy plaps and slaps from Zuki slamming into Mrs. Cake's meaty ass and thighs. The air was so hot and heavy, so thick she could barely even breathe, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered just then, nothing but the big, fat cock that was making her cum.

And cum, she did. It hit like a load of bricks, so intense that Mrs. Cake nearly passed out. Instead, she grit her teeth, grabbed a tight hold of Zuki, and squealed through her clenched jaw as wave after wave after incredible, impossible wave of pleasure crashed onto her like the tide against the shore. He didn't stop, didn't pause, didn't even slow down. He just kept drilling her, slamming her married cunt, claiming her promised pussy all for himself.

It wasn't until he made Mrs. Cake cum again did Zuki reach his limit; With renewed vigor, he pressed the married woman down even further, and he slammed every last inch of his cock into Mrs. Cake’s hungry, desperate, cheating pussy. He bottomed out as he finally came, shooting thick, stringy ropes of the most sticky cum in long, powerful bursts. Each pulse from Zuki’s heavy nuts felt like a sandblaster filling her womb, claiming yet another fine Equestrian pussy in the name of Zebrica. After filling Mrs. Cake to the brim—she would swear she'd gained five pounds from all of the spunk—Zuki peeled his sweaty, sticky, muscular body from Mrs. Cake and sat at the foot of the bed with a smirk.

“Liked it?” he asked, very much so rhetorically. Mrs. Cake wasn't ready for words yet, and only managed a shaky, unintelligible mumble. Good enough for Zuki. “How long til your husband gets back?”

“M-morning. His train gets in… at 5…” wheezed Mrs. Cake. “Can't stay… He might be early…”

“That's fine. Probably a bad idea to stay anyway.” Zuki looked back and admired his handiwork. A satisfied woman, filled to bursting with his seed. What more could a zebra want? “Is tomorrow the day?”

“No… I can't… not while the kids are over…”

“He's gonna find out eventually. You love him?”

“Of course.”

“Then you better tell him before he finds out on his own. Trust me, it'll be better coming from you than if he sees what I do to you when he's away.” Zuki stood up and stretched, cracking his neck as he pulled in his jeans and shirt. “Got anything to drink?”

“Carrot keeps beer in the fridge. Bottom shelf. Help yourself…”

“Thanks. See you next time.” Zuki made for the door, stopping with one hand in the knob. “Hey. That daughter of yours. How old is she?”

“Her and her brother turned nineteen last week.” Mrs. Cake propped herself up on her elbows, still not entirely certain what planet she was on. “Why?”

Zuki smirked, opening the door and stepping out into the fresh air.

“No reason.”

“Holy shit, dude.”

Pound didn't say anything. How could he, after what he had just witnessed? Everything that Pumpkin had said was true. Their loving, caring mother, the matriarch of their wholesome family business, was a cheating, race-traitor harlot. A cheating snowbunny slut, just as Pumpkin had predicted. But how? How could she do this to their dad? He turned to his sister, where she would certainly be as shocked and horrified as he was.

Instead, he caught an eyeful of his sister manically mauling her pussy with her big zebra dildo.

“Holy shit!” Pumpkin said again. “Tell me with a straight face that wasn't the hottest thing you've ever seen!”

“Ugh… Pump, that was…” Pound grimaced. “That was so messed up. We have to tell… Wait. Where are you going?”

“Where do you think, dweeb?” Pumpkin was already out of bed, halfway to the door without even bothering to put on her panties. “I'm gonna go see if jungleboy has another round in him. I'll try not to keep you up.”

“Okay… and about my laundry tomorrow—?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. Night, little bro!”

Like a whisper in the wind, she was gone. It was just as well, given the circumstances. Pound waited until the door was closed and he was sure that his sister had left before he checked to confirm what he already knew. He pulled back the covers and looked down in his boxers; the fabric clung to his skin a bit thanks to the thin, watery load of cum he had spurted out during his viewing. It was quite runny, not very potent, and, as much as it begrudged Pound to admit that he noticed, nothing at all like the load that the zebra dumped into his mother.

“Oh man,” sighed Pound. “I'm so cooked…”