Saddle Up, 2024

Chapters

Night Light and Sunburst
Rockhoof and Trouble Shoes
Hitch and Sprout
Sombra and Zebras
Star Spur and a Changeling
Braeburn and Cow Ponies
Pistachio, Hoity Toity, and Blue Blood
Braeburn and Cow Ponies 2
Apple Brandy and Big Mac
Butterscotch and Bubble Berry

Night Light and Sunburst

Rolling to his back, Night Light breathed heavily as he stared up at the ceiling of the seedy hotel room. Was this actually happening? Could he really go through with this? As his mind raced and stallionhood throbbed, resting hard and heavy against his belly, his thoughts shot back to how it had all started.

Not two hours prior, he’d been having a relaxing evening. With Velvet, his loving wife, out having a mares’ night with her friends, it was only fair that he go out and have a little fun himself - nothing too wild, just a few drinks at a little bar in town, but it beat sitting at home twiddling his hooves all evening. After getting a drink and finding a seat for himself, debating on if he should listen to the buckball match being aired on the radio or try to play a game of pool with one of the other patrons, something - well, no, somepony had caught his eye.

He couldn’t say he was friends with Sunburst, but they’d crossed paths on a number of occasions. Moments after recognizing each other, they’d started to talk, each happy to see a familiar face, but it wasn’t long before things took a turn. With the drinks flowing and being in good spirits, he found himself looking at the young stallion in a way that took even him by surprise.

“Almost done!” Sunburst called, snapping him from his reverie.

Debating on taking a less provocative stance, he flinched when the bathroom door opened. Sunburst trotted out and came to an abrupt halt, seeing him spread eagle and presenting himself not unlike a lustful filly. A part of him was embarrassed to be holding his hind legs apart and showing himself off in such a way, especially because Sunburst was young enough to be his son, but another, far more sinful portion of his mind relished how naughty he was being.

“Oh…oh wow,” Sunburst reverently exclaimed, slowly trotting over and removing his glasses. “I was k…kinda hoping you’d do something sexy, but…”

Night held his breath and forced a wary smile. “B…but?”

Looking up to his face, Sunburst beamed. “I didn’t think you’d do something this sexy. Talk about a DILF!”

“I - uh…” Night faltered, averting his gaze as his cheeks darkened. “T…thanks…”

To say he was feeling anxious would be a massive understatement, but it wasn’t the fact that he was running around behind his wife’s back that had him on edge. He and Velvet had been in an open relationship for years, ever since Shining and Twilight had grown up and moved off to start their own lives, and it wasn’t uncommon that they’d share stories about flings they’d had - heck, he wouldn’t be surprised if Velvet ended up getting frisky with one of her friends this very night. Unsure of what to say or do, completely out of his element, he glanced past Sunburst’s face and eyed the massive, hardening length dangling under the young stud.

He’d seen a fair number of stallionhoods in his day, both in and out of an amorous setting, yet Sunburst’s tool was definitely on the bigger side. Nearly as long as his foreleg and just as thick, the scholarly stud’s cock was nothing short of massive. Ordinarily speaking, the size of his partner’s endowment wouldn’t have worried him, but the circumstances were far from ordinary.

“Mind if I…?” Sunburst hummed, stepping forward.

“G…go ahead,” he sputtered, feeling the stallion’s breath wash over his coin purse.

Giving a shuddering sigh, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the tongue running up his balls and to the base of his shaft. Thus far, nothing had been that unusual, even taking the seedy motel into account, but that was going to change before too long. While he had fooled around with a few stallions in the past, he’d never considered bottoming for anypony - that was until that night.

Maybe the cocktails he’d had were extra strong, or perhaps he’d been feeling more experimental than he initially realized - in any case, after he’d unwittingly spied Sunburst’s gargantuan package, he knew he wanted a piece of it. As he lifted his head and peeked down his chest, sensing his stallionhood being moved, he discovered the nerdy, not-so-little stud staring back at him.

Lovingly angling Night’s length toward his face, Sunburst didn’t say a word - instead, he put his muzzle to better use. Leaning in and closing his eyes, he wrapped his lips around the throbbing, azure shaft before him. His technique was fairly impressive for a pony his age, given that he was a bit tipsy, and it earned him a pleased groan from the older pony.

“Buck…” Night breathed, rolling his head back.

The blowjob was the perfect way to kick things off, relaxing him in more ways than one while simultaneously stoking the flames of his lust. He’d prepared himself for what was to come, cleaning himself up and going so far as to magically lubricate his backdoor before things got spicy, so all he had to do was stay loose, enjoy himself, and not let his nerves get to him.

Pulling away with a soft pop, Sunburst licked his chops. “Time for the second course.”

“The second - Eeep!” Night squeaked, tensing as what could only be a tongue ran down his taint and to his twitching pucker.

Sweet Celestia - this was weird. Even though he’d been rimmed plenty of times by his wife, this was the first time another stallion had dined on his behind. With his eyelids fluttering and heart beginning to race, he turned his head to the side and froze when he spotted his reflection in the mirror above the dresser.

The sight of himself, holding his fetlocks while a young stud ate his ass, was positively depraved. A stallion as old as him, much less one who was in a relationship, shouldn’t be out having one-nighters with young studs - nevertheless, the obscenity of it all was electrifying. Watching the hedonistic display, he gnawed his bottom lip and bit back a guttural moan.

Sunburst’s blowjob skills had been pretty decent, better than average but far from the best he’d had, yet they were immediately outshone by the tongue lashing he gave. Kissing and sucking Night’s hole, he gradually ratcheted up the intensity. He’d only slow occasionally, expertly wielding his magic to add a little extra stimulation to the moment, and went on for what felt like hours.

Tossing his head from side to side, Night fought to contain himself. Being teased from getting sucked off had been all well and good, but he wouldn’t have guessed he’d end up being edged from rimming. His chest heaved, his thoughts grew clouded, and pre-cum leaned from his rigid, untouched cock onto his abdomen as he became increasingly desperate for release.

Giving his pucker a parting kiss, Sunburst shied back. “I still can’t believe this is happening!”

“M…me neither,” Night rasped.

“Like, ok,” Sunburst animated continued, brushing his mane back with a forehoof. “Not to be weird or anything, but I’ve fantasized about this a lot - like, I mean a lot!”

Night wanted to reply, yet the claim caught him completely off guard. “Wait ~ really?”

“Mm-hmm,” Sunburst affirmed. “Since I saw you at Shining’s wedding, I always kind of hoped we’d get to have some fun together.” The moment he finished speaking, he started and blushed. “N…not that I wanted to ruin your relationship with Velvet or anything, b…but -”

Night chuckled then laughed, both amused and excited by the declaration. Sunburst was, from everything he’d heard, a fine young stallion - sure, he could be a bit awkward at times, but that was far from a bad thing! Seeing the confused look on the Crystaller’s face, he released his legs, rolled over to his side, and got to his hooves. With as quickly as things were going, he wasn’t about to make his newfound stud anxious.

“It’s fine,” he softly stated, reaching out and caressing Sunburst’s cheek. “Velvet won’t mind, Shining and Twilight will never know this happened, and I think it’s fair to say that we’re both looking forward to this ~ right?”

Shifting anxiously in place, Sunburst rubbed his neck. “W…well, I -”

Smack

The sound of Sunburst’s meaty cock smacking against his belly couldn’t have been more appropriately timed. Though he was clearly a bit uneasy, his body had given an honest response. Snickering to themselves, the pair trailed off as their eyes met.

“Lemme get a good look at this thing,” Night mused, hopping from the bed and trotting to Sunburst’s side.

Dipping his head, he brought himself face to face with the tool of his destruction. Flying in stark contrast to Sunburst’s timid and somewhat bashful demeanor, his stallionhood was utterly monstrous - to make matters worse, the heady musk radiating off his loins was intoxicating. He inched forward, creeping beneath the petrified stud, and was filled with a mixture of arousal and apprehension.

Being pegged by Velvet was one matter, but taking something of Sunburst’s size was going to be an entirely different ballgame. The good news was that he had been warmed up and was as ready as he was going to get - the bad news was that, in spite of his excitement, he knew he was going to be in for a very interesting experience. Glancing to the side and seeing Sunburst looking down and back at him, he smirked and drew his tongue along the young stallion’s length.

He backed away as quickly as he’d started and nodded. “Sit down for a second.”

Obliging him, Sunburst eased himself down and cocked his head. “Gonna lube me up?”

“Something like that,” Night murmured.

One of the few things he’d learned over the years was that there was no such thing as having too much lubricant - at least that’s what he told himself as he shuffled around to face the seated stallion. Lowering his head and opening his muzzle, nursed on the tip of Sunburst’s length. Even for an experienced stallion like himself, having sucked more dicks than he dared to count, it was a struggle.

His jaw strained, his lips were stretched, and he was absolutely certain that he wouldn’t be able to handle more than the first few inches of the massive stallionhood in his maw - fortunately for him, he had somewhere that would be a bit more accommodating. Igniting his horn while he continued bobbing his head, he sorcerously kneaded his winking backdoor. He might be trotting funny and avoiding sitting on hard surfaces for a few days, but he was not going to leave until he’d been stuffed and hopefully creamed up by the well-hung, bookworm.

With Sunburst’s colossal dick coated in saliva, he withdrew, spun around, and threw his chest down to the floor. “Just…” he gulped, casting an apprehensive glance over his shoulder. “Just go slow.”

Sunburst reared onto his hind legs and mounted him without the slightest bit of hesitation. “Deep breath…”

Filling his lungs, Night slowly exhaled as he felt the hoof-sized cock-head press against his pucker. As the pressure on his backdoor mounted, nearly becoming too much to bear, his stallionhood drooled to the floor beneath him. Just as he was beginning to consider throwing in the towel, it happened - he was forced open.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head, his knees buckled, and his mind went black. He’d expected there to be some discomfort, but that wasn’t the case - in fact, it was the polar opposite. Instead of feeling any pain, a thunderous wave of raw, unbridled pleasure overtook him and carried him to the gates of nirvana in an instant. Involuntarily bucking his hips and whimpering like a filly in heat, he painted the carpet with his seed.

Stopping dead, Sunburst blinked. “Did…did you just cum?”

“Y…yesh,” Night slurred, shakily peering back at the stud.

Holy heck - he’d had some pretty wild experiences in the past, but this was definitely a first. Unable to think clearly, knowing he’d only taken a fraction of what Sunburst had to offer, he rolled his hips back and managed to take another few inches of godly stallionhood into his ass. He hadn’t felt this good in - actually, he didn’t think he’d ever felt this good before.

“I’m guessing you want me to keep going?” Sunburst chuckled. Seeing the older pony frantically nod, he steadied himself, secured his grip, and began to move. “F…fudge - you’re so tight.”

Night heard what Sunburst said, but the statement didn’t make any sense. Unless the sheepish unicorn was used to rutting full-sized dragons or yaks, any tush he sank his titanic bitch-breaker into would be tight! Folding his forelegs and resting his head, he savored the overwhelmingly intense sensation of having his insides rearranged.

His only regret, were he to name one, was that he hadn’t brought a camera to commemorate the moment. There he was, a literal grandfather, bent over and getting plowed by a stallion less than half his age. He knew he was a degenerate, and he was sure Velvet was going to give him a hard time for getting his back blown out by their son’s friend, yet the phenomenal sensations coursing through him made it worth it.

After gradually acclimating to the immense intrusion, he tensed and took a more active role. He may have been bottoming, but that didn’t mean he had to just stand there and get fucked like a total pushover! He milked Sunburst’s shaft as best he could, squeezing on the stud’s backstrokes while relaxing on the plunges, as his bliss mounted.

One of the most amazing things about the experience was that he’d managed to cum without any stimulation to his stallionhood whatsoever. Even on the instances when Velvet had topped him, donning a strap-on to dominate him, he’d only ever achieved release with the help of a magical reach-around, yet Sunburst had literally fucked the cum out of him. Staving off the temptation to stroke himself off, he subconsciously picked up speed.

Sunburst was quick to reciprocate, matching his pace and zeal. Each thrust was a bit deeper than the last, cramming inch after incredible inch of cock into him, but there was still a long way to go. It wasn’t until he was driven forward, feeling something thick bump against his straining pucker, that he realized he’d only just reached Sunburst’s medial ring.

Driven by a burning need to be hilted, he slammed himself back. The rimming, lube, and relatively gentle screwing he’d been receiving did the trick, allowing him to take the entirety of Sunburst’s shaft - sadly, he hadn’t been prepared. No sooner did the thick band of flesh crush his p-spot than he climaxed again.

He wasn’t sure which was worse, the fact that the marish squeal of ecstasy ringing in his ears was his or that he wasn’t even hard throughout his second orgasm. Fitfully twitching and gushing jizz, his semi-rigid stallionhood limply hung from his groin. This was bad - really, really bad. They’d only been at it for a hoofful of minutes, maybe ten at most, and he could barely hold himself up!

Draped over him, Sunburst kissed his neck. “I’ll take over from here…”

More than happy to pick up the slack, he made good on his promise. His technique was impeccable, somehow loving and harsh at the same time, and it reduced Night Light to a gibbering, mewling heap. He may have been a fine stallion and a hero in his own right, yet he was absolutely ruthless in the sack.

Night’s breath hitched in his throat as he skyrocketed to and past his limit. Though he’d always considered himself a stallion’s stallion, the one in charge regardless of whom he was sleeping with, his stance on the matter was changing rapidly. If being plowed like a field in spring by Sunburst meant he could experience rapture like this, he might need to visit the Crystal Empire more often.

“H…harder,” he croaked.

“You - Nnnph - got it,” Sunburst grunted, pulling out the stops and releasing his full carnal potential.

For the second time in short order, Night was undone by his own hubris. With his balls beaten against by Sunburst’s coin purse, feeling his belly bulge with every thrust, he didn’t slip past the threshold - no, he sailed over it. Throwing his head back, he howled like a beast possessed as he was unmade on an existential level.

Beset by wild, unbelievable thoughts, he gradually lost himself. The sound of his effeminate moans mingled with Sunburst’s heavy breaths, the scent of sex hung heavily in the air, and the lingering taste of sweat and pre-cum danced on his tongue. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen once the night was through, but he was certain of one thing - he would be a different stallion when he eventually returned home.

Seconds stretched into minutes and longer still as he came again and again and again. At some point or another, though he couldn’t say when, every drop of his seed was spent, leaving him to impotently dry climax. Mired in sheer ecstasy, he was wrenched back to the present when he sensed the pressure in his depths increase.

“N…not gonna last long,” Sunburst wheezed.

Peeking over his shoulder to see Sunburst’s set jaw and eyes closed with concentration, Night understood what was happening. He was moments away from being claimed, getting bred by the young pony, and the realization drove him mad with lust. He summoned every bit of strength he had and wantonly bucked back against the stud, wanting - no, needing to feel a hot, thick load coursing into him.

His efforts were rewarded in the blink of an eye when Sunburst hilted him. Being impaled on such a mammoth cock would have been phenomenal enough in and of itself, but that paled in comparison to having his wish granted. Scalding foal-batter surged through the stallionhood buried in his ass, filling him with what felt like pints of rich, virile essence. He would have liked to say he came right alongside the stud, braying to the heavens, yet the pleasure which struck him was beyond orgasmic.

With his vision tunneling, he collapsed into a heap under Sunburst. He could barely breathe, moving was impossible, although the gratification that consumed him more than made up for his weakness. Turning his head and meeting his stud’s eye, he drunkenly smiled.

“Hey - uh…” Sunburst began, his face having gone beet red. “You wanna - ya know, go another round before we call it a night?”

Grinning all the broader, Night gave a subtle nod. “Absolutely…”

He couldn’t imagine how terrible he must have looked. Covered in sweat and with his belly swollen with cum, he wouldn’t have looked out of place on a porno shoot or at a fetish club - still, as long as Sunburst was happy with him, he wasn’t bothered in the slightest. As he locked lips with Sunburst, overjoyed that he’d been shown a side of himself that he didn’t know existed, he dwelled on a single question ~ would Velvet like to get in on the action at some point…?

Rockhoof and Trouble Shoes

“I - hic - I have to - careful,” Rockhoof blurted, stumbling over and keeping his newfound, gargantuan friend from losing balance. “Thanks for inviting me.”

Getting his hooves under him, Trouble Shoes righted himself, looked over at the bearded goliath, and smiled. “A…alright.”

Rockhoof grinned, took a step back, and peered into the barn which he’d just departed. The party was done for the most part, leaving only a few ponies chatting or in one case passed out on a hay bale, and he was genuinely grateful that he’d been asked to attend. He hadn’t known what a hoedown was - in fact, he still wasn’t exactly sure what the word meant, although the drinks, good times, and fun had been a wonderful change of pace for him.

He’d met some wonderful ponies this evening, and bumped into a few he’d known for some time, but there was one in particular who’d thrown him for an absolute loop. As his eyes wandered back to Trouble Shoes, who was getting berated by his cousin for having too much cider, he bit back a chuckle. Of all the creatures he’d crossed paths with, both in the bygone era he was from and the new age in which he resided, there were few who’d genuinely impressed him as much as the brawny, soft-spoken stallion he’d quite literally bumped into.

Shifting slightly, he faced Braeburn. “I can make sure he gets to his room in one piece.”

Braeburn swung his focus from his tipsy, distant cousin over to Rockhoof. “Ah’d appreciate that. I swear, if I didn’t know better, I’d think y’all’d known each other since you was colts.”

Trouble snickered and threw a foreleg over Rockhoof’s shoulders. “Ah…Ah don’t know about that…”

“Trouble, for buck’s sake, you can’t just go gettin’ all hoofsy with him. That’s Rockhoof - the Rockhoof, hero of Equestria!” Braeburn blared.

Waving away his concern, Rockhoof shook his head. “Really, it’s fine. After all the scraps I’ve been in, I think I can handle a hug - even a hug from a big lug like this.”

He balanced on three legs to tussle Trouble’s ebony mane with a hoof. He wasn’t lying, he’d been through much worse than a bit of drunken affection from a friend, but he hadn’t been completely forthcoming. Trouble was probably - no, was the only pony who’d ever been able to give him a run for his money in regards to strength and sheer size, and he’d only grown more impressed with the hulking stud as the night had gone on.

Things had started innocently enough, knocking back cider and talking with the other partygoers, but it hadn’t taken him long to spot somepony who wasn’t like the rest. Trouble stood out like a sore thumb, standing nearly a full head taller than anypony else, and his stoic demeanor had initially set his nerves on edge - initially. After introducing himself and mentioning that he knew the giant’s cousin, hoping for nothing more than to make acquaintances, he’d found himself drawn to the behemoth.

Maybe it was because they were nearly the same size and build as one another, or perhaps it was because Trouble was so silent, only saying a few words when he chose to speak - regardless, they’d hit it off with startling speed. What began as storytelling, with him doing almost all of the talking, took an eventual and positively thrilling turn. Without saying a thing, Trouble had led him over to an emptied crate of apples, squared off, and placed his elbow on the solid wooden surface.

He’d thought that the friendly arm wrestling match would be easy, another notch on his belt of little victories between friends, but he’d been wrong - dead wrong. Trouble destroyed him in the first match, slamming his foreleg down against the crate in an instant, although he’d narrowly won the second. By the time they were ready to settle their tie, a crowd gathered to cheer them on.

The third and final bout had been herculean, with both Trouble and himself straining for all their worth, although all their effort had been for nothing. After minutes of trying to overpower one another, grunting and growing slick with sweat, the wooden box they’d been resting against shattered under their combined weight. He hadn’t been angry in the slightest, nor had Trouble, and they’d laughed it off as they went off to get a cold drink and congratulate one another.

He couldn’t say when it happened, but eventually he caught himself looking at the muscular stallion with more than just curiosity. Trouble was surprisingly graceful for a stallion of his size, the dulcet tone of his voice made his hair stand on end, and his face - his face was shockingly handsome. There weren’t many ponies who knew about it, and fewer still who he felt comfortable openly discussing it with, but he’d always had a fondness for studs - particularly big, beefy ones, ones just like…

“Trouble,” he began, catching the stallion’s eye, “c’mon, let’s get you back to the house.”

It may have been his imagination, but he could swear he’d caught Trouble eyeing him at a few points throughout the evening. He could have - would have been more direct, but a party wasn’t exactly the best place to ask somepony if they fancied him. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass himself or Trouble, so he’d done what any reasonable stallion would do - bided his time and waited for an opportunity to present itself.

Trotting up to Trouble’s side, he nodded at the hotel in the distance. “Thanks again…”

Trouble didn’t reply, not verbally, although his reaction couldn’t have been more perfect. Leaning over and against Rockhoof, he contentedly hummed. The sight of the two of them must have been something else, two titans shuffling off, although nopony could have guessed where the one’s intention’s lay.

Rockhoof shivered and nearly stumbled, taken aback by the innocent show of affection. The heat of Trouble’s body against him, the stallionly musk filling his sinuses, and listening to the deep, sonorous hum of his friend sent blood to all the wrong places. Glancing over his shoulder, ensuring that nopony was watching them, he sensed his stallionhood slipping from its sheath.

“So,” he warily murmured, “I’m guessing a strapping stallion like you has a marefriend?”

Shaking his head, Trouble peeked up at him. “Can’t say Ah do…”

Though his heart skipped a beat, Rockhoof maintained his composure. “Coltfriend, perhaps?”

Trouble continued shaking his head and slowly righted himself. “Nope, don’t have one of those neither…”

Opening his mouth to press the subject, Rockhoof stopped himself, gave a small nod, and continued along toward the Appleloosa inn. While he could and had fought monsters, averted natural disasters, and was older than nearly everypony on the face of the planet, matters of courtship weren’t exactly his forte. He couldn’t just start putting the moves on Trouble ~ could he? It couldn’t be that easy ~ right?

As he wandered into the inn and up the stairs, his heart started to race. The cider may have played some part with his nerves, but most of his anxiety was due to just how attractive the burly stud was. Tomorrow - yeah, he could see how he felt about the issue tomorrow. Coming into the hallway of the second floor, he moved to the side as Trouble trotted ahead of him and to a door.

“I’ve g…gotta say, I’ve had a cracking good time down here in Appleloosa,” Rockhoof murmured, unable to keep a quaver from his voice. “I’ll be sure to see you tomorrow before I head out of town ~ alright?”

Trouble opened the door and slowly turned to face him. “You ain’t in a rush ~ are ya?”

“I…” Rockhoof trailed off. “No, but…”

Grabbing him by the shoulder, Trouble pulled him into the shadowy room. “There’s somethin’ I’ve been meaning to say. I - aw shucks - to Tartarus with it…”

“You can - Mmmph?!” Rockhoof gasped as he was driven back against the wall.

Taken completely off guard, he was powerless to stop the stud from leaning in and locking lips with him. His mind went blank, trying and failing to comprehend what was happening, as his stallionhood jerked upward and slapped against his belly. He’d been ambushed plenty of times, more than he could count, but not once had he been taken by surprise like this.

Trouble blindly reached over with a foreleg and slammed the door closed, giving them some modicum of privacy, before he gradually pulled back. “Don’t think I wouldn’t notice you eyeing me up…”

“W…well - uh - y…you see,” Rockhoof stammered.

Looking away, he rubbed the back of his neck. What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to do? He’d spent the last few hours fantasizing about Trouble, thinking of all the naughty things they could do together, he now he couldn’t even think clearly! He was like an horny filly on prom night, so excited to have a passionate moment that he didn’t know what to do now that the moment had arrived!

“If’n you want a better look at it…” Trouble rumbled, backing away and easing himself down by the foot of the bed.

Lifting his head, Rockhoof looked over and went rigid in more ways than one. Trouble had made himself comfortable, very comfortable, and reclined with his loins on full display. Standing like a mighty oak at the stud’s groin, almost impossibly large, was the biggest, thickest, fattest stallionhood he’d ever laid eyes on.

“Ah…Ah hope it don’t scare ya off,” Trouble grumbled. “Most stallions get spooked when they see the size of it…”

Scared off? Spooked? What the hay was Trouble talking about? Rockhood inched closer, his mouth watering and pucker twitching anticipation, and swallowed hard. A part of him could see what the big bigger was talking about, considering the monstrous cock was bigger than the leg of an average pony, but the idea of getting to conquer such a magnificent stallion drove him wild with desire.

Coming between Trouble’s outstretched hind legs, he lowered himself to the floor and brought his face to the stallion’s groin. The smell - mother mercy, the thick musk radiating from the stud’s loins was ambrosial. With any hope of taking things slow going straight out the window, he peered past the towering, monstrous dick and licked his lips.

There were times to talk and times to act, and this was definitely one of the latter. Momentarily burying his snout in Trouble’s weighty coin purse, he dragged his tongue over the grapefruit-sized pair of meaty balls. He might not be able to get knocked up, but he had no doubt that he was going to feel pregnant if - when he took a full load from the giant’s pair of cum-tanks.

He held himself back, allowing both of them to savor the spontaneous exchange as he slowly lifted his head and licked his way up the imposing shaft’s sensitive underside. Though he’d gotten frisky with stallions on a hoofful of occasions, this was the first time in his extraordinarily long life where he may be in for a challenge - a real challenge. Reaching the bloated tip that was as large as his hoof, he opened his muzzle and dipped his head.

The feeling of something so huge filling his mouth and straining his jaw was breathtaking, and it was made all the sweeter by Trouble’s blissful expression. Closing his eyes and giving a small, the colossus gave a pleased sigh and shivered. If he’d had the slightest idea that his amorous feelings were mutual, there was a darn good chance he would have dragged Trouble away from the party hours ago!

As the blunt cock-head bumped the back of his throat, he drew a deep breath and steeled himself. It was a bit foolish to think he could handle all of Trouble’s length down his gullet, but he couldn’t bring himself not to try - after all, it wasn’t every day that he got to truly test his own limits. He closed his eyes and relaxed, knowing that to do otherwise would stymie his efforts, as he took inch after phenomenal inch of stallionhood into his snout.

Lower and lower he crept, in spite of the urge to gag, until his lips graced the thick medial ring. He could throat any regular pony with ease, hilting them in his muzzle with perilously little effort, but that was the problem - Trouble was far from a regular pony. Cracking one tear-streaked eye, he peeked up and found the giant watching him intently.

There were any number of things he could have done, from persisting with the blowjob to pulling back and worshiping the giant’s balls, but something about being watched demolished his inhibitions. Buck it - they’d both had a few drunks, they both clearly wanted to get some action, and his patience with the foreplay was quickly running out. Withdrawing and leaving saliva streaked along Trouble’s length, he freed his snout with a soft pop.

Trouble glanced over his shoulder and nodded. “There’s lube in the nightstand, but Ah -”

Not letting him finish, Rockhoof rushed over, opened the drawer, and pulled out a bottle. It was only by the grace of some higher power that Trouble had some lube laying around, because he was sure as heck going to need it. As he trotted back and stepped over the stud’s supine frame, he reached back with a forehoof and doused his ass with the slick, cool gel.

“I - heh - I’m guessing you don’t mind cowgirl,” he laughed.

The small, unintended joke of a western stallion liking the position caused Trouble to chuckle. “Ah don’t mind it one bit.”

Rockhood twisted as he emptied the bottle onto Trouble’s stallionhood. While it was a bit of a shame that there was no way he could warm himself up, that wasn’t going to stop him at this point. He might be trot away from this night with a sore ass, and be trotting trotting with a limp for a few days, but those were small prices to pay for such a rare tryst.

Lowering his waist, he touched his twitching hole to the tip of Trouble’s shaft. He could still change his mind or possibly ask for a rim-job to loosen his backside a bit - alas, he was past the point of no return. As he exhaled and eased himself down, the pressure on his hole steadily mounted. Just as he started to grapple with the absurd notion that he was too small for the stud, his wish was granted.

Trouble’s battering ram-like cock-head, as well as several inches of length, sank into him in the blink of an eye. The intrusion may have been uncomfortable, if not impossible for most ponies, yet it filled him with bliss. His tender p-spot was crushed, a small whimper crept past his lips, and his eyelids fluttered, but he only took a fleeting second to appreciate the sensation of fullness.

Continuing his downward plunge, he only slowed when Trouble’s girthy medial ring was lodged in his backside. Never before had he been full of so much cock, more than any but the most whorish or foolhardy could manage, and it sent him into a frenzy. Hilting the heroic shaft, he placed his forehooves on Trouble’s broad, powerful chest and started to move.

“Buck,” he groaned, grinding his prostate to dust. “H…has anypony - Guh?!?”

Trouble seemed to be a fairly quiet stallion, the embodiment of a gentle giant, although finally having somepony take every immense inch of his endowment flipped a switch in him. Planting his hind hooves against the wooden floor, he snorted and drove his hips upward. Rockhoof wasn’t sure what was more impressive, the fact that he was nearly thrown off balance by the colossus or that he’d managed to inspire the titan into rutting his brains out - either way, he wasn’t going to complain.

Plowing into Rockhoof with all the subtlety of a freight train, Trouble grunted. “J…just - Mmmph - lemme k…know if Ah’m bein’ - Huff - t…too rough…”

Rockhoof could barely form a coherent thought, let alone speak. With ropes of drool seeping into his beard, he was fucked like a flimsy sex toy - that was until he remembered who he was. He was a living legend, the sort of pony that colts looked up to, and his pride demanded he take an active role.

Steadying himself, he got Trouble’s timing down and began hammering his ass down to meet the giant’s thrusts. He hadn’t felt this good in - well, he couldn’t say he’d ever felt this good before. Lowering his head and glancing down at himself, he watched in awe as his belly bulged from the enormous stallionhood pounding into him.

As they moaned in tandem, they shared a look and nearly ground to a halt. They were having fun, neither of them would contest that obvious fact, although their competition from before was left unsettled. If they couldn’t best one another in a contest of physical might, maybe - just maybe they could decide things amorously.

Neither Rockhoof or Trouble Shoes pulled any punches, going at one another like a pair of lecherous gladiators as they sated themselves and each other. Whenever one could grow close to the brink, the other would relent and give them a moment to breathe - if only to keep the match interesting. They went on for what felt like hours, lasting far longer than they would have normally, until things reached their inevitable conclusion.

Sensing Trouble flaring within him, Rockhoof slammed his ass down and took every magnificent inch of throbbing stallionhood into himself. For an instant, he thought he’d won, barely eking out a victory over his big-dicked rival - regrettably, his hubris was his undoing. As soon as the first shots of hot, thick foal-batter surged into his depths, he threw his head back and came.

Shot after shot of rich seed sailed from his cock. The climax was mind-bending, hooves down the strongest he’d ever had, and he nearly blacked out because of it. Only barely able to keep himself from collapsing, he struggled to catch his breath and looked down at his lover’s face.

Trouble held one jizz-covered eye shut as he heaved air into his chest. Everything from his waist up was utterly shellacked in spunk, he was covered in sweat, and his mane was an absolute mess, but he smirked all the same. Peering upward and meeting Rockhoof’s gaze, he wiped his face.

“Just mah luck…” he whispered.

Rockhoof snickered and broke into laughter, with Trouble following suit seconds after. The ridiculousness of the situation was too much for either one of them to bear - plus the euphoria of a well-earned orgasm and the cider in their veins lifted their spirits immeasurably. As their giggling trailed off, they leaned toward one another and locked lips. Sometimes, life has a funny way of giving you what you need - even if that thing is a stallion as big as you are…

Hitch and Sprout

“Can I open my eyes yet?” Sprout shouted.

A moment passed before Hitch yelled back. “Almost done! Just hold your horses!”

Sprout sighed and hung his head, not happy that he was having to wait for something, but curious to figure out what Hitch was up to. Honestly, after his little megalomaniacal stunt, he should be happy that he’d been invited over in the first place. Scrunching his snout, he buried his head in his hooves as he sat on the edge of his friend’s bed.

Live in Maretime bay - heck, everywhere had been pretty nuts lately. Not only had he found out that pegasi and unicorns existed, but magic had been returned to the world by Sunny of all ponies. All things considered, anypony in his position may have overreacted and tried to start a war - well, maybe not, but the notion made him feel a little less guilty about what he’d done.

Losing his job as a deputy had been expected, yet the guilt he’d been dealing with had been gnawing away at him. He’d almost lost Hitch, his oldest, most cherished friend, and he’d nearly killed several ponies in the process - sure, he didn’t particularly like Sunny, but he didn’t want to hurt anypony! Setting his jaw and knitting his brow, he shook his head to dislodge the unwanted, dour thoughts from his mind.

“Are they still closed?” Hitch hollered.

Sprout sat back and pinched the bridge of his snout. “Uh - yeah!”

His ears perked up when he heard the door open and a set of hooves come trotting up to him. Irrespective of how glad he was to spend a bit of time with Hitch, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. For starters, being asked to close his eyes was really strange, especially because it wasn’t a special occasion - secondly and just as weirdly, Hitch had been acting particularly chipper all day.

“Okay,” Hitch hummed, “you can look now.”

“Seriously, I don’t…” Sprout trailed off as soon as he opened his eyes.

His jaw nearly hit the floor, his eyes bulged in his skull, and his heart skipped a beat - several in fact - as he gazed over at his friend. He’d seen Hitch in all sorts of situations before, from getting dressed up for photo shoots to casually lounging on the beach, yet nothing - nothing could have prepared him for the sight which greeted him. Adorned in fishnets, a crop top, and a pair of booty shorts, all of which being a matching ruby-red, Hitch beamed and proudly turned his chin up.

“I…wha…how…” he sputtered, unable to process what he was looking at.

Seating himself and adjusting his top, Hitch cocked his head. “Do you like it? Pipp said it’s the hottest thing,” he explained, air-quoting with his forehooves. “I told her that I thought it was silly, but she said you might be able to back her up.”

Sprout was speechless - literally speechless. Though his jaw flapped and he tried to reply, not a single sound escaped him. This had to be some sick joke, because there was no possible way that Hitch could have figured out one of his deepest, darkest secrets.

There was no easy way to say it, and he’d even tried to convince himself otherwise, but he’d grappled with somewhat sinful thoughts about Hitch for ages. His friend may not have fully realized it, but he was hot - like, far, far hotter than he had any right to be. With a chiseled jaw, slender waist, and a derriere that put every mare in town’s caboose to shame, he was a trotting bombshell.

“Hellooooooooo,” Hitch chuckled, leaning in and waved a forehoof. “Equestria to Sprout. Come in, Sprout.”

Shaking his head and snapping from his stupor, Sprout blinked. “What?”

“Do you like it?” Hitch repeated. Backing away, he straightened his top. “I think Pipp is crazy, but she swears I look good in it.”

“I mean, it looks ok,” Sprout grumbled, doing his darnedest not to ogle his friend’s deliciously juicy flanks.

Pulling at his fishnet leggings, Hitch got to his hooves and gradually turned in place. “Well I guess she - Nnnf! Stupid thing keeps riding up…”

“Keeps riding…” The words died in Sprout’s throat when he realized what his friend was talking about.

As Hitch spun around, he noticed something - two somethings in fact. The hot pants Hitch was wearing crept higher and higher, practically being devoured by his prolific tush, but that wasn’t the only thing to catch his eye. Only barely covered, a hint of something pink peeked from beneath the struggling fabric over the stallion’s groin.

“You can notice it?” Hitch asked.

Tearing his eyes off the stud’s crotch, Sprout forced himself to look up to Hitch’s face. “Notice what? I d…didn’t notice anything!”

“Here ~ see?” Hitch continued. Hiking one hind leg, he shamelessly revealed his nethers while pulling at the waistband of his shorts. “It’s called a cage. Pipp told me that they’re all the rage with big-booty femcolts - whatever that means.”

“I…I….” Sprout stammered.

Sensing his stallionhood swelling, he hastily crossed his hind legs and reclined. This wasn’t good - this wasn’t good at all. Popping wood in front of his friend, a friend who he was pretty sure was straight, would be awkward at best and disastrous at worst. As he dismissively waved a hoof, seconds from telling Hitch to go change out of the silly outfit, his hardening length pressed angrily against his thighs.

“I don’t - wait a second,” Hitch mumbled, squinting over him. “What are you doing…?”

Cold sweat beaded Sprout’s brow, a pit formed in his stomach, and he nervously grinned. “Nothing! I’m not doing anything! W…what are you doing in that -”

“Move your legs,” Hitch interrupted, turning to face him. Reaching out with a forehoof, he gently pulled at his fetlock. “Come on, something’s clearly wrong! Did you hurt yourself? Should I go get a nurse?”

“No!” Sprout squawked. “I’m fine! You don’t have to -”

Sproing

Despite his best efforts, pinning his dick to the mattress between his thighs, his stallionhood would not be denied. He rocked back in shock, aghast that his endowment had betrayed him, but he was far from the only stunned pony in the room. Gazing at his monolithic shaft in open awe, Hitch’s eyes wandered up and down the pillar-like length throbbing just out of hoof’s reach.

“Holy cow…” Hitch breathed, his voice hushed and laced with wonder.

Spout flew into a panic, clutching his tool with both forehooves while he leaned forward and tried to hide his shame. “D…don’t look at it!”

Clamping his eyes shut, he cursed his rotten luck and his stupid, massive dick. Hitch may have had a generous and downright beautiful ass, the sort of tush that inspired poets and sculptors, but he wasn’t the only gifted pony in town. While he didn’t have a particularly noteworthy hindquarters, the same couldn’t be said about his endowment.

With his stallionhood fighting against him, jerking upward in defiance, he snarled. Contrary to what many would believe, the behemoth he called a cock was more of a curse than a blessing. He’d heart ponies whisper about how lucky he was, about how they’d kill to have a dick like his, but it came with several drawbacks.

Even if he’d been lucky enough to find a coltfriend for himself, there was no way - no possible way the average pony could accommodate somepony like him with a fifth leg. As crazy as it may have sounded, he would have gladly given a few inches of length and girth to anypony who would have wanted it. Debating on how he’d be able to excuse himself in a relatively inoffensive manner, he lifted his head when a hoof tenderly patted him on the shoulder.

“You mind sitting back for a second?” Hitch nonchalantly inquired.

Sprout sneered, taken aback by the request. “Why?”

“Oh…Ooooooooh!” Hitch gasped. With a wry grin on his muzzle, he trotted in reverse, spun around, and leveled his ass at Sprout. “Is it because you wanted to see more of this?”

As he gazed longingly at Hitch’s ass, all the more enthralled when his friend began rocking his hips and clapping the cheeks of his tush together, Sprout’s mouth began to water. Hitch didn’t have a gratuitous amount of cake, he had an entire gosh darn bakery of a behind. Given fleeting glimpses of the stud’s exquisitely prominent pucker, he shifted uncomfortably.

“What’s the matter?” Hitch teased, ceasing his twerking to reach back and pull at one doughy bun of his backside. “Don’t tell me you wanted a better look at this.”

Sprout had heard that somepony could get so aroused that it hurt - actually hurt, but he’d dismissed it as an old nag’s tale until he saw the glistening, heavenly donut that was Hitch’s backdoor. He’d spent many a lonely night fantasizing about what his friend’s entrance would look like, on whether it would be pronounced or crater-like, so actually getting to see it landed a crippling blow to his self-restraint. All but literally holding himself back, he unwittingly leaned forward.

“Go ahead,” Hitch purred, languidly backing toward his face, “give yourself a good, long - Mmmmmn.”

Cutting Hitch off, Sprout leapt forward and drove his face into the cleft of the heavenly tush that had been tempting him for years. There was a point at which anypony broke, a moment where their resolve crumbled to ash and disappeared - for him, that moment came when his muzzle pressed against the velvety ring of Hitch’s pucker. Closing his eyes and drawing a long, deep breath through his nose, he yielded to his unabashed lust.

Larger than life and even more magnificent, Hitch’s ass was a dream come true. The heat of the mountainous cheeks pressed to either side of his head, the taste of sweat against his lips, and being blinded by his bestie’s backside could have - would have driven him into a frenzy, yet the smell - stars above, the smell was the final nail in his coffin. He groaned and huffed the heady bouquet, overjoyed that he was finally able to make his fantasy a reality.

Hitch’s musk was enchanting, a perfect blend of masculine and feminine, and it was everything he’d hoped it would be and more. Closing his eyes and driving himself forward, he stroked one massive flank while hotly making out with his friend’s ass. After all the years he’d spent silently pining over Hitch, he wasn’t going to let such a golden opportunity go to waste.

Bucking back, Hitch swayed his hips from side to side. “Woah there! What’s the rush?”

“Mmmmmph,” Sprout groaned, barely hearing the question.

What little was left of his higher self understood that this must have been planned. Hitch had clearly done more to prepare himself than just wriggle into the slatternly outfit, considering he was already lubed up and ready for action, but that didn’t make a lick of sense! If his best friend, somepony he trusted more than anypony other than his mom, was willing to lure him into a lecherous trap, that could only mean…

Pushing himself away, he listed to one side and glowered up at Hitch’s face. “Did you want this to happen?”

Hitch gave a slight shrug and reluctantly met his gaze. “Maybe…”

Whether or not Hitch had been stringing him along for years on end, pretending to be straight and either ignoring or not noticing his lustful glances, was a question he could deal with later - for the time being, even though it wasn’t even close to dinner time, he had a buffet to attend to. Seating himself and sliding forward, he situated himself between Hitch’s hind legs and dove in like it was the last meal he’d ever eat.

Affirming his suspicions, Hitch made no move to stop him - on the contrary, he seemed eager to have his tush feasted upon. Bracing his hind legs and raising his waist, he gently rocked forward and back. If somepony had told him he’d end up rimming his best friend that day, he would have laughed and called them a lunatic - fortunately for him and his unchecked libido, that’s precisely what had ended up happening.

It would have been impossible for him to say how long he stayed where he was, french kissing Hitch’s incredible rump, but things eventually came to a head. Slavering pre-cum and pulsing in tune with his thundering heart, his stallionhood ached so badly that it detracted from what should have been a magical experience. Snarling, both excited and irritated with his belligerent dick, he got to his hooves.

“Bend over,” he muttered. Somewhat emboldened, he gave Hitch’s pillowy rear a sound smack to prove he wasn’t messing around. “Now…”

“Yes sir!” Hitch chirped. As he lowered his chest to the floor, he motioned to the bed. “Can you get me a pillow?”

Scrambling to the head of the bed, Sprout snatched up a cushion and lobbed it at his friend’s face. The entire situation felt like something out of a dream, both surreal and unbelievable, but he wasn’t going to risk screwing it up. Situating himself behind Hitch, he gave himself a second to sear the immaculately presented posterior into his memory before standing on his hind legs.

He took a small step while he ran his forehooves over Hitch’s ass and to his hips. “A…are you - Cough - ready?”

Peeking back with a heavily-lidded eye, Hitch nodded. “Mm-hmm…”

“Alright,” Sprout rasped, speaking to himself as much as he was to Hitch.

Bringing one forehoof to the trunk-like base of his shaft, he guided his length to Hitch’s backdoor. The warmth against his cock-head was like an angel’s kiss that chipped away the lingering control he had over himself. He hoped Hitch was ready for this, because he was dead-certain that he wasn’t going to be able to hold himself back for long.

As he drove his hips forward and slipped into Hitch’s behind, he groaned and trembled with delight. Though he was a virgin - well, had been a virgin until that very moment, the satiny sensations against his dick was unfathomably good. He’d had no doubt that sex felt nice, far better than a hoofjob while trying not to wake up his mom, but this - this was criminally good.

“Mmmmmmmmmn,” Hitch moaned. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting this.”

Falling motionless, Sprout stared down at his friend in disbelief. “R…really?”

Nodding once again, Hitch anxiously smiled. “Thank Pipp; without her, I wouldn’t have gotten the courage to do this…”

And just like that, the dam broke. It was one thing to be seduced by his friend - it was quite another to find out that the feelings he’d always assumed were one-way were actually reciprocated. Plastering himself over Hitch’s ass and peppering one colossal cheek with kisses, Sprout clamped his eyes shut and began hammering away.

“Oh Hitch,” he whined, using every bit of strength he could muster. “I…I’ve wanted this for so long!”

Bucking back and meeting every bit of his zeal, Hitch mewled. “M…me too, buddy!”

Judging from the gleeful squeals and just how darn hard his dick was getting milked, Sprout was inclined to believe Hitch. He couldn’t begin to describe how he felt mentally, still reeling from the revelation that his friend looked at him in an amorous light, but physically he was on cloud nine. Every single element of the tryst, from the sights and sounds to the taste of ass on his lips and the sensation of an awesome pucker clinging to his pistoning stallionhood, was divinity incarnate.

As the minutes gradually passed, he fully understood the implications of what was happening. Hitch had a colossal tush, he had a gargantuan endowment - either alone would have meant little, but together they were like a lock and key. He didn’t like to think too much about higher powers, fate, or anything as unknowable as all that, but he couldn’t help but consider that they were made for one another.

“Oh buck,” Hitch gasped. “I’m g…gonna - Aaaaaaahn!”

The marish squeak that sailed to Sprout’s ears was joined by the feeling of Hitch squeezing his cock in a vice-grip. Like so many other things in life, he’d heard that stallions could cum from anal alone, but he hadn’t thought it was actually possible. Without slowing down, continuing to thrust away with reckless abandon, he watched as jizz sailed from Hitch’s chastity cage.

He tried not to show it, but he’d actually been pretty close to his limit for quite some time - that said, comprehending that he’d made Hitch climax cast him into a sea of ecstasy. Hilting and fitfully bucking his hips, he attempted to stay quiet - alas, it was all too much for him. Slipping beneath the waves of a rapturous sea, he nuzzled Hitch’s neck.

“M…Mommy!” he wailed.

Overcome with bliss, to the point where he didn’t realize what he’d just uttered, he collapsed atop Hitch - an act which sent them both toppling to the floor. Stars danced in his vision, he felt like he was trotting on air, and he couldn’t stop smiling while he fought to catch his breath. While he felt a little bad about the spectacular mess he’d made, what with all the cum seeping into the carpet, but he’d be more than happy to help clean everything up.

Falteringly turning his head and looking to Hitch’s face, he coughed. “Y…you ok?”

Hitch stared over at him with a dreamy expression and nodded. “Uh…uh-huh…”

Sprout went to apologize for the rather inglorious finale, but he paused when he saw the full effects of what he’d done. With a distended, gurgling belly, looking positively gravid, Hitch wearily grinned and rubbed his cum-bloated stomach. Though he’d only just blown a tremendous load, his stallionhood twitched enthusiastically.

“So - um - are we dating now?” he timidly asked.

Wiggling over and locking him in an embrace, Hitch kissed his cheek. “If…if it’s ok with you…”

“Yeah,” Sprout sighed, returning the hug and closing his eyes.

He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve this, but he was beyond grateful - sure, there was a lot to take in, and then there was the whole matter of unpacking his feelings for Hitch and visa versa, but he was happier than he’d been in a long, long time. Holding his friend-made-coltfriend close, he snickered. Chuckling alongside him, Hitch gave him another kiss, then a third and a forth, until they were softly making out on the floor. At long last, maybe things were finally starting to turn around for him…

Sombra and Zebras

“Nnnph nnnph nnnph,” Sombra rhythmically grunted as the stallion over him pounded into his ass.

With a roar of conquest, the stud draped over his back hilted and started to cum. Scalding seed flooded his guts, baptizing him in a way that was equal parts humiliating and rapturous, while he weathered a climax of his own. Jizz gushed from around the pulsing length buried in his backside, trickling between the buns of his upturned ass and over his coin purse before dribbling to the floor beneath him.

The stallion, a brute named Waghad, stepped back and dragged his still-throbbing shaft from his ass to paint his back with the final shots of his essence. “You may not have stripes, but the - hnnf - look suits you well, whore.”

Sombra collapsed, unable to hold himself up any longer, and fell into the puddle of spunk beneath him. Every part of him was sore, his once virginal pucker gaped and grasped at nothing, and his stomach gurgled from the three - no, four loads of foal-batter that had been pumped into him over the last hour or two. His vision was blurry and unfocused, yet he shakily turned his head to look up at the stud trotting around to face him.

He’d always considered himself a respectable stallion, well-built and handsome by many standards, yet he couldn’t compare to the striped giant looming over him - not anymore. His crown, his cape, his self-respect - everything he held dear had been stripped from him, torn away and replaced with desires that were as vile as they were ambrosial. Knowing what was expected of him, he wearily lifted his head and opened his muzzle.

“Good bitch,” Waghad growled, stepping forward and presenting his softening length.

The taste of cum, lube, and the depths of his ass had become familiar and, like many things as of late, gratifying. Earning a stud’s seed meant he’d done a good job, and doing a good job meant he’d continue to be of service to his striped lords - it was a vicious cycle. As he lapped at the zebra’s stallionhood, mindlessly groaning and writhing on the sullied floor, his mind sank deeper into a blissful haze.

For him to recall everything he’d gone though, his gradual descent into self-indulgent depravity, would be impossible, yet the start of his journey was a moment burned into his memory. He’d reformed and was rallying his strength, laying low from the insufferable Princesses until he was strong enough to make a move to retake his empire, when he’d first met Waghad. The mohawked giant had come upon him in the tavern of some backwater village and proceeded to hit on him - hit on him.

Being lavished with praise and adulation was nothing new for Sombra - in fact, he routinely had subjects begging to bear him a foal when he’d held his throne, but for a stallion to flatter him was unthinkable. Though he’d initially brushed off the zebras advances, assuming the striped stud some unhinged lech, things took a turn when he realized Waghad wasn’t interested in being rutted - quite the opposite, he wished to do the rutting.

Sombra had laughed off the absurd notion, and even toyed with the idea of enslaving the Zebrican right then and there, but his arrogance had gotten the better of him. After introductions were made, he gave a simple proposal - whoever could still stand after being bred by the other would be considered the true stud between them. He’d had no doubt that he would win, that Waghad would be whimpering like a filly after first tasting carnal rapture, but he couldn’t have been more wrong.

Taking another step, Waghad draped his pendulous balls over Sombra’s face. “Don’t forget these…”

Without a bit of hesitation, Sombra dragged his tongue over the pair of plump, furry nuts. To be defeated would be humiliating enough, but to have stooped so low as to venerate somepony, and a stallion no less, was downright deplorable. Relishing the sweat and jizz bathing his palate, he dully moaned and felt his colthood twitch.

There was only one benefit to his regrettable position, although it was something so staggering that it eclipsed everything else in his life. The pleasure - by the darkness of the abyss, the pleasure he’d been shown was unimaginable. Had he known that submitting himself to a stud would be as amazing as it was, he may have done it ages ago - sadly and ironically, it had taken him being bested to be shown the wondrous light of subservience.

“Adequate,” Waghad grunted.

Sombra dipped his head as the stallion stepped over him and caught a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye. The room he was in was little more than a dungeon, the shabby basement of his domineering host, yet it held a number of interesting features. Along with his bed, which rested in the corner of the gloomy chamber, there was a sawhorse, a table, a dresser, and lastly a mirror situated against one wall. No matter how many times he saw himself over the last month, ever since he’d taken up his new residence, the sight of his reflection always gave him a moment for pause.

Black fishnets clung to his legs, a thick choker was fashioned around his neck, and earrings hung from his ears. He’d been gifted multiple outfits to wear, each more slatternly than the last, but it was his figure that truly jarred him. In the short span of time he’d been with Waghad, his physique had started to change, his muscles withering away and his curves steadily becoming more pronounced, and his intuition told him that his metamorphosis was only beginning.

“Hey,” the zebra barked, “stop zoning out, dumb slut.”

“S…sorry,” Sombra murmured, his voice sounding alien and effeminate in his ears.

Turning his attention back to the stud, he wearily smiled. While it was true that a piece of him hated Waghad, that part of him, much like his masculinity, was growing weaker by the day. He did as he was told, parading himself like a needy, unbecoming mare, and he would eagerly present himself when asked.

Waghad grinned and beckoned with a forehoof. “How about you come over here and…” He fell silent and turned his eyes upward at the sound of heavy hooffalls overhead. “Darn - and I was hoping I’d have enough time to give you another roll before they got here.”

Looking up and over at the stairs, Sombra sat motionless as a zebra trotted down into the basement. What little self-respect he had left surged to the fore as not one but three striped stallions marched into the basement and eyed him hungrily. There was only one reason why anypony would come to see him, and it wasn’t to pay their respects to the once feared King Sombra.

As Waghad trotted over to greet his guests, Sombra’s mouth went dry. He could and would do virtually that was asked of him, although entertaining an entire group of stallions set his nerves on edge. He shifted uncomfortably, inadvertently drawing their attention over at him, and nervously smiled.

“Don’t be so shy,” Waghad urged, waving a forehoof. “Come over and say hello.”

Sombra pushed himself up on shaky legs and trotted over. He could only imagine how pitiful he must have looked, his mane unkempt and wearing lingerie, but his visitors didn’t seem to mind - if anything, going by their wolfish grins and the predatory looks in their eyes, they were happy to see him. Coming to a stop before the small group, he gave a curt bow.

“You weren’t kidding, she is cute,” one remarked.

“Yeah,” another hummed. “Waghad, you lucky dog. How’d you get a mare like her.”

Sombra cocked his head as the gang began to converse and congratulate their friend. They couldn’t really have mistaken him for a mare - no, that would be preposterous. His mane may have been longer than it used to be, and his physique wasn’t as chiseled as it had once been, but those alone didn’t mean he’d lost his status as a stallion ~ did they? Glancing back at himself, he absentmindedly ground his thighs together.

Clearing his throat, Waghad nodded over at him. “Roll over and show yourself off for ‘em. I want them to see that cunt I’ve been wrecking.”

“I…” Sombra stopped himself and eased himself down to the floor.

Questioning Waghad would only cause problems, especially if he did it in front of the stallion’s friends, so he quietly rolled over onto his back and kicked his legs in the air. It was embarrassing to have his backdoor referred to as a cunt, but it wasn’t as inappropriate as it once had been. His pucker, once taut and barely noticeable, had developed into a pronounced, slightly elongated ring of soft, supple flesh. Taking one fetlock in each forehoof, he turned his head and tried to ignore the snickers and wolf whistles of the slowly approaching studs.

“If that ain’t a darn nice looking pussy…”

“I’m gonna knock that bitch up for sure…”

“You think we can fit two cocks in that ass of hers?”

“Maybe we should play paternity roulette with her…”

Each comment was more degrading than the last, yet Sombra grew increasingly aroused because of it. He never would have thought that being talked down to would thrill him as much as it did - then again, he wouldn’t have guessed he’d become a hopeless cock-hound either. As the quartet circled and descended upon him, he smirked to himself.

He’d assumed he’d find himself servicing all four at once, but that wasn’t exactly the case. While three of the studs stood around him, the fourth stepped between his hind legs, squatted down, and got into position. The feeling of being penetrated, of having a magnificently massive stallionhood plunge into his slack, cum-slickened hole, lent more weight to the gang’s claims.

Maybe he really was a mare - a mare with a useless prick, but a mare nevertheless. Releasing his fetlocks, he leg-locked the stallion’s waist and lifted his lower half from the ground. As he peered down at himself and watched the imprint of the zebra’s cock snake up into his abdomen, his excitement grew by leaps and bounds.

“Buck, she feels nice,” the zebra growled as he started thrusting into her.

Sombra whimpered and gnawed his bottom lip. This was what he lived for now, to service stallions who yearned for a bit of sexual relief, and he could go the rest of his life without ever laying his hooves on a mare ever again. The feeling of being used, of being subjugated by a creature more powerful and deserving than himself, was so incredible that it almost overshadowed the physical bliss of being fucked - almost.

Bucking up to meet the stud’s plunges, he pawed at the zebra’s chest. “H…harder…”

“Up here,” one of the studs muttered.

Sombra reclined, saw the second stallion’s swaying, rigid length, and enthusiastically opened his muzzle. He may have only had a snout and ass to use, but that didn’t mean he had to only take one lover at a time. Though his positioning was a bit awkward, uncomfortably keeping his head lifted while he was railed out, his awaiting muzzle was quickly made use of.

Being claimed by a single Zebrican had been a life-changing experience, yet it paled in comparison to being spit-roasted by a pair of the striped, exotic giants. The two sawed into him, swabbing his throat and hammering his ass respectively, while his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He would have called the experience mind-blowing, but it was so, so much more than that.

He couldn’t see much from where he rested, blinded by the pair of nuts slapping against his face, but sight was only one of his senses. The scent of musk and sex clung to his sinuses, the feeling of his throat and ass stretching around the stallionhoods pistoning his face and tush respectively, the flavor of cum on his palate, the sound of two titans grunting and snorting above him - each and every facet was as or more incredible than the last.

Overwhelmed in every sense of the word, he gagged and rocked forward and back between the pair of stallions screwing him. Try as he might to reciprocate, to tend to the two studs’ needs, there was nothing he could do. Though his spirit was willing, the non-stop rutting he’d endured from Waghad, paired with the raw zeal of the newcomers, robbed him of his strength and reduced him to a mere plaything - not that he minded.

He came over and over again, weathering the throes of rapture as best he could, though each climax came with a cost. His limbs felt as though they weighed a thousand pounds, it was hard for him to stay awake, and his grasp of reality became increasingly tenuous. While he wasn’t overly concerned about what may happen to him, doubting that the Zebrican’s would intentionally harm him, he was certain that the group wouldn’t ease up until they were completely satisfied.

If the gang of stallions were bothered by his lack of energy, they showed no sign of it. As two studs made use of his muzzle and ass, the others stepped in and lifted his forehooves to their dangling cocks. He tried his best to please them, languidly stroking them off until they could get their turn with him, but it was a daunting task.

He’d had no idea which stallion had roared out until the stallionhood lodged in his gullet throbbed and erupted like a volcano. The heat of foal-batter being disgorged into his belly was heavenly, the only reward a pathetic bitch like him deserved, and it quickly followed by the sensation of the second stud flaring deep in his ass. Cum spurted from his nose and past his lips as he was bred, though he was given little time to relish the moment.

Nearly as quickly as they finished, the duo who’d been plowing his face and tush backed away and freed their flared lengths from him. He coughed uncontrollably, his body desperately attempting to recuperate from what felt like an eternity starved of oxygen. Turning his head and sputtering jizz to the floor, he went to wipe his face and helped as he was picked up and flung to the bed.

“Ride it,” one of the stallions growled.

Sombra lifted his head and found himself facing the stud who’d given the order. At some point or another, though he couldn’t say when, a member of the group had decided to make himself comfortable. Sluggishly trotting over the supine zebra, he impaled himself and followed his command.

The other zebras laughed at his plight, joking how a real stallion would never act in such a way, but their teasing did nothing to deter him. He’d had no conscious knowledge of it, merely playing the part of a sex-pet for Waghad for weeks on end, but the constant abuse and mistreatment had been a training of sorts. His body moved as if it had a mind of its own, yearning the bliss of being fucked, which allowed his mind to wander.

As the other stallions joined him on the bed, each vying for his affection, he lost himself. One minute, he was bucking himself on a zebra - the next, he was bent over while being taken from behind. It was like a depraved slide-show of sorts, punctuated by waves of pure, unfathomable ecstasy, and it only became more depraved as the evening dragged on.

Waghad was a ruthless lover, but his friends made him look like a saint in comparison. Sombra was given no respite, essentially passed between the little gang without the slightest bit of consideration, and it broke him on a fundamental level. He would have said he was a laughable excuse for a stallion, but that wasn’t the case - he wasn’t even a stallion.

Weaving in and out of the waking world and the rapturous void of nothingness, he was unmade. Every drop of cum that was forced out of him was a testament to the masculinity he was losing, a resource he could never recover. Smacked across the face by one of the stallion’s endowments, he started and gasped.

At some point or another, he’d started riding one of the studs in a classic cowgirl position again, but he’d be darned if he could say who he was screwing or when he’d started doing it. In a trance, he looked around and stiffened when something prodded his rear. The moment he turned his head to look back, feeling a knot form in his stomach, the zebra at his back mounted him.

Taking one massive cock in his ass was more than most ponies could handle, but being double-stuffed by two of the gargantuan things was beyond the pale. He squealed and trembled from hoof to head, his sanity shattering as his hole was forced open. All the willpower and perseverance in the world wouldn’t have been enough to save him from the incomprehensible sensations that overtook him, and it was simply too much to contend with.

He blacked out and collapsed atop the stud he’d been seated on. It felt like he’d only been out for a few minutes, a blink in the grand scheme of things, yet he knew that couldn’t have been possible. When he awoke and groggily attempted to push himself up, he saw his visitors hadn’t abandoned him.

“She’s finally up,” one noted, smiling down at her.

Leaning in, a second, reached out and ran a forehoof over her backside. “Really did a number on that cunt of yours ~ eh?”

The cool air against her quivering, cavernous hole contrasted against the heat within her sagging, cum-filled belly. She looked like a gravid whore, bloated with enough foal-batter to give her the appearance of a heavily pregnant mare, and that was after she’d leaked an untold amount of rich cream from her ass. Deliriously snickering to herself, she abandoned who and what she had once been. King Sombra may have been gone, but Sombra the broodmare didn’t have a bad ring to it…

Star Spur and a Changeling

Mornin’, Silver,” Star Spur grumbled as he trotted into the station.

Lowering and peeking over his newspaper, Silver Star grunted. “Mornin’.”

Star Spur continued onward, wandering past the seated sheriff and to the lockers. Another day, another hoofful of bits - at least that’s what his grandpa had always told him. Donning his hat and badge, he gave himself a quick once-over before starting his shift.

His black mane and tail were brushed, the blue of his coat was only slightly dusty, and the red neckerchief he wore complemented his vest and shirt - still, the sight of himself wearing his uniform was nothing new. He’d been a deputy for nearly five years, and the days of being excited to hunt down outlaws had been dulled by time. Most of his days were far more boring than he liked, handling the small number of complaints or disputes in Appleloosa, although some were worse than others.

Glancing to a door at the back of the station, he scrunched his snout. “He still ornery?”

“Yup,” Silver sighed. “I reckon he’s sweet on ya…”

The comment sent a shiver up Star’s spine. “How ya figure?”

Silver lowered his paper as he got to his hooves. “Bugger was askin’ if’n he’d been seein’ ya today.”

Hearing the amusement in his boss’ voice, Star grimaced. “Wonderful.”

Making his way toward the exit, with his shift having come to an end, Silver snickered and patted Star on the shoulder. “Ah’m sure you’ll be fine - Ah mean, it ain’t like he’s too much for you to handle.”

Star kept his muzzle shut while Silver made his leave. He knew better than to say anything, realizing that protesting would only end in more teasing, so he merely took his place behind the desk, picked up the paper, and looked over the articles. It would only be a matter of time until he had to check on their guest, but he was in no hurry.

Minutes passed, rays of sunlight crept through the window, and the faint sound of the town rousing from its slumber gradually crept in through the propped open front door. Just as he was starting to think it would be a quiet, pleasant morning, a subtle noise caught Star’s ear. As he turned and glanced down a short, gloomy hallway, his thoughts darkened.

“That you, Star,” a voice called out.

Pinching the bridge of his snout, Star considered not replying. It was very, very rare for them to lock anypony up for more than a night, using the hoofful of cells as more of a time out corner for bad behavior than anything, yet they’d held a lone prisoner for the better part of a week. Folding and placing the paper on the table, he slipped from his chair.

Buck it - there was no point in delaying the inevitable. It would only be a matter of time until he had to do a round, so he may as well get it out of the way. He slowed as he approached the corridor, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light. In spite of the relative darkness, only lit by a single, small window at the far end of the hallway, two green, gem-like eyes peered at him through the shadows.

“There he is,” the voice hissed. “Sheriff Silver Star told me you were working today…”

Of bucking course Silver would spill the beans about who was on the schedule. Throwing a foreleg to his left, Star flicked the light switch and stormed forward. He considered himself a pretty patient stallion, but he really wasn’t in the mood to deal with their chitinous visitor’s constant, wholly inappropriate pestering - not today.

“Talon, are you gonna behave today?” he sternly asked as he came to a halt at the furthest cell.

With a fanged grin splitting his snout, Talon locked eyes with him. “It depends, cutie. Are you gonna show off that fat little flank of yours?”

Star reflexively averted his gaze before scowling back at the changeling. “Will you just quit with that already? It ain’t like we can go foolin’ around with inmates - besides, I don’t swing that way.”

“Mmmmm,” Talon hummed while he leaned over and eyed the deputy’s backside. “It’ll be our little secret, and I’m pretty sure I could change that.”

Glaring over at the drone, Star felt his cheeks darken. He didn’t, nor had he ever had a coltfriend, although that wasn’t by choice. Appleoosa was a small town, everypony knew everypony, and it wasn’t like he was out of the closet or anything. Was it foolish that he hadn’t come clean and told his friends and family that he was into stallions? Yes. Did he want to risk being picked on? Heck no.

He snorted defiantly and looked the changeling over. It wasn’t like he’d met many changelings in his day, but Talon was definitely one of the biggest ones he’d had the displeasure of running across. Tall and with a muscular physique, the drone’s impressive build, glimmering eyes, and sinful promises sang a siren’s song to his repressed desires, but those paled in comparison to one particular trait the inmate had. Lowering his gaze, he stole a glance at the long, thick, slick length dangling beneath the prisoner.

Flexing his groin, Talon slapped his stallionhood against his underbelly. “Trust me, I’ll have you squealing like a filly with this.”

“What is wrong with you?” Star murmured, tearing his eyes off the incredible endowment that lay just out of reach.

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Talon snickered, “but I do think there’s something wrong with you. Star, you sweet little thing, you don’t think I can tell? Even if I couldn’t smell the lust rolling off you, you’re not as coy as you think you are. The way you look at me, that cute blush you try so hard to hide, and that stutter you get sometimes - Mmmmph.” He shivered and licked his lips. “I won’t try to escape, I swear.”

Star hesitated. “I’d n…never do anything like that…”

“Really?” Talon quipped, raising a brow. Shifting and moving back to his cot, he sat down, rolled onto his back, and splayed his legs. “It’s right here, ripe for the sucking.”

The obscene presentation caused Star’s heart to flutter, although Talon wasn’t finished yet - not by a long shot. Drawing a forehoof down his chest, the drone clutched and languidly began stroking himself off. While he’d seen plenty of naughty pictures of stallions in magazines before, actually seeing such a lewd display in real life hammered away at his resolve.

Lowering his free hoof, Talon fondled his balls and moaned. “They’re so full, sweetness. If only I had some hot, eager femcolt to give me some relief…”

Star wasn’t sure what was worse - the fact that his mouth was watering from the sight of such an incredible package or that he was actually considering Talon’s offer. It was still pretty early, and the chances of somepony wandering into the station were slim, but there would be a lot laid on the line. The townsfolk wouldn’t let him live the experience down, he’d almost certainly get fired, and the side of himself he’d been keeping secret would be revealed - still, he was tempted.

“Ten minutes,” Talon breathed. “If you give me just ten minutes, we’ll both have a ton of fun.”

“I…hang on…” Star huffed.

Whipping around, he galloped into the front office and slammed the front door closed. He’d done some pretty wild stuff in his day, but this had to be the most insane. As he scrambled to turn the lock and flip the be back soon sign over on the window, his thoughts ran rampant. Darned if he knew exactly what was going to happen or if Talon was just leading him on, but his excitement quickly outstripped his trepidation.

He only faltered when he reached a set of keys hanging by the desk. No, absolutely not. For all he knew, this could be some elaborate plan for Talon to get away! If, and that was still a pretty big if, he was going to risk his career on an impulsive, lust-driven fling, he was going to have to be careful about it.

Cantering back into the miniature jail and to Talon’s cell, he set his brow. “We got fifteen minutes, so we’re gonna have to be quick.”

Talon cocked his head while he rolled over and got his hooves beneath him. “Lemme guess, you don’t trust little old me enough to let me out?”

“Nope,” Star flatly replied.

“Shame, but I can respect that,” Talon noted. Crossing to the bars, he reared onto his hind legs and clutched the bars of his cell. “Maybe you’ll change your mind after you’ve had some breakfast…”

“I…” Star trailed off as the changeling’s dick slid through the open meal slot.

Sweet stars in the sky - Talon was massive. As big around as his foreleg and nearly as long, the glimmering, obsidian length silently beckoned to him. He’d dreamed about wrapping his lips around some hot, well-hung stud’s stallinhood for years, longer than he could or would ever admit, and the sight of the immaculately presented cock shattered his reservations.

Shuffling to the side, he sat down and gave himself a moment to appreciate the magnificent shaft bobbing expectantly in the cool air. The sight of the immense thing was enough to make him giddy, but the smell - the smell was nothing short of captivating. Inmates were given showers on a daily basis, and it wasn’t like they could get out and work up a good sweat, yet the virile musk rolling off Talon’s loins fanned the fires of his lust like few things ever had.

“Go ahead,” Talon quietly urged, “it’s all yours for that fifteen minutes…”

Crab apples - Star had nearly forgotten he only had a short amount of time to work with. Leaning in and keeping his hooves crossed, he softly pressed his tips to the broad, drooling cock-head. The warmth that graced his lips, the aroma filling his sinuses, and the hushed snicker from above settled the issue right then and there. He’d never sucked a dick before, but that was about to change.

Opening his muzzle, he wrapped his lips around the tip of stallionhood and leaned forward. Bold, exotic flavors exploded over his palate as the length slid over his tongue. Salty, sweet, and only the slightest bit earthy, the unwashed flesh was everything he’d hoped it would be and more. While he experimentally bobbed his head, leaning heavily on his intuition and the erotic stories he’d read, his thoughts grew hazy.

Talon gently bucked into his face and gave a shuddering sigh. “There you go, little colt.”

The dirty talk was not helping - well, it sort of was, but not in a way he’d expected. He could try to deny it all he wanted, but he liked being treated like this. The flirting and catcalling, being eyed up, and the fact that he’d managed to arouse somepony - anypony were all electrifying. If somepony had hit on him the way Talon had, he would have gotten some action long before now.

Continuing onward, he bit back a gag. It was idiotic to think he could throat somepony on his first first try, especially somepony as gifted as Talon, but that wasn’t his fault. After suppressing his desires for so long, pushed to the breaking point, he wasn’t going to hold himself back. He took a breath, grabbed the bars, and said a mute prayer as he relaxed his throat. His mom had always said ‘go big or go home’, and now it was time to take her advice to heart.

He drove his head forward and forced Talon’s immense tool into his gullet. His eyes watered, his throat spasmed, and his heart skipped a beat - several in fact, but he didn’t ease up until his nose bumped against the frame of the meal slot. While he hadn’t managed to fully hilt the changeling, leaving the base inch or so untouched, the feeling of the fat medial ring resting on his tongue was rewarding to a fault.

“B…buck,” Talon rasped, doing his darnedest to bury the final few bit of his shaft into Star’s muzzle.

The utterance was music to Star’s ears. Moving his head forward and back, he lavished the underside of Talon’s length with his tongue. He may have been a complete novice when it came to pleasing a stallion, but he knew what felt good. Shifting slightly, he spread his hind legs and lowered a forehoof.

This was fantastic - sure, he could get in deep trouble for blowing a changeling who’d tried to infiltrate town, but that didn’t put a dent in his enthusiasm. As he mopped the throbbing shaft with his lips, softly moaning all the while, he turned his eyes up to Talon’s face. He’d always wondered what it would be like to suck somepony off, and the experience did not disappoint.

“Hey,” Talon purred after what couldn’t have been more than a few minutes.

Backing away slowly, Star cleared his snout and swallowed down a mouthful of pre-cum. “Y…yeah?”

Talon dipped his head and glanced upward. “Take this off.”

“No way,” Star protested as his eyes settled on the glimmering ring around Talon’s horn. “If I take that off, you could do anything.”

Rolling his eyes, Talon rested his head on the bars. “Well at least let me get some real action. Don’t get me wrong, giving you a facial would be nice, but I think it’s fair to say that we both want something more than that.”

Though Star really, really wanted to capitalize on the moment and try getting his back blown out, he shook his head. “Listen, we don’t have any lube, I haven’t done any prep work, and I can’t take that negation ring off. Maybe it -”

“Just for a second,” Talon interrupted. “I can fix the lube issue if you take it off. Pretty please with sugar and sprinkles on top?”

“I…I don’t know…” Star mumbled while rubbing the back of his neck. “You promise you won’t try any funny business?”

Rocking back and pressing a forehoof to his chest, Talon closed his eyes. “On my honor and the hive’s name.”

Star pushed himself up and touched the negation ring on Talon’s horn. At best, he was about to check two items off his bucket list - at worst, he’d have to find some way to explain why a prisoner had escaped. Holding his breath, he removed the little metal band and felt a warmth suddenly radiate through him.

“There,” Talon groused. “Now turn around and let’s get back to it.”

While he couldn’t tell exactly what Talon had done to him, feeling completely fine, Star could tell something was up. He felt hotter, his pucker seemed like it had become slick, and his libido raged into an inferno. Once he’d slipped the ring back in place, he scrambled to wheel around and present himself.

“J…just back up for a sec,” he stammered while he gradually backed up to the cell.

Talon obliged, pulling back and leaving just the very end of his dick protruding from the meal slot. “Want me to do the work ~ eh?”

“N…no,” Star croaked, lying through his teeth.

Pressing his tush to the cold metal bars, he peeked over his shoulder and braced himself. There was still time to turn back, to change his mind and forget all of this had happened, but that changed the instant he felt it - Talon’s cock-head kiss his entrance. After furtively sating his desires and rutting himself with a sex-toy, he was finally - finally going to get fucked in the ass.

“Deep breath,” Talon giggled.

Star’s steady inhale turned into a sharp gasp when Talon plunged into him. His eyes fluttered, his knees buckled, and a marish whimper escaped him as his pucker winked and quivered around the thick slab of changeling meat. Holding firm and steadying himself, he hung his head.

Once he’d buried as much of his length as he could, stymied to a small degree by his confines, Talon started to fuck - not tenderly thrust or gently make love, but fuck. Star mewled and groaned, taken aback by the wondrous sensations accosting him. While it was a bit awkward and far from ideal, the mismatched pair were unhindered by the unyielding iron between them.

Talon growled while slamming his hips against the bars. “Gonna - Nnnph - make me do all the work?”

Attempting to reply, Star only managed to squeak out an unintelligible, slatternly groan of bliss. Talon’s command was absolute and compelled him to move. Though his legs quaked and he could barely form a coherent thought, he threw his weight back in tune with the changeling’s plunges.

As impossible as it may have sounded, taking a more active roll magnified his pleasure by an order of magnitude. This wasn’t what any self-respecting stallion would do, wantonly milking some changeling criminal’s dick, although the taboo, utterly debauched nature of his actions filled him with glee. Lowering his head and looking down his chest, he watched as his comparably minuscule stallionhood slung pre-cum to the floor beneath him.

He was close, sensing the telltale signs of a climax growing nearer and nearer, and yet he abstained from touching himself. If he was going to be rutted like some needy slut of a mare, that’s precisely how he was going to cum. Lost to a welling tide of bliss, with his breath hitching in his throat, he was flung over the edge when Talon grabbed and roughly pulled on his tail.

His shrill, marish wail filled the air while ropes of spunk sailed from his jerking, untouched cock. He’d tried to give himself an anal-only climax for years, rutting himself in all manner of positions before, but it wasn’t until he’d had a real stallionhood filling him, beating against his p-spot warming him from the inside out, that he was able to accomplish it. As his forelegs collapsed and his chest fell to the ground, he somehow managed to keep his backside pressed firmly to the meal slot.

Talon was a machine, gifted in both endowment and carnal prowess, but even he had his limitations. After what felt like a blissful eternity, pushing Star to the brink of a second orgasm, he snarled and sheathed every inch of his length into the deputy’s battered, spasming pucker. The pair crossed the threshold together, sharing a moment of rapture that defied their differences, and gradually fell still.

Heaving air into his chest, Star shakily pushed himself up. Yeah, there was no doubt about it, he was going to be trotting funny for a day or so, but it had been worth it - holy cow, had it ever been worth it. As he eased himself off the drone’s softening length, whining as the flared cock-head popped out of him, the realization of what he’d done hit him like a sack of bricks.

“I’m…I’m gonna go get a mop,” he muttered before stumbling toward the office.

“Hey, sweetness,” Talon called out, causing the deputy to stop in his tracks. Waiting for Star to glance back at him, he smirked and playfully waggled his hips. “Gonna clean me up too?”

Star stood mute for a moment, eyed Talon’s cum-slathered length, then stumbled away. He wasn’t upset with the drone - quite the contrary, he was thrilled. It was anypony’s guess as to how long they’d keep the changeling in their tiny jail, being stuck waiting on word from the Princesses on what to do with him, but he was sure of one thing - until they got orders from Celestia and Luna, he was going to make sure their guest was treated very well…

Braeburn and Cow Ponies

“There he is!” Braeburned exclaimed, lowering his cards to wave at the bulky stallion trotting in his direction. “Bushel, you old so-and-so, how’ve ya been?”

Bushel grunted as he pulled a chair up to the table and eased himself down. “‘S alright, I suppose. I ain’t too late, am I?”

Shaking his head, Brae smiled and cut the deck of cards he’d been fiddling with. “Not even a little! Me and the guys were just catchin’ up and waitin’ on ya!”

He turned as he deftly began dealing hands. Cormano sat to his left, Bushel had taken the seat directly across from him, and Happy Trails was on his right. He’d known the trio for years, ran into them on a nearly daily basis, and he considered them all trusted friends - sadly, it wasn’t often that they got to hang out and just relax. With how busy everypony was, what with their jobs and lives, he’d been looking forward to this game of poker for a long time.

“Y’all hear the gossip about Star Spur?” Happy Trails asked in a hushed tone.

Leaning over the table, Cormano conspiratorially glanced around the bustling saloon. “I heard he’s been getting frisky with that ‘ling at the pokey.”

Bushel leaned back askance. “You’re kiddin’ me.”

“Ssssssh,” Cormano hissed. “Now I don’t know about y’all, but I think it’s a bunch of bologna.”

Laughing and feigning disinterest, Brae lifted and appraised his hand. “Y’all think he was bottomin’ or toppin’?”

The trio stared at him blankly for a moment before Bushel spoke. “Neither. Star’s as straight as an arrow.”

“You say that,” Brae began, peeking over his cards while lifting a brow, “but do you really mean it? Supposin’ this ain’t some tall tale, Ah reckon he was probably on the receivin’ end of things.”

Happy Trails leaned over and playfully elbowed Brae’s side. “Speakin’ from experience, partner?”

“Shucks, you of all stallion’s aught to know better,” Brae smoothly countered. “Didn’t hear you complaining about this li’l flank of mine on that train ride we had to Ponyville a few years back.”

“Yeah, if’n Ah hadn’t known better, Ah would’ve thought you preferred stallions,” Cormano chuckled.

Turning his gaze over to Cormano, Brae smirked. “Now don’t get teasin’ him too hard. ‘S far as Ah remember, you was ruttin’ my muzzle something fierce.”

Cormano went pale as he stiffened and reclined back in his chair. “N…no…”

It wasn’t a secret that the four of them had fooled around plenty of times before. While there were plenty of cute mares in Appleloosa, the same couldn’t be said for the countryside or farmland around the rural town - as such, it wasn’t all that uncommon for stallions to blow off steam while they only had one another for company. Cormano and Happy Trails, in spite of their desperate attempts to claim they were straight, couldn’t say they hadn’t enjoyed a few wild, gay flings of their own, but there wasn’t anything wrong with that.

Brae’s eyes flicked over to Bushel as Cormano and Happy Trails began relentlessly teasing one another. There weren’t many stallions in town that he hadn’t worked his charm on, although the hulking stud was a surprisingly tough nut to crack. Was it wrong that he wanted to see what the big guy had to offer? Possibly. Did that stop him from wanting to put another notch on his belt? Absolutely not - if anything, it acted as an incentive.

Lowering his gaze and lifting his forehoof, he studied his cards. “Ante’s five bits.”

Everypony at the table, including himself, tossed a few coins onto the velvety surface before picking up their respective hands. Joking around was all well and good, but they were there for a reason. It may have been a bit underhoofed on his part, but he had something up his nonexistent sleeve for this particular evening.

“Ah think I’ll up it by another five,” he noted, flipping another five bits onto the table.

Though Happy Trails folded, Bushel matched and Cormano raised. It may’ve been a bit early to say things were going to work out the way he’d planned, but it was off to a good start. Keeping his cool and wearing his best poker face, he called and continued the game.

The first round ended in a loss for him, as did the third and the fourth while the cider flowed and everypony loosened up. For all intents and purposes, the stallions were having a great time, joking around and talking about whatever came to mind, although one of them had surreptitiously ordered regular apple juice for himself. If Brae was going to pull this off, which he very much hoped he would, he’d need a clear head.

“Dang,” Brae sighed, throwing his cards onto the table, “ya got me again.”

Snickering and shaking his head, Bushel reached out and pulled his winnings over to himself. “Gotta say, your game is real sloppy tonight. You even got enough bits for another ante?”

Brae’s slickened pucker twitched at the question. He didn’t have enough bits, only having two left in his saddlebag, and his friends knew it. They’d all agreed to only bring a certain amount of coin with them, intending to keep the game mostly for fun, although they hadn’t mentioned anything about bartering.

“Well?” Bushel smugly pressed.

Pushing himself and his chair back, Brae lifted and rested a hind leg on the table. “Ah don’t, ya ought to realize that, but ah’m thinking ah’d like to keep playin’.”

Bushel’s grin wavered as his eyes narrowed. “How you figure that.”

“Oh, ya know…” Brae trailed off as he opened his mouth, extended his tongue, and stroked the air before his muzzle.

“Oh for - Brae, you know I don’t play for that team,” Bushel harrumphed.

“Yet,” Brae corrected. “C’mon, don’t tell me you ain’t curious.”

Swallowing hard, Happy Trails fidgeted in place. “He…he is pretty dang good…”

Brae flashed his teeth while crossing his forelegs over his chest. “See? Wouldn’t hurt to broaden your horizons, Bushel - that is, unless you’re yella…”

And there it was, the trump card he’d been holding for the entire afternoon. Bushel was many things, but a coward he was not. The provocation was a bold move, particularly since the big lug had already downed a few pints, but it was worth the risk. After all the times Brae had caught the beefcake eyeing him, sneaking glances when he didn’t think anypony was looking, he felt pretty sure the unwavering facade of heterosexuality was just that - a facade.

“Be honest, you really just want a roll with me ~ don’t ya?” Bushel inquired.

“Oh ah’d give ya more than a roll,” Brae hummed. “Just don’t blame me if ya come and ask me for seconds…”

“O…or thirds,” Cormano quietly stammered.

More confident than ever, Brae slipped his forehooves behind his head. “So what’d’ya say, Bushel? Wanna keep runnin’ that luck of yours and let me in on another hand, or would ya rather get a nice, long look at my backside as a saunter out them there doors.”

Bushel knit his brow and locked eyes with Brae. “Buck it - why not…”

Struggling not to give an excited shout, Brae hastily shuffled the deck and dealt out hands. Bushel was hard to read, as stoic as ever, although it was obvious that Cormano and Happy Trails were pleased with the development ~ why wouldn’t they be. The winner of the match was going to get a night of the best sex this side of Canterlot - or so they all thought.

Brae didn’t even try to compete, folding nearly every hand or losing spectacularly, and his continual failures, paired with the sinful promises he’d been giving and come hither looks he’d dispensed to the trio, worked to devastating effect. Cormano and Happy Trails really stepped up their game, exchanging bits several times, but it was all for naught. Be it from fate, skill, luck, or some combination of the three, Bushel was the one who ended up as the champion.

Sweeping his winnings into his satchel, Bushel shook his head. “Can’t believe I’m doing this…”

“Doin’ what? Comin’ out on top with the poker or cummin’ while on top’a me?” Brae shamelessly mused.

“Colt, you better quit with that nonsense,” Bushel huffed, his cheeks darkening ever so slightly.

“You think ah’m bluffin?” Brae gasped while holding a hoof to his chest.

Pinching the bridge of his snout, Happy Trails groaned. “He ain’t bluffin’, Bushel. Ah just hope you know what you signed up for.”

Brae flashed his teeth and looked between the three. “You? Ah figured all y’all could have a swing at me - ya know, seein’ as how y’all really put me over a barrel.”

“Like that time in the shed behind Silver Star’s place?” Cormano tittered.

“Or…or like when we snuck into the old mine and he rode me so hard that - oh wait,” Happy Trails coughed as the blood drained from his face. “Y…y’all didn’t know about that…”

Happy as a hot in a sty, Brae got to his hooves and circled the table. “Got anywhere in mind, hun?”

Bushel’s jaw flapped noiselessly for a moment, he went beat red, and beads of sweat formed on his brow as the femcolt languidly drew nearer. “I…I was gonna ask -”

“‘Cause I was thinking right here,” Brae interrupted. Placing one forehoof on the poker table, he reared onto his hind legs and stepped up onto the sturdy surface. “Ragtime don’t mind ~ right?”

“Nope,” Ragtime, the bartender and one heck of a pianist, apathetically replied. “S’ long as y’all clean up after y’all’s selves, knock yourselves out.”

The hour was late, it was a weeknight, and most of the patrons had either wandered back to their homes or, in at least two cases, were asleep at the bar - with those factors combined, Brae couldn’t help but make a spectacle of popping Bushel’s straight cherry. Rolling onto his side and splaying his hind legs, while keeping his package covered with a forehoof, he presented his tush to Bushel.

“R…right here?!” Bushel wheezed.

Nodding and biting his lower lip, Brae slowly nodded. “Mm-hmm. How’s about you hop on up here and lemme get a good look at that mare-maker you’ve been hiding from me.”

Bushel faltered, appearing torn between excitement and trepidation, but his eyes never wavered from the supple, twitching pucker less than a yard from his face. His reaction was cute and very out of character for the large, ordinarily imposing stallion, although what he did next took everypony by surprise. Instead of trying to negotiate or even leaving, he hopped up and slammed his forehooves to either side of Brae’s slender waist.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this…” he breathed, stepping forward and bringing his stallionhood to bear.

Brae had seen a good number of cocks in his day, but there weren’t many that could rival what Bushel was packing. The stud was hung like a beast, his dick positively dwarfing the comparatively minuscule colthood and coin purse beneath it, and he was rock hard. If the drinks hadn’t gotten to him, loosening his inhibitions, his prize for winning at poker sure as heck had.

Leaning forward and holding his thighs apart, Brae invitingly bucked his hips. “Giddy-up, hot stuff.”

As Bushel backed away, got into position, and slid into his depths, his eyes rolled back. Had he the slightest idea that he’d be getting a true stuffing, his hole forced open and pushed to its limit, he would have taken the time to warm himself up and prepare for the occasion - that being said, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the stretch. Arching his back and writhing against the table, sending cards falling to the floor, he moaned out in glee.

Hot dang - this was just what he’d been hoping for. Peeking down at himself, he watched inch after sublime inch of stallionhood sank into his ass. Having been around the block more than a hoofful of times, he could tell when a stud was enjoying himself - and Bushel was definitely enjoying himself. He laid there and waited, biding his time until the stud was fully hilted, then pulled off his stetson and used it to conceal his package.

“Ain’t too shabby ~ huh?” he cooed while clenching his entrance.

Bushel nodded slowly as he rolled his hips back, steadied himself, and experimentally gave his first true thrust. “N…no…”

“Now don’t be shy, big fella,” Brae urged, “go’on and be as rough as you - Mmmph!”

He’d fully anticipated Bushel taking it slow, considering it was his first time plowing a femcolt like himself and all, but he was proven dead wrong. Instead of going at a slow pace and savoring the experience, the brawny stud kicked things off with a bang - literally. The pitch of Brae’s voice went up an octave, sounding even more feminine than it ordinarily did, as his p-spot was pummeled by a deliciously girthy medial ring.

Hastily acclimating to the monumental intrusion, he smiled up at Bushel’s face. “R…right there.”

“Here?” Bushel quipped, angling his thrusts upwards and causing Brae to mewl in delight. “Heh - Happy Trails said your bitch-button was somewheres around here.”

Oh that cheeky rascal! Bushel might not have been all that experienced when it came to topping, but he must’ve taken what he’d heard from his pals to heart. He wasn’t just giving Brae a top-tier rutting, he was plowing the femcolt’s brains out. Each thrust was flawlessly delivered, being neither too fast nor too slow, and they were hitting all of the sweet spots.

“B…buck me,” Brae brayed while his prick flopped about and drooled pre-cum under his hat.

“Alright,” Bushel growled.

It was like a switch had been flipped. One second, Bushel had been plowing Brae at a steady pace - the next, he was going all out. The entire saloon was filled with a staccato of howls, grunts, the clatter of the poker table rocking, and colliding bodies. Everypony around, save for one of the two dozing stallions, was enrapt by the bawdy sight unfolding before them, although two of them weren’t content to spectate.

Crawling onto the table, Cormono came to rest beside Brae’s head. “Don’t forget about me.”

“Or me!” Happy Trails chirped. “I call sloppy seconds!”

Brae shook himself from his stupor and put himself to work as soon as he heard the pair speak. He’d said he’d handle all three of them, and he was a stallion of his word. Twisting his head and locking his lips around Cormano’s shaft, he brought one forehoof up to stroke Happy Trail’s length. He couldn’t care less how long they’d last or where they’d eventually blow their loads, because servicing the three in tandem, all in front of an audience, was utterly enthralling.

Cormano, Happy Trails, and Bushel had worked with one another for ages, but this was the first time they’d made a concerted effort of a decidedly amorous endeavor. Moving discordantly, each seeking to please themselves, they used Brae like an old fashioned nymphs du prairie. As for Brae himself, essentially being the village bicycle when it came to helping pent-up stallions get some relief, he couldn’t be happier.

It would have been painfully evident for anypony gazing upon the debaucherous scene that Brae was a professional. Managing to wrangle a trio of studs in tandem, the slutty little femcolt put his pouting lips, well-trained ass, and tender hooves to work like nopony’s business. Like something out of a dirty magazine or scandalous show, the quartet let their passion soar.

“Mmmm…mmmm…mmmm,” Brae groaned around the stallionhood gliding effortlessly into his muzzle and down his throat.

A tremor crept into his thighs, his mind went blank, and a cocktail of saliva and pre-cum slipped to his chin as he teetered on the brink. He couldn’t say how long they’d been at it, maybe a hoofful of minutes at most, but he wasn’t going to be able to last much longer. Flexing his pelvis and gyrating his hips, he threw himself over the edge.

He shuddered and quaked while he rode out his climax. Though his colthood wasn’t the biggest, relatively dainty compared to the three majestic stallionhoods he was tending to, it pulsed and shot ropes of thin, watery jizz into his hat. While Cormano and Happy Trails wouldn’t have minded him glazing himself, painting his belly and chest with his own spunk, he wasn’t about to risk throwing Bushel off with the indulgent display - especially since he could feel the hunky stud starting to flare.

Throwing his head back and freeing his snout, he gazed up at Bushel’s face. “I…inside! Ah want it - Glk?!”

“S…sorry,” Cormano sputtered as he drove his cock down Brae’s gullet, “I’m close…”

Happy Trails, furiously bucking into Brae’s grip, quickly chimed in. “S…same here.”

Holy cow - was this actually happening? Were the three of them about to finish in tandem? They all got along well, and it wasn’t like they weren’t used to working in concert, but this was an all new level of coordination! Doubling down and renewing his efforts, Brae sucked, milked, and stroked the trio until it happened.

Happy Trails climaxed first, dressing his face and chest like a strudel, and Cormano wasn’t far behind. Gulping down a rich, creamy load, he went cross-eyed as Bushel bellowed and bred his ass. The sweltering influx of foal-batter surging through his insides was the icing on the cake - so much so that it caused him to have a second, albeit slightly weaker orgasm of his own!

Fighting the urge to gag as Cormano unsheathed his softening length, he swallowed down the mouthful of spunk and beamed. “Hot dang - y’all must’a been missin’ l’il old me…”

“Yeah,” Cormano and Happy trails answered in tanem.

“And you?” Brae breathed, turning his head to Bushel. “You have fun, big guy?”

Bushel’s blush returned with a vengeance, yet his stallionhood twitched within Brae. “Kinda…”

With cum seeping out of his pucker, Brae fluttered his eyes at Bushel. “You know what that means ~ right?” he quaintly inquired. Receiving no answer, he snickered softly. “Means you might need to pay me another visit sometime - ya know, just so you can make up your mind…”

Maybe this was his one and only time of tasting what Bushel had to offer, or maybe the reserved stud would eventually come around and breed him for a second time - either way, he was glad that things had worked out the way they had. Basking in the cum covering and sloshing about within him, he laughed. If there was one thing he was truly grateful for, it was having such good friends who weren’t afraid to be very, very close…

Pistachio, Hoity Toity, and Blue Blood

Pistachio knit his brow as he brushed a particularly rebellious lock of his mane. Adorned in a classic maid get-up, mobcap, and garter belt with leggings, he was ready for his shift. Though he considered himself inordinately lucky to have been given an apprenticeship with the Hoity Toity, a couteur of renown known throughout all of Equestria, his brief stint with the fashionista had come with a few surprises.

His trip to Canterlot had gone smoothly, Hoity had welcomed him warmly, and he’d already learned a lot about various fabrics and the latest in vogue trends. It would have been an amazing start to what he’d hoped would be an incredible summer, but there was a catch - several in fact. Turning to the side and stepping back, he inspected himself in the washroom’s mirror.

Since he’d arrived, he’d been required to wear marish outfits. While such a development may have unsettled most young stallions, being allowed to traipse about in frilly dresses, revealing skirts, and even the occasional thong was wildly thrilling. He’d actually adored embracing his feminine side, even having a small stash of negligee he kept stashed in his room back at home, but his latest piece of attire left him at an all too literal loss.

Cocking one leg, he scrunched his snout. Locked to his colthood was a chastity cage - one which only Hoity could remove. He’d known about such contraptions for ages, and he’d toyed with the idea of trying one on for quite some time, yet he’d never worked up the nerve to actually buy one for himself - fortunately or unfortunately, his newfound mentor had given him no choice in the matter. As he lowered his hind leg and reached back with a forehoof to touch the steely prison secured to his package, his thoughts wandered into lecherous waters.

In and of itself, having his colthood imprisoned wouldn’t have been much of an issue. He could do everything he ordinarily did while wearing the thing, it didn’t impede his movements, and it was actually quite comfortable - be that as it may, being denied any sexual relief had been taking a toll on him. Catering to studly stallions and pretty mares day in and day out would have been enough to frustrate anypony, although that was only the tip of the iceberg.

One of the first things he’d learned after beginning his tutelage in Canterlot was that Hoity was about as shameless as somepony could get. Things may have remained professional during business hours, but that changed as soon as the shop was closed for the evening. Shaking and clearing his head, Pistachio turned and trotted out of his bathroom.

Irrespective of Hoity’s after-hours activities, he had a job to do. Displays needed to be straightened up, complimentary tea had to be made for prospective customers, and an inventory needed to be completed. He could and inevitably would have to deal with any erotic shenanigans later - for now, he couldn’t afford to get distracted.

While he trotted out of his room and to the stairs, an all too familiar scent sailed to his sinuses. Buck - Hoity must have been entertaining again the night prior. The smell of sex was unmistakable, standing in stark contrast to that of perfumed fabric, and it did nothing to help him remain focused. The icing on the amorous cake, stoking the fires of his libido like nothing ever had, was that he shared several tastes with his mentor.

To put it bluntly, Hoity was an absolute hound for stallions - particularly big, beefy, well-hung ones. He’d been speechless when he first happened upon his boss getting railed out by a customer, a brute of a thestral who apparently was one of Princess Luna’s guards, and his shock had quickly turned into envy. It was understandable that the couture could do as he pleased in his shop, given he owned the place, but that didn’t do a gosh darn thing to help his needs.

Sensing his colthood straining against its cage, he set his jaw. He had secreted a dildo away with him for his extended trip, purely in case he was feeling in the mood, and he was immensely grateful that he had. Without the silicone sex-toy, he wouldn’t have been able to get any relief whatsoever! Approaching the bottom of the stairs, he slowed to a halt.

He thought he’d imagined it at first, but he could’ve sworn he’d heard a hushed groan. With the shop not opening for another hour, and Hoity tending to be one who was fashionably late, there shouldn’t have been anypony downstairs. Shrugging it off and continuing onward, he made his way past the register and to the workshop hidden away behind the counter.

“R…right there…”

Nearly stumbling over his hooves, Pistachio came to an abrupt stop. The guttural but refined voice sent a shiver up his spine. Intrigued and more than a little turned on by the sensual sound, he silently crept to a curtain separating the storefront from the employees only area situated in the rear of the shop.

His jaw went slack, his eyes widened, and a bead of pre-cum ran down the burnished cap of his chastity as he peered into the well-lit studio. Alongside bolts of cloth, drafting tables, and a menagerie of sewing supplies, two ponies were vehemently going at it. Well, if nothing else, he now knew why the place reeked of slatternly activities.

With his hindquarters lifted and chest pressed to the floor, appearing only the slightest bit disheveled, Hoity was getting his ass absolutely pounded by a tall, well-built, snow white stallion. It took Pistachio a moment to recognize the stud, knowing he’d seen him somewhere before, but he had to clamp a hand over his muzzle to stifle a gasp when he did. Prince Blueblood - his boss was getting railed by none other than Prince Blueblood!

The scandal of discovering the noble wasn’t as straight as ponies thought was titillating, and the taboo scene only fanned the flames of his arousal. Blueblood was an exceptionally attractive stallion, was immensely wealthy, and had no small amount of political sway, yet those paled in comparison to his largest asset. Pistachio swallowed hard as he watched the royal’s thick, slate grey length pistoning in and out of Hoity’s clinging hole.

Backing away, he closed his eyes and averted his gaze. Why Hoity and a Prince had decided to have a fling so early in the morning was a mystery, and it left him at a crossroads. A more sensible stallion in his position would have quietly excused himself and pretended like he’d never gotten such a provocative eyeful, although the ache in his loins and envy begged him to reconsider.

As he begrudgingly went back to tend to his duties, not wanting to risk his internship over a peep show, inspiration struck him. He was the very picture of a maid, having all the trimmings, so wouldn’t it be expected that he would play the part? Turning and cantering to the stairwell as silently as he could, he beamed. Buck it - he might get in trouble, but it wasn’t like he’d get fired for trying to help ~ right?

Barging into his room, he gathered up a bottle of lube, his trusty dildo, a pair of butt-plugs, a few and a few rubbers before arranging the items on a silver platter he’d used for snacks the night prior. He couldn’t explain or justify what he was doing, unsure of what he intended to achieve, but his hormonally charged brain compelled him. At best, the pair downstairs might ask him to join them - at worst, he’d probably get a scolding and stern warning about intruding on other ponies’ business.

Going to leave, he faltered and eyed the set of plugs; Hoity likely wouldn’t need either of them, and he doubted Blueblood would want one, so he set the tray down, snatched up one of the toys, and brought it to his tush. If showing up with lewd accessories wasn’t good enough to show he meant business, traipsing in with a toy in his backside most definitely would. Motivated by his wanton desires, and keenly aware that he may be on the cusp of making a terrible mistake, he trotted out of his suite after stuffing the plug in his backside.

He made his way downstairs swiftly, not wanting the duo to finish before his bombastic introduction. Was he laying a lot on the line? Absolutely. Would the risk be worth it if he got to fool around with his boss and a Prince? Without a doubt. Approaching the entryway to the workroom, he took a breath to soothe his frazzled nerves, held his head high, and donned his most becoming smile.

Hoity and Blueblood froze as he traipsed in with his platter of playthings. They’d been right where he left them, doing it doggy style on an open area of the floor, although their expressions instantaneously shifted from passionate to stunned when they saw him. It was far too late to turn back, especially because of what he was carrying, and all he could do now was pray his impulsive little scheme worked out in his favor.

Feeling his face turning beet red, he cleared his throat and tried not to stare at the spectacle of Blueblood’s meaty shaft buried in Hoity’s rear. “E…excuse me, would you like some lube, sirs?”

The silence was deafening, pushing him to the verge of panic, and it was broken by something completely out of left field. Hoity broke into a chuckle, attempting to contain himself, while Blueblood facehoofed and smiled. He hadn’t been chewed out, for which he was thankful, although the older stallions’ amusement left him at a loss for words.

“I don’t believe we need any of those goodies of yours, although your services would - Nnnph,” Hoity grunted as Blueblood started thrusting into him. “A…as I was saying, feel free to make yourself useful.”

Seconds from Pistachio asking how he could make himself useful, Blueblood nodded downward and shot him a wink. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was expected of him. He’d never been involved in a threesome before - heck, he’d only ever gotten laid a grand total of two times before, but that wasn’t about to stop him.

Dashing over to a drafting table and setting down the platter, he hurried back to Hoity’s side and shoved his muzzle in the action. The musky bouquet filling his lungs, the sight of the two gorgeous stallions, the rhythmic plap plap plap of colliding bodies - they filled him with a determination like he’d never known. As he dipped his head and touched his tongue to Blueblood’s length, his taste buds went alight.

This was by far the kinkiest thing he’d ever done, and he’d only just gotten started! Putting his muzzle to work, he found himself torn between whom he should focus on. Blueblood definitely knew what he was doing, and was packing enough heat to make even the most experienced bottom squeal, but that didn’t mean Hoity didn’t deserve some affection.

Swiftly coming to a decision, he shifted his head to one side. Hoity was the entire reason he was in Canterlot, and he wouldn’t have been able to indulge in a ménage à trois without him - bearing that in mind, it was only fair that he service his mentor. He closed his eyes and groaned, savoring the sensation of velvety, stuffed pucker against his lips.

This was happening - this was actually happening! He’d only hoped to get some professional experience and maybe start making a name for himself in Canterlot, but he was getting much more than that. With his chastity cage leaking, he clenched and relaxed his backdoor around his butt-plug. One definite benefit of being under Hoity’s tutelage was that he’d learned he didn’t necessarily need his colthood to get off.

He’d only managed to do it once, just two nights before, but he’d successfully fucked the cum out of himself with his dildo. A combination of desperation, desire, and the nearly daily reminders that there were other ponies in the building getting some sensual satisfaction had pushed him to and beyond his limit. Milking the toy, he shuddered and bullied his tender p-spot.

There were only a hoofful of times in his life when he felt truly overwhelmed, like the time Ms. Rarity showed up at the family homestead, but his exchange trumped them all. He was younger, smaller, and less experienced than either Hoity or Blueblood, yet the duo hadn’t been upset with his intrusion - on the contrary, they’d let him participate!

Hearing a loud grunt, he peeked upward. For a Prince, the stud wasn’t holding anything back! As he watched the royal unicorn clench his teeth and falter, his bucking hips moving faster with every passing second, he came to a startling realization. Be it from luck, good timing, his inclusion, or some combination of the three, Blueblood was reaching his limit.

Pistachio reared onto his hind legs and locked lips with Blueblood. His kiss worked to startling effect in more ways than one. Not only did the Prince deeply kiss him, filling his muzzle with a thick, powerful tongue, but he could tell he’d sent the stud over the edge. Listening to blissful whimpers from Hoity, he swooned.

“Mmmmm,” Blueblood hummed into his snout before pulling away. “Hoity, you tramp, you didn’t tell me you had a new assistant.”

“H…he’s - Hnnngh,” Hoity rasped as he shakily stood and stepped forward, “he’s new and rather impetuous.” With a soft pop, he freed himself from Blueblood’s flared, slickened stallionhood. “Pistachio…”

Pistachio’s mouth instantly went dry. Hoity’s tone and demeanor had shifted and become stern - to make matters worse, judging by the stallion’s rigid cock, he hadn’t even climaxed from getting creampied. Easing himself down and onto his hooves, he timidly turned to face his mentor while keeping his eyes on the floor.

“Pistachio, let me start by saying that was excessively bold of you,” Hoity tutted, lifting and wagging one forehoof.

“S…sorry,” Pistachio muttered, unable to meet Hoity’s gaze.

Reaching out and drawing his forehoof under Pistachio’s chin, prompting the young stallion to look him in the eyes, he smirked. “I wasn’t finished, and neither are you. Be a dear and lay down on that drafting table for me. It’s time for another lesson…”

With his mouth agape, Pistachio stared at Hoity. Were his ears deceiving him? Had he just heard what he thought he heard? Blinking away his disbelief, he pursed his lips and glanced over to the table sitting just out of hooves reach against the wall. He’d just been given an order, even if it may not have meant what he presumed it meant, but he didn’t coolly trot over and do as he was told - no, he scrambled over and flung himself onto the sturdy wooden surface.

“Eager little thing,” Blueblood remarked with a snicker.

Nodding sagely, brushed himself off. “If nothing else, he certainly is that.”

Blueblood trotted around the table and loomed over Pistachio’s head. “And cute too. Was the cage -”

“My choice, yes,” Hoity huffed as he approached Pistachio’s hind legs. “I’d hoped it could curb some of his lecherous inclinations, but it seems to have backfired spectacularly.”

Bursting into laughter, Blueblood rose up and placed his forehooves to either side of Pistachio’s head. “Come now, Hoity, we both know that’s not true.”

One corner of Hoity’s lips turned up as he cleared his throat and brushed himself off. “Unfounded accusations aside, I believe we have something we should be doing…”

Pistachio looked back and forth between the two, watching the exchange in mute awe. Being talked about so casually was flattering, not for the least of which being Blueblood’s mention of him being cute, though he could scarcely pay attention to what they were saying - not because he didn’t enjoy the sweet-talk, but because of two much bigger, much more compelling issues. With a semi-rigid dick swaying just above his face, and a second, fully-erect cock beneath Hoity, it was obvious what sort of lesson he was about to be taught.

Peering down his chest as Hoity rose up and stepped between his hind legs, his eyes settled on his boss’ prolific stallionhood. Nearly as thick as his foreleg and almost as long, the couture’s endowment was anything but elegant. He suppressed a whimper as the plug was pulled from his hole. It was a darn good thing he’d used his toy last night, because it was all the warm-up he was going to get.

“Deep breath,” Hoity instructed, touching the tip of his length to the young stallion’s twitching hole.

Filling his lungs and breathing the earthy bouquet of Blueblood’s package, he whined and squirmed as the prodigious stallionhood was buried in his ass. Though he was tempted to relish the intense sensation of being penetrated, yearning to savor every glorious inch Hoity had to offer, he simply couldn’t - after all, there was another stud who’d been charitable enough to present his goods. While he lifted his head and kissed the Prince hefty, cum-filled coin purse, his head began to spin.

This was heaven, lavishing the flavors of spunk and ass off one massive dick while a second rearranged his insides, and he wouldn’t have changed a thing about it. Setting his fetlocks atop Hoity’s bucking hips, he needily milked his mentor’s shaft for all his worth. With no way of knowing if this would be the only time he got laid in Canterlot, he was going to make it count - by Celestia, he was going to make it count.

The trio were lucky that the store hadn’t opened yet, because they didn’t stay quiet for long. Hoity openly chatted about how good Pistachio felt, while Blueblood, after regaining a hard-on to swab the young stallion’s throat, did likewise. Paired with the choked gags and the table clattering against the floor, the sounds of their bliss gradually rose into a soft din.

Pistachio couldn’t tell what he must have looked like, pinned between the two charming stallions, yet the mental image of being claimed in such an obscene way hurtled him past the brink. As he quaked and sputtered around Blueblood’s dick, cum erupted from his chaste colthood. Though he’d had many orgasms before, and would likely have many in the future, the climax set a new rapturous standard.

Try as he might to bask in the pair’s vehement affection, it was impossible. He faded in and out of consciousness while he was taken from both ends. It wasn’t until he sensed an intense throbbing in his depths that he clawed his way back to the waking world. Hoity was about to cum and, if Blueblood’s pulsing length was any indication, he was going to get a creamy breakfast to top things off.

Just as he’d predicted, a split second after having the thought, Hoity and Blueblood finished. His eyes bulged and stomach gurgled as a two-fold influx of foal-batter surged into him. It was incredible, far better than anything his mind could conjure, though it came at a cost. As his vision faded and grip of reality waned, the dominant duo pulled back and unsheathed their cocks from him.

“You think we overdid it?” Blueblood mused?

Giving a small snort, Hoity trotted around and patted Pistachio’s cheek. “I don’t believe so. You alright?”

“G…guh,” Pistachio grunted.

“Once you’re tidied up, please join me in the shop. We’ve got actual work to do,” Hoity quipped, sauntering away with Blueblood at his side.

Pistachio peered up at the ceiling in a haze. He was covered in sweat and jizz, his gaped pucker was numb, and he was gonna be sore in the morning, but the euphoria of what he’d done made it all worthwhile. Languidly glancing at his distended, cum-swollen belly, he smirked. Yeah, this internship was definitely going to be very, very interesting from here on out…

Braeburn and Cow Ponies 2

Standing before the bathroom vanity, Braeburn looked down at the tube of lipstick in his trembling hoof. Sweat dotted his brow, his heart pounded in his bosom, and his thoughts were a jumbled mess of giddiness and anxiety. As he slowly exhaled and lowered his foreleg, he lifted his head to peer at his reflection.

The stallion that stood in the mirror was familiar but different in a number of ways. In place of his signature stetson, his golden locks had been fashioned and tied with bows into a pair of pigtails, and his attire was anything but his standard fare. Stockings, garters, a choker, and panties, all in a matching pink, clung tightly to his frame. He’d gotten himself gussied up plenty of times in the past, although never to this extent.

“Come on, Brae,” he whispered to himself, “you got this…”

Leaning forward, he pursed his lips to finish off his look. With blush, eyeliner, and even a hint of mascara already applied, he was nearly done with his preparations. More often than not, if he was about to get frisky with a stallion or two, he’d only bother with a quick shower and some prep work, cleaning and applying lube as needed, although this was a special occasion. With the last bit of his makeup on, he stepped back and bashfully smiled at himself.

He was as big of a bottom as a stallion could get, at most getting a reach-around from whomever was topping him in the heat of the moment - aside from that, it wasn’t like he’d ever had much to write home about in the dangly bit department anyways. His stallionhood was unimpressive to say the least, yet he actually preferred it that way. His eyes shifted, gliding over his back and to his hindquarters, while his smile met his eyes.

His biggest asset is, was, and always would be his backside. Simply put, he had a tush that was the envy of many mares. Big, curvy, and exquisitely supple, his caboose had plenty of cushion for the pushin’ - to the point where he’d inadvertently caused a few squabbles with couples before. Having your coltfriend eyeing-up somepony else was a sure-fire way to get yourself into a heap of trouble, but it was so, so much worse if said pony is a guy.

He snickered and shook his head as he recalled a moment that had contributed to him buying and donning his lingerie. It was just a week ago when he and Cormano had been out enjoying a bottle of sarsaparilla one afternoon. His friend, who’d been not-so-subtly trailing behind him while inspecting his goods, had casually remarked that he should try on something to elevate his marish qualities. He’d laughed it off at the time, thinking of it as nothing more than playful teasing, but that changed when they’d run into Happy Trails.

There were times in life when you were forced into a backseat, essentially given little say on something that was going on, and that’s precisely what had happened to him when his two friends had started to chat. Happy Trails had just returned from a trip to Manehattan, and he’d made a rather impulsive, rather expensive purchase for himself. Nearly everypony was familiar with video cameras, even in a backwater like Appleloosa, but it was the first time Brae or his buddies had ever had access to one.

In and of itself, a camcorder wasn’t anything all that special - having said that, Happy Trails and Cormano were elated to cook up a way to break in the piece of new-fangled technology. Brae had suggested making a video tour of the town, if only so they could learn how to work the thing, although his buddies quickly came up with another idea. While it may have been deliciously naughty, Cormano and Happy Trails had proposed making a porno.

Brae was all for making a naughty home movie, having actually dreamed about doing so before. Something about being filmed while having sex was decadently sinful, particularly because others could potentially see him in his element, but his friend’s idea involved much more than sex. Basically roped into the pair’s scheme, he was handed a hoofful of bits and told to buy some marish unmentionables for himself.

Gussying himself up was par for the course for him prior to an intimate evening, yet the idea of presenting himself like an honest to goodness mare had given him a moment for pause - alas, he hadn’t gotten much say in the matter. After getting instructions to meet up at Happy Trails’ place the next night, giving him a bit of time to make arrangements, he’d been shooed off to make arrangements while the dastardly duo conspired. While he’d been happy enough for the opportunity to check something off his bucket list, not to mention the chance to have another roll in the hay with the pair, he hadn’t anticipated how nervous he’d get when his time to shine finally came.

Knock knock knock

Brae turned and leered at the door behind him. “J…just a minute.”

“C’mon, Brae! The battery’s all charged up, we’re dyin’ to see how you look, and we even got some fancy candles to set the mood!” Happy Trails shouted.

Rolling his eyes, Brae sighed. Set the mood - that was hilarious. Cormano and Happy Trails were both good stallions, trustworthy and fun to be around, but romancers they were not - for buck’s sake, the scene they were going to shoot wasn’t even taking place in a bedroom! Seeing no reason to hold up the works, and determined not to chicken out, he threw a feather bola around his neck.

“Y’all get ready,” he hollered. “Ah’m gonna put on a little show before we get to the real spicy stuff.”

The pair outside didn’t reply, but the sound of hooves on hardwood floor, followed by what could only be the clop of a hoof-bump, let him know they’d done as he’d asked. Taking one final breath to steady himself, he held his head high and grinned. Ready or not, it was showtime.

With heavily-lidded eyes, he eased the door open and peered into the living room. Making a set out of a den was a questionable choice, but it was the best option they had available. Happy Trail’s bedroom was relatively cramped, Cormano lived with family, and he was not about to let them use his house for anything even remotely smutty - not after that one time when they thought it would be funny to load squirt guns with lube. As he strutted out with a sway in his hips, he grinned over at the camera’s glistening lens.

“Hey there, big colts,” he cooed, his voice lilting and delicate, “Ah heard you were wanting to have some fun.”

“Oh-ho ho yeah,” Happy Trails rumbled. “Been waiting for a sexy little mare like you to come by…”

Brae wavered and almost misstepped, though he was able to retain his composure. Why had Happy Trails said that? For whatever reason, despite being dressed as one, hearing somepony call him a mare was electrifying. Intrigued by the surprising dirty talk, he licked his lips and lazily approached the sofa.

Both Happy Trails and Cormano lounged at opposite ends of the couch while watching him intently. The remark about them dying to see may have been a slight exaggeration, although it was obvious that they were both ready and raring to go. With their stallionhood standing proudly at their groins, they nonchalantly stroked themselves off.

Nodding from one rock-hard cock to the other, Brae chuckled. “Getting that excited for me?” he quipped as she fanned her face with a forehoof. He could have stopped there, diving into the little show she’d cooked up for the event, but the compulsion to improvise was too strong. “Me oh my, y’all sure know how to make a m…mare feel special.”

His voice nearly cracked as the word rolled off his tongue. He loved all sorts of dirty talk, everything from tame stuff to being called a filthy slut, yet this was a first, and he liked it. Something about being called a mare simply felt right, though he couldn’t put his hoof on exactly why that was. Deciding to roll with it, he flipped his bola over one shoulder gusto.

“Y’all can call me Ginger - Ginger Gold,” he - rather she cooed.

Drinking in their awe-struck expressions, she spun, turned her tush to the camera, and slowly brought her chest to the floor. If her friends wanted a show, by thunder, they were going to get one heck of a show. Brae may have been slightly sheepish when it came to prancing about in intimate apparel, but it was a different story for Ginger.

Reaching back and running a forehoof up her hind leg, she softly pawed at the bulge in her panties. “Hope you colts don’t mind a mare with a li’l something extra…”

“N…not at all,” Cormano breathed.

Though Happy Trails remained silent, his actions spoke volumes. Pre-cum beaded at his cock-head, his stallionhood throbbed in his grasp, and he was drooling - actually drooling. It was a miracle that he was able to keep the camera steady and trained on her, but that could change at any instant.

Brae pulled her panties aside and revealed her glistening, pronounced pucker. Because of the repeated poundings she received, and her frequent use of toys, her entrance had grown considerably over the years. No longer a taut, crater-like hole, her backdoor was a silken, supple, and very accommodating ring of flesh.

Balanced on her chest, she slipped her panties down her hind legs. There was a fine line between burlesque and getting down to business, and the exhilaration of moving things forward was wearing at her. She’d intended on teasing the pair for a bit, although her desire to put her muzzle and ass to use were too strong to deny.

After she kicked off her panties, stood up, and sashayed to the couch, she gave a soft, seductive hum. “You fine cowponies have room up there for me?”

Cormano crammed himself into the corner of the sofa. “Y…yeah we do!”

“Darn right we do!” Happy Trails chuckled as he turned his back to the arm of the couch. “How’s about you come on up here and give us some lovin’, missy.”

She giggled while she eased herself onto the sofa and between the two. The decision on who she should wind up facing was simple. Seeing as how Happy Trails was the one with the camcorder, and taking into account how much effort she’d put into getting ready, it only made sense that she give him the lion’s share of her attention. Lowering herself down to the cushions, she peeked past his stallionhood and up to his face.

“Yeah,” Happy Trails rumbled, “bet you don’t see many this big down at the whorehouse ~ do you?”

While she had wrangled with stallions who were more endowed than Happy Trails, a fact that they both knew, his behavior made up for his only slightly above average size. Moments from telling him he was right, if only to keep up the act, she yelped then moaned as Cormano smacked her rear. Something had gotten into her friends, something that was making them far more assertive than they usually were, and she was going to knock on wood that they’d weren’t going to break character.

Tapping a forehoof to the base of Happy Trails’ length, smiled. “Lucky for you two, you called the best callmare in the house.”

A twisted grin crept across Happy Trail’s muzzle as he smacked his dick against her cheek. “Better get to work then, cutie, this cock ain’t gonna suck itself.”

“Yes, s…sir,” she murmured.

Lifting her head and running her tongue up the underside of his length, she wrapped her lips around the tip of his shaft. His scent and taste were both enough to get her fired up, but it was the camera and how gosh darn bossy he was being that really got her going. While she gradually worked him deeper into her snout, neither rushing nor taking too much time, her buns were prized apart.

“Take a look at that pussy,” Cormano mused. “Looks like it might be a tight fit, but good ol’ Trails and I are gonna fix that…”

She moaned around Happy Trails’ cock while flagging her shortly-trimmed tail. Yeah, she could definitely get used to being treated like this - or so she thought. In a flash and without any warning whatsoever, her head was fiercely pulled downward. Taken aback, and with her eyes watering from having her airway abruptly filled, she sensed something kiss her winking pucker.

Rising up and locking his forelegs over her hips, Cormano impaled her on his girthy length. “Buck yeah!”

Cormano’s stallionhood was fairly unique. While it wasn’t all that long, having just enough length to creep past somepony’s prostate, it was thick - like, incredibly thick. Whoever the poor fella ended up with romantically, be it a stallion or genuine mare, they were gonna be hard pressed to find satisfaction with anypony who wasn’t packing some serious heat.

Driven forward and back between the pair, Brae found herself at a loss. What started as a little joke, simply pretending to be a mare, had taken a surreal turn. She felt more feminine than she ever had, she was being treated like a cheap hooker, and things were only getting more intense as the minutes slipped by! She could completely understand why somepony would have thrown in the towel by now, having neither asked for nor foreseen how depraved her friends had become, yet she reveled in it.

Deep down inside, this - this was what she craved. She’d always adored when studs were rough with her, pulling on her mane or even talking down to her, and Happy Trails’ and Cormano’s zeal was the sort of thing she’d only ever dreamed of. Had she had any idea that all it would take to whip the pair into a frenzy was wearing something slutty and pretending to be some wanton strumpet, she would have done so ages ago!

Utterly enwrapt, she steeled herself and drove her head downward. Her efforts to please Happy Trails was rewarded with a laugh of approval and the removal of his hoof from her mane. This was hardly the first time she’d had a stallionhood clogging her airway, and she wasn’t about to let him have all the fun. She swabbed her throat like she’d been paid for it, only taking the smallest sips of air if and when she could, while Cormano ruthlessly plowed her ass.

“Tighten up, bitch,” Cormano growled while giving her tush a second, even harder smack.

She couldn’t see it, but she could feel her doughy backside wobble under the impact of his blow - pair that with the mascara running down her cheeks, and she was sure the film they were making would be a doozy and a half. With her eyes glazing over, mired in her bliss, she drew her hind legs under herself and hiked her waist up. Since she was getting railed like some wanton harlot, she may as well fully commit.

Throwing one foreleg over the sofa’s end, Happy Trails kept the camera trained squarely at her face. “Atta girl, don’t be shy - I mean, we both know why you’re doing this.”

“Y…yeah,” Cormano grunted, tightening his grip and angling his thrusts lower, “she wants us to put a - Nnnf - foal in her.”

Brae had been toeing the line of blowing her load, only holding herself back through sheer willpower alone, but the scandalous, frankly absurd notion of carrying somepony’s foal did her in. Shuddering violently, losing control of her limbs, she was consumed by an all-encompassing rapture that momentarily caused everything between the top of her head to the tip of her tail to go haywire. Her colthood jerked and spasmed, disgorging rope after rope of her essence, as her eyes wandered up and to the back of her skull.

She’d gone into this prepared to make an adult film, but she’d bitten off more than she could chew - and that was saying a lot. Even after being involved with threesomes, an orgy or two, and a couple times when she’d been trussed up with rope, being subjugated in such a way was mind-boggling. Rebounding from one climax and rocketing toward another, she was only vaguely aware of Cormano draping himself over her back.

“Give it here,” Cormano urged, reaching for the camera, “I wanna get a good money shot.”

Once he’d passed the contraption over to his accomplice, Happy Trails slipped his forehooves behind his head. “Hear that, Missy? You’re about to get your first fillin’ of the evenin’.”

Brae, despite her mental fog, constricted her battered hole around Cormano’s flaring stallionhood. Years upon years of self-indulgence had molded her, instilling her with reflexes that went beyond conscious thought, and her body responded to the promise of being bred. With the camera pointed squarely at her tush, capturing every second of her stud grunting and filling her with his essence, a tide of ecstasy washed over her.

Happy Trails snorted as he set his brow and extended his hoof. “Toss it,” he coughed. Catching the camcorder, he brought it down to her face. “Smile, sugar…”

She couldn’t have smiled if she tried, her muzzle filled with cock and barely listening to him. He’d been nearing his limit himself, his shaft throbbing and leaking pre-cum like a busted faucet, and his end couldn’t have come a second sooner. The hard smack on her rump barely registered, getting nothing more than a dull groan from her, as she gulped down mouthful after mouthful of Happy Trail’s cum.

Everypony fell still and breathed heavily while they rode out their bliss. Each of them was in dire need of a shower, the sofa was sullied with no small amount of sweat and jizz, and the house must have reeked of musky, hot sex, yet the satisfaction of making a dirty movie took precedence over the mess they’d made. Keeping their shafts buried in Brae’s face and hind end, Cormano and Happy Trails leaned in and clapped hooves.

“Hot dang, we’re gonna need to do this again,” Cormano whooped.

Happy Trails beamed as flicked began reviewing the film on the camera’s miniature screen. “Darn tootin’! Brae, you wanna do a brothel scene next? I reckon we can fancy up my room while you get your head together!”

Brae coughed and collapsed to the couch when the pair pulled their softening lengths from her. “Guh…hah…”

Trotting around to her side, Cormano cocked his head. “You think that’s a yes?”

“Good as any,” Happy Trails laughed. “You go see if you can find some rose petals. I’ll go get that fancy blanket I’ve got in the attic!”

Brae languidly watched as the pair parted ways and left her by her lonesome. She hadn’t signed up for more than one scene, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to move, much less put on much of a performance, although the notion of continuing her role as Ginger Gold brought a smile to her muzzle. If she was lucky, and had enough time to catch a second wind, she’d be glad to earn her place as the newest, most erotic star in all of Appleloosa…

Apple Brandy and Big Mac

Apple Brandy grunted, his muscles burning and straining under the immense weight of the cart he pulled. “Nnnngh.”

Even though Granny Smith and Apple Bloom couldn’t only do so much throughout the harvest season, mostly helping with packing bushels of apples or less strenuous work, their absence left a hole to fill. Brandy and Mac, her older brother, were left to do everything - everything on the farm, but he couldn’t be too upset. It wasn’t every day that Ms. Cheerilee coordinated a field trip, and she rarely asked for chaperones, so him and Mac would pick up the slack on their own.

Fortunately, Brandy had come up with a solution to help him with his toils. Zecora was renown for making all sorts of potions, ranging from the novel to the extraordinary, so he’d gone to her for a little pick-me-up. The good news was that the elixir he’d downed that morning had done the trick wondrously, giving him tons of energy and making him feel like a million bits - the bad news was that it seemed to have done more than just affect his performance.

Shaking his head, he crested a hill and set his sights on the family barn. He wasn’t going to let this get to him - nope, not even a little bit. Getting all fired up was all well and good - heck, it was actually pretty dang useful at times, but this was getting ridiculous! As he soldiered on, hauling the apple-laden cart behind him, his mood darkened.

Every stallion got distracted sometimes, their mind wandering to cute mares or ponies that struck their fancy, although it was like that dang elixir had dialed his sex-drive up to the extreme - sure, it probably didn’t help that he hadn’t gotten laid in forever, but that wasn’t an excuse. For the past several hours, he’d had nothing but juicy flanks and big, meaty tushies assailing his thoughts. As awkward as it was to be working while constantly distracted by his raging libido, there wasn’t a darn thing he could do about it.

Pulling the wagon into the cavernous structure, he slowed to a halt and began freeing himself. Without having anypony to unload the cart, he was going to have to deal with the job by his lonesome - to make matters all the more aggravating, there wasn’t anypony to undo the straps securing him to the darn thing. He grumbled as he shifted and fiddled breeches.

“Come on, you stupid…” he cursed.

This was fine - well, no, it wasn’t fine, but it was better than the alternative. The only pony around who could lend him a helping hoof was Mac, and he was glad that the big lug wasn’t around - not because he didn’t love his big brother, but because of that stupid potion. While he’d never breathed a word of it to anypony, he had some very questionable feelings about his older sibling - feelings that could and in all likelihood would put him in a sticky situation.

He faltered as an image of Mac pranced through his brain. It may have been a closely guarded secret that he found his brother attractive, although nearly everypony in Ponyville knew he was into stallions - specifically ones on the large size. Shivering and feeling blood surge to his loins, he snorted and set his jaw. Nope - he wasn’t about to let his imagination get the best of him, not again.

“There,” he huffed as he trotted out from between the shafts of the cart.

He could have - would have started unloading apples into baskets to bring into town that afternoon, although he needed to get his head on first. Cantering past the wagon and out of the barn, he shielded his eyes from the sunlight. Rinsing himself down with the hose would be just the ticket to cool him off in a literal and figurative sense - at least, that’s what he hoped.

Moving around to the side of the structure, he stumbled and nearly fell. Standing not a dozen paces away, holding a flowing hose over his head, was none other than Big Mac. The sight of the stallion glistening in the midday sun, looking like a centerfold in an issue of PlayMare, gave him a moment for pause.

Mac was a big stallion, being both taller and more heavily built than himself, and he was very, very easy on the eyes. The crimson coat, golden mane, and emerald eyes would have been enchanting enough in and of themselves, yet they were only a small part of the stud’s appeal. Everypony had their own opinion of what beautiful was - for Brandy, his brother was perfection made manifest.

Brandy licked his lips as his eyes danced over Mac’s adonic frame. Beefy? Check. The strong, silent type? Check. Sexy as all get-out? Oh buddy - yeah, that was a big check. Gazing longingly at his sibling’s massive, meaty flank, he swallowed hard. If Mac hadn’t been his kin - sweet Celestia, the things he’d do to…

A cold pit formed in his stomach when he realized Mac had stopped showering himself off. Falteringly turning his eyes up and over at his brother’s face, he froze. He’d been caught with his hoof in the cookie jar, eyeing up the stud like a delicious slice of apple pie, and he was going to have to act fast if he didn’t want to end up in hot water.

“H…hey there - Cough,” Brandy began, clearing his throat and buying some time to compose himself. “Hey there, Mac. Ah thought you was over in the other side of the orchard.”

Mac peaked a brow and glanced over his shoulder at a fully-loaded cart of apples. Shoot - how could he not have seen the dang wagon?! Pinching the bridge of his snout, Brandy hung his head. Great - now he’d just made himself look like an idiot.

“Well - heh - you need any help with getting it unloaded?” he asked. “Ah just pulled a cart into the barn myself. I figure we could get the job done quicker if…”

Brandy silenced himself by clamping a hoof over his muzzle. What in the world was he even saying?! The last thing he needed was to spend any time around the muscle-bound stud! Turning away, more than willing to take a brief, awkward exchange over his lustful imaginings, he yelped when a spray of cold water hit his backside.

“Hey!” he yelped, whirling around and leering at his brother. “You think that’s funny?”

Snickering to himself, Mac lowered the hose. “Eeeeyup.”

Simply hearing Mac’s sonorous tone was enough to send a thrilled jolt through Brandy. Mac didn’t say much, he never had and probably never would, but his voice was incredible. Shifting just enough to conceal his growing erection, he grimaced.

“Well knock it off,” he groused. “We got work to - w…what are you doin?”

As quiet as ever, Mac lumbered over and loomed above him. His mouth went dry, his pupils shrank, and he fought the urge to bolt as he peered up and into his brother’s eyes. He could lose himself in those big, gorgeous green saucers for days, but that would be courting disaster. Knowing he had to get away, lest his compulsions get the best of him, he took a small step back.

Mac pursued, inching closer as he went to retreat. Just as he went to ask his brother what he was doing, he drew a breath and shuddered. An alluring scent wafted to his nostrils that did nothing to hinder his taboo desires. As he warred against his forbidden lust, his mind short-circuited.

It was only when Mac listed to one side and looked beneath him, unquestionably at his stallionhood, that the faintest inkling of an insane notion hit him. He blinked and scrambled back in disbelief. This had to be a joke - that or he was misreading the situation.

“Quit horsin’ around,” he bleated, his voice wavering and unsteady. “It ain’t like ya haven’t seen me worked up before! Ah…Ah was just thinking about - uh - that cute fella I saw in town the other day - yeah, that’s it.”

With his eyes going half-lidded, Mac gave an amused snort and turned away. Brandy sighed weakly, immeasurably relieved that his torment was at an end, and rubbed a forehoof against his face. That had been way, way too close for comfort! If things had kept going the way they’d been going, he might have had a hard time explaining…

As he lifted his gaze, his eyes widened in shock. Mac hadn’t left or gone back to his cart - instead, he’d leaned forward, taken a broad stand, and swayed his massive rear from side to side. With his jaw on the floor, he stared at the most exquisite ass he’d ever seen. Of all the rumps in all of Equestria, his brother had to have one of the nicest - shoot, even the Princesses didn’t have as much cake as him!

Brandy’s stallionhood leapt to life, jerking up and smacking against his belly at the impeccable view. He would have given anything - anything to do more than just look at her brother’s fat, fuckable ass. Squinting and dipping his head, he spotted Mac’s rigid length. Fooling around and picking fun at one another wasn’t all that uncommon between them, but getting a boner out of nowhere sure as heck was.

Tearing his eyes off Mac’s tush, he wiped sweat from his brow. “If y…you don’t cut it out, I’d think you was tryin’ to rile me up.”

“Eeeyup,” Mac murmured as he reached back and spread his pillowy buns apart.

Ok - hold the buck up. While Brandy could forgive his brother for pretending to seduce him, this sure didn’t feel like any sort of an act. Gawking at Mac’s plump, twitching pucker, he inched forward. It would have been a tall order for him to figure out if this was a charade or not, although there was one way he could test it.

Reaching out, he slid a forehoof up the back of Mac’s thigh. “Hah! Bet’cha didn’t think ah’d - Nnf?!”

Mac rocked his hips back and buried Brandy’s face in his backside. “Nnnope!”

“Hnnm nf hph?!” Brandy’s response was muffled entirely by Mac’s rump.

The second he drew a breath, filling his lungs with the earthy, sweaty musk covering his brother, it was all over. His heart pounded away in his bosom, his libido went hog-wild, and his cock throbbed with anticipation. This wasn’t some game, nor was it a jest of any sort. Though he couldn’t wrap his head around it, Mac wanted this.

Still on the fence, clinging desperately to what little common sense he had left, Brandy reared back. “Is…is this because Granny and Bloom are gone for the week?”

“Eeeyup!” Mac enthusiastically chirped.

“A…and,” Brandy continued, “you were plannin’ on getting - Ahem - some lovin’ from me this whole time?”

Mac nodded while peeking over his shoulder. “Eeeyup!”

To Tartarus with it - Brandy had been given the go-ahead, he was hornier than a three-peckered billygoat, and he was so hard that it hurt. Without the slightest bit of hesitation, he dove in and hotly made out with Mac’s ass. What Granny and Apple Bloom didn’t know wouldn’t kill them, and he wasn’t going to say anything if Mac kept his big mouth shut about the intimate sibling bonding.

He could tell that Mac had plotted for something like this. The distinct yet subtle tang of lube mingled with sweat on his tongue, driving him wild with lust. He’d longed for this for years, ever since he’d been a little colt, and now he was turning his fantasies into a reality.

Never in a thousand years would he have guessed that his brother was so kinky, normally being stoic and hard to read, but hearing Mac definitely knew what he was doing. Deeply kissing the big bottom’s rear, he moaned and ran his tongue around the soft, velvety pucker pressed to his lips. The taste was incredible, masculine without being overpowering, and he knew - knew it would feel fantastic clamped around his cock.

The thought of actually getting to rut his brother was as insane as it was sinful. He couldn’t count how many times he’d fantasized about Mac while he was plowing the heck out of one of those flimsy sex-toys they sold down at Barnyard Bargains, but those times were a thing of the past. So long as he performed well enough, he was absolutely, positively sure that the two of them would be sneaking off to fool around behind Granny’s back.

Pulling back with a soft pop, he smack’s Mac’s ample behind. “Bet you love that ~ don’tcha?”

“E…eeeyup,” Mac whimpered.

“Yeah you do,” Brandy snickered as he pulled on his brother’s tail. “Ah reckon ya probably always wanted your little brother to rut you ‘til you was trottin’ funny ~ huh?”

Mac’s tail tried to flag while he glanced back. “Mm-hmm.”

Brandy was going to draw this out, testing the waters and seeing if his theory about Mac was true, but hearing the desire in his brother’s voice was the final nail in his coffin. Pulling away and rearing onto his hind legs, he locked his forehooves over his brother’s hips. As he thrust forward and sheathed his length, the breath hitched in his throat.

Mac didn’t feel good - no, he felt absolutely fantastic. Just snug enough to firmly grasp his stallionhood, without being so tight as to be uncomfortable, the crimson stud’s pucker was a dream come true. Humping away without a care in the world, Brandy closed his eyes and sought to get into a comfortable position.

It may have been his imagination, but that elixir he’d gotten seemed to double as one heck of an aphrodisiac. Though his muscles were already sore and worn from the work earlier that morning, he was brimming with energy. If somepony had told him he’d end up rutting the heck out of his brother that day, he would have dismissed the absurd notion on the spot - nevertheless, that’s just what fate had held in store for him.

While he gradually dialed up the intensity of his thrusts, beating his hips against Mac’s rearward plunges, a nagging issue began wearing at him. The sex was awesome, easily the best he’d ever had, but it wasn’t quite perfect - luckily, he had a solution that would kill two birds with one stone. Looking over and spying a disused crate resting against the side of the barn, he firmly smacked his brother’s ass.

“Hold up for a sec,” he breathed. Pulling out, he rushed over to the wooden box and tipped it over. “C’mon over and get comfy, big fella.”

Mac nodded as he got to his hooves, scampered to the crate, and threw himself upon it. His presentation was immaculate, resting his tush on the sturdy wooden box while holding his fetlocks in his forehooves, and it left nothing to be desired. One small drawback of railing a stallion as big as him was that most ponies would struggle to mount him from behind - a problem that was solved by propping his hind parts on the sturdy container.

Leaping onto Mac, Brandy picked up where he’d left off with flourish. Now with a view of his brother’s face, getting to see the stud’s beautiful eyes and blushing features, his lecherous desires took over him. He’d tried - oh how he’d tried to restrain himself to make the moment at least slightly romantic, but his passion would not be denied.

He grunted and snarled as he lost himself to his rut-lust. This wasn’t simply sex, this was breeding. Every deep plunge caused Mac’s belly to bulge outward slightly, the steady plap plap plap of his balls against his brother’s ass rang in his ears, and the taut, fleshy ring clinging to his pistoning length quivered wildly. No matter what he did, even if he bit his tongue or tried to distract himself, there was nothing he could do to hold himself back.

His balls tensed and snuggled up to his groin, preparing to unleash their load, while he clamped his eyes shut and raged against the inevitable. The longer he could hold out, the more he’d cum - the more he’d cum, the deeper he’d mark Mac as his mate. Mate - the word resonated in his mind, evoking all manner of depraved thoughts and inclinations.

“Y…ya like that,” he snarled, peeking downward while he demolished his brother’s p-spot. “Gonna make you - Holy…”

Mac quietly mewled, stifling himself by holding his forehooves to his muzzle, while jizz oozed and weakly gushed from his tremendous cock. The sight and hushed sounds of making his brother climax undid him on an existential level. He’d always wondered what it would take to get his sibling off, and now he had his answer.

Taking Mac’s hind hooves and driving them to either side of his head, Brandy drove his brother into a mating press and pulled out all the stops. Now that he’d quite literally fucked the cum out of the big lug, he could finally get some satisfaction himself. As he hammered away and skyrocketed toward his release, Mac craned his neck and kissed him.

The passionate gesture was the finishing blow. Hotly making out with Mac, he came - he came harder than he ever had before. Shot after shot of virile spunk raced through his throbbing, flared stallionhood, painting the stud’s depths with his essence, while he lost himself to a maelstrom of ecstasy.

Time passed, their bodies grew still, and yet their kiss endured until they’d both ridden out their orgasms together. Pulling away and locking eyes, they both smiled, then snickered and broke into laughter. What they’d done was absolutely absurd, and it would get each of them into no small amount of trouble if anypony found out about it, but they were happy.

“Dang,” Brandy cursed as he shuffled back and released Mac’s legs. “If’n you’d told me you were wantin’ some lovin’ like that, ah would have - hold up,” he muttered, spying something odd on his brother’s distended belly. “Mac, ah didn’t know you had a tattoo.”

Mac peered down at himself and cocked his head in confusion. Emblazoned upon his lower abdomen, below his navel and above his groin, was a strange, stylized heart. Brandy thought the thing was pretty cute, if not kind of silly, and momentarily wondered if it was something temporary Mac had gotten for the occasion.

“Personally, if’n you was tryin’ to get me riled up, I would’ve gone with a tramp stamp,” Brandy joked. Stepping around to Mac’s side, he offered a forehoof. “C’mon, let’s get cleaned up, grab a bite to eat, then get back to work. If we finish up quick enough, maybe we can go another round before we both conk out tonight.”

Though he nodded and took the proffered hoof, Mac’s eyes lingered on the mark on his stomach. Poor fella - he was probably so dang cum-drunk that he forgot he’d put the thing on himself! As Brandy helped him up and stuck to his side, making sure he didn’t lose his balance, he couldn’t help but think where the peculiar sigil had come from and what it was supposed to mean…

Butterscotch and Bubble Berry

Hearing raucous cheers and a din of voices, Butterscotch slowed. He’d long since gotten over his fear of coming into town, having befriended everypony in Ponyville over the years, yet the sound of a crowd, regardless of the exact circumstances, never failed to put his nerves on edge. He turned and glanced over his shoulder, back at the bridge he’d just crossed that led into town, then closed his eyes, slowly exhaled, and continued onward.

“Scotch!” a voice blared, causing him to start and setting his hair on end.

In a blink, faster than what should have been possible, a blur of pink charged him. He’d known what was coming, realizing he was about to get tackled or possibly even knocked over, yet the affectionate assault struck with blinding speed. Nearly driven off his hooves, he only barely managed to remain upright as he was embraced by one of his oldest, most cherished friends.

“I’m so, so, so glad you came!” Bubble Berry bleated, burying his face in Butterscotch’s neck. Backing away as quickly as he struck, he conspiratorially squinted up and at the buttery yellow pegasus’ face. “You weren’t gonna chicken out ~ were you?”

“I - um…” Butterscotch murmured. Sensing his cheeks darken, he averted his gaze.

Lying to anypony, not the least of which being Bubble, would be a fruitless endeavor. Everypony who’d ever met him quickly realized how bashful he was, and he’d long since learned to deal with that immutable, if not slightly embarrassing fact. As Bubble leaned over to look him in the face, the corners of his lips turned up.

Smiling broadly, Bubble inched closer. “What’s that? Is that a smile?! Don’t tell me somepony is happy to be here?!”

“I…I am,” Butterscotch relented.

He’d spoken the truth, he was excited to attend the event, yet the nature of the occasion had him extraordinarily anxious. While he wasn’t ashamed of his sexual preferences, he’d never once, not a single time in his life, partaken in any pride festivities - that was, until today. After years and years of polite requests from his fellow Elements of Harmony, and outright begging from Bubble, tentatively agreed to take part in the celebration of acceptance.

Taking a step back and opening his mouth, fully intent on thanking his friend for the invitation, Butterscotch felt the breath hitch in his throat. Bubble was the same as he’d always been, having a poofy pink mane and tail, being only slightly pudgy, and happy-go-lucky as all get-out, although it was what he was wearing that gave him a moment for pause. As he looked his companion over, his mouth went dry.

Ponies didn’t normally wear anything whatsoever, excluding the smallest accessories or accouterments, yet Bubble was done up from head to hoof. Wearing a matching top and booty shorts, each yellow with blue highlights, earrings, and a bracelet of rainbow beads, the stallion was completely decked out. As if the attire wasn’t jarring enough, the party pony of renown had a pride flag painted on one cheek.

“Ya like it?” Bubble excitedly asked, tapping a forehoof to the side of his face. “There’s a super-duper cool stallion giving them out around the corner! If you want one, I’m sure he’d love to paint you up!”

Butterscotch shied back, only then realizing the egregious miscalculation he’d made. Pride events were a momentous occasion, a time when stallions and mares gleefully cut loose and embraced their sexuality, so it stood to reason that they flaunt their romantic preferences. The more he thought about it, the more uneasy he became - the more uneasy he became, the more it dawned on him that he’d likely end up being the odd pony out.

Taking Butterscotch by the forehoof, Bubble turned and pulled his friend along. “C’mon! If we hurry up, there might not be a line!”

“O…ok,” Butterscotch wheezed.

As he was let deeper into town and towards all the commotion, his heart and thoughts began to race. He didn’t want to say this was a mistake, but the mere idea of being around so many excited, loud stallions was stressful - worse still, he hadn’t worn anything for the occasion. Hauled around a corner and closer to the town square, he dug his hooves into the earth and stiffened.

Everypony - everypony in attendance had something to commemorate the occasion. Be it something as subtle as a pin, face paint, or even exceedingly flamboyant flags or feather bolas, the stallions and mares who’d gathered were more colorful than ever! Butterscotch could and had dealt with plenty of hairy situations in his life, although this was too much - way, way too much.

Fighting against Bubble’s grip, he sighed and hung his head. “I’m…I think I should go.”

Bubble whipped around and stared at him, aghast by the proclamation. “B…but why?!”

“It’s just…” Butterscotch trialed off as he pinched the bridge of his snout. “I’ll stand out like a sore hoof…”

“I mean, yeah!” Bubble guffawed. “Just look at you! Those bangs, that pretty face of yours, and those big, juicy flanks! Scotch, you won’t just stand out, you’ll be the center of attention!”

Butterscotch opened his mouth and held up a hoof, fully prepared to insist he didn’t want to be picked on by the other gay stallions in town, but he remained still and silent. It was true that he was a bit gifted in the caboose department, and he was also regularly complimented on his luscious mane, although that didn’t mean ponies would like how he looked ~ did it? With a startled squeak, he glanced over as Bubble shot to his side.

“Like, ok,” Bubble giggled while shamelessly pawing at Butterscotch’s hindquarters, “have you seen these?! Scotch, I swear, if stallions actually knew how naughty you could be, you’d be limping around the animal sanctuary all the time!”

“T…that’s not true,” Butterscotch weakly stammered.

He was immeasurably grateful that Bubble wasn’t able to see his pucker excitedly winking and seizing upon itself. Though he wouldn’t openly admit it, it was the worst kept secret in Ponyville that he was a total butt slut - to the point where, coincidentally enough, he’d rutted his brains out on his favorite sex-toy the night prior! He pinned his tail and brushed a lock of hair away from his face while keeping his hooves crossed that his blush wasn’t as bad as he thought it was.

With a sly grin splitting his muzzle, Bubble leaned in. “If it’s not, you shouldn’t have anything to worry about by showing your face.”

Understanding Bubble as well as he did, Butterscotch shudderingly exhaled. “Ok, but I m…might not stay for that long. As long as -”

“Woo-hoo!” Bubble whooped as he threw a forehoof into the air. Scampering around, he pressed himself to Butterscotch’s side and led the way. “We are gonna have so much fun!”

As he trotted along, gradually moving past stallions and mares alike, Butterscotch risked the periodic glance around himself. It looked like everypony was having a good time chatting, dancing, or simply goofing around, and seeing them all brought a genuine smile to his face. He constantly had to remind himself that he didn’t have anything to worry about by being around others, only being seen as a hero and a respected member of the community in general, but it was hard at times.

Slowing by a small queue that led to a stand, presumably for the pony doing body painting, Bubble whipped around to face Butterscotch. “So what are you gonna get? A flag? Maybe a peace symbol? Or - Oh!” he chirped. Shooting forward, he caressed his friend’s flank. “Maybe a little sign that says ‘wide load’…”

“B…Bubble,” Butterscotch cawed, shifting his rear away from the overly-energetic stallion, “I c…could never do that!”

Bubble nodded sagely and rubbed his chin. “You’re right…” he mumbled. Without any warning whatsoever, he reared onto his hind hooves, rested his chest against Butterscotch’s haunch, and prized his friend’s buns apart. “You should have ‘size queen’ put on this bad colt!”

Squeaking in surprise, Butterscotch peeked over his shoulder as his rump was put on full display. Having his backside shown off in such a brazen fashion would have been mortifying enough, but it was the fact that his pucker was clearly visible to anypony and everypony who so much as looked in his direction that petrified him. With hushed whispers and snickers creeping to his ears, he gulped.

Oh buck - oh no! His unexpected bit of exhibitionism, paired with Bubble’s bombastic nature and utter lack of shame, turned a great many eyes upon him. Some stallions smiled, others eyed him hungrily, and a couple cat-called or whistled at him, although they all had one thing in common. Hanging beneath the studs gathered around were a myriad of rapidly hardening stallionhoods.

Butterscotch’s mind went haywire as his eyes darted from one pair of tented shorts to the next. They weren’t getting worked up just because of him ~ were they? His booty wasn’t that tempting ~ was it? Grappling with the unexpected and wildly sinful circumstances, he went wide-eyed when Bubble spread his cavernous hole.

“Good enough to eat!” Bubble exclaimed.

“Since you offered…” an unmistakable voice proclaimed.

Peeking past his tail, Butterscotch watched a familiar figure approaching him from the rear. Rainbow Blitz, the Element of Loyalty and one of her oldest friends, trotted forward while hungrily licking his lips. Though they’d grown up in Cloudsdale together, and had known each other since they were colts, there were several crucial differences between himself and the cocky, cocky flier - chief amongst which being Blitz was a very assertive top.

“Nothing like kicking off a party with a bang!” Bubble shouted. Peering over to Butterscotch’s face, he cocked his head. “You don’t mind ~ do you?”

“I…” Butterscotch croaked. This was a pivotal moment, one that could mark him walking away with his innocence intact or diving into the depravity that most pride events eventually shifted into, and he wasn’t going to miss out on the fun - not again. Timidly nodding before he could second-guess his impulsiveness, he gave the green light. “N…not at a…all…”

“Heck yeah!” Bubble cheered. “Happy pride month, everypony!”

Blitz was too excited to wait or was looking to put on a show - in either case, he dived in and started making out with Butterscotch’s behind like it was the last meal he’d ever eat. The enthused muttering of the crowd grew louder as they drew closer. Regardless of how the event had started, things had quickly taken a bawdy turn.

Butterscotch stifled a pleased groan while he unwittingly bucked back against Blitz’s muzzle. It was hardly the first time they’d fooled around, and it most certainly wouldn’t be the last, but that was exactly why his reluctance was being eclipsed by his libido. With his eyelids fluttering, he blinked when a big, pink rump swung in front of his face.

“Wanna warm me up?” Bubble cheerfully asked.

To Tartarus with it - ponies were probably going to end up getting frisky at some point or another, so he may as well help lead the way. Resting one forehoof on Bubble’s hip, he closed his eyes and kissed his way up to his friend’s entrance. As he gradually succumbed to his libido, already looking forward to what Blitz had to offer, his inhibitions waned.

Though he couldn’t easily see what the gathering was up to, he could sure as heck hear that he wasn’t the only one having fun. Soft moans, sinful promises, and muted gags crept to his ears while he dragged his tongue over Bubble’s hole. Had somepony told him he’d end up getting frisky in front of an audience, he would have shaken his head in disbelief - nevertheless, in spite of his meek nature, that’s precisely what had ended up happening.

Pulling back with a soft pop, Blitz licked his lips and stepped to the side. “Move over, Bubble.”

“Okey-dokey!” Bubble joyfully replied.

Butterscotch turned his eyes to the ground, crestfallen and a bit confused as to why Blitz had only rimmed him for such a short period of time, although his spirits lifted when he looked up and watched the prismatic-maned stud trot up from his side. Swinging beneath his friend was a turgid, deep-blue length that made his mouth water. His booty had been an appetizer, and now he was going to get an opening course of his own.

Grinning from ear to ear, coming to a stop between Butterscotch and Bubble, Blitz waved the stallions forward. “Don’t be so darn shy, Scotch! If you do a good enough job at warming me up, I might just do that thing you like…”

The promise of that thing he liked, essentially having his ass jackhammered at the speed of sound, would have been enough to inspire Butterscotch to do anything the prismatic stud wanted, although an unexpected element quickly entered the mix. Dipping his head and going to show Blitz’s dick some love, too turned on to care about the audience, he was greeted by Bubble’s smiling face. He’d never done anything naughty in public, nor had he ever had a threesome, but those weren’t enough to stop him from some tandem cock-worship.

While he’d fully intended on licking Blitz’s length by his lonesome, the idea of doing it with a friend was thrilling - in fact, it was enough to make him snicker. Shuffling forward, he all but made out with Bubble around the well-hung pegasus’ shaft. The taste of sweat dancing on his tongue, the smell of musk, the sensation of velvety flesh against his lips - they were all incredible and made all the sweeter by having a friend to enjoy them with him.

Having seen a few pictures in dirty magazines about a trio of stallions having a fling together, he had a pretty good idea of how he must have looked. Two stallions worshiping a third was hotter than all get-out, and the spectators were enwrapt by the show. Cheered on and lavished with praise, he confidently flagged his tail and gave his tush a little shake.

“Woah woah woah!” Blitz hummed, causing Butterscotch to withdraw and peak a brow. “Don’t know what you’re thinking, pal, but he’s mine.”

Butterscotch turned his head and discovered a stallion undressing behind him. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the intrepid pony had been moments from mounting him, although Blitz had made it clear that he wasn’t going to settle for sloppy seconds. With a wing gently pressed to the back of his head, was forced lower to the ground.

Stepping over Butterscotch’s head, Blitz leveled his length at the soft-spoken stallion’s face. “Here ya go…”

Butterscotch extended his tongue as Blitz slid into his opening muzzle. A part of him wanted to stop, to canter back to the solitude of his house, but a larger, far stronger part of him was enthralled. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined doing something so audacious - still, he’d crossed a line, and there was no turning back.

Cracking one eye open, he noticed Bubble was in the same situation as himself. Sucking one stallion off while a second fondled his package from behind, the vibrant earth pony was in his element. Snapping from his stupor with a stifled gag, he relaxed his throat when Blitz started thrusting.

The face-fucking he received wasn’t the roughest Blitz had ever given him, although it definitely wasn’t what he’d call tender. Plunging in and out of his gullet, the girthy length choked him of air and made his eyes water - that being said, to say he was turned on would be an understatement. His stallionhood ached as it leaked drops of pre-cum do the ground beneath him, and he swiftly reached a point where he’d kill for some relief himself.

Seconds stretched into minutes and longer still while Blitz bucked harder and faster. Though he was in no position to complain, he hoped he wasn’t going to end up getting a messy facial or load pumped down his throat - not because he wouldn’t enjoy it, but because he’d much rather get bred properly. When he began flexing his groin and beating his dick against his belly, his best and only way to get any stimulation without using his wings, a harsh laugh came from above.

Stepping back and hauling his length free, Blitz shook his head and chuckled. “Jeez - I knew you were horny, trotting around and showing yourself off like that, but I didn’t know you had it that bad,” he teased. As he trotted around Butterscotch, he motioned with a wing. “Bubble, keep his mouth busy for me!”

Moments from asking what the request meant, Butterscotch watched Bubble creep out from beneath the stallion he’d been blowing, hop over to him, and lean forward. While a weight settled on his back, and a pair of forelegs locked over his ample hips, his heart pounded in his chest. Leaning in and closing his eyes, he locked lips with Bubble as they were both mounted and plowed.

The passionate kiss was the perfect accompaniment for the thick stallionhood pistoning in and out of his upturned tush, a note of sweetness against the intensity of being rutted. Softly moaning into Bubble’s snout, he was driven forward and back and Blitz’s thrust. Of the small hoofful of ponies he’d ever had sex with, the one atop him was by far his favorite.

Blitz knew exactly what he liked, and he wasn’t afraid to show him a good time. Giving as good as he got, he tightened his pucker to milk the stud’s length. At the rate things were going, he wasn’t going to be able to last long. As his eyes rolled back, the grip on his hips tightened.

“Just gotta…” Blitz mumbled, slowing and repositioning himself ever so slightly.

The moment Blitz launched his full assault, rutting him at a breakneck pace, he came. Jizz sailed from his pulsing length, spattering the street under him and even painting his belly. It was a phenomenal climax, easily one of the strongest he could remember having, and he didn’t share it alone. Bubble howled into his muzzle, quaking from head to toe as he was driven past the threshold right alongside him.

Lightheaded from the incredible orgasm, he locked his hind legs while Blitz went all out. One small drawback to being screwed so vigorously was that it often took a toll on both parties, and this time was no exception. After what couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, he sensed the stallionhood in his depths pulse and flare.

“B…buck,” Blitz growled, shuddering as waves of seed surged through his shaft and into Butterscotch. Heaving air into his chest, he caught his breath, dismounted, and gave his friend’s rump a playful smack. “Alright, colts, now you can have your turn with him!”

Butterscotch had barely recovered from his rapture when a second stallion hopped up and took Blitz’ place. Bubble was in the same boat as he was, his stud jumping off as soon as he’d finished while a second stallion got ready to get a piece of the action. Smiling anxiously, he giggled alongside his friend.

“Best pride event ever?” Bubble expectantly pressed.

Giving a faint nod, Butterscotch met Bubble’s eyes. “B…best pride event ever…”

He must have looked terrible, disheveled and railed out while a queue of ponies lined up to get their dicks wet with him, but that wasn’t important - what was important was that he’d stepped outside his comfort zone and was having fun doing so. Maybe he’d end up being bolder because of this, or perhaps he’d fall back to his old, sheepish ways - regardless of what the results would be, he was glad Bubble had invited him. Summoning his strength and bucking back to meet her newest stud’s thrusts, he wondered just how many ponies were going to have their way with him…