Saddle Up, 2024

“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…