Zebra Anthology

Scootaloo yawned and lazily pushed herself up, awoken in her bed by the sun creeping in through the open doorway of her hut. The warm, dry air was a far departure from what she was used to in Equestria, but that was far from a bad thing - especially considering where she was. Noticing a figure walk past outside, she smiled and ground her thighs together.

Yeah, visiting Zebrica was just what the doctor had ordered. She could sleep in as late as she wanted, the food was insanely good, and the dick - sweet mercy, she was practically swimming in big, meaty zebra cock. Since she’d arrived a week ago, coming with Sweetie to experience the culture, not a single day had gone by when she hadn’t been plowed by at least one of the tribe’s studs.

Looking to her left, she smiled down at her latest conquest. She hadn’t the slightest idea what the big lug’s name was, what he did for a living, or if he was single or not, but none of those things mattered. They’d exchanged a few words the night prior, she’d flashed her tits, and bam - the next thing she knew, he had her folded like a pretzel and was rutting her brains out. As she felt his essence leaking from her battered marehood, she glanced over and frowned.

Sweetie Belle’s empty bed rested at the opposite side of the hut. Ordinarily speaking, she could excuse her friend for disappearing for a night of fun, although this was the third morning in a row where her friend had been absent. She pushed herself up and quietly stretched, twisting in place to loosen up, before bending over and fetching a pair of shorts and crop top from her duffel bag.

While wasn’t necessarily worried about her partner in crime, not for the least of which reasons being they’d brought a camera crew with them to document their erotic exploits, this was getting ridiculous. Her first and best assumption was that Sweetie had found a particularly domineering stud to play with, the type of stallion who’d dragged her back to his home for an extended stay, but that raised a concern in and of itself. If her assumption she was right, her friend should have come to get her for a threesome!

Seeing herself out and into the open air, after getting dressed, she shielded her eyes and scanned the village. The tribe they were staying with wasn’t the biggest, but it was large enough to make finding someone a bit difficult. Seeing a pair of zebras heatedly chatting and pointing at a basket of fruit, seemingly in a discussion, she trotted over and waved.

“Sup,” she began, drawing their attention. “Have either of you seen Sweetie?”

The duo went quiet and looked at her in confusion. One of the more frustrating things about being in Zebrica was that not everyone spoke ponish, making even simple communication a bit of a trial - sure, it was easy enough to show some skin and get the point across that you wanted to get some action, but that didn’t help her with hunting someone down. She extended her index finger and held it to her forehead, making a crude approximation of a horn to get her point across.

“Sweetie,” she repeated. “She’s a pony like me - well, minus the wings.”

To her mercy, one of the two stallions seemed to understand what she was trying to convey. Turning and pointing to a particularly large structure, the biggest one in the village, he smiled down at her. If she wasn’t on a quest to find her missing friend, she would have shown her gratitude in the best way she knew how - sadly, at least for the time being, he’d have to wait and hope that she could find and recognize him later.

Sauntering away, she flicked her tail and winked back at him. “Thanks, hot stuff.”

While she casually trotted to her destination, her thoughts absently wandered. Surprisingly enough, it hadn’t been her or Sweetie’s idea to come to Zebrica - it had been Rarity’s. She’d seen mares develop a love for exotic studs - hell, Sweetie and herself were hooked on the big bastards so badly that they’d practically cornered the market on striped porn, but the couture was on an entirely different level. All it had taken was a single serving of zebra cock for the Element of Generosity to give up her business and foal-factory for the big bastards.

She chuckled at the thought of Rarity. The designer, much like Apple Bloom, had gleefully gotten herself knocked up and was well on her way to becoming a single mom - something she’d been giving more and more thought about recently. Seeing as how she wasn’t getting any younger, and that there were plenty of nubile little mares who’d joined the adult entertainment industry as of late, maybe she should lay off the contraceptives and get a bun in her oven.

Laughing, she shook her head and started up the stairs to the central lodge. She knew it wasn’t a matter of if she’d give up her acting career, hanging up the fishnets in exchange for a home-life, but that was a way off. For the time being, so long as the check and fat cocks kept rolling in, she was going to live her life without being tied down to anything or anyone! As she approached the entryway and the beaded curtain separating her from the building’s interior, an all too familiar sound crept to her ear.

The muted gags and hushed, sinful whimpers drifting outside were unmistakable. She could recognize the sound of Sweetie sucking a dick, having worked with her buddy for the better part of two years, and the soft racket gave her a moment for pause. Though she didn’t care about barging in and interrupting an intimate moment, there was a darn good chance that whatever lewd hijinks were transpiring were being filmed.

She lifted a hand and stealthily crept through the beaded curtain, taking care to be as silent as possible, and froze. Her assessment had been right, Sweetie was choking herself on a stud, but certain details of the obscene scene caught her eye. For starters, the unicorn was blowing the tribe’s chieftain, a mountain of mountains amongst the zebras he commanded - secondly and more curiously, her friend’s attire was anything but typical.

More often than not, she and Sweetie would have to strip down to get nasty with someone, regardless of who it was or where they were going to pound town. They’d make concessions to their wardrobe on occasion, usually if they were shooting a film with a theme or something silly like that, which may explain why her buddy was wearing a garter belt, bridal veil, leggings, arm socks, and not a darn thing else. Left to presume she’d walked in on some sort of lewd wedding scenario between the chief and his newest concubine, she bit her lip and ground her thighs together.

“She’s quite devoted, is she not?” a deep, rich whisper inquired.

Scootalloo whipped around and craned her neck up at the titan standing just behind her. Definitely on the bigger side of zebras, even compared to his impressively built striped kin, the colossus smirked and coolly eyed her over before motioning to the door. Whoever he was, he could obviously communicate with her, had some idea of what was going on, and was considerate enough not to interrupt the ongoing film-making - that and he was pretty fucking hot to boot.

Once she’d followed him out, she folded her arms over her modest tits and cocked her hips to one side. “Heck of a setup they’ve got going on in there. Honestly, I’m a little jealous that I didn’t think of the wedding angle with the chief.”

“Angle?” the titan countered.

“Yeah, the whole ‘I’m going to marry the chieftain and give him an heir’ shtick,” she giggled.

He knit his brow and gave a small snort at her assertion. “It’s not a shtick, whatever that means. Sweetie has - is committing herself to our leader and she will give him several heirs.”

Askance with her jaw going slack, she stared up at him. “Bullshit - bull shit. There’s no way in Tartarus Sweetie would do something like that without at least telling me first - for buck’s sake, that’s just crazy!”

“Crazy it may be, but it’s the truth,” he mused. “I must admit, your friend has a certain charm to her. It’s been many, many years since my father has taken a new bride for himself, and he’s never claimed anyone other than a zebra, so I was a bit surprised myself.”

As she opened her mouth to reply, his words sank in. “The chief is your dad?!”

“He is,” the stud confirmed. “I am Likita, his eldest and, as you would call it, the shaman of our tribe.”

“Scootaloo, but everyone just calls me Scoots,” she responded, reeling from the deluge of information. “So your dad is currently knocking up my best friend?”

“If he hasn’t knocked her up already,” Likita hummed. “I’m sure either of them would be happy to explain everything themselves, but we should allow them a bit of privacy. We could talk more at my hut, if you’d like.”

With a wolfish smirk splitting her muzzle, she peered up and into his eyes. “Talk more ~ heh! You sure you’re not just trying to one-up your dad by getting an even hotter broodmare for yourself?”

He turned and shrugged before plodded away. “Are you sure you don’t want to kill some time by doing something other than chatting?”

She lifted a finger to protest, to claim that this was one of the few moments when she wasn’t out trying to get her cunt stuffed, yet the sight of his sculpted ass, an ass which was almost completely exposed behind his loincloth, made her hastily reassess her priorities. Whether he was pulling her leg or not was anyone’s guess, but she wasn’t about to go and disrupt a shoot involving the chieftain. Feeling the fabric of her shirt gliding over her hardening nipples, she scampered after the lumbering behemoth and up to his side.

“A wise decision,” he murmured, glancing over at her. “I was a bit upset to learn that you and your companion had arrived on one of the few occasions when I was visiting another tribe…”

“Don’t blame me!” she grumbled. “We got here, greeted your dad, and we’ve just been hanging out since then!”

Grunting, he slowed ever so slightly. “Had I been here at the time, I would have tended to you both personally.”

“Like fucking our brains out?” she guffawed.

“Amongst other things,” he flatly noted. “It is a chief’s duty to oblige his guests. Considering you and your friend’s reputation, it would only be appropriate that I see to your amorous needs…”

Her smile wavered a touch as she reached up and patted his bicep. “Listen, as much as I appreciate the thought, we’re sort of needy in the bedroom department. Scootaloo isn’t as bad as I am, but it’s rare for her to be satisfied by just a single stallion.”

Coming to the front of a somewhat ornate hut decorated with bones and fetishes, he pulled back the curtained door and waved her inside. “A lofty claim. No matter what sort of experience you have, I feel confident saying I could break you easily…”

“That a bet?” she chirped, trotting into his home.

“More of a promise,” he muttered, dipping his head and following in after her, “but talk is cheap. This may be a bit sudden, but I’d be more than happy to, as you ponies put it, put my bits where my mouth is.”

Peering at a cauldron resting above a small fireplace in the center of the circular room, she was immediately reminded of Zecora’s hut in the Everfree forest. “If you want to try a potion on me, go nuts. Not to brag or anything, but I’ve had a few in my day.”

He only paid her the slightest mind while crossed to and plucked a bottle hanging from the ceiling near his bed. “Your hubris is staggering.”

“Thanks - I think,” she tittered, skipping up behind him. “What’s that?”

“This,” he began, holding the little vial aloft, “is something typically reserved for - no…” Placing the bottle back from the rope which it was suspended from, he turned his eyes to the floor. “I’m sorry, there are some extremes that even I won’t -”

“Just tell me what it is!” she blurted, cutting him off and petulantly stamping her foot.

Grimacing over at her, he snatched the vial. “It’s something reserved for only the most obstinate, reckless mares.”

“Ooooooooooh - I see,” she excitedly bleated. “Lemme guess, it’ll make me more docile or something? No, wait! Is it an aphrodisiac?!”

He somehow managed to appear both annoyed and amused as he lowered his hand and offered her the bottle. “Since you’re so energetic, why don’t you find out for yourself?”

Without the slightest bit of hesitation, she grabbed the potion, unstopped the cork, and downed the contents in a flash. While she didn’t imbibe them often, she’d tried plenty of elixirs in the past, both on and off set, so she wasn’t concerned in the slightest. The way she saw it, even in a worst case scenario, she’d get a bit tipsy and wind up getting creampied by a legit shaman - something she hadn’t even known was on her bucket list.

“Not bad,” she remarked, passing him the emptied bottle. “Tastes kind of like…”

She went quiet as an odd warmth blossomed in her chest. Her knees buckled, she could sense her heart starting to race, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis, leaving her to stumble to the side and brace herself against the wall. Whatever she’d just taken was hitting her like a freight train, but that was only the beginning.

With her breath hitching in her throat, she drew a breath through her nose, stiffened, and began sniffing the air. She hadn’t caught it earlier, but the most incredible smell lingered in the air. The aroma was familiar but vastly more heady than anything she could recall, bringing her attention to what had to be the source of the musky, earthy bouquet. As she peered at his loincloth and noticed something shift beneath the strip of leather, her marehood seized so fiercely that she fell to her knees.

“Stand,” he commanded, stepping before her.

Compelled by a force more powerful than she could describe, she forced herself up and onto her feet. “W…what’s…”

Ignoring her plight, he fetched a small crock resting atop a table sat in the corner. “Strip.”

She did as he asked without question, shakily pulling her shirt up and over her head before going to unbutton her shorts. While she would have done what he wanted under almost any circumstance, unwilling to turn down the opportunity to get rutted by a Zebrican, this was different. Her body moved seemingly of its own, obeying him while her mind struggled to grasp what was happening.

With her body fully exposed, he walked over and dipped a brush into the small urn he held. She’d been striped more times than she could count, yet this time was different in a number of ways. Not only did she feel like she was suddenly weathering a profoundly intense heat, but it was difficult to form a coherent thought. Remaining still and keeping her arms to her sides, she watched as he systematically painted dark bands of ink over her body.

To his credit, he made no move to tease or toy with her, methodically marking her from her feet up to her face, although that changed as soon as he was finished with his task. Having expected - heck, hoped he’d command her to suck him off or present herself in some unseemly way, she was taken off guard when he sat the paint down, turned his back to her, and placed a foot on his bed. Seeing his sculpted backside and the grin on his snout, she drifted toward him.

Though he didn’t say a thing, her instincts told her what he expected. He was a fine specimen, as or more impressive than any of the studs she’d been paired with while on set, and he demanded worship. Burying her muzzle in the cleft of his behind, she clutched his hips and feasted on his rear.

The pungent, masculine fragrance that clung to her sinuses spoke to her deepest, most bestial urges. It was hard for her to say what she loved most about zebras, adoring every little thing about the impressive equines, but she’d always been partial to their virility. Having slept with a few pony stallions in her day, she could definitively say that Zebricans were in a league all their own.

“I’ll - Mmmm - make an honest mare out of you,” he breathed, rolling his hips back and grinding his hole against her lips. “You may have had your fun on film and stage, but now it’s time for you to embrace your true purpose.”

Shuffling forward and between his legs, she dragged her tongue over his taint and to his ripe, weighty balls. She’d heard what he said, understanding every word, but she would not - could not keep herself from venerating him. No matter what the purpose was that he’d mentioned, in that moment, she would accept any fate he had in store for her.

She left a trail of saliva in her wake, polishing his nuts and gradually working her way in front of him and to his stallionhood. His ass and tremendous coin purse had been an appetizer, wetting her appetite and making her so aroused that her marehood ached with desire, and now it was time for the main course. Like the lust-crazed whore that she was, she leaned back, lifted his stallionhood up to her face, and hotly made out with his cock-head.

Peering up at his face while she wrapped her lips around his shaft, she swooned. There was something magical about looking up at a stud while sucking them off, feeling small and insignificant compared to them, and it was something that she’d never grown tired of. She cradled his balls with one hand and held his hips with the other, completely ignoring her drenched, leaking cunt, while she drove her head forward and began sucking him off in earnest.

There’d been a time when she’d gag trying to fellate something so huge, yet that felt like a lifetime ago. Her eyelids fluttered and her pulse quickened as her throat bulged from the immense intrusion. Like she’d done with many stallions before him, she steeled herself as she forced inch after inch of his shaft down and into her gullet.

This was her place, kneeling or bent over before a veritable demigod of masculinity, and it didn’t matter if she was being filmed or not. There were some mares who tried to act civilized, pretending they didn’t secretly desire to be conquered and plowed by a stud who was bigger and more powerful than them, but those mares were fools. She only slowed when she reached his medial ring, struggling to get the fat band of flesh past her lips, and blinked a tear out of her eye.

“After today, your career is finished,” he growled.

His comment cut through the mental fog and gave her a moment of clarity. It took everything she had to fight the urge to stop blowing him, having only just started, but she threw herself back and freed her muzzle. While she wasn’t opposed to dirty talk or sinful promises, secretly adoring when stallions thought they could keep her or make a marefriend out of her, claiming that she’d stop being a porn star was something else entirely.

Staring up at him, she licked pre-cum and sweat from her lips. “W…what?”

“You came to Zebrica to experience our culture ~ did you not?” he inquired, cocking his head. “I will take you as my wife and make you the mother of my foals.”

On any other day, she would have laughed off such a lofty claim, dismissing it as a cheesy bit of dialogue from a script, but this wasn’t any other day. Every bit of intuition she had told her that he was being serious, that she’d reached an unforeseen juncture in her life, and she wanted - no, needed to heed his call. At a loss for words, grappling with the existential gravitas of the situation, she knelt motionless as he stepped back and motioned for her to stand.

“If you want it,” he purred, flexing his groin and setting his stallionhood to twitch, “present yourself and allow me to sow the seed of life within you…”

She pushed herself up and scrambled to her feet, moving so fast that she nearly stumbled and fell. To Tartarus with it - if she was fated to end up with a shaman in some remote Zebrican village, she really, truly wouldn’t mind. Wheeling around bending forward at the waist, she stood on the balls of her feet, braced her legs, and placed her hands on his hide-covered mattress.

Leaning in and running a hand up her inner thigh, he drew his fingers over her winking, drooling pussy. “A fine sight,” he cooed, “and a delicate fruit that -”

“J…just fuck me already,” she whimpered, feeling like she was teetering on the brink of madness.

His expression hardened as his eyes shot up to her face. “I will fuck you if and when I’m ready - not before. If you truly wish to devote yourself to me, you will learn respect ~ is that clear?”

A pang of fear shot through her as she fretfully nodded. “Y…yes, Sir.”

He smiled as he guided and kissed his stallionhood to her entrance. The feeling of his endowment against her lower lips sent a bolt of pleasure up her spine and made her weak in the knees - nevertheless, she didn’t buck back against him. She’d only known him for a short time, less than an hour, but she already knew that he was a stud who demanded her full fealty.

“With this,” he rumbled, steadily plunging into her and stretching her open, “you are reborn…”

The statement resonated with her like nothing ever had, making her climax purely from prophetic weight alone. Trembling and mewling out, she remained standing from sheer willpower alone as he started thrusting. Each stroke was a taste of heaven, the barest hint of the nirvana he had to offer, and it was only then that she realized he’d been right about her.

Whether he had otherworldly powers of divination or not didn’t matter - in the end, this was where she belonged. The blunt tip of his shaft hammered against her womb, his medial ring ground against her g-spot, and his balls slapped against her bulging clit, while ropes of saliva hung and dripped from her chin. This shaman, this Likita, was singular, unique amongst all the studs she’d ever been with, and he was going to make her his - she was sure of it.

Her refractory period was virtually nonexistent while being rutted by a zebra, it always had been and it likely always would be, although disappeared with the witch doctor. No sooner had the influx of ecstasy of her first climax begun to subside than a second orgasm hit her, followed by a third and then a fourth, until she lost control of herself. Rivers of nectar flowed from around his length, painting his legs, groin, and floor beneath him with her essence, while every drop of seed that lingered in her depths was washed away.

It would have been impossible for her to say the things he’d done with her - to her, as she lost herself to the lunacy of pleasure incarnate. Flashes of being in different positions in his hut, paired with unimaginable bliss and the echoes of her rapturous wails, were the only memories she retained of that day, evening, and eventual night. It wasn’t until the sun had long since set that the barest traces of her sanity returned.

She eventually found herself resting against him, laying atop his torso while lazily nursing on his semi-rigid stallionhood. Be it from muscle memory, the need to tend to him, or some combination of the two, she’d been able to serve him and lick him clean after he was well and thoroughly finished with her - in any case, the flavor of his seed and her juices brought with it a certain contentment. Though she couldn’t fully see herself, laying on her stomach, she felt the warmth and weight of what had to be at least a half-dozen of his loads marinating in her womb.

“You’re insatiable,” he whispered, prompting her to look back and over her shoulder at him.

Though obviously weary, he appeared pleased with her efforts. She was only barely able to push herself up, forcing her arms to obey her, as she smiled back at him. The impassioned tryst may have seemed like it was pulled from the pages of a script, the sort of thing that would never happen in real life, but that simply wasn’t the case. Did he really intend to make her his bride? Would he start a family with her? How could he be so sure about her destiny? What did her future hold? A thousand questions swirled in her mind, but there was one thing she was certain of - she’d stepped into a new, wondrous chapter of her life…