Zebra Anthology

Brushing her mane back, Blueblood kissed at her reflection. The icy blue of her eyes and the luxurious golden locks flowing down her back and over her shoulders always had been enough to get her plenty of attention, although they now took a distant backseat to the rest of what she had to offer. In every sense of the word but one, she was a fertile goddess, a paragon of femininity and charm, and she’d taken it upon herself to share her love with the world and anypony who sought out companionship.

As she gave a deep, satisfied sigh and closed her compact, memories of her fateful journey came rushing back to her. She’d been so silly! Seriously, what sort of self-respecting mare would ever want some big, admittedly crude stallion who flaunted his money and looks over his personality? Time and time again, her advances and attempts at finding her special somepony had failed - that was, until she had a revelation.

For many years, most of her life, she’d had the wrong idea about herself and how to conduct herself! She tried to start small, doing plenty of research and outright paying mares to give their thoughts on relationships and what they looked for in a stallion, but then it happened - a magical moment that changed her life forever. A big, striped stud, one who was almost as big as she was, had complimented her looks.

She’d been so gobsmacked by the flattery of the unfamiliar zebra that she hadn’t known what to think, but she knew she liked it - she liked it a lot. After that brief exchange, the blink of an eye in the grand scheme of things, she’d reevaluated every facet of her life. Her behavior, how she carried herself, her pursuits - each and every one of them had come to revolve around one thing.

Zebras - heaven help her, she found them positively captivating. From their size and exotic nature to the way they looked at her, the adonic equines tickled her in a way nopony ever had before! They were why she’d decided to become the mare she was, going through months of expensive treatments to forsake her masculinity and make herself more appealing, and they’d been the reason she’d started her little business.

Straightening up, she turned and looked out the window beside the counter she stood behind. Ponies of all sorts talked by, out and about while doing whatever they pleased, although it was only a matter of time until somepony came to pay her a visit. Bits could and always would open certain doors that would otherwise remain closed, which was how she’d been able to open her parlor.

She wasn’t technically any laws, yet the nature of her work toed several legal lines. On the surface, purely at a glance, she owned a massage parlor - that being said, her clients got much, much more than rest and relaxation. As far as she was concerned, prostitution was a victimless crime, particularly when her mares were cared for and enjoyed their work, and she was quite proud of what she’d accomplished in such a short period of time.

As a group of six young zebras crossed the street, making a beeline to her storefront, Blueblood’s smile broadened. She catered to anypony who was brave enough to enter, irrespective of their sex or species, but she had her preferences. As the half-dozen studs walked in, setting the bell above her door to jingle, she closed her eyes and bowed.

“Welcome,” she demurely stated, keeping her head low.

“So, yeah, we need a little favor,” a stallion exclaimed as he pushed his companion closer to her. “It’s our buddy’s last night to be a free stallion, and we were thinking he should cut loose.”

Rising to her full, imposing height, Blueblood peered downward and past her mountainous chest at a timid little stallion who wouldn’t or couldn’t look up and meet her gaze. She’d always been on the large side, being taller and more heavily built than most, and that hadn’t changed after her metamorphosis. As she loomed over the stud, her eyes meandered down his chest and to his nethers.

The stallion in question, having been unceremoniously driven to the front of the group by his friends, anxiously played with his hands while keeping his eyes on the floor. “H…hello.”

Blue smoothly turned, trotted around the counter, and sank to one knee at his side. Putting her guests at ease and making them feel comfortable was a key facet of her position and a mark of pride for her. Bringing her face to eye level with him, she cautiously reached out, took him by the wrist, and gently lifted his arm.

“Enchanté,” she breathed. “I’m Blue, the proprietor of this fine establishment, and it’s my pleasure to meet you.”

As he went to look up at her, he faltered and peered over at her expansive cleavage. Making herself presentable and alluring was part and parcel of her profession, although her revealing attire, consisting of a low-cut blouse, miniskirt, and fishnets was modest compared to what several of her mares typically wore. Gently kissing the back of his hand, she released him and rose to her full, imposing height.

“I…I…I’m…” he stammered, his face going beet red.

She would have felt bad for him, were it not for a distinct, if not faint twitch beneath the fabric over his groin. “Take your time, sweetheart, I’m - Goodness!”

Without any warning whatsoever, one of the stallion’s friends, the one who’d addressed her upon entering, shoved him from behind. The poor fellow lost his balance, toppled forward, and landed with his head firmly lodged between her breasts. She wasn’t bothered - in fact, she found the entire affair rather amusing, although she couldn’t take the development sitting down - metaphorically speaking.

Taking him by the shoulders, she held him in place while taking a step back. “As endearing as your friends’ enthusiasm is, I must apologize on their behalf,” she began, shooting a semi-stern glance at the gaggle of snickering zebras. “Tell me, do you have a name? Even if you aren’t interested in my services, I would be remiss for not asking.”

“Itiju,” he croaked, his voice a wavering.

“Well it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Itiju. Would you ~ excuse me?” she cut herself off as his companions began filing out. “Is this some sort of joke to you?”

Dismissively waving a hand back at her, the de facto leader of the gang walked out behind his friends. “Nah, I was serious. We’ll be back in an hour with bits for you - in the meantime, make him regret tying himself down to that pegasus chick he’s fallen head over heels for.”

The door closed, the bell above it jingling as it shut, and Blue found herself alone in the small, cozy lobby alone with her flustered visitor. “Pardon me for asking, but are they always like that?”

Itiju nodded solemnly while watching his friends depart. “Yeah…”

Had the circumstances been different, Blue would have politely asked him if he had any real interest in any intimate activities then, depending on his answer, either excused him or called upon one of her mares to tend to him, although she hesitated. His sheepishness and his age, appearing as though he was barely an adult, were compelling - so compelling that she decided to take a different approach. Pressing the index finger and thumb of one hand between her luscious lips, she gave a sharp whistle.

“Coming,” a lilting voice called out before a buxom mare scampered through a doorway leading deeper into the building. “Yes ma’am?”

“See to the front desk,” Blue intoned. Stepping around to Itiju’s side, she rested a hand on his shoulder and took a step. “While I may be mistaken, I get the impression that your friends will be immeasurably disappointed if you don’t have a story to tell.”

Once again, Itiju nodded. “Probably. They’re good guys, but they can be really pushy - too pushy.”

“You have my sympathies for that,” Blue sighed, lazily strolling away from the desk while delicately guiding the stallion along. “If you’ll permit it, we can have refreshments and chat for a bit - nothing obscene or bombastic, I assure you. After we’re through, and your companions return, you’ll be free to make up whatever fanciful tale you’d like ~ how’s that sound?”

“That…” Itiju trailed off as he weakly smiled up at her. “That actually sounds nice.”

She beamed, overjoyed that she’d managed to help him relax, if only slightly, while she trotted down a hallway and past a series of doors. Her house of ill repute, like the mares in her employ, was kept immaculate and opulent. Leading him around a corner and to her personal suite, once that rarely saw use, she ran her hand over his back.

“You’re quite tense,” she quietly remarked, feeling the tautness in his muscles and noticing the stiffness of his gait. “Were those comments about your betrothal true?”

“They were - are,” he hastily corrected. “I’ve only known Squall for about six months, but I know she’s the one.”

“Squall,” Blue repeated, letting the name roll off her tongue. “She must be quite the mare, if you’re willing to take her as your bride so quickly.”

A dreamy look crossed his face as he lifted his head and vacantly peered down the hallway. “She really is. She’s funny, she’s cute, and she’s…”

Blue denied the urge to look over her shoulder, having walked ahead of him by a few paces. “She’s…?”

“S…she’s - uh - she’s just great,” he sputtered.

Retrieving a key from her pocket, Blue slowed to a halt, bent over, and carefully unlocked her door. There was nothing overtly wrong or lewd about what she was doing, merely letting them into her room, although that was the trick to seduction. The best temptresses could beguile somepony in ways so subtle that it appeared natural, and she’d honed those skills to a razor’s edge.

She withdrew, stepped aside, and bayed he enter with a small bow. “Après vous…”

His eyes lingered on her flank for a moment, before he licked his lips, shook his head, and hastily sauntered by her. The guilt she felt from showing herself off, giving him a fleeting glimpse of her panties and shapely rump, was an exquisite accoutrements to her steadily increasing arousal. She’d had rolls with plenty of stallions, the number being well into the hundreds, yet it was the young, nervous, inexperienced ones, like ripe fruit waiting to be plucked, that she savored the most.

Walking in behind him, she pulled the door closed and deftly flicked the lock behind herself. “Feel free to make yourself at home.”

She didn’t wait for him to reply as she strolled past him and eased herself down on the foot of her mattress. The suite served as an apartment of sorts, a place to crash if she was too weary to walk home in the dead of night, and it was stocked as such. Though small, the space had a recliner, kitchenette, and a small desk sat to one corner, although the overwhelming majority of the room was dominated by a custom-made, extra-large bed.

“Oh wow,” Itiju gasped while he drank in his surroundings. “This place has everything!”

“Almost everything,” she hastily corrected. Seeing a puzzled expression flit across his face, she hung her head and closed her eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s a fine place to get some rest, but it’s far from perfect.”

Itiju inched closer, though he remained just out of arm’s reach. “What’s it missing though - like, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Not what,” she lamented, “who.”

While it would have been trivial for her to continue, waxing poetic and sowing a tale of sorrow and regret, she allowed him to speculate on her supposed plight. Her sorrowful facade was unwavering as she watched him through her bangs. He shuffled nearer, swallowed hard, and shakily reached out and tenderly patted her shoulder.

It took everything she had not to smirk, yet she managed to keep up her charade - if only just. “Let’s just say you have a very lucky marefriend…”

He knit his brow and grimaced as she finished speaking. “I…I don’t know about that…”

“Oh but you do,” she insisted. “You have your full life ahead of you, while I…”

Her tactical pause, though brief, spurred him to clear his throat. “What about you?”

“I’m this,” she pouted. Slowly pushing herself up, she towered over him and waved a hand at her immense, voluptuous frame. “As if being a giantess doesn’t make it hard enough to find prospective lovers, I’m not getting any younger - add to that the things I’ve done, what led me to maintaining this brothel, and I consider myself fortunate when stallions ask for my services…”

Burying her face in her palms, she quietly sniffed and peeked through her fingers. Being a call mare was practically a death sentence when it came to finding long-term partners - luckily for her, that had never been something she’d been after. As she lowered one hand sank her fingers into the yielding flesh of her right tit, while caressing her belly with the other, her mouth set to watering.

Itiju had taken the bait, he was sporting a boner, and now it was time to reel him in. Being attracted to maternal mares was extraordinarily common, and she’d made herself the perfect target for their desires - literally. The modifications she’d endured, giving her curves that could kill, udders that could rival most dairy cows, and a bountiful womb had cost a fortune, but they’d been worth every single bit.

As she looked away from him, her shoulders wilted. “Nopony in their right mind would want to be with some old, used up sow who’s carrying a bastard foal…”

It was a valid observation, yet the thought of everything she’d accomplished, being exquisitely gravid and an avatar of lechery, was a source of constant joy. She’d lost friends over the decisions she’d made, with a few scorning her out of envy, but they, along with her judgmental family, weren’t worth her concern. Awaiting Itiju’s reply, if he could find his voice, she snorted when she felt a cool dampness on her bust.

She hadn’t planned to start spontaneously lactating, having no control over that element of herself, although the situation was pure serendipity. Lifting her gaze over to Itiju, she couldn’t stop herself from grinning. The little stallion’s jaw was slack, his eyes were practically glazed over, and a bead of drool hung from his chin, while his stallionhood tried in vain to rip its way out of his slacks.

“D…do…” she murmured, gulping down a mouthful of saliva. “Do you know any stallion’s who might spare me some comfort…?”

Smoothly hooking her thumbs over the neck of her blouse, she gradually pulled her top open. Her breasts were so engorged that they spilled over her straining bra, and the flow of her milk was so prolific that it had seeped straight through the nursing pads she was wearing. With the smallest, most surreptitious use of her magic, so quick that it would have been impossible for Itiju to see it, her brassiere burst open and let her breasts fall heavily upon her foal-filled abdomen.

She couldn’t tell if Itiju had short circuited or not, her bashful display and self-pity potentially having fried something within his brain, but she wasn’t one to waste an opportunity. Crossing to him, she leaned forward, snaked her arms around his upper back, and pulled him to her rack. To Tartarus with it - they’d been doing the dance for long enough, he was clearly a bit hot under the collar, and she had the perfect thing to help him blow off some steam.

In a shocking turn of events, Itiju didn’t attempt to flee, push her away, or say anything - no, he coolly reared back, twisted his head, and latched onto her teat like a starved foal. The sheer zeal with which he nursed upon her was exquisite, like a fine cognac after a long, rewarding day, and it forced her hand. Igniting her horn, while holding him close and stroking his head, she daintily loosened his belt and popped the button of his pants.

It was no simple task to disrobe somepony who you were hugging, although she’d become quite skilled at it over the years. Tentatively guiding his slacks down his legs and to his ankles, she came to a crossroads. Would it be better to let him sate himself with her, allowing him the first potential move, or should she seize the initiative and give him what he craved. In the end, motivated by her raging libido and little else, the choice was obvious.

Scooping him up and holding him to her chest, ensuring he could drink his fill, she grunted and stood. It wasn’t that he was particularly heavy, not with her considerable size and strength, but carrying somepony in her gravid state was onerous at best. As she eased him onto the bed, situating him in a supine position along the mattress’ length, he tightly hugged her torso when she went to shy away.

“Now now,” she tutted with a giggle, “good colts behave themselves. You are a good colt ~ aren’t you?”

He swallowed a mouthful of rich cream, wiped his chin, then glanced down at himself and went rigid. She’d been right, he hadn’t noticed that he was being stripped, and his stunned reaction was the final nail in his carnal coffin - even if he didn’t realize it. Swinging a leg over his waist, she practically threw herself upon him.

Being adaptable was fundamental in her line of work. Different clients had different tastes, you could never be completely sure about how somepony was going to conduct themselves, and guessing the endurance of customers was a fool’s errand - be that as it may, her desires were also a factor. She’d intended to start things at a measured pace, sucking him off and worshiping him like the stud he was, but the plans had changed.

Dragging her rack over his chest, and leaving a trail of milk along his torso, she pecked his cheek. “Brace your legs for me, darling…”

His reaction was instantaneous, lifting and bending his legs to slam his feet against the mattress. He had no idea - no possible idea what he was in for, and she could scarcely wait for the grand reveal. With glacial speed, after giving him a fleeting kiss on the lips, she reclined and swung her arms back.

He propped himself up and gawked at her, quite possibly committing the sight of such a fecund mare pinning him down and preparing to have her way with him. Looking down from her bust and over her belly, his focus shifted to her loins. As she put a sway in her back and shifted her hips forward, he reached for the fabric draped over her crotch.

“Go ahead,” she rasped while she lifted her waist.

Flipping the delicate cloth upward concealing her groin upward, Itiju gave himself his first real look at her loins. While he’d doubtlessly been expecting a plump, juicy marehood, he was in for his biggest surprise of the evening - figuratively speaking. His eyes narrowed then widened as her secret was unveiled.

Blue’s ascent had continued all the while, until she’d reached the tip of his shaft and swung her hips back by the smallest of margins. Her pregnancy had prevented her from seeing the shriveled nub of flesh she’d once called a dick for well over a month, yet she knew it was still there. Unlike a great many stallions who’d gone all the way, changing themselves into mares in every way imaginable, she’d abstained - not because anything had gone awry, but because the rush of wooing and bedding straight stallions, convincing them that she was fully female, was addictive.
Languidly impaling herself upon him, taking his mighty stallionhood into the velvety ring that was her cunt, she moaned in delight. If he took umbrage with her diminutive, platinum-caged clit, he gave no sign whatsoever. While she slid lower and lower, relishing every inch of his length, he studied his face in anticipation.

Was he going to lay there limply while she fucked herself on him? Would he crumble to his bestial wants and rut her until she was squealing and squiring like an actual mare? Perhaps he’d eventually ask her to stop, once he’d come to his senses, and leave with his tail tucked between his legs? No matter what he did or didn’t do, she’d marked him, tarnishing his supposed heterosexuality, and he wouldn’t soon forget it.

Grabbing her hips and tensing, he fiercely hauled her downward while thrusting into her. He hadn’t said a thing, though his actions - his actions said more than words ever could. As he sat up and moved one hand to her lower back, pulling her closer while he jackhammered into her ass, he whimpered and mewled like a colt who’d just gotten lucky with his crush.

She indulged him of course, settling onto all fours while swinging one gigantic breast to his face. His actions screamed that he was a mama’s boy, having a fetishistic love for mares just like her, and he’d made it abundantly clear that her package did nothing to impede his sinful urges. Supporting herself on one outstretched arm, she held his head to her teat while running her fingers through his shortly-cropped mane.

“That’s right,” she cooed, gripping his wildly pistoning shaft in her vice-like entrance, “give it to mama…”

Her encouragement did wonders. His plunges were savage, lacking any precision or skill, and he sucked on her bosom so hard that it was uncomfortable - still, she was in heaven. A mares place was to please stallions, bring new life into the world, and be attractive - all of which she’d mastered. The raw gratification of fulfilling her purpose to its utmost, the assault on her bitch-button, and despoiling another stallion sent her hurtling to a climax.

With her eyelids fluttering and hair standing on end, she came. The delight of despoiling somepony, anypony, was transcended physical bliss by an order of magnitude. With her watery, sterile spunk pooling on Itiju’s abdomen, she rode out her ecstasy until a warm euphoria overtook her. She could have stopped and simply had him rut several orgasms out of her, although she wasn’t finished with him.

Luxury in every facet of her life was expected. The finest furniture, the most lavish meals, exquisite jewelry - each was dear to her, though none more so than her lovers. Studs of any variety could please her, regardless of how heavily endowed they were, because she’d moved past bodily needs. Her carnality lay within her mind, titillated by concepts and the influence she had on others, and it offered her more pleasure than any mere fleshly, sexual exchange.

Holding off until he was nearing his limit, and having climaxed another two times herself, she withdrew and peered down at him as his stallionhood flared. “Are you going to bring more colts to visit mommy?”

Itiju was a mess, his face slick with drool, milk, and sweat, yet he fervently nodded while pounding her well-trained pucker. “Uh…uh-huh…”

“Such a sweet little thing,” she fondly whispered. Relying on her instincts, and feeling his length pulse violently, she hilted herself upon him with her full weight. “Cum for me - cum for mommy.”

His pitiable whines were music to her ears, the heat flooding into her warmed the depths of her heart, and the scent of sex and unabashed lust filling her sinuses was ambrosial. She’d known he was coming, having successfully ensnared and bent his friends to her will, but she’d keep that secret to herself. Contracting and relaxing her entrance around him, drinking in every virile drop of his essence, she held and presented her left breast to his lips.

The faintest tapping at her door drew her eyes to the exit. “Yes?” she demurely inquired, holding Itiju’s head to her teat.

A stallion entered, followed by five others, though only the first of them spoke. “Did we do good, Mama?”

“Absolutely,” she giggled. “You colts did very, very good, and you’ll all be rewarded for it. Once my little foals enter the world, the six of you, including little Itiju here,” she continued as she fondly stroked the nursing stallion’s head, “can all do your best to knock your dearest Mommy up ~ how’s that sound?”

The stallions nodded and beamed, while Itiju’s cock twitched excitedly within her. Her ploy to ensnare unassuming lovers took time, patience, and no small amount of self-control, but it was worth it - by Celestia, was it worth it. She was little more than a refined sow, a foal-factory who robbed studs of their relative innocence, and it was what she lived for.

As he ravenously drank from her, her thoughts drifted to what the future would hold for her. She relished each and every stallion she conquered, and particularly those who insisted to see her over the mares in her employ, and she was sure that Itiju would be back to visit her again - only next time, he’d bring some new friends along. Closing her eyes, she contentedly sighed and basked in her latest, most adorable trophy…