Ghost Lusters

“Yew git that next batch o’ fritters in here, human!” Granny Smith’s voice soared above the din of the Apple family’s annual Nightmare Night party. “An’ don’t ferget ta bring another jar o’ pickled apples!” she added as an afterthought. “Some o’ us gals got cravins!”

“Alright, Granny, I won’t forget!” you responded as you slipped out of the noisy barn into the quiet autumn night, closing the door behind you. You wiped your brow with relief, feeling the cool wind on your bare chest.

According to your wife Apple Bloom, the traditional Nightmare Night party had once been a small gathering, yet the family itself had grown tremendously over the past 12 months. Between your many wives, and the smaller herd led by your brother-in-law Big Mac, it sometimes seemed as if most of the mares in Ponyville were now members of the Apple clan! That once spacious barn was currently crowded with luscious female bodies, and it didn’t help matters that every lady in attendance was currently quite a bit “bigger” than normal, and eating for two at the very least.

The way your girls had been looking at each other, too... why, Scootaloo and Cookie Crumbles seemed like they were just about to start kissing! Could you blame a guy for needing a little fresh air?

As you savoured the quiet of the night, you witnessed an unusual sight in the rear of the farmyard: it seemed as if your glamorous wife Rarity had taken her leave of the party as well. She lay supine on a fainting couch, gazing up at the large and ominous moon of Nightmare Night. You hurried over and knelt down at your beloved’s side, placing a gentle hand on the lovely unicorn’s prominent baby bump and the glittering silver chain that pierced her navel.

“Rarity, what’s going on?” you worried. “Why aren’t you at the party? Are you and the foal OK?”

“We’re both fabulous, darling. I’m simply getting a little moonbathing in.” Rarity beamed up at you, her magical smile filling your heart with purest love, even as the perfect foal you’d made together squirmed and kicked within her vast, 10-months-pregnant belly. Balanced upon that belly, Rarity held a foil tanning reflector, and her hooves pointed its shiny surface at the right angle to concentrate Luna’s intense moonlight upon her muzzle.

“Nothing’s better on Nightmare Night for a mare gifted with a pale complexion,” Rarity explained. Except, of course, a stallion’s special ‘beauty cream,’” she added with a naughty wink. “Have you come out to give me a dose?”

“N-no, I’m just going back to the farmhouse to pick up some more food,” you stuttered with a blush. “Applejack and Pinkie should be done with another batch of fritters by now.”

“Oh, do stay a while,” Rarity pouted, reluctant to give up this rare moment when she had her herd-husband all to herself. She drew her hoof down your bare chest, her fur rustling with electricity as she stroked your body. “Let me admire you. I know you were reluctant to wear the costume I made for you, but it makes you look far more delicious than any apple fritter.”

You’d always preferred Halloween costumes that were actually scary, but thanks to the thirsty mares of your herd, such selfish considerations were now firmly in the past. Tonight you were dressed as a cowboy... or at least, as Rarity’s perverted ideal of a cowboy. A finely tailored flannel vest clung tightly to your shirtless chest, covering practically nothing and leaving your nipples poking out painfully in the cold night of October. The assless chaps were even worse: they pampered your legs in fancy fringe, yet left your biped butt exposed to your wives’ constant pats and kisses. Your cock was covered well enough, but only because Rarity’s final touch had been to strap your erection to your inner thigh like a gunslinger’s pistol.

Your bare and shaven balls dangled between your legs, the skin prickling in the night air, now warmed by a gentle hoof as Rarity hefted them with a deep appreciation that verged on worship. Her eyes playfully flicked up to the silver star pinned to your vest, a shiny badge of authority that proclaimed you not the “SHERIFF” of Sweet Apple Acres but its “#1 STUD.” Her lips brushed your thigh, her teeth tugged at a metal snap, and with a soft rustling your fleshy “weapon” spilled out of its holster, booping against Rarity’s mouth and smearing her bright purple lipstick.

Rarity’s own Nightmare Night costume was nothing short of obscene: a fetishistic schoolfilly outfit that showcased her beach ball sized, ready to drop belly. The sight of such gravidity, and the knowledge that you had caused it, filled you with arousal, yet you knew you had to resist. Your wives had yet to reveal your Nightmare Night studding schedule, preferring to keep it a holiday surprise... but it was certain enough that a secret unicorn blowjob was not on the official event calendar! “R-Rarity, I really have to go check on the fritters,” you protested.

“Oh, but he wants to stay with me,” Rarity murmured, taking your member between her lips and beginning to suckle gently. “Doesn’t he, now? I’ve got a nice, warm throat for him to snuggle into.”

Did you want to bury your erection down Rarity’s gullet and succumb to her infinitely talented oral skills? Hell, yes! Was it a good idea to perform such an act in a farm field, with nothing but a barn door hiding your tryst from the rest of your jealous herd? HELL, NO!

Were you about to do it anyway?

Probably... yeah... basically...

Rarity took note of your reluctance and escalated her seduction technique. “Darling, I was just reading in Cosmarepolitan,” she announced, “that human sperm is chock full of vitamins.” Her delicate tongue lapped up a small puddle of precum that dripped from the swollen head of your cock. “Who would have thought? Delicious and nutritious!”

“V-vitamins?” you stammered.

“Why, yes. Your thick, potent seed is filled with nutrients that are crucial for a pregnant mare such as myself. You wouldn’t want me to go without, would you?”

“N-no...” your voice croaked. “I mean... w-what if something happened to our foal?”

“Celestia forbid,” Rarity murmured. “Fortunately, my truly excellent husband is about to make sweet love to my throat, and give me the nutrients I need. Do make it quick, dear, I fear I feel a niacin deficiency coming on...”

You gasped with fatherly worry and grasped Rarity’s horn, firmly yet gently. At your touch you heard the squelch of a most un-ladylike wink, and saw two thin streams of milk expressed from Rarity’s huge, dark teats. Your posh little preggo couldn’t get enough of being manhandled and degraded by strong human hands!

With a submissive “Aaah...” Rarity’s jaws slid smoothly open, and the crown of your proud human prick slipped past her tongue and swiftly breached the tight ring of muscle at the back of her throat. She moaned into your flare and reached down to rub herself as your hips began to move, gifting her with long deepdicking thrusts that bounced your nuts against her chin and considered her gag reflex to be a mere suggestion. Loudly glurking with contentment, Rarity happily accepted your crude violation as the price of her own mareish pleasure.

But though the sensations of Rarity’s oral cocksleeve was unmatched, you weren’t even conscious of giving her the rough treatment she needed. You were a man on a mission — the very health of your family was at stake! Wet squelching sounds came from Rarity’s once dignified lips as you frantically rutted the muzzle of your unicorn wife, bulging her throat, hoping that your “vitamins” would be delivered into her stomach in time to keep the development of your unborn foal on the right track. Rarity expertly clopped herself with one front hoof, but the other never left your balls, gently squeezing, urging, demanding. As you begged your overtaxed nuts to produce yet another thick load for a hungry lover, you cast your mind back to how you’d gotten into this bizarre, yet sexy situation...

One year ago tonight, your life had changed forever. You’d been standing outside your Ponyville cottage, handing out candy to trick-or-treating foals, when three young mares had showed up on your doorstep with the much more appealing cry of “trick or breed!” on their lips. Before you knew it, the Cutie Mark Crusaders had pranked you into donating fat creampies directly into their fertile wombs. Naturally, you’d taken responsibility for your actions and proposed marriage to the three feisty ladies, pledging to love and care for them always. Little did you know just how much responsibility you were taking on!

As you learned too late, Equestria had some very odd traditions around sex and childbirth. In this magical land, the swelling tummy of a pregnant mare acted not only as proof of her happy husband’s virility, but as an open offer to any and all of her female relatives. Any mare who shared a single bit of DNA with Apple Bloom, Scootaloo or Sweetie Belle was now invited — neigh, encouraged — to take you to bed and put your breeding skills to the test. It didn’t matter if the mare was married to somepony else, or how many children she already had — by tradition, her right to your cock and your offspring was absolute.

The morning after your wedding you’d obediently put foals into Scootaloo’s scientist mother, the plump unicorn housewife known as Cookie Crumbles, and even (thanks to Cookie’s fertility magic) the matriarch of the Apple family herself, Granny Smith. Later that day, your ex-marefriends Applejack and Rarity had crashed your honeymoon, eager to join the herd their sisters had started. With a promise and a kiss you’d made them yours forever, and they’d taken turns riding you bareback until both were thoroughly bred.

Within days, the good word of human dick had spread to Apple Bloom’s many cousins throughout Equestria. Apple Cobbler, Apple Munchies and Jonagold swiftly hastened to Ponyville, eager to sample your seed and join your herd. Scootaloo’s aunt Holiday had also taken advantage of the ancient tradition, albeit using a turkey baster rather than the more “entertaining” method. Even the notorious Pinkie Pie had eventually coaxed your bun into her oven, by leaning on a very distant and dubious connection to the Apple family.

Far from being outraged, the cuckolded husbands of these insatiable mares had showed you nothing but gratitude. While their wives lounged atop your ever growing collection of maternity couches, awaiting their next dose of thick human pipe, once harried stallions like Hondo Flanks and Snap Shutter lived the carefree bachelor life you’d given up for good. They were free to waste time on the golf course, pound ciders with the homies, play Ogres & Oubliettes into the wee hours, and engage in other male activities which your busy lovemaking schedule now denied you. You still remembered Cheese Sandwich’s look of relief as he frantically pumped your hand in his hooves, congratulating you on impregnating his wife and muttering “better you than me...”

As your reputation for stud service spread, your herd swiftly grew too large to fit in your rented cottage. So it was that you packed up your few belongings and moved to Apple Bloom’s foalhood home of Sweet Apple Acres. Once you’d moved in, you discovered an even more alarming fact: by marrying into the Apple clan and taking up life on the farm, you’d become the bearer of an immense number of family traditions, each of which had to be upheld to the letter!

These traditions inevitably came down to showering your pregnant wives with love, affection, and sexual pleasure. The kisses were constant, daily massages were a must, and it seemed the pussy licking never ended. You ended each night exhausted and drained, lying in the family sized bed once used by Bright Mac and Pear Butter, cuddling bundles of warm pudge and with a gushing marehood seated firmly on your face. You couldn’t even complain to Big Mac, the only other male for miles around, as your brother-in-law was honour bound to uphold those same traditions for his smaller yet equally demanding herd.

Strangely, no less an expert than Twilight Sparkle had once told you that no such traditions existed! That wacky nerd claimed your wives were constantly taking advantage of your trusting nature, tricking you into snuggling them tight, dicking them hard and breeding them endlessly. This was clearly nonsense born of jealousy, as the sweet and gentle mares you loved so much would never do such a thing... would they?

You looked down at Rarity’s baby blue eyes, beaming as tears of facefucked joy sent lines of mascara and eyeshadow dribbling down her muzzle. No, you saw no dishonesty in those eyes, only true love and even truer lust. As her gaze met yours, her sucking lips pursed and tightened around your meat, confirming your romantic connection as your passion peaked. You howled like a wolf at the moon above and unloaded a flurry of sperm past Rarity’s lips, a load nearly as large as the one that had first impregnated this beautiful mare.

Sparks flew from Rarity’s horn, numbing your hand as the two of you were brought to simultaneous climax. For a moment you lost yourself in purest pleasure. Your family, your responsibilities, even the newborn foals you adored with a father’s love... everything vanished in the haze of orgasm as you fulfilled your true purpose in Equestria: flinging thick ropes into the eager holes of a sexy horse.

“Glagggh... glurk... oh, you magnificent throatfucking beast!” Looking down at Rarity as your cock slipped from her maw, you felt pride soar within your heart. You’d left Rarity’s face an obscene mess of runny makeup — exactly as she preferred it. Sparks of mana still dribbled forth from her horngasm, disappearing into the night air and adding to the magical aura of this realm of pleasures.

“How was that, baby?” you asked eagerly, tenderly slapping Rarity’s muzzle with your messy and softening meat. “Do you think that’s enough vitamins for now?”

“Eh? Vitamins?” Rarity coughed loudly, gasping for breath, and licking her sloppy lips. “Oh, yes, yes, very well done. My compliments to the chefs.” She lovingly kissed each of your balls, imprinting each with lipstick and sticky deepthroat saliva.

“Now, if you don’t mind, lover, I’d like to get another hour or two of moonlight, before the unspeakable horrors start roaming the land.” With her now shaky magical aura Rarity fussed your cock back into its thigh holster, making you at least somewhat decent, then waved you away with a hoof. “Ta-ta, now!”

Your temporarily drained nuts bounced between your thighs as you stumbled slowly towards the farmhouse kitchen where Applejack and Pinkie worked even now to feed your enormous family. You silently thanked Celestia that Rarity had happened to read that Cosmarepolitan article when she did. Just think, all this time you could have been doing more for your wives! You silently pledged to stallion up and feed all of your mares the nutrients they needed for a healthy pregnancy... even if it meant doubling or tripling your daily dose of the Apple family’s secret virility elixir.

All in all, being the head of such a large herd felt like a constant uphill climb. Sometimes it felt as if an Apple family reunion was being held atop your cock! If you’d known the toil and exhaustion that was in store for you the first time you pushed your foalmaker into Sweetie Belle’s unprotected womb...

Naw, you would have definitely done it anyhow! Who were you kidding? Despite the hardships, you’d never been so happy in your life! Your heart beamed and you always seemed to have a smile on your face, day and night. The happiness of your lovely wives, the quality time spent with your foals...

The endless supply of delicious horse pussy, hungry throats and tight ponuts...

Eeyup, life was good!

Grinning like a fool, you cheerfully walked towards the cozy lights of your farmhouse, little knowing the strenuous exertions that awaited you on your second Nightmare Night in Equestria...

As you approached the door to the huge farmhouse kitchen, you overheard the giggling and groaning of two horny mares who really should have been busy with their baking! Despite her prowess in the kitchen, Pinkie Pie was the naughtiest of your herdmates, and it seemed even the stallwart Applejack couldn’t resist her constant invitations to fun and pleasure.

“Awe, c’mon, not the rollin’ pin...” you heard your blonde farmgirl moan as she inevitably succumbed to Pinkie’s playful dominance. “I’m still sore back there from last night!” Your dick twitched as you remembered the velvet grip of Applejack’s well trained pucker, squeezing your cock tight as you flooded her insides with hot sperm.

“And whose fault is that, AJ?” Pinkie giggled. “Admit it — you’ve been skipping ponut yoga, haven’t you?”

“Gol durnit, Pinkie, yew know ponut yoga ain’t a thing — unnnngh, please, right there, don’t ya dare stop...”

At that deep, sensual moan, you simply had to crack open the door and take a voyeuristic peak! You beheld the pregnant Applejack with her limbs splayed, lying upon her back like a beached whale, immobile beneath the weight of her belly. Her beautiful golden mane lay flung across the kitchen floor as she writhed with ecstasy, helpless to resist Pinkie Pie’s panoply of pleasures. Pinkie’s ever fattening ass wobbled back and forth, clapping lightly as she hungrily licked Applejack’s pussy and carefully worked the wooden handle of a rolling pin in and out of her fellow earth pony’s tailhole.

Though you’d bred Applejack and Rarity in the same hour, Applejack’s belly was even larger than her unicorn friend’s, thanks to having not one but two foals crammed into her womb. The sacred due date for both mares was only days away. Yet while Rarity preferred to laze her pregnancy away on the nearest couch, Applejack’s endless energy kept her constantly busy around the farm, despite your pleas to take it easy and let you handle the chores.

Your cheeks burned as you remembered the first time you’d offered to take some work off of Applejack’s hooves. She’d giggled lovingly and patted you dismissively on the butt. “Yer kind ain’t fit fer any sort o’ work other than pussy ploughin’ an’ butthole bonin’,” she’d snorted. “An’ Celestia knows there’s plenty o’ both ta be done round here! Yew run along now, stud.” At that, she’d headed off to the barn, her belly nearly dragging across the ground. “Now, let’s see, the fence needs paintin’, and the hogs need sloppin’...”

As for Pinkie Pie, she was still relatively early in her pregnancy, having spent the better part of a year mercilessly wearing down your reluctance to cuck your bro Cheese Sandwich. Thanks to her voluptuous flanks and thick layers of pudge, Pinkie had looked pregnant even before your sperm went to work on her. Now she seemed positively radiant, her mane puffing up proudly while her belly swelled beyond all reason.

“C’mon, AJ, gimme a big ole maregasm!” Pinkie’s cheerful smile beamed even as she sodomized her best friend with an Apple family heirloom passed down through many generations. “Squirt it all right in my face!”

“Don’t ya dare make me squirt, Pinkie!” Applejack objected. “Mah bladder’s squished down ta the size o’ a string-bean an’ the twins are stompin’ on it! It’s all gonna come out as pee!”

“Even better!”

Though Pinkie was definitely the kinkiest of your lovers, such sapphic antics as you now beheld were a common occurrence here at Sweet Apple Acres. After all, you were but one mortal man, surrounded by eager mares. Around these parts a winking pussy seldom went long without a friendly tongue to slurp up its juices, and masturbation was never a solo affair. Far from feeling jealous, you thoroughly approved of the constant filly-on-filly action as it played out before you. The sight of your gravid wives enjoying each other never failed to supercharge your lust, readying you for another round or five even after a long day of horsefucking.

Applejack herself had objected at first to this trend, yanking her little sister out from between Mane Allgood’s legs and declaring “our Momma didn’t raise no rug-munchers!” Yet a quick look at her parents’ wedding album put such nonsense to rest. There were plenty of steamy photographs of Pear Butter and the young Mrs. Cake at that clandestine reception, muzzle deep in each others’ pussies and thoroughly enjoying the taste! Following in her mother’s hoofsteps, the once conservative Applejack was now as thirsty for cunt as any mare in your herd, and talented enough even to satisfy a lifelong lesbian like Aunt Holiday.

Your dick throbbed in its leather holster as you drooled over the sight of Pinkie’s turbo-tongue working against Applejack’s clit. It was time to free the little guy from his confinement once again. Your farmgirl’s golden ponut cried out for satisfaction, and you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to stretch Pinkie’s already bred pussy to the maximum.

Your wives had excused you from all sexual duties today, in anticipation of Nightmare Night debauchery. As far as you were concerned, the debauchery was overdue! You’d spent the day cleaning up messes, changing diapers, and carrying food back and forth to the barn... it was time for daddy to have some fun!

You silently crept up behind your two distracted mates and unslung your stiff, veiny, pony pleaser — paying no attention to the oodles of distinctive purple lipstick that still stained it from tip to base. You were too busy deciding which of Pinkie Pie’s horsey holes to use first! That oversized donut was a pleasure beyond compare, winking as always beneath her playfully twitching tail. Yet it wouldn’t be long before the growth of your foal made Pinkie’s tender marehood a forbidden zone for your huge, womb pummelling cock.

Once “Lil’ Cheese” was born, Pinkie’s time in your herd would come to an end. She would return to her husband’s bed and raise your child as his. That meant tonight might be your last shot at the heaven sent pleasure of Pinkie Puss... shouldn’t you enjoy it while you had the chance?

Yet the moment you placed a commanding hand on Pinkie’s gigadonkadonk, she turned back at you with eyes brimming with playful anger. “Hey, cut it out!” Pinkie squealed. She firmly clamped her cheeks shut with a loud CLAP! that could have severed your dick from its root. “My funholes are off limits tonight!”

“W-why? What’s wrong?” Your mind raced, fearing for the worst. Could Pinkie be suffering from a lack of vitamins as well?

“Ain‘t nothin’ wrong, sugarcube,” Applejack nodded at you from her undignified position, splayed out upon the kitchen floor. “We’s just goin’ dick free fer Nightmare Night. We can’t have ya spillin’ none o’ that precious seed.”

“Whoa, AJ, check out this super spooky makeup job!” Pinkie booped your purple stained member with a hoof, sending it bouncing to and fro, tossing thick ropes of spicy precum across the party pony’s muzzle. “It looks almost like Rarity sucked him off, even though we all agreed to leave him alone tonight! Scaaary!”

“I ain’t so sure that’s part o’ his costume, Pinkie,” Applejack mused. “Still, what’s Nightmare Night without a prank or two? Let’s let Rares have her fun, I’m sure our stud will be fine.”

“W-why?” you asked with trepidation. “What do you have planned for me tonight?”

“Why, nothin’, o’ course,” Applejack stated with a sinister smile.

“You’ve been soo good to us, plowing us 24/7 for a whole year, we figured you’d like a night off, with no sex at all!” Pinkie Pie added.

“Awe, thanks!” You smiled broadly, your herd was so thoughtful! “But, wait... who’s going to suck my dick before I go to bed?”

“Ain’t nopony suckin’ yer dang dick, cause yer dick’s gettin the night off!” Applejack shouted with an exasperated tone. “Get it through yer thick head! Rarity notwithstandin’, ya ain‘t puttin’ yer gosh darn tree trunk in anythin’ tonight, and sure as shootin’ ya ain‘t shootin’ it off!”

“But... I don’t get it... how are we supposed to fuck then?” Your mind was all a-whirl at this bizarre new twist in your relationship.

“Jeepers, if I wanted a smart stallion, I should’ve married Cheese Sandwich,” Pinkie mused. “Oh, wait... I did!”

“This ain’t about sex,” Applejack patiently explained to you. “It’s Nightmare Night, so Luna an’ her thestrals is gonna be busy til mornin’. They won’t be gangbangin’ ya in the dream world like they usually is. If we leave ya alone as well, that means ya kin finally get a nice, full night o’ restful sleep.”

“Oh, sleep!” Your smile broadened. Between your demanding wives and your newborn foals, you couldn’t remember the last night when you’d enjoyed more than 2 or 3 hours of sleep. “I get it! But who’s going to—”

“Yew best not say ‘suck mah dick’ agin,” Applejack muttered.

“Su...p-p-put the foals to bed?” You concluded nervously.

“I’ll do it, duh!” Pinkie offered. “No problem!”

“What about the—”

“An’ I’ll bring out the fritters ta the barn!” Applejack added, suddenly juggling several baskets full of piping hot pastries.

“But Granny wanted—”

“An’ the pickled apples!” Applejack reached out a rear hoof and somehow picked up a huge jar of Granny Smith’s favourite treat.

“You just get in bed and start catching those Zs, lover-boy!” With a loud smooch, Pinkie added her own lipstick mark to your balls, and trotted off to your ever growing nursery with a wiggle in her tail, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

Obedient as always to the whims of your herd, you climbed the wooden stairs to the master bedroom of the farmhouse and quietly slipped beneath the warm blankets, the products of many an Apple family quilting bee. You soon found yourself gathering a pillow beneath each arm and snuggling between them. Truth be told, you had trouble falling asleep without your harem of warm, fuzzy pregnant mares to cuddle with — not to mention that tonight you’d be going without your cup of hot cocoa and your bedtime mouth hug!

What’s a colt to do? You’d become quite accustomed to your wives spoiling and pampering you nonstop, and on this night of neglect your unused dick throbbed uncomfortably against the bedsheets as you tossed and turned. After spending months as the freeuse stud of Ponyville’s largest herd, the slight relief provided by Rarity’s illicit throatjob was a mere drop in the bucket of your sexual needs.

Regardless, the gentle rays of the moon cast their calming magic upon you, and before long you found yourself slipping away into the dream world. Yet as your breath gratefully fell into the familiar rhythms of slumber, you found that one little query nagged at the inner recesses of your mind...

Why was Applejack snickering as she left you alone in the farmhouse?