“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?
Over the last year, you’d grown accustomed to entering the dream world through the grand entrance of Luna’s royal palace. As thestrals sounded trumpets and tossed flower petals, the gracious ruler of the night would greet you with a passionate kiss, then personally escort you to your custom built breeding chamber. This was a decadent hall full of lovely music, tinkling fountains, and a glorious heart shaped bed beneath a ceiling mirror. It was in this bed where you would romantically impregnate thousands of Luna’s bat-pony servants over the course of each seemingly endless night.
Thus, it came as quite a surprise when you drifted away into a lucid dream, only to find yourself still lying in your own empty and decidedly not heart shaped bed. The cozy covers atop that bed had vanished, and your well teased erection surged with strength, bobbing up and down and dribbling a river of precum onto your chest.
The supermoon of Nightmare Night beamed down on you through the bedroom window, pale and terrifying. You began to shudder, and your sense of misgiving only increased as a glowing yellow mist began to seep through the windowpane and swirl about the room!
“A-Applejack?” you cried out. “Rarity?” You called out for protection from your strong, heroic wives. Your body was seemingly frozen to the spot, yet your erection bounced and danced happily with every swirl of the strange mist. “Pinkie? B-Big Mac? Anypony? There’s a... some kind of monster... please, somepony help me!”
Before your girlish, high pitched screams could summon your concerned family, you saw the glowing mist coalesce before your eyes into the translucent shape of a kindly earth pony mare. Your terrified voice fell silent at the gentle smile on the face of this strange apparition, it seemed you were in no danger after all.
“Howdy, son,” the ghostly vision greeted you, once the last swirls of yellow mist had taken their place in her immaterial, yet plentiful form. “Mighty glad ta meet ya at last!”
“Mrs. P-Pear Butter?” you stammered. For the sight before you could be none other than your long dead mother-in-law! “Is that really you?”
“Yer family now,” the glowing earth pony giggled. “Yew can just call me ‘mum.’ Or ‘mommy,’ if yer kinky.” Trotting on air, the ghost crossed the span between the far wall and your bed in a moment, looking down at you and evaluating the most prominent of your fleshy appendages.
The family photo albums didn’t do Pear Butter justice, you thought to yourself. With that beautiful face, that vivacious mass of curly hair, and a farm-girl plot that could smother a dragon... your mother-in-law might be a ghost, but she was the most beautiful MILF you’d ever seen!
“What a yummy stud my daughters married...” the glowing earth pony growled playfully. Her eyebrows raised as she licked up the pool of precum that had accumulated at your chest and crotch, slurping a large quantity out of your navel. “Mmm...” Dropping her head further, she took the head of your straining penis into her mouth and gave a thoughtful suckle.
“B-but how is this possible?” you moaned beneath Pear Butter’s expert tongue work.
“Why, it’s Nightmare Night magic, o’ course!” The bounteous ghost-MILF was somehow able to carry on a conversation even as she buried your cock in the ectoplasmic mass of her throat, sucking on you like her undeath depended on it. “Every year, the veil between the dead and the living goes all soft an’ flimsy like. I came back to Equestria ta take a gander at my brand new grandfoals, but I reckoned it wouldn’t hurt none to check in on their fathers, too!”
Reluctantly releasing your throbbing meat from your maw, Pear Butter climbed up onto the bed where she and Bright Macintosh had spent so many happy nights. Her front hooves straddled your shoulders and her fat, heavy crotchteats rubbed against your chest as she lowered her squirming hips, feeling for your eager shaft.
“You and Big Mac have been mighty busy, an’ it does mah heart good. Course, I can’t exactly do this with Big Mac,” she added with a wink. With her pussy finally finding its target, she slipped her misty lips around your cock and began to bounce up and down, taking her pleasure with a hunk of living flesh for the first time in years.
You stilled your protests before you could even voice them. Despite being deceased, Pear Butter had every right to your manhood — the same as Granny Smith, Applejack, and the other members of the Apple family who’d joined your herd. Taking the new son-in-law for a test drive was a time honoured Equestrian tradition, after all!
“Ooh, big,” Pear Butter moaned. “It‘s stretchin’ me wide open, and I’m a ghost!” With a grunt she hilted herself on your shaft and you felt a strangely cold gush of squirt soak your thighs. Her plot slapped against you as she bounced up and down, somehow fleshy and comforting despite being a mere ghostly apparition.
“Why, this dick of yours been ridden to Tartarus and back,” Pear Butter marvelled as her hips gathered speed. “Are my daughters really that horny fer human meat?”
“I-it’s my herd, ma’am,” you explained, trying desperately to hold back against the unsurpassed suction of winking ghost pussy. “About a dozen all told... they keep me busy enough.”
“Tch, a herd.” Pear Butter shook her head sadly. She almost seemed to pity you for the loving environment you’d found yourself in! “I kept my Bright Mac far away from that nonsense. Oh, he had his side pieces, fer sure, and a threeway now and then kept a smile on his face, but a herd? Them mares will drain you dry, son!”
“I-I know it...” you moaned as Pear Butter’s clenching, squishy insides devoured your length, stroking your meat with what felt like a thousand ghostly tongues.
“Yew an’ Big Mac are such generous souls, an’ it’s gotten ya inta trouble!” Pear Butter shook her head sadly, sending her gorgeous, ghostly mane bouncing to and fro. “Ya can’t say no to a cute face or a winkin’ slit. Why, I reckon you knocked all yer wives up at once, jes cause they presented their pussies real purdy an’ begged for yer seed!”
“I-it was our wedding night!” you protested. Honestly, you’d hoped the farmer’s wife would be proud of your fertility. After all, you’d pledged not to let her daughters spend even one hour in an un-pregnant state. As soon as Apple Bloom had been cleaned up after giving birth, you’d seeded her again, right there in the hospital bed — much to Nurse Redheart’s dismay!
“Weddin’ night, shmeddin’ night,” Pear Butter scoffed. “With a herd as big as yers there’s practical thoughts ta consider. How ya gonna reckon with a dozen newborn foals, when they all start poppin’ out at once?”
“W-with love?” Your voice trembled as you considered your future as a father, practically buried beneath crying infants and dirty diapers.
“Listen, son,” Pear Butter asserted, firmly grinding her ghostly clit against your pubic bone. “Ya gotta have love, lots o’ love, but love ain’t enough. If yer gonna lead a herd, yew gotta stallion up an’ be in charge! Don’t let them silly females boss ya around. They signed up fer this, and they wanna be properly herded. That means yew decide when they bear yer foals.”
“B-but they need sex... all the time...” you protested.
“I didn’t say stop fuckin’ em!” Pear Butter’s sweet features became stern as she vigorously rode your cock, and you suddenly feared for the motherly spank of a wooden spoon on your disobedient behind. “Ya ever hear o’ contraception, or doin’ it up the butt?”
“Y-yes, ma’am...” you whimpered. “I do all my wives up the butt, most every day.”
“There’s a good husband.” Pear Butter smiled once more, satisfied that you knew your place. Her nether-realm nether lips grasped and stroked you, filling you with a mother’s love even as her fat mommy ghost-plot filled the air with loud, smacking plaps.
“My Bright Mac coulda knocked me up countless times,” she reminisced, “but we took it slow. Don’t yew dare think he ever left me unsatisfied, but he didn’t go breedin’ me willy nilly, neither. He only blessed me with a foal when he felt the time was right. There‘s somethin’ bout a stallion’s intuition in such matters, an’ the results speak fer themselves... I reckon we ended up with the three finest foals in Equestria!”
“S-say, where is Bright Mac?” you asked. You’d always felt nervous when seducing another stallion’s mate, and family stories of Bright Mac pounding fence-posts into the ground with his bare hooves made you fear for your safety. In the modern Equestria, it was a matter of proud tradition that equine hotwives should sample every cock that married into the family. Yet Bright Mac was an old fashioned stallion, and might not see his beloved’s needs in the same light.
“Oh, mah stud’s off payin’ a visit to Chiffon Swirl’s dream,” Pear Butter explained. “He always did have a crush on that chubby cutie.” She chuckled indulgently. “Ya know how stallions are... the pussy’s always tighter on the other side o’ the fence!”
Despite the aspersion cast upon your sex, you had to agree. You’d found yourself ogling the mares of your brother-in-law’s herd more than once, fantasizing about hilting within them and chasing away Big Mac’s seed with your own. Cheerilee, Sugar Belle, Zecora and Marble Pie all had bodies that wouldn’t quit — never mind that you already had a dozen equally gifted females to tend to!
You shyly ran a hand down Pear Butter’s fluffy barrel and stroked the thick, suckable buds of her nipples. She smiled and threw her head back as she rode you, tossing her mane like a supermodel as you teased and pinched. Her breath came hard and heavy as you both raced towards climax, finally meeting each other in a grand burst of pleasure.
With a cry that echoed through the night, you lurched your hips and spewed a thick load of human sperm up into Pear Butter’s swirling, misty insides. The ghostly MILF collapsed onto your chest as her passion took her, kissing you hungrily and moaning out her own climax. You peered through your mother-in-law’s transparent body and watched with amazement as her womb seemingly sucked the cum out of your cock, contracting and squeezing to pull every drop out of you and save it within her.
“Heh heh... good ta see that mummy’s still got it!” Pear Butter rubbed her toned farmwife tummy with satisfaction, and you beheld a strange glow being kindled deep within her as the last of your seed flooded her thirsty womb.
“I-I can go again,” you offered, pointing through your lover’s insides to the still stiff rod that pulsed within. After nights spent in Luna’s service you’d found that your virility in the dream world was nearly unlimited, and the slick, swirling feel of Pear Butter’s ghosthorsepussy was an experience you didn’t want to give up!
“Yew best be ready to go again, son,” Pear Butter chuckled, “cause we ain’t done yet — not by a long shot.” She turned her head towards the bedroom door. “Y’all come on in, ladies!” she called out.
Before your unbelieving eyes a vast quantity of glowing mist swirled in beneath the door, swiftly spreading through the bedroom and separating into the images of countless ghosts. Mare-ghosts, all of them — lovely ghosts with plentiful plots, heavy teats and glowing apples for cutie marks!
“Good ta see yew gals agin,” Pear Butter smiled, as the shapes of her in-laws materialized into the bedroom she’d once shared with her husband. Heedless of the lonely inches of cock that slurped from her cunt, she climbed off of you and began hugging the assembled mares. “Now this is what I call a family reunion!”
Dozens of ghostly hotties greeted Pear Butter cheerfully and gawked at your alien body as you lay on the bed. Your erection stood stiff and proud before the appreciative crowd, glistening with your mother-in-law’s fluids as well as your own.
“Whoo-wee!” cried out a sassy young earth pony you recognized from ancient family photos as Granny Smith’s mother. “Looks like Equestria’s changed quite a bit since I were alive!” The foregone mare raised the brim of her ghostly cowboy hat to get a better look at you, licking her lips and winking salaciously.
“An odd creature, by my sooth,” murmured an old fashioned ghost who modestly clothed the body of a pornstar beneath a translucent dress and bonnet. “Goodwife Butter, how satisfies his stallionhood?”
Pear Butter’s ghost put a hoof to her chin as she evaluated the carnal ride you’d just given her. “It’s a weird shape,” she admitted, “but right pleasin’ all the same, an’ his seed is good as gold. I reckon we got time fer each o’ us sadly departed mares ta have a lil’ fun, before Nightmare Night comes ta an end.”
“Primus habebo!” You heard a commanding voice from the rear of the crowd. Countless strong mares ceased eyefucking you and stepped to the side for the wielder of that voice, some even bowing to show their respect. Through the midst of the misty crowd came a stern yet stunningly beautiful earth pony mare, a MILF among MILFs. She was dressed in a toga that strained to conceal the overflowing body of a fertility goddess. Her wheat coloured mane was done up in a sculpted bun, topped with a simple circlet and not a hair out of place.
“This here’s Pomarium Fertilis,” Pear Butter explained to you. “She done founded the Apple clan, some 800 years ago! Don’t yew worry, she’s a real sweetie... once ya get ta know ’er.”
“C-charmed,” you stammered out, as the haughty matron hiked her toga and floated atop your supine form, burying your throbbing staff deep within her burning wetness.
“Celestia has voluptates laudari debet.” Pomarium Fertilis spoke in the ancient language known as Pony Latin, but the clenching of her hungry cunt told you everything you needed to know about her needs. As inch after inch of you was raptured up into her heavenly vag, she raised a hoof to her gathered descendants and proclaimed: “Eius opera hac nocte magnum decus familiae nostrae afferent.”
Unable to resist the commanding curves that had been passed on to countless generations of mares, you gripped Pomarium’s thick and powerful plot with both hands. Your fingers sank slightly into her misty form as you humped away, frantically thrusting into the ghost’s clinging marehood from beneath. Finally cracking an indulgent smile at this proof of your need, this daughter of Old Equestria wrapped her front hooves around your head and lowered her muzzle towards your mouth. Her transparent lips met yours in a passionate kiss, and in the moment that she claimed you as her own, you felt as if you were truly now a part of the Apple family.
For a man who seeded a thousand thestrals every single night, you found tonight’s assignment in the dream world to be easy as apple pie. The lineage of the Apple family numbered only in the dozens, and as Nightmare Night slowly inched towards its dawn, you found the strength to go several rounds with each lovely mare. However dominating these bygone matriarchs might have been in life, they had the same needs as any other woman. A big cock, a hard fuck, and a thick load of warm cum to remind them of the good times they’d once enjoyed.
One after another, ghostly lights were kindled deep within long-unused wombs as you flooded each with potent human sperm. Another man might have took this as an ominous portent, but you considered it to be a simple signal that you’d done your duty as a male, and thought no more about it. After each round of lovemaking, you generously allowed the mare you’d just pleasured to suck her essence off of your cum-slick meat, keeping you stiff as a board between lovely, if insubstantial, lips as you enjoyed the hungry cock worship that was the Apple family trademark. Throughout the centuries, these country girls had always known how to treat their stallions right!
Once each eager pussy had been bred three or four times over, you and Pear Butter introduced a bit of modern spice to the assembled ancestors, by demonstrating how hard a mare could cum simply by being fucked in the ass. Before long, you found yourself balls deep in the virgin plots of medieval farm-wives, training ghostly buttholes to stretch around your fleshy knob, baptizing bowels with the hot loads they’d never felt in life, and producing delicious anal gapes that put mortal ponuts to shame.
Naturally, this was also the night when your tongue and your alien fingers were put to the ultimate test. You found hovering hind legs spreading before you and dripping pussies constantly pressed against your lips, and did your best to convince your ghostly visitors that their living descendants were being well taken care of. Every female in Apple Bloom’s bloodline was treated to expert cunnilingus, the inevitable result being quaking maregasms that soaked your face with that mysterious glowing mist.
It was one of the most passionate experiences of your life, and near the end you mentally thanked Applejack for convincing you to take an early bedtime. Yet even this long and magical Nightmare Night had to eventually crawl towards its conclusion. As dawn broke, you barely had time to give goodbye kisses to the dozens of lovely ghosts who haunted Sweet Apple Acres, before their immaterial forms faded into smoke and disappeared back into the realm of spirit.
These fine ladies had carried the Apple name for centuries, and you wanted to express your gratitude to the lineage which had birthed so many of your beautiful wives. You poured all of the passion you could into those final embraces: giving each mare one last kiss, taking one last glance at the heavenly light shining from her womb, before your lover shimmered into nothingness for another year...
As Pear Butter plunged her now familiar tongue deep into your mouth, you closed your eyes and felt the dream world slowly fade around you. You found yourself lying once again in your bed, with your mother-in-law’s probing oral digit replaced by something distinctly fleshy and real: the welcome texture of Scootaloo’s milk dripping nipple and the fleshy warmth of her bursting teat.
As consciousness slowly returned to your fuzzy mind, you gratefully restored your strength by suckling at the huge mommy milker, feeling the power grow in your loins with each gulp you took of your wife’s life giving fluid. A breakfast of rich mare milk ensured that you began each day at your maximum level of vitality, no matter what travails you’d been through in the dream world.
Scootaloo’s scrawny body had blossomed at the first drop of your seed, her tiny mosquito bites swiftly swelling to a set of milktanks larger than your head. Her productivity was beyond compare as well, with a blue ribbon from the Ponyville Fair marking your beloved tomboy as prize livestock indeed. Even your ravenous foals could drink only so much milk from this blessed set of Scootahooters, and it was a husband’s responsibility to nurse off the excess — once again, Equestria’s un-alterable traditions had spoken!
As litres of warm pegasus milk sprayed at high pressure down your gulping throat, you began to hear loud thumps from the bedroom next door, as well as repeated moans of “Eeyup!” It seemed that Big Mac had begun the morning servicing of his herd, and your wives were eager to get started as well! You smelled the scent of farmhouse coffee, heard the chatter of mares as they trotted to the bed, and soon enough felt fuzzy plots and dampened slits rubbing against your naked form. The bedroom that had so recently been full of ghosts was now full of real, live mares... a dozen lovely ladies whose holes cried out for human cock!
Opening your eyes at last, you stood up and climbed off of the bed, wiping a few last droplets of milk from your lips. The day had begun, your wives were assembled, and every eye in the room was pinned to your veiny, bobbing erection. It was time to put what you’d learned from Pear Butter into hot, sweaty practice!
“Good mornin’, sweetheart,” Applejack placed a possessive hoof on your thigh, holding a clipboard in the other. “We got today‘s studdin’ schedule all worked out, whenever yer ready ta get started lickin’ an’ fuckin’ an’ cummin’. First up is yers truly, o’course—”
You held up a commanding hand, taking control of your herd for the very first time. “Not so fast, AJ!” you stated firmly. “There’s going to be some changes around this place! Last night I was visited by a ghost, and she gave me some advice on handling my herd.”
“Whoa, a ghost, super spoopy!” Pinkie Pie yelled out. “Was she hot?”
Your other wives gasped wordlessly at this revelation, save only Applejack. “A ghost, eh?” she asked slyly. “I‘m guessin’ it was Momma?”
“Y-yeah, how did you know?”
“I was hopin’ I could introduce yew two,” Applejack confessed. “Momma haunts the farm most every Nightmare Night, an’ we used ta while away the hours with some ole fashioned girl talk. Last year she said she was proud o’ me, grown up all big an’ strong, but I should start doin’ anal. Best advice I ever did get...”
“WellI talked to her last night,” you confirmed, “and she set me straight. There’ll be no more schedules around here. I’m in charge of this herd, and I decide how and when you girls get my cock. As for foals, I’m afraid that’s my prerogative as well. From now on you get bred when I say you get bred, and that’s final.”
“We’ll see bout that,” you heard Granny Smith mutter. She was hardly the only mare to begin grumbling at your announcement of the male dominance that had long been missing from your herd. You momentarily shivered, as your wives had you vastly outnumbered, but the thought of Pear Butter’s stern glare stiffened your spine.
After all, you were more to these ladies than a huge cock and a talented tongue — you were a proud and powerful stallion, and the mares of your herd would come to respect your firm, yet fair leadership! With a loud clearing of your throat you called for your lovers’ attention, and continued laying down the law.
“I’ve already given each of you at least one foal,” you reminded. “We’re about to have our hooves full! We can’t keep cranking out dozens of babies, year after year.”
“Like heck we can’t!” Apple Cobbler yelled.
“And besides, I want to be able to enjoy your pussies for a while, before I get you pregnant again and we have to switch back to butt sex,” you added sheepishly.
“The boy makes a good point...” Jonagold murmured.
You nodded firmly and set out the final new rule for your wives. “Finally, every pregnant mare in this family is going to suck me off at least once a day. Human sperm has the vitamins you need to keep our foals healthy, and I aim to provide it to you — straight from my balls. I want to make sure all of you girls get enough, so let’s get started with the blowjobs, OK?”
This final bit of news was greeted with a more positive reception: a chorus of moans, drooling mouths and lifted tails, marred only by the grimace upon Rarity’s muzzle.
“Vitamins?” whispered Cookie Crumbles to her daughter. “What the hay is our dumb hunk of fuckbeef talking about now?”
“Why I haven’t the foggiest, mother,” Rarity stuttered with a blush, even as she excitedly applied fresh purple lipstick onto her lips. “Best to open wide and indulge these silly male fantasies, wahaha!”
“It seems I’ve taught you well, dear — that’s exactly how I keep your father in line.” With a nod, Cookie Crumbles stepped forward and planted her mature lips on the head of your cock, presenting the stallionhood she craved with a morning kiss that swiftly became a hungering suckjob. With loving coos and nickers your other wives swarmed around you, eagerly awaiting the morning strokes and headpats that would signify your favour and mark them as your eager herdsluts.
Tuning out the giggling, feminine chaos that surrounded her, the talented Cookie easily deepthroated your mare-pleaser, cleaning off the greasy residue of countless ectoplasmic orgasms. With an indulgent smile, Rarity leaned in beneath her mother’s bobbing chin and took one of your balls into her lipsticked mouth with a loud slurping noise. Sweetie Belle was quick to join the family fun as well. The pregnant young unicorn took up the coveted spot between your butt cheeks, pressing her muzzle against your well tended pucker and lapping up the sweat of a night’s exertion.
You sighed with contentment, tenderly stroking Cookie’s sensitive horn as she sucked for her creamy breakfast. Mother-daughter orgies were always your favourite. You loved to watch the generations bond over service to your cock... all as the next generation grew within their ever widening bellies.
Applejack and Apple Bloom reared up onto their hind legs and embraced you from either side, rubbing their pregnant tummies against you, and pursing their lips to kiss and suck your human nipples. “Bout time our stud took charge o’ the herd an’ started usin’ us properly,” Applejack told her sister with pride. “I was startin’ ta worry he was losin’ interest! Our momma musta given him a real talkin’ to.”
“Gee, Applejack,” Applebloom piped up, her teeth gently biting at your sensitive nipple, “is it true that Momma took two dicks up her ponut at the same time?”
“So the story goes,” Applejack chuckled, working your other nip with great vigour, even as her own teats dribbled their milky sweetness upon the floor. “Y’see, one sunny day, Dad an’ his best friend Burnt Oak was arguin’ somethin’ fierce...”
From the next room over you heard a loud masculine bellow and a burst of zebra rhyme as Big Mac ploughed his first of many loads deep into his wife Zecora’s eager body. The day’s work had truly begun here at Sweet Apple Acres, and it was unlikely that either you or your brother-in-law would be leaving your respective bedrooms before suppertime.
You were already on the hook for 12 lovemaking sessions each and every day, and from now on you’d be the lucky recipient of a dozen blowjobs to boot. You’d have to constantly guzzle that Apple family virility elixir, but you were certain you’d have time to catch an hour or two of sleep every night. That way you’d be able to continue helping Luna out with the never ending task of breeding her thestral army.
Cookie Crumbles moaned gently as she tended to you with the skill that came from a lifetime’s experience worshipping the male organ. With a gentle “mlem,” Rarity spat out one testicle and slurped the other into her hungry purple maw, devoted beyond words to the praise of your virile orbs. Meanwhile Sweetie Belle ferociously tongued out your butthole, searching for your tender P-spot. You smiled as you gripped Applejack by the mane, lifted her muzzle and firmly met her lips with yours. Yes, things were going to be a lot different around here, now that you were definitely in charge of your herd...
