Affectionate Antipathy

Chapters

Chapter 1
Chapter 9
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 10

Chapter 1

Hearing the beaded curtain leading into her hut clatter softly, Sahira’s ears perked up. She wasn’t expecting any visitors, nor did she want any guests, so having somepony see themselves into her home was enough to make a scowl form on her muzzle. She glanced to a dagger resting on her table, shook her head, then silently cursed.

“Sahira?” A low, sonorous voice intoned from behind her.

Turning slowly, she was greeted by a most unusual sight. Most zebras avoided her like the plague, yet a towering, striped stud stood before her. With a wild, unkempt mane, emerald eyes, and a white marking covering his upper face and muzzle, he regarded her with an indifferent expression. She would have been offended by the intrusion and by the stranger’s utter lack of respect, but her ire was tempered when her eyes drifted down his broad chest, past his chiseled abs, and to the immense, obsidian package hanging from beneath his loincloth.

“That would be correct,” she murmured as she tore her eyes off his endowment. “And you might be?”

He gave a small bow, barely a nod of his head, and took a step closer to her. “Shaka.”

Waiting for him to continue and to say what he’d come for, she took the silent moment to study him. His state of undress wasn’t out of place for a Zebrican native, giving the impression that wasn’t Equestrian born, though his demeanor struck her as off. Most of her kind, being a zebra herself, would recognize the den of a witch when they saw one - moreover, she had a bit of a reputation both in and out of her homeland. As she bided her time, her thoughts wandered.

Shaka mutely surveyed his surroundings and drank in every little detail. The fetishes, charms, and idols hanging from the walls and ceiling were all legitimate, not the paltry, frankly offensive trinkets that tourists or tryhards would have, and the smell of rare herbs and concoctions hung heavily in the air. He had no doubt that he’d found what and who he was looking for - unfortunately, as he swung his attention over at the mare peering over at him, he was slightly underwhelmed.

Sahira was a somewhat infamous figure in certain circles, a capricious and ill-tempered shaman who was allegedly as prone to tormenting her clients as she was to helping them - allegedly. Adorned with a simple loincloth, a necklace of teeth, and a blackened bone mask, her attire, or lack thereof, left perilously little to the imagination. Honestly, aside from her golden, goat-like eyes, there was nothing particularly fetching or intimidating about her at all.

Shaking his head, he chuckled. “Well this is disappointing…”

“Do tell,” she coolly began, “what’s disappointing?”

“This,” he sighed, waving a hand at her. “Don’t get me wrong, the mask is a cute touch, but you don’t quite live up to the legend.”

Her breasts were small, barely a handful, and she was remarkably thin - so thin that he could see her ribs clearly. In a test of physical might, there was no question that he could break her in half - outside of more conventional realms, he felt confident that whatever power she wielded couldn’t rival his own. With a heavy sigh, he locked eyes with her.

Sahira curtseyed and flashed her teeth at him. “Saddened though I may be, you have me at a disadvantage. You know my name and went to the trouble of searching me out, leading me to believe you’re aware of what I am, yet I’ve never heard of you…”

The small slight caused Shaka’s mirth to waver. “You’ll become very familiar with me, if you don’t bite your tongue…”

Straightening, she held a hand to her chest and feigned a gasp. “Is that a threat?”

“More of a promise,” he noted. Lifting and turning a hand, he snorted. “Come now, let’s have a good look at you.”

He was slightly surprised when she obliged him, turning in place while running a hand over her chest. Unlike himself, having a slate-grey coat lined with black stripes, her fur was mostly white, while her mane and tail, each shaggy mat of thick dreadlocks, were jet-black. She was far from perfect, so petite and emaciated as to appear sickly, but she would do.

Coming around to face him, Sahira placed a hand on her hip. “Now you…”

He balked, his eyes widening and head rearing back as he stared down at her. “I beg your par-”

“Now you,” she insisted, cutting him off. “I like to look at my new toys before I play with them - if they’re worth playing with at all, that is…”

Pressing his palms to her, he languidly wheeled around. A fine back, toned glutes, and a delightfully muscular physique - yes, he would do quite nicely as a fun little distraction. It had been some time since somepony had been dumb enough to come to her home and unwittingly make themselves available for her, and she wasn’t about to let the opportunity slip through her fingers.

“Satisfied?” he inquired.

“Almost,” she breathed. “Strip for me.”

He didn’t hesitate to tug at his loincloth and let it flutter to the ground. Yes - yes, this would do nicely. His endowment was immaculate, the sort of thing one was hard pressed to find in the land of ponies, and its immense size was complemented by a pair of plump, cum-laden balls hanging behind it.

Offering a hand, Shaka nodded to her. “If you’d be so kind…”

“‘Tis only fair,” she mockingly lamented as she pulled at the leather string around her waist. Leaning back and propping one arm against her table, she reached down and spread herself for him. “Better?”

Her shameless display was as provocative as it was foolish, exposing her slavering, rosy interior to him, although he couldn’t fully judge her from looks alone. Crossing to her, he knelt down and brought his snout to her nethers. Remaining motionless, she watched as he placed a hand on her abdomen.

“Still fertile,” he remarked. As he drew a breath through his nose, the scent of her arousal tickled his sinuses. “And you’re turned on - naughty.”

She shrugged while he stood and came to loom over her. “I’m a great many things. May I?”

Following her gaze, he peered down at his crotch. “You may…”

He flexed his groin and sent blood surging into his steadily hardening stallionhood. If she wanted to inspect him, that was permissible - besides, it wasn’t like she wouldn’t be getting very, very familiar with him before long. Seeing his length in her small, dainty hands, he snickered.

“I was going to ask you to become my apprentice, but it seems like you’ve got something else in mind,” he mused while she casually stroked and fondled him.

“Apprentice,” she dully repeated. Shifting a hand, she cradled and gingerly squeezed one of his balls. “Don’t be so silly. While you may have some knowledge of the old ways, you’re but a pup compared to me - still, I’m sure I could have my uses for you.”

Cocking his head, he peaked a brow. “Oh?”

Her delicate touch wasn’t unpleasant, although it was her comment that caught his interest. Somehow, without him having made mention of it, she’d discerned that he was versed in various arts. Be it from a keen eye, sharp senses, or something altogether different, she’d picked up on something few, if any had before.

Nodding, she rose up and patted the trunk-like base of his shaft. “You’ll make for a fine pet, yes.”

His quiet laughter was amusing. He hadn’t the slightest idea what he was in for, but she did. There’d been times when somepony would show up to challenge her, either trying to usurp her or kill her outright, and not a single one of them had succeeded. For all his size, strength, and supposed arcane know-how, he was nothing compared to her.

“This - pardon,” he giggled while stroking his brow and attempting to collect himself. “This is all rather entertaining. You see, as I mentioned, I had intended to take you as an apprentice, although that’s not quite fitting - no, given your lack of respect and petulant conduct, I believe you’ll make an excellent sow.”

“Sow,” she echoed, letting the word roll off her tongue. Cupping her breasts, she smirked up at him. “You’d make me some unsightly, obedient broodmare?”

Turning his head from side to side, Shaka reached out and drew a finger around her right nipple. “Goodness, no - well, not exactly. You’ll be far from unsightly, but you will most definitely be obedient. By the time I’m done with you, there’ll be no limit to the depths of your depravity.”

“And if the depths of my depravity are already endless ~ what then?” she countered as she clutched the base of his cock. “Would you turn me loose as some crazed, sex-starved beast for anypony and everypony to make use of?”

“It would be the least I could do for you - sadly, after all the ruttings I will have given you, you won’t be satisfied by anything but the largest dragons or the most obscenely well-hung creatures in this or any other realm,” he tutted.

As their eyes met, a conclusion was reached. A gauntlet had been laid, a challenge between two titans in their own right, and neither was willing to back down. With their wills only rivaled by their hubris, the pair stared one another down. Sahira was first to move, withdrawing her hand and folding her arms over her chest.

“I have a proposition,” she purred. “Whichever of us is able to walk out of my hut will win the favor of the other.”

“A competition?” he beamed. “And the terms of this contest?”

Remaining where she was, she idly stroked her marehood. “What terms? Did I not just say that the winner will be the one who’s standing?”

He licked his lips as he peeked down at her loins. “You did…”

“So you aren’t as simple as you look,” she tittered. “Since I’m a gracious and forgiving host, I’ll let you go first.”

Sinking to his knees, he placed his hands on her hips. “How very generous of you.”

“You’re quite welcome,” she quipped. “Now be a good colt and warm me up. I’d like you to enjoy me before you’re a drooling, dull-witted mongrel.”

Shaka meandered forward, keeping his eyes on her face, and kissed the plump, warm mound of her sex. She was dumber than he thought, allowing him to make the opening move after telling him there he wouldn’t be hindered by any conditions of their engagement, although he wasn’t going to complain. Breaking her would be trivial, and he was going to savor every delicious second of it.

Burying his muzzle between her thighs, he drew his tongue up her snatch and to her clit. Her taste was exquisite, as sharp as she was, and her aroma was intoxicating. Bending anypony to his will sumptuously hedonistic affair, but he’d be lying if he said conquering rebellious mares wasn’t particularly enchanting. He couldn’t count how many ponies, mares or otherwise, he’d reduced to gibbering, mindless mess that lived to please him.

Sahira shuddered and bucked against his face. “When I eventually tire of you and sell you off to some desperate pony mare, I’ll be able to speak highly of your oral skills.”

As he leered up at her, her lips split in a wolfish grin. She almost felt bad for him - almost, but that wasn’t enough to make her take pity on him. Closing her eyes, she basked in his affection and relished the sensation of his full, pouting lips on her clit. Had she anticipated her day taking such a salacious turn? No. Was she going to make the most of her impending plaything? Absolutely.

With but a thought, she put her gift to work. Her marehood winked, sending rivulets of her juices into Shaka’s maw while filling the air with her bouquet. Had she been anypony else, he would have assumed she was just appreciating his efforts - regrettably for him, she wasn’t anypony else.

It was only sporting to begin things slowly, so she gave him a literal and figurative taste of her power. Poor bastard - he was blissfully ignorant that he’d fallen right into her clutches. Within seconds, his thoughts would dull - after a few minutes, she’d have him wrapped around her finger. Rolling her head back, she started when he growled and gripped her waist.

Shaka gingerly nibbled her clit as he swung her legs over his shoulders and got to his feet. The jolt that coursed through him, setting his nerves alight and giving him goosebumps, wasn’t from excitement - not entirely. Her magic was exotic, similar to his own but completely distinct, and its tang was electrifying.

Rising up and keeping her against the wall, he ravished her. For her to call upon her abilities, however trivial, at such an early stage in their game was cute - adorable even. While he may call upon his otherworldly talents, should he truly need them, his tongue would suffice for the time being.

While she locked her legs around the back of his head, her fingers glided through his mane. He’d admit that there was something charming about her, in an unpolished, haughty way, but she left much to be desired. For starters, her attitude was atrocious - secondly and just as prudently, she was in desperate need of a meal.

Pulling back just enough to get some air, he turned his head upward. “Would you like to - Mmmph?!”

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” she whispered, jamming his snout to her pussy.

It was one thing for her to talk down to him, and he could forgive her laughable attempt to beguile him, although his patience with her was quickly reaching its limit. Stepping back, he wrenched his head free and set his jaw. Though he’d intended to play nice, even being willing to let her suck him off before he utterly destroyed her, she’d struck a nerve.

“You didn’t,” he responded, “but that hardly matters.”

As if knowing what was coming, she slipped her legs from over his shoulders and closed them under his arms. “Don’t tell me I’ve upset you.”

He lowered her gradually and stopped when he kissed the tip of his length to her sex. “Hardly…”

“Thank goodness, I was worried that - Aaaaaahn!” she cried out as he impaled her.

“Much better,” he cooed.

She was tight, hot, and far more accommodating than he’d hoped she would be, yet her interior wasn’t as appealing as the blissful howl that rang in his ears. Guiding her downward, he filled her with inch after inch of his shaft. Now that he’d shut her up, he could put her in her place and show her who she was really dealing with.

After touching his medial ring to her entrance, he rolled his hips back, unsheathed a fraction of his length, and started thrusting. Each plunge was delivered slowly and methodically, merely gracing her cervix with his cock-head, but that was with good reason. Sex, as with most things in life, was an art, and there was no sense in rushing it.

Clenching her teeth, Sahira focused. Shaka was big in every sense of the word, testing her limits and stretching her open in a way that only a handful of creatures ever had, but she could handle him. As she slowly exhaled, with her body pinned against the wall, the tension bled from her.

While there was no way she’d ever openly say it, he felt incredible. The size and shape of his length, having a slight upward curve, was perfectly complemented by his technique - in short, he had the experience necessary to wield his ungainly tool. Constricting around him, she gazed into his eyes.

“Pity,” she muttered, “I thought a brute like you wouldn’t be so delicate.”

Without breaking his rhythm, he brought his muzzle to the side of her face. “Patience…”

She breathed hotly on his ear. “Let yourself go…”

He stiffened in more ways than one, his cock throbbing and muscles going taut, while his pace quickened. Just like that, she had him. The three simple words, given in a hushed tone, were laced with power to compel him. Kissing her way down his collar, she dipped her head and bit his nipple. All stallions, regardless of how they perceived themselves, were animals, and she was quite the proficient tamer.

Quietly snarling, he did his best to plow her through the wall at her back. His savagery was decadent, his grunts a symphony, and the look of sheer concentration on his face, borne from his unwillingness to submit to her, filled her with glee. It was a shame that he’d folded so easily, barely putting up a fight - then again, it was hardly shocking.

Just as she began to revel in her victory, he shifted on his heel. The move was blindly fast, so quickly delivered that she hadn’t registered what had happened until she was sailing across the room, and it took her completely off guard. With a resounding pomf, she landed on the bed.

“On your knees,” he commanded, stomping over to her.

Doing as he’d asked, if only out of curiosity, she rolled over and pushed herself up. “A favorite of yours?”

“No,” he spat, “but a mongrel like you deserved to be fucked like a dog.”

“So mean,” she teased, bracing her legs and swinging her tail aside. “Do you talk to all your lovers this way?”

Eyeing her tush, he forced himself to sneer. “I do, as a matter of fact, but that’s hardly important - you see, lovers would imply that we’re equals.”

The sight of her presenting herself gave him the smallest moment for pause. To fall under her spell, however briefly, was unsettling, yet the speed with which she’d recovered and asked for more was all the more startling. There was a chance he’d underestimated her - a slim chance, but a chance all the same, and that notion piqued his interest.

She shuffled back and brought her knees to the edge of her mattress. “Touché - however, you could be saying that because you’re nothing more than a beast yourself.”

Coming up behind her, he placed one hand on her hip while using the other to grab the root of his stallionhood. “We’ll see about that…”

At a crossroads, and still under the influence of whatever hex she’d cast upon him, his mind raced. He was tempted to ravage her, to fuck her so brutally that she wouldn’t be able to pull any tricks on him, but that would be reckless. She’d seen through him, discerning that he wasn’t some ordinary stud, and it was possible that she was trying to bait him into acting hastily.

Settling on a compromise, he lazily drove into her until his medial ring was seated against her entrance. She was a crafty one, he’d give her that, yet he wasn’t without tricks of his own. As he draped himself over her back and glided a hand around to her breasts, his hips slammed forward.

While he couldn’t see her reaction, he could definitely feel it. Her womb yielded, engulfing his cock-head and the first few inches of his length, and a hushed whimper escaped her. It may have been premature to consider such things, but the thought of finding a mate worthy of his seed was titillating. He gave her no time to adjust, pulling his crown free from her cervix and causing her to shudder.

To his amazement, as he pulled back and readied himself to plow her, she threw her weight back and buried the entirety of his shaft. Whether she was a masochist or simply a whore was anypony’s guess - regardless, her impetuous nature warmed the depths of his heart. At best, he really would make her his personal sow - at worst, there were likely a few pony cities that would appreciate having a vacuous, exotic cum-dump at their disposal.

Sahira fell into rhythm with him, bucking back to meet his thrusts, while she snaked a hand beneath herself and to her groin. For a stallion of any persuasion, even a Zebrican, to despoil her so thoroughly and swiftly was unheard of, and she wouldn’t deny how incredible it felt to be used in such an unseemly manner. As her fingers danced over her clit and caressed his pistoning length, her thoughts sank into a rapturous haze.

With each wilder and more gratifying than the last, visions assailed her. One minute, she was worshiping Shaka’s cock while he sat on a throne - the next, she was nursing a pair of his foals as he lavished her marehood with affection. Her imagination ran wild with possibilities, of futures with the stud - her stud, and the urge to surrender herself to him grew stronger with every one that passed.

Moving in tune with him, she met every ounce of his zeal. His burning desire to sire a foal with her was almost palpable. Every throb of his glorious stallionhood, each thunderous beat of his magnificent heart, pushed her closer and closer to release. It was only when she teetered on the precipice of oblivion, toeing the line of a climax, that it hit her - she’d been had.

She swam for the surface of her primitive wants, desperate for air and the salvation of a clear mind, but it was too late. The orgasm which struck her was breathtaking, curling her toes and leading to her jaw hanging in a mute, noiseless wail of ecstasy and torment, and it dealt her a ruinous blow. As her marehood convulsed and erupted like a geyser, bathing his lower half in her precious nectar, her fury compounded by an order of magnitude.

Shakily turning her head, she grimaced back at him. Her climax hadn’t slowed him in the slightest - if anything, he was rutting her more relentlessly ever, although his appearance had changed. Traced along his frame, beneath his fur and hide, his skeletal structure glowed faintly. The hallmark of his power could have - would have been jarring, had she not been a shaman herself, but that was far from the case.

Holding his pace, he placed a foot on the bed beside her knee. “Perhaps cumming again will lighten your mood…”

“That’s quite alright,” she seethed. “I believe I’ll - Hhnnnngh!”

Her arms gave out, her face fell to the sheets, and her eyelids fluttered as she was wracked with a second, even more potent climax. This was bad - very bad. They’d only been at it for a short time, easily less than half an hour, and yet he’d forced her to cum twice. Rage warred with rapture, while she struggled to wrestle control of her treacherous body from her insufferable id.

His new position, situated above and behind her, was not helping matters. The way his medial ring ground against her g-spot, and how he was fucking her cervix, made it nigh impossible to wade through an incomprehensible sea of pleasure - worse still, his fat, pendulous balls smacked a drumbeat against her aching clit. If she didn’t act quickly, she’d cum again - if she came again, it would be all the more difficult to turn the tide against him.

“I wasn’t asking,” he hissed in her ear.

Summoning her strength, she shifted and kissed his cheek. “Lala chali…”

Shaka found himself staring up at the ceiling. The cool air against his slick erection was unnerving, yet it paled in comparison to an ominous chuckling from beside him. Going to turn and push himself up, unsure of what had just happened, he discovered he wasn’t able to move anything but his head.

“Comfortable?” a chillingly familiar voice inquired.

Peering down his supine body, his eyes shot to the foot of the bed. Not only had he been immobilized, but Sahira was standing at the end of the mattress. Dampness glimmered on her inner thighs, her right cheek and chin were wet with saliva, and she was unabashedly fingering herself. What she’d done with him - to him was a mystery, but it was clear that she was far from finished with him.

Curling his lip, he squinted over at her. “If you’ll pardon the small interruption, I have a question…”

“Ask,” she flippantly instructed, slipping a third digit into her cunt.

He nodded to the skull-like covering over her face. “Is that the source of your power?”

“Aaaaaaah,” she sighed while lovingly caressing her mask. “It’s my mentor - that is, what’s left of him. He cursed me when I killed him to steal his power ~ can you believe that?”

He could - he truly could, yet the information didn’t disturb him. “And do you intend the same for me?”

Crawling up his body, she sluggishly made her way to his monolithic stallionhood. “Only if you want me to call you daddy…”

Something about the way she said it, coupled with his helplessness, sent a thrilled, dismayed shiver up his spine. She was clearly mad, incestuous, demented, or a combination of the three - in spite of that, he couldn’t help but smile. Spells faded, enchantments waned, and hexes weakened - as such, it wasn’t a matter of if her hold on him would diminish, but when.

Sahira dragged her tongue up the underside of his length and to its nearly fist-sized tip. A medley of flavors cascaded over her palate, though none were as sweet as the success she had just reaped. Clutching and milking pre-cum from his cock, she eagerly lapped at the cocktail of their fluids while gazing up at him.

“Such a fine prize I’ve won for myself,” she hummed as she caressed his ripe, furry nuts, “and so virile. Are you always this pent-up, or were you saving yourself for little ol’ me?”

If looks could kill, she would have been dead. He was conscious and fully aware, his senses intact and functioning normally, but she could change that - rather, she could alter it. As she breathed a word of power in a long-dead tongue, he went rigid and took a sharp breath.

Rearing back and shuffling forward, she straddled him and touched her lower lips to his crown. “You know, I’m glad you’re so terse - it’ll make your colt-like squeals and mewling all the more rewarding…”

Easing herself down, she sheathed herself upon him. Cowgirl wasn’t her favorite position, yet the control and view it afforded were unparalleled. She gyrated her hips and leaned back once she’d hilted him, giving them both a first-hand look at how immense his endowment was. Gazing downward, past her modest bosom and to her abdomen, her eyes settled on a prominent swell that snaked up from her groin to just above her navel.

The feeling of fullness he provided would be impossible to describe to the uninitiated, but she adored the intensity of it. Rising up and casting herself forward, with her display at an end, she placed her hands to either side of his chest and began to fuck herself on him. He despised her, she could practically smell a miasma of contempt radiating from his very soul, and she cherished him all the more for it.

Through sheer determination alone, Shaka fought the urge to wince. While he still couldn’t budge, that particular issue was overshadowed by a new, even more troubling development. He hadn’t understood what she’d said, only catching a few unfamiliar syllables in what sounded like ancient Abyssinian, yet what she’d done was crystal clear. All pleasure he felt, from her breath washing over his chest to her velvety marehood embracing his cock, was magnified several times over.

As he went to look away, refusing to give her any gratification, she took him by the jaw and held his head steady. “No, I want to look into your eyes when you yield. Magoti…”

Like a marionette controlled by strings, he lifted his legs, bent his knees, and planted his feet on the mattress. The fires of his wrath roared into an inferno. He wanted to scream at her, to curse her name and promise damnation to everything she held dear, yet he bit his tongue. Letting his emotions run rampant would allow the onslaught of bliss to devastate him, so he did the only thing he could do - he centered himself.

“You’re so big, Shaka,” she moaned. “Does my poor, cum-starved womb please you?”

Knitting his brow, he gave her no answer. The harridan would pay for this transgression and pay dearly - of that, he was certain. Glancing from her face to the imprint of his stallionhood, begrudgingly amazed that she could so easily ride something as large as her forearm, he felt his fleshly resolve begin to crumble. There was only so much anypony could endure, with or without the use of potions or spellcraft, and the rapture gnawing at him was so inexorable that it pushed that threshold.

Sahira’s carnal prowess was as or more impressive than her proficiency with witchcraft. Her vice-like confines squeezed him on her upstrokes, giving him fleeting glimpses of her pink interior, before relaxing and drawing him in. The sensation of her two-fold grip on him, her cervix and entrance both working his shaft, contended with the spectacle of her bouncing on his lap.

Reclined against his thighs, she took an unhurried pace and played with her tits. Spoiled for choice, and one of the only parts of him that would obey him, his eyes roamed over her svelte figure, engorged sex, perky breasts, and cruel face. To gaze longingly upon her was folly, the antithesis of what he should do, yet the sight of her was haunting and erotic in equal measure.

“You didn’t answer me,” she pouted. “Ongea…”

“It…it f…feels…” He fought every word, every syllable, yet he was unable to keep himself from speaking.

“Ongea,” she harshly demanded as she rubbed the outline of his cock in her depths.

“Good,” he croaked. “It feels good.”

Throwing her head back, she set upon him with new, wanton vigor. “There it is…”

She’d made him speak, but she hadn’t made him lie. She did feel good, far better than even he wished to acknowledge, and giving voice to that immutable fact ate away at him. He was being undone, his defenses cracking under the unimaginable weight of ecstasy, and it terrified him to think that he may actually lose.

Drawing upon his power, he clamped his eyes shut. All he needed was an opening, a single moment to enact his revenge. He fixated on his left pinkie, something so small and unobtrusive that she wouldn’t notice, and strained against his arcane bonds. Soon enough, she would regret ever daring to cross him.

Sahira drank in his expression like a fine wine, committing it to memory as she neared her third climax. There was no reason for her to hold herself back at this point, having him under her thrall, although she’d prefer to cum alongside him. While she couldn’t recall the last time she’d let somepony give her a creampie, vastly preferring her amorous suitors to blow their loads on her chest and stomach just to have them lick their seed off of her, Shaka had earned the right to bathe her interior with his essence.

Harder and harder, faster and faster, she thrashed atop him like a beast possessed. Her breaths hitched in her throat, each groan came louder than the last, and she could sense her body pleading for his seed. As she cracked one eye and glanced to one side, sensing movement, the world spun around her.

In a flash, she was on her back. Maybe she’d lost her focus and her spell had faltered, or perhaps Shaka had overpowered her hex with brute force and his own abilities - in any case, he’d gained the upper hand. Acting with a speed that belied his gargantuan size, he grabbed her by the ankles and drove her legs up to either side of her head.

“You were saying,” he grumbled, his face mere inches from her snout. Gathering up a mouthful of saliva, she spit up at him. He didn’t even try to avoid the offending gobbet, opting to open his maw and catch it on his tongue. “I’ll remember that…”

She blinked, taken aback by reaction. Curse him - she’d meant to anger him, sending him into a fit of anger that may give her an edge, yet his response had the opposite effect. More turned on than ever, and locked in a mating press, she scoffed. He’d immobilized her, pinning her arms under legs and robbed her of the ability to move, but this wasn’t over - yet, not by a long shot.

“Kilele,” she softly intoned. “Kilele na mwenzangu.”

His face contorted, shifting between resentment and bliss, while quaking above her. He was close, closer than he’d dare say, and he teetered on a precipice. With his stallionhood pulsing madly and flaring within her womb, his failure was all but assured. Giggling like a schoolfilly, she writhed beneath him.

As she took a breath and readied another curse, one that would surely land a finishing blow on him, he did the unthinkable. Her eyes flew open, her heart skipped a beat, and her fingers clawed at nothing when he shot forward and plunged his tongue into her muzzle. In that instant, that singular moment in time, she felt something she hadn’t experienced in ages - fear.

Having silenced her, Shaka steadied himself and jackhammered into her with reckless abandon. Curse her - curse everything about the abominable wench! The gall for her to try and finish him off and steal his triumphant thunder was appalling - nevertheless, his time was short. A line had been crossed, there was no going back, and his only course of action was to plow her into oblivion before he came.

From an outsider’s perspective, the pair could be mistaken as lovers. The raw, primal fury they possessed was beyond reproach, their kiss was deep and impassioned, and bed creaked and violently rocked under them. To say it was a heated exchange would be an understatement of astronomical proportions as they vied for dominance.

Seconds stretched on for years, minutes became eternities, and their sensual wrath knew no bounds. While they raced to the finish, neither willing to yield, their chests heaved and bodies glistened in sweat. Shaka’s balls contracted, pulling close to his groin, as Sahira’s ovaries went into overdrive.

Throwing himself back, Shaka pulled his tongue from her snout and roared. He hated himself for it, yet it was too much - far too much to bear. The idea of a worthy foe, a fruitful womb, and siring his progeny with the harpy that was Sahira consumed him and saw him through the gates of nirvana.

Sahira brayed to the heavens as rivers of thick, rich, virile seed flowed into her. The climax that overtook her was singular, so awe-inspiring that it made every other blissful moment she’d ever endured feel downright pitiful. Shaking like a leaf in a gale, it was all she could do to keep her head above water and not drown in her ecstasy.

Crashing atop her, Shaka breathed heavily. His lungs, every muscle about his frame, his throat - they all burned as a preternatural exhaustion settled upon him. There was nothing more he could do, yet he found the strength to turn his head and peek at her face. The whore was still conscious, just barely, and she peered down at him with a single, golden eye.

“Y…you look like shit,” he rasped.

When Sahira tried to laugh, genuinely amused by his childish remark, she broke into a coughing fit. Every part of her hurt, she’d likely be walking funny for the next day or two, and she’d have to take an elixir to avoid ending up carrying the knave’s foal, but she’d won - at least, in a sense. As she feebly and defiantly clenched her battered marehood around him, he snickered then weakly started to wheeze.

“Bastard,” she murmured.

Trying and failing to get up, he fell back on her. “Bitch…”

When their eyes met, a realization dawned on them. Neither was willing to concede, both being too obstinate to acknowledge defeat, though their competition had concluded - for now. Giving the faintest nod to one another, they went limp and motionless. The bout was just that, the first of many, and they wouldn’t stop until a victor had well and truly been decided…

Chapter 9

Shaka kept his eyes closed and breathing steady while he kept one ear swivelled toward his bathroom. He’d awoken several minutes prior, roused by his slumber by the faint sounds of water running and humming. Someone was in his home, and he’d bet his bottom bit on whom had paid him a visit.

There were perilously few creatures on the planet who were dumb or reckless enough to see themselves into his home unwelcomed - moreover, there weren’t many who even knew where he lived. His abode was nearly identical to any other, neither calling attention to himself or his various pursuits, and he lived just outside a sleepy little village known as Sire’s Hollow. The ponies in town knew of him and would occasionally seek him out for his services, largely because shamans were extraordinarily rare in Equestria, although they gave him plenty of space.

Slipping his legs from under the covers and over the side of his bed, he silently got to his feet. His mentor would have had the courtesy of announcing himself, nearly all of his past lovers had had their memories selectively altered to remove the whereabouts of his house, and he had no family to speak of - reducing the number of potential home intruders to one. As he crept into his bathroom and spied a familiar, striped figure, an annoyed grunt escaped him.

Sahira turned and wiped sodden dreadlocks from her face. “And I was beginning to wonder if you’d continue feigning sleep.”

“Not even doing me the courtesy of waking me with a blowjob?” he quickly shot back. “Sahira, you’ve lost your touch.”

She’d seen herself in, violating his privacy and the sanctity of his house, and had helped herself to the use of his shower. The sight of her washing herself, her body bare and lathered in soap, weighed heavily against her transgression and utter disregard for his solitude. Lingering in the doorway leading to his bedchamber, he bit back a smirk.

For all her innumerable faults, she was remarkably easy on the eyes. With a toned physique, modest bust, and taut, squeezable backside, her body wasn’t as impressive as some, lacking the exaggerated bust and curves most stallions sought in a mate, although he genuinely found her quite attractive. It was a shame that she was as insufferable as she was, because she would have made a fine lover and mother for his eventual children.

He grunted as he gazed up at her grinning face. “Do you ever take that off?”

Bringing a hand upward, she touched the ebony, skull-like covering over her visage. “The mask?”

“I don’t believe I’ve seen you without it,” he remarked.

His question, as straightforward as it was, wasn’t an attempt to distract her or buy time to determine why she’d invited herself over. He’d initially assumed that her mask was part of her look, an aesthetic choice to intimidate others or to mark herself as a shaman, yet his stance on the matter had shifted over time. Pondering on what the thing was, where she’d gotten it, and why she insisted on wearing it at all times, he stared over at her.

“That’s because I can’t remove it,” she sighed. “My former master cursed me with his dying breath to wear it for all eternity. Though I can conceal it, I -”

“Wait,” he quietly blurted while holding up a hand. “You can conceal it?”

She blinked. “Did you assume I couldn’t?”

“If you can hide it and take a more…” He paused to find the right word. “If you can take a less menacing appearance, why don’t you?”

“Because my countenance would have stallions and mares fawning over me at all hours of the morning, noon, and night,” she lamented. “I’d be far too alluring without it.”

Rolling his eyes, he snorted. “Of course you would be. I’m sure that -”

“Would you like to see for yourself?” she interrupted.

He went silent and motionless. After acquainting himself with every inch of her, and practically memorizing the pattern of her stripes, he couldn’t deny that his curiosity was curious. Waving a hand, he stepped forward and smiled.

“If you’d be so kind,” he began, “I’d love to…”

As the mask faded away, presumably becoming transparent, he trailed off. Twin bands of dark fur ran down her forehead to either side of a triangular patch over her maneline, coming just over her golden, goat-like eyes, and the very end of her muzzle was black. He shook from his stupor when she stepped out of the tub.

Stopping before him, she sensually caressed herself. “Like what you see?”

He shook his head and grimaced. “I do, but we both know that. Might I ask what has brought you to my abode this fine morning?”

She’d almost gotten him, distracting him with her admittedly charming face and alluring form, but he wasn’t going to play into her clutches so easily. Reaching out and idly fondling her bosoms, he snickered. She was on his turf, he’d foiled her plans before, and she was the one who was in danger.

“I simply wanted to give both of us a break - you know, have some rest and relaxation,” she groaned. Gingerly taking his wrist, she guided his hand down to her nethers. “Would you like to join me in the shower now or after I’ve given you that blowjob you mentioned?”

Running a finger between her lower lips, he caressed her bulging clit. “What about breakfast? I’d be happy to provide you with a rich, creamy meal, although I’d prefer something more substantial to eat.”

“Not to worry,” she murmured while bucking her hips and grinding her cunt against his hand. “Breakfast should be ready shortly, unless you’d like to help yourself to an appetizer.”

His mouth watered at the thought of feasting upon her. Though she was his nemesis, starting the day with a bit of amorous affection was far from the worst thing. Backing up and releasing her, he lifted his hand and licked his fingers clean. She was up to something, he was sure of that much, although what she had done or was doing had yet to reveal itself.

He turned and nodded to the shower. “You finish up and make yourself presentable while I go start some coffee for the two of us.”

“As you wish,” she coolly responded.

To his surprise, she stepped into the shower and continued washing herself. She appeared totally normal, she hadn’t uttered anything in her cursed tongue to ensorcel him, and he didn’t detect any foul afoot, although he wasn’t going to let his guard down. At the very least, he was going to conduct a thorough sweep of the house prior to having any fun.

Crossing through his room and into the hallway, he casually strolled through his home. As he passed his vacant guest room and study, moving in the direction of the kitchen, the smell of bacon wafted to his nostrils. A frown creased his muzzle at the distinct, savory aroma. He wasn’t, nor would he ever embrace carnivorism, excluding his love of eating pussy, and it was his hope that Sahira had cooked something that he’d actually enjoy.

“Shaka, your timing couldn’t be better,” Sahira chirped. “There’s a fruit salad in the fridge, the waffles are almost done, and I’m just about to finish up with these hash browns for you.”

He stopped in his tracks and peered at the mare shimmying a frying pan on his stove. Had she used teleportation to get to the kitchen before him? Cautiously meandering around and to his refrigerator, he took stock of the situation. She was bone dry and clad in an apron she’d purloined from his pantry, there was no water around her feet, and she’d sounded pleased with his arrival - however those observations only muddled matters further.

A tap on the shoulder made him flinch and look to the side. To his absolute bewilderment, Sahira was both cooking and standing beside him. Seeing the wench in two places at once was unnerving and anything but natural, particularly because both were acting so casually, although his confusion magnified when he noticed that neither of the mares in the kitchen had been the one he’d just spoken with.

Smiling up at him, the Sahira at his side gently pushed him away. “Excuse me.”

He obliged hesitantly and shuffled over to give her some room. “What are you up to?”

“Making a banquet fit for a king,” the cooking Sahira noted.

Bending over and pulling a pitcher of orange juice from the fridge, the duplicate cheerfully wiggled her tush. “For our king.”

The other Sahira sidled over and removed a steaming, crisp waffle from a heated iron on the countertop. “We’ve yet to figure out which of us will fuck ourselves on him.”

“That’s if he wants us to take the lead,” the second tutted. “What we do is up to him.”

“Indeed,” the first giggled. “We’re so lucky.”

“That we are,” a third voice merrily stated. Toweling herself off, a third Sahira walked into the room. “I’m confident that he’ll handle the three of us easily.”

“So big…”

“So handsome…”

“And that monstrous endowment of his…”

The trio writhed while pawing at their chests, loins, or both while waxing poetic about him. Flattered though he was, his unease grew by leaps and bounds. Strolling past two of the mares and over to his coffee machine, he retrieved a can of grounds from his cupboard.

“Allow me,” the damp Sahira hummed, having scampered up behind him. “We’d hate for you to lift a finger.”

“Unless he wanted to lift a finger…”

“Or lift one of us for that matter…”

Snickering like a group of fillies, the threesome busied themselves with making his meal. They acted in concert, asking one another to move when needed, while they set the table and plated various dishes. Leaving them to their pursuits, he retreated and watched his visitors work.

Duplication spells were no easy feat, typically requiring rare artifacts or potions which were difficult to brew, and no two were exactly the same. Some of the enchantments allowed users to share senses and thoughts, while others allowed each copy to function completely independently - in either case, Sahira had just shown her hand. Taking a glass of orange juice and helping himself to a sip, he smiled and shook his head.

“It’s freshly squeezed,” Sahira, one carrying a plate of hash browns, commented.

He kept his eyes on the other pair while he tweaked one’s nipple. The one he touched responded, inhaling sharply, while the other two didn’t bat an eye. As he readied a very particular hex, one that may give him an edge, the trio converged and placed the food on the table.

He seated himself and played it as cool as he could. “Swarm tactics?”

“What gave it away?” one of them tittered.

Easing herself into a chair next to him, another rubbed his thigh. “You’re just too much stallion for one mare.”

“Or two even,” the third glibly murmured.

Sahira came up behind him, rested her arms over his shoulders, and gave his cheek a little pec. “Don’t say we’re wrong…”

Scheming against him was wondrously amusing, although devising new, innovative ways for her to test his resolve took time, patience, and creativity. She’d assumed that inspiration would strike her while she’d recovered from having her ass demolished - alas, nothing particularly clever had come to her. Two nights prior, while she’d been lying on her stomach and attempting to get comfortable, her eyes had strayed across her room and to a trunk of special supplies.

She, like many who practiced her craft, had a stockpile of especially sought-after and exotic compounds she’d gathered. Some of the ingredients had come from the abyss, a few had required magical synthesis to produce, and there were a few that were just difficult to come by. Having gotten up and gone over to the chest, she’d retrieved something she’d hadn’t wanted to use.

While cloning herself with a sample of water she’d collected from the mirror pool wasn’t the most innovative or complicated approach, it would serve its purpose. Using the precious resource wasn’t what troubled her, and she was reasonably certain that overwhelming Shaka with numbers was a sound tactic - what troubled her was that the plot was simply boring. She prided herself being innovative, so resorting to something so pedestrian felt beneath her.

Walking around and running a hand over his upper back, she drifted to the seat at his right. “Well?”

“You are correct,” he admitted. “Some would say that one of you is too many.”

She tittered and leaned on him. “Too true, my love.”

Ganging up on him, while practical, wasn’t without flaws. Each of her copies had her memories and abilities, yet they weren’t her. From the moment her duplicates had come into the world, they’d started to diverge. Should enough time pass, it was entirely possible that the three of them would become different mares eventually.

Glancing to her doubles, she reached down and stroked his semi-flaccid length. “Think you can handle us?”

“All of us?” the duo of mares added in tandem.

He smoothly looked between them as he reclined. “Quite easily, of course.”

His hubris would be his undoing. All she or her copies had to do was speak, say a single line or simple phrase, and he’d be done for - after that, they could do whatever they wanted with and to him. If he wanted to survive with his body and dignity intact, he was going to have to change his tune and ideally treat her with the respect she deserved.

“And how might you do that?” she pressed.

“There are three of us,” another continued.

Leaning in, the third caressed his cheek. “And only one of you.”

“Like this,” he whispered.

Swiftly filling his lungs, he exhaled a torrent of thick, noxious smoke from his nostrils and open maw. Sahira and her doppelgangers threw themselves back and bellowed in unison, each shouting curses that would shackle his mind and body, yet her arrogance was her undoing. The enchantments they cast overlapped, their words mingling and canceling one another, while they breathed in the magical fog he produced.

Sahira coughed and covered her muzzle as she stumbled back. “Bastard.”

“Guilty,” he haughtily mused. Patting one of her copies on the back, he slowly stood. “It’s mostly harmless.”

As a hand gently struck her between the shoulders, she twisted her head and looked back. As she’d feared, nopony was behind her. Though she wasn’t being touched by anypony, she could feel herself being touched. In that moment, watching an ominous glow fade from his eyes, she understood what he’d done.

“Clever,” she growled. “You think that forcing us to share the experience will give you some advantage. Why not kill us?”

Leering down at him, one of her doubles coughed. “Or erase us?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he laughed. “Since you put so much effort into this, it would be a shame not to entertain you - all three of you at once.”

Sahira narrowed her eyes. Having linked senses with her copies was far from the worst thing he’d could have done - so much so that she was hesitant to believe that he hadn’t done more than that. For all she knew, he may have sown the seeds of her destruction without her fully comprehending it.

“A moment,” she grumbled. “Mares, let us confer.” Her clones walked around and to her sides, both casting doubtful looks at Shaka, while she waved them closer. “Feel anything?”

“No,” one faintly answered.

The other shook her head. “Nothing that I can tell, no.”

The trio mutely looked to one another as the corners of their lips turned upward. The solution was simple, and they needn’t discuss it at length. While they weren’t pleased with the development, aware that they’d be feeling the same things as one another, it did afford a unique opportunity. Though they loathed Shaka, serving him in unison and enduring a sensory onslaught from three unique perspectives was too good to pass up.

“I propose a wager,” Sahira announced. Stepping away from her doppelgangers, she leveled a finger at Shaka. “If we can outlast you, you’ll have to - uh…”

She wavered, uncertain of what would be at stake. The petty, vengeful side of her yearned to make him do something demeaning like walking around town wearing a collar and leash, yet her three-fold lust and the thought of licking her clit while he ravaged her clouded her judgment. Trying and failing to concoct a fitting reward for herself, she was pushed aside.

Barging past her, one of her copies drew a finger up his chin. “Dinner and drinks for us.”

“A nice dinner with top shelf drinks,” another added.

Taking and kissing the back of her hand, he dipped his head. “Very well. And if I win?”

The three of them shrugged and spoke as one. “Bragging rights.”

He clutched his immaculately sculpted abs and doubled over in mirth. “On any other day, I’d say that wasn’t good enough, but I’m feeling charitable - oh and you did make breakfast for us. Tidy up and join me in my room.”

While Sahira plodded away, Sahira wracked her collective brains on how she and her doubles could best him. She couldn’t tell what her clones were thinking, but that mattered for little. They were very much the same mare, dwelling on the same problem which had just presented itself, and though their senses may have been attuned to one another, they held an advantage.

They hastily covered the food, turned off the stove and coffee maker, and marched lockstep to his chamber. There was strength in unity, and they would use that against him. While he only had a single stallionhood to lavish with affection, he had other weaknesses that she could freely exploit.

She, the original, took the lead and marched past her copies. “I presume you two know what to do?”

“Of course,” they responded.

“Perfect,” she murmured. “Show him no quarter.”

“Like we would,” one chuckled.

Giving her an encouraging smack on the rear, the other goaded her onward. “This will be fun…”

That was certainly one way of putting it, though it may come back to haunt her. Squandering a sample from the mirror pool for something as self-serving as fooling around with herself would have been an egregious waste of the precious resource - having said that, and with the circumstances being what they were, she could freely cut loose with herself and a big-dicked stud. Walking faster, motivated by what was to come, she wandered into his room and made a beeline for his bed.

“Not even a kiss?” he pouted while she strutted by.

“One of them can handle that while you’re rutting me,” she groused. Hearing a passionate moan from behind her, she shot an angry glance over shoulder. “While he’s rutting me!”

Pulling away from him, one of her doubles drew her tongue from his muzzle. “Can you blame me?”

“No,” she huffed, “but remember the plan.”

“A plan,” he parroted in amusement. “Oh this will be a treat. Three of my least favorite mare all to myself ~ aren’t I the lucky one.”

She cast herself onto the mattress, rolled to her back, and grabbed the back of her knees. “Enough with the hollow platitudes and stalling. I’m sure there are several stallions who’d die to have a small harem for themselves.”

Crossing to the foot of the bed, he took her by the ankles and brought his stallionhood to her entrance. “Quite right, although you wouldn’t be satisfied with any of them.”

As he sank into her depths and steadily filled her, her assistants leapt into action. One of the two kissed her way up his side and up to his chest, while the other knelt behind him. Virtually every stud on the planet dreamed about having a group of mares fawning over him, and Shaka was no different. For all his strength, size, and otherworldly power, he was still beholden to his carnality and a burning desire to be worshiped.

Shaka’s face was turned while his medial ring nudged her shaft. “May I help - Mmmmn.”

Kissing somepony while he was plunging into a mare was always a welcome experience, yet he quickly got much more than just an impromptu makeout session. Feeling a hot breath against his backside, he started when what could only be a tongue glided over his balls and into the cleft of his ass. As he bottomed out and buried his shaft, it became apparent how precarious his position was.

“Something wrong?” Sahira pressed. “I presumed you’d like this.”

He broke the kiss by grabbing the double’s mane and pulling her away. “I am enjoying this,” he growled. “Are you?”

Bucking his hips, he ground his backdoor against one clone’s face. The conceited bitch likely assumed she was going to win a lavish night out at his expense handily, but she was going to learn that one of him was enough to deal with any number of her. It was by mere happenstance that he hadn’t showered the night prior, retiring after a particularly exhausting trip to the gym, and he was thankful that he wasn’t as fresh as he normally would be.

While he fell into a steady rhythm, sheathing and unsheathing his cock in her clinging marehood, an unusual conundrum presented himself. With only two hands, it would be impossible for him to properly manage his trio of playthings. Deeply kissing one mare, and virtually sitting on another, he guided the third’s legs around his waist.

Of all the quandaries he’d find himself in, he wouldn’t have predicted juggling to be as tricky as it was. Sahira was a crafty one, although she was relatively sporting. In light of how she hadn’t cast a glamour upon him, bending him to her will or transforming him in some demeaning fashion, it was unlikely that she’d pull a dirty trick on him - unlikely but not unimaginable. Muzzling her would be the safest and most prudent course of action, and he had a way to keep all three of her from speaking.

Shuffling back and freeing all but his cock-head, he tugged at her legs. “Tuph obpher.”

“Come again?” she muttered.

He rolled his eyes and momentarily broke the kiss a second time. “Turn over.”

“Can’t stand to look at my face?” she pouted, doing as she’d been instructed. “Or maybe you just want us all to keep quiet.”

“It would be a shame if we did something to you…” another purred in her ear.

The third shuffled back and pried her snout from his ass. “Better start fucking us like you mean it, stud…”

“Like this?” he rumbled as he began deep-dicking her.

Whimpering in chorus, the trio shivered and swooned. The sweetest victories were the ones that were earned, and his impending triumph would be delectable indeed. She had the upper hand in several ways, keeping him preoccupied and under threat of spellcraft, but that allowed him to focus. The element of danger looming over him, that the pendulum could swing at any moment, added a thrilling twist to what would otherwise be a somewhat standard four-way.

With his tailhole polished, cock pistoning, and balls churning, he snarled into a copy’s snout. Contrary to popular belief, wrangling more than a single mare in the bedroom was harder than it looked - thankfully, he’d had plenty of practice with such things over the years. Whether it was groupies, cougars, or spirited floozies, he’d left many a room full of incoherent, cum-drunk mares in his wake.

He thrust hard and drove the tip of his length into her womb, causing all three to mewl and tremble around or against him. It was supremely gratifying to get somepony off, to make them weak with pleasure, and it always - always pushed him closer to the edge. Any stallion could dumbly hump away until they peaked, but only a true stud ensured their lover or lovers were satisfied.

Within minutes, he reaped a climax from Sahira. The mares floundered, squealing and squirting nectar to the floor over his stallionhood. He snorted as his self-restraint weakened. Making her cum was easy, both due to his sexual prowess and because he’d gradually learned what got her off, but he knew better than to ease up and let her savor it. The respite he’d earned was transient, and he would have to make the most of it to keep what ground he’d gained.

As he sawed into her and beat against her cum-starved womb, her doppelgangers rallied and renewed their assault. His pucker was polished, lustful hands wandered over his chest, hips, and upper thighs, and small, supple breasts bore against him while a taut canal constricted around his length. The stamina he had, though impressive, could only fuel him for so long under such heavenly circumstances.

Having driven Sahira to climax another three times, he crossed the threshold. A furious roar split the air as he came and filled her - well, one of her. The treble of her wails was a symphony unlike any other, harmonized to near perfection, while he carried them to nirvana. He lumbered back and withdrew his still-gushing shaft before the trio could recuperate, not allowing himself to savor his ecstasy. This was a gauntlet, a trial, and he couldn’t afford to show mercy.

After shaking off two of the mares, he rolled the third over, sat on the foot of the bed, and reclined. “Clean me up.”

Two of the clones, the pair he hadn’t just rutted a foal into, obeyed, while the third shifted and fell off the mattress. He hadn’t gone soft, although blowing a load had done a number on him. His stallionhood twitched and oozed jizz as the duo started licking and kissing their way up its length. She was a spiteful, cruel sow, contemptible in every regard, but damned if seeing her making out with herself around his dick didn’t get his blood pumping.

“Quite the spectacle…”

The voice came from behind him and prompted him to turn. At some point or another, in the few moments he’d taken to convalesce, the third Sahira, presumably the original, had dragged herself back onto the bed. Pulled onto his back and pinned to the mattress, his view changed from the duo tongue bathing his tool to a gaped, slavering cunt bearing down on his face.

“Return the favor,” she cooed as she seated herself on him.

His face grew slick with a cocktail of his spunk and her juices while she pinned his arms under her legs. Seconds before shaking her off, an incredible weight settled upon him. Though he was unable to see what had happened, his sense of touch told him what he needed to know. The trio had mounted him, disobeying his order to take the lead, and he was brought to an impasse because of it.

It wouldn’t have taken much to overpower them with brute force, flinging them across the room so he could get loose, yet he hesitated. Beating her at her own game was the only way he could achieve true success, and he wouldn’t stoop to her level - not yet. Fixating on her clit, he planted his feet and drove his hips upward as one of the copies straddled his waist.

His one regret, were he to name one, was that he hadn’t set up a camera to capture the exchange. Films involving one stallion with two mares were popular and relatively common, but recordings of a lone stud pitting himself against three mares were scarce - add to that how Zebrican erotica was a niche product, and he was sure he could have made a killing selling a video of his current predicament. Positively swamped with pussy, making out with one, fucking another, and with a third rubbing against his abs, he ceded to his lust.

He wouldn’t say it, if only for fear that it may provoke Sahira, but he was actually quite glad with how things were shaping up. There was no risk of making a fool of himself in public, there was perilously little on the line, and managing three mares at once was electrifying. Compared to some of her past torments, this was a breath of fresh air.

Going on for what had to be nearly half an hour, basking in the sounds and sensations the trio afforded, he ultimately passed the point of no return. As he coated one’s interior with his essence, flaring against her cervix and filling her depths with his seed, she wailed in orgasmic glee. He swallowed what nectar he could, all but chugging her tangy effluence, although the sheer volume of her cream forced his hand.

Throwing her off, he coughed and cleared his airway. “Excuse - Hack - me…”

“Y…you’re excused,” one wheezed.

Panting and toppling to her side, another gave him a wobbly thumbs-up. “W…what she said…”

“Asshole,” the third griped, having fallen off the bed and out of sight.

As he caught his breath, his eyes flicked from one to another. “Any requests?”

The trio looked to one another, smirked, and nodded. They had something in store for him, and they looked elated at whatever it was. Moving slowly, each jittering and unsteady, they removed themselves from the bed. He smiled at each of them in turn, slipped his hands behind his head, and silently wondered what he was going to be subjected to.

Sahira considered herself a cold, calculating mare, although she was prone to bouts of weakness and hedonism. The missionary had been incredible, largely because she’d been rimming him and making out with him throughout it, and the double cowgirl was even better than she’d expected it would be. With two debaucherous experiments out of the way, there was a particular combination she was dying to try out.

“Doggy while I cuck myself and kiss you,” she proclaimed. “You pick who’s doing what, since we may murder each other if we have to choose.”

He openly laughed while he sat up and got to his feet. “I’m inclined to let you all butcher each other, although I’d prefer not to spend my afternoon cleaning up blood stains and disposing of bodies. You’ll be our little cuck, you can be the passionate one, and you’ll be my cum-dump ~ how’s that sound.”

“Deal,” she replied in tandem.

The three of them manically scrambled back onto the mattress and took their various positions. One went supine, placing her head directly under the crotch of another who got on all fours, while the last idly waited by the side. Partaking in three of her favorite kinks in unison was tantamount to suicide, but she didn’t give a single, solitary damn about how reckless she was being. As long as she came so hard that she couldn’t see straight, he could boast as much as he wanted to.

Walking up behind her, he ran his cock-head over her entrance as he grabbed the ass of her double kneeling at the end of the mattress. “Shall I wax poetic about how the three of you will be my broodmares?”

“If it’s not inconvenient,” she mumbled as she rolled her hips back and flagged her tail.

He kept quiet as he sank into her and locked lips with her copy at his side. For the first time in many, many years, words genuinely failed her. She was simultaneously plowed from behind, having her clit sucked, eating herself out, and tongue wrestling with him. While the experience for each of them was slightly different, the absolute influx of sensations was mind-numbing.

She’d done herself in, knowingly engaging in what may have been the most decadent endeavor of her life, and she was driven mad with rapture. One orgasm bled into another, creating a feedback loop of pure, unrefined ecstasy. She came more times than she could dare to count, yet the muscle memory she’d developed from years of self-indulgence didn’t allow her to stop.

Like a machine, she sought to appease both Shaka and herself. All concepts of the competition, her enmity for him, and her sense of self were obliterated by pleasure incarnate. On and on he went, delivering her to the gates of paradise, until oblivion claimed her. Her final thoughts as darkness overtook her were those of joy and contentment from embarking on an adventure few would ever revel in.

…

“Gah!” she gasped, shooting upright. Feeling herself up, she took stock of her surroundings and yelped when a hand glided over the small of her back. “What did -”

“Relax,” Shaka sighed as he caressed her. Lounging at her side and atop the sodden blankets, he patted the empty pillow next to him. “You’re not dead - well, unless your afterlife includes yours truly.”

She chose not to acknowledge the slight while she scanned the room. Her copies were nowhere to be seen, likely having evaporated when the ensorceled potion had run its course, and his chamber looked like a bomb had gone off. His bed listed to one side on a broken leg, his dresser was overturned, and a camera perched on a tripod sat in one corner.

Following her gaze, he motioned to the contraption. “I didn’t get all of it, and I had to fight two of you to set it up, but we’ll have something to watch later.”

“Shit,” she hissed. “You should’ve mentioned that before we started…”

He shrugged apathetically. “There’s always next time, and that may be sooner than you think. I -”

Knock knock knock

Glancing to the doorway, she pursed her lips. “Expecting company?”

“I took the liberty to order us a pizza,” he warmly stated. “Since the delivery pony is typically a stallion, would you like to do the honors?”

She swung her legs over, placed her feet on the floor, pushed herself up, and promptly collapsed. “One second…”

Her legs felt like jello, cum flowed from her marehood, and her throat was sore, yet she found the strength to stand and shamble out of his room. It was awfully considerate of him to get them food, although seeing as how it was dark outside heavily implied he’d foregone eating to rail her for hours on end. Wholly indifferent to her nude, disheveled, cum-slathered state, she reached the entryway and unlocked the door.

“I hope he paid in advance, because…” She went wide eyed and shuffled back as she turned her eyes to a figure looming on the doorstep.

Holding a pizza box in one hand and a camcorder in the other, Shaka beamed down at her. “I have an order for - let’s see here. Yes, one needy whore? One extra large, extra meaty special to fill you right up…”

What began as a snicker grew into a hearty belly laugh as she peered up at Shaka. The cheeky bastard was about to give her a taste of her own medicine, taking advantage of her weakened state by thoroughly plowing her into a coma! She peeked back as a pair of large, strong hands closed over her shoulders and held her in place.

Shaka stepped forward and pressed stallionhood between her thighs. “I hope you like sausage…”

Mirroring his twin, the second Shaka leaned in and touched his cock-head to her navel. “Because we’ve got plenty to spare…”

“You colts, always wanting my attention,” she clucked. Slipping out from between them, she clutched and gently stroked their tremendous lengths. “I guess that just leaves one question - are you going to share a hole or claim me from both ends.”

“Both,” they hummed in sync.

He had to have planned this, because their dialogue and actions were too perfect to have been improvised on the fly. There was a film to be made, she was soaking wet, and she had the perfect costars to join her. While they may have missed their chance to make an intact movie for their first round, neither of them were going to miss the opportunity to produce a riveting sequel…

Chapter 2

Sahira narrowed her eyes as she kept her head turned upward. “You can’t be serious…”

“Oh but I am,” Shaka insisted. Stepping back from her entryway, he clasped a hand to his chest and bowed. “I’ll freely confess that you are…” He paused and scrunched his snout. “You’re an irritation - yes, that captures it nicely, but that hardly means I’m not capable of respecting you as both a mare and a fellow shaman.”

Peering down at the single rose in his outstretched hand, she grimaced. Vexing - it was the only word she could think of to describe Shaka. While it was true that his good looks, adonic face, and godly stallionhood tickled her fancy, the soul attached to his endearing features was less than appealing. He was a hardheaded, womanizing lout with some understanding of the arcane arts, from what she’d gathered, and having him appear at her doorstep was the last thing she’d expected.

On one hand, having the opportunity to assert herself and put him in his place was tempting - on the other, the indignity of their last exchange was still fresh. It had only been two days since their spirited competition, and she’d thought the last she’d seen of him was his bare ass stumbling out of her hut - alas, he wasn’t done with her. Showing up dressed in a suit and with a lone flower, he apparently thought he could make amends or win her over.

“If you think this will settle things between us, you’re sorely mistaken,” she grumbled. Taking the rose from his grasp, she pinched the bridge of her snout. “Might I ask, what really brings you here wearing that?”

Rising to his full height, he peeked down at himself. “Since our initial meeting was so uncouth, I thought to show you a more civilized thought of myself.”

“And that?” she added, nodding to a folded bag resting by his feet. “Don’t tell me that’s some paltry gift to atone for your actions…”

“Fine, I won’t tell you that then,” he grunted. “I simply wished to end things peacefully between us. No tricks, no impassioned battle of wills - just a courteous final adieu.”

She held her ground and glared at him. “I’m sorry, but no. If this is the last time we see one another, you can live out the rest of your pathetic little life knowing that I’ll wrench your soul from the abyss and shackle it to a fetish.”

Courtesy be damned. Even if he’d been polite and respectful from the onset, before he’d made the poor decision to talk down to her, she wasn’t beholden to any stallion under any circumstances. She did what she wanted or who she wanted when she wanted, and there wasn’t a force on this plane or any other that could win her over with mere words or paltry offerings.

“I do think I’ll keep this though,” she continued, noticing a drop of blood on the thorny stem of the flower. “This will be quite useful…”

Either from ignorance or oversight, the stupid bastard had just given the key to his destruction. Blood magic was incomprehensibly potent, so powerful that it was viewed as taboo even among her ilk, and she would be happy to teach that lesson to Shaka. Lifting the rose to her face, she inhaled, smiled, then sighed.

“So be it,” he resignedly muttered. “It’s a shame, really…”

“What is?” she quipped. “That you…”

Listing to one side, seized by a wave of vertigo, she caught herself on her door frame. The ground heaved under her feet, her knees buckled, and she gasped for air. Clawing her way up, she held herself steady and bared her teeth at him.

Shaka leaned forward and gently brought a hand under her jaw. “Is something the matter?”

“Kifo chu-” She was silenced as he closed his hand around her muzzle.

“We can’t be having any of that,” he chuckled, “not before I give you this…”

She tried - by the abyss, she tried to resist him, to push him away and utter the words of death and ruination that would render him a corpse, but it took everything she had just to keep herself from falling to the ground. Bringing his snout to her face, mere inches from her nose, he opened his mouth. As the outline of his skeleton shone through his coat, a miasma of thick smoke billowed from his maw.

The fumes invaded her nostrils and swept down her airway, filling her lungs in an instant. He withdrew slowly, leaving the curse to invade her body, and grinned. She’d fallen for the oldest trick in the book, falling for his subterfuge with the damn flower and opening herself up to an attack, and she only had herself to blame.

Coughing up the noxious substance, she winced. “It…It’ll take -”

“Come now,” he cut her off and motioned for her to stand. “A proper mare isn’t so unruly. Straighten up and put your shoulders back for me - like that, yes. I’d like to see how you turn out.”

She moved involuntarily, her body obeying his command, while he snickered above her. Unwillingly following his orders would have been unsettling enough in and of itself, yet that was the least of her concerns. Her skin tingled and form contorted, various portions of her expanding or contracting under the malign influence of whatever hex had been cast on her, as her consciousness became detached from her mortal coil.

Positively beaming, he knelt down and picked up the bag. “Now then, since we have that little affair settled, let’s go inside so we can have a better look at you ~ Hmmm?”

“Y…yes, Daddy,” she spontaneously chirped.

The voice coming from her was barely recognizable, far too chipper and in too high of a tone, and she’d had no control over it whatsoever - furthermore, to add insult to injury, she wheeled around and skipped back into her hut. The indignity of being robbed of her autonomy was maddening, although it was eclipsed in its entirety when she meandered before her vanity and saw herself. While she’d been privy to many deplorable things in her time, namely those she’d enacted on others, the sight before her left her at a loss for words.

She was a parody of her normal self, some whorish, wholly slatternly mare that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a street corner or as an exotic dancer. Her bosom had more than quintupled in size, her waist was whipcord thin, and her ordinarily taut, toned tush was so massive that she could see it peeking out from behind herself - as if those weren’t egregious enough, and to complete her new look, her lips were were comically large. Shifting and turning to face Shaka, she tittered excitedly.

“Fitting, no?” he inquired. “I could have gone a bit less heavy-handed with the tits, but -”

“You don’t like them?” she interrupted while pawing at her mountainous udders. “I…I’m sorry, Daddy. I…is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

Her jaw metaphorically hit the floor. What was she saying? What in all the hells was she doing?! It was like a switch had been flipped, turning her into some submissive harlot - no, it was worse than that. Twisting and peering back at her reflection, gazing at her bountiful backside, thick thighs, and pillowy lips, she had a revelation.

“It’s fine,” Shaka laughed. “The exaggerated features are actually quite fitting for you. Here - take these and make yourself presentable for our little date.”

She took the proffered bag and opened it. “Date?”

“Just so,” he affirmed while strolling to and seating himself on the foot of her bed. “After spending no small amount of time researching and preparing that enchantment you’re enjoying, I’m going to show you off. No sense in keeping all this to myself ~ right?”

Shaking her head, she bounced in place. “Of course not, Daddy! I’ll be super-duper fast ~ mkay?”

“Take your time,” he noted.

Reclining and propping himself on one arm, he watched her from across the room. Though he wasn’t one to sing his own praises, the notion of transforming her into a busty, bubbly, brain-dead bimbo was a stroke of pure genius. As she bent over and stepped into one piece of her attire, his eyes settled on her fat, exquisitely fuckable ass.

Frankly, he had no particular fondness for what he’d made of her - that being said, knowing she was a prisoner in her own mind outweighed his preferences for body types. For all intents and purposes, the sharp-tongued and ill-humored mare that was Sahira was gone - in her place was a compliant doll that would gleefully do anything and everything he said. He sat patiently, amused by her struggling to wriggle into the outfit he’d bought for her, until she finished and began with her makeup.

The charm upon her was shockingly complex - so much so that he’d had to genuinely test his skill with crafting it. Her look was more than skin deep, coming with a personality to match, and he’d toiled long and hard to put it all together. Shaken from his thoughts and the memories of two failed test subjects he’d volunteered for his pet project, he blinked when she turned and blew him a kiss.

“How’s it look, Daddy?” purred while fondling her immense rack.

Getting up, he looked her over from top to bottom. The past few days, ever since he’d trudged home, had been a trial. Her hex had taken more time than he would have liked to create, and her ensemble hadn’t come cheap. Her ensemble, consisting of heels, fishnet leggings, a micro skirt, and a tube top that was several sizes too small, along with her makeup, was worth every bit.

With her breasts spilling out of her top, her ass all but uncovered by her skirt, and her lips painted a vibrant turquoise that matched her outfit, she could and would turn heads anywhere he brought her. She said nothing, simply smiling expectantly at him, yet he’d wager everything he had that she was fuming on the inside - luckily for him, and much to her impotent dismay, he wouldn’t have to deal with any chiding remarks or curses from her. Until he said otherwise, or when the enchantment eventually deteriorated, he could do as he pleased with her.

Crossing to her, he extended a hand. “You look phenomenal, darling.”

“T…thank you, Daddy,” she whispered, blushing and grinding her thighs together. “And we’re going on a date - like a real date?!”

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed. Trotting to the exit, he wrapped an arm over her shoulders. “Close your eyes for me, sweetheart.”

He slipped a hand into his pocket and closed his fingers around an amulet. For as powerful as he was, there were limits to what his magic could do - thankfully, he had long since compensated for his shortcomings. Holding the talisman in his fist, he closed his eyes and dwelled their destination.

The trip was instantaneous, lasting a fraction of a second, and he could tell they’d arrived exactly where he’d intended. Hard concrete rested under his feet, the sound of passers by and banter crept to his ears, and a warm breeze washed over his hide. Lifting a hand to shield his eyes, he gazed out upon a sprawling mall.

“Daddy!” Sahira bleated while tugging on his arm and pointing to the enormous complex. “Daddy, are we gonna go shopping? Please - please tell me we’re going to go shopping!”

Her elation was infectious, regardless of its somewhat disingenuous nature, and it brought a smile to his muzzle. “That we are, but you must behave yourself ~ understood?”

Nodding emphatically, she pressed herself to his side. “I’ll be right here, Daddy, pinkie promise!”

“Good filly,” he rumbled.

Running a hand down her back, he clutched her ass and started to walk. He’d meant what he’d said about showing her off, and there was no better place to do it than the Canterlot Plaza. Given her appearance, looking like a prostitute who’d modified her body to the extreme, and that zebras were a rarity in Equestria, parading her in front of a bunch of ponies was the only reasonable thing to do with her.

They hadn’t made it ten steps, still having several dozen yards to go before reaching the entrance, before making a spectacle of themselves. A handful of families covered their childrens’ eyes or altered course to give them a wide berth, mares sneered in envy or disgust, and every stallion in sight openly gawked at them. While he largely ignored the attention, only acknowledging the few that were bold enough to look him in the eyes, it was just what he’d been hoping for.

As they passed into the structure, she scampered away and to a kiosk. “What happened to behaving yourself?”

She came to a halt before the stand, brimming with excitement, and paid him little mind. “Where are we gonna go first, Daddy? It looks like they’ve got everything!”

He came up beside her and quirked a brow. For as dumb as she’d become, her functional brain power reduced exponentially, he had to give credit where credit was due. She’d found a map display and was currently looking over the layout of shops that the mall had to offer. Giving her an encouraging pat on the head, stunned that she’d retained as much common sense as she did, he glanced over the litany of stores.

“Oh oh!” she exclaimed as she pointed at a location on the far side of the plaza. “Can we go there?”

Squinting at the store, he cocked his head. “Carousel Boutique?”

“They sell all sorts of stuff!” she explained. Running a hand down his side and to his hip, she set her heavily-lidded eyes on his face. “And they sell sexy stuff, Daddy…”

The caress, her provocative expression, and the lechery dripping from her words were astonishing, though not as bewildering as her clarity of thought. She knew what she wanted, presumably something erotic, and she was doing her best to seduce him into buying it for her. Considering he wasn’t an unreasonable stallion, and that he had told her they were going shopping, he saw no harm in obliging her.

Waving an arm, he nodded. “By all means, lead the way.”

Traipsing ahead of him, with her heels clicking on the polished flooring, she took an unhurried pace. The way she moved was mesmerizing and all but hypnotic, her ample bust swaying and rear wobbling obscenely, and he could see why stallions were enamored with such mares. Something about having a bombastic, garish, and sensual idiot just didn’t appeal to him, although the novelty of it, paired with whom his fat-titted bimbo was, pleased him immeasurably.

Between the crowd that formed around her, the fact that she got distracted every ten seconds, and her slow speed, following her was easy enough. She’d flit from one shop to the next, stopping to browse wares through windows, while mindlessly babbling on about this or that. The only drawback, as he was quick to discover, was that not everypony was content to spectate.

Nearly running into a group of stallions, she stopped in her tracks. “Hello!”

“Hey there, cutie,” one of the ponies mused. “You new in town?”

“Manehattan?” she inquired while tapping a finger to her chin. “No, I’ve been here before.”

The small gang of teenage stallions laughed, though only the one spoke. “This is Canterlot, babe.”

“That explains the name!” she snickered.

“It sure does,” the young stud, ostensibly their leader, softly replied. Brushing a dreadlock from her face, he grinned. “Don’t tell me you’re here all by yourself?”

Shaka’s lips twisted in a snark and he knit his brow. There was no reason for him to be offended by the teens hitting on her, yet he was incensed. Sahira was his plaything, whether she was moronic and drawing lustful stares or not, and he wasn’t about to let some would-be playcolt interfere with her.

“She’s not,” he rumbled, coming up and looming behind her. “Is there a problem, darling?”

Throwing her head from side to side, she peeked up and over her shoulder at him. “No, Daddy, these nice stallions were just saying hi!”

He nodded, though his eyes didn’t stray from the unnamed stallion’s face. “In that case, good morning…”

A reasonable stallion would have ended things there, carrying on with his date while putting the encounter behind himself, although there was a point to be made. Sliding a hand down from Sahira’s collar and under her top, he openly fondled her breast. Actions spoke louder than words, and brazenly groping her was a superb way for him to assert his authority over her.

“Daddy, stop,” she whined, writhing and pressing her back to his chest. “You know how much I like it when you - Gah!”

“Sssssssh,” he hissed. “Daddy’s having fun right now.”

Adjusting his arm, he smoothly pulled her top down while twisting her nipple. Imbecilic and servile though she was, her reaction was far from feigned - he’d made sure of that. In addition to draining her intellect, the enchantment amplified her sense of touch and assuring that she was somewhat entertained throughout their excursion.

Sahira was going to kill him, drag his soul back from the depths, then repeat the process over and over until she’d grown so tired of murdering him that it became a chore. Being flaunted about would have easily been enough to sign Shaka death warrant, ensuring a slow, painful demise for him, but the pleasure that tormented her had guaranteed that his suffering would be unimaginable. As a bead of nectar crept down her inner thigh, her marehood seized upon itself.

Physically speaking, she felt absolutely incredible. Just having her teat squeezed had pushed her to the brink of a climax, and she shuddered to think how amazing it would be if or when Shaka took things further than that. He had her on the ropes, stripping her of her abilities and her willpower to resist him, though it’s what may do with her that truly put her on edge.

Despite herself, she rocked back and ground her ass against his upper thighs. “Daddy…”

It was by the grace of some higher power that he stopped, pulling his hand away from her chest but leaving her bosoms to heave in the open air. A part of her breathed a sigh of relief, being grateful that her trial was over, but she was keenly aware that the respite was fleeting. It wouldn’t be long until he continued his little game, and likely in some unbearable way, and she would have to endure it.

“You colts run along now,” Shaka instructed. “My marefriend and I have more important things to do.”

“Marefriend?” she quietly parroted.

Smiling faintly, he pulled her top over her breasts and restored what little modesty she had left. “Need I repeat myself?”

She was speechless - truly speechless. Her first assumption was that he was putting up an act, pretending they were an item in front of the little gang that had had neatly put themselves on her ever-expanding list of ponies to slaughter some day, yet he’d leapt to her defense and arguably spared her from what was in all likelihood an indecent gang-bang. Tentatively shaking her head, she squeezed his hand as he laced his fingers with hers.

“Come along now, dear,” he tutted, guiding her onward. “There was something you wanted to show me ~ remember?”

“Oh right!” she squealed, her dense and depraved alter ego forgetting about the teens as quickly as they’d appeared.

The depths of the abyss, communing with forces that could tear her to pieces with a thought, all the follies of her youth - none could compare to the agony of being Shaka’s thrall. No matter what she did, how hard she raged or demanded her body heed her, she could do nothing to keep herself from prancing along and smiling like a buffoon. The one small, infinitesimal silver lining to her plight was that she was surrounded by strangers who hadn’t the slightest idea of who she was or where she hailed from.

She bounded by a storefront, slammed a foot against the floor, and pinwheeled her arms to prevent herself from falling. Something had subconsciously caught her eye, though she couldn’t say what it was or why it was so important that she’d stopped. As she turned and ogled at the the gaudiest, most unbecoming pair of shoes she’d ever laid eyes on, a pair of stilettos with heels that would have somepony walking on their tiptoes, her outrage grew.

The most annoying thing about her state, other than her complete absence of control, was the intrusive thoughts that refused to give her any peace. Implanted or otherwise, the happy-go-lucky, lascivious which had taken the wheel and was controlling her actions wouldn’t shut the fuck up. Every little notion that flitted through her head revolved around looking sexy, pleasing Shaka, or some combination of the two, and she couldn’t stand it.

It would be a small mercy for her to lose her footing and hit her head, preferably on something hard and sharp enough to give her a concussion, so she could be done with this affair. It wasn’t that she wanted to expire as some nameless hussy in a mall surrounded by ponies, but that would be a better fate than bouncing around while having most of her body mass relegated to her behind and bosoms! If she was being honest, and she had no reason not to be, she was disappointed that Shaka hadn’t pushed the hex’s boundaries so far her udders starved her brain of enough blood to live.

“Daddy, can I have those?” she cried.

Glancing at the shoes, he shrugged. “I don’t know can you?”

Bastard - worthless piece of dung! How dare he condescend and make jokes at her expense! She’d been wrong, death would be a kindness for him. Damned if she could fathom what she would do to him, a punishment befitting his arrogance, but she swore on everything she had or ever would hold dear that he would rue the day he crossed her.

“I suppose you could,” he whispered while opening his wallet and retrieving a fistful of bits, “but only if you do me one tiny favor.”

Clasping her hands together in supplication, she smashed her tits against his abdomen. “Anything, Daddy!”

“Along with those stilettos, I want you to procure the most revealing, trampiest lingerie they have available,” he stated. Taking her by the shoulders, he turned her toward the store’s entrance. “Oh and be sure to wear everything out for me. Everypony deserves to see my sexy little marefriend looking her best.”

Contempt, wrath, hated, and pure rage coalesced into vitriol that pushed the boundaries of sanity, yet she took the bits and sashayed into the outlet with a smile on her muzzle. It wasn’t until she was inside and heading towards the pair of heels she’d spotted, virtually frothing at the mouth with impotent indignation, that she became aware of her surroundings. The shop she was in only sold shoes and their related accessories, meaning the latter part of Shaka’s order couldn’t be fulfilled - or so she thought.

Much to her horror, after procuring a pair of the stilettos in her size, she began to strip. With pieces of her attire drifting to the floor around her feet, completely uncaring for the employees and customers marveling at her, her body was laid bare. Great - fucking fantastic. If anypony had any question of her vulgarity, that was erased when she flung her head back, felt herself up, and shivered as the cool air played over the hairless flesh of her nipples and drooling marehood.

“They didn’t have anything in my size,” she giggled while strutting out to greet him.

Having seated himself on a bench to wait for her, Shaka smirked. “Silly filly, what were you thinking? I swear, it’s like that adorable little head of yours is completely empty!”

His jolly demeanor and carefree tone lie in sharp contrast to the cruel menace in his eyes. He may not have planned for this specifically, but he was relishing every perverted second of it. The faintest sliver of her could appreciate how twisted he was, mostly because she would have done similar things herself, but it was surpassed by her bloodthirst and loathing.

Shaka folded his arms over his chest and snorted. “While I certainly don’t mind seeing you like this, I’m afraid that we’ll have to return home…”

With a cold pit forming in her stomach, she pitifully stuck out her lower lip. “B…but why? Why do -”

“Ah ah - none of that,” he groused. “You’ve disappointed me, Sahira, and I fear you’ll have to earn something to wear now…”

She peered down at his crotch as he uncrossed his legs. As she eyed the bulge of his stallionhood, her marehood winked in anticipation. He’d made himself clear enough, expressing his displeasure with her flagrant and unasked for nudity, and she - rather the sleazy version of herself that controlled her actions, knew just what to do to atone for upsetting him.

Falling to her knees, she snuffled between his legs and reached for his groin. It was at that moment, unbuttoning his pants and pulling at his fly, that she lost the will to fight - not permanently, but for as long as his curse would last. She couldn’t speak her mind, her movements were not her own, and there was nothing she could do - with that in mind, and understanding what was about to happen, she figuratively waved the white flag.

Fuck it - if she was going to blow him and ultimately get railed out, quite possibly in front of an audience, she may as well savor it was best she could. While she pulled his hardening endowment free and wrapped her lips around its tip, he ran his fingers through her mane. She would never say it, and she despised the mere thought of it, but he really - really had a wonderful package.

The shape of his length, having the slightest upward curve, and its remarkable girth were simply divine. Having made out with his cock-head for only a moment, just long enough to properly introduce herself to his dick for a second time, she inched forward and entombed most of his shaft between her breasts. She’d always wondered what it was like to give somepony a tit-job, and experiencing it was a bit of a mixed bag.

With her senses heightened, blowing him was far more enjoyable than it should have been. Using her upper arms to clamp her bosoms around him, she bobbed her head and nursed on the first few inches of his tool. She’d get her vengeance eventually, if he didn’t end up killing her when they were through, but that would have to wait.

Sahira’s gargantuan tits and soft, pouting lips were so heavenly that Shaka made a mental note to experiment with her bimbofied-self more extensively in the future. He’d had his reservations about how things were going to play out in the mall, initially intending to humiliate her and potentially let some random stallions have their way with her, but he was pleasantly surprised that things had turned out the way they had. He was getting a blowjob while Sahira was probably dying of embarrassment or having a conniption fit inside her head - as far as he was concerned, it was a win/win.

“Allow me,” he breathed.

Lowering his hands, he toyed with her nipples and earned himself a choked whimper from her. Maybe he’d been wrong, perhaps he hadn’t gone far enough with her disgracing her. With things going as swimmingly as they were, visiting a tattoo parlor for some piercings or ink could be a fine option - better yet, both. Though the hex wasn’t permanent by any means, giving her a lasting reminder of the way was a splendid idea.

As he pondered on other ways to demean her, his libido rapidly waxed in strength. Leading her around by a collar, placing her in a bathroom stall to serve anypony and everypony who wanted some relief, transforming her in ways that were even more degenerate and obscene - she was a lump of clay, formless and filled with possibilities, and he was the sculptor who would make her into a masterpiece of sin. Turning his eyes from her, he smiled all the broader.

Their little performance hadn’t gone unnoticed. Multiple ponies, a few changelings, and a lone griffon had gathered around to bear witness to the shameless display. It wasn’t the first time he’d engaged in an exhibitionistic soirée, and he could guarantee it wouldn’t be the last, but this time was special - this time he was fooling around with an amorous adversary. As he looked into her eyes and imagined the animosity lurking just beneath her skin, his spirits soared.

The vividly colored lipstick smeared along his shaft sharply contrasted his obsidian flesh, yet his focus lay elsewhere. Her eyes were bewitching, and if they truly were windows to the soul, he’d love to learn how twisted she was on the inside. Gazing up, locked on his face, her goat-like pupils contracted into thin, horizontal slits.

Sahira, for all her lamentable and exasperating shortcomings, was remarkably skilled when it came to pleasing him. How she swayed her torso forward and back, working his stallionhood with her bust while sucking and tonguing its tip, left little to be desired - little, but not nothing. Withdrawing with a wet pop, she cleared her muzzle and licked her lips clean.

“That eager, are we?” he gently inquired.

She nodded and got to her feet. “Y…yes, Daddy…”

He’d anticipated her taking advantage of his laissez-faire approach to her debasement, quite possibly by mounting and fucking herself on him, although that wasn’t quite the case. Coolly getting up, she sauntered to a nearby wall, bent over, and wiggled her ass at him. How delightful - instead of seizing the initiative and having some control over the situation, she was practically begging him to rut her into a stupor.

Standing, he marched over to her and rubbed her tush. “It can’t be helped. Be a dear and let all these fine ponies know how much you love your Daddy.”

“I…I will,” she stammered as she snaked a hand down her abdomen to spread herself open for him. “P…please fuck me, Daddy.”

Hearing her ask him to rail her was nothing short of exhilarating. “How can I say no to that?”

Clutching the base of his length, he guided the tip of his shaft to her entrance, steadied himself, and plunged into her depths. She shuddered and gave a deep, guttural groan as she winked around him. He languidly drove his hips forward until his balls came to rest against her engorged clit, then gave her ass a sound, hard smack.

She immediately came, her shrill wail reverberating off the floor and through the cavernous causeway all around them, while torrents of nectar gushed from her spasming cunt. He would have taken his time and forced her to literally beg him, had he known she was as close as she was to her limit, although he could always save such a humbling act for next time. Taking a firm hold of her hips, he set to plowing her.

Each thrust was delivered masterfully, smashing his cock-head against her womb while pulverizing her g-spot with his thick medial ring, and she made it abundantly clear that she, at least in part, loved every second of it. She body in reverse to meet each plunge with unbridled vehemence while her a symphony of her wails pierced the air. Her rapturous serenade was swiftly joined by hushed murmurs and envious or disgusted remarks by the spectators surrounding them, prompting him to gradually pick up his pace.

He held no particular fondness for theatrics, though he couldn’t pass on the opportunity to show off just a touch. Zebras were naturally larger and more aggressive than their pony cousins - additionally, there were several mares in attendance. His kind had a well-earned reputation as unparalleled lovers, to the point where crossing the interspecies line had become a risque taboo, and he was going to prove that the tales of striped studs were very much true.

Bending at the waist, he took Sahira’s wrists in his hands and pulled her arms back. Her face impacted against the wall, slickening it with saliva and her makeup, while her grunting and mewling grew louder and louder. With only one way to find out how long she could withstand his carnal onslaught, or if she would withstand it at all before she broke, he unleashed himself upon her.

Pushed beyond the threshold of a second climax, Sahira grappled with a singular question ~ why did this feel so fucking good. Her antipathy was pushed back and slowly consumed by a never-ending tsunami of bliss. Try as she might, there was no stopping the ecstasy that threatened to crush her outright.

Her third climax hit faster and markedly harder than the second, and the fourth was no less brutal. Bit by bit, layer by layer, her defenses and indignation were stripped away from her. He was pulling her apart, systematically dismantling her with pleasure, and the mass of onlookers could all see her ruination.

She lost track of how many times she’d cum after her sixth or seventh orgasm - truthfully, she couldn’t tell. As her eyes rolled wildly, jumbled, incomprehensible words spilled from her maw. What she said or asked of him was a blur, an unintelligible mixture of pleas and promises, and she considered herself lucky that it was lost on her.

The moment he released her, her legs folded and she collapsed to the ground. Ropes of hot foal-battered spattered over her rump, back, and up to her face while Shaka growled and painted her with his seed. She’d done it, she’d managed to stave off oblivion with her wits partially intact, though the toll had been heavy.

She could barely move, her limbs felt like they weighed a thousand pounds, and each breath she took was a labor. Inglorious though it was, and having made a fool of herself, her torture was at an end. Weakly smiling up at him, she braced one arm and laughed.

“T…thanks, Daddy,” she croaked.

Of fucking course she’d thank him for such miserable treatment. She had to look awful, veritably glazed with thick jizz and buck naked with no fewer than three dozen bystanders looking on in awe, yet the victory of denying him was sweet. As he stepped back, turned his head, and gestured at him with an open hand, her mouth went dry.

“She’s all yours,” he flippantly remarked, “just don’t be too rough with her. The poor thing can’t even stand at this point.”

Most of the crowd dispersed, unwilling to do more than observe, though a small number of stallions, pony or otherwise, stepped closer. Like a well-trained and lust-stricken hooker, she rolled to her back, took one knee in each hand, and spread her legs for them. She’d celebrated too early; her misery wasn’t over - it had only just begun.

Retaking his seat on the bench, Shaka apathetically stroked himself while Sahira was ravaged. A duo of ponies, possibly brothers, opened with spit-roasting her, but a queue was slowly forming. It would be impossible for her to enjoy her suitors more than him, what with their inferior endowments and the incompetent way they humped away at her, and he was indebted to them for that. He would conquer her in one way or another, though it may take some time - time with which he could concoct ways to break her in body, mind, and spirit. Seeing her glance in his direction, he blew her a kiss and dreamed of what their next date would entail…

Chapter 3

With light playing over his face, rousing him from his slumber, Shaka yawned. The breeze coming through his window, along with the warming rays of sunshine, was a welcoming start to the day. As he sat up and stretched his arms over his head, a pleased smile crept across his snout.

He’d toyed with Sahira for the better part of a week, bringing her home and toying with her endlessly since he’d improved her, and he’d grown quite fond of having her around. When she wasn’t serving him in a fleshly sense, enthusiastically sucking him off or presenting herself like a needy bitch in heat, she was making herself useful in more conventional ways. Simply put, due in no small part to her desire to please him, his home was spotless.

Turning and peeking to one side, he frowned. He should have known she wasn’t in bed with him, considering he hadn’t awoken with her plastered against him, although that wasn’t all that shocking. His tutelage had encompassed more than his carnal needs, including how a proper mare is expected to make breakfast for her stallion and tend to the home when she wasn’t submitting herself for erotic affairs, so she was likely in the kitchen.

“Darling, I…” he trailed off as the words passed his lips.

His voice, normally resonant and sonorous, was a pale shadow of its former self. Coughing and clearing his throat, he shook his head. For an instant, it had almost sounded like a complete stranger had spoken. While he brushed off the preposterous notion that he was somepony other than himself, assuming he just needed a drink of water, something peculiar caught his eye.

Everything around him, the chamber he slept in virtually every night, appeared odd. While nothing discernable was out of place, with his possessions and furniture being exactly where they should be, his perspective seemed different - like things were larger than they should have been. Puzzled, he peered down at himself.

A thin sheet lay draped over him, concealing him from the waist down, yet he could instantaneously tell that something was amiss. His feet, usually reaching down to the very foot of his bed, only came to the center of the mattress - all the more troubling was the rest of him. As he cast his blanket aside, his brow knit.

He didn’t say a word, keeping his lips pursed while he inspected himself. The sight which greeted him was completely bizarre. Though he felt fine in every appreciable way, his figure had changed dramatically. His long, powerful limbs, all the muscle he’d amassed from years of hard work, and a substantial amount of his body mass were all gone.

With a soft grunt, he wrinkled his nose. One of two things was happening, and he wasn’t particularly concerned about either; if this wasn’t some figment of his imagination, being a dream or the remnants of one lingering in his waking mind, he wasn’t nearly as imposing as he should have been. Most stallions would have been wildly disturbed by such a happening, being dismayed for being inexplicably robbed of their strength and stature, but such a development, real or otherwise, was a mere inconvenience for him.

Turning his attention down to his loins, he guffawed. “At least you’re fine…”

In spite of his squeaky voice, frail frame, and diminished height, his stallionhood was completely unaltered - well, he was fairly certain it was unaltered. Wildly entertained and grinning like a fool, he reached down and clutched his semi-flaccid length. Irrespective of what was going on, being unable to close his hand around his shaft was so amusing that he couldn’t have cared less about the strange circumstances.

He twisted his torso, eager to get a better look at himself, and peered at a standing mirror sat against one wall. No sooner did he see his reflection than his suspicions were confirmed. Shaka, the hulking colossus that was feared and renowned, had become a scrawny, underdeveloped colt.

Immediately recognizing himself, but it wasn’t a version of himself he’d seen in ages. In his youth, back before he’d developed the ambitions that would lead him into adulthood, he’d been a sad little creature. Frail and a fraction of his normal, intimidating size, he openly laughed.

“Right…right…” he relented after composing himself.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, held it a moment, then slowly exhaled. Life had taught him many valuable lessons, with one of, if not the chief amongst them being to never get ahead of himself. His senses were intact, his mind was as clear as it had ever been, and there weren’t any meaningful problems he was aware of, barring his regressed age, though those presented an issue all their own.

Assuming he wasn’t dreaming, his first thought was that Sahira was at fault - then again, that didn’t make any sense whatsoever. The conniving mare was still under his thrall, when last he’d checked, and it was dubious at best to consider she wouldn’t restrain him in some way. He didn’t know her all that well, but he highly - highly doubted that his nemesis was the type to dole out light punishments.

“Trying to figure it out ~ eh?”

The familiar voice, coming from his doorway, wasn’t enough to make him open his eyes. “Trying, yes. Was there something you needed, Sahira?”

“Not at all,” she coolly replied. “I hope you don’t mind, but I helped myself to some tea.”

He shook his head and continued contemplating. “Not in the slightest. I’m guessing you found some way to liberate yourself last night?”

“This morning,” she corrected. “With nothing but time to spare within the confines of my own head, I was able to reverse engineer your hex, undo it, and slip from my shackles.”

Cracking an eye, he peeked over at her. “I presume you were only partially successful…”

“Oh no, not at all,” she tutted. Stepping in and setting her mug on his dresser, she groped her chest and tilted her head back. “I must confess that there’s a certain charm to having curves, although the lips had to go.”

“Regrettable,” he murmured, sneering at the markedly high pitch of his otherwise deep tone. “And I see you saw fit to borrow one of my t-shirts and…” he paused while squinting over at her groin. “Are those my boxers?”

She grinned and hooked a thumb over the waistband of her purloined underwear. “I did, yes. After wearing nothing but thongs and revealing attire for so long, I was - excuse me, am feeling a bit more modest.”

With a small snort, he clamped his eyes shut. “I for one would rather appreciate the labors of my work, but it’s your choice…”

From what he could see of her, her body being largely concealed by the comparatively oversized shirt and billowing boxers, she still had the body of a buxom bimbo. He genuinely wasn’t bothered by her making herself comfortable in his abode, nor was he troubled by her borrowing something of his to wear, yet her presence was unsettling. As things stood, she could likely overpower him physically; metaphysically, she had no advantage over him.

“Figured it out yet?” she giggled.

Scowling and knowing that pondering with her in the room would be a fool’s errand, he sighed and gave her his full attention. “If given enough time, I’m sure I could.”

“But you haven’t ~ have you?” she smugly pressed.

He reclined, laced his hands behind his head, and flexed his groin. “I have not, no, although I couldn’t help but notice that you were keen on keeping part of me in all its usual glory.”

While she slowly approached him, her eyes settled on his steadily rising stallionhood. “Most of its glory. You’re not packing quite as much as you used to, although it’s plenty for a mare of my tastes.”

“Well then, unless you’d like to start talking, I can think of another use for that muzzle of yours,” he mused.

Much to his shock, she didn’t object, give a pithy retort, or chide him for his glib request - no, she removed her shirt and flung it aside. “You’re right. This is your house, I’m your guest, and you’ve been gracious enough to accommodate me for several days, so willingly repaying you for your kindness is the least I can do. Should I put on a show or would you rather I choke myself on your monstrous colthood?”

Rolling his eyes, he shrugged. “A show would be a pleasant start. With this small heart of mine, it may take me a moment to become fully erect.”

“Completely understandable,” she breathed. Fully facing him, she bent over and slipped the underwear down her legs. “You’ll have to forgive my appearance. Seeing as how I’ll be looking after a colt, it felt appropriate to make myself a bit more maternal.”

Maternal - yes, she’d most certainly done that. To accompany her heaving breasts, foal-bearing hips, and doughy backside, one she showed off by turning around to display herself, she’d developed a not insignificant amount of pudge. While she wasn’t fat by any means, the added padding on her belly and thighs made it easy to mistake her for a middle aged mother.

“Excuse me for being so rude, but I do have a question ~ is there a purpose behind all this?” he inquired.

She reclined against his dresser, spread her legs, and stroked the engorged, hairless mound of flesh between her thighs. “Like I said, I wished to show you a bit of gratitude in a way that felt fitting for a stallion of your nature. Out of curiosity, did you ever fantasize about procuring a busty, older mare for yourself?”

“When I was younger, yes,” he hummed. “I may be mistaken, but I believe its a common dream of most colts.”

“Good,” she cooed. Strutting to the foot of the bed, she rested a knee on the mattress and fell forward onto all fours. “Now just relax and let mommy take care of you, sweetie.”

The view of her crawling up to him, dragging her massive udders over his feet and lower legs, was a welcome one. Mares had various uses, yet their most crucial one was serving stallions. While Sahira was vastly more capable than most, a near equal to himself in shamanistic arts, it pleased him that she’d seen the error of her ways and finally accepted her place in the grand scheme of things.

Sandwiching his shaft in the valley of her bosoms, she faltered. “A tit-job first?”

He dismissively waved a hand. “If it pleases you or if you’d like to chat. By chance, and at the risk of sullying the mood, was there a particular reason for your change of heart?”

“Oh there’s been no change of heart,” she tittered while stroking him with her breasts. “This is nothing more than an appetizer for what’s to come.”

There was no animosity in what she said or how she said it, although he got the nagging sense that she wasn’t being fully forthcoming. What was she scheming? Surely, after what he’d put her through, she wasn’t willing to capitulate ~ it couldn’t be that easy, right? Suppressing a thrilled shiver, he was given the first hint of what she’d done.

“Heightened sense of touch?” he thought aloud.

“Amongst other things,” she softly responded. Coaxing a bead of pre-cum from his stallionhood, she dipped her head and kissed the tip of his length. “Anything for my precious little colt.”

He fidgeted while staving off the temptation to buck his hips. “Could it be that you’re projecting a bit, and that you have some penchant for robbing foals of their innocence?”

Dragging her tongue over his cock-head, she smiled. “Don’t be mistaken, this isn’t a habit of mine - be that as it may, I do enjoy such indulgences from time to time…”

She’s spoken truthfully and openly with him. Her liberation from his thrall had only been enacted several hours prior, there was a fresh tea steaming within his kitchen, and undoing the physical elements of her metamorphosis would require access to ingredients she didn’t have on hand, although she had omitted certain information that would eventually make itself known. Peering past his abdomen and deliciously flat chest, she took him into her maw.

Every element of him was delicious. His scent, typically so strong as to be overpowering, was muted and almost floral, while the taste of his unwashed shaft, tainted with the flavor of her marehood from the night prior, had grown sweeter. He’d become a delicious dessert, a tender morsel to be consumed, and was going to savor him until the very last bite.

Forcing her head downward, after filling her lungs, she throated him. She’d only shrunk his endowment by the smallest of degrees, making him nominally easier to fellate while ensuring she’d get plenty of stimulation when, not if, he rutted her. While she bobbed her head and closed her eyes, sensing a small tremor in his hips, she tweaked her nipples.

Having regained control of herself, and been rid of the cock-addled bimbo that had been dictating her actions, she was able to revel in the novelty of her form. She was fully satisfied with herself in every way, loving her litheness and petite figure, but could see the appeal of being curvaceous. The heft of her breasts, the way various portions of her jiggled as she walked, and the ability to command stallion’s attention without trying were charming, even if they weren’t generally things she cared about.

Pulling back, she ran her tongue over her lips and reared back onto her knees. “I have to thank you, Shaka. Without your intervention, I wouldn’t have realized how fun this can be.”

“Think nothing of it, my dear,” he chuckled. “For what it’s worth, I’m positively delighted that you didn’t run off with your tail tucked between your legs.”

“Or knifed you in your sleep,” she added with a wink and a smile. “Humor me, Shaka, what sinful things would - will you do with me…”

He tilted his head back as he thoughtfully rubbed his chin. “As we are currently, there’s no end to what we could do - granted, I’m sure the public wouldn’t be too amused with an older mare taking advantage of a colt, and you’d be risking incarceration for breaking multiple laws, but the perils involved would add a certain je ne sais quoi of doing anything in a less private setting.”

Backing up slightly, she spread his legs and lowered her face to his nethers. “Perhaps we could go to a park and you could show some colts and fillies how a real stallion treats his mare.”

“That would be a phenomenal start,” he haughtily remarked. “And once I was finished with you, filling you with my seed, I could let them take turns popping their respective cherries.”

She shivered while she ran her hands up and down her body. “Incredible, though I’d hope you’d flush their inferior essence out of me before we finished.”

“But of course,” he cheerfully clucked. “Your womb is mine and mine alone, and I’ll not risk having some mere colt knocking you up.”

“My thanks,” she reverently uttered. “You truly are the first stud I’ve ever met who’s worthy to claim me.”

Sitting upright, he extended his arms and sank his fingers into her tits. “Indeed. Shall we warm up that hungry foal-factory of yours now or should we wait for our little educational session?”

She’d been hoping he’d ask. “If it’s all the same to you, let us practice patience. I’d like for the moment to be special, although we can tease one another to heighten the anticipation.” Rolling to the side, she seated herself beside him and patted her lap. “Come and nurse from mommy.”

“Mommy,” he quietly repeated. Shifting and laying across her thighs, he smiled up at her. “You’re not trying to give me a new fetish ~ are you?”

“Perish the thought,” she mirthfully countered while leaning forward and smothering him with a bosom. “If anything, I’m simply preparing myself for when I’m caring for our foals.”

Reaching over and wrapping her fingers around his pillar-like cock, she stroked him off as he began to suckle on her teat. She didn’t have offspring, she didn’t want offspring, and she’d damned if she was going to let a fatherless wretch like Shaka sire an offspring with her, yet the sheer wrongness which came from envisioning herself becoming amorous with her son was enough to make her marehood weep with excitement. Trembling and cradling his head to her bust, she tightened her grasp while pumping his shaft.

Within seconds, he was quietly groaning as he nursed on her - within no more than a scant few minutes, rivulets of pre-cum were dribbling down his length and wetting her hand. With his enhanced senses and adjusted biology, his hormonal balance and brain being that of a colt, she was confident that she could make him cum from a hand-job alone - as a matter of fact, were it not for a small gift she’d imparted upon him, it was entirely possible that he would have blown a load already. Shifting and swinging her legs to the side, she lowered him to the mattress and released him.

Shaka slid over, placed his feet to the floor, and stood at the bedside. “I know just the place where we could enjoy a small outing. It’s Saturday ~ correct?”

“It is,” she affirmed, rising up and looming over him. “Where might we be going, my special little colt?”

“There’s a large park with a playground in Fillydelphia what is likely brimming with foals at this hour,” he explained. “If we hurry we could ~ what are you doing?”

Lifting his arms and slipping a t-shirt onto him, she pecked his cheek. “Getting you ready. Inafaa,” she muttered. While she knelt down and presented a pair of boxers, the garments shrank to fit him. “If you would…”

He stepped into the undergarment and allowed her to pull them up his legs. “At least I know my progeny will be adequately pampered.”

“Would you not get jealous of me despoiling him?” she wryly quipped.

“Hardly,” he snickered. “Should he share our traits, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn he started making advances toward you.”

Pushing herself up, having dressed him and refitted his clothing, she donned a shirt and the most conservative skirt she had available. There was no sense in wearing a bra or pair of panties, given what they’d be doing, so she let her breasts and nethers remain largely uncovered. As he took her by the hand and nodded up at her, she willed her power to life.

“Sambaza…”

The world around them exploded into a kaleidoscope of colors and a cacophony of sounds that defied comprehension. Shaka may have had means to teleport himself, yet she, unlike him, didn’t need some paltry bauble for such a thing. Blinking away the spots in her vision, she held Shaka steady.

He grimaced as he looked around himself. “This is unfortunate. Unless I’m mistaken about our whereabouts, the park is on the other side of town.”

“While that’s a bit of a bother, we’re in luck ~ see?” she noted.

It wasn’t by happenstance that they’d appeared by a bus stop. Their location, as well as the remainder of the day, had been planned with the utmost care, and she had plenty of surprises in store for him. Gently guiding Shaka over to a nearby bench, she motioned for him to sit.

Easing himself down, he hung and shook his head. “It’s a shame I’m not larger, because I’d be willing to let you sit on my lap.”

“Who said I can’t do that now?” she whispered. Stepping before him and presenting her back, she gradually lowered herself then abruptly stopped. “Whip it out…”

With the disparity of their sizes, sheathing herself on him in a clandestine manner would be easy enough to pull off. As soon as he reclined and flicked open his shorts, his stallionhood sprang free and into view. She acted with haste, wasting no time with positioning herself, squatting down, and hilting him in her depths.

Reclining and draping his arms over the back of the bench, he playfully thrust into her. “Comfy?”

“Very,” she moaned.

She didn’t have to pretend to enjoy the feeling of fullness he afforded. Large enough to give her a good stretch, while being just small enough to be manageable, his dick was practically flawless - yeah, she’d actually grown to like how big and bestial his adult endowment was, but his marginally lessened size let her handle him with relative ease. Keeping her movements subtle, she braced herself and lazily worked his shaft.

Being naughty in a public setting, while fun, was going to be particularly dangerous. She easily passed for double or even triple his age, anypony who saw him would mistake him for a minor, and doing anything out in the open was illegal in and of itself. Had it not been for Shaka’s intervention at the mall, using his abilities to wipe the memories of all parties involved, both of them would have ended up being locked up - now, balls deep on a stallion who could pass for her son, she felt certain that any Royal Guards would throw the book at her.

Constricting him in her depths, she peeked back at him. “Fuck me…”

He kept his arms outstretched as he planted his feet and drove his hips upward. Their precarious circumstances simply didn’t let them go all out, but that was the point. Unless they wanted to deal with a massive series of headaches, they’d have to be sneaky and screwing in the most unobtrusive way possible.

She slapped his hand away when he went to tug down her top. “Not yet. If you’re - Mmmn - fast enough, we’ll have to take the bus while your seed is taking root inside me…”

Her comment, given largely in jest, apparently tickled his fancy in the most wondrous of ways. Hugging her from behind, he pressed himself to her back and railed her out with renewed vigor. With his stallionhood kissing her womb with each plunge, she glanced over and spotted a bus rolling in their direction.

Every second was going to count, and she was going to ride him until she had no choice but to stop. As she milked him for all her worth, the shirt brushed against her bosoms. Though the stimulation of fabric against her nipples was faint, barely enough to notice, it drove her closer to her limit.

“Don’t stop,” she rasped while she swung an arm back to caress his side.

His breakneck pace, his stifled grunts, and the feeling of him flaring were perfection made manifest. Purely from a tangible standpoint, there was no way she would have been able to climax from such a short-lived fling - fortunately for her, pleasure wasn’t something locked to the corporeal. Fixating on what her designs for him, she apathetically got up when the bus eased to a stop.

“Legelege,” she said peacefully over her shoulder.

With a sweat-streaked, Shaka looked from her to his rapidly softening length in consternation. “W…what did -”

“The bus is here, sweetie,” she chirped. “Are you ready to go to the park?”

She played her part so impeccably, acting like his mother or a close family member, that nopony on the bus batted an eye at her. With a welcoming smile on her face, and an outstretched hand, she beckoned to him. Having to obey her, lest he come across as some unruly, petulant foal, he wavered for only a moment before zipping up his pants and stepping to her side.

“I’ll find us somewhere to sit,” he groused as he boarded the bus.

As he cast himself into the first seat found, his mind raced wildly. He knew what had just happened, that he’d nearly climaxed at record speed, but he was totally bewildered as to why it had happened. His endurance, honed through decades of bedding all manner of creatures, was a mockery of its former self - more serious still was that he hadn’t been able to cum!

Swiftly checking around himself, ensuring he wasn’t being watched, he pulled at the front of his shorts and glared down at his package. Everything looked fine, his limp stallionhood was the same as it had been when he’d first roused from his slumber, there was no overt sign that anything was wrong with him. Just as Sahira joined him, seconds from asking her, he spotted something on his brimming coin purse.

He couldn’t see it clearly, and he had no interest in playing with his goods on a bus full of passengers, yet he’d spied what seemed to be part of crest or sigil on his balls. Zebrican magic was a far departure from what unicorns or alicorns wielded. His variety of sorcery relied heavily on something akin to conjuration and alteration, as opposed to Sahira’s who utilized abilities that leaned heavily on suggestion and alchemy - at least, he was relatively certain of how her powers worked.

“What’s that?” he hissed.

“That’s called a penis, dear!” she answered. “It’s what stallions like -”

Seizing her by the collar, he pulled her closer. “No, that mark. What spell did you just cast?”

“That was just to help you, namely a certain part of you, relax,” she coolly replied. “That mark has been there for hours, long before you opened your eyes this morning, and it was the first thing I did after I’d shattered the curse you placed on me.”

“What is it?” he raged.

Grinning from ear to ear, she ran her fingers through his mane. “You’ll have to find out, my special little colt.”

Enough was enough. He’d never shied away from making a spectacle of himself, though starting a fight would draw unnecessary attention and potentially result in him getting mercilessly thrashed by her - no, he’d have to resort to other means to beat her. Filling his lungs and dredging an exceptionally grizzly hex from his memory, one that would flay her alive, he froze.

With a look of concern on her face, she touched the back of her hand to his forehead. “Are you feeling unwell, dear?”

The blood in his veins went ice cold, his stomach twisted into a knot, and a wave of nausea over him. As with his indomitable physique, she’d taken or at the very least locked away his ability to use sorcery. Falling back into his seat, he stared blankly at the ceiling.

She gave him a peck on the cheek, sat back, and withdrew her arm. “That’s ok, sweetie, Mommy will make you feel better very, very soon…”

There’d been times in his life when he’d been helpless in one way or another, including the initial, impassioned exchange he’d had with Sahira, though never once to such a severe degree. She could kill him with a word - hells, she could have killed him dozens of times over that very morning, and he was completely at her mercy. He wanted to be angry, scared, and confused as to how he’d ended up in such a pitiable state, yet a cold numbness deprived him of his power to do or feel anything.

Turning to face him, she drew her hand along the imprint of his softened dick. “You didn’t think I would ever do anything to hurt you ~ did you?”

“Yes,” he flatly confessed while trying to ignore the pleasurable sensation of her sensual touch, “although I fear that whatever awaits me will make death look compassionate…”

She sat back while rubbing the imprint of his progressively hardening stallionhood. “So dramatic! If I did anything too severe, how could we keep playing our little game?”

Blowing air through his nostrils, he massaged his temples. She’d made a strong point, because of fucking course she had. Toys were only fun for as long as they lasted or until they were replaced, and he was willing to bet that she, in some small part, was thrilled with the challenge of breaking him.

The remainder of their ride was relatively tranquil, and they found themselves standing at the park after only a few minutes. While he trudged along beside her, his eyes swept over the sprawling greenery and the many ponies present. Families played or picnicked together, there were a few couples chatting and enjoying one another’s company, and a few individuals sunned themselves atop beach towels. The scene would have been a tranquil one, had a wolf not been in their midst.

Pulled off the path, he growled. “Must you?”

“Must I find us a secluded spot? Yes, I should think so,” she demurely responded. Bringing him to a tree surrounded by shrubbery, she let go of his hand, sank to all fours, and started clearing a patch of grass. “There’s nothing stopping you from trying to unwind a bit - honestly, you’re just so uptight.”

While he peered at her backside, a heady mixture of rage and lust welled up within him. There was nothing stopping him from doing any number of things, including rutting her into submission. She’d overly said she wasn’t going to murder him, he was still extraordinarily well-endowed, and it may be possible to turn the tables on her.

Silently loosening his shorts, he pantsed himself. “You may have forgotten something…”

“What’s - Mmmmmn!” she whimpered as he slid into her from behind.

“I’m still a stud, sow,” he rasped.

Filling her in a smooth thrust, he clung to her backside and began fucking her with everything he had. She was a mare, an inferior creature in every retard, and he was going to remind her of that. Clamping a hand over her snout, she muffled herself and collapsed onto her chest. If it was the last thing he ever did, he would prove that she was beneath him.

Sahira mewled into her palm as a tide of bliss washed over her. Had she known she would be mounted so forcefully, she would have spread herself open and gotten into a more comfortable position - regrettably, he hadn’t been kind enough to give her any warning. Getting and straightening one arm under herself, she lifted her torso.

“H…harder,” she sputtered. “Plow Mommy harder, baby!”

Rewarding her plea with a harsh smack on her tush, he snarled. “You’re so pathetic. A supposedly proud mare being utterly dominated by a colt! I’d say you should feel ashamed of yourself, but I wouldn’t want you to cum quicker than you -”

She interrupted him with an orgasmic squeal. There were many things she could fake, yet a deluge of nectar and the way her depths convulsed were not two of them. Her capitulation, taking only a few thrusts, would have been sad, were it not as gratifying as it was. Seizing and violently wrenching the dock of her tail, he stepped onto her calves and changed the angle of his plunges.

Fueled by raw determination, the burning need to subjugate her, and pure fury, he hammered into her with all the force he could muster. She’d stolen almost everything from him, yet through hubris or ignorance she’d let him keep his massive cock and the experience needed to transform it into a mighty weapon. While he watched her face twist with rapture, his smile met his eyes.

His victory over her was assured, and he had her to thank for it. Once he was finished with her, screwing her until she couldn’t stand, he’d trot off to inform the closest adult he could find that she’d taken advantage of him - after that, he’d find a way home and reverse engineer her hex. For as shrewd and formidable as she was, her actions would lead to one of two consequences - imprisonment or a life on the lam, and he’d live comfortably knowing that he’d bested her.

With his pride elevating his bliss, he flew into a frenzy. While his faculties were still those of an adult, his adolescent biology, including that of his brain, acted against him. As he rocketed to a climax, abandoning all technique, he lowered his head and bit down on her tail. The pain he delivered devastated her, compelling her to wail gleefully while she bathed his lower half in her orgasmic juices, was a testament to…

His thoughts derailed and panic shot through him. He’d been on the cusp of release for too long - far too long, although his end wouldn’t come. Seeing her affix him with a golden eye, he attempted to stop rutting her - attempted and failed spectacularly. There was a point where anypony, even somepony as experienced as himself, could no longer control themselves - for him, he’d passed far beyond it.

Fiercely bucking back against him, using her superior side, she sent him flying off of her. He landed with a dull stud, his vision filled with the sky overhead, and she was upon him faster than he could ever dare to react. Squatting over him, she pinned his arms to his sides as she savagely screwed herself on him.

“What’s wrong?” she jeered. “Does my little colt want some relief?”

That was it. It wasn’t that he hadn’t cum - it was that he couldn’t cum. The sigil on his balls, his unusually high endurance, the subtle hints she’d dropped - they all made sense in the most dreadful of ways. Torn between heaven and hell, he weakly brayed and squirmed against her. He’d had the arrogance to believe he knew what torment was, yet she’d opened his eyes to a new layer of agony.

His ecstasy reached such heights that they became excruciating, erasing the line between pleasure and pain. This wasn’t about winning or losing, it was about instruction. Their first bout had kicked off on somewhat equal ground, with both wanting to vanquish the other, and the second had set a precedent. She was devouring him, closing the icy, unyielding jaws of madness around him, and prayed he could survive it.

The foundations of his resolve quaked as his dignity gradually decayed and fell to ruin. A stallion shouldn’t cry for anything, not the least of which being some malignant whore who’d woven a depraved, inescapable web, and understanding that only made his pitiable lamentations all the more degrading. Feebly lifting his hips to meet her descents, only to have them slammed back to the earth, his fighting spirit was viciously snuffed out.

On and on she went, periodically changing her pace or her exact positioning, until tears streamed down his face. Release dangled above him, only barely out of his reach, and she was the key to his salvation. Sniveling and finding the courage to face her, for he had no other alternative, he gazed up at her cruel visage.

“Beg…”

“P…please!” he sobbed. “Please let me cum!”

Slowing to a halt, while keeping his length sheathed in her silken confines, she brought her muzzle to his ear. “Cum…”

Words couldn’t capture the absolute joy that flooded through him. She’d told him to cum, so he’d cum - it was as simple as that. His entire body spasmed, his mouth hung open in a noiseless scream, and his eyes crossed as he emptied his balls into her. The burden which had been lifted from him was astronomical - soul-crushing even, and it left him annihilated.

Sahira basked in the moment for what felt like an eternity. “I trust you haven’t expired prematurely…”

Seeing his chest rise and fall, yet getting no reaction when she waved a hand in front of his face, she giggled. He wouldn’t forget this anytime soon, and she couldn’t wait to see what he’d devise to use against her. Unseating herself from him, she stood and went to retrieve his shorts. Though she wasn’t fully accountable for their spirited competition, she was going to be the one who finished it - provided that he didn’t surrender. While she carefully and lovingly dressed him, she ruminated on what, if any, preparations she should make for her little plaything’s next visit…

Chapter 4

“How very quaint,” Sahira began, trotting through the barn and over to Shaka. “Is this where you were raised, or is it your summer home?”

Holding up a hand, Shaka kept his back turned to her. “You’ll be amused to know that it’s neither, harridan. If you’ll excuse me for just one moment, I’m trying to make preparations.”

She slowed to a halt and curtly obliged his request. “I’m guessing said preparations don’t involve a white flag and an apology cake.”

“Not quite,” he laughed, “although I’m sure you’ll enjoy them nonetheless.”

Turning in place, she studied her surroundings. It had come as no shock that she’d received a terse invitation to see him, what with how their last little tryst ended, yet she was somewhat bewildered by the location of their rendezvous. Not only had he wished to speak with her in Equestria, once again showing his dubious tastes for company, but he’d arranged for them to meet in a disused and, from the look of the place, abandoned farm.

Empty stables ran along both sides of a spacious alleyway cutting through the expansive structure, there was stale straw underfoot, and the stink of mildew hung in the air. Why he’d summoned her to such a place was beyond her, but she was certain that he had something up his nonexistent sleeve. As her eyes swept over and to his back, she scrunched her snout.

After their time in Fillydelphia, having gone so far as to ferry him home without so much as a spanking or tongue lashing, he should have learned his lesson - honestly, he should have thanked her. She could have easily continued her torment in perpetuity, keeping him as her underaged plaything until she tired of him, yet she’d taken pity on him. Had he not been as entertaining and attractive as he was, giving her more stimulation that she’d ever dare to admit, he would have been in a shallow grave or shackled to his bed ages ago.

“I would presume you’d like me to stay put, lest I ruin whatever droll surprise you’re working on,” she quipped.

He turned his head, gazed over his shoulder at her, and smiled. “Not in the slightest. Feel free to come over and indulge your curiosity.”

Having no reason to do otherwise, and with nothing particularly interesting to busy herself with, she sauntered over to his side. Arts of the occult were as diverse as fruit of the world, only having the smallest commonalities between different practices and schools of thought, and she was quite curious to learn of how his particular skills worked. The faster she could unravel how his powers worked, the quicker she could discern ways to counteract them or even use them against him.

“Almost done,” he noted, grinding some unfamiliar flower into a mortar filled with herbs.

“Will this little concoction of yours be for yourself?” she inquired.

He completed with his work, tapped the pestle against the stone bowl’s rim, and grinned. “As a matter of fact, it is. Any ideas what it will do?”

“None at all,” she flatly answered. “Is that going to enhance your abilities or give you some edge to reap vengeance against me.”

“Would you believe that you’re wrong on both accounts? Excuse me,” he murmured as he gathered up the mortar and turned. “This mixture will -”

“I’d rather you not spoil it,” she interrupted. “I’m confident that you’ve put a great deal of time, effort, and inconsiderable intellect into setting all this up, and I’d hate to take the wind out of your sails.”

She grinned broadly when he scowled and walked away. Virtually every stallion she’d ever met was conceited in some form or fashion, even if they pretended to be otherwise, and Shaka’s pride was a source of endless amusement for her. He thought he was better than her, and he had managed to get the upper hand on her a small number of times, although she knew the truth of the matter. Gifted though he was, she was the superior shaman and zebra.

“You’re right about one thing, that I have taken great care to craft this,” he grumbled while displaying the concoction. Scooping the paste from the mortar, he consumed the strange mixture and shuddered. “There we are…”

Coming up behind him, she hugged his back and pressed her breasts against him. “Shaka, when will you cease this madness and join me willingly? I can be quite the forgiving mistress, I’d be willing to share my bed with you, and you know full well that my company comes with benefits…”

She shifted around to his side, lifted one leg, and rubbed her marehood against his thigh. For all the rancor between them, he enjoyed fucking her as much as she enjoyed getting fucked by him - of that, she had no doubt whatsoever. As she pawed at his chest, he tossed the earthen bowl to the side and turned his attention down to her.

“It’s fortunate that you chose to come in a state of undress,” he remarked.

“And why’s that, my soon to be slave?” she purred while shamelessly lowering a hand to caress his steadily swelling stallionhood.

In truth, she was wearing no more or less than she typically did while in her home - that being virtually nothing. A necklace of fangs hung from around her neck, coming down over her breast bone, while a loincloth dangled over her crotch. Zebricans didn’t bat an eye to one of their kind walking around nude, and she couldn’t care less about what Equestrians would think of seeing her as she was - as such, she would go out and about wearing as much or as little as she so chose.

He shifted and gently pushed her away. “While that is an enticing offer, I have a counter-proposal.”

Backing up and giving him some space, she squinted when he knelt down and got on all fours. “That being…?”

“If you’ll - Nnnnf - just give me a moment,” he growled.

As he drew a deep breath, filling his lungs as much as he was able, his eyes drifted closed. There were a litany of things he’d considered doing for her, but the one he’d finally settled on was going to be difficult for a number of reasons. In addition to the amount of power he would have to exert, the spell he’d chosen would come with a cost.

Smoke billowed from his maw while he exhaled through clenched teeth. What began as a warmth in his belly grew into an ache that was followed by a bolt of pain. Snarling under his breath, refusing to give any sign of weakness, he held himself steady as his bones cracked, muscles swelled in size, and his figure deformed.

He’d understood that the process would not be pleasant, but it was far, far worse than he could have imagined. While he was still himself, retaining his sense of self, the same couldn’t be said for his form. His knees snapped back with a sickening crack, his limbs lengthened, and every part of him expanded in size, while he focused entirely on his breathing.

Suffering couldn’t begin to describe the experience, but it was a small price to pay for what he would gain. Every creature on the planet was a product of time, their respective species evolving over thousands upon thousands of years to become what they were in this day, and zebras were no different. In ages long past, before they’d become civilized and conquered the elements, they were little more than beasts - beasts which were a wellspring of untapped potential.

“There,” he exhaled, sensing the metamorphosis come to a close.

He cracked an eye and peered down at himself. His broad chest and pecs had rounded out, with his arms - no, forelegs leading down to the earth and ending in a pair of hooves, and he couldn’t see the rest of himself. The sensation of his primal body was odd, being heavier, larger, and unfamiliar to what he was used to, although it inexplicably felt right.

Turning and looking over to his guest, he flipped his shaggy mane away from his face. “Would it bother you if I acclimate for a minute or so?”

Sahira slowly shook her head. “By all means…”

“My thanks,” he hummed, prancing forward.

He had hypothesized that the most primitive portions of his brain would adapt to his newfound yet ancient morphology, that of a quadruped, and he was pleased to learn his theory was correct. Moving in perfect harmony, his legs carried him to one end of the barn, around a small circle, then back to Sahira without any issues whatsoever. Though he’d like to savor the gratification of reverting to an animalistic, prehistoric state, he had little time to waste.

To put it simply, he was on the clock. His faculties would gradually slip through his hands - er - hooves, so he had to act fast. Eyeing her bare breasts and midriff, he lowered his snout to her groin and drew a breath through his nose. After their various exchanges, he was familiar with her scent - nevertheless, the aroma of her marehood to his novel, oversized nostrils was divine. He chuckled as he rose to his full height and gazed down upon her.

She was a fairly diminutive for a mare her age, being none too tall or impressive in build, but now she appeared even smaller and more frail than ever. He had to be at least quadruple her size now, weighing vastly more than he had prior while also looming over her by a considerable margin, and yet she didn’t appear alarmed - on the contrary, she was smiling. Feeling his stallionhood slip from its sheath, he waggled his eyebrows.

“Here,” she whispered, rubbing her snatch before jamming her hand to his muzzle, “this should help.”

“How very forward of you, my dear Sahira,” he rumbled. “Shall I respond in kind?”

Walking down his body, she ran her fingers down his neck, over his shoulder, and along his side. “I’m fully capable of doing it myself, but thank you.”

He swung his head to one side as she squatted down at his flank. “It was my hope that a savage like you would appreciate something a bit more uncivilized.”

She gave no response, apparently too enamored with the sheer enormity of his package to do otherwise. His transfiguration was far more than skin deep, although he’d spared her the details of what else he’d done to himself. It was only a matter of time until his plan came to fruition and she suffered the consequences of her impertinent, cavalier actions against him.

“Some of us are more in-tune with our inner-selves,” she mumbled while she inched beneath him, “although you’re not wrong.”

Bringing her face to the side of his pendulous shaft, she licked her lips in a mixture of apprehension and lust. The musk rolling off him was heavenly, more potent and alluring than his normal bouquet, and his endowment was so utterly massive even a towering dragon would struggle to accommodate it. She was completely aware that this was a trap for her, detecting arcane energies laced with his aroma from the instant he’d imbibed the concoction he’d made, but that only made it all the more enticing.

She stopped just short of touching him, having the wherewithal to take a precautionary measure of her own, and frowned. “Kubadilika…”

Peaking a brow, he snorted. “What was -”

“Oh hush,” she clucked. “That was for me.”

He didn’t need to know what she’d said, but he’d likely puzzle it out soon enough. Her hexes could be used to influence practically any creature she so chose, from simple-minded insects to the intellectual elite, and she was no exception. Should things go the way she thought, which she very much expected, she was going to need to be a bit more pliable than usual.

“Is this your first time doing this?” she asked while gawking at his melon-sized balls.

“Would you believe me if I said it was?” he cheerfully retorted.

Recoiling, she gasped. “No!”

“It’s the truth,” he smoothly affirmed. “I’ve experimented with other transmutations before, on a few occasions, but nothing to this extent.”

“Shaka, you are an absolute treat,” she sighed as she lazily pawed at his nuts. “To think that you’d go to such lengths for little old me is - why, I have no words! Once we’re done here, remind me to show you a few similar tricks of my own.”

His lip curled while she spoke. Her actions spoke for themselves, and condescension laced her every word. She wasn’t taking this seriously at all, too damn haughty or ignorant to fully grasp the peril she was in, but he was going to fix that. Stepping over out of instinct, merely wanting to get a better look at her, he was further annoyed that he couldn’t adequately see her.

Kissing her way over his profound coin purse, she giggled. “Shame that you can’t see what I’m doing?”

“Yes, but it’s hardly the end of the world,” he grumbled.

While she dragged her tongue from his nuts to the thick, fleshy folds of his sheath, exotic flavors exploded over her palate. It was clear that he hadn’t washed himself in some time, either in an attempt to degrade her or amplify his natural bouquet, and his taste was just as overpowering as his smell. The earthy, sharp, acrid, and bitter notes of his flesh were exquisite and complemented his feral form wondrously.

“By chance,” she continued as she sluggishly shuffled to one side, “did you anticipate that I would be as eager as I am?”

He peered back at her with a single, emerald eye. “I did. You are an exotic mare, Sahira, and to give you nothing less than what you deserve would be beneath me.”

Playfully batting a hand at him, she stroked the underside of his gargantuan shaft. “Shaka, what am I going to do with you? If we continue with these little sessions, all your pony friends will start to talk!”

“If they’re not already, they will be when you’re accompanying me while carrying my foal” he mused. “On that note ~ do you think I could impregnate you like this?”

His question, for as simple and softly spoken as it was, upended her thoughts. Could he knock her up? Though she had no answer for him, uncertain on if such a thing was possible, the idea of being bred by a primeval stallion was a titillating one. Imagining just how much seed his gargantuan balls could produce, moved around to fully face his stallionhood.

The tip of his length was bigger than her fist, his shaft was nearly as big as her leg, and his height was such that she was able to maneuver under him with room to spare, although his tremendous girth came with one substantial drawback. Sucking him off would be awkward at best and infeasible at worst - however, she wasn’t without her means. Patting his underbelly to assure she had his attention, she whipped around, reclined, and craned her head back..

“Oooooooh,” he snickered. “Would you like me to do the honors?”

“Yes,” she huffed, somewhat irritated that he hadn’t simply seized the initiative. “In me or on me, I wish to see what a stud of your caliber is capable of.”

With a single step forward, he kissed his cock-head to her muzzle. “I’ll try not to disappoint. Deep breath, darling.”

She was inhaling before he’d finished speaking, though not because he’d requested her to do so. Their differences in form would complicate matters slightly, if only by making things slightly less convenient. Letting him take the lead, she opened her mouth as far as she could, extended her tongue, and reached down to her crotch.

With a buck of his hips, Shaka sank his stallionhood into her snout and straight down her throat. He’d only meant to give her the tip, just enough to let her know what she was in for, yet he hadn’t accounted for his increased strength and size. As he relished in the sounds of her muted gags, he shrugged and inched forward.

To Tartarus with it - he was going to fuck her face sooner or later, yearning to despoil every hole she had before his enchantment ran its course, so starting things with an all but literal bang wouldn’t hurt anything. Shifting his hips and freeing a portion of his length, he gave a second, far more powerful thrust. The heat and snugness of her gullet was even more incredible than ever, and they were compounded by the fact that he had total and complete control over her.

The position she’d taken, leaned back while wantonly fingering herself, was actually quite clever. Had she faced him fully, rutting her muzzle wouldn’t have been as enjoyable for either of them - on top of that, with how she was situated, he had a perfect view of her shamelessly getting off. With a contented sigh, he kept his head lowered as he began swabbing her throat.

It really was a pity that he’d forgotten to grab a camera or mirror for the event, because he would have loved to see the two of them going at it. Her neck bulged with each plunge of his cock, swelling obscenely while she was driven forward, and he wasn’t even close to hilting her snout. Lowering his gaze past her unimpressive chest and toned abdomen, his eyes settled on her nethers.

If her actions were any testament for how she was feeling, she was having a ball with the rough treatment. Her hand was all but buried in her cunt, her knuckles disappearing and reappearing from her obsidian, lower lips, while she choked herself with her free hand. The sight of her not only enduring, but enjoying herself was equal parts thrilling and infuriating.

She was supposed to be overwhelmed, becoming drunk with lust prior to him ruthlessly dominating her, yet she’d been crafty enough to hinder his designs. Trotting ahead and bringing his crotch squarely over her, he pushed her up and hammered down into her face. So help him, he was going to put her in her place once and for all.

Plowing her so hard that her spine flexed, he growled. He could and had fucked her so brutally that she’d lost the use of her legs, and was eager to see the havoc his enhanced form could deliver. Despite whatever curse she’d murmured to herself, something advantageous hex, it wouldn’t be enough to save her.

As he stared at her lower belly, just above her pelvis, his thoughts dwelled on breeding her. She was young enough to give him as many foals as he’d like, she’d unquestionably provide him endless entertainment, and was sure he could put her arcane might and rapier’s wit to a fitting use - granted, she may not be a good mother, although he could always find other, more suitable mares to act as surrogates. With his medial ring rhythmically bumping against her lips, and his nuts slapping on her face, he snapped from his stupor when he realized he’d made an egregious miscalculation.

He immediately slowed his pace and reined himself in. At some point, though he knew not when, his raging id had surpassed his ego. Uttering a silent curse, he shook his head to clear his mind. Damned, beastly body - he’d only been like this for a short time, at most a few minutes, yet it was already contending with latent urges that were usually quite easy to suppress.

Pacing himself, he picked up where he’d left off and thrust into her snout. The only reasonable explanation for how she hadn’t passed out was the spell she’d subtly cast. Anypony, irrespective of how masochistic and promiscuous they were, wouldn’t have been able to fellate a stallionhood of his magnitude, although she’d managed to do it with ease. Peeking up to her chest and seeing it heave, on the cusp of unleashing his full potential, he grinned.

She was putting on a strong front for him, throttling herself while masturbating to put on a show. Unsure of if he should be frustrated or delighted, he sheathed himself in her face. Theatrics and posturing aside, she wouldn’t be able to withstand his assault for long without losing consciousness.

Sahira’s eyes bulged, her lungs burned, and her heart spasmed violently in her bosom. While she’d successfully augmented her pliability beyond mortal means, effectively turning her bones to cartilage, she couldn’t breathe at all. With her knees bent and impacted in the straw-lined earth, and having nearly a ton of muscle ferociously fucking her from above, her circumstances had gone from troubling to dire. Shifting her hand and frantically massaging her clit, she quaked and threw herself headlong into a climax.

Should this be her end, having the life strangled from her by the biggest, most magnificent stud she’d ever had the ill fortune of crossing paths with, at least she would die in a puddle of her feminine juices. The orgasm she suffered, intensified by the adrenaline flooding her system, was incredible and an instrument of her own destruction. Her arms went slack, falling and hanging lifelessly by her sides, while her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

This was it, she was going to perish and be judged by all the infernal forces she’d made pacts with, and she was powerless to stop it. Staring into the precipice of oblivion, she mentally cursed Shaka one last time. Judgment would come for him, as it did for everypony, although she regretted that she wouldn’t be around to see it.

Topping back and crashing to the ground, she coughed pre-cum and saliva over her face. As oxygen surged through her system, driven by her madly pumping heart and spasming lungs, the world came into focus. Shaka had relented, backing away and hauling his length from her maw, though what had compelled him to spare her was an abject mystery.

She lethargically pushed herself up and wiped her face on a forearm, buying as much time as she could to gather herself. He wouldn’t have stopped without a damn fine reason, if she knew him in the slightest, and she was in no hurry to find out why. Craning and twisting her neck as he trotted by, she glanced over at an odd structure near the far end of the barn.

“For - Hack - for me?” she rasped, her voice hoarse and none too steely.

Shaka stamped a forehoof and motioned his head toward the breeding rack. “Indeed it is, my sweet. Since my little mare is so accommodating and enthusiastic, perhaps she’d like to make herself comfortable over here.”

In defiance of sound logic and her survival instincts, she shakily stood and brushed herself off. “I thought you’d never ask…”

Unlike Shaka, whose self-worth was so inflated that he should have floated into the heavens decades ago, she had a firm grasp of her own shortcomings - including her inability to back down. It was beyond foolish of her to subject herself to a proper rutting after nearly blacking out, especially due to how immense her vexing admirer was, but she would not - could not yield. She may face the reaper, or she could possibly find a way to best him - in either case, the only way she was going to quit was if she was forced to.

“Easy does it,” he tutted, standing firm while she unsteadily lumbered over to him. “Would you like a helping hoof, or would -”

“With all due respect, fuck off,” she snarled. Seeing herself to and supporting herself against the breeding mount, she caught her breath and steadied herself. “Where’d you even find one of these?”

Inspecting the sturdy wooden construct, he nickered. “Believe it or not, the ponies of Equestria utilize cows and bulls for dairy products.”

“And they call us savages,” she spat. Shakily throwing a leg over the leather-padded mount, she pulled herself into place and tentatively wriggled onto her back. “How do you put up with them?”

He rolled his shoulders as he stepped up and placed a forehoof onto one of the stand’s hoofrests. “Limitless patience - oh and they can be fun little diversions. Both the mares and stallions of their kind are quite tight.”

“I wouldn’t know,” she groused, kicking her legs up to either side of his barrel. “Their stallions are woefully lacking in both endowment and resolve.”

“Then it’s a good thing you have me,” he cooed.

Baring her teeth, she locked eyes with him. “Aren’t I the lucky one…”

“Oh but you are,” he breathed. Straddling both her and the mount, he bucked his hips. “Think you can take it?”

She leered down at his stallionhood while keeping her lips sealed. With his tremendous length bearing against her, reaching from her loins nearly to her collar, the disparity of their sizes was made all the more obvious. Clutching and sandwiching her modest bosoms to either side of his shaft, she dipped her head to nurse on his cock head. He’d get what he wanted shortly, railing her until she was incapacitated or moving on to the afterlife, yet he’d never have the satisfaction of hearing her beg or make an attempt to delay the inevitable.

Moving at a leisurely pace, he unhurriedly humped away at her. His dick was nearly as broad as her thigh and practically as long as her leg, stretching the length of her torso, and imagining what it would do to her was so electrifying that he nearly screwed her right then and there - nearly. Regardless of how resilient she’d made herself, the act of having her insides rearranged and thoroughly pulped should yield some interesting results.

He played with her for several minutes, viewing the interlude as sort of a lecherous palate cleanser, until his instinctual desires demanded he stop mucking about. As he repositioned himself and got ready, having to step down then back up to jam the tip of his length to her entrance, his cock angrily throbbed. If he was as prolific as he assumed he was, Sahira’s fecundity was going to be put to the ultimate test.

“F…fuck…” she hissed while her marehood yielded to the unstoppable force that was his hips.

Her expression shifted to a blend of distress and pleasure while she was languidly impaled, though it brought him no small amount of joy. Continuing on until his balls softly settled against her tush, he admired her from above. It wasn’t uncommon for particularly well-hung stallions to claim they made their lovers into cock-sleeves, jesting that they were so endowed that their mates could barely accommodate them, but he’d genuinely done just that.

“Tell me if it gets too intense,” he chuckled, unable to take one final jab at her.

With nothing more to be said, he surrendered himself to his beastly wants. There was no steady escalation of force, build-up, or pity - instead, he simply ravaged her like what he was - a lust-crazed behemoth who pined to breed. Being a hot, tight set of holes would have been enough to motivate him, so the notion that he would sow his seed and carry on his legacy with her sent him into an absolute frenzy.

Her innards shifted around his pistoning lengths, her crazed howls sounded like the mad ravings of a possessed lunatic, and the mount itself jostled and threatened to collapse under the full fury of his rut-lust. In no time whatsoever, barely seconds, she came and bathed his crotch and pendulous nuts with her nectar. She was sick in a way that medicine couldn’t cure, so twisted and malign that some part of her was enjoying this, and he was happy to do the world a favor by taming her in such a brutal fashion.

Sahira clawed at his chest as tides of ecstasy engulfed her. The sensation of housing something so colossal within herself was beyond description. Intense, wholly alien feelings assailed her, pains and pleasures that she couldn’t classify, and they brought a twisted, rictus grin to her snout. She was going to lose to him, her body and mind pushed to their breaking point by Shaka’s barbaric onslaught, but she wasn’t going to go quietly.

Swinging her legs up and placing her heels on his hips, she bore down and gripped his stallionhood with all her might. “Is t…this all you can - Aaaaaahn!”

Unwilling to appease her with a verbal reply, he fully sheathed himself. While even a colt would have realized what she was doing, attempting to bait and anger him with hollow scorn, his temper flared. He would plow the rebelliousness out of her, even if it killed her, until she accepted her place as his lesser creature she was.

With as diverse as the world was, with myriads of sapient creatures of every persuasion, it was extremely rare for anypony to resort to bestiality; only true deviants and those who were unhinged would willingly have sex with a simple animal, and that was precisely why he’d chosen to pursue this route. She didn’t deserve him or any other sound-minded stallion - frankly, should either of them feel shame for what they were doing, it was him.

Anypony who would have stumbled upon the spectacle would have been given a moment for pause. There they were, a primeval stud and a modern mare, screwing with reckless, hedonistic abandon. Should somepony not be averse to the taboo of the show, not sickened by the sight of such a union, a closer inspection would have surely tested their mettle.

The imprint of Shaka’s tool was so clear that one could make out the thick veins along its shaft, the melange of sweat, musk, and sex was so strong that it could turn stomachs, and the discordant clash of marish wails and guttural snarls, punctuated by muted curses and heavy breaths, was so loud that anypony in the vicinity would have some inkling as to what was going on. There was nothing natural about the exchange, breaking fundamental laws of biology in a whole host of ways, and it was bereft of any affection whatsoever. Their pairing was a one-sided contest, and they both reveled in it.

Any joy she derived from his harsh treatment was an unwanted byproduct of his spite, and it, as with her disobedience, would be plowed out of her. When her hex failed, which it assuredly would, he would repeatedly screw her as he was until she renounced her heathen ways and committed herself to serving him. As she was dealt another calamitous blow, cumming so hard that her voice cracked, he smirked.

Each climax that overtook her sapped her of her strength, making it impossible to do anything other than squeal and thrash atop the stand she was pinned against. She hated him with burning wrath of a thousand sons, yet he gave her what she so desperately craved. Being dealt a particularly brutal thrust, she slipped to the side and fell unceremoniously to the ground.

“Up…”

The cold air against her gaped sex was more distressing than it had any right to be. Rolling to her side, she pushed herself up and touched a finger to her entrance. She needed no mirror to appreciate the devastation he’d wrought upon her. Her marehood was in ruins, yawning cavernous while leaking her feminine juices down her inner thighs, and its abuse was far from finished.

“Up,” Shaka repeated. “Or is my little sow unworthy of my consideration…?”

Rage bolstered her libido. Keeping her chest pressed to the earth, she lifted her waist and flagged her tail. It was fitting - should he mate with her, he would do so like the beast he was. Trotting over her and dipping his waist, he hilted her with a cruel plunge and sent her body gliding over the straw-covered earth.

The position she was in, her ass up and face smashed to the dirt, was even less humane than while she’d been on the mount moments prior - yes, he wasn’t able to dick her down as deeply as he had before, but he retained absolute control over her. While her anguish and ecstasy mingled, her higher functions began to fail.

Nonsensical images flitted through her rapture-addled mind, and each was more bizarre and enthralling than the last. The vision of her carrying a fully feral, zebra foal to term, with engorged, milk-filled breasts that draped over her ridiculously gravid stomach was compelling to say the least. Leading a simple life and taking a literal stance on animal husbandry would make her an even bigger outcast than she already was, yet it was so preposterously appealing that it evoked an orgasm.

Dropping his pelvis and sinking into her, Shaka snorted. It was impressive that she’d been able to get up like some needy whore, although he would never praise her for it. Mares like her, licentious individuals who sought out excess, weren’t so easily broken, and he was grateful for that. Instead of being upset or distraught with his predicament, he was glad that she was a tough nut to crack. The longer and more arduous the process, the sweeter the eventual reward

With his thoughts lingering on his inevitable conquest of her, he lowered himself and slammed his waist against her upturned rear. Was it particularly comfortable to rail her in such a fashion? No, although the small inconvenience was outweighed by the glee of her unintelligible screams. Practically spanking his balls against her clit, he twisted his head to one side and peeked down at her.

Even from the odd angle, the fleeting glimpses of her belly warping and distending belly were clearly visible. Enchanted or not, she’d be a changed mare after this - possibly to the point where she’d ask him to take on his primal form. As he approached his limit, sensing his balls churn and stallionhood flare, his feverish thrusts lost all rhythm.

Sahira’s tongue lolled out of her mouth while her eyes drifted back. The boundary between reality and fantasy became hazy, she’d cum so many times that her climaxes were dry, and her voice was a harsh, grating rasp. Had she crossed the threshold and entered the hereafter, the abyss was far more palatable than she would have guessed. There was some vague sense that he was close, largely because of his raging pace and how hard his cock throbbed, although she couldn’t plead for him to cum within her.

Moving in reverse and dragging her back, he yanked his stallionhood free and came. The sheer pettiness of robbing her what she longed for, a womb full of his foal-batter, overshadowed the bliss of cumming inside her. She’d previously refused to let him cum, when she’d turned him into a colt, so it was poetically fitting that he return the favor. Gallons of spunk erupted from him, slathering her insensate figure with his essence, while he laughed and shook his head.

“Go on,” he urged, “if you want it so badly, lick it up.”

He wavered when she stirred. Moving like a corpse, she weakly crawled to his hooves and lapped at the rapidly cooling jizz all around her. Of all the things he’d ever borne witness to, debaucheries that would turn the stomachs of even the most warped souls, the depths of her depravity had to contend for the worst of them.

“I…” he went quiet as she slithered beneath him to suck him clean.

He’d planned on leaving once he was through with her, abandoning her in the barn while he went out and helped himself to a drink and a much needed shower, yet he lingered. After she’d done him the kindness to see him home, delivering his youthful, drained self to his bed, it would only be fair to do the same for her. Though he loathed her, more so now than ever, she’d earned some sliver of respect - besides, the small courtesy would cement his standing as a just and forgiving master.

“S…shank yhou,” she slurred from under him.

Grunting and swinging his head from side to side, he smiled. “You’re welcome, my pet…”

Chapter 5

Shaka drowsily grumbled as he was awoken from his slumber. The air in his room was cool, his bed was warm, and he had planned on sleeping in - had being the key word. Pulling a pillow over his head, he set his jaw and tried to ignore the periodic barking coming from outside.

“Shut up!” he blared, bolting upright to scowl at a nearby window.

His outburst worked, silencing whatever stray mongrel had found its way to his home, although the reprieve was fleeting. Mere moments after resting his head, closing his eyes, and making himself comfortable, the damned beast went right back to making a racket. He didn’t, nor had he ever hated animals, yet the stray was doing its damnedest to change that.

Swinging his legs from under his sheets and over the side of his mattress, he got to his feet and trudged out of his bedchamber. If yelling wasn’t going to silence whatever accursed cursed hound had come to pay him a visit, perhaps a lobbed shoe would. As lumbered through his house to the entryway, his mood grew increasingly sour.

The ruined morning was unfortunate, starting the day on a decidedly poor note, and the state of his abode only served to frustrate him further. What had been a neat and relatively tidy living room was a mess, the floor was sullied by dirt and hoofprints, and there was a not inconsiderable amount of hay scattered about what was usually a tidy home. Reaching his front door, he sighed.

He’d known the risks involved with transforming himself into a primitive stallion, namely that his judgment and cognition would suffer from having a less advanced mind, although the consequences of his actions were unfortunate. His memories of everything that had transpired after he’d rutted Sahira into a mind-broken mess were hazy; he recalled depositing her at her hut, being hungry, and wandering off to get something to eat, but everything after that was a blur. Judging from his broken coffee table and how he’d roused from his slumber on his living room floor, he had nobody to blame but himself for the disarray around him.

The continued barking shook him from his stupor and reminded him of the more pressing issue at hand. He hadn’t cleaned up the day prior, having spent most of yesterday with something akin to a hangover, but he was going to address that after he got a bit more shuteye. Flinging his door open and preparing to shoo away the wayward animal, he faltered.

There, sitting before him and wagging excitedly, was a dog - a very unique dog. Large, curved horns grew from the beast’s head, its coat was snow white with black, meandering bands, and a pair of savagely pronounced canines hung from its upper jaw. It would have been odd for any domesticated animal to happen upon his house, although to discover a hellhound at his doorstep was downright puzzling.

Bark!

His aggravation faded when the beast began wagging its tail expectantly. His very first familiar had been a canine he’d summoned from the abyss, back when he’d only started dabbling with the occult and shamanism, and his memories of her rarely failed to bring a smile to his muzzle. Squatting down and beckoning to the infernal creature, he patted his thighs.

The hound stood and steadily approached, clearly interested in him but a touch too timid to cast itself into his arms. What in the world was it doing here? Had somepony abandoned it? Was this a gift from some mysterious fan of his or his work? While the hellish mongrel inched closer, the corners of his lips turned up.

Extending an open palm, he waved his fingers. “It’s alright, little one, I won’t bite.”

His hushed coaxing worked well - a bit too well. Instead of sniffing his palm, the beast shot forward and cheerfully nuzzled his bare crotch and dangling package. As he peeked downward and past the hound’s wagging, spade-tipped tail, one of his questions was answered.

He shuffled back and tenderly took her face in his hands. “You’re a naughty girl ~ aren’t you?”

‘Would you expect anything less, master?’

Shaking his head and sailing back, he balked. The voice he’d just heard had been clear as day, easily recognizable, and spoken directly into his mind, yet the suddenness of it, paired with whom had spoken it, alarmed him to no end. Staring into the bitch’s golden, goat-like eyes, he sneered.

‘What’s wrong, master?’ Sahira asked without moving her elongated, toothy jaw. ‘You struck me as one who enjoys dogs over cats, so I -’

“Sahira, as endearing as this little performance is, I haven’t the time or the patience for it,” he clucked.

She hung her head and turned her eyes to the earth. ‘I…I thought it would be a fitting way for me to concede…’

“Well I - what?” he coughed.

Concede? What in the world was she on about? He had given her the rutting of a lifetime, fucking her so hard that any ordinary mortal would have been hospitalized or perished outright, yet for her to capitulate so quickly, and in such a peculiar fashion, was baffling. Collecting himself as quickly as he could, lest his surprise be used against him, he got up and brushed himself off.

“And what led you to that conclusion?” he softly demanded.

‘You’ve wanted to make me your pet for some time ~ no?’ she countered. Trotting away from him, she lazily spun in a circle to display herself. ‘Am I to your liking?’

Her movements were graceful to a fault, the sheen on her short, downy fur was impeccable, and her diminutive size, with her head only barely reaching his knees, made him feel even larger and stronger than he usually did in her presence. Hellhounds were fascinating creatures, lent from the abyss to serve only the most skilled or reckless conjurers, and they weren’t much larger than the garden-variety, mortal canine. Momentarily distracted by a glimpse of her engorged, glistening sex, he snorted.

Following his gaze, she craned her neck and peeked back at her svelte, toned tush. ‘It felt fitting…’

He waved a hand before folding his arms over his chest. “That being?”

‘Being in heat, master. Serving you as your thrall simply wouldn’t be enough, so I took it upon myself to suffer further,’ she explained with an audible whimper.‘A stud of your caliber would never dream of sating the desires of some wanton, lustful animal, although perhaps, if I’m a good girl and prove my fealty, you’d deign me worthy as breeding stock for puppies - after all, it could be quite a lucrative venture for you…’

“And I’m to think that this isn’t some elaborate, wildly eccentric trap ~ hmm?” he pressed. Stepping forward, he knelt down and caressed her cheek. “You’re better than this, Sahira, we both know that.”

‘Knew that,’ she corrected. ‘Master, I was in a pitiful state after our last exchange. My legs barely worked, I had to drag myself around my hut for the better part of a day, and your seed still lingers in my womb. I freely recognize that I was wrong, that you are indeed the superior shaman, and I would be happy - no, honored to be your bitch.’

To hammer her point home, she bowed and touched her chin to the ground. Her supposed deference was artfully presented, and her form was immaculate, but he wasn’t buying it for one second. There had to be some catch, some way that she was going to trick him with her…

“You can’t speak…” he murmured.

‘Not in a conventional sense,’ she sighed. ‘Apropos…’

While she yapped, barked, and made a myriad of animalistic noises, he snickered then burst into laughter. The absolute idiot had given herself an unimaginable disadvantage - several disadvantages. Aside from her relatively dainty size, being so small that he could snap her neck with ease, she’d lost the use of her vocal cords and scathing tongue.

Straightening up, he pinched the bridge of his snout. “You know, as unfathomable as this is to say, I’m inclined to believe you.”

‘Many thanks, master, but save your gratitude until I’m finished,’ she hummed. Sauntering over to a shrub beneath his living room window, she retrieved a gift basket. ‘Every pet owner should be properly prepared - bearing that in mind, and because you weren’t expecting me, I took matters into my own hands - er - paws.’

He eyed the present from afar, curious but hesitant to peek within. “Poison gas? No, that’s not your style. Explosives?”

Giving him a curtsey, she touched a forepaw to the basket. ‘Nothing of the sort! Shall I open it for you?’

“Please do,” he responded with a wave of his hand.

When dealing with Sahira, heedless of what form she took, he’d learned that an abundance of caution was always well warranted. To his abject shock, and amusing him to no end, she pulled a harness, collar, and lead from the basket, carried them over to him, and laid them at his feet. There’d been perilously few times in his life when he left at a loss for words, but he’d be damned if this wasn’t one of them.

‘Master?’ she faintly inquired while peering up at him.

Unable to keep himself from beaming, he cocked his head. “Yes?”

‘I hate to ask, but would you do the honors?’ she continued as she lifted her head and closed her eyes.

He sank to one knee, picked up her collar, and chuckled. She’d put a lot of thought and effort into this, that was for certain. The choker she’d purchased, being the same vibrant pink as the rest of her attire, had a golden badge with her name on one side and his name and contact information on the reverse.

As he fastened the collar around her neck, it became difficult to doubt her. Her use of hexes was gone, she posed no physical threat whatsoever, and she’d even procured a tag denoting that she was, for all intents and purposes, his property. While it was jarring to consider, the facts spoke for themselves - she’d admitted defeat.

“Give me your paw,” he instructed.

Obeying him without question, she obediently allowed him to fit the harness around her torso. The only problem he could foresee, apart from having to go out and purchase some food for her, was that he didn’t know what to do. He’d won, she’d lost, and their little game was at an end.

Leaning over to clip the lead to her collar, he slowed when something nestled at the bottom of the basket caught his eye. “What’s that?”

‘I nearly forgot!’ she chirped. ‘I thought you might like the opportunity to show off your prized pet, master.’

Extending an arm and retrieving a piece of paper from the basket, he pursed his lips. The canine accessories were a fine and necessary touch, although the flier she’d brought him was just gilding the lily. Evidently, there was a dog show being held in Manehattan which just so happened to be starting that very morning.

“This can’t be a coincidence,” he mumbled while casting an inquisitorial eye upon her.

‘Guilty,’ she tittered. ‘Were it not for hearing about that little event, I wouldn’t have had the inspiration to yield myself to you in such an appropriate way.’

As he looked back at the flier, a moment of pure genius came to him. The dog show would be the perfect way to test her. Rising up and turning, he marched back into his home and nearly dragged her along with him.

“We’re going to that event, and you’re going to at least place in the top five,” he announced.

‘I - uh…’ she wavered, her voice wracked with unease. ‘Is…is that wise?’

Leading her into his room, he released her leash and crossed to his dresser. “Wise or not, it’s going to happen.”

According to the leaflet, there wasn’t much time to spare. With less than an hour before the show was set to begin, he was going to have to get dressed, transport the two of them to Manehattan, and register her quickly. After donning some underwear, a pair of pants, and socks, he turned to his closet and froze.

“What are you doing?”

Wantonly sniffing his bed, specifically the approximate area his crotch tended to rest on, she stood with her rear leveled at him. ‘It smells so, so much better with his new nose…’

He wanted to admonish or belittle her, yet the sight of her nethers upended his thoughts in their entirety. The dark, slickened flesh of her pussy was engorged and pulsing in tune with her heartbeat, while her sextet of nipples were spectacularly erect. Disgust at her lecherous actions welled within him, though it was tainted by ~ what? Amusement? Fascination? Shaking his head, he stomped to his closet and fetched a shirt.

Sahira turned her head, watched him disappear into his wardrobe, then immediately flopped to her side and cocked a hind leg. Being informed that she would be brought to the dog show to perform hadn’t been in her plans, but she was elated that he wanted to show her off. Lowering her head, she lapped at her snatch.

“I can hear you in here,” he shouted.

‘I can’t help it, master,’ she thought back at him. ‘This is as close as I’ll ever get to ever feeling your sensual touch…’

Cracking one eye, she peeked over and found him watching her from the threshold. The look of disdain on his face was made all the more hilarious by a more telling part of him. Hidden away within his slacks, his stallionhood twitched and swelled ever so slightly.

“If you don’t disappoint me, I may - may be generous enough to get you a sex-toy of some sort so you can sate yourself,” he huffed, seating himself beside her while he put on his dress shoes.

‘As an alternative, you can always find a hellhound stud for me,’ she flippantly remarked as she continued licking her cunt. ‘Just know that I’d be thinking of you when I’m knotted and bred with a litter of pups.’

His lip curled and his nostrils flared. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Though you may be beneath me in every conceivable way, especially now, you and your womb are mine to do with as I so choose ~ am I clear?”

‘Crystal,’ she purred. Hopping up and pouncing on him, she tackled him onto his back and began licking his face. ‘I’m so fortunate to have a stern master. Whatever would I do without you?’

Staving her off, he pushed her away and drew a hand over his saliva and nectar-streaked face. “As you are currently, either in a pound or being sold off to some pony.”

‘Then I’m even more grateful,’ she gleefully responded. Wriggling her head under his forearm, she shot her tongue into his muzzle.

The impromptu kiss, laced with her juices, crossed a line. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he lifted her from off himself, sat up, and placed her on the floor. A bit of affection between somepony and their pet was expected, although there were limits to what anypony could or would tolerate.

‘My apologies,’ she whined as she fidgeted and pinned her tail. ‘Between these alien instincts and this insufferable heat, I’m not feeling like myself…’

“Well you had best get ahold of them, because that is not going to happen again,” he harrumphed. Getting up and closing one hand around a talisman hanging around his neck, he took up her lead and stepped to her side. “And don’t get too friendly with the other dogs.”

‘No promises,’ she giggled.

The transition from being in Shaka’s room to standing in the parking lot of a convention center was instantaneous and a bit less pleasant than her preferred means of teleportation. Steadying herself and taking a second for her equilibrium to adjust, she surveyed her surroundings. Though they’d only just arrived, the smell of ponies and canines wafted to her sensitive nostrils.

“Come,” he commanded while lightly tugging her lead.

Strutting at his side, she put a swing in her hips. It had been ages since she’d adopted a quadrupedal form, but it was like many things in life - once you’ve gotten enough practice with it, it comes naturally. She slipped furtive glances to his groin while she walked and wondered if he truly was above becoming amorous with a mere beast.

“I - yes, hello,” Shaka began as he approached a staff member lingering by the expansive structure’s main entryway. “I was wondering if…”

Ignoring him, she peeked through the plate glass separating them from what looked to be hundreds of ponies. Most of those gathered were attendees, those with a fondness for canines, although she could spot a few of her impending competitors. With her exotic breed, keen intellect, and sheer elegance, it would be impossible for her to lose against a bunch of dim-witted animals - still, she was looking forward to what would most definitely be a day to remember for everypony.

“Thank you so much,” Shaka concluded. Shifting his focus down to her, while holding some paperwork in his free hand, he grinned. “Ready to show all those pups up, Sahira?”

‘They won’t know what hit them,’ she conceitedly mentally breathed.

Her mother had once told her that it would be a cold day in the hells when she was forthright with anypony, and she could all but sense a chill air rushing through the infernal abyss. She hadn’t lied a single time that morning, although she may have twisted the truth just a shade. The experience of being rutted by a genuine, ancient stallion had been transcendent, vying for a top place amongst all the passionate encounters she’d ever had, and there would be no way for her to repay Shaka for that - not truly.

Trotting down a hallway and up to a guard, Shaka displayed the papers in his clutches. “Begging your pardon, but is the contestants’ area this way?”

The pony, a pegasus mare, nodded and pointed further down the corridor. “Big, open door on your left - you can’t miss it.”

Turning her head as she walked, Sahira looked back at the mare. ‘You think it’s true about them ~ you know, that pony mares…?’

“Ah yes, that persistent rumor,” Shaka muttered, keeping his voice just loud enough for her to hear him. “From what I’ve gathered, it’s largely slander. Pony mares are as or even more exacting with their preferences than our kind - excluding yourself, of course.”

‘Well that’s disappointing,’ she groused. ‘It’s my firm opinion that every mare should be open to new experiences, and I can attest that canines giving yourself to a canine can be quite stimulating.’

He stumbled and nearly tripped over her own feet as she spoke. “You jest - please tell me you jest.”

‘And why would I?’ she smoothly pressed. ‘If you say you haven’t at least thought of broadening your horizons in an erotic sense, I’d call you a liar.’

His revulsion was palpable. “I haven’t and I’m not lying. I’ve sampled all manner of sensual delights, but only with creatures that are at least somewhat close to my level of intellect.”

‘Heh,’ she grunted. ‘So how does you turning yourself into a feral stallion factor into that equation ~ hmm?’

“You are and, so far as I can tell, always were an animal; the only difference now is that your form mirrors the twisted creature lurking beneath your skin, mongrel,’ he quietly snarled. Lifting his head and looking to an open set of double doors some short distance away, he gave a small yank to her leash. “Be a good girl and be quiet.”

She meekly nodded and kept her lips sealed. The wondrous, magnificent dullard was so daft that he’d either forgotten or neglected one crucial detail - she couldn’t speak. Anypony who saw him yammering on to her would think he’s stark raving mad, holding a one-sided conversation with a dog, and she had every intention of exploiting that to its fullest potential.

Slowing as she peered into a cavernous, open room full of ponies and a wide array of different dogs, she wagged her tail. ‘Master, may I mingle a bit?’

“Absolutely not,” he harrumphed. “You will stay at my side and behave yourself. An animal’s conduct reflects its owner - accordingly, I’ll not have you making me look bad.”

She reared her head back and held a forepaw to her bosom. ‘I would never do such a thing, master! Just you watch, all these ponies will be smitten with your loyal, well-trained, gorgeous bitch.’

Nodding, Shaka continued onward and toward a refreshment table. He’d only been half-serious about her winning any sort of prize at the show, being keenly aware of how exacting Equestrian standards were when it came to dog breeds, but he would not tolerate any misconduct on her part. As he peeked down at her, his eyes were drawn to her gently swaying hips and long, slender legs.

“Watch it,” a stallion carped as he nearly bumped into him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

Forcing himself to look ahead and away from the infernal hound tailing him, he quietly growled. What was going on with him? He could forgive himself for being slightly inattentive, given the early hour, the whirlwind of his morning, and spontaneously flinging himself and his newfound dog into a competition, but running into somepony in a crowded room was an unparalleled level of absentmindedness. He halted and massaged one temple while gathering his thoughts.

‘Well hello there, handsome…’ she cooed from behind him.

Whipping around, assuming she was speaking to his flawlessly toned glutes, he was dismayed to discover that she was talking to a large, muscular doberman pinscher. The dog wasn’t quite as big as she was, although its brawny physique, brushed coat, and pointed ears gave it a commanding presence. Preventing himself from chastising her, he noticed what part of the canine held her attention.

Listing to one side, she licked her chops while ogling the crimson length peeking from the doberman’s sheath. ‘I see you have fine tastes, Jager,’ she casually noted. After a moment, she gasped. ‘Goodness - so forward! Well, since you asked nicely…’

Shaka’s blood ran hot as she wheeled around, spread her hind legs, and invitingly wiggled her rump. Whore - shameless, debased slut. They’d been at the venue for just a handful of minutes, and he’d only just learned that she was so irredeemable that she’d let herself be fucked by actual dogs while in her marish form, yet she was showing herself off like a desperate nymphomaniac for some mongrel she’d only just met.

“No,” he rumbled. Hauling on her lead and drawing her to his feet, he smiled up at the doberman’s owner. “You’ll have to excuse her, she’s just friendly.”

‘And with a womb yearning to be used,’ she added. ‘Oh Jager, you tease! Of course I’d be willing to have an accident and let you mount me on the showroom floor! I can’t speak for you, but it’s so much hotter when I know I’m being watched…’

“Will you not shut up?!” Shaka raged.

Pulling her leash so hard that she yelped and was thrown off balance, he stopped dead. A deathly silence fell over the room, everypony was looking at him, and he’d just made himself out to be a poor, if not outright abusive owner. Warily smiling, he knelt down and pulled her to his chest while stroking her back.

“She’s quite a handful when she’s in heat,” he uneasily laughed. “Aren’t you? Aren’t you, you scamp?”

‘I know I am,’ she admitted. Shifting and burying her snout in his groin, she sniffed and wagged her tail. ‘If only there was something you could do to keep these distracting thoughts out of this dumb, lustful brain of mine, master…”

She could communicate with animals as well as Shaka could, meaning she couldn’t without spellcraft, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t pretend to have the ability. The way he’d snapped at her, making a wholly uncalled for scene, smacked of something more than irritation. He wouldn’t say it, and he’d surely try to hide it, but she’d wager her plan was already paying off.

Shaka tussled her ears and smiled warmly, until the contestants and their dogs went back to what they were doing before his small outburst. “Unless you want me to make your life exponentially more difficult, you’ll remain quiet until this is over,” he whispered. Staying mute in every sense of the word, she nodded. “Good - now then, the competition is split into three categories: an obstacle course, an inspection by the judges, and a freestyle component. Do as you're told, don’t talk back, and we’ll be sure to win.”

She nodded again and slowly wagged her tail while he walked to and seated himself in a chair by one wall. While the notion of beating her legitimately sickened him, holding those who abuse animals in contempt, he would find creative ways to, if need be, punish her in the future. As he closed his eyes and settled in, waiting for their names to be called, the sounds of the crowded arena drifted to his ears.

With nothing to do but bide his time, his imagination wandered. The taste of Sahira’s sex, piquant and tart, still lingered on his palate, while the scent of her arousal clung to his sinuses. He’d never viewed canines as anything more than beloved, trusted companions, and he most certainly hadn’t thought of them in a carnal way, but there was something about his bitch that was vulgar in the most titillating.

Surreptitiously peeking down at her, his eyes meandered over her body. She was normally quite tight, her marehood snug and vice-like, and her velvety depths caressed his stallionhood in an incredible way. Considering she’d lost half or more of her mass, and that canines had a body temperature several degrees higher than that of ponies, it was entirely possible that pinning her down and fucking her raw would be as good or better than…

Drawing his hands over his face, he dragged his mind from the obscene, compelling morass it had been sinking into. What was wrong with him? Sahira may have been willing to degrade herself by letting anything with a dick plow her, but he had standards - moreover, he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction she so dearly pined for. He swallowed hard, having caught himself subconsciously sneaking a glance to her backside, and felt his stallionhood harden.

“Shaka and - um - Sahira?” a voice called out from the far end of the room.

“Coming,” Shaka shouted back. “Let’s show everypony what you got, dear.”

Skipping up to his side, she kept pace. ‘Like I need reminding…’

He followed the employee down a short, unremarkable passageway and into the showroom proper. While the building wasn’t as large as a colosseum or sports stadium, the spacious floor was lined with collapsible bleachers, chairs, and dozens upon dozens of spectators. Briefly inspecting the obstacles, things so simple that a foal could do them, he chuckled.

“And you understand the rules?” the pony attendant asked.

“Of course,” he sighed. “And so does she,” he added, nodding down at Sahira.

Setting her furry brow, she kept her eyes forward. ‘Run through them in ascending order, return to you, and sit ~ right?’

“Right,” he affirmed. “Go on his mark, dearest.”

The moment the pony waved his hand, appearing confused that Shaka wouldn’t lead her through the course, Sahira took off like a bullet. Her agility and speed were jaw-dropping, being both faster and leagues more nimble than any common hound, and she finished the entire course in just over a minute. With their mouths agape, the trio of judges gawked as she looked over at them and winked.

Turning to the three dumbfounded ponies, Shaka smirked. “Would you like to conduct the examination now?”

The judges pulled themselves together, jotted Sahira’s time down on the clipboards they carried, and walked over to him. With the race concluded, and with her time rocketing to the top of the leaderboard overhead, her evaluation was next. Hellhounds, much like every other breed of canine, were expected to have certain key characteristics, and points would be assigned to her from those characteristics.

“Head up, shoulders back,” Shaka told her, being somewhat familiar with the process.

She did as she was told, standing statuesque while the judges poked, prodded, and touched her. While he wasn’t concerned about how high her score would be, never having seen a hellhound so flawless in his life, he grew increasingly perturbed with how she was being touched. The trio of ponies smiled and murmured conspiratorially to one another, as their fingers and hands glided over her frame.

‘M…master,’ she stammered, ‘o…one of them is…’

He knew what she’d been about to tell him, as he’d watched the judge fondle her loins with his bare, unworthy hand. There was no reason for him to be upset, especially because the pony had done the very same exam on countless other dogs at countless other shows, yet what began as mild displeasure blossomed into overt anger.

How dare this pony lay a finger on her? She was his bitch, his property, and nopony, especially some wretched Equestrian, had a right to touch her but him! Clenching and unclenching his fists, he readied a hex of suffering to unleash on the trio of disgraceful judges who…

“I…I don’t know what to say,” one of the ponies breathed. Turning to Shaka, he extended a hand. “Sir, she is without fault.”

“Agreed,” the other two judges concurred in nearly perfect unison.

Still fuming, Shaka reigned himself in. “Thank you. May we start the final act?”

The ponies nodded and shuffled back to give him plenty of space to work with. He wanted nothing more than to be done with the competition and retire for the rest of the day with his hound, but he wasn’t about to leave without claiming his trophy and any winnings. Shying away from Sahira, he waved a hand to the open floor.

“Have fun,” he grunted.

‘Gladly,’ she confidently hummed.

He’d predicted her presentation would be fairly blasé, likely her traipsing about in a circle or howling some melody, although she instantly blew his every single onlookers’ expectations out of the water. Instead of something charming or heartwarming, she proceeded to put on a show that would have given most strippers a run for their money. Never in a million years would he have guessed that a canine would gyrate and move in such a provocative, sinful way, yet her body flowed like water poured from the cup of Venus herself.

Lowering herself into a full split, she rolled onto her back and pawed at her teats. ‘Take me…’

He took a step toward her, went rigid, and forced himself to remain still. It dawned on him that he’d been right all along, that she’d lulled him into a false sense of security with her charm and wiles, yet his fury was crushed beneath the growing, unstoppable weight of his desires. Preventing himself from pouncing on her, he grimaced and quaked with impotent indignation.

‘Take me,’ she smoothly repeated, ‘or one of them will.’

Following her gaze, Shaka spotted several stallions who’d gotten up from their seats. Each of the ponies was sporting wood, their erections straining against their pants or shorts, and every single one of them was drooling at Sahira. Realizing that he couldn’t stop all of them, and that she’d gleefully let any one of the studs screw her, he snapped.

With a flex of his groin, his stallionhood tore its way from his trousers and into the air. Had he the faintest inkling that this was what she’d do, artfully seducing him and twisting him to her will, he would have given her a swift kick in the ass and been done with her - sadly, he’d passed the point of no return. As he grabbed her by one horn and pulled her to face his turgid cock, the crowd gasped.

“She’s mine,” he seethed.

He locked eyes with her while he fell to his knees and drove his length into her muzzle. Fuck these ponies, fuck the stupid show, and fuck her in particular. The crafty bitch had intended for this to happen, weaving whatever dark spell she had on him to erode his sensibilities, and he was going to make her pay for it. Using her horns for handlebars, he hilted her snout and fucked her at full, unrelenting force.

Sahira had taken every precaution imaginable for this moment, altering her biology to survive without air for an extended period of time while also making every tissue within her remarkably rubbery, though the sheer vehemence with which he rutted her face was so harsh that pushed her preparations to their limit. With her brain rattling around in her skull, she sputtered and sent ropes of spittle from past her lips. Everything had played out magnificently, better than she could have ever dreamed, and things were only just getting started.

The best part about her ploy was that she hadn’t had to do anything to get what she wanted. Hellhounds, as with all demonic entities, were manifestations of the various cardinal sins, and it wasn’t by chance that she’d pulled a few strings to temporarily become one of lust. Simply being near Shaka had been enough to chip away at his resolve - add to that his insufferable hubris and need to conquer her, and the deal was sold as soon as he’d rubbed her cute little head.

As she weathered an orgasm and gushed nectar to the floor, her legs collapsed beneath her. She’d taken a few liberties with her metamorphosis, making her gullet as sensitive as the depths of her cunt, but that wasn’t what got her off. Shaka’s reputation, what little there was of it, would soon be ruined, and he would live out the rest of his short, meaningless life bearing the label as a reprobate and hopeless degenerate.

“Fucking whore,” Shaka boomed. “I’ll show all these ponies that you’re my bitch!”

His resentment elevated his bliss by an unprecedented degree. Plowing her as hard as he could was cathartic, in spite of her lack of struggling, and the sensations she afforded were beyond compare. Neither too snug nor too loose, and hotter than the pits of the abyss, her quaking gullet fueled his desires and saw him yearning for more. Pulling her to himself, he slammed her nose against his crotch.

He was beyond hope, any chance of salvation was gone, and he’d deal with the inevitable consequences of his actions later - for now, he was going to screw the harridan hound until she’d blacked out. Wrenching his dick free, he spun her around, took her hind legs in his hands, and simultaneously thrust his hips while hauling her to himself.

In the blink of an eye, every inch of his shaft was entombed in her spasming cunt. Railing her without a shred of remorse, he looked over and waved a hand. A number of guards had been thoughtless enough to approach him, likely in an attempt to end his shameless, exhibitionistic display, although they dropped to the floor like flies. He would stop when he wanted to stop, and not beforehand.

Sahira’s bestial howls rang out over the murmurs of disgust and whispers from the throng. Like wheat from the chaff, most of the ponies in attendance had left, too revolted to stay, leaving only the most perverted souls to witness the debauchery. Shaka would deal with the onlookers in due time, using his magic to wipe any memory of the event from their minds, although it was a shame that they wouldn’t be able to enjoy such a riveting experience for long.

It was of little consequence how Sahira had tempted him, because her balmy pussy and whimpers of ecstasy erased any thought of it from him. His mind was all but gone, rendered down to raw feelings and the insatiable need to breed his bitch, and it brought him to a swift, inglorious, merciless end. After no more than a few minutes, making him appear like a two-pump chump, he bellowed and came.

Thick jizz spurted from her convulsing depths, slathering his torn pants and thighs with a cocktail of her juices and his essence, while he heaved air into his chest. For as full as she was, so bloated with spunk that she looked pregnant, and with as many times as she’d cum herself, she should have been unable to move, yet she sprang to her feet, smiled over her shoulder at him, and dashed for the nearest exit once his orgasm had started to subside.

Though he dearly wished to be upset, the euphoric daze that settled over him was too powerful. His clothes were in tatters, he was drenched from the waist down in seed and her canine fluids, and he couldn’t think clearly, yet he weakly smiled. He’d get the bitch back, that was a certainty, although when and how his retribution would be delivered would have to wait until he’d cleaned himself up and addressed the larger issues at hand…

Chapter 6

Willing herself to remain motionless, Sahira cracked open an eye and peered out on the world. She’d slept wondrously, drifting off in the warm, safe confines of her hut after a day of self-indulgent rest and relaxation, although what should have been a contented morning afterwards was anything but. As she gazed across the cold, unyielding earth beneath her and over to a row of steel doors, her mind went to work.

The first thing she noticed was that she was on the ground, feeling dirt and grit against her bare body - the second was the smell. The stink of unwashed mongrels was overpowering, so potent that it dominated her sense of smell, and she could hear a number of the beasts nearby. It appeared as though she’d been kidnapped and brought to a kennel of some sort, yet how she got there and where there was were both mysteries.

She remained still several minutes, lying in wait for any would-be aggressors to make themselves known, before eventually springing to her feet and whipping around in a circle. While she’d seen no sign of him, she felt confident that there was a very specific bastard who’s whisked her away from her home - Shaka. Making a fist and swearing vengeance, she spit contemptuously.

There had been a considerable number of creatures who’d sworn harm upon her over the years, but none were as detestable as Shaka. Try as she might to humble him, reminding him time and again that she was not to be trifled with, he’d insisted on prolonging their little dance. She’d initially assumed that he was some sort of twisted sycophant who was so deluded by his hauteur that he’d convinced himself that he could win her over with his paltry tricks, although that was becoming harder and harder to believe.

The bitter truth of the matter, laughable though it was, was that he genuinely seemed to think he could beat her. Nopony, be they a zebra or otherwise, could ever defeat her - she’d know, she’d bested every adversary who’d ever been foolish enough to stand against her. He, like all the rest, would ultimately regret his transgressions against her - even if she was forced to resort to less savory means to do it.

“Am I to stand here all day, or are you going to reveal yourself and your scheme, my love?” she called out, turning and holding her arms wide.

Several canines barked in response, yapping incessantly from her voice, yet Shaka, if he truly was the culprit behind her abduction, remained unseen and unheard. Stymied, she wrinkled her nose and crossed to one of the large, steel doors. Within the small room was, to her amusement, a large, slavering, and muscular hellhound.

She checked every cell, all six of them, and discovered that they all held an abyssal canine of some variety - that was, until she reached the last. Instead of an infernal mongrel, the final pen contained a cerberus. Hellhounds were rare creatures, so scarce that one could live their entire life without seeing one in person, although the three-headed sort were nigh unheard of outside of eccentric collectors, ponies who had more bits than common sense, and spellshapers who valued prestige over their own lives.

She couldn’t see the creature especially well, only making out its silhouette in the dim light of its confines, yet her curiosity was immediately piqued.

Sticking her hand through the steel bars, merely wishing to introduce herself, she recoiled when the beast snapped at her. “Ìgbọràn, aja…”

Her words rang hollow, lacking no more power than her lungs afforded, and she scowled. She made no second attempt to make the command, understanding in an instant that something was amiss. While she closed her eyes and concentrated, try to discern precisely why her ability of suggestion had failed spectacularly, her thoughts darkened.

Running a hand down her chest and over her abdomen, she brought her fingertips to her groin. It was faint, the sort of thing any ordinary shaman would have missed, but an arcane seal had been placed just above her marehood. So far as she could tell, leaning on her instincts and a reasonable deduction, her talents had been locked away behind an enchantment.

She threw her hands up and spun in place. “Is this really what we’re doing today? I’m disappointed in you Shaka. Did our last soiree inspire this?”

Again, she received no reply from her captor. There was a bit of irony to the situation, waking up in the company of several hellhounds and a lone cerberus, although the novelty was lost on her. Unless she got her powers back quickly, a direct confrontation with Shaka would be disastrous. Marching to the far end of the structure, she tried the exit and found it locked.

Wonderful - she was stuck in a kennel with a bunch of infernal dogs. The few windows within the building were too high for her to reach, there was only one door that led out of the sprawling chamber, and there didn’t appear to be anything she could use to escape. Glancing over at a desk and chair, the only two pieces of furniture within the place, she pursed her lips.

She’d missed it earlier, too indisposed with other matters, but there was what looked to be a note sitting on the work table. Whoever had brought her to this place, be it Shaka or some other imbecile, surely had something in store for her - to do otherwise was utterly nonsensical. One didn’t kidnap one of the most powerful shamans in existence merely to act as a dog sitter!

Crossing to the desk, she snatched up the piece of paper and started to read.

My dearest Sahira

As you’ve undoubtedly grasped at this point, I’ve taken the liberty to muzzle your skills for the foreseeable future - that is, unless you’re willing to indulge in a small game. One of the hounds you’re stowed away with holds the key to your release, a sigil on its not that, once locked within that delightfully taut little cunt, will unlock your magic. All you have to do is sate the aforementioned mongrel, and you’ll be allowed to leave.

While I would have loved to bear witness to you being tied to those lovable little beasties, I’m afraid I have matters that demand my undivided attention. Do try to enjoy yourself, give your newfound friends lots of affection, and don’t make too much of a mess. I’ll see you soon, my sweet.

Warmest regards,

She crumpled the piece of paper in her fist and spat. That son of a bitch - he’d trapped her here, robbed her of her skills, and expected her to give her body to literal animals! Were she not as shameless and depraved as she was, she would have been thoroughly dismayed - still, the fact that he wasn’t even going to watch her get knotted by the hounds in question was frankly offensive.

“Imbecile,” she hissed. Glancing over and to a light switch on the wall, she sighed. “May as well see what we’re working with.”

Once she’d rummaged about in the desk and found a set of keys, none of which fitting the locked door leading to freedom, she turned on the lights. None of the enclosures had been particularly well lit, only illuminated by the light spilling in from the corridor running the length of the building, so she hadn’t been able to fully appreciate her impending lovers beforehand. As she traipsed down the aisle and took stock of the various creatures, admiring their looks and savage expressions, her eyes were continually drawn to the last cell.

She slowed and smiled as she peered in at the cerberus. The monster was huge, nearly standing at eye level with her, and it held her gaze without shying away. A beast of its size had to be packing some serious heat, with a knot that could keep her tied to it for easily the better part of an hour, but that was the problem - it was too obvious.

It was so plainly evident that Shaka wished for her to unleash the cerberus, wanting her to think that the largest mongrel would be the one with the sigil on its dick, that it couldn’t be the solution to her conundrum. Smirking and shaking her head, she quietly snickered to herself. The predicament she was in wouldn’t be solved easily, and she was begrudgingly entertained that she he’d gone to such lengths to torment her.

Stewing on the mattress at hand, she thoughtfully tapped a foot. If the cerberus wasn’t the answer, one of the other canines was, yet that didn’t help narrow things down. There were five of the other beasts cooped up with her, each separated by cinder blocks and an iron gate, and it wasn’t like she could ask which of them could liberate her.

Easing himself down to his haunches, Shaka peered through the door at Sahira. He’d pondered long and hard on how to repay her for her last stunt, and he was inordinately pleased with the creative conclusion he’d come to. Since she’d confessed to having fortunated with lesser creatures, and because she’d effectively enticed him into an act of exhibitionistic bestiality, it was only right that he arrange a little test for her.

He panted and whined as he cocked one head and scratched behind an ear. While transforming himself into a primitive stallion had been an interesting experience to say the least, it had been far from ideal. A primal brain, unevolved and simple, just wasn’t capable of housing his monumental intellect, but a trio of lesser brains, one in each of his three heads, had the combined power to retain his intelligence - well, mostly.

Unlike his grand metamorphosis into a savage stud, he’d taken every necessary precaution to ensure becoming a cerberus would work. Each metamorphic trial had lasted longer than the last, going for as long as a full day and a night, until he was satisfied that he wouldn’t go fully feral. He could confidently say that he was and would remain himself, if only in mind, although he did have to contend with wild urges to howl or chase squirrels.

Lowering his hind leg, he dipped a head and peeked down at his nethers. Simply watching her and enjoying the spectacle that would unfold shortly would be thrilling, but he wasn’t just going to spectate. When the time was right, regardless of whether or not she set him loose, he had a not-so-little surprise in store for her - several, in fact.

“Fuck it…”

He lifted his heads and trotted to the door, drawn by the exasperated grunt from just outside. Had she come to a decision so quickly ~ if so, which hound would be the first to pump a load indo her? Was she going to bark and shake her ass for her partners? How did a mare tempt an animal into rutting her? Curious as to how she would deal with her litany of issues, he poked a snout from between the bars.

She may not have known it, but he’d had to pull a great many strings to arrange her quandary. Drugging her and carting her to the kennel had been relatively easy - paying off the employees and stocking the place with a quintet of hellhounds, less so. He’d initially considered borrowing several of the infernal creatures from their respective owners, yet his fondness for the creatures, and knowing the heartbreak he’d cause by absconding with somepony’s beloved pet, had led him to take a much more difficult route.

One simply didn’t acquire beasts from the abyss without payment, and the price he’d paid for the temporary services of a handful of the creatures had been steep. While only a week had passed since the unfortunate events of the dog show, he’d spent months tending to a particularly congenial and demon to get what he wanted. Tossing a pair of his heads from side to side, he railed against the unfortunate memories from the past few days.

He wasn’t opposed to indulging with stallions, although Gilded, the fiend who’d lended him aid, was a blessing and a curse. He was absolutely sure that the demon wished to claim him as a prize, a big, striped adonis for his collection of mortal playthings, but that was a risk he was willing to take. Contracts with the abyss, dealings with devils, profane agreements - he’d done them all, and he was certain he’d do them again before slipping from his mortal coil.

“Not you,” Sahira tutted, rapping a key against his door, “you get cucked.”

Snapping back to the present, he bared his teeth and menacingly growled. The buffoon didn’t know that his cell was unlocked, needing no more than a hard push for the door to open, but she’d figure that out soon enough. His smile faded when she stepped back and began rubbing her snatch. He’d anticipated that she would start with the largest mongrel, excluding himself, but she’d taken a far more unorthodox, reckless approach.

Every single one of the hounds was loose, running about or circling her with their tails wagging, while she traipsed to the middle of the broad hallway. As irredeemable as she was, she wasn’t so reprehensible as to offer herself up for a gang bang ~ was she? He was honestly unsure if disgust with her outweighed his admiration for her - in any case, as she sank to her knees and began petting the beasts, he felt himself getting hard.

“Who’s a good boy? That’s right, you are! You’re such a good boy!” she merrily exclaimed while hugging and rocking a hellhound back and forth. Pulling away slightly, she smirked down at its loins. “And you’re a big boy too ~ aren’t you?”

Having rubbed her marehood, she brought her palm to the mongrel’s snout. He wasn’t sure what was worse, that she seemed to be wholly undisturbed by what she was doing, appearing quite gleeful, or that this definitely wasn’t the first time she’d sought to arouse an animal. Snarling and going to see himself out, intent on marching over and claiming her for himself, he paused.

His anger was getting the best of him, but he wouldn’t let it ruin his plans for her. He was going to sit tight and do nothing as she was ravaged by the beasts, no matter what happened. Without the use of her fell sorcery, managing even one of the pups would be onerous for her, and she had a whopping five to go through before he had his fun with her.

Moving her slickened hand to another hound’s nose, she giggled. “Are you a big boy too?” she cheerfully inquired. Listing to one side, she peeked under the beast. “Yes - yes you absolutely are. Such gifted pups I’ve been given - why, I may just keep all of you!”

Shooting a glance over to the closed cell and the beast within, she smirked. She may be mistaken, but she had an inkling that the three-headed monster was a very certain somepony. The cerberus’ coloration, being slate grey with white markings over its faces, wasn’t natural for one of its kind - furthermore, its green eyes were telling. If Shaka hadn’t crafted and was controlling the creature, using it like a puppet, it was him in a huge, shaggy disguise.

“C’mere,” she urged, rolling to her back. “Show mama some love now - hey, no pushing! You’ll all get your turn!”

She motioned for the hounds to come nearer, uncaring of which would get first dibs. Without having something to prop up her lower half, it would be nearly impossible for her to get fucked in a missionary position - be that as it may, with as long as it had been since she’d gotten frisky with a fido of any kind, she couldn’t help but indulge herself to a small extent. Grabbing one of the mongrel’s hind legs, she repositioned him squarely over her head.

Ah - canines were such charming creatures. With their furry sheaths, plump balls, and eagerness to hump away at any ass that intentionally or unintentionally presented itself, the beasts were almost the perfect lovers - almost. If hellhounds had better endurance, being able to last more than a few minutes of ruthless fucking at most, she would have taken one as a paramour ages ago.

Lifting her head to the beast’s crotch, she took a deep breath through her nose. A hellhound’s scent was incredible, so potent that it stung her nostrils, and sang a song to the most lecherous parts of her mind. In her youth, when she’d first summoned one of the creatures, she’d learned just how tenacious, infernal canines could be, and she’d grown to love them for it.

Smothering herself in the hound’s nuts, she contentedly hummed. He was the largest of the five, and he deserved a name. As she wriggled from beneath him and looked to the other four mongrels, her lips turned up in a smile.

“Rex,” she began, patting the hound over her head on his side. “Spike, Spot, Champ, aaaaaaand Buster.”

Spike bore a studded collar, Spot had a prominent patch of dark fur on his chest, Champ gave the air of a winner, and Buster had the biggest balls of the crew - making their names easy enough to remember. Now that she had something to call her playmates, the only thing left to do was to get down to business.

Wriggling back beneath Rex, she kissed the protruding tip of his length. “C’mere, big boy…”

She truly was incorrigible, although she’d accepted that a long, long time ago. Licking her way down Rex’s shaft, she sank her tongue into his sheath. The flavors that graced her taste buds were exquisite, a mixture of salty, metallic, and bitter, and they spurred her on like few things could. As she blindly reached to the side and touched one of the hound’s shoulders, likely Spike, her free hand drifted down to her aching marehood.

If it had been Shaka’s intention to punish her in some way, he’d failed spectacularly. Getting plowed by a small pack of hellhounds was a reward, something few would ever dream of, much less experience, and she couldn’t fathom why anypony would think otherwise. Twisting her head to nurse on Rex’s dick, she fingered herself while stroking Spike off.

She’d missed this - oh how she’d missed this. There was something so deliciously naughty about breaking taboos, whether it was with an animal or in some other condemned way, although it did come with a small number of risks. Aside from breaking various laws, things most civilized cultures held dear, partaking in prohibited acts marked her as an exile - fortunately, he wasn’t particularly concerned with either.

Feeling a sniffling snout bump against her loins, she braced her feet and lifted her pelvis. Such a gentleman! One of the beasts wished to sample her marehood before it was left a gaped, cum-leaking mess, and she would happily assist him. As a long, wickedly hot tongue lapped at her cunt, she awkwardly bobbed her head to suck Rex off.

It wasn’t until she pulled back to speak that a somewhat disquieting revelation came to her. While none of the canines were overly huge, their knots, the thick bulbs of flesh that would expand when they climaxed, would prove to be an issue. Ordinarily, she would have cast a spell to make herself a bit more accommodating for her bestial mates, although her inability to utilize her hexes rendered her no better off than a normal, unskilled mare.

She wriggled out from under Rex, wholly undeterred by the circumstances, and rolled to her stomach. Anypony with an ounce of common sense would have been wildly alarmed in her shoes, but the development didn’t bother her in the slightest - on the contrary, it excited her. She’d get to experience the full intensity of being knotted, locked to the beasts while they filled her with their cum, and she was done with playing coy.

“Alright,” she chirped, “who’s first?”

Falling forward and pressing her tits to the earth, she reached back and spanked her upturned tush. She was a prime cut of pony ass for the pack, possibly the first any of them would have ever had, and her display sent them into a frenzy. Snapping and biting at one another, the mongrels nearly fought for the chance to mount her.

Rex, either being smarter or just out of luck, took advantage of his companions bickering within seconds. As a scalding cock glanced off her upper thigh, her grin broadened. She’d hoped he would seize the moment and take her, having a fondness for him from the onset, and he hadn’t disappointed her.

Shaka grimaced from within his cell. The hellhounds had an excuse for their behavior, simply following their instincts, though the same couldn’t be said for Sahira. Like a foal in a candy shop, lacking the smallest bit of hesitation or remorse, she’d served herself up like a feast for the beasts. His irritation was far from undue, given the shameless nature of her conduct, but the reason for his frustration made him all the more aggravated.

He was jealous. That could have been him out there, he could have easily cowed the mongrels into submission to claim her as his prize, yet Rex, or whatever the beast’s true name was, had taken her as his mate. Gnashing his teeth, far more aroused than he had any right to be, he pushed the door open and stepped outside.

While he was unable to communicate with the hellhounds in any meaningful way, lacking the ability to speak either verbally or telepathically, it was still possible for him to make his intentions known. Coming up behind the nearest canine, he lifted a paw to swat at the beast and faltered as a rapturous wail pierced the air. That fucking bitch - she’d only been mounted less than a few minutes prior, yet she was cumming all over Rex’s dick!

He swiped at two of the creatures and sent them reeling, hurling them against a nearby wall with just enough force to let them know he meant business, before moving on to a third. Being smaller, weaker, and vastly less intelligent than himself, the hellhounds swiftly relented and backed away. Only two of the mongrels remained, Rex and the one who was eating Sahira out with, but they didn’t stand a chance against him.

Moments from knocking Rex aside, he slowed to a halt. As he’d suspected, his normally even temperament and healthy libido had been amplified by his current, bestial state, nearly driving him to violence against an innocent animal, but he could - would control himself. He held all the cards, having Sahira completely and utterly at his mercy, so letting her savor at least one of the dogs was only fair.

“H…here, b…boy,” she sputtered, waving a hand and ushering a hellhound forward.

As the beast sauntered over and to the front of her, eyeing him all the while, she pushed herself up on one arm and bowed her head. The crazed slut wasn’t satisfied with getting one of the creatures off - no, she had to help herself to a spit-roast of sorts. He rolled his multitude of eyes and snorted in disdain. She’d better be enjoying herself, because he could guarantee things wouldn’t be nearly as pleasurable once he’d stepped up and shown her what a true alpha could do.

On the bright side, he wouldn’t be the only one who would be able to relish the sight of hellhounds having their way with a supposedly proud Zebrican mare. She hadn’t noticed them, or had given no indication that she had, but there were several cameras situated about the building’s interior to capture the show in all its filthy glory. Once he was done with her, and after the other canines had left her worse for wear, he would retrieve the video, pay somepony to edit it, then upload it for any and all to see; it was the least he could do after last time, with photos and films of him railing a dog going into circulation, and he may, if he was fortunate, even capitalize on the theatrical debut of his imminent co-star.

While his patience tempered, his mood improved by leaps and bounds. Rex’s fucking was so fierce that he didn’t even knot her properly, painting her back with a portion of his seed as he lost his balance and toppled back, but the next beast, possibly Champ, tied himself to her and deposited every drop of spunk within her. Each hound, save for the one who came down her throat, added to the cauldron of sweltering jizz in her womb, until he stepped forward.

Shakily looking back at him, with her slack cunt grasping at the cool air, she croaked out a chuckle. “A…about time, you - Cough - bastard…”

She’d presumably deduced that he was the cerberus, and he hoped she had. Seeing as how she had no reservations with getting used by animals, and that she held him in contempt, it was his utmost privilege to cap off her evening with something to truly remember. Walking over her prostrate form, he brought not one but two gargantuan cocks to her tush.

“What th…” The words died in her throat as he dipped his hips and touched his cock-heads to her pucker and marehood.

Along with having a trio of heads and impressive strength, his beastly form afforded him the tool - rather, tools for her destruction. His twin dicks were veritable weapons, mirrored in their incredible size and with knots that, once fully engorged, were larger than grapefruit. She’d weathered everything he’d thrown at her thus far, not just surviving but coming back for seconds, although being double-penetrated by a canine larger than herself may change that.

Bucking back against him, she flashed her teeth. “Do it…”

He obliged her as mercilessly as he could, driving his lengths into her with such fury that she slid forward and mewled in a mixture of glee and pain, and started fucking. Unaltered as she was, her body absent of any enhancements, the depths of her ass and sex spasmed and seized upon his pistoning shafts. While her cunt was somewhat loose and remarkably slick, thoroughly lubricated by five of the hellhounds, her backdoor was like a vice.

She felt amazing, though the knowledge of what was to come, coupled with the sounds of her distress, made the experience transcendent. Lifting a forepaw and placing it on her head, he ground her face into the dirt. She had been, was, and always would be beneath him, and soon she’d have a charming little recording to remind her and the lecherous masses of just that.

He touched the base of his cocks to her trembling holes as two of his jaws and brought them to her shoulders. Killing her would have been simple, but she didn’t deserve simple - she deserved an example. Anypony who saw the video of them would understand that he was a forgiving creature, sparing her from a cruel end, but that wasn’t good enough for him. Angling his thrusts downward, he hammered on her g-spot while his fangs gently pierced her flesh.

The two-fold tactic, mingling anguish and ecstasy, achieved his desired results in bombastic, wondrous fashion. She screamed so loudly that her voice cracked, nectar erupted from her confines, and she climaxed so hard that she convulsed. While she’d had several orgasms while the pack took turns with her, her release while being double-dicked was the strongest yet.

When her limbs went slack, he grunted in annoyance and carried her over to the desk. She may have been done with him, having the fight literally fucked out of her, but he wasn’t finished with her - in fact, he was just getting started. Using his trio of jaws to maneuver her into the proper position, having unceremoniously placed her onto the piece of wooden furniture, he hopped up and brought his cocks to bear.

He panted cheerfully as his hips beat against her backside. Though he couldn’t see her face, the noises she made were nothing short of electrifying. Hushed, choked gags were interrupted by whimpers and yelps, while the quintet of hellhounds watched and whined from behind him. He would have said the scene was pornographic, but that simply wasn’t true - after all, even pornography has limits to what is acceptable.

When she climaxed again, only barely managing to make a weak squeaking sound, an idea came to him. Since his stamina was the same as it had ever been, well beyond that of most stallions, perhaps a game was in order. For every climax she endured, he would plow her with increasing force until he came himself.

Stepping in burying one cock-head in her womb, he drove her past the brink for a third time. Though there was no earthly way that she could get knocked up from him in his current state, the concept of fucking a litter of pups into her was so compelling that he inched nearer to release. Peering downward and admiring her from above, his eyes danced over the streaks of sanguine smeared on her white and black fur.

To her credit, she was an astoundingly resilient creature. Most mares would have begged him to stop, casting themselves at his feet to spare themselves misery or humiliation, yet she’d managed to surprise him at every turn. She was his little toy, so robust and vindictive that she insisted he continue amusing himself with her, and he would humor himself with her until she was thoroughly broken.

Sahira could barely breathe, her cervix was violated with every buck of Shaka’s hips, and her ass was on fire, yet her rapture was beyond reproach. For most of her adulthood, and a considerable part of her youth, she’d used her gifts to give herself an edge with passionate affairs. She’d sold her body to older creatures for profit or favors, experimented with various beasts, and even tortured herself out of boredom, although those were after she’d gained some mastery of her powers.

Gritting her teeth, she clamped her eyes shut and staved off another orgasm. She would climax again, that was a certainty, but pushing herself, surviving for as long as she could, was the only way she could grow as a shaman - besides, self-denial would make the resulting, inescapable ecstasy all the sweeter. As she rocked forward and back atop the table, unable and completely unwilling to resist, a numbing haze settled over her.

The anal was a nice touch, she give him that. While she would occasionally take it in the ass, such instances were extremely infrequent and largely for the benefit of whomever or whatever she was bedding. While he straightened her intestines and abused her innards, rearranging them in ways that were far from intended, her depths were slickened by his scalding pre-cum.

He wasn’t actually hot enough to burn her, yet his incredibly high body temperatures added a novel layer to the one-sided exchange. All hellhounds were hot, both in an actual and metaphorical way, and their seed was especially magma-like. What few stories she’d heard from mares who’d taken the beasts as partners often involved how important it was not to let them cum within you, although she personally adored the feeling of having a steaming load marinating in her womb.

She was already brimming with jizz, so much that she’d developed an appreciable cum-gut from all the spunk the five hounds had filled her with, and Shaka’s essence would be the proverbial icing on the cake. While it was a bit disheartening that most of his essence would likely seep out of her, freely flowing from her abused holes as soon as she was able to stand, there’d be enough deep in her bowels to let her appreciate it for a time. As she imagined just how bloated she’d be once he climaxed, her stuffed pucker involuntarily clenched and throbbed.

Grunting and clawing at the table, she hissed. Yeah, she was gonna be feeling this in the morning. Her powers were gone, Shaka was well out of her weight class, and he’d already made a fine point of proving he could end her existence. If things truly could get worse for her, she shuddered to think how.

In every appreciable way, she was screwed. Supposing Shaka was courteous enough to deliver her to her doorstep, something of which there was no guarantee, it would take days for her to recover - sure, it would be a toss-up as to whether she’d be worse off than she had been after getting rutted by him in his primordial form, but things were far from over. Shaken from her rapturous trance by a wave of raw pleasure, she feebly wheezed and gasped.

The ordeal Shaka put her through was harrowing, so severe that her masochistic tendencies strained under the brunt of it, and it ultimately proved too much for her. After her fifth or sixth climax with him, and with the nearly half-dozen she’d received from the other hellhounds, she gave up the ghost. Fading into a blissful oblivion, she went limp and virtually lifeless when he finally howled and knotted her. While the world around her drifted away, her one regret was that she hadn’t been able to cherish the experience to its fullest.

Shaka’s tongues hung from his trio of mouths as he hassled and rode out his bliss. Delighted though he was that she’d blacked out, her lack of consciousness left him feeling torn. There was no sense in talking down to her or teasing her, due to the fact that she couldn’t reply and that he couldn’t properly form words, yet the sight of her beneath him nearly made up for her mute, catatonic state.

Foam dribbled from her nose and past her lips, her breaths came shallow and inconsistent, and she’d periodically twitch or jerk against the table. She wasn’t truly dead, although he’d driven her very, very close to the boundary of the hereafter. Leaping back and getting all four paws beneath himself, while keeping a single set of eyes on her, he winced when she unceremoniously crumpled to the ground.

Contemplating on what to do with himself and his unconsenting passenger, he flinched when she violently coughed and tore herself back to the waking world. His habit of underestimating her was both worrisome and exhilarating. Though weak, weary, and scarcely able to hold up her head, she had come back to spite him.

Bark

He went quiet and knit his brow. Confounded canine vocal cords and intelligent tongue! Pillow talk, irrespective of how demeaning or derisive, was a phenomenal way to conclude a tryst of any kind, and yet it was currently beyond his grasp. No matter - as with biting remarks and sinful promises, versatility was another fine trait that he could use to his benefit.

Sputtering and hacking spittle from her airway, she burped then groaned. She must have felt terrible, what with her shabby, cum-bloated state, and she’d be fortunate if she wasn’t wearing a diaper for the next week or so. Glad that she’d be able to enjoy the closing act he’d readied for her, he briskly trotted down the spacious corridor while dragging her along behind himself.

“H…hey…” she rasped, prompting him to slow and peek back at her.

What he would have given to tell her that the knot lodged in her ass was the one she’d need to get her power’s back - alas, she’d have to sort that small detail out herself. The transformative hex he’d placed upon himself wouldn’t expire until the following morning, so he’d have plenty of time to give her a second round - until then, displaying his quivering, bloated trophy for the other hounds, as well as the cameras, was as fine of a way as any to get a second wind. With his tail wagging and a spring in his steps, he held his heads high and strutted about.

Sahira wasn’t upset with him in the slightest, though she had every right to be. His choice to knot her in such a way, ensuring she’d have to relive the experience at least one more time before the seal on her groin was unmade, was a stroke of genius - horrifying, sadistic genius, but genius nonetheless. Hauled behind him like a marionette with its strings cut, locked to his dicks, she smiled. He’d get what was coming to him, and she’d make damn sure that it would be something special…

Chapter 7

As Shaka stepped back and flicked his wrist, expertly flipping a pancake within the pan he was holding, a smile split his muzzle. It was a beautiful morning, the latest in a string of many, and he was looking forward to what would surely be a wondrous day. With the sound of songbirds in his ears, memories of the past week came flooding back to him.

While he’d anticipated a rebuttal or counteroffensive from Sahira, she’d done nothing to even try and reap vengeance against him after he’d double-knotted her and taken her for a stroll. When last he’d seen her, she’d been a heaped mass of limbs just outside the front door of her hut. Positively shellacked with hellhound seed, as well as dripping the stuff from every conceivable orifice, she hadn’t said a thing to him when he’d departed.

Shaking the frying pan, he snickered. She wasn’t dead, he was certain of that, although her mind had likely suffered dearly after being ravaged by himself and his canine compatriots. It may have been presumptuous on his part, and he’d hate to jinx himself, but he was starting to believe he’d well and thoroughly defeated her ~ what other option was there?

She’d been absent from his life for the better part of a week, his routine from prior to meeting her had returned, and he had nothing to complain about - nevertheless, he could feel a creeping sense of ennui lurking within the periphery. Following his misadventures with her, not knowing when she’d strike or what to expect from her, everything just felt - well, somewhat boring.

He shook his head and slid the flapjack onto an awaiting plate while he dislodged her from his thoughts. She’d been a bane on his existence, putting him through things that nopony with an ounce of pride should endure, and he was not going to miss her. The utter dearth of her sharp tongue, creativity, and sadism was something to cherish, even if he’d been unable to keep her as a well-trained, obedient pet.

Knock Knock Knock-Knock Knock

Turning, he quirked a brow in the direction of his foyer. “One moment.”

Marvelous, a visitor - just the thing he needed to brighten his mood and prevent any potential doldrums at bay. Was there a potential customer waiting outside? Had some fan of his come to lavish him with praise and affection? Did the mailmare simply need him to sign for a package? No matter whom or what had come to see him, he was grateful for the small distraction.

Knock Knock Knock

“I said I’m coming,” he called out as he removed his apron and dusted his hands.

Sauntering through his home and to the entryway, adorned in not but a pair of silken boxers, he paused by the mirror beside his coat rack. He was as flawless as he’d ever been, his build adonic and muscles well-defined, and his body was on full display. Though he toyed with the thought of removing his underwear to greet his guest au naturel, letting it all hang out, he abstained and opened the door.

“Yes, how might I…”

He trailed off and stepped back while he craned his neck. The figure lurking just outside was unmistakably a zebra, yet they were so profound that he couldn’t see all of them - no, her. Above a set of detailed abs rested a pair of large, supple-looking breasts at the very top of his door frame. Lowering his gaze, unable to see her face, he spied the plump, hairless, succulent mound of her marehood - a very wet marehood.

Had somepony told him he’d be entertaining a giantess that morning, he wouldn’t have believed them - all the same, it appeared as though that’s precisely what he’d be doing. Grinning from ear to ear, he stepped back and flexed his groin. Whether his guest was seeking some gratification or not was a mystery, although he’d happily do what he could to satisfy her.

“Please, come in,” he cheerfully intoned, baying her to enter.

He’d bedded mares of all sorts, ages, and species, yet he couldn’t recall ever welcoming one so large and heavily built into his home. Musing on who she was and why she’d sought him out, he eyed her meaty, glistening pussy. Whoever she was, and for whatever reason she’d come, she was obviously worked up - possibly even in heat.

“Thanks,” she rumbled, her voice rich and lilting. Having to stoop down and turn to the side to enter, she awkwardly sidled through the door, rose to her full height again, and peered down at him. “Such a polite host…”

His smile faltered as he turned his attention away from her loins and up to her face. Golden, goat-like eyes leered down at him from beneath an ebony bone of mask. Dismay and apprehension seized him, lancing through his denial and doubt like a spear. Just when he’d started to believe he’d been rid of her, Sahira had reappeared.

Folding her brawny arms beneath her bosoms, she regarded him. “Been a little while, Shaka. I trust you’ve been well?”

“I - Ahem,” he coughed, clearing his throat and preventing his voice from cracking. “I have, yes. And you?”

“I’ve been fantastic, thank you for asking,” she snickered. Hardly moving, looming over him like a monolith, she cocked her head. “I assume you found homes for all those hellhounds you summoned?”

He licked his lips and fought the urge to shy away. “They were returned to the abyss. Pray tell, what brings you to -”

“Place looks a lot smaller now,” she casually remarked while she surveyed the interior of his foyer. Gesturing over to his coffee table, she grunted. “Is that new?”

Looking over to the piece of furniture, he nodded. “As a matter of fact, it is. My time as a feral stallion saw me replace a number of items throughout my household.”

She swung her focus back to him, smirked, and stepped forward. “It looks nice. My compliments to the carpenter who crafted it.”

“Considering that the carpenter was none other than myself, I’m flattered,” he warily laughed.

To say that he was at a disadvantage was an understatement. Hexes took some small amount of time to prepare, requiring both focus and precision to enact, and he would be hard pressed to best her in physical combat. Keeping his distance, he measured her up and drank her in.

She was taller than him, her rack being at almost perfect eye level, and her physique, so beefy as to make him look petite, was astounding. It would be difficult to get exact measurements on her without a scale, some measuring tape, and some gym equipment to test her strength, although she certainly appeared that she could take on an entire troupe of burly yaks single-handedly. While he was sure that her gargantuan metamorphosis had something to do with him, her congeniality allowed him to do something he sorely needed - stall her.

He backed away slowly as he extended an arm toward his kitchen. “Would you like breakfast? I was just preparing some pancakes for myself.”

“Shaka, as always, you are too kind,” she clucked. As her eyes drifted down his chest, past his midsection, and to his nethers, her tongue glided over her lips. “However, I’m more of a meat girl.”

“Ah - but I can accommodate that as well,” he tutted. Lowering a hand, he wrapped his fingers around the base of his steadily hardening stallionhood. “Should you like, I’d gladly give you a feast in my bedroom.”

Tapping a finger to her chin, she thoughtfully squinted up at the ceiling hanging mere inches from her snout. “Hmmmm - no, I believe I’ll have to decline that offer…”

“If you have something else in mind, I’m all ears,” he mused.

With the few seconds of cordiality afforded to him, he devised a plan. Shooting in and throwing himself at her feet, he would grab her ankles and set her off balance - after that, he could get her onto her back, mount her from behind, and deep-dick her while locking arms with her. Wrestling wasn’t his specialty, and he most certainly hadn’t thought he’d ever had to grapple with somepony in his foyer, but potentially desperate times called for equally desperate measures.

He tensed and struck like lightning, darting at her with the speed of a serpent - unfortunately, his hastily laid scheme fell to pieces instantaneously. As thick digits closed around his throat, choking him from air and lifting him from the ground, his eyes bulged in their sockets. She’d caught him like a gnat, snatching him up like he weighed nothing, and smirked over at him.

“Perhaps my praise was undue,” she sighed. “That was very, very rude of you, Shaka.”

Caught in her steely, unyielding grip, he kicked his legs and pawed at her arm. This was worse than he could have imagined. With perilously little effort, she’d rendered him helpless and starved of oxygen. While she carried him through the entry hall and into his den, his fingernails glided harmlessly over her striped coat.

She stopped before his couch, gingerly sat him down, and released him. “I’ll permit that small faux pas, if you promise to behave for a moment ~ do I make myself clear?”

“C…crystal,” he croaked, giving her the ok hand sign.

Sahira straightened up without taking her eyes off him. His attempt to attack her came as no shock, and it had given her the perfect excuse to prove a point. She had the strength and reflexes to counter anything he could possibly throw at her, surpassing him physically in every appreciable way, although she couldn’t fully credit herself for it.

The days following her experience at the kennel had been miserable. Aside from the exorbitant amount of time she’d spent in the bathroom, purging herself of what felt like gallons of canine cum, simple things had been a trial. Her ass had been wrecked, forcing her to use a padded donut if she wished to sit down, and she was fairly sure she’d nearly dislocated a hip.

She could deal with the bodily afflictions, having tolerated worse over the years, but the mental anguish had been excruciating. Despite her best efforts, meticulously plotting and using every ounce of her guile against him, he refused to submit to her - worse still, like some unholy rash, he kept coming back to haunt her. At her wits end one evening, meditating on how to deal with him in a more impactful way, she’d been given divine inspiration.

Since Shaka was a relatively simple creature, preferring the use of brute force over cunning, a simple solution was warranted - as such, she’d dramatically changed tactics. While it was disheartening that he was too slow-witted to appreciate a more cunning approach, his reaction to tasting his own medicine would surely make up for it.

Balancing on one leg, she placed a bare foot on his chest. “I’m open to suggestions, little one…”

He gave no response, opting to mutely glared up at her, yet the contempt in his eyes thrilled her to no end. She knew precisely what she was going to do with him and to him, but she was in no rush. Having taken nearly an entire week to calculate what he may or may not do to derail her grand designs, factoring in every variable that she could consider, she was going to savor her visit.

“You know, I’m a bit surprised that you haven’t boorishly told you to fuck myself,” she noted, caressing his neck with her big toe.

“And what good would that do me?” he countered. “We both know that would serve no purpose - furthermore, with as drenched as you are, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn you did that before you’d come knocking at my door.”

Lowering her foot back to the ground, she shifted one arm and rubbed her cunt. “Indeed, I did. It’s been so long since I’ve known your touch that I got a bit worked up ~ see.”

Stepping in and leaning back, she spread her legs and thrust her hips forward. Besides her towering stature, the thick slabs of muscle covering her frame, and her heightened sense, she’d bestowed herself with a slightly modified marehood. Far juicier and fatter than normal, so plump that it sent rivulets of nectar down her inner thighs, her sex was capable of handling the most well-hung lovers imaginable.

“By the way,” she continued, slamming one foot next to his shoulder, “that wasn’t a request.”

Shaka rolled his eyes. “And if I refuse?”

As her snout twisted in a toothy smile, her eyes narrowed. “I was hoping you’d say that…”

Gripping him by the throat, she heaved him from the sofa, slammed him against the wall, and brought her free hand to his hip. The list of things she had in store for him left her spoiled for choice, although opening with a bit of vigorous foreplay would benefit them both. She licked her chops as she leaned to one side and brought herself face to face with his rigid, twitching stallionhood.

Even for somepony of her current size, his endowment would be totally adequate to fill her amorous needs. Opening her muzzle, she moaned as she inhaled his cock. Though she was loath to admit it, in part because she viewed him and his haughtiness with disdain, she’d developed a particular taste for him.

His natural scent and flavor were as electrifying as ever. She could tell he hadn’t showered that morning or possibly even the night prior, with the bouquet of his loins being particularly potent, she was looking forward to sampling the essence he’d almost assuredly been saving for her. Squeezing down and strangling him, she bobbed her head and mopped his length with her lips and tongue.

Shaka’s eyes rolled while his strength gradually fled from him. It was difficult for him to picture how the circumstances could be more dire. The vast majority of his otherworldly abilities required him to draw breath, something she’d yet to permit, and all of his struggles were in vain - if those weren’t unsettling enough, the pleasure from receiving such a spirited blowjob at such an early hour put him in a precarious situation.

The corners of his vision darkened, his heart hammered in his bosom, his lungs spasmed, and his balls drew taut to his crotch while he hurtled toward release. There was no point in trying to hold himself back, putting all of his effort into not passing out, yet the climax which hit him made him disgusted with himself. Noiselessly flapping his jaw, he spontaneously disgorged a load of jizz down her gullet.

Sucking the cum from his dick as though it was an oversized straw, she only withdrew once she’d swallowed every drop of his spunk. “As refreshing as ever…”

He crashed the ground when she leased him and drew back. “I - Cough!”

Holding up a finger, he caught his breath. He’d like to say that she was done with him, although he was painfully aware that wasn’t the case. She had him right where she wanted him, sputtering and doing his damnedest to prop himself up on one arm, and she wouldn’t spare him the ignominy of such a brief visit.

She shifted and touched a toe to his semi-rigid shaft. “This must be an off day for you.”

Turning his head from side to side, he sneered. “Forgive me. If you give me a moment to recuperate, I’ll be happy to plow a bastard or two into you.”

“No need,” she whispered. Sinking into a splay-legged squat, she hunched down, brushed the dreadlocks from her face, and brought her muzzle to his groin. “Kosemi…”

Defying all common sense, blood surged into his stallionhood. What would ordinarily take a few minutes at best, with his refractory period subsiding and letting him go a second round, was to seconds. Staring down at his treacherous tool, and understanding that she’d used a hex on him, he frowned.

“Much better,” she tittered. “Now about that bastard you promised me.”

“And how long will this last,” he huffed.

Lightly kicking him onto his back, she turned and straddled his head. “Until I’m so weary that it dissipates. Not to fret, I won’t be too rough with you.”

The sight of her marehood overhead, slavering excitedly over his face, was a compelling one, though it gave him little comfort. With her uncouth manners and the vulgar way she’d just manhandled him, a part of him was inclined to chide her - mercifully, that small, admittedly petty temptation contended his better judgment. Saying or doing anything to needle her would only make matters worse for him, but…

“Oh good,” he muttered. “And here I was worried that all of your additional heft had dulled your supposedly keen intelle-Mmmmph!”

“As scathing as always,” she tutted while muzzling him with her cunt. “Do put that wagging tongue of yours to better use.”

He could barely hear her, her words muffled by the thick, powerful thighs pressed to either side of his head, though he’d gotten the gist of what she’d said. Even under the most appalling conditions, one should strive to humble their rivals - in cases such as his, when all he could do was metaphorically spit in her eye, it was all the more prudent. Smothered by her marehood, with his arms trapped under her shins, he lavished her depths.

The way he saw it, he had two options - to lie there and do as little as possible, essentially becoming her plaything, or to fight back and give her what she wanted. A wiser stallion would have afforded her no pleasure, yet his hubris and ego demanded he take an active part in the unfair contest. While he dragged his tongue over her velvety walls, he took solace that he’d filled his lungs before she’d began suffocating him.

It was hard to imagine that she’d stoop to such a low, subduing him with raw power, yet her strategy had worked alarmingly well. Lifting his legs and planting his feet, he wavered when her hands ran over his legs and to his ankles. She wasn’t to let him get away so easily, he realized that much, and his chances of escaping or exacting retribution were growing fainter and fainter with every moment that passed.

“I know I don’t have to warm you up, but…” she purred as he sensed her kiss his cock-head.

Shuddering, he unconsciously thrust his stallionhood up at her snout. He’d heard that there were those who found it particularly rousing to be asphyxiated while masturbating or having sex, although he’d never given any credence to the idea. Why anypony would want to do something so hazardous throughout an enjoyable affair was beyond him - all the same, like what had happened minutes prior, he found his normally admirable endurance lacking.

Pulling up and clearing her maw, she dipped her head and nuzzled her snout to the base of his shaft. “Ah ah - don’t get too hasty. I have a full night of sinful delights ready for you…”

A whole night? She was bluffing - she had to be. Irrespective of her love of tormenting him, and that he apparently wouldn’t be going soft anytime soon, what did she have to gain from brutishly having her way with him for such an extended period? He drew a deep breath and swiftly gathered himself as she lifted her waist and freed his face from her cavernous snatch.

“A…a full night ~ eh?” he feebly inquired, injecting a small modicum of smugness into his voice.

“Indeed,” she smoothly replied. “Since you’re back there, be so kind as to polish the ass you took joy in breaking in.”

His eyes shot to the pulsing pucker above him. Her metamorphosis hadn’t changed all that much about her, excluding her proportions, mass, and extraordinarily engorged marehood, yet her backdoor wasn’t what it once had been. In place of the tight, nearly virginal crater that had been nestled between her buns, a bloated, clearly well-used donut of flesh winked down at him.

Swaying her hips, she flagged her tail. “Having your fat, knotted dog-cock locked in my bowels was an eye-opening experience - so much so that I fear I have a budding a fondness for anal.”

“Well, that’s…” He hesitated, genuinely unsure of how to feel or what to say about the revelation. “I’m happy to have been of service.”

She lowered herself with glacial speed and allowed him to relish his approaching, musky doom. “If you truly mean that, you should get reacquainted. Here, I’ll help…”

All her weight was thrown downward in the blink of an eye, giving him no opportunity to stop her or move his head. One moment, he’s just been ogling her asshole - the next, his face was buried in it. While he took no umbrage with eating out a mare of any persuasion, he drew a line at having his snout entombed with somepony’s tush.

Never before had he been in such dire straits. Sahira was basically edging him, teasing his dick with her lips and tongue, while simultaneously killing him with her big, staggeringly buff booty. While she may come short of actually murdering him, taking more glee from keeping him alive than from snuffing out his existence, the possibility that she could end him was unnerving.

His stallionhood slowly flared, throbbing and twitching violently as his animalistic impulses somehow overtook his need to survive. Outside of offering some fascinating and disconcerting insight on his psychological state under pressure, she’d somehow found a way to embarrass him, emasculate him, and push his buttons in tandem. Twisting and leaning his head back, growing increasingly desperate for air, he was granted some reprieve when she got up.

She clenched as she stood, pulling his head off the ground before relaxing and letting it fall back to the floor with a dull thud. “You’d mentioned going to the bedroom?”

“Guh…w…wha…” he incoherently groaned.

Scoop up and held in a princess carry, he wearily looked around in confusion. She’d mentioned something about his bedroom, that much was clear, though she’d neglected to tell him what they’d be doing there. Trundled down the hall and into his chamber, he feebly helped as he flung onto his mattress.

“I truly am sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” she pouted as she crossed to the foot of the bed. “A majestic stallion shouldn’t be treated so disgracefully, so I’ll give you a second chance,” she added. Pulling at his legs and stretching him lengthwise over the mattress, she crawled over him. “Prove you’re a stud who’s worthy of taking me, and I may spare your dignity.”

He peered down his chest and spotted her kneeling over his waist. She was in the perfect position to ride him, gracing the tip of his length with her snatch, and she’d expressly told him what he had to do. Mustering his strength, he lifted his arms, took hold of her waist, and forced her down while bucking his hips with all his might.

While her cunt was far less snug than it used to be, his violent plunge was rewarded by a guttural, whorish noise escaping her lips. Having the know-how and equipment to bring any creature to their knees in rapture, he could still win - if not, he wasn’t going to go down without a fight. Bracing his legs, motivated by the burning desire to conquer her, he jackhammered into her from below.

Sahira leaned back and fiercely twisted her nipples as her g-spot was pummeled. The sweet little thing was trying his heart out - hells, he probably thought he was doing a fine job of showing her a good time! His ministrations were acceptable enough, just intense enough to eventually drive her to a climax, yet it was the notion that she would snatch victory from his clutches that pushed her to her limit.

“R…right there,” she stammered.

Reclining against his bent legs, she brought a hand to her crotch and furiously kneaded her clit. An orgasm or two from her would hardly hamper her machinations - if anything, they’d be beneficial. The harder she came, the more convinced he’d be that he was beating her - the more convinced he was that he’d best her, the sweeter her inevitable triumph would be.

It was often said that fate is a cruel mistress - never was that more true than when Sahaka howled and quaked beneath her. For a transient moment, she presumed he was putting on an act, merely pretending to cross the threshold, but then she felt a warmth blossom within her. He’d just bred her, painting her interior with his essence, and his substandard performance couldn’t have been more poorly timed.

Stopping dead, she glowered at him. “Seriously…”

“J…just a second…” he rasped.

His mind was willing, yet his flesh, abused and mistreated by her superior form, was lacking. Though it was amusing to see him in such a sorry state, wheezing and shivering like a leaf, she was anything but entertained. In a grand, ironic twist, she’d been robbed of her first climax of the day by his inadequacies - seriously, she’d gotten more enjoyment from him when she’d turned him into a colt!

Smiling to herself, she saw a silver lining. Only the best of the best could turn a negative into a positive, and she counted herself among them. She tweaked her right nipple and clit, keeping herself on edge, and cleared her throat. Though he’d disappointed her, she wasn’t so callous as to punish him for his shortcomings.

“I’ll give you five minutes to make me cum,” she growled as she nodded to a clock on his nightstand. “Beseech whatever deity you hold dear that you don’t fail me again…”

Her small bit of encouragement did the trick, although in an unexpectedly delightful way. On every other occasion when he’d rutted her, regardless of his form, he’d been energetic and skillful - now, overpowered and with a vague threat dangling over his head, the rutting he delivered was pathetic. His soft whines and heavy breaths were accompanied by arrhythmic, weak thrusts, and his ordinarily peerless technique had disappeared entirely. While she would have had an easier and quicker time getting off by herself, witnessing him in such a pitiful state was just what she’d yearned for.

She came just shy of the fifth minute, holding herself back for long enough to ensure his dread flooded his system with adrenaline. Constricting her vice-like depths around him, using the pelvic control she’d trained since she was a mere filly, she whisked him to the gates of nirvana along with her. There’d been no need to see him cum again, especially since it was his third orgasm over such a short period of time, yet the sensation of a stallion’s seed bathing her canal and cervix was always a welcome accoutrement to a climax.

Leaning back further, she bore down and baptized him with a cocktail of their carnal juices. Her display was more than some paltry show, assuredly convincing him that he’d be spared the worst of what she had to offer, and it worked magnificently. As she cracked an eye and peeked down at him, seeing a silly little grin on his muzzle, her spirits soared.

“W…with time to s…spare,” he croaked.

She ignored his bravado as she straightened and touched a fingertip to the root of his sheathed length. “Would you like a small break?”

Glancing from her face to his groin and back again, he gulped. He had to be hypersensitive at this point, having expended two loads into her cunt and one down her throat, although he chose not to answer her. Listing over and slipping a hand under his left leg, she gave him as much time as he’d like to reply - not because she cared about what he might say, but because any response he had didn’t matter.

A look of horror flitted over his face when she shuffled back and placed his knees over his thighs. “W…what are you -”

“Sssssssssh,” she hissed as she rose and took a step forward. “With as exhausted as you seem to be, allow me to take the lead and do all the heavy lifting.”

The position she took, staying impaled on him while holding him up and keeping him balanced on his shoulders, was the ultimate expression of feminine dominance. Bestride his thighs, she drove his legs to his chest and started fucking herself on him. She’d known of the amazoness press for years, well over a decade, although the lengths she’d have to go through to use it on somepony other than a dwarf or a colt had made it impractical for a diminutive mare like herself - that was, until now.

Shaka’s back bowed with her plunges, the air was driven from his lungs, and the line between pleasure and pain blurred. For any stallion to be subjected to such treatment from a mare was shameful, but a tiny sliver of him, the smallest little piece, was enthralled. She was a vile creature, the sort of mare mothers warned their colts about, and she had levied the full, wicked force of her ire against the one stud he presumed was immune to such lecherous beasts - him.

Setting his jaw, he shut his eyes. His one hope of salvation was his mind, arguably his greatest asset, and it was the one tool he had left to rely on. The good news was that his faculties were intact - the bad news was he was hardly in any position to think clearly. Beset with torturous ecstasy, folded like a pretzel, and with a visit to a chiropractor in his future, should he be lucky enough to weather her onslaught, all he could do was hope - pray his tale wouldn’t end in such a deplorable way.

She moved like a fiend, bearing a rictus grin while using him like cheap marital aid, and was merciless to a fault. His fifth orgasm didn’t stop her, nor did his sixth or seventh, while his seed gushed and lewdly flowed from her marehood, over his crotch, and seeped into his once immaculate coat. Had she wished to make a mockery of him, she’d accomplished her goal - even so, she didn’t relent.

As his consciousness waned, his grip of reality grew tenuous. The sounds he made, dull grunts that were occasionally punctuated by hushed whimpers, sounded so odd that he could hardly recognize his own voice, yet he’d moved past putting any effort into stifling himself. Feeling cool, soothing air against his aching cock, a veritable balm compared to the hellish rapture of her infernal sex, he blinked.

It was over, she was done with him. He couldn’t say how many climaxes she’d had herself, neither caring nor counting the instances where her shrill wails rang in his ear, though the satisfied look on her sweat-streaked face told him everything he needed to know. Clinging to the tattered remnants of his pride, he smiled.

Wiping her brow, she turned her head toward his nightstand. “All things considered, not bad…”

He followed her gaze and did a double take. She’d appeared at his door shortly after eight in the morning, and now his clock read just after noon. Approximately four hours - she’d been fucking herself on him for over four hours, and she only looked the slightest bit tired. As he peered up at her, the gravitas of everything sank in.

Having coaxing every bit of seed from his sore, throbbing balls, she’d milked him like a cow. In a way, he was honored - then again, in light of how terrible he felt, and that she hadn’t left, he would save the celebrations for later. Kicked to the side and off the bed, he winced when he fell ingloriously to the floor.

“Up,” she instructed from atop the mattress. “Get up this instant.”

What she would do if he disobeyed was anypony’s guess, although he wasn’t about to refuse her. Gritting his teeth, he got onto all fours and dragged himself back onto the bed. She’d made herself at home, resting her head on his pillows while splaying her legs and massaging her enormous cunt, and took no leap of logic to comprehend what she expected of him.

Spreading herself open with both hands, she revealed her rosy, glazed depths. “About that breakfast…”

On any other day, with any other mare, he would have gladly eaten pussy to start his day - in spite of that, he pulled himself over to her. To disobey her would be tantamount to suicide, prolonging his ordeal while bolstering her savagery, so he took the only reasonable course of action - he yielded. Though she’d quite handily won the battle, emasculating him in ways that belied belief, the war was far from over.

Sahira remained motionless and stared down at him. What she would have given to see inside his head. How angry was he truly? Had he enjoyed himself in the slightest? Would this be the final nail in his coffin, or would he persevere and eventually retaliate against her. Not a single word passed his lips as he licked at her cunt, yet the defiance in his eyes spoke volumes.

Hooking a leg around the back of his head, she held his face to her loins. “Such an obliging stallion - you know, if you had been this respectful when you’d first come to my hut, I wouldn’t have to resort to such uncouth methods to tame you.”

“Nnnph,” he grunted into her.

She paused, lifted her leg, and waved a hand. “Come again? As your mother surely taught you, it’s rude to speak with one’s mouth full.”

Lifting his head, he grimly locked eyes with her. “First of all, I never had a mother - secondly, I - Nnnf!”

“Oh you poor, sweet little thing,” she lamented, double-leg locking his head. “That explains so much about you! Come the morrow, once we’ve had our fun and you’ve earned some rest, I’ll permit you to relive your childhood with me - who knows, if you’re a good colt who listens to mommy, you may get rewarded!”

He trembled as he went back to lapping his jizz from her marehood. It may take her weeks, months, or even years, but there’d come a time when she would unravel him at a fundamental level and make him anew - when that day came, she would have a stallion deserving of her love and affection. While she groped her chest and pinched her nipples, her eyes never strayed from his handsome, disheveled face.

She’d won this round, and she could have her way with him until exhaustion took her, though he’d earned the smallest bit of respite. Once the night had passed and a new dawn was upon him, she would tend to his wounds to ensure he was in fine health - if only to provoke him with her sympathy. Sighing, she extended an arm and stroked the top of his head.

While he assuredly despised her, hating her with every fiber of his being, she couldn’t say she felt the same way about him - at least, not anymore. He was nigh indomitable, adamantine in nearly every way, and she’d be lying if she claimed not to admire him in a way - true, he’d earned her scorn, but respect didn’t always go hand in hand with camaraderie. As her heart raced, her imagination went wild with all the possible ways he’d strike back against her.

Shaka needed no mirror to comprehend how appalling he must have looked. His mane was a matted mess, his charming visage was smeared with nectar, his cum, and her nectar, and there was a pain in his side that smacked of a bruised or cracked rib, but his resolve, while battered and bruised, had not left him. Bringing his lips to her clit, he delicately nibbled on the sensitive bud of flesh.

He’d had this coming, he wouldn’t deny that, and he had to applaud her for her efforts. Not since he’d first wrangled with a dragoness, a colossal, lusty she-beast who’d been nearly quadruple his age and triple his size, had he been so thoroughly put through the wringer. Swallowing down a salty, bitter mouthful of spunk, he snorted in amusement and silently conspired against her…

Chapter 8

“I’m a bit surprised you weren’t more creative,” Sahira commented, having to take nearly three steps for every one of Shaka’s strides.

Peeking down and over at Sahira, Shaka grunted while he lumbered onward. “In what way?”

She shrugged as she kept pace with him. “Given my current state, I would have thought you’d bring me to a schoolyard or something of the sort.”

“A fine idea, although you’ve neglected one key detail - colts don’t typically have an abundance of bits. Whoring you out to adults will be vastly more lucrative,” he tutted. Leading her across the abandoned parking lot and to a small outbuilding, he slowed. “Go and make yourself up.”

“Fine,” she groused. Hopping up and snatching a bag from his hand, she strutted away and gave him the finger. “But I’m not going to like it.”

“Yes you will,” he laughed. “Now be a good filly and listen to daddy.”

Seeing no need to protest, she strutted through the open doorway, around a snaking corridor, and into an open, tiled chamber. The rest stop was like many others throughout Equestria, affording the bare minimum of privacy and prioritizing function over form, although it evoked a sense of nostalgia. As she shifted and meandered to a row of sinks and mirrors situated opposite from a number of bathroom stalls and urinals, the corners of her lips turned up.

The mare in the mirror was familiar, but she hadn’t seen her in a long, long time. Her chest was deliciously flat, lacking any breasts to speak of, and her figure was rail-thin. She could easily pass for a malnourished teenager, somepony who was only barely legal, or even a filly. Turning and twisting her shoulders, she eyed her reflection and snickered.

A neon thong clung to her waist, scarcely covering her underdeveloped marehood and doing nothing to hide her lackluster tush, while a matching top, one that was little more than thin string and two little triangles of fabric, conformed to her foal-like torso. Seeing a mare of her apparent age sauntering around in such revealing attire would surely turn heads and raise questions, yet the swimwear and her adolescent looks weren’t the only things she had going for her. Clad in stilettos that would give most hookers a hard time, fishnet leggings and arm sleeves, and with a crop top that stopped just short of concealing her nonexistent bust, she was the spitting image of a seasoned, underaged whore.

She took a moment to adjust her trampy apparel, ensuring one nipple was slightly exposed, before moving to the sink and opening the bag she’d gotten from Shaka. While she carefully placed various cosmetics beneath the mirror, an odd mixture of irritation and excitement welled within her. Her plans for the day had been thoroughly upended, leading her to her current predicament, and she had nopony to blame but herself.

Her plan had been perfect - or so she’d thought. After procuring her newest outfit, and in so doing made the couture noticeably uncomfortable, she’d slipped off to Shaka’s abode to give him a little surprise. Barging in and having her way with him had been wondrously entertaining, yet it hadn’t quite been enough for her. After trouncing and emasculating him physically, fucking herself on him so brutally that the aches and pains he’d suffer would serve as a reminder for several weeks, he’d earned something less strenuous.

Reversing her age had been easy enough, as had buying the slutty clothes and sneaking into his house, but everything fell apart when she’d shimmied through his bedroom window. Instead of silently mounting him, teasing him, and filming him being toyed with by a filly, he’d turned the tables on her with laughable ease. In her current state, having virtually no strength to speak of, being snatched up and choked by a single, iron-gripped hand had unmade her scheme so quickly that she’d been unable to stop him.

Once he’d taped her muzzle shut and tied her up, preventing her from doing anything other than squirming atop her mattress, he’d given her an offer. Instead of recording and releasing a video that would further damage his reputation and draw attention from the Royal Guard, considering the illicit connotations of such activity, he offered to help her with her little film project. His offer was simple - she would accompany him to a disreputable rest area outside of Fillydelphia, serve any truckers who wanted to blow off some steam, and do so with a smile on her face.

Being sold off to older stallions with dubious hygiene, especially when one had the body of a filly, would have been a terrible fate for nearly anypony, although it was far from the worst thing Shaka could have done with and to her. Seasoned studs needed relief as much as anypony, and those who spent their lives delivering goods from one town to another were often some of the neediest. She had many fond memories involving just that, vanishing in the dead of night from her mother’s abode and returning in the morning with a king’s ransom of bits she’d earned from her questionable services.

“Truck pulling in,” Shaka called from just outside.

Pushing aside her reminiscing, she pouted and anointed herself with a retina-searing shade of lipstick. Providing truckers with some comfort could be rewarding both financially and sexually, yet there was a fly in the metaphorical ointment. Having finished with her cosmetics, applying mascara, eyeliner, and a hint of blush, she stowed the makeup and strutted out into the night.

Shaka turned his head and grinned as she appeared. “You look marvelous.”

“And you look like shit,” she shot back, forcibly injecting contempt into her voice.

Though she told herself not to look at him, her eyes strayed over to his immense figure. Given that there was a non-zero chance that he would co-star in any material they produced, he’d disguised himself to fit his potential role. The tank top he wore struggled to constrain his bulk, slipping above his muscular gut and hugging his vast pecs, while his jeans were so tight that they left nothing to be imagined. He had the spitting image of a dad bod, walking the tightrope of being overweight and muscular, and he was positively mountainous compared to her - in short, he’d inadvertently made himself even more appealing than normal.

“Are…are you wet?” he muttered with a sneer.

“No…” she spat. Seeing him looking at her crotch, she peered downward. She was drenched, her inner thighs glistening with arousal, and her marehood winked so hard that it made her tongue bulge. “M…maybe…”

“Well that should make your job easier,” he laughed while nodding over to a tractor trailer rolling into the lot.

He grinned as he lifted his gaze to the stylized, stylish crest below her navel. He hadn’t just caught her red handed, he’d erased any chance she had of doing anything against him. Her powers were sealed, she wasn’t strong enough to fend off a colt, let alone him, and she wasn’t going to regain her abilities until he so chose - sadly, though he had every right to be proud of himself for apprehending her and thwarting her scheme, his victory was a hollow one.

While he masterfully concealed it, faking mirth and derision at her so-called plight, he was somewhat vexed at her enthusiasm. She’d come with him willingly, hadn’t protested in the slightest, and the ease with which she’d acclimated to being an underage escort was unsettling - as if those weren’t frustrating enough, she seemed rather smitten with his new, offensive look. He’d ruined her plot to tarnish his image and get him into trouble, but she’d stolen the joy from his triumph over her and her subsequent punishment.

Altering course and devising something else to do with her was an option, yet the wind had been taken from his sails. They’d arcanely traveled across Equestria, a prospective customer may be about to present himself, and shedding his disguise would be tiring - accordingly, he was going to stay the course. If nothing else, should they encounter a willing client, he’d walk away with some spending bits.

“What’s the plan?” she hissed.

As he came to his senses, his eyes shot from her to a lumbering figure stepping down from the parked truck’s cab. “I - shit…”

In his haste to demean her, he’d overlooked how he was going to peddle her services. Any stallion who had an ounce of sense, supposing they weren’t blind, would immediately presume he was an undercover officer working a sting operation. With little time to spare, noticing how the driver had spotted them and stopped in his tracks, he growled under his breath.

Grabbing him by one finger, Sahira tugged his arm. “Follow my lead…”

He inherently wanted to pull away from her, yet he begrudgingly acquiesced. Her experience with the world’s oldest profession were well beyond his, since he’d never had to pay anypony or anything for sexual service, and he would have to bow to her expertise if his business venture was to succeed. Walking along after her, he found himself peering down at her back.

She was so small and delicate that it felt surreal. The top of her head, covered in dreadlocks, only came up to his crotch, her limbs were like twigs, and she was so slender that he could nearly wrap his hand around her torso. He’d been charitable enough to imbue her with an enchantment of his own, making her nigh unbreakable, although he could hardly believe how she could handle even an averagely well-hung stallion.

“Over here, by the urinal,” she quietly prompted. Releasing him and stepping back, fiddled with her leggings. “Stupid things...”

Walking into one corner of the room, he studied her. “Problem?”

“Fishnets are always a pain; they tear easily, have a tendency to bunch up, and aren’t comfortable. Might I suggest latex next time,” she hissed.

“Duly noted,” he snorted. “So what are -”

“Pull your pants down and lean back,” she murmured, “and keep your voice down. When that john comes in, if he comes in, he’ll get an eyeful.”

He shrugged and resentfully did as he’d been asked. She knew what she was doing, and he couldn’t find fault with her idea - still, this wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to be able to sit back, pimp her out, and rake in bits while savoring her torment, yet she’d taken charge and was ordering him around. As he unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down his beefy legs, she sashayed over and slammed a foot next to his thigh.

“Come here often, big guy?” she loudly sensually inquired.

“Of course I don’t, this is…” Going quiet, he mutely cursed. “Every so often, but that’s neither here nor there. What brings a cute little filly to a place like this?”

Clutching herself, she shivered and lowered her leg. “I’m just trying to find some way to warm up tonight, mister. You wouldn’t know how a poor, defenseless filly might be able to do that ~ would you?”

In spite of the cliché act, he genuinely chuckled. “Ah might have an idea or two, little missy, but that’s supposin’ you’re willin’ to earn it?”

When she ground her thighs together and coyly motioned to his right hand, he lifted the camera and leveled it at her. The shot of her through the miniature screen was sinful in the utmost regard, capturing the innocence of her counterfeit youth contrasted against her honeyed words and lecherous garb, and it did something unprecedented - it turned him on. Bucking his hips and wagging his stallionhood at her, he smirked.

He had no love for foal fiddlers, finding them reprehensible in every regard, although understanding that the filly before him was anything but chaste was titillating. Her mind was wholly intact, holding all the prurience it had since he’d met her, and she wasn’t afraid to wield her diminutive body against him. Zooming in on her chest, he hit the record button on the camcorder.

“Well,” he continued, “you gonna earn it.”

Closing the gap between them, she giggled as she lifted his length in both hands and gave his cock-head a kiss. “I can do that…”

His dick wasn’t any bigger than it usually was, yet its size and sheer heft relative to her meager size was awe-inspiring. Twisting and struggling to hold his shaft in one palm, she brought her arm up beside his tool to show Shaka, herself, and any would-be viewers in the future just what she was dealing with. She was already worked up, her pussy gushing merely from the notion of being destroyed in her current state, but actually fondling his massive goods made her go feral with desire.

“Oh wow,” she breathed, peeking up at him with a crazed smile. “You’re huge, mister…”

While she was flexing her theatrical aptitude for him and the camera to an extent, she didn’t have to act hard. Holding something so utterly gargantuan was incredible, she could feel his heartbeat through his shaft, and his scent - gods help her, his scent alone was so powerful that she couldn’t resist it. Reverently lowering his godly stallionhood, she dipped her head and pressed her face to the thick folds of flesh at the base of his length.

Growing up had been a long, grueling, subtle process, and it had changed her in both body and mind. She didn’t recall things smelling or tasting any different when she’d been a filly, but the bouquet that filled her sinuses and lungs with every breath she took compelled her very soul. Bringing her hands under Shaka’s coin purse, she piously fondled his balls as she tongued his musky sheath.

“Good filly,” he approvingly hummed from above. “Get daddy nice and clean…”

Fuck ~ was she cursed or blessed? She’d grown up without a father, being the bastard offspring of some unknown sperm donor whom her mother had claimed, and had unwittingly developed a bit of a complex. Traditionally attractive stallions, those being muscular and statuesque, did have an effect on her, and she found them rather fetching, but slightly overweight, unkempt, patriarchal studs tickled her fancy like few other things could.

“D…daddy,” she sputtered, drooling from both ends.

Shaka caressed the top of her head and gazed down upon her. “Yes, babygirl?”

Instantly losing her train of thought, she stared up and into his big, emerald eyes. The smile he affixed her with could only be described as loving and paternal, the way he rubbed her mane warmed her heart, and his dulcet, loving tone made her knees buckle. He wasn’t her dad, and yet her imagination latched onto a single, infuriatingly provocative concept - he could be her daddy tonight.

She yearned to be his daughter, motivated by some unholy desire that she couldn’t understand. Apart from her damned id and litany of fetishes, there was no magic at play. He’d done nothing to impact her cognition, and she’d gone to great lengths to keep her faculties intact after her metamorphosis, so she had nopony to blame but herself for longing to worship him. French kissing the tip of his length, she smeared her face against his flare.

“Daddy,” she groaned, lapping the sweat from his unwashed dick. “Daddy, I want this so bad.”

To the hells with it - should he question her or hint that she wasn’t putting on an extremely passionate front, she could always lie. Clutching the underside of his cock, she stroked him off and coaxed a mouthful of salty, thick pre-cum into her snout. Though her prepubescent cunt throbbed and ached, begging to be put to use, she ignored it and leveled the entirety of her focus on her enormous daddy.

There was so many things she could do that she didn’t know where to start. Attempting to choke herself on him was an obvious option to start things off, and his tremendous nuts definitely needed some affection, but those only involved two parts of him. Had she a stepladder available, or if he’d sat down, she would lick and rub herself over every divine inch of his body - in fact, that gave her an idea…

She ducked down and squirmed under him, kissing and briefly sniffing his balls as she went. The last time she’d willingly shoved her face in some stallion’s taint was - shit - frankly, she couldn’t recall when she’d done it. Dragging her tongue over the crevice between his coin purse and his pucker, she started when he cleared his throat and stiffened.

“Don’t mind us,” he intoned.

“I - uh - yeah…” an unfamiliar voice warily grumbled.

Only then remembering what she was supposed to be doing, being bait for some unassuming and hopefully horny trucker, she freed herself and looked over her shoulder. The dragon that stood at her back, being egregiously overweight, unkempt, and homely, was nothing short of a fat, ugly bastard. Her disdain from the sight of him and his grease-streaked, careworn t-shirt and smoke-stained cap, wavered when she spied the twitching, prominent bulge at his groin.

The trucker was either smuggling a salami in his pants or was comparably endowed to Shaka. Seeing something behind the imprint of his dick, she did a double take when she realized what she’d spotted. Unless her eyes were deceived, the stud was packing a monstrous pair of cum-tanks to accompany his equally impressive tool.

“She yours?” the dragon rumbled, nodding down to her while peering over at Shaka.

“For now, yeah,” Shaka replied. “Want a turn with her, partner?”

Snickering and shaking his head, the trucker loosened his belt. “How about it, cutie?” he asked her with a broad, welcoming smile. “You want to have some fun with me?”

She gazed at his crotch and dumbly nodded. With two guys, each of which being multiples times her size and presented age, and only one of her, it was easy enough to figure out what was going to happen. Either one of them would split her in half, if not literally than figuratively, and her inner masochist pined to see how much abuse her tiny body could endure.

Spinning and falling on her knees, she crawled over to the reptilian stud. “What’s your name, mister?”

“Just call me Buck,” he mused while flopping his cock up and over the waistband of his underwear.

Irrespective of whether Buck was his actual name or not, he had quite the fine piece of equipment. Unlike a pony’s stallionhood, having the form of a battering ram, the dragon’s length was that of a cruel spear. With a pointed tip, ridged underside, and a knotted, girthy base, the slick, savage cock practically begged to be sucked.

“Uncle Buck,” she tittered, “let me say hello to your big friend here…”

Shaka scrunched his snout as Sahira rose onto her knees and began nursing on the head of Buck’s cock. Everything was going perfectly, yet he found himself displeased - so displeased that he almost forgot about his videographic duties. Idly jacking himself off with his free hand, he walked over to get a better view of the action.

Growling quietly, Buck pulled the brim of his hat downward. “Ain’t gonna post that anywhere ~ are ya?”

“Naw,” Shaka responded, maintaining his southern drawl. “Just felt like makin’ a home movie.”

“Shit - I can appreciate that,” Buck clucked. “Little bitch got a nice muzzle on her, I’ll give her that.”

“She’s well trained,” Shaka noted while keeping the camera on her face.

Buck laughed as he hunched over and closed his hands around her ears. “If that’s the case…”

Inching back, Shaka balked as Buck began ruthlessly rutting her face. Sahira tried to resist, pushing against his thighs with all her might, but her efforts meant nothing in the face of the portly, boorish dragon. Unsure of what to do, other than to keep the film rolling, he ground his teeth together.

She had it coming - actually, she’d earned far worse than a harsh throat swabbing from some tubby dragon, although the sight of her being used so violently struck a nerve with him. She was his rival and plaything, and he was the only creature on the planet who was allowed to mistreat her. As his lust became tempered by anger, his blood gradually boiled.

“Fuckin’ - Nnnf - little slut,” Buck snarled. “Hope you’re playing with that tight little pussy of yours, because I’m fixin’ to wreck the hell out of -”

“Ahem…” Shaka coughed and brought the dragon to a standstill. “I said a turn - meaning you can have her once I’m done with her.”

Staring dead at him, Buck kept his grip on Sahira while half his shaft was sheathed in her snout. “That right?”

“That’s right,” Shaka growled. “Now if you’d be so kind as to wait your turn, I’ll finish up.”

Buck didn’t say a word, but the scorn in his eyes was palpable. “Fine. Hope ya don’t mind if I watch,” he huffed. Taking hold of the back of her skull, he pulled her off his dick and roughly shoved her over to Shaka’s feet. “Don’t take too long, little thing, ol’ Buck’s pent up and hankerin’ to cream that nasty little twat of yours up.”

Pushing herself up, Sahira glared up at Shaka. “Why’d you stop him?”

Shaka leered down at her in disgust. She was mad that he’d stopped Buck, there was no other explanation for it, and now she was having a tantrum and making him look bad. Strolling past her and scooping her up, he turned and rested his back on the wall by the sinks. In light of how he’d intervened and called first dibs on her, and that there was another pair of hands available on the scene, he could give her just what she wanted.

“Hey,” he grunted while holding the camera out to Buck. “Do ya mind?”

“S’long as I can get a copy once you’re done,” Buck grouched. Taking and inspecting the contraption, he snorted. “Ain’t that used to using these things.”

“Just look through the viewfinder,” Shaka explained. Lifting Sahira into the air and turning her upside down, he spun her around to face him. “You want it rough?”

She beamed up at him and nodded. “Yeah…”

Lowering her to his goods, he held her aloft by the thighs. “Then open wide.”

Since there was nothing in the nonexistent rules that said he couldn’t star in the porn being made, and because he wasn’t going to get shown up by some loutish dragon, he had no objections with taking center stage. Feeling Sahira’s lips brush against his flare, he forced her downward. Her gullet constricted around him, she writhed and squirmed in his clutches, and a gout of climactic nectar surged from her upturned marehood as he plunged into her stomach.

It wasn’t especially rare for him to see the results of his size, witnessing the outline of his stallionhood within the abdomen of a mare, but this was the first time he’d watched it happen from oral. Her cute little navel changed from an innie to an outie as his dick rearranged her guts. As much as he’d like to say that she was in agony from such a monumental intrusion, the truth of the matter was that she was more than likely loving every second of her mistreatment.

“Make sure you get this,” he whispered, nodding down to her belly.

“Hot damn - that’s some fucked up shit,” Buck guffawed. “Don’t kill the bitch before I fuck her!”

Shaka bit his tongue while he used her like a fleshlight. Speaking too freely could court a conversation he had no desire to have with Buck - plus Sahira was the sort of crafty mare who could and in all likelihood would use anything he said against him. Should she discover that his covetousness had been at fault for him taking her from the dragon, he’d never hear the end of it.

Gazing at hot spring that was her sex, he bucked into her face while slamming her nose against his swaying balls. It took a special sort of masochist who delighted in being what was in effect tortured, yet she’d already cum once just from getting her throat swabbed. Keeping his shaft buried in her snout, he held her in place until she started to panic and thrash about.

Though her durability was unimaginable, she still had fundamental requirements - chief amongst which being air. Choking her on his dick, he mentally counted the seconds while pulling her legs apart. Letting her pass out would be a mercy she wouldn’t receive, not after all the tribulations she’d put him through, and that was only one trick he had up his sleeve.

He rutted her until she’d climaxed another two times, allowing her to think she was getting the best of him, then slowed and spun her around his stallionhood. “Buck, you want some?”

Stepping out of his pants, Buck eyed her hungrily. “Thought you’d never ask.”

“I’ve heard she loves anal,” Shaka mused. “How’s about you wreck her ass so badly that she’s farting cum for a week.”

Sahira gave a muffled protest around Shaka’s cock-head and attempted to kick her legs. Oh this was going to be fun. She’d commented about having her ass knotted prior to jamming his face in her tush, and now it was time to see if little claim about having a budding fondness for anal was true. Bringing his hands up her sides and under her arms, he lowered her lower half toward Buck.

“One hole’s as good as another,” Buck joked. Taking her by the legs, he stepped between her spindly thighs and wavered. “Mind if the little butt-slut sucks me clean after we’re done?”

Roaring in laughter, Shaka nodded. “Be my guest, I’m sure she’d love to polish you up before you leave.”

Shaka set to rutting her face while Buck eased himself into her behind. He felt her teeth and watched her face contort in discomfort, but she didn’t bite down - she knew better than that. She was acutely aware that the depths of his depravity weren’t far behind her own, and that he could easily make her plight far more unpleasant than it already was.

“Fuck me,” Buck groaned while he crammed his cock in her. “Could’a fooled me that she’s into takin’ it up the ass, because this bitch is tight.”

“She told me she liked it,” Shaka clucked.

Driving every inch of his shaft down her gullet, he felt something rigid bump against the tip of his length. Whatever he’d bumped against hadn’t been there minutes before, and she hadn’t swallowed anything, so the development gave him a moment for pause. As he leaned over and looked at her, stumped as to what was going on, the thing in her guts withdrew when Buck rolled his hips back.

He fiendishly cackled when it dawned on him. He and Buck, as well as their respective endowments, were hulking by any metric, and their cocks had touched within her. What he would have given to see what was happening to her organs and to hear her thoughts. Anypony else would have been dead or hospitalized already, the insertion alone wreaking havoc on them, but she was going to weather every vehement second of being spit-roasted, whether she liked it or not.

Falling into a steady rhythm, he watched as his medial ring popped in and out of her mouth. Things couldn’t have gone better for him, and the best part was that the night was still young. Should fortune smile upon him, Buck would only be the first visitor that they had that evening - better yet was that she’d have to put up with everything until he’d personally bred her cunt. While he basked in the sensation of her vice-like throat around his stallionhood, his imagination ran wild with possibilities.

Sahira screwed her eyes closed as she was stuffed from both ends. Having an arm-sized stallionhood sliding down her gullet wasn’t a problem for her, she’d done it plenty of times with partners in the past, but her ass - her ass was another issue entirely. The incantation that prevented her from prematurely expiring or sustaining serious injury was far from perfect - mostly because it only kept her from slipping from meeting her demise.

Her intestines were crushed and resized, acting as a slippery sleeve for Buck’s colossal cock, while her esophagus was resized. Shaka, that scoundrel, wasn’t as vile as she’d thought - he was worse. The played her vital functions like a maestro, capitalizing on her unwilling gasps and need for air, and he wouldn’t permit her to lose consciousness.

Once again, history had repeated itself. She couldn’t stop Shaka or Buck, she’d be spending more time using the cushioned donut she’d invested in to sit down, and she’d probably be limping about like a wizened crone for a week or better, but she’d be damned if that was going to stop her. Fixating on the mingled pleasure and pain encompassing her existence, she lifted an arm, ran her hand down her side over her hip, and reached for her nethers.

Like lightning, Shaka dropped snatched her elbows and wrenched her arms behind her back. “No you don’t…”

Raw fury coursed through her. Torturing her and making a wizard’s sleeve from her once taut pucker was low, although denying her the right to rub her criminally vacant, all but untouched cunt was just plain mean - cruel even! While she was completely capable of cumming as much as she wanted, she’d have to do so from her ass and snout alone.

In a desperate act, she twisted her torso and pointed to her chest. “H…hlk!”

Shaka eyed her nipple, smiled, and leaned forward. “No…”

He was going to pay for this - if she had to spend eons concocting the perfect vengeance to wreak upon him, claw her way out of the abyss, and drag his soul back to the earthly plane to settle the score, she’d do it gladly. As he pulled back and brought his flare back into her maw, he flexed his groin. Gouts of pre-cum shot and dribbled from her sinuses, clogging her nostrils and further ruining the makeup she’d so painstakingly put on, while she impotently seethed.

“Damn - see, that’s just rude,” Buck mumbled. Still plowing her tush, he slid a hand up and to her marehood. “Gotta be a little forgiving ~ ya know?”

Her eyelids fluttered and her hair stood on end. Buck was a slovenly, oafish creature, that much was obvious, yet he had at least one redeeming quality. The added bit of bliss tipped the scales a hair, just enough to soothe her frazzled nerves and give her what she craved. Arching her back and clenching with all her might, causing her g-spot to be caressed by the thick, draconic dick in her rear, she rocketed toward release.

Shaka’s gut and groin dominated her vision, although she could picture the scene easily enough. Two studs, a dragon and a zebra stallion, double-teaming a poor, innocent filly. Should they be happened upon by anypony, be it a royal guard or somepony with a functioning ethical compass, the exchange surely be brought to an end - however, it was possible that any newcomers would wish to join in the hedonism. Wondering if the trucker was the first of many to sate themselves with her, she came.

Lost in a mental fog of misery and ecstasy, she rocked forward and back between the pair. The tryst’s costs would be high, and that was if Shaka freed her after one night, but that was part of the fun. Would she be required to only serve adults? Was he going to peddle her horny, hormonal colts at a local school? What if he brought her to another kennel? Each novel concept was more enchanting than the last, and they drove her from one orgasm to another.

The climaxes she suffered weren’t the best she’d ever had, yet they fulfilled their purpose by passing the time. Being overpowered and used like a sex-toy was a bit of a double-edged sword - yes, the powerlessness could be tantalizing, although too much of a good thing was rarely enjoyable. Without the ability to speak, move, or even breathe freely, she couldn’t reciprocate her lovers’ passion.

“You close?” Buck asked.

Though Shaka didn’t respond, she felt his stallionhood gradually flaring. They must have been going at it for quite some time, because he wasn’t one to cum quickly - that or he harbored some hidden desire for very young mares. As he and Buck went all out, thrusting so hard that her spine bowed, her toes curled.

It was a photo finish, with the pair climaxing nearly in tandem, and it was disastrous. With her snout and ass plugged, the tsunami of seed rushing into her had nowhere to go. Her stomach gurgled in protest, jizz seeped from her stretched pucker and past her lips, and she felt much, much heavier than she should have.

Shaka unsheathed himself first, hauling his still throbbing stallionhood from her snout to paint her face and upper half, while Buck deposited every drop of his spunk in her ass. Hanging her head and gasping for breath, she gasped. Her formerly flat belly had ballooned to the size of a beach ball, making her appear absurdly pregnant, although the sight of herself was fleeting.

No sooner did she wretch, unable to contain the roiling contents in her bowels, than Buck released her. She crashed to the floor and vomited cum from both ends, coating the tiles and herself in the studs sticky, viscous essence. While her actions were wholly involuntary, they wounded her pride and hindered her enjoyment of what should have been an incredible experience.

Tapping the toe of one boot against her, Buck grimaced. “I think we might’ve overdone it…”

“Nah,” Shaka sighed. “She’s like a roach - masochistic as hell and a glutton for punishment.”

His assertion wasn’t wrong, but it grated on her nerves. With the contents of her depths mostly voided, she pushed herself up on one arm and wiped her snout. There was one thing she wanted to test, a theory that had shone through when she was getting her brains rutted out, and now she had an opportunity to test it.

Getting onto her knees, she crept to and behind Buck. She didn’t have to eat his ass, but choosing him over Shaka would be a fine way to slyly spit in the stallion’s eye. As she came around to his vast, scaled rear and lifted his tail, a series of heavy footfalls drew nearer.

“None of that,” Shaka fumed. Taking a fistful of her dreadlocks, he whipped her around and pressed her muzzle to his crotch. “Me first, then him.”

“Yesh, daddy,” she slurred while mopping his slickened shaft with her tongue.

She’d lost much, from her tattered attire to being able to relish sauntering around with a cum-bloated tummy, although what she’d gained was even more valuable. On some level, Shaka was covetous of her. He wanted to keep her for himself, viewing her as his to devastate, and she was going to put that information to good use.

Tilting her head back, she peered up at him with a grin. Her mirth was not returned, with his face as stoic and unreadable as ever, yet she could virtually see the glint of aggravation in his eyes. While she continued to lick his softening stallionhood, the sound of coins hitting the tiled floor echoed throughout the chamber.

“That enough?” Buck asked, having tossed some bits at Shaka’s feet.

Shaka nodded. “For one round, yes. If you have any friends who are in the area and in need of some relief, I may consider giving you a discount.”

“Soon as the little cock-sucker polishes my junk, I can get a few on the horn,” Buck chuckled. “Hear that, cutie? You’re gonna have plenty of company tonight!”

Closing her eyes, she snickered. It may have been preemptive, and it would be a while until she was able to pull it off, but the foundations for a scheme had been laid. Since Shaka treasured having her all to himself, she’d give him more than he could ever handle…

Chapter 10

Shaka’s eyes meandered across the expansive chamber, while sounds of the diners gathered around him drifted to his ears. With a disgruntled grunt, he turned his wrist and checked the time. As he turned his attention to the entryway, his annoyance waxed in strength.

It would be insulting for anypony to stand him up and make him wait, especially after he’d donned his finest suit, yet he was scarcely surprised by the tardiness of his expected company. Steepling his fingers and knitting his brow, he leered at the door. He would have left long before now, abandoning his seat and storming out without saying a word - regrettably, excusing himself would be counterintuitive.

Strutting in and surveying the interior, turning her head and looking from one table to another, a familiar figure appeared. She was immaculately dressed, adorned in a cocktail dress and made up as though she were going out on a romantic date, but her beauty was only skin deep. While everypony in the restaurant may have assumed she was a respectable, well-groomed mare, he knew the truth.

Rocking back, he grimaced up at her as she approached. “You’re late.”

“Fashionably late,” she tutted. Seating herself across from him, she reached out and lovingly caressed his forearm. “You look well.”

What would otherwise be an innocuous compliment held teeth. When last she’d seen him, he’d been a broken, heavily-bruised mess heaped atop his bed. Coldly recalling the state she’d left him in, barely able to stand and with at least one fractured rib, he coolly smiled. Her parting gift had been a potion to heal and restore him, a spiteful offering, but it had served its purpose.

He held her gaze as he folded his arms across his chest. “My thanks. I’m both obliged and compelled to say that you look particularly ravishing yourself.”

“Why thank you,” she giggled. Practically preening, she flipped her dreadlocks away from her face. “Shall we continue this little charade or would you like to tell me why I’ve been invited to such an esteemed establishment?”

With a small snort, he looked over her shoulder and nodded. “Be coy.”

She subtly twisted her head and glanced back. “The stallion who’s pretending not to look at us?”

“Yes, but there are more,” he affirmed, keeping his voice low. “Our exploits of late have made quite the stir…”

“As well they should,” she tutted, crossing her arms beneath her modest bust. “I’m a bit surprised that the video of me crushing your pelvis gained more attention than the one of you despoiling a hellhound at that dog show.”

“I’ll…” He cut himself off, pinched the bridge of his snout, and took a slow, measured breath. “It’s not unexpected that a more conventional pairing performs better than such a depraved act.”

Extending a leg beneath the table, she rubbed her foot along the side of his calf. “Perhaps for uninitiated and conformists, although I prefer more exotic material myself.”

“My point is that we’re making names for ourselves that do us a disservice,” he growled. “Should we continue on this nihilistic path, we’ll both be pursued in ways ill-fitting of our trades.”

Though he’d only met her a few short months prior, his reputation had taken a considerable blow. Where once ponies would only seek him out for wrathful, oftentimes petty matters that involved the dark arts, he’d had no fewer than a dozen mares and a handful of stallions come to him for erotic services. There was nothing wrong with engaging with the occasional visitor, but he would not suffer the indignity of becoming known as a whore.

He shook his head and grimaced at her. “Do you not concur?”

“I must confess, I do not,” she sighed. “After all the fun we’ve been having with one another, I’ve considered becoming an actress.”

“Porn stars aren’t actresses,” he hissed.

“I respectfully disagree,” she countered. “Convincingly faking an orgasm isn’t nearly as easy as many think it would be.”

Nearly drawing a hand over his face out of frustration, he smiled. “I should hope that wasn’t the case with me.”

“Shaka, you cut me to the quick!” she gasped. “I would never feign the throes of ecstasy with you - besides, I never had any need to,” she continued. Leaning in and propping her chin on one hand, she pulled at her top to reveal one obsidian nipple. “Is that what this is really about? Would you like to throw me on the table and have your way with me in front of all these fine ponies?”

His traitorous stallionhood twitched within its pants, stirring from its slumber, while he massaged his temples. “This is going nowhere.”

“For you,” she tittered. “I’m soaking wet right now.”

“This is going nowhere,” he groaned. “You did actually read the letter I sent you ~ did you not?”

She shrugged and ran her toes around his knee and to his inner thigh. “I did, yes, and I was - am positively heartbroken that you’d wish to bring our game to an end.”

At most, her claim was a half-truth. She’d been toying with the notion of speaking with him about their increasingly bawdy meetings since their previous escapade. As thrilling as it would be to officially enter the world of adult entertainment, particularly because Zebrican mares were a rarity in the field, it wouldn’t be quite as rewarding as her craft - on top of that, she’d prefer not to be beholden to set schedules and generally lackluster stallions who starred in such films.

“Not an end,” he corrected, “an alternative approach.”

Reclining, she cocked her head. “That being?”

“Henceforth, we’ll have a more civil competition,” he noted. “Any future engagements will revolve around mutually agreed upon challenges that, while undoubtedly debased, won’t as severely impact our respective characters.”

“Wanting to run around on me already?” she pouted. “Shaka, I’m wounded to think that I’m not enough for you.”

She may have concealed it well, but she’d had a similar idea herself. The memories of other, lesser creatures could be easily manipulated or outright erased, and there they didn’t have to upload any videographic evidence of their amorous antics to the internet - if they did, it would be easy enough to censor their faces and defining features. As she pondered on how lucrative it would be to sell recordings of them plowing or being plowed by various denizens of Equestria, a wolfish smile split her muzzle.

Taking her hand in his, he nodded. “It’s the only way, my sweet, for both our sakes.”

Blood rushed to her cheeks and loins, prompting her to pull away. Her feelings for him were conflicting. On one hand, taking him as her personal, permanent plaything would be phenomenal - on the other, being kept on edge, never knowing when he would strike or what he would do to her, was riveting. Controlling her breathing and willing her blush to dissipate, she shifted in her seat.

“On one condition,” she murmured. “We shall savor one another’s company no less than twice a week.”

“Once a week,” he groused.

She locked eyes while her expression hardened. “Twice. If we’re mingling with common rabble, neither of us would be satisfied otherwise.”

A fleeting look of remorse or possibly resigned understanding flitted across his face. “We can discuss the minutia later - for now, let us agree that there’ll put an end to the mutually assured destruction.”

“Are we speaking physically or mentally,” she teased. Seeing his irritation, she patted his arm. “That was a joke - but, yes, I suppose we could change things up.”

Offering an open hand, he warmly grinned. “Then we have an accord?”

She looked from his hand to his face and back again, snickered, then unseated herself. “My most cherished Shaka, simply shaking on such a pact won’t do! Allow me to get us a drink to commemorate our treaty. Let me guess ~ a whisky sour?”

“Too right,” he chuckled. “Rye, if you’d be so kind.”

“Spicy,” she hummed. “That sounds perfect. Wait right here, my love, I’ll be right back.”

Weaving her way past tables full of patrons, she wandered to the bar at the far end of the restaurant. The change of pace with Shaka would be interesting, she’d freely confess that much, although she wasn’t going to set her hopes too high. Zebras were better in bed than nearly any creature in existence, in her experience, and she’d be willing to wager that many of their impending contests would leave her unsatisfied in a fleshly regard.

Coming up to the bar, she rapped her knuckles on the wooden surface. “Two whisky sours please.”

The bartender, a pegasus mare, glanced over to Shaka. “You with him?”

“What gave you that impression?” she sweetly asked.

“Just a guess,” the mare said with a grunt. She began to assemble the components, resting an egg, lemon, and bottle of amber simple syrup on the counter, and faltered when she turned to the arrangement of liquors on the wall behind her. “Don’t see many Zebricans around, so I figured you two were together. Preference of spirit?”

“Rye,” Sahira tranquilly responded. “A single malt, if you have it.”

The move was furtive, the sort of thing that could have easily passed by all but the most observant of creatures, but the bartender had just given herself away. There was a slight tremor in the mare’s hands, she’d ignored two other potential customers to tend to her, and the lemon she’d selected had been placed apart from the others. Something fishy was going on, and it wasn’t hard to deduce whom was involved.

After pouring the first drink, the pegasus placed it on the counter. “One for your stallion friend,” she remarked while filling and presenting the second glass, “and one for you.”

“Aaaah - you mean the one you just drugged,” Sahira apathetically noted. Taking her cocktail and bringing it to her nose, she gave it a sniff. “For the record, I’m sorry he roped you into this.”

The mare stiffened as a cold bead of sweat rolled down her brow. “I…I don’t k…know what you’re t…talking -”

“Don’t be so modest,” she interrupted. “The way you ran your thumb around the rim of my glass was subtle that you hardly had to try and distract me with his drink to keep me from noticing - that said, I did notice,” she softly stated. Pulling several bits from the purse hanging from her shoulder, she paid for the drinks and left a generous tip. “Keep the change, darling, and do practice your poker face.”

The only remarkable thing about Shaka’s attempt to spike her drink was how droll it was, but she wasn’t angry with him - quite the opposite, she was elated with his adorable little ploy. With all the poisons and elixirs she’d taken over the years, systematically desensitizing a wide array of toxins, testing her system against whatever substance he’d concocted would be entertaining. As he eyed the cocktails, almost assuredly ensuring she didn’t switch him, her suspicions were cemented.

She retook her seat, lifted the glasses, and whispered two words. “Ifẹkufẹ gidigidi…”

Peaking a brow while she offered him his drink, he glared at her. “And that was…?”

“Let’s call it insurance,” she merrily replied. “Enlighten me, Shaka, what did you have that cute little mare rim my glass with.”

He stared her dead in the eyes, unflinching, and smirked. “An exceptionally powerful aphrodisiac of my own making. It will…”

Turning her glass up, she downed the drink in two gulps. “Not to be rude, but I’ve heard enough. I’m sure it will drive me mad with lust and have me surrender myself to anypony and everypony who so much as casts an eye in my direction. To answer your unasked question, that little curse I cast on our drinks will do the same for the both of us. Should you refuse, I wouldn’t be…”

He held up a finger as he finished his cocktail. “Go on.”

“Shaka, you are an absolute delight,” she laughed.

They gazed at one another and smiled. While unsaid, the tainted drinks had simultaneously curried favor with one another and guaranteed a very interesting evening for the both of them, although they weren’t finished with each other. Shaka lifted his head, filling his lungs while his skeletal structure began to glow faintly beneath his coat, as Sahira filled her lungs.

“Aise ife gidigidi,” she bellowed, her words reverberating with preternatural strength.

Shaka exhaled, remaining silent. Green, unnatural smoke billowed from his nostrils and open maw, spilling to the floor and spreading throughout the restaurant. Everypony froze, going rigid as they were struck with not one but two powerful spells in tandem. A single enchantment from either one of the shamans would have been enough to wreak havoc amongst the throng, so the twin onslaught was more than most could bear.

Several ponies collapsed, convulsing and spontaneously climaxing so hard that they lost consciousness, although the majority began masturbating or setting upon one another. It was a charnel house of debauchery, and at the eye of the maelstrom, calm and relatively undisturbed, sat Shaka and Sahira. Though the duo were far more composed than everypony else, they were anything but immune to the forces at play.

Acting in concert, they hurled themselves at one another. Their classes, complimentary hors d'oeuvres, and pitcher of water clattered to the floor as their bodies entwined. While their clothes were rent asunder, torn from them by their clawing hands, the sounds of bliss from all around them grew into a din.

Sahira sank her nails into his back and drove her tongue into his muzzle. The supernatural heat she’d induced was exacerbated by the bewitched fumes in her lungs and the noxious compounds swirling about in her belly. Sensing what could only be Shaka’s bulge grind against her crotch, she groaned.

Pushing himself away, Shaka broke the kiss. “Wait…”

“For what?” she demanded. Tugging her panties aside, she fingered herself. “If you don’t take care of this, somepony else will.”

“Isn’t that the point?” he contested. “Instead of carrying on old habits and indulging with one another, wouldn’t it be better if we turn the page and have a fresh start?”

She wanted - by the abyss, she wanted to argue with him, but he was right. They’d kicked off an orgy of apocalyptic proportions, with ponies of all ages succumbing to their desires, and not taking full advantage of that would stymie what was supposed to be do-over for them. Having called down the thunder, and sharing the same idea, it was time for them to reap the whirlwind.

“Shall we?” he began, standing and motioning to one side.

Rising from her seat, she turned and sauntered to the table he’d waved at. “Pardon the interruption ~ by chance, are you two married?”

The pair, a unicorn stallion and earth pony mare respectively, were far too preoccupied with themselves to give any appreciable response. Smiling idiotically at one another, they feverishly got themselves off while giggling like love-struck teenagers. Though they were only capable of softly groaning and panting, the rings they wore were telling.

“Upsy-daisy - yes, there we go,” Sahira urged as she guided the stallion up and turned him around. Pushing him back, she shoved him off his feet and onto the table. “Dearest, would you be so kind to - oh…”

She’d been moments from instructing Shaka to bend the wife over the table, but he was well ahead of her. Stepping behind what was presumably the stallion’s wife or fiancée, he lifted the pony’s skirt and ripped the panties from her waist. Not to be outdone, she put herself to task.

“What’s your name?” she inquired while she unzipped the stallion’s pants.

“T…Timber,” the stallion sputtered.

Straddling him, smoothly hilted herself on him. “I can see why, what with this fine wood you’re sporting,” she teased. “And is this fine creature your wife?”

Timber peered upward as Shaka repositioned the mare and situated her groin just over his face. “M…my fiancée, Dreamer…”

“I’m sure she’ll be dreaming of this for many nights to come,” Shaka joked while he steadily sank his length into her.

The placement of the couple couldn’t be perfect. Timber was on his back, his head directly between his lover’s knees, while Dreamer was bent over with her face inches from her to-be hubby’s crotch. Whether or not the pair had foregone the age-old tradition of saving themselves for one another was and would remain a mystery - regardless, the bore witness to each other’s despoilment.

Screwing herself on the stallion, Sahira gyrated her hips and rode him like the well-seasoned she was. “He’s a bit too small for my liking.”

“And this one’s far too tight,” Shaka grumbled. “What’s say we help the dearly beloved?”

“Tobi,” Sahira commanded. Timber’s stallionhood swelled and nearly doubled in size, growing just enough to give her g-spot a decent swabbing. “Much better…”

After the rutting that Shaka was giving Dreamer, endowing Timber with a bit more length and girth was the least she could do. Unable to view anything besides the mare’s back, and having no interest in the perversions unfolding around her, she swung her eyes up to her colossal accomplice. It was the first time she’d watched him in action with anypony other than herself, and she had to admit that seeing him plowing somepony was quite the spectacle.

“I…I’m g…gonna - Aaaaaahn!” Dreamer cried out as she quaked and came.
Timber gagged and coughed while he was drowned in his fiancée’s climactic eruption, yet her release heralded more than his inability to breathe. His hands flew to Sahira’s hips, he blindly kicked out with his legs until his feet found the chair he’d been sitting in, and he started thrusting. Just like that, with his betrothed being railed before his very eyes, his true colors shown through.

Hastening her pace, Sahira threw her head back and cackled. “Fucking cuck! Can you believe this pitiful excuse for a stallion?”

Shaka nodded while he slid his hands up to Dreamer’s waist. “Sadly, I can. Shall I knock her up and have them raise my bastard?”

“No,” she spat. “Let them imagine us on their wedding night

While she was inclined to let him sow his seed, Sahira’s envy ultimately won out. The fruit of his loins were hers and hers alone, even if she didn’t mind letting him have his fun with others. Feeling Timber flaring within her, she threw her weight down, sheathed his pulsing shaft, and turned her head from side to side.

“Shame,” Shaka lamented. Giving the mare an affectionate pat on the ass, he increased the speed of his thrusts. “You heard her, don’t go getting knocked up.”

The Zebricans’ savagery was exemplary, and the pony couple stood no chance against them. Surrounded by ponies each other, playing with themselves, or in several cases doing both, the pair were brought to and beyond the threshold of nirvana - several times, in the mare’s case. Seconds passed into minutes and longer still, until Shaka brought an unceremonious end to the affair.

“Just - Mnnn - a bit,” he grunted while unleashing a single rope of spunk into Dreamer’s cunt. Shuffling back, he hauled his prodigious stallionhood free, painted the mare’s back with his cum, and left her to collapse atop her spasming paramour. “Ready?”

With her depths brimming with Timber’s jizz, Sahira got up and disgorged the contents of her sex. “Feel free to clean up as we busy ourselves.”

As Shaka helped Sahira down from her perch, they watched the lovers set upon one another. Neither knew the ponies, only having just met them prior to screwing them, yet they took endless amusement by what they’d wrought. Timber and Dreamer acted like it was their first time together, heedless or uncaring that they were licking and slurping the lecherous juices from two perfect strangers from each other’s nethers.

Shaka reluctantly turned his eyes from the affianced ponies. “Any preferences on -”

“Them,” Sahira rasped. Nodding over to a group of young stallions, all of whom were jacking off to a mare being railed against the bar, she grinned broadly. “If that’s not a good time, nothing is.”

Rolling his eyes, Shaka quickly and conveniently spotted a small gang of mares huddled in one corner. “In that case, let us temporarily part ways.”

“Divide and conquer?” Sahira posited, flashing her teeth at him.

Shaka returned her smirk and offered a hand. “Divide and conquer.”

Heading in opposite directions, the duo separated. There were any number of ways they could sate themselves, being spoiled for choice on whom they toyed with, but they’d made their minds up and chosen their targets. When they reunited, they’d do so with a considerable number of new notches on their nonexistent belts.

“Hello, colts,” Sahira purred. As the five stallions peered up at her, hesitant to abandon the show they’d been engrossed in, she fondled her breasts. “What brings you all here?”

One of the stallions gulped and pointed at a companion situated at the head of the table. “Flash it g…getting married tomorrow.”

Sahira burst into laughter at the revelation. As gleeful as she would have been to potentially throw one relationship into disarray, she getting a second opportunity to do just that! Removing the tattered rags that had been her dress, she spun around to display herself.

“Well then, Flash, how about you cut loose before you throw your life away?” she cooed.

Crawling into the table and up to the soon to be ex-bachelor, she licked her lips. It was unlikely that any of them had ever sampled a zebra mare before, and she’d be delighted - nay, privileged to provide them with an experience that would last them a lifetime. As a number of hands wandered over her body, brushing against her nipples, ass, snatch, and everywhere in between, her marehood winked in anticipation.

“I…I…” Flash croaked. Bolting to his feet, he set his brow and fumbled for his belt. “Buck it…”

She turned in place, rolled onto her back, and splayed her legs. “If the it in question is me, be my guest.”

Wasting no time, Flash stooped down and took her legs over his shoulders. His friends all swiftly followed his lead, scrambling to remove their clothes while jockeying for position with her. There was no way for her to know what they’d ordered or if they’d even eaten already, but she was overjoyed to make herself the main course for the lot of them.

Two stallionhoods found their ways into her hands, a third plunged into her cunt, her muzzle was filled by a fourth, and another, one of a particularly advantageous stud who’d climbed onto her, slid between her tits. The scent of young, virile musk, paired with the ponies’ hunger for her, fanned the flames of her passion into an inferno. They may have thought they had her overwhelmed, outnumbering her seven to one, but they were going to learn the error of their naive ways.

She was a symphony of motion. While she bobbed her head and fellated one stallion, she stroked off two more as she clenched around Flash’s wildly pistoning length. Though she couldn’t see more than the one pony’s crotch and lower abs, keeping her head turned to one side to properly suck him off, she could feel that somepony had been inspired or desperate enough to free her left leg and use the crook of her knee to pleasure himself.

The overwhelming might of their zeal was enough to give her what she yearned for. She came after a short while, moments after Flash had creamed her up and stepped aside for one of his friends to take his place, and the climax was the first of many. With a pair of hands clamping shut around her snout, holding her steady as a steaming load flowed down her gullet, her eyelids fluttered.

Honestly, it was hard to choose between having one, supremely capable lover or a harem to make use of her. One could argue that having a single, well-hung stud was the superior option - then again, being taken by multiple stallions concurrently did have an appeal all its own. Giving into her urges, she waited until the stallion who’d been rutting her face pulled clear of her muzzle.

“Hold on,” she sweetly but firmly clucked. Twisting onto her side and sliding tush to the very corner of the, she reached back and prized her buns apart. “Got one more hole for you colts.”

The prospect of getting to fuck her ass virtually caused the studs to come to blows. Bickering and posturing turned to a scuffle. Their enthusiasm would have been endearing, had she not been on the cusp of another orgasm. With her lip curling, her merriment became tarnished with disdain.

“Da jiyàn ati ki o ni ibalopo pẹlu mi,” she barked.

Each of the stallions snapped to attention, enslaved by her words, and ceased their squabbling. Commanding them was less than ideal, effectively making them mindless, meaty automata, but it would suffice. While they took their places and got back to business, fucking her fists, mouth, pussy, and behind, she gave an exasperated, choked groan.

The earthly sensations were all there, making her feel good on a fundamental level, yet their thoughtless, mechanical motions left much to be desired. Casting a glance to the side, she peered across the room. Be it from happenstance, fate, or something else altogether, the sight of Shaka being fawned over by the band of fair, nubile mares made her blood boil.

Envy lanced through her. Shaka would have brought her to her knees in ecstasy many times over by now, even without the use of his magic, but she’d foolishly abandoned him in search of something novel. Forcing herself to feign rapture, she writhed and loudly moaned while servicing her newfound admirers.

Though he had no reason to do so, it took everything Shaka had not to scowl. The mares he’d found had been eager to please him, making out around his stallionhood, worshiping his coin purse, and kissing his chest, yet they offered no comfort. They wanted him for his body, viewing him as an object or prize to be won, and nothing more.

He was disgusted not only with Sahira for enjoying herself as she served a half-dozen stallions but with himself. This wasn’t right, he didn’t get jealous of anypony for anything - nevertheless, he was resentful that he wasn’t the one putting the insufferable sow in her place. There was nothing he could do to intervene without jeopardizing his pride and making himself appear weak, but he was still able to launch a counteroffensive.

“Yes, my sweets,” he rumbled, stroking two of the mares’ shoulders and pulling them into a hug, “you’ll all get a turn. Which of you would like to go first?”

To his astonishment, spurred by the innocent question, the mares outright attacked one another like feral animals. Bitter curses and hurled insults were joined by raking nails, slaps, and mane pulling as the gaggle of harlots fought for him. What had been something funny, observing Sahira having to charm her devotees with her sorcery, had turned into a bitterly poetic joke.

Shooing the trollops away, he turned his gaze from Sahira and pushed her from his mind. He was perfectly capable of keeping himself preoccupied, and leaving a lasting impression as he did so. As one of the floozies inserted herself between him and the bar, arching her back and wiggling her tush, his spirits lifted slightly.

“As good as any,” he halfheartedly conceded.

Sidling behind her and grabbing the dock of her tail, he nonchalantly and languidly set to fucking her. The snugness of her cunt was virginal, so taut that it may well have been her first time having sex, and her piercing howl of bliss was music to his ears. Though he was tentatively pleased with himself and his little mate, there was another issue to address.

Turning his sights to the quarreling groupies, he cleared his throat. “Unless you want me to forsake you all, put yourselves to use.”

The mares, excluding the one he was currently banging, flung themselves at him. While they fantastically did anything they could to impress him, he gave a brutal plunge and breached the mare’s inner gate. Her voice raised above the pandemonium of the room as she peaked, marking him as a premier stud who was capable of delivering unimaginable bliss.

When life gave you lemons, make lemonade - the saying was a universal truth. He’d had no plans to ensconce himself with a sex party involving families, couples, and restaurant staff when he’d left his home earlier that afternoon, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t willing and completely able to flaunt his stuff. He’d intimidated almost every Equestrian he’d ever met, and laying waste to the group of young mares would separate the wheat from the chaff in the restaurant.

He finished with the initial mare in a matter of minutes, rutting her so mercilessly that she blacked out and collapsed to the floor in a squirting, climaxing heap, then moved on to the next. The ponies fell before him like wheat before a scythe, yielding no challenge or resistance as they were laid low from his bitch-breaking cock, immaculate technique, and staggering strength. It was only when he felt something caress his ass that his sensual slaughter faltered.

Turning and peeking over his shoulder, he found a pony kneeling behind him. “May I help you?”

“I...I w…was - um…” the pony, a svelte stallion from the looks of it, shot a glance to his rump.

Shaka guffawed. “By all means - in fact, if you do an exceptionally good job, I might have a roll with you after I’m done with her!”

Giving the nameless mare he was screwing a slap on the ass, he emphasized his point. What a pleasantly unexpected surprise! It had been - goodness, at least a year since he’d received a mid-coitus rimming! Widening his stance a bit for the demure little femcolt, he flicked his tail to the side.

“And I thought I was bad…”

“Sahira, I was wondering when you’d come back for a genuine fucking,” he chuckled, having instantly recognized her voice. “Were those colts not stimulating enough for you?”

She hopped onto the bar, took one of the semi-conscious mares by the mane, and leg locked the poor pony to her loins. “What do you think? Ran through seven of them like they were nothing.”

“This is my…” He paused while he did a quick tally. “This is my sixth?”

“Amateur,” Sahira snorted.

Watching the mare lapping mouthfuls of cum from Sahira’s snatch, Shaka jackhammered into the pony he was rutting. “If we’re counting every time we’ve made somepony cum, I’m at seventeen -”

“Aaaaaaaaaaah!”

Shaka beamed. “Make that eighteen.”

The look of scorn on her face was delicious, bringing him closer to his limit than the entire troupe of mares he’d gone through. For him, sex was like most things in life - it only had value if it took effort. Had he been the sort of stallion who just wanted to get his dick wet with anypony, he could be swimming in pussy at every hour of the day and night. More absorbed by his nemesis being eaten out than by the pony he was indifferently screwing, he scrunched his snout.

“There a problem?” Sahira muttered.

Withdrawing his dick from the nameless mare, he shook his head. “I didn’t realize you swung both ways.”

“Says the stud with a colt eating his ass,” she rebutted. Her eyes widened and she abruptly straightened up. “Would you like to share him?”

He twisted and gazed down at the small stallion lavishing his backside. “Him?”

Kicking the mare aside and onto the pile of her groaning, quivering friends, he made some room atop the bar. “Why not?”

Though he dearly wanted to take her up on the offer, he wavered. Just the thought of including her got him fired up, and he’d be stunned if she didn’t feel the same way about him. In defiance of all their differences and their illustrious history, or possibly because of them, they were drawn to one another.

“We can go ass to mouth after we’re done with him,” she sang, sweetening the deal.

“To Tartarus with it,” he conceded. “Here, help me get him into place.”

Sahira skittered from the bar and around to the femcolt’s side. “Nice to meet you - no, we’re not going to bother with names. I presume you’re into stallions?”

The twinish stallion anxiously nodded while looking between her and Shaka. “Y…yes?”

“Not today you’re not,” Sahira tittered. Standing him up, she walked him to the corner of the bar. “I’m going to use you like a dildo while my friend Shaka rearranges your insides. Trust me, when he’s finally done with you, you’ll be farting cum for a week.”

Effortlessly lifting and placing the young stallion on the counter, Shaka laid him back and drifted between his legs. “She’d know.”

“Shaka, you cad,” she bleated. Climbing onto the femcolt into a reverse cowgirl position, she pawed at Shaka’s chest. “Don’t listen to him, whoever you are, he’s a scoundrel.”

“And she’s a harridan,” he wryly interjected.

Casually impaling herself on the young stallion’s rigid, twitching, and wholly lackluster dick, she extended her arms and hugged Shaka’s neck. “Your harridan?”

He leaned in and brought his snout a hair’s breadth from her face. “Like anypony else could handle you.”

Giving no warning, he commenced to railing the femcolt with only a shred of restraint. Given the pony’s size, being no larger than most of the mares he’d run through, he didn’t want to be too rough - be that as it may, his libido could only be shackled for too long. He’d only had a single orgasm since the party had kicked off, his balls were brimming with seed, and Sahira’s spontaneous fortuitous inclusion made it very difficult for him to control himself.

“How you holding up, champ?” Sahira giggled while peering back at the stallion.

With his face contorted in pleasure, biting his lower lip, the femcolt whimpered. “M…mommy!”

Both Shaka and Sahira ground to a halt, looked to one another, and cackled. The sorry little fuckcolt either wasn’t as gay as he thought, had some ingrained complex, or had just discovered a new kink - in any case, he came with a dick in his ass and a pussy hugging his prick. With nothing else to do, apart from their most recent, mutual victim, they locked lips and started to move.

When they were done with the young stallion, leaving him bloated with jizz and slathered with nectar, they selected their next targets. Sometimes they’d work in concert, leveling their efforts on a lucky or unlucky individual - at others, they’d separate to harry their prey. By the time they were sated, with the restaurant looking more like a warzone than an eatery, not a single pony was left standing.

Sahira shuffled to the door, past limp, groaning bodies strewn about tables and on the floor, and patted Shaka’s back. “Nice - Cough - work…”

Wearily nodding, he rested an arm across her shoulders. “You too…”

As they reached the entryway, their eyes met. Neither spoke, merely looking at one another while tiredly smiling, though they understood that reached a crossroads. While she reached up and brushed his sweat-slick mane from his face, he strummed his fingers on her shoulder.

“So…” she breathed. “Want to come back to my place to shower?”

Though it was an enticing offer, he shook his head. “Another time…”

She ran her hand down his arm, undeterred by his rejection, and laced fingers with him. “Your place then?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re a persistent little thing ~ aren’t you?”

“Guilty,” she hummed. “Yes or no. If not, I won’t be too offended.”

Even though he should have known better, he gave in and shrugged. “Sure, but no funny business.”

“And breach the truce we just made? Shaka, you should know better than that,” she purred. Slipping around him, she hugged his side and nodded to the door. “After you.”

He led the way and reached into the pocket of his sullied pants. They looked terrible, their clothes were ruined, and there would definitely be reports filed and questions raised when ponies started gathering their wits and realizing what had happened, but that was of no consequence. The only important thing for either of them was that their competition had entered a new, thrilling phase…