Affectionate Antipathy

“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…”