Guys... can we just, like, talk about this?
It was a warm spring afternoon that found a teenage Pipsqueak in the Sweet Apple Acres barn, resting his head on Macintosh Apple’s hefty testicles. They smelled of sex and sweat and hay, with the barest hint of applewood. Pipsqueak sighed in pleasure.
“Mac, you are the greatest lover I could ask for,” he murmured. “And I am the luckiest bloody colt in all of Ponyville.”
A powerful red hoof came down and ruffled his mane. “Eeyup.”
Pipsqueak had worked with Mac on the farm since he was big enough, had been Mac’s drinking buddy since he came of age, and had been his beloved for almost five months now. They lay there in the hay, letting the afternoon sunlight wash over them. After some time, Pipsqueak shifted, crawling upwards until he could bury his face in Mac’s strong, fuzzy chest and plant kisses on his neck. They wrapped their hooves around each other, and gave each other a comforting squeeze.
“You want to know what I think would be well hot?” said Pipsqueak, after a time of silence.
“Eeyup?”
“A bit of rough," said Pipsqueak. "I’d like you to really take it out of me. You know, biting, spanking, calling me a slutty little mare, tossing me about, giving me a good rogering, all that good stuff.”
Mac nuzzled Pipsqueak’s scruffy mane, inhaling deeply. “Eeyup.”
“I mean, it’d be brilliant if we could get like, five guys your size and you could all make me your slut, but obviously we can’t just—”
“Ah could arrange that.” Mac said it slowly, calmly, as if ordering seed corn.
Pipsqueak looked up, an unbelieving look on his face. “Get out. You’re joking.”
“Nope.”
“You’re serious? You’re serious, bloody hay you are serious.”
“Eeyup.”
A playful grin crossed Pipsqueak’s lips. “You can swing that? Mac, that would be, I mean...” he swallowed, “if you’re okay with it I mean, if you’re not then I wouldn’t want that in a thousand years, but that would be incredibly—”
Mac shushed him with a kiss. Pipsqueak made a soft little noise as the kiss broke, and hugged him harder.
“You’re going to sort it out, then?”
“Eeyup.”
“Mac, you are the greatest.”
“Eeyup.”
* * *
By the end of the afternoon, Mac had arranged everything. The next morning at ten, the pair would meet some friends of his in Steam Room E3 of the Ponyville Spa. Pipsqueak would say a code phrase to start the action, and a safeword to end it. Fun would be had by all.
As it happened, however, Macintosh Apple and Pipsqueak were not in Steam Room E3 of the Ponyville Spa at ten o'clock the next morning. The previous night they had joined Applejack, Caramel, and a bevy of farm workers in an impromptu drinking session, stumbled into bed together in the wee hours of the morning, and woke up long after sunrise with stiff necks and hangovers all-round.
Instead, a young earth pony by the name of Button Mash found himself awkwardly wandering the halls of the Ponyville Spa at five minutes to ten the next morning.
Sweetie Belle, in one of her earnest attempts to drag Button Mash out of his dark room, had insisted he come along. He would have preferred to be modding his second generation Joy Boy with imported beryl circuits or practicing his calligraphy in a second-hoof source codex, but Sweetie was his best friend, the one pony who had shown him the importance of friends and fun and playing in the sun every once in a while, and it was hard to say no to her.
Besides, last time he’d come to the spa with her he’d got a free massage out of it, and loathe as he was to admit it, the massage had been wonderful.
Button’s hooves clacked on ceramic tiles as he looked from door to door. Sweetie had told him to try the sauna while she had her horn filed. She said go to room Steam Room E3, and that she would meet him there afterwards.
...Or had she said Steam Room T3? Button Mash couldn’t quite remember. He had been distracted by thoughts of videogames and the overwhelming smell of cinnamon and the purely platonic kiss on the cheek Sweetie had given him before she was ushered away by the beautician.
It was definitely Steam Room Something-3. B or T or E, he was sure of that. It wasn’t four, though it might have been five? No, he thought. There probably wasn’t even a Steam Room T5 in the whole spa.
He walked up to the door to Steam Room E3. This was it, unless he’d heard her wrong and she’s said smoke room instead of steam room, in which case he’d missed the right room two corridors ago.
“Heh,” he muttered. He was being silly. Even if it was the wrong room, Sweetie knew the place like the back of her hoof. She’d find him soon enough.
Button took a fluffy white towel from the chrome-plated dispenser next to the door, wrapped it around his waist. He pushed down the copper-plated handle, and opened the door. He coughed as a cloud of steam enveloped his head, thick with heat and citrus oils.
It was only after he closed the door behind him that he saw he was not alone in the room.
Four other stallions sat on the wooden benches around the cozy—cramped, even—steam room. They were each twice his age and twice his size. Button Mash swallowed, not only from the odd looks they gave him, but also from that bottom-of-the-pit feeling of being in the wrong place.
He swallowed again. “Uh, is this the right room?” he said, and felt stupid for saying it.
The stallions said nothing to him, though he thought he caught some whispers, perhaps “—him... that’s—” and “—said codeword—” that he couldn’t quite make out.
Before he could turn and leave, the largest of them—a massive pegasus with a dark brown coat, a dirty blond mane, and a face full of stubble—said “Take a seat, kid. You’ve come to the right place.” His voice sounded like gravel made from whisky bottles and cigar butts. He shifted to the side, opening up a space on the bench between himself and an earth pony that was slightly too small for Button Mash to fit in. He patted the space on the bench, beckoning Button to sit.
Button Mash was about to speak up, but thought against it. He’d embarrassed himself before by causing a fuss at the spa—innocent confusion over exactly what a ‘masque facial’ was—and didn’t want a repeat of that episode. The head-spinning intensity of the steam, sweat and essential oils hadn’t worn off yet, and that was surely the reason his heart was beating so fast. Instead of protesting, he approached the seat, turned, and squeezed his rump in between the two older stallions to sit.
There were more murmurs as he sat down, half-laughs and whispers that he might have been able to hear if not for his pulse thudding in his own ears. When he glanced at the ponies around him they looked elsewhere, but he could feel their eyes on him every time he looked away. They weren’t complete strangers at least; he recognised them from around Ponyville. The hulking pegasus worked for the local delivery company, the two sandy-maned, cream-coated earth ponies were train drivers on the Friendship Express, and the grey unicorn with a salt-and-pepper buzz-cut was one of the half-dozen guardsponies of the Ponyville Watch.
If anything, the steam became even more overwhelming. It was mixed in with the smells of all four stallions—clients at the spa were asked to shower before using the steam room as Button had, but they clearly had not. Button Mash could smell the coal dust, ozone and machine oil coming off the train drivers. The one sat next to him had streaks on his face where his sweat had run down through the grime. The grey guard’s coat was matted and damp, and his scent had the subdued, milky tang of sweat that only comes after a heavy workout.
But the pegasus.
The others smelled as if they had worked all day and come directly to the sauna. The pegasus smelled as if he had worked all day, chain smoked in a sweltering office for hours afterwards, drank cheap beer in a gentlecolt’s club for the evening between cigars and lap-dances, slept in his work clothes, and then repeated for three or four days with nary a shower in sight.
If the other three ponies had sharp scents, the pegasus was a bludgeon. The heavy, unyielding stink of body odor was a sledgehammer blow to Button’s senses, followed by the acridity of tobacco smoke and the bitter, garlicky tang of beer breath. The smell radiated off the pegasus in waves. Button Mash coughed from the intensity.
He wondered how long Sweetie Belle would take.
The steam worked its way through his coat and down to his skin. The heat was oddly relaxing, not completely countering the stress of this strange room with these strange stallions, but his breathing slowed and his heart no longer slammed against his ribcage with each beat. He wasn’t sure if the moisture in his coat was the steam or his own sweat.
“Hey. Kid.”
Button Mash squeaked in response, his head snapping round to look at the grey unicorn behind him. A plastic flask was thrust towards him.
“Drink up,” said the stallion, gruffly. “You don’t want to get dehydrated in here.”
“S-sure. Thanks,” stammered Button Mash. He took the flask and drank greedily, as much to avoid any further eye contact as actual thirst. Chilled water flowed down his throat, and sent a tingle through his insides. He turned and returned the flask with a terrified smile. “Thanks,” he said again.
“No problem, kid.”
This was good, thought Button Mash. These stallions obviously didn’t hate him, or think he was intruding. None of the bullies he’d ever known would have offered him a drink and meant it. They weren’t making fun of him after all. The weird looks they kept giving him were probably just his imagination.
His ears perked up as he heard a clicking, scratching sound. The pegasus had a stubby cigar between his teeth, and a lighter between his hooves. The tip of the cigar soon became a cherry-red glow. After sucking on the end, a puff of smoke left the pegasus’ mouth.
Button Mash remembered all of the ‘no smoking’ signs inside the spa, and eyed an identical ‘no smoking’ sign on the back of the steam-room door. He laughed nervously, and said, “Um, are you allowed those things in here?”
The pegasus paused mid-puff. He turned to glare at Button. Button tried to look away, and realized all four stallions were giving him similar looks. He wilted under their collective gaze.
“I um, didn’t mean—”
The stallions burst out laughing.
A meaty hoof slapped down on Button’s back, almost jarring him out of his seat, and another rustled his shoulders.
“I like this kid,” said one of the train drivers, “and he’s right. Put that shit out, Heavy, it stinks!”
The pegasus barked out a laugh and put out the lit cigar on his coat. He looked at Button, a crooked smile on his face. “Sorry. Old habits die hard.”
Button Mash giggled. “N-no problem.” He began to relax. These guys were okay after all.
A hoof landed on his thigh and Button Mash almost jumped out of his skin.
It was the train driver next to him. Button Mash looked at him, but the train driver was looking straight forward, grinning wryly. The hoof gave Button’s thigh a gentle squeeze. Button squirmed, and let out a giggle of sheer terror.
Something here was very not-right.
He had to speak up. It was probably an innocent misunderstanding, but Button Mash had the sense that this was not the kind of misunderstanding that would go away if ignored. Clearly, he needed to say something before this went any further. What could he say? ‘Please sir, take your hoof off my thigh?’ No, too confrontational. ‘Is this normal?’ No, no, what if he said yes? His mind swam as he desperately tried to think of a combination of words that would make this horrifically uncomfortable situation less uncomfortable.
It was a difficult thing to do while distracted. The hoof was trailing up his thigh, towards some sensitive areas, and making him recall his stranger dreams. Weird dreams, dreams with ponies new and familiar, dreams which usually involved Sweetie Belle but often didn’t, and left him with extra laundry to do in the morning.
Fabric rustled, and four stallions around him shifted. They had all taken off the towels around their waists. Each moved from side to side, getting comfortable, hind legs splayed as they sat on the bench. The train driver continued to fondle Button.
Button’s jaw dropped. He was a skinny teenager and not particularly tall, but it still shocked him to see a cock as thick as his foreleg, let alone four of them. The other stallions weren’t even hard, just hanging out of their sheaths, dark and veiny, all with a thin sheen of sweat.
He had to stop this now. Saying something wrong was better than saying nothing at all.
“Hey, guys—”
The second train driver interrupted him. “What’s a pretty mare like you doing in a place like this?”
A blush graced Button’s umber cheeks. “I’m a stallion, n-not a mare,” he protested.
They all laughed. “Nah,” said the train driver, “you’re too fuckin’ pretty to be a stallion.”
All four stallions seemed to press in towards him. He felt a nose on the nape of his neck, hot breath in his mane, gazes so hot that they seemed to sear into his very coat. The hoof on his thigh trailed further upwards, casually brushing away his towel and coming dangerously close to the thing that threatened to bulge out of his sheath at any moment.
“You—mmf!”
The pegasus grabbed his head and silenced him with a kiss. Button’s eyes went wide as the pegasus’ rough stubble rubbed against his chin, and his hard lips pressed into Button’s own. A thick, rough tongue forced its way into Button’s mouth, and he felt powerless to do anything but open his lips and accept it. He squeaked in shock and embarrassment as the kiss continued. The taste of beer and garlic and cigarette ash was overpowering.
The pegasus broke the kiss, and Button found himself lifted up and laid on his back on the bench. He desperately tried to speak up, but his mind raced in circles trying to remember even the most basic of words. Each of the four stallions took a limb, the pegasus and the first driver pinning his forelegs down, and the guard and the second driver spreading his hind legs wide. His towel was whipped away, and he cringed as his half-erect cock flopped onto his stomach, dwarfed by the other stallions’ members.
The guard and the driver each ran a hoof across his rump, playing with his soft, boyish butt-cheeks, pulling them to the side, alternately caressing and squeezing them. He gave a high-pitched yelp as the guard slapped his cutie-mark.
“What’s your name, filly?” asked the guard.
Button Mash squirmed and looked away. “I’m not a filly, my n-name is Button...”
“Button, huh? ‘Cause you’re cute as a button, right? Heh, I like it,” said the guard. “Well, Button, this here is the softest butt I’ve ever laid a hoof on. There ain’t a stallion in Equestria with a butt this soft. You’re all mare.”
In panic and confusion, Button looked down at his slowly-hardening cock. “B-but, I’ve got...”
The guard chuckled. “Oh, that thing? Eh. We’re more interested in the hole...”
In a smooth movement, the guard dipped his head and pushed his muzzle between Button’s butt-cheeks. He inhaled, drinking deeply of Button’s scent, then stuck his tongue out and pressed it to the base of Button’s tail. His rough, thick tongue dragged upwards along his crack, over his tight hole, all the way up to Button’s balls. Button’s legs spasmed from the pure sensation.
The guard gave another long, slow lick, and a third, before placing a soft kiss on the patch of skin between the balls and the asshole. Without raising his head, he murmured, “You taste too fuckin’ sweet to be a stallion. We’ll make a mare out of you, kid, don’t you worry...”
A soft glow fluted along the guard’s horn. Button Mash gasped as he felt something probing between his butt-cheeks. His breath hitched as he felt a tendril of magic stroke his hole. It flicked from side to side, almost ticklish, before working its way in.
A single bead of precum pooled at the tip of Button’s cock, now erect.
Soon, a second tendril joined the first one, probing gently, only pushing an inch inside the still-tight hole. Button tried to cover himself with his tail, but the guard pinned the tail down and began to lap at his balls while he probed him with magic. The tendrils began to work apart, stretching him, encouraging the tight muscles to loosen.
The other three stallions all knelt by Button’s head, their cocks proud and heavy. They slapped their cocks down against his face, making him squirm and yelp, marking him with their musk and sweat. Precum drooled out of all three cocks, and they took great pleasure smearing the salty substance over his lips and eyelids.
One of the train drivers sat back, pulling one of Button’s forehooves towards his crotch. He held the teenager’s hoof in his own and guided it up and down his shaft. “Be a good little filly,” he said, “and give ol’ Booster a hoofjob.”
Button Mash scrunched his eyes tight and moved his hoof up and down the hot, twitchingly-hard pole. He whimpered as he felt a stream of precum run down onto his hoof. The train driver grunted with satisfaction.
Suddenly, everything went dark. Button’s ass was still being stretched apart, he was still jerking off a stallion, but he no longer felt a pair of hard dicks slapping against his face. Instead, something hot and soft and fleshy was pressed against his muzzle.
He opened his eyes and moaned in humiliation as he realized what was happening: the other driver was straddling his face, rubbing his balls on his mouth. The stench of sweat and body odor was all-pervasive, filling his nostrils and soaking into his fur. Button tried to keep his mouth shut, but had to open it enough to breathe when the heavy testicles smothered his nose.
“I’ve been on the tracks all day to get these balls nice ‘n tasty for ya,” said the driver. “Be a good slut and clean them for me.”
Button kept his mouth shut and tried to shake his head, say no, make him stop. All that came out was muffled mumbling.
“What’s that, you can’t get enough of my ass?” said the driver. “Ya should’ve said!”
The driver dropped his weight and wriggled his hips, pushing his ass and balls down harder on Button’s face, shifting from side to side. Button thrashed in panic, his breath cut off, and his face completely soaked in the older stallion’s ass-sweat. The driver lifted his hips, allowing Button to take desperate, gasping breaths.
When his vision came back into focus, the driver’s balls were still dangling over his face. “Suck my balls or breathe my ass,” said the driver, mockingly. “Your choice, slut.”
With a short whimper of shame, Button Mash opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. The balls were immediately lowered, and one filled his mouth completely. They tasted of sharp, insistent salt, mixed with an odd musky sweetness and a bitter hint of coal dust.
Button Mash didn’t know how long he laid there, submissively suckling a stallion’s balls as he gave hoofjobs to two others and had his ass probed by a fourth. The tendrils of magic slipped in deeper, and there seemed to be at least five tendrils inside him now, all stretching and pulsing and pushing. There was a slow, comfortable burn in his butt as he was stretched open, and a certain coolness made him think he was being magically lubricated as well.
The stallion on his face dismounted, and the other three stood up. Button found himself on his back, suddenly bereft of the previous sensations, limbs quaking from fear and exciting. He looked down. His cock was twitching, and a small puddle of precum had pooled on his belly at the tip. He looked up. All four stallions were staring at him with evil grins.
“G-guys can we just, like, talk about this?”
Another kiss shut him up, this time from the guardpony. Where the pegasus' kiss had been rough and overpowering, there was a strange skillfulness to this kiss, the unicorn's tongue and lips working in perfect harmony. It made Button want to kiss back despite himself, his own tongue answering the prompts of this new partner.
One of the train drivers spoke up. "I call dibs on that sweet lil' ass."
"Stoker, you horn dog!" The pegasus looked down at Button Mash and chuckled. "You hear him. Time to make you a mare, sweetheart."
Button giggled in terror as he was rolled onto his front, and wheezed as a weight settled on his back. Something hot and heavy pressed against his ass. He tensed, preparing to be penetrated, but no penetration came. Instead, the pegasus had sandwiched the length of his cock between Button's soft buttocks and was now dry-humping him.
A sand-colored hoof reached under Button's chin, lifting him to face the train driver. He sat back with his hind legs splayed, his cock bobbing between his legs, and presented Button with a tub of coconut oil. "I ain't goin' in dry, kid. Lube me up."
He took Button's hoof and dipped it into the coconut oil, and then moved the hoof to his erection. Button swallowed, finding it hard to concentrate as the bulky pegasus dry-humped him, but began to smear the cold, greasy substance over the train driver's length.
It smells like sunscreen, he thought.
When Stoker's cock was glistening all over, both ponies on Button Mash stood up. Button took a deep breath as the weight of the pegasus disappeared, and then gasped as Stoker nipped his cutie mark. The guardpony and the other train driver knelt down next to his head, and rubbed their dicks against his face.
Button whimpered as a hot, greasy flare came to rest against his asshole. The pony behind him seemed content to take his time, rubbing his hooves over Button's rump, squeezing and caressing it. He gave it a hard slap, eliciting a yelp.
He whispered into Button's ear. "You like it when I spank your butt, cutie?"
Button's mind was paralysed as one pony prepared to mount him and another two smeared their precum over his cheeks and lips. He said the first thing that came into his head:
"You'll make my butt red!"
All four stallions stepped back from him as if yanked by invisible strings.
"That's the safeword," said one.
"You okay, kid?" asked the pegasus, "You need a breather?"
"Give him some space," said the guard. He levitated out several bottles of water from behind the benches, passing them around. He pressed one into Button’s hooves. “Take a drink, Pip. You don’t want the heat to knock you out.”
Button Mash took the bottle with shaking hooves, and gulped down several mouthfulls of water. With a quaver in his voice, he asked, “W-what’s going on? You were all about to—um—and then you all, uh stopped...”
The stallions looked at him. The pegasus raised an eyebrow, and the others looked similarly bemused. “‘Cause you said ‘red,’ y’know, the safeword?” said the pegasus. “The one you and Big Mac agreed on before we set this whole game up?”
“Safeword? Big Mac? You mean like, Apple Bloom’s big brother? What game?”
The pegasus still looked confused, though worry had seeped into his expression, and into those of his friends. “You and Mac wanted to set up a sex game where me and my pals would pretend to be big horny stallions who were gonna pin you down and have our way with you,” he said, his voice less sure than it had been previously. “Mac sez to me, ‘Pipsqueak’s gonna stumble in to room E3 at the Ponyville Spa, and he’ll say ‘uh, is this the right room,’ so we’ll know it’s him’ and he said he’d turn up halfway through. Where is that big lug, anyhow?”
This time, Button raised an eyebrow. “...You guys know I’m not Pipsqueak, right?”
A nervous laugh went around the room. The pegasus gave a forced grin. “Hah, you’re kidding around. ‘Course you’re kidding around.” He swallowed. “...Ain’t you?”
Button shook his head. “No-oo. My name is Button Mash. Like I told you.”
Jaws slowly dropped, and nervous looks turned horrified. The brown-coated pegasus appeared several shades paler. “N-nah, don’t joke about this...”
One of the train ponies shook his head. “...I don’t think he’s joking.”
The other train pony looked at the pegasus. “Heavy, what did you say this Pip kid looked like?”
“A skinny teenager with mare’s hips and a messy brown mane! I saw him with Mac at Apple Fritter’s birthday party!” protested the panicked pegasus.
The guard looked at him dubiously. “You were blackout drunk at that party, Heavy. You sure that’s what Pip looks like?”
Button Mash interrupted. “Yeah, Pipsqueak does look like that, and he is Mac’s boyfriend... I think. I’m not Pipsqueak! We just look similar... kinda? Wait, no, what the hay? Pipsqueak’s got a pinto coat and he talks funny!”
The stallions were all silent. One of them whimpered softly.
“We just nearly...” mumbled one train pony.
“...Raped a dude,” finished the other.
“Three counts of sexual assault, eight counts of lewd behaviour, one count of kidnapping, four counts of conspiracy, one attempted rape, and one violation of smoking bylaws,” said the guard, defeat heavy in his voice.
“We’re all getting fired,” said a trainpony.
“And evicted,” said the other.
“And then we’re all going to the dungeons,” said the pegasus.
The guard gave a hollow laugh. “Not me. Crooked guards don’t go to the dungeons. They get turned to stone..”
Button Mash sat there, looking at the four horrified stallions. He was bewildered, mildly annoyed, and to his embarrassment, still achingly erect. He’d known he wasn’t entirely straight, but still...
He had to say something.
“Uh, guys?”
The stallions all looked at him. He shuffled forward to where the guard’s half-hard cock was wobbling in the air, lowered his head, and delicately stuck out his tongue to lap up a bead of precum. The guard gasped.
“I didn’t say you had to stop,” said Button.
They pounced.
Button could only giggle as he was carried and laid over the bench on his belly. He moaned as the guard’s musky, iron-hard cock slipped into his mouth, searingly warm on his lips, tasting of salt and sweat and unwashed male. Both of his forehooves were grabbed and pulled outward, urging him to give two simultaneous hoofjobs.
A familiar weight settled on his back. He tensed up, no longer sucking the guard’s dick but merely letting it rest hot and heavy in his mouth, and his handjobs became slow and uncoordinated. He squeaked as he felt the lubricated, blazing-hot tip of the train driver’s cock pressing against his ass once more.
Teeth gently combed through his mane, and the train pony’s hooves reached underneath him to stroke his penis. The train pony kissed his ear and whispered, “You ready, kid?”
Button nodded, his lips still wrapped around a shaft. “Mm-hmm...”
The train pony’s lips pressed against his ear again, soft, warm and loving. “Relax. Let me in.”
Button exhaled through his nose, his breath tickling the slick skin of the guardspony’s cock. His hooves went back to work, slower and more methodical. He willed himself to sink into the bench, letting the tension seep from his muscles.
He moaned as the flare slipped inside him.
After several cautious, testing thrusts, the pace quickened. The train driver continued to lavish kisses on his ears and neck, whispering how soft and tight he was, how sweet he smelled, how his ass hugged his cock so warmly. Button pushed back, rolling his own hips to meet the train pony’s, moaning from shock and sensation as the thick ridge of the medial ring pushed inside him. Kisses and licks mixed with bites and rough, groping hooves, and the burning, stretching sensation of a cock deep in his ass became almost as pleasurable as the hoof stroking his own cock.
The cock left his mouth and Button gave a series of short, squeaky moans. He felt rough coats of older stallions, thick, strong muscles, the sweet-tangy scent of sweaty balls mixed in with the overpowering smell of exertion-sweat. Three cocks were offered up to him, all leaking salty precum. He licked the tip of each one in turn, sampling the thick, clear liquid. He sucked each one, then twice at once as the third cock was rubbed against his cheeks, and then one as two cocks were slapped against him.
The trainpony was hitting Button’s prostate with every stroke. Pain was forgotten. Button felt a strange dampness on the bench beneath him, and dimly realised it was a puddle of his own precum.
A bite on his neck, harder than the others. “Gonna cum.”
He felt the first jet of cum inside him. His legs twitched madly with the second jet, so much thick, warm seed pulsing inside him that he felt as if he were filled to the brim. The train pony kept thrusting into him, and white cum oozed out of Button’s ass with every stroke. He felt it run down his ass and thighs.
More movement. They groped him and kissed him, rough, chapped lips pressing against his own. A thick, wet tongue lapped at his balls and all the way up his shaft in one long lick. They laid him on his back, legs in the air, as the pegasus tongued his stretched, cum-soaked ass.
The train pony who had just fucked him silly towered over him, grinning. His cock was half-hard, and there was a visible sheen of sweat on his balls.
“You got me all sweaty, kid,” he grunted. “Mind cleaning me off?”
Button nodded, and the sweaty, musky balls were lowered into his mouth. The pony above him shifted, and then pressed his ass down onto Button’s face. Button took a moment to savor the overpowering musk, and then began to lick. He heard a moan from above as his tongue touched the hole.
Muffled and oddly distant, Button heard the noise of a bottle-top snapping open, and the rasping slurt of a thick liquid squirting out. The train pony grabbed Button’s ankles and pulled his hind legs high. He cried out in shock as an even thicker cock was pushed inside him.
“Fuck, this lil’ sweetheart is tight,” murmured the pegasus.
Button gasped and squeaked from every inch that slipped into him. The pain was real here, distinct from the pleasure, and Button was thankful for the extra lubricant. He hadn’t expected the huge pegasus to be so gentle. He had taken one of Button’s hind legs and was kissing his hoof as he moved his hips.
The slow, heavy screw continued. Button murmured incoherently, his voice taking a feminine lilt from the loving treatment, cooing as the pegasus’ tongue slipped out to caress his hoof. He glanced upwards as the train pony by his head grunted.
The train pony stood, his hooves moving furiously over his shaft, and came a second time. This load was smaller, splattering over Button’s mouth, chin and neck. Button licked his lips. It had the same salty-musky taste as the precum, with an edge of bitterness to it, and was far thicker in consistency. He opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out as the train pony shook the last few drops off. As the train pony moved away, the guard took his place, thrusting his cock into Button’s mouth. Precum was positively streaming out of the tip, and Button was happy to drink it down.
They fucked him from both ends. Button felt stretched so wide by the pegasus that he couldn’t even tense his butt around the cock inside him, the pegasus was simply too big. Button’s own cock slapped against his stomach with every thrust, sending a trill of pleasure through him with each slap. He couldn’t even control his own hooves, they flopped around aimlessly while his heart beat at a million miles a minute. He tried to breathe through his nose as he suckled the guard’s shaft.
The guard had been masturbating with his own magic, and was getting close. “Gonna cum in your mouth, c-cutie~”
Button’s mouth filled with cum. Salty, bitter, thick as double cream, not coming in spurts but simply pouring into his mouth, enough that it spilled from between his lips no matter how fast he tried to swallow. The guard pulled his cock free from Button’s lips with a small pop, and drizzled more jizz onto the young stallion’s face and mane. Button coughed and swallowed. The cum coated his mouth and tongue, and seemed to cling to the roof of his mouth even after swallowing.
The pegasus grunted and pulled out. Button shuddered at the sudden emptiness, and shivered from pleasure as the pegasus painted his belly, chest, and groin with sperm. He looked at the pegasus with lidded eyes, and rubbed the cum into his coat.
The pegasus dove down to kiss him, hungry and wanting, with such lust that when he broke the kiss, Button found himself inching forward, trying to bring his stallion back. A nip on the cutie mark made Button yelp.
“Time for you to do the work, kid.”
They lifted him off the bench and carried him to the other train pony, laying on his back on the floor. Button tried to straddle the train pony, but his hooves shook so much that he simply collapsed on the pony’s chest. He murmured softly into the pony’s rough, sweaty coat as the pony nuzzled and kissed his head.
“Give the kid a drink,” said one. Button couldn’t tell which. His cock still twitched with need and his body had been put through such sheer and utter sensation that all other things seemed distant, as if through thick glass. A bottle was proffered to him, and he drank the now-warm water. He could feel sweat running down his face in thick beads, stinging his eyes and mixing with the drying cum.
He shuffled until the tip of the train driver’s cock pressed against his hole, and with a gasp, pushed down until it slipped inside. Placing his hooves on the train driver’s chest he pushed up, so that he was squatting over the pony’s hips. Slowly, carefully, he lowered his rump and let more of the cock slide inside. The train driver brushed his bangs out of his eyes and looked up at Button with a dopey smile.
Button slipped.
In one movement his hips dropped, taking more than half of the cock inside him. The medial ring passed into his well-stretched hole as the flare bumped into Button’s prostate. He let out a squeal that could shatter glass. The others rushed to support him, and soon his butt was flush against the train driver’s hips, the cock buried deep inside. Button began to pump, his own cock drizzling precum onto the train driver’s stomach.
Stallions pressed into him on all sides. Warm, tingling magic pressed over his erection as the unicorn used his telekinesis. A train driver kissed his neck as another fucked him from below as the pegasus pushed hot, aggressive kisses onto his lips. A hoof slapped his cutie mark. He moaned in pleasure.
“You like that, huh?” growled the pegasus.
“Y-yeah!” Button couldn’t stop his voice from cracking. His limbs were all less than jelly, it felt as if his brain’s every command reached his body a few seconds too late.
“Pretty mare like you,” the pegasus’ breath was hot in his ear, “loves pleasing big strong stallions.”
“I l-love it,” moaned Button. “I love your dicks, you’re all so strong you’re all so good I’ll be a good little~”
Another kiss muffled him, and the orgy became a haze in Button’s mind. He begged to suck cocks and licked balls, felt more cum pulsing inside him and pouring on to his face, salt tasted sharp on his tongue and tongues pressed inside of his mouth as they bit and groped and caressed him all as he was fucked and blown and licked over and over—
Button Mash woke up.
He was awake, at least. He might have woken up minutes ago, as he was sat up on the bench between four hefty stallions, nursing a bottle of water. They joked and stretched and passed him towels to dry off the worst of the sweat.
His own cock was half-hard, slowly retreating into his sheath. He gave it a gentle prod, and almost yelped at the sensation. He hadn’t felt so sensitive since he’d first learned to masturbate.
Button coughed weakly and looked around at the stallions, his vision almost spinning as he did. “That was, uh—” he coughed again “—pretty intense. It was fun!”
The pegasus grinned. “I’ve had worse.”
“Same here,” said the guard. The train drivers both nodded in assent.
Button blushed as he thought how he could phrase the next question. “Um, I feel kinda dirty asking this,” he started, “but I kinda don’t know any of your names...”
The pegasus laughed. “No worries kid, it was all pretty sudden, huh? Anyhows, my name’s Heavy Package, I work at the Ponyville Delivery Service. The handsome unicorn is Billy Club, he’s part of the Guard, and those two chuckleheads are Booster and Stoker, both work on the Friendship express and no, I can’t tell them apart neither.”
Button Mash shook hooves with each of them, feeling vaguely at-ease for the first time since he had arrived at the spa. “So, uh, what do we do now?”
Billy Club worked out a crick in his neck. “Well, if you’ve got the time we’ll take you for a beer and a bite to eat—Celestia knows you’ve earned it—but first, we’re all due for a shower. I don’t wanna think what we all smell like right now.”
Button Mash smiled. “That sounds good.”
Before they could move, the door to the sauna flew open. A slender, white-coated mare walked through the steam, her curly mane frizzing instantly. “Button Mash?” called Sweetie Belle, “Sorry I took so long, they gave my hooves a trim too—” She stopped as she saw all five stallions, flopping out of their sheaths, covered in sweat and semen.
Two more ponies walked into the room, one imposingly large and the other slim and graceful. “Alright lads, sorry we’re late,” came a Trottingham accent, “Mac and I got proper bladdered at the farm last night and slept a wee bit longer—” and then he too was silent.
The three newcomers stared at the five stallions. The air between them even tasted of sex. The five stallions sat in place, tense and sheepish. For a minute, all was silent.
Sweetie spoke first.
“Are you okay, Button?”
Mac swallowed.
“Nope.”
Pipsqueak glared straight at the other colt.
“You tosser,” he said, “you stole my dicks!”