Chapter 1

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Walking down the first aisle within the Barnyard Bargain shop, Big Mac glanced over at a rack of magazines for the umpteenth time that morning. He’d been in the store for nearly thirty minutes, his cart was practically empty, and he was on his fifth circuit through the place. It would almost seem like he was looking for something, yet that wasn’t the case.

Ordinarily speaking, shopping was an exceptionally easy affair. Once he made a list for himself and his family, he’d go to town, snatch up the items he needed, then be on his way back to the homestead as quickly as he could, making short work of his errands - unfortunately for him, this trek to town hadn’t ended up the way he’d intended. Peeking up at an issue of PlayMare magazine, seeing a striped stud upon the cover, he felt his heart skip a beat.

For all intents and purposes, he had always been a paragon of masculinity. Taller and more heavily built than most stallions, easily as strong as a yak, his powerful physique was mirrored by his cool, stoic demeanor. He’d spent most of his life being interested in mares, taking pride in the lustful looks they’d give him when he was out and about or toiling on the farm, although that changed abruptly almost a month ago.

…

The day had stated like any other. He’d gotten up, hitched himself to a cart laden with several dozen crates of apples, and trudged off to the train station before the sun had crested over the horizon. It wasn’t uncommon for him to make such trips alone, leaving Applejack to look after Granny Smith and Apple Bloom, but that didn’t bother him in the slightest. The cool morning air was refreshing, it was always nice to watch the sunrise, and he’d always savored quiet moments of introspection.

His trip to the station went without anything of note, and he arrived at his destination in less than an hour. Stopping on the platform and waiting for the train to arrive, he lounged on one of the vacant benches and made himself comfortable. As soon as he loaded the apples into one of the freight cars and signed off on an invoice, he’d head home, get himself a hot breakfast, and start his day properly - or so he thought.

It wasn’t long before the train rolled in, its engine steaming and wheels squealing softly against the steel track. While this particular locomotive was affixed with a hoofful of carriages, it had primarily been configured to ship goods. He unseated himself as soon as the massive vehicle came to a halt, stepped between the breechings of his cart, and began pulling his wagon toward the back of the train - that was until he came to a sudden, shuddering halt.

He could count on one hoof the number of times he’d met ponies larger than himself throughout his life, yet the stallion that trotted out of the passenger car was easily the biggest of them all. Standing at nearly a head taller than himself, with a physique that put him to shame, the titan stepped onto the platform and scanned the area with cold, blue eyes. It would have been shocking enough to nearly run into somepony who made him feel small, but the fact that the stranger wasn’t a pony made the development all the more bizarre. Momentarily at a loss, studying the hulking equine, he started when the giant looked over at him with a pair of piercing, brilliant blue eyes.

“Pardon,” the colossus rumbled, dipping his head. “You wouldn’t happen to know the way to the Everfree Forest ~ would you?”

Mac’s jaw flapped uselessly as his mind struggled to process what was going on. “E - uh - Eeeyup.”

The stranger smiled down at him, only glancing momentarily at the apple-laden cart to his rear. “And might I ask for directions?”

Though he was normally quite tacit, the exchange left him quite literally speechless. Tearing his eyes off the behemoth, he pointed to a sign resting just beside the nearby street. Even if he could have found his voice, there was only so much to be said. The Everfree sat at the southern end of town, almost a straight shot from the train station, so it would have been almost impossible for the newcomer to get lost.

Peering off in the direction Mac pointed, the giant gave a small bow. “Many thanks. I am in your debt, Mister…?”

Only eventually realizing he’d been asked a question, Mac swallowed hard. “Big Mac.”

“Shaka,” the titan snickered, his laughter like boulders cascading down a mountain as he held a hoof to his broad, powerful chest. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I’m going to try and surprise my cousin. Take care, Big Mac.”

Mac nodded and watched the goliath depart, practically feeling the ground quake with every step Shaka took. His eyes drifted over the departing stallion, and drinking in every little detail of the unique creature. Their interaction had lasted mere seconds, they’d spoken fewer than three sentences to one another, and yet he was left with a whole bushel of information to process.

He didn’t consider himself a genius by any means, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that Shaka had to be some kin to Zecora. The behemoth was only the second zebra he’d ever met, making it a simple affair to put two and two together - nevertheless, the brief exchange left him shaken. While it was true that he’d been around creatures that were bigger than him on several occasions, this was the first time he’d actually felt small.

The rest of his morning went as smoothly as it could, loading the apples onto the train, heading back home, and sitting down for breakfast with the rest of his family, although the same couldn’t be said for the remainder of his day. No matter what he did or how hard he worked in the orchard, his meeting with Shaka refused to leave his mind. It wasn’t until that evening, once he’d showered and settled into bed for the night, that things took a disastrous turn.

Though he never considered himself an overly sexual stallion, preferring to keep himself busy instead of lusting after carnal pursuits, his dreams that night plagued him. An absolute mountain of a stallion had whispered sweet nothings to him, breathing heavily on his ear while looming over him, and the sinful imaginings hadn't just turned him on. He’d awakened with a start, bolting upright from beneath his sheets, and discovered that his blanket had been dampened with more than just sweat.

It was only by the grace of Celestia that he’d woken up before anypony else in the house, allowing him to wash his linens without raising any questions, but his day didn’t get any easier from that point forward. As he went to work as he always did, tending to the orchard and doing chores around the homestead, his mind fixated on the tremendous zebra who’d haunted his dreams. After he’d nearly bucked a tree in half, kicking it so hard as to crack the trunk, he understood he had to do something to remedy his plight.

He initially debated going out to Zecora’s hut to see Shaka again, if only to properly introduce himself, although the idea left him torn. On one hoof, he feared that speaking with the giant would only make his condition worse - on the other, he was genuinely curious to learn more about the colossus. In the end, he talked himself out of going, too anxious and confused to fully commit, and so he did the only thing he could think of - work himself to the bone and pray the intrusive thoughts would leave him.

…

“Excuse me,” a voice quietly asked, shaking Mac from his stupor and bringing him back to the present.

He reflexively stepped aside and let a mare walk past him. As unfortunate as it was, the sight of the PlayMare magazine reminded him of Shaka in a heartbeat. It wasn’t like he’d gone out to get something so crass, simply wishing to pick up cereal and a few items for the house, yet seeing the zebra on the cover of the publication piqued his curiosity. In a moment of weakness, he reached out, snatched the article from the rack, and slipped it under a bag of oats in his cart.

While he doubted the pony working at the checkout counter would say anything to him about the purchase, the idea of buying something so scandalous made him more anxious than he’d been in ages - even though it shouldn’t have. Ponies were free to love or lust after whoever they so choose, regardless of their sex or gender - shucks, his own cousin Braeburn was exclusively interested in stallions, but this was new for him. It may have been silly and completely unwarranted, but he’d rather avoid his name or his budding obsession.

After quickly getting what was left on his grocery list, he proceeded to the checkout, heaped his goods onto the counter, and impatiently waited to be wrung up. The clerk languidly tallied each item, punching the amounts into the register, while he tapped his hoof on the floor beneath him. Everything was going smoothly until the employee spotted the dirty magazine. Though the cashier didn’t say anything to him, the young stallion did give him the barest hint of a smile before secreting the publication under several items in his cart.

Mac paid in a flash, practically shoveling the small stack of coins onto the employee, and scampered out and to his awaiting wagon. He was thankful that he hadn’t had to say anything to the clerk, but he was mortified all the same. His face had gone an even brighter shade of red than usual, his heart was pounding, and beads of sweat dotted his brow - still, he’d managed to get out without calling too much attention to himself.

As he transferred his items from the shopping cart and into his wagon, nestling everything behind several bales of straw and hay he’d purchased when he’d first gotten into town, he paused when he got to the issue of PlayMare. It would be easy enough to slip the taboo item into his room without his siblings or Granny Smith seeing it, but his passions were running far too hot to wait that long. His eyes shot to the side and down an alley, noticing the shady, vacant sidestreet several feet away, and the corners of his lips turned up.

Giving himself a peek wouldn’t hurt anything ~ right? He lifted and looked around behind himself, ensuring he wasn’t being watched, as he nonchalantly trotted into the alley. He told himself that he deserved to glance through the article, that it was merely to sate his curiosity, yet that was only a partial truth. He stepped behind a stack of palates and out of sight of any passersby, flipped through the pages of the publication, and stopped when he reached the main article.

Striped Sins, a way to please any mare or stallion…

He’d simply expected to find some pinups, spreads of stallions showing their stuff in the most seductive way possible, but he’d stumbled upon so much more than that. The title of the article said it all, shifting his focus from the pictures to the writing scrawled upon the page. It wasn’t that the images weren’t hot, displaying striped studs in all manner of provocative poses, but the editorial was almost painfully arousing.

There was no way for him to know if the column was true or not, but it alleged that Zebras were lovers beyond peer. Both larger and more dominant than their pony kin, Zebricans were apparently very assertive with stallions or mares, with a great many being open to making love to either sex. The more he read, the more he got turned on - the more he got turned on, the more his raging libido sent blood to the last place it needed to be.

It wasn’t until he felt a peculiar ache in his loins that he lowered the magazine and noticed just how aroused he’d gotten. Dangling beneath him, his stallionhood hung under its own immense weight. He’d had no doubt that he’d been getting worked up, imagining if Shaka was like the stallions described in the article, yet he’d had no way of knowing just how excited he’d gotten.

Staring down at his length, he grimaced. This wasn’t good - this wasn’t good at all. While it was completely acceptable for a stallion to trot about in the buff, sauntering around with an erection would be less than ideal. Thinking fast, realizing his groceries would be fine resting in his cart for the time being, he was stricken with an idea.

The way he saw it, he only had two options to work with: he could either linger in the alley and hope he went soft, a prospect which seemed unlikely given the circumstances, or he could find somewhere that allowed ponies to walk around with a boner. Seeing as how Ponyville wasn’t exactly a bustling metropolis, with nearly everypony knowing one another, there was only one place he could think of to wait out his erection - the local adult shoppe. As luck would have it, the den of depravity, the only store that sold anything overtly lewd besides magazines, wasn’t far away - easily close enough for him to make a dash without anypony seeing him or his big, floppy problem.

He crept to the opposite end of the alley, checked to make sure the coast was clear, and made a break for it. For somepony of his size and heft, he was actually quite quick, having surprised even Rainbow Dash with his speed, so he dashed down the block, around the corner, and burst through the front doors of the store in a matter of seconds. Panting heavily, he caught his breath and looked up to the stunned shopkeeper.

Lifting a forehoof, he trotted in and into the rows upon rows of hedonistic delights. He had nopony to blame but himself for the embarrassing turn of events, practically kicking himself for not waiting to get to his room to crack open the issue of PlayMare, but it wasn’t the end of the world. Soon enough, he’d calm down, see himself out, and bring his purchases back home.

He idly looked up and down the racks of sex-toys, accessories, and slatternly garments, simply whiling away his time, until something unique caught his eye. In a box streaked with black and white bands, prominently displaying the face of a zebra, was an absolutely huge dildo. The immaculately crafted length of silicone was a piece of art, sporting everything from veins along its shaft to a thick medial ring, and he couldn’t fathom how anypony, much less a pony smaller than himself, could comfortably manage something so dauntingly huge.

“He’s a new model,” a voice softly proclaimed, practically making Mac jump out of his skin. “Life-cast from some Zebrican porn star - what’s his name, Mkuu or something…”

While he hadn’t asked for the information, nor the clerk to come over and start chatting with him, Mac was impressed. As big as - no, maybe slightly bigger than his stallionhood, the dong did little to quell his licentious desires. He peeked down at the price, noticed that it was on sale, and gulped. As insane as it was to think about, never once having used his backdoor for anything other than its intended purpose, he was compelled to make a very impulsive purchase.

Grabbing one of the dildos from the rack, he wheeled around, proceeded to the front counter, and snatched up a bottle of lube by the register. Buck it - he rarely if ever bought anything for himself, he had more than enough bits to spare, and it was nopony’s business what he did in the seclusion of his bedroom. He handed the items to the employee without saying a word, dug into the little sack of coins he kept attached to his yolk, and counted out the bits.

The cashier was as polite and courteous as could be, mutely placing the items in an innocuous paper bag and passing them back to his customer. “Have a good day!”

Mac faltered, struggling not to smile, and nodded. “Eeyup…”

He attempted to calmly walk out, trying and failing to play it cool, but he broke into a canter as soon as he stepped out of the shop. Either the universe had a grand sense of irony or a certain Draconequus was playing a prank on him - in either case, he hurried back to the front of Barnyard Bargains, threw his dubious purchases in the cart, and prepared himself for the long trip back to the farm. As he hauled the wagon behind himself, barely paying any mind to the ponies he passed, his thoughts sank deeper into lecherous waters.

Though his stallionhood had softened to a degree, freely swinging beneath him, his concern about his appearance was eclipsed by a welling giddiness. The taboo of having bought a naughty magazine was thrilling, but not nearly as thrilling as what rested within the nondescript bag in the back of his cart. Without realizing it, he hastened his pace and briskly strolled out of town.

His hike back to the orchard sailed by in what felt like seconds, leading him into the country surrounding his home, but he slowed when he spotted his house on the horizon. Granny, Applejack, and Apple Bloom would almost certainly be up by now, tainting his wanton glee with anxiety. He loved his family more than anypony, so the last thing he needed or wanted was for them to become aware of his questionable investments.

As he neared the farmstead, he looked over to the barn. It only made sense to do anything obscene in his room, yet the amount of privacy he had there was finite. Given the thin walls of the house, and the fact that nopony ever locked their doors, there was a very real chance that one of his sisters or Granny could inadvertently catch him in the act of having some personal time - a slim chance, but a chance he wasn’t willing to risk. Coming to a halt beside the barn and uncoupling himself from the wagon, keeping his eyes on the home, he surreptitiously gathered up his issue of PlayMare, the lube, and the dildo.

While he’d always been open and honest with his family, he’d really rather not have them knowing about his carnal side - as such, doing anything even remotely sexual would have to be done cautiously. Sneaking into the cavernous building and to the stairwell, listening for any signs of movement, he crept into the hayloft. The top floor of the structure was largely abandoned, serving as a storage area for old furniture and scrap lumber, and it would be the perfect spot to do anything secretive.

He stashed his amorous acquisitions within a wardrobe that hadn’t been used in at least a decade, trotted back downstairs, and pulled the wagon to the front of the house. If anypony had noticed that he’d returned home, there was no sign of it. Once he’d taken a moment to collect himself, wiping the silly little grin from his face, he calmly threw the bag of oats onto his shoulder and saw himself inside.

His morning and afternoon proceeded as usual. He ate with his family, helped clean up from breakfast, and set to work around the farm - all the while musing on all the depraved things he was going to do to himself later that evening. As the day dragged on, moving from one task to the next, all he could do was think about getting some time to himself with his magazine and his new toy. Darned if he could say if he’d end up using the dildo on himself, considering how gosh darn big it was, but even an impassive stallion like himself was prone to the odd bout of reckless spending.

It was difficult to keep up appearances, hiding his mounting enthusiasm throughout the day, but somehow managed not to draw any attention to himself. Things eventually wound down after the sun had set, giving him an opportunity to enact his scheme. One good thing about the Apple family was that they were deep sleepers, oftentimes snoozing through major storms, so he was able to slip out of the house with relative ease.

Through the yard and into the barn he meandered, taking the utmost care not to make a noise. As if being stealthy wasn’t out of character enough for him, it didn’t hold a candle to what he’d done before he left the homestead. While it may have been preemptive and unnecessary, still unsure of if he’d follow through with what could be a foolhardy scheme, but he’d thoroughly cleaned every part of himself - both inside and out.

He hadn’t done so himself, having had no reason to in the past, but he was completely aware of the preparations necessary for anal. His behind may have been virginal, but he’d made sure it would be ready for any sort of action if he was so inclined. There was no way for him to know what he’d end up doing in the barn, so being ready for anything wasn’t the worst decision he’d made that day.

Closing the door behind himself, he trotted up and into the loft, gathered his things, and made himself comfortable against an old dresser. Erring on the side of caution, he only had a small oil lamp to light the area, but that was enough to let him see all the deliciously dirty pictures in his magazine. Whereas he’d primarily focused on the article earlier, being taken off guard by just how provocative the column was, he fixated on each image as though it were a work of art.

Each stallion depicted was an adonis, muscular and in their prime, and the intrusive, insidious thoughts he’d been grappling came rushing back in an instant at the sight of them. The stripes on their fur, the lustful looks in their eyes, and the dark flesh on their stallionhoods set his heart aflutter. There was no way for him to know how big the zebra models were, having no context for their precise size, yet he couldn’t help but imagine that each was as large as Shaka.

Stars above - though he’d spent no more than a few minutes around the mohawked titan, he couldn’t shake the colossal zebra from his mind. Shaka’s immense size, the patterns on his hide, his build, and sonorous voice moved him in a way that shouldn’t have been possible, igniting the fires of his lust into an unquenchable inferno. Shifting his gaze from the magazine, he leaned over and reached for the boxed dildo.

To Tartarus with it - he was a grown stallion and he saw no point in letting the sex-toy merely be something to look at. He dropped the magazine at his side, keeping it open on a particularly alluring spread of a Zebrican stud, and flipped the top of the box open. As he pulled the silicone dong free, marveling at the intricate details on its impressive length, his pucker clenched upon itself.

On top of acting wholly off his compulsions, never having done anything with a stallion before, he lifted the dildo to his face, gave the tip a small kiss, and wrapped his lips around the yielding shaft. The texture was odd, unnaturally cool, yet the sensation of it against his tongue excited him immeasurably. He closed his eyes and softly groaned as his imagination ran positively wild.

While he raised and lowered his head, fantasizing about what it would be like to actually give somepony a blowjob, he was amazed with how arousing the concept was. Left to wonder what it would be like to have a real cock against his tongue, he glanced down and at the magazine next to him. If the editorial was true, and he had no reason to believe it wasn’t, he may need to hunt down Shaka again.

To say going finding and visiting the towering Zebra was a crazy idea would be an understatement of profound proportions - even so, the notion was extraordinarily exhilarating. It would be easy enough to go to Zecora’s hut with a freshly baked apple pie, merely wishing to give Shaka a proper greeting, and it would give him what he so desperately craved. Even if things didn’t progress past more than simply chatting, he’d love to see the giant again.

He leaned in, brought the molded cock-head to the back of his throat, and stifled a gag. Enthusiasm could only get him so far, especially given his utter lack of experience with any sort of oral, but he wasn’t about to give up - not yet anyways. Fellating the toy as best he could, running his tongue along the underside, he clutched his stallionhood with his free forehoof and began languidly stroking himself off.

If he’d had the slightest idea that sucking on a dildo would be as stimulating as it was, he may have bought one for himself ages ago - sadly, it had taken his fateful encounter with Shaka and a series of unforeseen coincidences to drive him to that moment. Leaving streaks of saliva along the molded shaft, appreciating the fine details of the dildo within his muzzle, he mopped the length with his lips. Lost to his thoughts, envisioning what it would be like if the toy was real, he fell still when something warm and wet graced the frog of his hoof.

He knew he’d been more turned on than he had any right to be, but he failed to realize just how turned on he’d gotten. As he peeked downward, his eyes widened when he saw pre-cum drooling from his dick. Any reasonable stallion would have continued getting themselves off in a conventional sense - then again, he wasn’t exactly feeling reasonable.

Rearing back and pulling the dildo from his snout, he released his stallionhood and snatched up the bottle of lube. He may regret it - heck, he could almost guarantee he’d regret it, but he had to at least try to use the toy for its intended purpose. Fueled by his desires, he pushed himself up, licked the suction cup base on the dong, and firmly planted the toy on one of the floorboards.

Allowing his instincts to guide him, he hastily, almost frantically applied a liberal drizzle of lube over the toy. Though he had no idea what he was doing, having entered uncharted territory several minutes prior, he couldn’t stop himself. He peered down his heaving chest and past his stallionhood, staying firmly planted on the dildo, as he gradually lowered himself and kissed his pucker to the cool, battering ram-like tip of silicone.

Bearing his weight against the toy, feeling it flex beneath him, he gnawed his bottom lip. If he had even the slightest chance of getting dong into himself, he’d have to relax. He remained where he stood and breathed, giving himself a moment to calm down, before making a second attempt. The dildo held firm, bowing slightly while he applied more weight, until it happened. With an all but audible pop, his hole was forced open and embraced the slickened shaft.

The intrusion was so sudden that he gasped, taken aback by the alien feelings washing over him. He wanted to say that it felt like he had to use the bathroom, but that wasn’t completely accurate. Intense - he could only describe the sensation as intense and a bit strange, though it was far from unpleasant. Dipping his head to look down at himself, he continued his downward descent.

Lower and lower he crept, his stallionhood coming to rest on the floor under him, before a bolt of pleasure coursed through him. He’d heard about the prostate before, the male analog to the g-spot on mares, but the stories he’d been told hadn’t done it justice. The stimulation he received was unlike anything he’d experienced before, making him forget all about his leaking, pulsing dick.

He only slowed when he reached the midway point on the toy, feeling the girthy medial ring bump against his twitching hole. Having the dildo in him was incredible beyond words, yet remaining squatted on the thing wasn’t what it was meant for. Lifting his hips and freeing several inches of the toy, unable to tell just how much of the dong he’d managed to get into himself, he sank down again.

For the second time in seconds, he sharply inhaled. He could tell without looking that he was nailing his p-spot, filling him with the confidence to continue. His second plunge was met by a second, then a third and a fourth, until he was wantonly bouncing his ass on the dildo. Up and down, in and out - each movement was met with surges of pure, unrefined bliss.

His technique was sloppy and amateurish, yet he moved harder and faster with every passing second. Balancing on three hooves, he fumbled for the magazine. Screwing himself was way, way better than he could have dared to dream it would be, but getting a bit more inspiration definitely wouldn’t hurt anything. As he stared down at the page, locking eyes with the Zebrican stallion holding his cock, he softly whimpered.

The sound of his own voice, hearing how marish he was, sent him into a frenzy. He was Big Macintosh, stud of renown, and yet he was unabashedly plowing his ass with an absolutely monstrous sex-toy while daydreaming about a stud he’d only just met! While a part of him was embarrassed about what he was doing, he was beyond the point of no return. Slipping into a rut-lust, chasing a growing feeling blossoming deep in his abdomen, his zeal was ultimately his undoing.

He didn’t even know how close he was to a climax until it was too late. With a hushed, feminine while, he hilted himself on the toy and blew his load. Spunk dribbled from his pulsing stallionhood, seeping through the cracks on the floor, while his battered hole convulsed and needily clung to the dildo. As much as he should have cared about the mess he was making, his mind lay elsewhere.

Beset by ecstasy, barely able to breathe, he panted while the air steamed around him. He’d masturbated more times than he could count over the years, but the sheer amount of pleasure delivered by the sex-toy was on an entirely different level to an ordinary climax. He giggled like a school filly, then quietly laughed, as he reached down to touch the balls of the dong.

Yeah, he had some cleaning up to do before he shuffled back to his room and into his bed - sure, he might be sore and walking funny in the morning, but it had been worth it. Unsteadily standing and unsheathing the toy from his rear, he nearly collapsed against the dresser beside him. Though the entire experience couldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes, he could barely stand up straight.

He wearily turned and gazed down upon the toy, shocked by just how incredible it was, and smiled. Yeah - buying the thing had definitely been worth it, but it came with a cost he couldn’t have predicted. Seeing its length glistening in the dim light, watching a bead of lube glide down to its balls, he wondered how much more phenomenal it would be like if he’d been with a living, breathing stallion…

Chapter 2

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“You sure we can’t convince you to stay here tonight, honey?” Dumpling asked, reluctantly breaking her embrace with the giant, crimson stallion.

Smiling over at the behemoth, Koozie motioned to a couch behind him. “Honestly, it’s not a big deal! You can have Bab’s bed! She can sleep on the -”

“Are you seriously going to make me sleep on the couch?” Babs protested, glowering up at her father.

“Oh hush, Babs! It’d only be for one night - besides, when’s the last time Big Mac came all the way to Manehattan for a visit?” Dumpling countered, giving the filly a stern but not overly upset look.

Freed from his aunt’s hug, Mac stepped to the side and tousled the filly’s hair. He wasn’t going to evict her from her bed, no matter how much Dumpling or Koozie insisted on it, so she had nothing to worry about. As he moved over and shook hooves with his uncle, giving the older stallion a pat on the back, his smile broadened.

He could understand why his distant family were cheerfully surprised to have him show up on their doorstep, and he had every intention of being in town for another two days to spend time with them, but seeing them wasn’t the only reason he’d made the hours-long trek to Manehattan. Giving his aunt a parting kiss, he ponderously turned, trotted out, and waved over his shoulder. Between the hours he’d spent on the train, the full meal his kin had generously prepared for him, and knowing he’d be spending more time with his aunt, uncle, and cousin, nopony could blame him for wanting to retire to his hotel room for some sleep.

Trotting out of the townhouse and down to the sidewalk, he paused beneath a streetlamp to get his bearings. It was well after sunset, there was a chill in the air, and the city seemed to be calming down from the hustle and bustle of the day, causing the corners of his lips to turn up. He really was happy to go and see Dumpling, Koozie, and Babs, yet visiting them gave him the perfect opportunity to try something brash and just a bit crazy.

As he meandered in the direction of his hotel, his pace quickened. Under ordinary circumstances, he would have only made the trek to Manehattan with Applejack, Granny Smith, and Applebloom, although this was a special occasion. Even though he wasn’t a fan of bigger cities, finding all the hubbub and noise far more stressful than it should be, he’d decided to make the journey on his lonesome.

His family back in Ponyville hadn’t been all that bothered by his seemingly spontaneous departure, finding it a bit odd but not questioning him on it, so he’d packed his bags, bid them farewell, and gone to town to board the train. Heaven only knows what Granny and Applejack or, Celestia forbid, Apple Bloom would think if they knew the real reason he was taking his little vacation, but he didn’t have too much to worry about. As far as his kin knew, he was simply going to reconnect with his aunt, uncle, and cousin - nothing more.

Stopping at a crosswalk, nearly having trotted out into the busy street, he scrunched his snout. His true motivation for going to Manehattan was about as shameful as it could get, easily one of the most impulsive things he’d ever done, but he couldn’t help it. Meeting Shaka that fateful day had shined a light on a side of him he’d never known existed. He’d opened Pandora's box, though he’d had no way of knowing it at the time, and he was getting worse off by the day.

The dirty magazine and dildo he’d purchased had served him well for a time, leading to several weeks of clandestine enjoyment in the hayloft, but eventually the novelty faded and his curiosity bloomed. More issues of PlayMare were bought, he’d visited the library on a few occasions, and he’d engrossed himself in his newfound, admittedly shameful obsession. As he’d been quick to learn, Zebrican stallions weren’t just easy on the eyes, they were dominant, strong, and, according to his research, absolute gods in the bedroom.

Delving deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole, finding nothing to turn him away from his perverse fascination with Zebras, he’d gone so far as to buy a second, slightly larger sex-toy with a suction cup base. There was nothing wrong with the original dong he’d gotten for himself, but the new one gave him a whole host of positions to get himself off in. He’s affixed the silicone length to walls, furniture, the floor - anywhere he could stick it, and bucked against it like a horny mare.

He could have - should have been content with the depths of depravity in which he’d sunk, realizing the perils of going deeper, but he’d cast his inhibitions to the wind. No matter how many times he fucked himself, in spite of or possibly due to his interests, he found himself yearning to experience the real thing. Sex toys were all well and good, but to get rutted by an actual stallion - he shivered with excitement at the mere thought.

Shifting as a stallion brushed by him, he was shaken from his thoughts and trotted onward and to the Mariotte. He’d checked in at the hotel shortly after arriving, and was going to stay there for the next two nights, but his room would be for more than just sleeping. While he’d initially debated going to speak with Shaka again, he hadn’t been able to work up the nerve to go to Zecora’s hut.

He’d tried - stars above, he’d tried to summon the courage to seek out the striped titan, yet the idea of speaking with the giant made him nervous in a way that shouldn’t have been possible. What should have been something so simple as trotting to the Everfree, knocking at a door, and properly introducing himself made knots form in his stomach and made him weak in the knees. Sooner or later, purposefully or not, he felt certain he’d bump into Shaka again, though that may not be for some time.

It may have - no, it definitely was crazy, but his lust-addled brain had ultimately settled on a way for him to get what he wanted without blowing his chances with Shaka. Throughout the wellspring of lecherous articles he’d poured over, he’d learned that there were certain places that ponies could go to indulge themselves in an anonymous fashion. The concept of using a glory hole was a bit disconcerting, so much so that he’d initially written off the idea entirely, yet the concept had gradually warmed on him. If he could get his first taste of the genuine article, even if it was sucking off some stranger, he’d bite the proverbial bullet - after all, for all he knew, he might not even like doing anything with a living, breathing stallion!

Having reached and entered the Mariotte, Mac rode the lift up to his floor. He tended to travel light, only bringing the bare necessities for trips, and this time was no exception. As the door to his suite opened, his eyes shot to the pair of saddlebags he’d placed at the foot of his bed. Besides bringing some spare bits and toiletries, he’d included a few special items in with his effects.

He’s stashed his pair of dildos and some lube in with his meager belongings, although those weren’t nearly as important as a hastily scribbled and crudely drawn map he’d made for himself. What should have been an easy task, finding the right spot to slake his lust in a furtive manner, became inordinately difficult due to his fear of being found out. It had taken him a week to pen a letter to the publisher of PlayMare, and the better part of a month of silently keeping his hooves crossed that he’d get an answer, but his patience had paid off.

The Black Stripe - that was the name of the bar he’d been directed to. Not only did the establishment cater to stallions who preferred the company of other stallions, but the place was purportedly owned by a zebra. He stared down at the map he’d made for himself, committing the route from his hotel to his destination to memory, before he scampered into the bathroom to make himself ready.

His shower and preparation only took a hoofful of minutes, though he grew increasingly excited throughout the endeavor. While it may have been a bit excessive to thoroughly clean himself as a small investment. He doubted he’d be doing anything more than maybe sucking or fondling a dick, if he was lucky, but he’d almost definitely end up screwing himself silly with one or both of his toys once he got back to his room later that night.

With nothing more to be done, he briefly inspected himself in the mirror, smiled, and saw himself out. He’d been tempted to pick up some lipstick for himself, if only to add an erotic element to the taboo act he’d hopefully be doing, but he saw little point in going that far; nopony would be able to see him, save for his muzzle, and he wasn’t about to go trotting down the street with his lips painted. Down the lift, through the lobby, and into the chill air he strode, his heart racing all the while.

The good news was that he was able to find The Black Stripe with ease, following the street signs into a shabbier area of town - the bad news was that the place was far from glamorous. A small, relatively innocuous placard above a set of stairs that descended to the basement of a run-down brick building. Though he’d expected to find a name printed on the sign, the panel was completely barren of any writing; instead of words, a large, black streak had been painted across the hanging plank of wood.

He smiled up at the sign, finding it rather clever, before he shifted his gaze down to a large, metal door. There was still time for him to turn back, to change his mind and go back to his room, but he wasn’t about to let weeks’ worth of planning, a train trip, and all his hard work go to waste. Steadily descending from the street, he lifted a hoof and loudly tapped on the entryway.

With a metal click, a metal spyhole was slid open in the door. “Yeah?” a gruff voice inquired.

“Ah…” Mac paused, unsure of what to say.

Though he had found the place, he’d discovered perilously little details of the protocol or etiquette involved for amorous activities therein. He knit his brow and grinned at the darkened slot, praying whoever was inside would get the hint, while his thoughts raced. Chickening out would have been demeaning, but being turned away at the door would leave him feeling completely defeated.

The sound of a small chuckle crept through the opening, making his hair stand on end. “Lemme guess - it’s your first time and you don’t know how this works?”

Keeping his eyes on his unseen judge, Mac gave a slow, steady nod. “E…eeyup.”

What couldn’t have been more than a few seconds dragged on for a small eternity, the door was unlocked and pulled open. Standing just inside, veiled in shadow, was a zebra stallion with a shaggy mop of dreadlocks for a mane, brilliant green eyes, and a physique that rivaled his own. While the Zebrican bouncer wasn’t quite as large as himself, that wasn’t saying much in the grand scheme of things - at the end of the day, the unnamed stud was still considerably larger than the average pony.

“Now that we got that out of the way, I got one more question,” the stallion grumbled, looking him up and down. “Are you here to have a drink and relax or are you here to have some fun?”

The question seemed innocent enough on a superficial level, yet Mac knew there was more to it. Blood rushed to his face, broke the zebra’s gaze, and he bashfully lifted a forehoof to rub the back of his neck. He wasn’t much of a talker, nor had he been for most of his adult life, so suddenly being expected to answer something so embarrassing made it nearly impossible to speak.

Stepping just outside, the Zebrican shook his head and smirked. “Judging from just how hard you’re blushing, I’m thinking you’re here for the fun stuff?”

“E…eeyup,” Mac stammered, unable to keep a quake from his voice.

“Since you’ll be putting that pretty mouth and luscious lips to better use shortly, you don’t have to say anything,” the stud guffawed, trotting around to clap him on the shoulder. “Come on, I’ll show you around the place.”

Seeing the zebra trot inside, Mac drew a deep breath, steeled his resolve, and crossed the threshold. Immediately upon entering, a number of things struck him. The interior was dark, dimly lit by a number of lanterns hung on the walls, an unfamiliar smell hung in the air, and the place was sparsely decorated. A bar at one side of a large chamber, a small number of tables and chairs, and two pool tables, yet he scarcely paid them any mind - not compared to whom lurked within.

No fewer than a dozen zebras lounged, drank, or quietly chatted with one another, and each of them eyed him as he trotted behind his guide. He weakly smiled and nodded to each of them in turn, though he only didn’t look at any of them for too long. Forcing himself to look at the floor, he followed along behind the dreadlocked stud and into a short corridor.

“This,” the zebra noted, turning to face him, “is your room.”

Mac peered at the closed door just beside him and pushed it open. He honestly hadn’t been sure of what to expect, having only read about such dens of depravity prior to that moment, yet the sight before him was as perverse as it was thrilling. Poking his head into what was effectively a stall, he started when his host thrust a forehoof to one wall.

“Even if you haven’t done this before, it should be obvious what that’s for,” the stud chuckled, pointing at a tape-lined hole. “And that,” he continued, swinging his hoof to the opposite side of the chamber, “if for if you’re feeling a bit more generous.”

Following the Zebrican’s foreleg, Mac gawked when he realized what the stallion had meant. There was a wooden panel large enough for a pony, even a pony as big as himself, to stuff their hindquarters though. He knew all about glory holes - heck, that was the entire reason he’d come to Manehattan, but he would never have guessed that there was something similar for getting rutted.

Stepping back and into the corridor, the zebra casually sauntered away. “If you want to clean yourself up when you’re finished, there’s a bathroom at the end of the hall.”

And with those final words, Mac was left to his own devices. This was what he’d pined for, the chance to do something exquisitely naughty without anypony knowing about it, yet the juncture left him with mixed feelings. His excitement warred with his apprehension and good sense, leaving him idling in the hallway for only a brief moment. Stepping inside and kicking the door closed behind himself, he sealed his fate before he changed his mind.

The glory hole to his left was broad enough to accommodate somepony even bigger than himself, being nearly as wide as his hoof, but the yawning opening on his right piqued his interest. There was a piece of what appeared to be plywood perfectly fitted in the wide, rump-shaped gap. Both amused and amazed that The Black Stripe was willing to let patrons get more than just lip service, he snickered to himself.

All in all, the chamber was almost completely vacant. With plastic flooring beneath his hooves, likely to make mopping up messes a trivial affair, he lowered his head and peeked through the smaller of the two holes. It was hard to imagine how a stallion could comfortably stick their length through such an opening, but his best guess was that there was a bar or something somepony could place their forehooves on. Trying to give himself a peek through to the other side, he stumbled back when he heard a door open.

“Hey,” a rich, deep voice grunted.

Feeling his mouth go dry, Mac attempted to swallow. He’d only been in the room for a minute or so, yet some intrepid soul had already deemed him worthy to give him a visit. As he struggled to think of something - anything to say, he was taken aback when the broad tip of a stallionhood slowly emerged before him.

“Gotta say,” they purred, “you’re pretty hot for a stallion. Bet that ass of yours can milk a cock for days.”

Mac peeked back at his ass, more flustered than ever. The first zebra had commented about his lips, and now he’d just gotten a very slatternly compliment about his tush! Briefly glancing at the hole at his back, only then realizing he was big enough to make use of his muzzle and behind at the same time, he felt his stallionhood slip from its sheath.

His attention swung back his admirer - rather the only part of his admirer that he could see. Long, thick, and covered in midnight-black flesh, the mere sight of the stallionhood made his backdoor twitch in anticipation. This - this was what he’d come for, what he’d been dreaming of, and now he’d finally get to appease his wanton desires.

The zebra shifted, his hooves clicking against something metal, before he spoke again. “So you gonna sit in there and look at it all night, sweet thing, or are you gonna put that cute little muzzle of yours to work…?”

Inching forward, prompted by the question, Mac caressed his cheek along the stud’s shaft. He hadn’t even considered his sense of smell, truth be told, but the heady aroma that flooded his sinuses hit him like a sack of bricks. Strong and exotic, the heady bouquet sent a thrilled shiver up his spine. Able to control himself no longer, he pressed his tongue past his lips and touched it to the fat medial ring on his suitor’s length.

The flavor of unwashed flesh, salty and earthy, bathed his palate. Until that moment, he’d only ever fantasized about what a zebra would taste like, but that was a thing of the past. Drawing his tongue down the drooping, weighty shaft, he seated himself, lifted a forehoof, and tenderly stroked the underside of the glorious stallionhood.

He wanted to take his time and savor the experience, although he didn’t want to risk upsetting the zebra - bearing that in mind, he dipped his head and brought his lips to the stud’s cock-head. While it was true that he didn’t have the slightest idea of who the Zebrican was, what he looked like, or even how old the stallion was, simply being able to gratify his carnal cravings was electrifying.

Nearly as big as his leg, pulsing slightly in tune with the stallion’s heart, the zebra’s dick was everything he’d hoped it would be. Though it was huge, nearly the same size as his biggest dildo, it was just pliable enough to make him tremble with excitement. Fellating or being fucked by something completely unyielding would be an onerous task, but that thankfully wouldn’t be a concern - in fact…

Closing his eyes and lowering his head, hunching down awkwardly, he made out with the tip of the zebra’s length. The sensation of velvety skin against his tongue and the fragrance tickling his nostrils would have been enough to spur him onward, but it was the sonorous, pleased hum from beyond the partition that abolished his reservations. Imagining it was none other than Shaka he was serving, he opened his jaw, leaned in, and worked the cock into his maw.

The months leading up to his trip to Manehattan hadn’t been wasted with fretting and attempts to quell his libido - no, he’d done everything he could to train himself for eventually being with a stallion. Filling his lungs as the shaft glided over his tongue, he bobbed his head. He may have gagged on his initial spontaneous attempt to throat a dildo, but that felt like a lifetime ago.

Shuffling forward and closer to the wall, he filled his muzzle. His forehoof stroked the lower portion of the zebra’s stallionhood, while his lips mopped the first few inches of saliva-slickened shaft. Leaving his turgid dick to twitch and leak against the floor beneath him, far more interested in serving his admirer, he came to a dead stop when a laugh crept to his ears.

“Really getting into it ~ huh?” the unseen stallion mused. “Go ahead and moan all you want, it gets me going.”

Setting upon the stud with renewed vigor, energized by the praise and his first salty taste of pre-cum, he groaned around the Zebrican’s cock. He hadn’t had the slightest clue he’d made any noise whatsoever, assuming he’d been completely silent, though he had all the same. If the patron wanted him to be loud, he could definitely oblige.

His efforts instantly bore fruit, prompting the stud to thrust forward. The plunge caught him off guard, making him gag for a split second, although it did nothing to deter him - if anything, all it did was turn him on even more. Bracing himself, he drove his head forward and forced the stallionhood into his gullet.

It wasn’t the first time he’d had something filling his throat, but the difference between a silicone toy and an actual dick was night and day. The taut confines of his esophagus spasmed, his eyes watered, and he fought the urge to cough, as he pushed his nose to the glory hole. To his pleasant surprise, the tip of his snout passed though the opening.

“That’s - Mmmph - impressive,” the zebra grunted, shifting slightly. “Hold still, I’m gonna rut your face.”

Without the slightest bit of hesitation, Mac braced himself and prepared for the assault. Sure enough, after only a second or two, the stallion started to buck. He wouldn’t have minded continuing to hungrily suck off the stud, but taking a more servile role felt right - like that’s what he was meant to do. He drew breath if and when he could, uncaring for the muted, choked noises he was making, while the zebra used his mouth.

The patron was everything he could have wanted and more, assertive and domineering to a fault, although his welling bliss came with a price. His pucker angrily winked and seized upon itself, yearning to be filled. In hindsight, he should have brought his saddlebags and one of his dildos with him - tragically, hindsight was twenty-twenty. With his forehoof free, he reached back to paw at his behind.

On and on the stud went, his plunges growing hasty and frantic, until he felt the bloated head of cock swelling in his throat. His forehoof shot to his neck, feeling the bulging flare and confirming his suspicions. The stallion was about to pump a load into him, he was about to earn a taste of Zebrican seed, and he couldn’t think of a time he’d been more excited.

The affair lasted a few minutes at most, from when the patron had come in and introduced himself, yet each second he spent in the stall was a little slice of paradise. Effectively administering a hoof-job while his snout was plowed, he staved off the temptation to touch himself. This was his place, submitting himself to bigger, more powerful stallions, and accepting that pushed him to the brink.

With a guttural snarl, doing his darndest to drive his hips through the partition, the stallion hilted and peaked. Mac’s eyes bulged as a sweltering heat coursed through the throbbing length and straight down his throat. Starved of air, sitting in a growing pool of his own pre-cum, he held steady and did what he could to ignore his burning lungs.

With a satisfied grunt, just as quickly as he’d begun, the stud hopped back and withdrew his softening length. The withdrawal was almost instantaneous, leaving Mac with an aching throat and only the smallest taste of jizz, but there was nothing he could do. Savoring the viscous vestiges of seed on his tongue, he licked his lips.

“Not too bad,” the stud huffed, sounding winded. “You gonna be back tomorrow?”

“E - Cough - e…eeeyup,” he weakly replied, his throat sore and voice hoarse.

Suddenly alone, Mac took stock of the situation. There was no way for him to tell if the anonymous stud had first checked the opposing stall, peeking in to see if an ass was eagerly waiting to be plowed, and he’d be willing to lay a few bits on the line that at least one of the other patrons would be eager to sink their dick into something other than a muzzle. Turning and prying the plywood from the opening behind him, he moved with a purpose.

He pushed himself up, slipped his lower half through the ass-shaped hole, and enthusiastically slid his muzzle into tape-lined orifice in front of him. He’d come this far, getting his face fucked by a perfect stranger, so he may as well get the full experience. Repositioning himself, he discovered the position he was in was far more comfortable than he’d initially thought it would be.

As he stood with his hindquarters stuffed through one opening and his snout another, his ears swiveled to the door. Unable to see anything but the wall ahead of him, he had to rely on his sense of hearing to tell if anypony was going to pay him a visit. The subtle sounds of chatter from outside and down the corridor let him know that the bar wasn’t vacant, but that was no guarantee he’d get any more action.

Tapping a forehoof, he tried and failed not to be impatient. Things would have been different if he’d gotten himself off with his admirer, giving him some relief, but he chose not to dwell on it. At worst, he’d slink back to his hotel room and ride one of his toys until he couldn’t stand up straight, so he wasn’t too concerned.

Musing on what he’d just done, with the cloying taste of a stranger’s nut coating his mouth, he stiffened when he heard a quartet - no, an octet moving in his direction. His one saving grace was that nopony could see the nervous sweat beading his brow, nor how deep his blush had become, as he opened his mouth and invitingly extended his tongue. Two doors creaked open, he could hear a pair of voices chuckling to themselves, and what could only be a hoof caressed his rump, filling him with overwhelming glee.

“She has got an ass on her,” one zebra boasted.

The other stud wasted no time, standing and bringing his stallionhood to Mac’s snout. “Well if she’s half the cock sucker Chuma claims she is, I think we’ll both be happy.”

Set upon by the duo, Mac was at a loss. As the stud behind him mounted him, feeling a pair of firm, strong hooves lock around his hips, a dick was crammed into his mouth. Despite himself, he whimpered and bucked back against his nameless lover, wanting - needing to be filled. In the blink of an eye, his wish was granted and his virginity surrendered.

He practically came as soon as a cock was buried in his behind, mewling and croaking around the stallionhood swabbing his gullet. The newcomers weren’t nearly as reserved as his first visitor, plowing him without the slightest bit of restraint - still, as unsettling as the development should have been, it drove him positively wild. It only took him a moment to collect himself and embrace his role, acting as a set of warm, welcoming holes for the zebras to satisfy their bestial urges.

Inexperienced though he was, he flung himself at duo with gusto. He rolled his hips back against one stud, rhythmically relaxing and clenching his stuffed hole, while his tongue lavished the stallionhood in his maw. His actions were impetuous and unrefined, motivated by little more than his sexual appetite, yet neither of his lovers seemed to mind.

“Nnnph - this bitch is thirsty,” the stud rutting his ass exclaimed. “She’s pushing back like a mare in heat!”

A harsh laugh rang in Mac’s ears, as the second stallion knocked on the wall. “If he cums before I do, I’m gonna breed your ass, slut.”

The proclamation was the nail in Mac’s coffin, casting him over the edge and into a tumultuous sea of ecstasy. His legs buckled, threatening to give way beneath him, while he painted the floor under him with his spunk. Feebly continuing to do everything in his power to get the duo off, he weathered his climax and forced himself to keep going.

He only knew a hoofful of ponies who were gay, including his own cousin, so he leaned heavily on his instincts and the articles he’d read. While some stallions preferred a completely submissive partner, the overwhelming majority supposedly liked when their mate took a more active role - in light of that alleged fact, he wasn’t about to throw in the towel. Coming down from his rapturous high, he slammed his ass into reverse to meet the stud’s thrusts.

Honestly, he couldn’t care less if he got another helping of foal-batter flowing down his throat - not after hearing what the zebra had said. Having a stallion cum from him sucking them off had been incredible beyond words, far better than he’d hoped it would be, so he couldn’t wait to be properly bred. With his mouth and behind full, barely able to move, he gave as good as he got.

The duo weren’t quite as well-endowed as the first zebra had been, even being smaller than his toys, but the size of their stallionhoods was overshadowed by their vehemence. They showed no concern for him, plowing his muzzle and ass like he was merely an object to be used, and he loved every second of their ferocity. Grunting and snarling, uncaring for his comfort, the pair gradually hastened their pace.

In a blissful haze, losing track of time, he moved like a machine. His first orgasm was eventually met by a second, sundering his concentration and almost making him collapse, but he somehow managed to stay on his hooves. Screwing him with reckless abandon and with seemingly endless endurance, he couldn’t tell how close either of the two was getting to their limit - that was until the stud hammering his backside roared.

With no warning whatsoever, the stallion behind him sheathed his length and came. Heat blossomed in his abdomen, as what felt like pints of seed surged into his depths. Stunned by the amazing sensation, shuddering to a halt, he yelped when the stud dismounted, hauled his spasming length free, and painted his ass with the final few shots of sweltering jizz.

“Guess that means you’re up,” the zebra croaked.

The stallion who’d been using Mac’s muzzle instantaneously withdrew, hopping back and cantering to the stall his companion had just left. There was no buildup, no grace or affection - the zebra simply took to fucking him like a crazed beast. With barely enough strength to stand, he fell still and listened to the sound of his battered ass slurping and squelching as he was mercilessly pounded.

Struggling to remain standing, feeling like the second zebra would last forever, he howled out when the stud pulled his dock and hilted him. He could feel spunk leaking out of his ass and down his balls, but the overwhelming majority of sweltering jizz was deposited far too deeply to escape. Biting his bottom lip when the stud pulled out and jumped free, all but literally cum-drunk, he peeked over his shoulder and at the wall when his ass was given what he supposed was a congratulatory slap.

What the zebra had done was anypony’s guess, but he was given no time to think about it. As one set of hooves trailed off into the distance, another set drew nearer. An exhausted smile graced his lips, he flagged his tail, and he summoned the strength to keep himself upright. Even if he had to crawl his way back to his hotel, he wasn’t going anywhere until everypony in the bar had gotten their fill…

Chapter 3

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Stashing his dildo beneath his mattress, away from prying eyes, Mac wistfully smiled. He knew the relief was temporary, that the high of the climax he’d just given himself would fade through the day, but it was better than nothing. He turned and trotted out of his room, drawn by the smell of freshly made pancakes wafting upstairs from the kitchen.

His time in Manehattan had been absolutely incredible, yet it had left him a changed stallion. He’d ultimately ended up visiting the Black Stripe every single night he’d been in town, and each of his trips to the seedy bar had been more perverse than the last. The zebras had done things with him - to him, that would make a whore blush, although their treatment of him had come with a cost.

He hadn’t minded finding out that they’d written all manner of demeaning things on his flanks and backside, having found arrows pointing to his backdoor or comments about how his balls were useless, nor had he been bothered when he’d been blindfolded and guided into a different chamber to be freely plowed like a living sex-toy - if anything, he’d been thrilled with both of those developments. The real issue he’d been left with was internal, the ramifications of what he’d been through, and he had nopony to blame but himself. After sampling the forbidden fruit, feeling how amazing it was to be used by stallions, he yearned for more.

“G’mornin’, Mac,” Granny chirped, waving from the table. “Ya sleep well last night?”

He nodded, wrenched from his lecherous musings. “Eeeyup.”

His family, both the ones in Sweet Apple Acres and those he’d gone to see in Manehattan, had been none the wiser about his perversions. The marker that had been applied to him had washed out of his crimson coat, the degrading names and sinful things that he’d been peppered with had been for his ears alone, and the seed that had drenched his interior was a bittersweet memory. Walking past Applejack and to the table, he eased himself into his chair and flinched when he felt the cool wood kiss his pucker.

One small consequence of repeatedly abusing his behind was that his once virginal pucker had grown to accommodate the increasingly frequent use - literally. The soft, yielding flesh of his backdoor had become more prominent, appearing not unlike a large, yielding donut, and he was honestly lucky that nopony had noticed it - that or if anypony had noticed it, they’d spared him the ignominy of pointing it out. As he flicked his tail out to the side, the corners of his lips turned up when he recalled how some nameless stud had called his hole a pussy.

Swallowing a mouthful of flapjack, Applejack smirked over at him. “Looks like somepony’s in good spirits.”

Giving a second nod, unable to keep the smile from his muzzle, he reached for his fork. “Eeeyup.”

He was in decent spirits, but that was temporary. Since he’d gotten back to Ponyville, his days had been mostly the same; he’d wake up, eat breakfast with his kin, toil in the fields, and then fuck himself silly before going to bed. While he didn’t mind his routine, taking comfort that he’d accepted his love of anal, he was well aware that things could be better than they were - if only because of the town’s newest resident.

It had come as a pleasant surprise when he’d learned that Shaka, the titanic cousin of Zecora, was building a small hut for himself just within the Everfree forest. Receiving news that the adonic stud, the very stallion who’d inadvertently set him on a path of self-discovery, was now living within trotting distance was a mixed bag. While he was happy that he’d be seeing the giant stallion again, he still grappled with how to speak to the majestic zebra.

After finishing their meal in relative silence, the quartet cleaned up and parted ways. Granny tottered off to feed the animals, Applejack went to mend a loose wagon wheel, and he accompanied Apple Bloom toward the front door. He didn’t have to accompany his little sister on her way to school, but he had to pick up a sack of grain and some rope from the Barnyard Bargains shop in town. Seeing as how he was headed in the same direction as his youngest sibling, he figured it wouldn’t hurt anything to join her.

He happily listened to Apple Bloom prattle on about her classwork, her friends, and her adventures in and around Ponyville while they made their way into town, making the trip a pleasant one. Between the filly’s chattiness and his stoicism, listening to her throughout their journey, they arrived at the schoolhouse in what felt like a matter of minutes. Tousling her mane before she could gallop off to meet Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle, he looked over in the direction of the general store.

As he shifted his weight and pressed onward, his eyes drifted in the Everfree in the distance. He’d nearly bumped into Shaka twice in the last week, and on both occasions he’d surreptitiously excused himself before speaking with the striped stallion. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to interact with the zebra - quite the opposite, in fact, although merely being in the presence of the giant stud left him feeling weak. Meandering down the street and into the shop, he thoughtlessly moved down one aisle.

Before he knew it, he’d made his purchases, slung the sack of grain onto his back, and stepped outside. An unfortunate side effect of his budding carnality was that he was only recently starting to notice how boring a great many things were. He loved his family and the quaint little life he had for himself, yet the naughty things he’d done for himself were electrifying. Rounding a corner and crossing the road, he slowed when a towering figure emerged from behind a building.

He recognized Shaka in an instant, making his limbs lock up and bringing him to a halt. As he went to look away from the stallion, not wanting to draw attention to himself, the behemoth peered in his direction and waved a hoof. Licking his lips and feeling his pulse start to race, feeling his fight or flight instincts beginning to activate, he powerlessly watched the giant come casually sauntering over to him.

“Big Mac,” the giant began, coming to a stop before him, “it feels like it’s been forever since I’ve spoken with you.”

‘E…eeeyup,” he wheezed, suddenly feeling parched.

Shaka smirked down at him and cocked his head slightly to the side. “You haven’t been avoiding me ~ have you?”

With his hair standing on end and his stomach twisting in on itself, Mac shook his head. “Nope!”

The giant chuckled as he leaned in and playfully elbowed his chest. “I jest, of course - that said, I still need to repay you for your help,” he continued. Apparently noticing the confused look on the pony’s face, he peaked a brow. “You gave me directions and greeted me at the train station, even though you didn’t say much at the time.”

Slowly nodding his head, Mac didn’t know how to reply. The mention of being repaid for his kindness was antithetical to who he was, never once having asked for anything in return for an act of kindness, yet he was tempted to see what, if anything the stallion had in mind. With a timid grin on his face, he peered into the frosty pools that were the zebra’s eyes.

“I - oh!” the stallion started, glancing over his shoulder. “I nearly forgot to mention it, but have you heard I’ll soon be living just outside town?”

Mac reared back in feigned surprise. “Nope!”

Shaka turned and pointed off in the distance. “My home will be a short distance from Zecora’s hut, albeit a bit closer to the treeline. I’d invite you to my cousin’s house for a cup of tea and to see the construction, but -”

“Ah…” he interrupted, his voice nearly as faint as a whisper, “Ah’d like that…”

His legs threatened to collapse, his throat was tight, and he could tell without looking that he was a brighter shade of red than usual, yet he held himself steady and somehow managed to hold the zebra’s gaze. He couldn’t have anticipated running into Shaka, much less being asked to join the stud for tea, but he wasn’t about to let such an opportunity pass him by. As the stallion beamed and gradually turned in place, his heart skipped a beat.

Trotting away, Shaka waved for him to follow. “And you’re certain that now is a good time? I’d hate to inconvenience you if you’re busy.”

Cantering forward to catch up with the lumbering colossus, he shook his head. “Eeeyup.”

Since there was enough feed at the barn to last several days, it couldn’t hurt anything to take a bit of time out of his day to be polite - at least that would be his story if Applejack or Granny Smith asked him why he’d taken so long getting back to the homestead. Briskly trotting to keep up with the behemoth, he caught himself slipping glances over at the zebra. The logical part of his brain begged him not to get his hopes up, that expecting anything other than tea and perhaps a brief chat would be silly, yet his imagination paid little heed to his common sense. He subconsciously slowed while they moved to the outskirts of town, allowing him to more easily inspect his massive host.

Though he tried not to stare at the midnight-black sheath and weighty, pendulous balls hanging from the stud’s groin, it was impossible not to eye Shaka’s goods. He glanced up to the stud’s face from time to time, ensuring he wouldn’t be caught with his metaphorical hoof in the cookie jar, but his anxiety was steadily replaced by mounting excitement. Past the fields outside of town and to the edge of the forest he marched, until he and the stud were enveloped in shadow.

Coming to a stop as he crested a hill, Shaka motioned to his left. “It may not look like much right now, but this will be my home soon.”

Mac looked over at the construction and silently evaluated the work. While he’d never received any formal training on how to build much of anything, the foundation, framing, and all appeared to be of high quality - moreover, he could tell that the structure would be relatively sizable. Trotting closer to the site, trying to make out what the various rooms would be, he started when a massive hoof came to rest on his shoulders.

“Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a nice little kitchen, and a fine den - more than enough room for a bachelor,” Shaka remarked, peering over at what would be his house.

Pursing his lips, Mac laconically nodded his head. A bachelor - Shaka had just referred to himself as a bachelor. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself, but the idea that the giant was single evoked an unfamiliar sense of giddiness in him. Seeing the zebra pivot and continue toward Zecora’s hut, he followed along after the colossus.

“So I have heard that you’re a stallion of few words,” the stud noted, peeking over his shoulder at him.

“Ah…eeeyup,” he answered, turning his eyes to the ground.

Without breaking stride, Shaka sighed. “Shame - though I’ve only heard a little of it, you have a beautiful voice…”

Literally stumbling, Mac nearly toppled to the earth. He’d been called many things over the years, but he’d never had anypony refer to any part of him as beautiful - even throughout his time at the Black Stripe, when his admirers had called him all sorts of slatternly things, nopony had called him beautiful. Mutely flapping his jaw, attempting to form some sort of a coherent reply, he noticed the giant’s grin broaden.

“Perhaps you’ll find your voice once we relax,” Shaka murmured.

Mac considered himself fortunate that they reached Zecora’s doorstep within minutes, although he cursed his luck shortly after being seen inside. The potion maker’s house was just as he remembered it, festooned with Zebrican art, bottled elixirs, and with a huge cauldron sitting in the middle of the central chamber, but the mare herself was nowhere to be seen. Fidgeting, he was left to wonder if he was alone with the stallion.

With a grace that belied his gargantuan size, Shaka closed the door behind him and strolled over to an oversized sofa at the far end of the circular room. “Come and make yourself comfortable.”

Glancing to the kitchen, Mac scrunched his snout. Though there was a teapot sitting beside the stove, there was no trace of steam - leading him to believe his host was more interested in his company than he was having a drink. Sweeping his gaze across the interior of the home, he intentionally avoided looking at the stud while looking for anything out of place.

The titan seated himself lengthwise upon the piece of furniture and beckoned to him. “The tea can wait for a time, unless you’re exceptionally thirsty.”

Swinging his eyes over to the reclined zebra, Mac took a hesitant step closer to his host and shook his head. He couldn’t care less about the tea, especially if he really was alone with the hulking hunk of a zebra, but he didn’t want to tip his hoof - not yet. He’d just passed the cauldron, cautiously drawing nearer to his host, when the giant shifted.

“May I ask a question?” Shaka serenely inquired. Once Mac nodded, he grinned. “Is there any particular reason you’re fascinated by me?”

Mac froze, woefully unprepared for the blunt question. His blush deepened, he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, and he gulped as he stared down at the floor. He’d thought he’d been relatively furtive, unobtrusively and briefly peeking at the stallion on their short trot to the forest, although it appeared as though his efforts had been in vain.

Smiling just as tranquilly as ever, unperturbed by his flustered guest, Shaka dismissively waved a hoof. “I meant no offense, in part because I find you rather charming.”

The admission threw his mind into utter chaos. Even if he could have found his voice, what in the world was he supposed to say to being called charming? Considering his options, uncertain if “charming” had a different meaning in Zebrica, he lifted his gaze when the stud snickered. Shaka hadn’t moved from the couch, although the position he’d taken was nothing short of staggeringly provocative.

“See for yourself,” the colossus breathed, peering down at himself.

Instead of laying on his side or stomach, as one would do while simply trying to relax, the stud had rolled to his side and unabashedly cocked one hind leg upward. The stallion’s pose was like something he’d seen in one of his PlayMare magazines, and the sight nearly broke him. The broad chest, flat abdomen, and powerful build of the zebra was put on full display, yet it was the onyx length languidly slipping from Shaka’s sheath that held his full attention.

Though the urge to flee was still there, compelling him to bolt for the door, he took another step, followed by a second and third, until he was almost within reach of the basking adonis. An erection was something that was impossible for a stallion to fake, as far as he knew, so seeing that his host was getting visibly excited meant one of two things - either Shaka was lying through his teeth and thinking about something exceptionally stimulating or he was the cause of the zebra’s arousal. He swallowed, realizing his mouth had started watering, and willed himself to shy away.

Regardless of what Shaka thought of him, it simply wasn’t right to gawk at his host. Aside from being rude, openly ogling the stud could and possibly would make his life more complicated. It was one thing to fantasize about stallions in the privacy of his room, it was another to have Ponyville’s newest resident gabbing about how he had an unhealthy attraction to studs - particularly the big, striped variety. Sensing himself growing hard, he turned slightly to cover his welling shame.

“Oh please,” Shaka boomed. “Modesty doesn’t suit you, Big Mac, although I’m still a bit bewildered about your title - you see, I’m much, much bigger than you…”

In one of the rarer moments in his life, Mac was genuinely speechless. With a single comment, he’d been simultaneously knocked down a peg and had one of his newfound fetishes teased. He averted his gaze, wanting to hear and see more yet too bashful to make a move, and apprehensively swatting a lock of mane from his face.

“Could you - no,” the titan quietly gasped, unseating himself and marching over.

The approach was so sudden and forceful that Mac felt a pang of concern. With a gigantic hoof brought to his jaw, his head was turned to look up at the stallion. Once again, he felt small - so very, very small, and the alien sensation set his nerves alight. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breath, and he could scarcely form a thought, as the giant leaned in and stared into his wide, fearful eyes.

Shaka relented after only a moment, releasing him and taking a large step back. “Am I the first stallion to catch your eye? I may be mistaken - surely I am mistaken, but your coyness is -”

“E…eeeyup,” Mac sputtered.

“You jest,” Shaka insisted, holding a hoof to his bosom as if stricken. “A stallion as comely and demure as yourself must have had -”

Casting his head from side to side, wading through his worry, Mac donned a sheepish smile. “Nope…”

“Sorry. You must forgive me,” the zebra muttered, returning to and seating himself upon the sofa. “I’d assumed you were simply toying with me, but it seems that wasn’t the case. And you’ve not fancied a stallion before you met me?”

“N…nope,” he stammered.

While he detested misleading anypony, it was a relatively harmless omission of truth. He had slept with stallions before, those few patrons of the bar he’d gone to, but this was his first time openly confessing his feelings to anypony face to face. His host chuckled and shook his head in amusement before shamelessly splaying his legs.

“Since this appears to be a novel experience for the both of us, let’s try to enjoy ourselves. It’s as clear as the sun on a cloudless day that we’re both a bit worked up, so how about we indulge ourselves,” he purred, reaching down to caress his semi-rigid length. “And since you’re my guest, I would be remiss for not allowing you to seize the initiative…”

As unbelievable as it was, the words and actions of Mac’s host left no room for doubt - the zebra liked him, or at the very least wasn’t opposed to giving him a roll in the hay. Shuffling closer to the stallion, he hungrily eyed Shaka’s goods. He’d bet good bits that the stud’s endowment was vastly larger than any of the visitor’s he’d serviced in Manehattan, but there was only one way to be sure of that…

Lowering his head and drawing his cheek up Shaka’s powerful thigh, he breathed in the heady musk radiating from the zebra’s loins. He’d initially thought that Zebricans didn’t bathe, initially taken by surprise by how strong they all smelled, but he was beginning to suspect that their unique aroma had nothing to do with hygiene. As his snout neared the giant’s plump, heavy nuts, he closed his eyes.

“Ah ah -” Shaka tutted, prompting the pony to look up at him, “I’ll have none of that. I want you to look at me while you serve me.”

Mac gulped but did as he’d been asked, maintaining eye contact as gave the zebra’s balls a small, introductory kiss. He’d licked the nuts and even the asses of a few anonymous patrons at the Black Stripe, finding the activity far more exhilarating than he’d thought it would be, although this time was different. Peering up at the stud and seeing the approving smile on his face, he quietly moaned.

Remaining where he was, Shaka winked down at the pony. “Such a good little mare - so eager, so nervous! You’ve been wanting this for so long ~ haven’t you?”

Fighting his instinct to look away, Mac dragged his tongue up the stud’s balls and to the thick folds of flesh that was Shaka’s sheath. Familiar tastes of sweat and flesh danced over his palate, spurring him onward. While the exchange was totally unexpected, like something out of a dream or a piece of cheesy erotic literature, he was overjoyed that his crush, the very stallion who’d awoken a part of him he hadn’t known existed, found him appealing.

“It’s ok, I understand,” Shaka sighed with an almost wounded expression on his face. “You can be honest with me, I promise. Since you first saw me, you’ve thought about how I could be the only stallion to treat you how you want to be treated…”

“Eeeyup,” Mac whispered, peeking past the obsidian behemoth draped over his face.

“And I bet you’ve dreamt of doing this for years,” the stud added with a glint in his eyes. “Or maybe - just maybe, you have a particular liking for zebras…”

Using his lips and tongue to lavish his host’s shaft, Mac didn’t - couldn’t reply. The zebra had been partially correct on both accounts, and it fanned the flames of his lust. Opening his jaw and extending his tongue as he reached the Shaka’s cock-head, moments filling his muzzle, he stopped when he saw the stern look on the stallion’s face.

“I don’t mind your silence - in fact, I find it quite charming, although I do have one question I want you to answer. When I called you a good little mare, your tail flagged,” Shaka purred. “Would you like me to keep referring to you as my little mare?”

As his exhilaration warred with his shame, Mac broke the stallion’s gaze. “Eeeyup…”

“Then by all means, my little mare,” the zebra mused, “serve me and show me just how badly you wish to have a real stallion in your life…”

The bit of encouragement and the emasculating comment was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Leaning in and reaching out with his forehoof, draped over one of the zebra’s lower legs, Mac wrapped his lips around the immense tip of Shaka’s length. He couldn’t fathom why being demeaned thrilled him so much, yet being belittled by domineering stallions turned him on like nothing ever had.

Though it was a bit of a struggle, having to remind himself to keep his eyes forward, he managed to look up at Shaka while sucking the stud off. It had been nearly a month since he’d returned from Manehattan, but he’d continued practicing his oral skills on his toys - a routine he was instantly thankful for. Stroking the thick root of cock with his hoof, he drove his head downward and filled his lungs.

There was no doubt about it, Shaka was way more heavily endowed than any of the studs who’d swabbed his throat or plowed his ass at the bar, but that wasn’t enough to deter him from giving his very best. Though he winced as the bloated cock-head sank into his gullet, feeling his esophagus spasm at the intrusion, he didn’t relent. Further and further he descended, literally choking himself on the behemoth, until his lips graced the colossus’ medial ring.

He could have pushed himself further, attempting to fully hilt Shaka in his muzzle, although he resignedly decided against it. This was his chance to prove himself, to earn the stud’s approval, and he wasn’t about to let his hubris crush his chances. Rearing back just enough to get a sip of air, he started blowing his host in earnest.

His jaw was strained, his stallionhood was so hard that it hurt, and his backdoor angrily clenched from the lack of attention, yet he ignored them all. This wasn’t about him, his needs or wants weren’t important - no, the only thing that mattered was ensuring Shaka was pleased with his efforts. Softly gagging and moaning around the stallion’s shaft, mopping it of sweat and saliva with his lips, he gave an impulsive wink up at his generous host.

“Now I know you were lying,” Shaka hummed. “I bet you’ve got stallions knocking at your door morning, noon, and night to be with you.”

Withdrawing and freeing his snout with a soft pop, Mac shook his head. “Nope.”

“Amazing - truly amazing,” the stud chortled. “I can’t speak for anypony else but - well, the results speak for themselves. I haven’t been this turned on in ages.”

Again, the words rang true. The zebra was fully erect and leaking pre-cum, having coated Mac’s tongue in the thick, salty substance, and he’d clearly been enjoying himself. As he went to pick up where he’d left off, fully intent on fellating his host, the stallion sat up and extended a foreleg to stop him.

“Not to come off as too hasty, but would you mind if we moved this along?” Shaka politely inquired.

“N…nope!” Mac guiltily replied, slipping off the sofa.

Shaka followed suit, easing himself to the floor before trotting across the room. “Be a dear and make yourself comfortable for me - preferably on your back.”

Looking to the couch, realizing that the piece of furniture would be less than ideal for anything other than foreplay, Mac knit his brow. Zecora’s bed was the only one in the house, so far as he was aware, and he was reluctant to defile where she slept with an erotic act - be that as it may, he had been given a command. Rushing across the chamber and into a small alcove set to the side, he flung himself onto the alchemist’s mattress and rolled onto his back.

Trotting over with a small vial of liquid balanced in one forehoof, Shaka tittered to himself. “You’re quite alluring when you’re enthusiastic ~ has anypony ever told you that?”

Repositioning himself, Mac brought his tush to the edge of the bed’s side. “N…nope…”

“No need to be shy,” Shaka cooed. “Spread those legs and let me get a good, long look at the succulent ass of yours.”

Mac faltered but complied, splaying his hind legs for his host. What little embarrassment he felt was eclipsed by the blinding light of his desires, allowing him to show off his comparably small stallionhood and pronounced backdoor. With his cock draped over his abdomen, leaking pre-cum like a broken faucet, he watched as the zebra poured an opalescent fluid over his package and pucker.

“This should help both of us enjoy ourselves,” Shaka explained, setting the bottle aside.

Darned if Mac knew what he’d just been doused with, but he couldn’t have cared less. Within a matter of seconds, a feeling of warmth crept up his loins. It only made sense that the liquid had been some sort of potion, and that Shaka, being the cousin of an apothecary, was familiar with elixirs and their uses, yet the revelation made him feel a bit silly. Reaching up and pulling a pillow under his head, he readied himself for the inevitable.

Shaka stepped up and onto the bed, placing his forehooves to either side of Mac’s hips, and smiled down at the pony’s face. “Do you know why I asked you to be on your back?”

There were a thousand potential reasons why he’d been asked to lay supine, not the least of which being that he was about to be rutted like a mare in heat - he hoped, so he gave an honest answer. “Nope…”

“It’s your eyes,” Shaka answered, shuffling forward and kissing the head of his cock to the pony’s slickened hole. “I want to look into those beautiful emeralds as I make you a mare - my mare…”

The sensation of the bloated tip of stallionhood against his pucker, paired with the promise of being made Shaka’s mare, was enough to drive Mac mad. Bringing his fetlocks up to the stud’s hips, he flexed his legs and pulled. In that moment, staring into the face of the most handsome equine in all of existence, he wanted nothing more than to surrender his masculinity and be fucked like a lucky filly on prom night.

As Shaka steadied himself and drove his hips forward, his backdoor yielded with startling ease. He couldn’t count how many times he’d wantonly screwed himself with his dildos, and he’d been plowed by at least a half-dozen different stallions back at the bar, yet being filled by the titan was different and more wondrous than any of his past experiences. Every inch of glorious cock that ground into his depths sent waves of pleasure coursing through him, there wasn’t a bit of discomfort, and his composure nearly broke from the penetration alone.

“You’re so warm and snug,” Shaka contently sighed. “It’s almost like we’re made for one another.”

Mac almost came as the thick band of flesh marking the lower portion of the zebra’s shaft glided over his prostate, but he was able to keep himself from cumming. He’d never felt so full in his entire life, and the stud hadn’t even hilted him yet! Looking down his body, seeing the imprint of Shaka’s dick within his abdomen, he was unprepared for when his host started to move.

Rolling his hips back and freeing a portion of his shaft, Shaka began thrusting slowly. Each plunge was delicate, almost loving, causing Mac to stifle himself - at least he tried to stifle himself. No sooner did he reach for his snout than the titan grabbed his forelegs and pinned them to the bed.

“No,” the giant rumbled, “I want to hear you moan…”

And moan Mac did. He whimpered and turned his head to the side, biting his lip in a vain attempt to stop the unseemly noises escaping him, but it was no use. Bucking up to meet Shaka’s bucking hips, all but fucking himself on the colossus, he gave himself fully to the striped adonis.

The climax which struck him was monumental, flensing his sanity and leaving him a gibbering, gushing mess, but Shaka wasn’t finished with him - not by a long shot. Pounding into him, beaming all the while, the carnal demigod gave a little snort. It was only with the utmost willpower, virtually forcing himself to look upward, that he met the stud’s eyes.

“You - Mmmph - may not be mine yet, but you will be,” Shaka growled, leaning in and biting the pony’s collar.

For a second time, Mac came and brayed to the heavens. The tinge of pain mingled with his rapture, sending him to ever-greater heights of ecstasy. He’d felt certain that Shaka would be an impeccable lover, yet he’d underestimated the overwhelming, incomprehensible amorous might of the titan ruining him.

Weaving in and out of consciousness, weathering one orgasm after another, Mac fought tooth and hoof not to black out. Laying there, being made love to in such an unimaginable way, was indescribable, and he wished it would never end - sadly, all good things had to come to an end. Rocking forward and back atop the sheets, with his hole being dragged out and stuffed back in with each of Shaka’s thrusts, he felt the stallionhood within him begin to flare.

Pistoning into Mac at full speed, Shaka grunted through gritted teeth. “Scream for me…”

The sensation of scalding seed coursing through his depths, pumped into him by the zebra’s pulsing length, brought with it the most powerful climax of Mac’s life. His shrill, marish wail of bliss echoed throughout the hut and to his ears, sounding almost alien, yet he paid it little heed. He may have been rutted by the stallions at the bar, but now he was truly claimed.

His eyelids fluttered and he heaved air into his chest as the stallion eventually dismounted. If somepony had told him that he was dreaming, he may have just believed them, so all-encompassing was his euphoria - nevertheless, he had just enough strength to shudderingly lift his head and roll to his side. There was something he had to do, and he wasn’t going to even think about leaving until he’d done it.

Turning around, he pulled his face over the side of the bed and dutifully opened his maw. It was a mare’s duty to clean her stallion after he was finished with her, so he did just that. With a smirk plastered on his muzzle, Shaka presented his twitching, cum-slathered length to him. He didn’t hesitate, lapping at the slickened shaft with as much vigor as he could muster, and was rewarded with a pleased chuckle from above.

“Good mare,” Shaka mused…

Chapter 4

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He wasn’t one to wax poetic about anything, much less a pony, but it would be hard for him to fully articulate all the incredible things about the zebra who was slowly capturing his heart. Shaka was a paragon of masculinity; immense in every way and with a rich, resonant voice that made him feel tingly all over, but those were just aspects of the stud’s physical appeal. Thinking of how the stallion treated him, he ground his thighs together.

Shaka treated him like an honest to goodness mare, pampering him and lavishing him with flattery and compliments whenever they were together, to the point where he was starting to question how he looked at himself. He’d always thought of himself as a stallion, acting and portraying himself in a way to accommodate the expectations of his appearance, although that was gradually beginning to change. The more he was around the Zebrican, the more he found himself adopting certain traits - traits which were getting progressively more difficult to hide from his family and the public at large.

Though Shaka hadn’t pressured him in the slightest, merely offering suggestions on ways to make him more appealing when they were with one another, his prolonged exposure to the stallion was having an effect on him. His hips swung ever so slightly when he walked, his once-proud posture was more submissive than it used to be, and he’d started growing out his mane and tail. He honestly didn’t mind the slight alterations, only having been made aware of them when Applejack had asked why he was acting differently, but he was mildly concerned that things would only get more noticeable as time went on.

His musings of the zebra reminded him of a relatively new part of his morning routine - one he’d been doing his best to adhere to. Slipping off the bed and getting to his hooves, he trotted over to his dresser, opened the top drawer and reached to the back of the small compartment. The little ritual was completely optional, a mere suggestion from his gargantuan lover, yet he’d steadfastly stuck to it every single day.

Pulling a small bottle from out of the drawer, he squinted down at the odd elixir. The stuff didn’t taste bad, nor did it have any immediate effects, but he was curious about exactly what it was supposed to do. Bringing the vial to his lips, he tilted his head back and gave himself a swig of the liquid.

Shaka had given him the potion after their second furtive and claimed that it was supposed to enhance his features and bring out his true self - whatever that was supposed to mean. He licked his lips and swallowed, turning the bottle over in his hoof before taking a second, smaller drink of the elixir. Though his instructions had been clear, to only take a single dose of the cocktail every morning, he figured that a pony of his size might need a little more than usual.

After stashing the vial back in the drawer, he trotted out of his room and into the hallway. Barring any problems that may appear in the orchard, such as a paraspite infestation or the appearance of fruit bats, work on the farm would be pretty slow for the next two months or so - until the fall harvest season would be upon his family. Ordinarily, he’d busy himself with things around the homestead, but that was before he had a special somepony in his life.

He entered the restroom, kicked the door closed behind himself, and proceeded to the tub, fully prepared to start his day with a shower, but paused as he passed the mirror. Since he’d never considered himself the vain type, only worrying about his appearance if or when he had formal occasions to tend to, he’d hadn’t paid much attention to his aesthetic until recently. Gazing at his reflection, he brushed a lock of golden hair from his face and smirked.

Though he was probably imagining it, he could swear he looked a little different. His curves were more accentuated, his face lacked the strong stallionly features once had, and his rump appeared bigger than it should have, making him wonder if his mind was playing tricks on him. Shrugging at himself, he stepped over to the basin and set the water to warm.

He felt as fit as a fiddle - no, better than that, so whatever concerns he had about himself, be they real or not, weren’t warranted. What others thought of him wasn’t important in the slightest - for buck’s sake, he’d trudged through town covered in mud, wore his yolk around on a regular basis, and had even crossdressed to appear at the Sisterhooves Social for Apple Bloom a few years ago! As he pulled the tab on the spigot, letting the hot water from the showerhead wash over him, he smirked.

It had been some time since he’d worn a dress, but he’d genuinely enjoyed gallivanting about as a mare with his youngest sister. Thinking back to the event and how ridiculous he must have looked, tried to remember where he’d ended up putting the dress, wig, and makeup he’d worn for his audacious outing. Grabbing the shampoo and closing his eyes, he lathered his mane furrowed his brow.

Truth be told, he didn’t think he’d have a reason to wear anything even remotely marish again in his life, although he could think of a particular stallion who may - just may enjoy seeing him in something a bit frilly. Quickly washing himself and rinsing off, he hopped out of the tub and fumbled for a towel. If he was fast enough, he should have enough time to go into the attic to rummage around for his misplaced belongings.

“Breakfast’ll be ready in ten minutes, Mac,” Granny called from outside, giving the door a sound knock for good measure.

“Eeeyup!” he enthusiastically called back.

He instantly pawed at his throat and grimaced, taken off guard by the sound of his own voice. Instead of the usual baritone, his tone had raised an octave or even two! With a hoof pressed to his muzzle, hearing Granny’s retreating hooffalls, he glanced back to the mirror. Maybe he wasn’t going crazy - maybe he really was becoming more effete. He shook his head and lightly slapped his face, telling himself that he’d be sure to ask Shaka about the potion when they met that afternoon, as he tossed the towel back onto the rack.

Drifting into the corridor, he peeked over the banister and to the first floor. Granny and his siblings were more than likely downstairs already and getting ready to eat, which gave him a few minutes of privacy. Since it was the off season, and because Bloom was out of school for the summer, it was difficult to do anything in the house without somepony being nosy. Turning his gaze upward and at the attic hatch, he reared onto his hind legs, grabbed the string hanging from the door on the ceiling.

As much as he cherished his family, they could be a little too inquisitive about what he’d been doing with his free time. He abhorred being dishonest to anypony, especially his kin, but he’d ultimately had to mislead them on why he was going out every evening. His sisters had believed him when he’d claimed to be training for a cross-country marathon, saying he was going out to exercise for hours on end, but Granny had and still was suspicious of his alibi.

Once he’d quietly unfolded the stairs and cantered into the loft, he squinted in the dim light. The family rarely went up the attic, using the area to store things that were too valuable to chuck into the barn, and he couldn’t recall the last time he’d been up there. He swiveled one ear to the entryway and took a step forward, before stopping himself and retreating.

What was he thinking? Even if he’d been able to find the stupid dress, this was a fool’s errand. His family would undoubtedly ask him what he was up to, regardless of whether or not he discovered his silly outfit, and he wasn’t prepared to lie to them - not again. Hastily withdrawing and closing the hatch behind himself, he scampered to the first floor.

“‘Bout time ya got down here,” Granny huffed.

Chewing and swallowing a mouthful of breakfast casserole, Applejack watched him intently. “So what were ya doin’ up there, prettycolt? Where ya brushin’ that mane and trimmin’ your hooves?”

He glowered over to his eldest sister as he trotted in and took his seat at the table. He didn’t have to explain himself to her, not if she wanted to tease him about his increasingly luscious locks, so he plated a serving of food for himself, grabbed his fork, and began eating without saying a word. What he did with himself was his own business, so long as it wasn’t bothering anypony else, and he intended to keep it that way - unfortunately, there was more than one meddlesome mare at the table.

Applebloom cleared her throat as she looked him over. “To be fair, your mane is getting kinda long. Are ya goin’ for a new look?”

“Eeeyup,” he smoothly replied, giving the filly a nod.

“And here Ah thought that hippie fad had faded,” Granny snorted. “Reckon it was only a matter a’ time until that style came back, but I hope you don’t go wearin’ none of that tie-dye nonsense; them clothes don’t look good on nopony.”

Taking a sip of her coffee, Applejack continued studying him. “Ah ain’t so much worried about tie-dye, s’much as I’m worried about that extra weight he’s been puttin’ on. The off season’s makin’ ya a little soft, Mac.”

He looked over and noticed exactly what held her attention. Instead of having her eyes on his face, she was staring down at his flank. Pursing his lips, he flicked his tail to the side to cover himself. Everypony on the farm gained a few pounds in the off season, and Applejack was no exception. Pointing to her rear and specifically the small amount of extra pudge she had herself, he smirked and peaked a brow at her.

Glancing between the pair, Granny tapped a forehoof against the table. “Y’all quit fussin’ and eat your meal. You’ll both be bustin’ your humps as soon as the harvest comes in in the fall.”

Applejack relented and went back to eating her food, as did Granny and Apple Bloom, allowing him to actually enjoy his meal. Even though it wasn’t the busiest time of the year, there would still be plenty to do after breakfast for everypony at the table. What remained of the meal was spent in relative silence, until everyone finished eating, cleaned up, and went their various ways.

With Granny knitting a sweater, Applejack going off for her morning inspection of the orchard, and Applebloom cantering into town to meet up with Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, Mac trotted to the barn to repair a hoofful of apple crates. Left to his solitude, he gathered up a hammer and a box of nails to complete his task. As he thoughtlessly set to his labor, his mind wandered back to what his eldest sister had said.

Had he really put on weight? Sweet Apple Acres didn’t have a scale for him to see if what his sister claimed was true, but he did feel a little heavier than he used to. Turning his head and leaning over, he examined his posterior with consternation. If he really had filled out a bit, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing; for starters, Shaka would probably appreciate having a little more cushion for the pushin’ - secondly and just as importantly, it wasn’t like he couldn’t whip himself back into shape if he so chose.

Systematically going through the stacks of crates, fixing the few that required his attention, he got the chore finished in less than an hour. There were a few things he could do in or around the house, if he looked hard enough, although his desire to wear something special for his big, burly stud weighed heavily upon him. A playful smirk split his muzzle and he bit back an impish snicker, when a delightfully naughty idea dawned on him.

Wearing the stuffy, admittedly conservative dress for Shaka could have been a fun change of pace, though he knew he could do better than that. After briskly returning to the home, making a pitstop in the restroom, and fetching some bits from his nightstand, he trotted back outside and onto the path leading to Ponyville. Since he wanted to surprise his stud and show himself off a bit, he wasn’t going to hold himself back.

He wasted no time getting to town, breaking into a gallop along the long, dusty road, and made a beeline to the Carousel Boutique. Buying attire wasn’t the easiest thing to do in Ponyville, but he was lucky enough to know one of the best coutures in all of Equestria. There wasn’t a piece of clothing that Rarity couldn’t custom tailor for anypony, she prided herself in pleasing her customers, and she was just open-minded enough to accommodate any outlandish requests he may have while without telling anypony about what could and potentially would be an outlandish purchase.

“Welcome to the Carouselle Boutique, how can I - Mac?” Rarity blurted, seeing the stallion burst through her door. She rushed over to greet him, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s rare for you to come here for - well, for anything really!”

Already feeling his cheeks starting to darken, he smiled down at her. In his experience, talking often complicated matters - as such, he kept his mouth shut and proceeded into the undergarments area. It was his hope that she had plus-size garments available, if only to spare his dignity and to save him from asking for a special order, and he wasn’t disappointed with what he found. Coming to a rack of lingerie, he stared in wide-eyed wonder at the sea of lace and satin.

Strolling up to his side, Rarity thoughtfully rubbed her chin. “Bit of a unique choice for a stallion such as yourself, but - wait,” she croaked, reeling back and away from him. “Big Macintosh, are you buying something special for somepony?”

“Ah…” he faltered, turning toward her while his thoughts began to race. “Eeeyup.”

Her shock instantly metamorphosed into a conspiratorial smirk. “Might I ask if - no, I shan’t pry,” she lamented, theatrically throwing a forehoof to her brow. “I’ll…I’ll be at the checkout counter, should you need me for anything.”

Nodding his thanks and waiting until she trotted away, he shifted his focus back to the dizzying array of articles. While there were a number of items in stock that would fit him, the prices on the apparel were enough to give him a moment for pause. Even the cheapest things he could see were expensive - worse still, the more revealing the garment was, the higher the price seemed to be! In a matter of minutes, balancing his budget against his impulsive desires, he selected a garter belt with a matching quartet of leggings and calmly went to make his purchase.

“A lovely ensemble, darling,” Rarity chirped as he walked up to the register. “I’m sure somepony will be very happy with these.”

Dismissively nodding, he looked over his shoulder and to the door. While he wasn’t worried about her spilling the beans about what he was buying, he couldn’t say the same for anypony else in town. On the small chance that somepony walked in and saw him getting unmentionables, he felt certain that everypony in Ponyville would hear about it sooner or later - given that, he was thankful when the seamstress neatly folded the garments and slipped them into a small paper bag.

Handing him his purchase, she rang him up and expectantly held out her hoof. “That’ll be thirty-three bits.”

He paid her without hesitation, took the bag, and nodded his thanks before turning and seeing himself out. Depending on what Shaka’s reaction was to his surprise, he could see himself going back to the boutique to invest in more lingerie, but he could think about that later - for the time being, he was compelled to try on his new, exquisitely naughty clothing, and he knew just the place to do it. Cantering through the little city, past the town hall and the southern edge of town, he galloped toward the Everfree.

Now that he had somewhere private to fool around with his titanic lover, seeing as how the zebra’s house was completed just over a week prior, he’d be able to flaunt his outfit with impunity. Shaka wouldn’t be expecting him so early, and he may not even be home, but he’d cross that bridge if and when it came to it - in fact, a part of him hoped Shaka wasn’t home. Changing into his newly acquired attire would be fun, although laying in wait for the stud, while adorned in something so sexy, would be even better.

Crossing into the treeline, he slowed as he approached Shaka’s hut. The lights in the building were off, the front door was shut, and there was no sign of life from within, filling him with hope. He’d helped the zebra move in, brought a customary apple pie, and assisted with breaking in the stud’s bed, so he was intimately familiar with the place - including where the stallion kept a spare key. Coming to a stop on the doorstep, he leaned over and peeked through one of the windows flanking the entryway.

As he suspected, the home appeared vacant. Had he been at anypony else’s house, he wouldn’t have dared to let himself in and get comfortable, but he wasn’t at anypony else’s house. Because he and Shaka had grown increasingly close over their relatively short relationship, and that he trusted the stallion implicitly with all the depraved things they’d done with one another, he wasn’t above some lighthearted trespassing.

Sneaking in without making a sound, having used and rehidden the key stashed under a rock by the entryway, he closed and locked the door behind himself. It was anypony’s guess as to when Shaka would return, which was why he scurried directly to the stud’s bedchamber. He opened the bag he carried as he went, excitedly pulled out a single legging, and snickered to himself. Yeah - the stallion - his stallion was going to be in for one heck of a shock.

The outfit was simple enough to put on, comfortable, and he was pretty confident that it looked good on him. The lavender hues of the garments clashed with his bright red coat and brilliant mane, but he wasn’t about to count his chickens before they hatched. With nothing left to do but wait, he crawled onto the bed and did just that.

As fate would have it, no more than twenty minutes after making himself comfortable, the sound of a door opening caught his ear. Unless Shaka had given somepony a key to his place, there was only one pony who’d just trotted inside. He twisted in place, propped his head on his forehoof, and struck a provocative pose while angling himself at the door and holding his breath.

Shaka didn’t notice him when he first walked in, but that changed as soon as Mac lightly smacked his flank. Freezing, the giant stud looked over to the bed and his unexpected guest. His eyes widened as they played over the pony’s body, drinking in the submissive stallion’s slatternly unmentionables, until they drifted up to his lover’s face.

“Well, well, well,” Shaka quietly began, “what have I done to deserve all this?”

Winking over at the stud, Mac ran a forehoof down his side and to his rear. Shaka had shown him a side of himself that he hadn’t known existed, and that was more than enough to earn him some special treatment. Easing himself off the bed, he strutted over and kissed the zebra’s neck.

With a sonorous hum, Shaka reached out and affectionately squeezed the pony’s rear. “How in Equestria did I get so lucky?”

Mac tittered and lifted his head to nibble his lover’s ear. Like many times before and many times yet to come, he was turned on simply by being in the same room as the titan. Rolling his hips to the side, sending his ass into the stallion’s hoof, he gave a hushed moan. The stud stepped back and away from him, creating a small gap between them, before a forehoof was brought under his chin.

“You really are a delight,” Shaka whispered. “Give me a little turn. I’d love to see that ensemble you got to spoil me with.”

Grinning like an idiot, Mac lazily spun in a circle. The act of flaunting himself in such an audacious way was positively liberating, yet it wasn’t as exciting as the zebra’s reaction to seeing him. Slipping from its sheath and hanging beneath him, growing larger with every beat of the stud’s heart, Shaka’s stallionhood was irrefutable proof that his plan had worked wonders.

Shaka chuckled and glanced back at his endowment. “I hope somepony is going to take responsibility for this…”

Mac would happily ensure the stud got some relief, but he wanted to do something a little different this time. Shaka had tenderly pushed him to be more assertive, take pride in being submissive while still taking an active role, and his persistence was having an effect. He turned and pointed to the bed, keeping his hooves crossed that the domineering colossus wouldn’t ask him to speak.

Obliging his mute request, Shaka stepped over and onto the bed. He followed moments after, moving to the foot of the bed to stare up at the stud. He’d grown more and more comfortable with serving the titan, steadily replacing the use of his toys with sucking or getting fucked by the zebra’s incredible cock, and he was thrilled to give another performance.

Crawling up the mattress, once Shaka had laid down and rolled to his back, he peered up at the stallion’s groin. The fat, ripe balls and huge length which greeted his eyes made his tail instinctively flag and flick to the side. He’d be filled soon enough, having his backdoor stuffed with dick, although that could wait until he’d properly tended to his mate.

Bringing his face between the zebra’s thighs, he drew a deep breath and shuddered. Shaka’s smell was as alluring as ever. Almost overpowering, far stronger than that of any pony stallion he’d ever been around, the musk filling his sinuses was intoxicatingly potent. Ignoring his twitching backdoor, he drew his tongue up the pair of meaty cum-tanks and to the base of his lover’s length.

“The - Mmmmm - garter belt suits you well,” Shaka fondly remarked.

Getting his knees under himself, Mac lifted his hips and arched his back. There had been a small number of times when he’d tried to act sexy for his stud, but this time was different. The marish attire he wore was empowering, as were Shaka’s comments, giving him the confidence he needed to make a spectacle of himself.

He invitingly rocked his tush from side to side, while he inched forward and dragged his tongue up Shaka’s stallionhood. Familiar flavors washed over his tongue, the zebra’s bouquet filled his sinuses, and the sight of the stud gazing down at him set his heart aflutter. Though he was tempted to skip the foreplay, he reined himself in and brought his lips to the battering ram-like tip of his lover’s cock.

Shaka’s endowment wasn’t like most stallions’ in a number of ways. The gargantuan appendage was simply too heavy to stand up on its own, resting against the stud’s abdomen, which meant he couldn’t simply lift his head to suck on the thing. Propping himself on one foreleg, he pushed himself up and lifted the tremendous limb to his muzzle.

Flexing his groin, Shaka caused his tool to jerk in Mac’s grasp. “Were you a good little mare this morning?”

“Mmmhmm,” Mac replied, closing his lips around the stallion’s cock-head.

Being a good little mare meant preparing himself for any lecherous endeavors. He’d gotten so used to cleaning himself inside and out that the custom had become a habit, doing it every morning and afternoon each and every day, making him ready for action at a moment’s notice. Feeling his pucker quiver, he bobbed his head while peering up at the striped angel before him.

He’d gotten decent at sucking on his sex-toys, wrestling his gag reflex into submission, yet his skills had done nothing but improve since he’d started sleeping with Shaka. Sometimes the stud would be passive, allowing him to choke himself on his cock, although there were other times when the zebra would lay him down and vehemently swab his throat. As long as his stallion was pleased with him, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do.

Seconds dragged into minutes and longer still, until he reared back and cleared his snout. He wasn’t sure how long Shaka was going to last, yet his palate had become coated in thick, viscous pre-cum. Getting his hooves under himself, he stepped over the stallion’s thighs, he went to reach between his hind legs to grab his lover’s length and froze.

Though he was extremely aroused, ready and willing to screw himself on the zebra, his stallionhood hung limp and virtually lifeless. It was true that he was using his endowment less and less to get off, preferring the mind-melting pleasure of anal orgasms over penile stimulation, that didn’t explain why he was soft. Alarmed by the discovery of his flaccid tool, he started when Shaka gave a hearty laugh.

“I’m gonna have to get you a cute little banana hammock to tuck that clit of yours away in,” the titan guffawed, drawing a look of concern and confusion from the pony. “That’s what it is, you know. Mares don’t have stallionhoods ~ do they?” he gently asked. As Mac shook his head, his smile grew wider. “Then what’s not to understand? You’re a mare - my mare, and that adorable little clit of yours proves it.”

Mac should have been genuinely troubled by his impotence, yet the stud’s honeyed words and collected, if not humiliating explanation was enough to abate his anxiety. Lowering his hoof and lifting the giant’s shaft, he lowered his rump and slowly exhaled. No matter how many times he took Shaka’s cock, the intrusion was as intense as it was wondrous.

Kissing his pucker to the fat tip of dick, he eased his weight down and gradually impaled himself. Engorged from regular use, having done nothing but get bigger and more pronounced throughout the past months, was driven in as the immense stallionhood ground into his depths. Pre-cum oozed from his soft length, forced out of him while his prostate was crushed, yet he paid it little heed. Continuing until he’d sheathed every inch that his stud had to offer, he only stopped when he was seated on Shaka’s lap.

He could have ridden Shaka as he was, hunched forward with forelegs braced to either side of the stallion’s chest, but his little exhibition was far from finished. Reclining, he swung his forehooves back and braced them on the zebra’s thick, muscular thighs. Making his lover feel good was only one part of the equation, with the other being to put on a show.

Leaned back with his chest, belly, and loins on full display, he flexed his legs and lifted himself slightly. He constricted his backdoor as he moved, lovingly squeezing his mate’s dick, before he threw his weight back downward. Shaka’s contented sigh and amused expression was his reward, giving him all the inspiration he needed to start rutting himself on the colossus.

A life of hard labor gave him strength enough to spare, allowing him to piston his behind like a machine - still, the blissful sensations accosting him made the ordeal almost herculean. Rolling his head back and moaning to the ceiling, he was unable to contain his glee. Moments like these were what he was coming to live for, relishing the intimacy of being connected with another, and he couldn’t help but be more vocal than normal.

His body did the work for him, moving of its own volition, while his mind grew clouded by raw pleasure. Serving his stallion was as good or better than the physical pleasure he derived from such exchanges, giving him all the more reason not to slack. He was a mare, it was his purpose to be a sexual outlet for real studs, and his one regret was that he hadn’t realized that truth earlier in his life.

On and on he went, riding Shaka like some common whore, until he felt himself nearing his limit. There was only so much he could endure, regardless of how many times he had sex with the giant, and he didn’t want to finish - not yet at least. Altering his technique, he willed his hips to transition from short, quick plunges to slower, deeper motions.

Shaka shifted and pulled a pillow under his head as he intently watched the pony bouncing on him. “Once we’re done, I may have something special for you…”

Without breaking his stride, Mac peaked a brow down at the stud. He was going to have to ask for more of the elixir, that much was for certain, but he wasn’t opposed to receiving something in return for the amorous ambush he’d enacted. The smallest bit of praise lifted his spirits, so anything other than that would surely be a welcome, cherished gift.

Try as he might to hold himself back, not to cum too prematurely, he couldn’t control himself. Shaking like a leaf, he came to a trembling halt and howled out in glee. His stallionhood gushed watery spunk onto the zebra’s stomach, seeping into the black and white bands of his lover’s coat, while he mewled and fought to keep himself upright.

Shaka stirred beneath him, planting his hind hooves on the mattress and grabbing his waist, shaking him from his reverie. “My turn…”

Like the demigod that he was, the titan began fucking him from below. His shrill, marish wail filled the air, while the enormous stallionhood filling him rearranged his insides. It shouldn’t have been possible for him to have another climax so quickly, yet he was beset by ecstasy. It was all he could do to fling himself forward and onto the stud’s chest, his brief time being in control having come to an abrupt end.

His vision tunneled, he came at least another three times, and he staved off the embrace of oblivion, doing his darndest to stay conscious for his mate. The sensation of Shaka flaring within him kept him from blacking out, if only just, but it was a trial not to succumb. Groaning and grunting with each of the stud’s thrusts, barely able to move, he clung to the waking world until his lover hilted and snarled.

Being claimed was a singular experience and he doubted he would ever tire of it. An indescribable heat surged into him, painting his insides and marking him as Shaka’s mare, and it wrought devastation upon him. His limbs went slack, the world tumbled away, and the last thing he remembered before surrendering himself to the abyss were the final words Shaka had uttered to him - ‘I may have something special for you…’

Chapter 5

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“Is everything alright in there?” Shaka called out, lightly tapping on the door.

“E - uh - Eeeyup,” Mac warily replied, glancing to the bathroom’s exit.

Everything wasn’t alright, but he - no, she wasn’t about to say that. Turning her attention back to her reflection, she was overcome with a strange cocktail of anxiety, pride, and just the smallest bit of lust. It had been nearly two months since she’d surprised her big, burly stud with the lingerie she’d gotten from Rarity, and her life, much like her body, had gradually been changing since then.

First and foremost, she’d started dating her lover - well, sort of dating him. She’d visit her coltfriend every single day, sometimes twice if she was lucky, and she’d even stayed at his place a few times over the past couple of weeks. Though they had yet to go out on a bonafide date in Ponyville, given the little town’s size and the residents’ tendency to gossip, her stud, treated her like his dainty, little mare.

Between the way Shaka treated her, the potion she’d continued taking on a daily basis, and having been locked in chastity for weeks on end, she’d increasingly felt like a mare - so much so that she’d starting thinking of herself as a mare. She knew she was still a stallion in the strictest sense of the word, going to great lengths to act as she always had while on the farm and around her family, although that changed behind closed doors. When she was with herself or with her mate, she was like a totally different pony.

She still didn’t speak much, preferring to stay tacit, but her behavior was nothing like it used to be. Instead of being stoic, impassive, and unreadable, she’d taken to blushing or giggling demurely in Shaka’s presence. What had once been her rich, sonorous voice was now so high that she barely recognized it. If it wasn’t for the fact that she rarely if ever spoke, she’d be willing to bet that ponies would be thrown off by how effeminate she sounded.

The icing on the metaphorical cake, for better or worse, was that her brawny physique was fading by the day. She’d slimmed down quite a bit, her muscles withered away seemingly more and more as every night passed, while her hips and flanks had filled out considerably. As if gradually metamorphosing into a svelte pony hadn’t been astonishing enough in and of itself, even her face looked different.

Were it not for the burnished cage affixed to her groin, she could honestly pass for a mare - a somewhat tall, bashful mare, but a mare nevertheless. Her eyes were wide and bright, her lips were full, and there was a delicate femininity to her features - a femininity made all the more prominent by the makeup she’d taken to wearing while she was around Shaka. Turning her head having snapped snapped from her thoughts by the sound of retreating hooffalls from just outside, she gave herself a final once-over.

Aside from the cosmetics she’d painstakingly applied, she’d slipped into a form-fitting cocktail dress, leggings, and heels. While she wasn’t one to brag, she actually thought she looked pretty good - nevertheless, her anxiety was wreaking havoc on her. Wearing something enticing for her stud was one thing, but going out and about in public, where anypony and everypony could see her dressed in such a scandalous way, was another matter entirely.

She sighed, knowing full well that there was no point delaying the inevitable, and turned to the exit. Shaka had repeatedly told her he’d wanted to take her out for a night on the town, a notion which evoked conflicting feelings within her, and ultimately made her a curious offer. Realizing she had many, many reservations about doing anything in public with him in Ponyville, he’d offered to bring her to Fillydelphia for a weekend.

Stepping out of the bathroom and into the hotel suite, she softly cleared her throat. Her attire, leggings, and the pair of golden hoops hanging from her ears had been carefully selected by none other than Shaka, though this was the first time he would have seen her wearing the particular ensemble. She fidgeted anxiously and kept her eyes on the floor, hearing him approach.

“Absolutely breathtaking,” he rumbled, stopping and looming over her. “And your other accessory?”

She nodded, instantly knowing what he was referring to. Though she’d been in chastity for quite some time, the cage locked to her package was, like her outfit, new. Smaller than the last, the little silver prison that constricted her coin purse and restrained her clit could only be unlocked by a key Shaka had taken to wearing around his neck like medallion - not like she minded.

Turning and going to hike a hind leg, to show off her nethers, he reached out and pressed a hoof to her shoulder. “Not now, darling. I’ll wait to see it until I unwrap you like a Hearth’s Warming gift tonight.”

Giggling to herself, she ground her thighs together and peered up at him. Celestia help her, she really was hopeless around him. Everything about him, from his dulcet, rich voice to the way he smelled, was unfathomably arousing to her. Trotting forward and lifting her head, she closed her eyes and tenderly necked him.

“I presume you’re ready to go,” he hummed, stroking her upper back.

“Mmmhmm,” she quietly replied, relishing his warmth.

He stepped back and away from her, turned to face the door, and offered a forehoof as he peeked over his shoulder at her. “In that case, let’s be off. Our reservation is still thirty minutes away, but I simply can’t wait to see how jealous I’ll make other stallions with you by my side.”

With only the slightest bit of hesitation, she moved up to his side and locked forelegs with him. While she was nervous, there was a certain excitement to actually going out looking the way she did. The logical part of her told her that she had nothing to worry about, that the chances of her running across somepony she knew in Fillydelphia, a town she’d never even been to before, were extraordinarily slim, yet that didn’t comfort her nearly as much as being escorted by her coltfriend.

She trotted along beside him, down the hallway from their room, through the lobby of the hotel, and out onto the sidewalk. The cool night air caused her to shiver slightly and reminded her how quickly autumn would be upon them. Thinking about the upcoming harvest at Sweet Apple Acres, she knit her brow and lowered her gaze.

Though neither Granny Smith, Applejack, nor Apple Bloom had confronted him about it, she was absolutely certain that they knew he’d been up to something behind their backs. She looked different, sounded different, used every opportunity she could to run off and see her lover, and she apparently even smelled different - at least that’s what Shaka had told her. Her best best guess was that her family was simply too polite to directly ask her what she’d been doing with herself, although they had, much to her relief, given her her privacy.

“Such a lovely night,” Shaka remarked, drawing her eye up and over at him. As he looked down upon her, the corners of his lips turned up. “And it’s made all the more wondrous with a beauty like you in it.”

Trying and failing to keep herself from giggling, she batted her hoof at him. Just like that, with a simple line of flattery, he’d managed to derail her worry and bring a smile to her face. She drifted closer to him, bringing their bodies together, and rested her cheek against his shoulder. Things would almost assuredly get complicated in the very near future, with many long, grueling days of harvesting, processing, and selling apples nearly on the horizon, but that would be a problem she’d deal with later - for now, she wished for nothing more than to enjoy her evening with her mate.

Without breaking stride or calling attention to himself, Shaka grunted quietly. “Look across the street…” he whispered.

She lifted her head, glanced to the side, and pursed her lips. Several carts and carriages trundled along the road, there quite a few ponies out and about, and the subtle din of the busy city rang in her ears, leaving her to wonder what he was talking about, but then she noticed it. Lingering on the other side of the street, a trio of young stallions peered over at her.

“I bet they wish they were as lucky as me,” Shaka smugly noted, keeping his voice low and his eyes forward. “Don’t be afraid to show yourself off a bit - after all, we both know who that juicy flank of yours belongs to…”

The titan slowed, fell slightly behind her, and drew a forehoof up her hind leg. As her dress was drawn up her thigh, nearly high enough to reveal her backside, she had to fight to keep her tail from flagging. Regardless of where she was, what she was doing, or who was around, being teased by her stud had a way of making her weak in the knees. Glancing back at the zebra, seeing him nod subtly back in the direction of the three stallions she’d spotted, she turned her head and bit back a smile.

Her admirers had gone from passively watching her to actively ogling her - for buck’s sake, one of them stared with his mouth hanging open! As she walked past the three, emboldened and more than a little turned on by the attention, she flicked her tail up to the side and gave them a peek at her backside. She would have been happy to have them keep gawking at her, undressing her with their eyes, but one was bold enough to issue a wolf-whistle.

“See,” Shaka chuckled, straightening her dress and striding back up beside her, “I told you that you looked gorgeous.”

She blushed and kissed his neck in thanks, appreciating his impromptu, admittedly risque bit of encouragement. He’d praised her looks since the moment they’d first spoken, and was quick to reassure her that she was attractive, yet being catcalled by a total stranger stroked her ego like few things ever had. Continuing in silence, simply happy to be with him, she followed him down another three city blocks until they’d reached their destination.

Stopping at the entrance of the restaurant, an extremely fancy establishment named Pomme Dorée, he stopped and opened the door for her. “Mares first…”

Demurely dipping her head at him, she stepped inside and was struck by how opulent the establishment was. She’d gone on the date blind, only having been told that he was going to give her a night she’d never forget, yet she’d been unprepared to find herself in the lap of such luxury. Stopping just within the foyer, she marveled at the well-dressed customers, the bustling staff, and the grandeur in which she stood.

“Reservation for two,” Shaka began, trotting over to a small podium and what she presumed was a waiter. “It should be under Shaka Eze.”

The pony, a mare in a vest and jacket, lifted and inspected a clipboard. “Right this way, Mr. Eze.”

“Please,” Shaka laughed, “call me Shaka. Come along now, Delicious, let’s not keep the fine maître d' waiting.”

Nodding, Mac quickly but smoothly sauntered up to him. As an extra bit of precaution, just in case they did stumble upon somepony who was familiar with the Apple family tree, Shaka had gone so far as to craft an alias for her. When they were in their suite, he’d refer to her as he always had, but she was Delicious Tart when they were within earshot of anypony else. She came to a halt when they were shown their table and allowed him to pull out a chair for her.

Waiting until she’d seated herself, Shaka trotted around and eased himself into his chair across from her. “Quite a nice place.”

She nodded and looked around, drinking in the atmosphere. Compared to the Hayburger in Ponyville and the hoofful of fast-food joints she’d stopped at while on family trips, the restaurant was an absolute palace. Ambient music drifted softly from a number of violinists, she could smell all sorts of exotic, unfamiliar spices, and everypony, including the staff, looked fantastic. While she’d be the first to admit that she was entirely out of her element, she beamed all the same.

“Would you like to…,” Shaka cut himself off, shifting his focus over to a waiter who appeared at their tableside. “Yes, I’ll take a caesar salad, the chef’s quiche, and an apple strudel for dessert.”

The server nodded and scribbled the order down before looking over at Mac. “And for the Missus?”

Put on the spot, she stiffened in her seat. How in the hay was she supposed to know what to order? She didn’t even know restaurants like the one she was sitting in existed, let alone that she’d actually visit one someday! She reached for the menu, praying she’d be able to see something she recognized, and started when Shaka reached out and patted her forehoof.

“Would you like me to order for you?” he inquired.

She quickly nodded, relieved beyond measure that she wouldn’t have to make a spectacle of herself while looking at dishes she’d likely never heard of. Lifting and offering the menu to the server, she smiled over at Shaka. Darned if she knew what he ended up ordering for her, some sort of salad, an entree, and a dessert by the sound of it, but she trusted his judgment implicitly.

“Oh and one more thing,” Shaka stated, catching the waiter before he left. “I’d like a bottle of your finest sparkling cider, if you’d be so kind.”

“Of course,” the server cheerfully affirmed, jotting everything down. “I’ll have your cider and some freshly baked rolls out to you shortly.”

Swinging his attention back over at her, the mohawked goliath reached across the table and pawed at Mac’s foreleg. “Don’t worry, so long as you’re with me, you’re in good hooves.”

“Eeeyup,” she coyly murmured, blushing beneath the chandelier under which they sat.

There were a number of things she loved about Shaka, although one of the best was that he never pressed her for conversation. He could talk with her for hours on end, regaling her with stories of his homeland or his past, without her having to say a word. On the occasions when he did have questions for her, or needed a response of some sort, she could often answer with body language alone.

Gazing into her eyes, he flashed his teeth. “You know, in case you would like something to do tomorrow, there are a number of specialty shops in Fillydelphia that we could visit - shops that cater to certain adult clientele…”

What he hadn’t said spoke volumes, sending blood rushing to her nethers. Her clit feebly twitched within its confines, titillated by the prospect of something naughty, while her pucker winked in excitement. Shifting in her seat, gave a bashful nod.

“Splendid,” he quietly remarked, reclining in his chair. “There are a few things I was hoping to buy for you, since we’re afforded such a rare opportunity, and I’d love for you to help pick them out.”

Her mind went wild, thinking of all the sinful possibilities. He’d done more than just open her eyes to the wonders of what a true stallion could offer, making her feel things that were too incredible to put into words, and his creativity within the bedroom was seemingly limitless. He’d trussed her up like a hog, used blindfolds on her, edged for what felt like hours, and given a number of slatternly garments to wear, pushing the envelope and dragging her into deeper depths of depravity throughout their relationship.

“Would you like that?” he inquired, peaking a brow and prompting her to eagerly nod. “Good, because I’d like to find you a collar, though that begs a question; would you like one with something cute like Princess or something naughty Slut to be emblazoned upon it?”

Gnawing her bottom lip, she locked eyes with him. Imagining herself wearing a collar and being leashed to him was painfully arousing - to the point where she felt a bead of pre-cum escape her cage and creep down her coin purse. While they hadn’t had sex the since they’d arrived in Fillydelphia, having come in on a midnight train, she knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long. It wasn’t a matter of if Shaka bent her over and plowed the cum out of her, but when.

Withdrawing and inspecting his hoof, Shaka pretended to pay her no mind. “I suppose we can wait to see what catches our fancy,” he mused, “but don’t think you’ll be the only one getting anything new to wear. I’ve been considering buying a - no, I really shouldn’t spoil it…”

She subconsciously leaned forward, bringing herself closer to him, and held her breath. In all the time she’d known him, she’d never seen him wear anything whatsoever, so the mention of him buying a garment immediately piqued her interest. Waiting for a reply that didn’t come, she pouted and gave a quiet snort of frustration.

His eyes swept back over to her and settled on her face, before he innocently shrugged. “Would you like me to ruin it or would you rather wait and be surprised?”

Squint at him, she held his gaze. A surprise would almost assuredly be nice, especially any surprise he was going to give her, yet she was dying to know what he intended to purchase for himself. As she forced herself to sit back and straighten up, she cleared her throat and waved for him to continue.

“Fine,” he sighed, rolling his eyes. “If you must know, I’ve been considering getting a harness for myself - not expressly for myself, but because I thought you may enjoy it.”

Images of him strutting around in such a getup, having thick leather straps clinging to his chest and back, flitted through her mind. He was a paragon of masculine strength, being as handsome as he was strong, and there wasn’t a thing she would change about him - that being said, she would love to see what he looked like adorned in something overtly kinky. Reaching down between her thighs, she rubbed at her cage.

Glancing to the table then back to her face, he shook his head and waved a hoof. “Ah ah -” he tutted. “While I’m glad to see you’re excited by the idea, you must behave yourself. Good little mares only touch themselves if they’re given permission ~ correct?”

She tore her eyes off him and nodded, realizing she’d made an error. Though he was loving, generous, and always left her satisfied, he was strict with her. Proper behaviors, like dressing well, speaking softly, and placing his needs above her own, were rewarded, while unbecoming transgressions were met with disdain and small punishments. She didn’t think he’d ever do anything to hurt her, genuinely unsure if he even was capable of getting angry, yet his disappointment in her was enough to make her feel awful.

“Good. Now that we’re - oh!” he chirped as the server reappeared. “Thank you, my good stallion.”

The waiter placed their salads on the table, poured each of them a flute of sparkling cider, then assured them he’d be back shortly to check on them. Mac looked down and inspected what she swore was just a slice carved from a head of lettuce drizzled with some sort of dressing and shaved cheese. Having given the dish a sniff, she lifted her fork and helped her to an experimental nibble.

She couldn’t say exactly what it was she was eating, but the greens were amazing. Forcing herself to eat slowly, she savored each bite of what would be the first course of her meal. Either out of luck or the skilled staff at the restaurant, their entrees were delivered mere minutes after they’d finished with their salads. Both she and her lover relished the food, only pausing to sip their cider or to exchange bites with one another, yet there was a subtle tension in the air between them.

A lick of the lips here, a wink there, the almost imperceptible flaring of nostrils - though they didn’t speak, appearing to do only be enjoying their dinner, there was an exchange between them. The look in Shaka’s cold, unyielding eyes was almost predatory, boring into her like she would be his real dessert that evening, and it thrilled her to no end. Reclining and extending one hind leg beneath the table, she caressed his thigh with her hoof.

Dabbing his mouth with a napkin, only barely having touched his strudel, he grinned over at her. “I think I’ll save the rest of this for later,” he grunted.

He quickly but politely waved down a server, asked for their desserts to be packaged to go, and asked for the bill. As soon as the check arrived and Shaka slipped from his chair, Mac unseated herself. The dinner had been exquisite, easily the most sophisticated she’d ever had, but she’d lost interest in it some time ago. She stuck to the zebra’s side as he paid for their meal, thanked the maître d', and exited back into the night.

Languidly trotting down the sidewalk and in the direction of the shopping district, he glanced over at her. “Now that we’re finished, what would you…”

He trailed off as she stepped in front of him and turned to face him. It had always been hard for her to seize the initiative with him, effectively having had to retrain the way she thought about stallions, although he’d taught her well. Standing tall and reaching up, she wrapped a foreleg around his neck, closed her eyes, and locked lips with him.

It only took him a moment to reciprocate her affection, dropping their bagged desserts to embrace her. His hot breath washed over her face as he drove his thick tongue past her lips and into her muzzle. She shivered in delight, uncaring of the scene they were making, and softly moaned. While she may have surprised him with the kiss, he quickly put her on her back hoof.

Pulling away, he peered down his snout at her. “I see somepony’s feeling a bit feisty…”

It took everything she had not to avert her gaze, but she managed to hold firm and give a little nod. So what if somepony saw them kissing? What did it matter that she was a pony and he was a zebra? As far as she was concerned, she was just a happy, very aroused mare on a date with her hulking, studly coltfriend.

He looked past her, his eyes settling on something behind her, and grunted. “Are you still hungry?”

She opened her mouth to reply, wondering what in the world he was talking about, yet she remained silent when she heard a loud, meaty smack. Her hair stood on end, her heart skipped a beat, and her tail twitched reflexively, knowing full well what had made the sound. Leaning to the side and peeking beneath him, she spotted his semi-rigid stallionhood.

“Follow me,” he instructed, trotting by her and into a nearby alley.

Trotting along after him, she trailed him into a shadowy backstreet. After walking several dozen paces away from the road, he suddenly stopped, reared onto his hind legs, and braced his forehooves against one wall. Though their surroundings were anything but romantic, the sight of his silhouette in the gloom was stunning. Flexing his pelvis and sending blood surging into his swelling length, he stared over at her and smiled broadly.

She knew what was expected of her, yet their surroundings made her hesitate. Though it was especially dark in the alley, there was nothing stopping any passers by from seeing her and Shaka. As she twisted and looked behind herself, hearing two townsponies trotting by, her raging libido grappled with her better judgment.

“Don’t be afraid,” he purred.

Steeling herself, she looked back at him. For buck’s sake, she’d let random zebras rut her ass and her face before, so it shouldn’t matter if a stranger she never saw again got to watch her choking on her coltfriend’s cock! She didn’t even have to duck as she sauntered under him and faced his swaying, titanic endowment.

There wasn’t much room to maneuver in the cramped confines beneath him, but she had enough room to work with. Lifting one forehoof to fondle and lovingly knead his balls, she lolled out her tongue, closed her eyes, and wrapped her lips around the tip of his shaft. Even though he’d showered before they’d left, wishing to look his very best for their date, the taste of his flesh and the scent of his loins made her depths ache with desire.

“Mmmmm,” he hummed above her, lightly bucking his hips and driving his stallionhood to snout.

Pinned with her rump against the wall, she hastily took in a lungful of air and relaxed her throat. There were times when he’d be more forceful than others, fucking her face with what felt like very little restraint, and she could tell that this would be one of those times. Her eyelids fluttered and she willed herself to remain still, as he thrust forward.

The fabric around her collar stretched from the intrusion, digging into her neck, while her throat bulged from the intrusion. She’d gotten used to fellating him, getting practice every time they were together, but she wouldn’t call herself a professional by any means. Though her eyes watered and her esophagus spasmed around him, she pushed herself forward and stared at his crotch.

He rarely if ever chastised her, almost always praising her for her skills, but that was because she avoided giving him a reason to. She knew she could do more than just stand there and be used like a toy, and that was all the motivation she needed to test herself. Inch after girthy inch of his shaft disappeared into her snout and down her gullet. Most mares would have struggled to accommodate somepony as massive as Shaka - then again, she wasn’t like most mares in a number of ways.

Bucking her hips and flagging her tail, she hoped she wasn’t going to stain the inside of her dress with too much pre-cum. Even without touching herself, she was leaking like a faucet, feeling the warmth of her excitement dribbling down her coin purse. Since he’d locked her up, having gone so far as to confiscate her dildos, he’d made sure that the only way she could get off would be if and when he let her.

As she did what she could to please him, gagging and weakly bobbing her head in tune with his plunges, her desires grew stronger and stronger. The teal of her lipstick streaked over his pistoning shaft, sharply contrasting his dark flesh, and she could tell her mascara was running. Regardless of what he ended up doing with her, she’d have to find some way to tidy herself up before leaving the alley.

He grunted and slowed to a halt before rolling his hips back and withdrawing a portion of his length. “Turn around…”

She practically threw herself backward, freeing his cock from her maw and awkwardly turning in place. Though she’d expected him to move, to mount her and plow her like he usually would, he didn’t budge. Twisting her head to peek up at him, she found him smirking down at her. It was in that moment, looking to the ice-blue of his eyes, that she understood what he wanted.

Leaning forward and raising her waist, she lifted her tush until she felt the weight and heat of his stallionhood settle into the cleft of her ass. He knew she wanted it, that her yearning to be claimed had eclipsed her fears about being spotted by anypony who happened to look in their direction, and that somehow made the scandalous situation all the more arousing. Determined to make the clumsy position work, she smiled when she finally managed to bring her eager, sensitive hole to the head of his cock.

Moments before she could buck back and impale herself on him, he chuckled and started fucking her. There was no warm-up up, nor was there a gradual escalation - he simply hilted her in a single lunge, readjusted the way he stood, and began pounding into her. The rutting was so sudden and intense that she had to cover her mouth to keep herself from howling out in bliss.

“I’m - Mmmph - wonder how often whores get fucked like this in Fillydelphia,” he growled.

She tensed hearing his words, stricken by how obscene and electrifying they were. Had anypony noticed them, they’d likely think she was some mare of the night attempting to make a few bits from a particularly large john. More turned on than she cared to admit, she clenched and relaxed her backdoor to milk his shaft.

Situated as she was, resting her face on one foreleg while trying to push back and meet his thrusts, she closed her eyes and fixated on the sinful pleasure he afforded. She’d assumed it would be difficult to get comfortable and she’d been correct, yet her rapture would not be denied. With her prostate ground to dust by his thick medial ring, she inched closer and closer to her limit with his every plunge.

The physical elements of being fucked by him were phenominal, although it was the psychological factors that ultimately did her in. In another time and another life, she very well could very well see how she’d end up selling her body to huge, strong stallions for money. Picturing what she must have looked like, her makeup smeared and her mane a mess, she whimpered and blew her load to the cold ground under her.

Though he didn’t stop screwing her, he shifted his weight, reached down, grabbed one of her hind legs and pulled it into the air. The position he moved her into was vulgar, like something out of a pornographic magazine or peep show, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t love it. His weight on her back, his breath in his ear, and the sublime feeling of being stuffed with his stallionhood were the things she lived for.

She scarcely cared what he was doing, too enwrapt by the ecstasy of her climax to be bothered, but the sound of hushed whispers and a gasp wrenched her from her stupor. Looking over and toward the street, to the source of the noise, she spied two ponies watching from just beyond the alley. While she would have panicked moments prior, being anxious about being spotted, the sanity-shattering pleasure of being rutted by the virile demigod that was her mate stripped her of her common sense.

Comprehending what he was doing, feeling him draw her dress up to her waist, she went to tell him she wanted more but howled in delight when he altered the angle of his thrusts. Barely able to stay standing, with her cage bouncing about on her crotch, she slung ropes of spunk as her orgasm rebounded. He wanted to make a spectacle of her, to show their little audience that he could make her cum on command, and there was nothing she could do to stop him.

“Ah! Ah! Ah! Nnnm! Ah! Mnnn! Aaagh!” she pitiably mewled, her eyes rolling wildly.

Though it was hard for her to see or do anything other than moan, she could tell that one of the ponies watching them was a stallion. She would have thought that anypony who’d unwittingly stumble upon such a depraved scene would run away, not wanting to bear witness to something so lecherous, yet the pair stared at her in open awe. Delirious with pleasure, feeling Shaka drape his head over her shoulder, she turned and hotly made out with her lover.

In spite of being shown off and having her identity as a stallion blown, giving the bystanders an unfettered look at her chaste clit, she didn’t think she’d ever been more excited in her entire life. His passionate kiss, the way he was deep-dicking her, the twinges of pain from his heavy balls beating against her coin purse - everything was simply perfect, drowning out what little shame she felt. She groaned around his tongue and tightened her battered hole around him, thanking him in the only way she could for choosing to be with her over anypony else.

He lasted what could have been a lifetime, plowing every drop of jizz she had out of her until her climaxes were dry, until things came to a head. His hammering hips lost all rhythm, he grunted and trembled, and she could sense him flaring deep inside of her. Though she’d known this moment would come, that he wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d pumped his virile seed into her, she reveled in knowing what was coming.

Giving a final, unstoppable plunge, he fully hilted himself, broke their kiss, and clamped his teeth on her collar. The pain was intoxicating, transcending her bliss and robbing her of her sanity, and it was too much to bear. Her hind leg, the lone limb she’d been standing on, gave out and she crashed to the earth. As she unceremoniously unsheathed herself from his throbbing length, his seething essence painted her back, mane, and one side of her face, leaving her looking like a freshly glazed danish.

He looked down at her with an amused, contented expression for several seconds, until he finally released her leg. “Maybe the slut collar would be more suited for you after all…”

Heaving air into her chest, clinging to consciousness for her life, she gazed up at him. She should have been upset for any number of reasons, not the least of which being he’d intentionally displayed her package, she just wanted to get back to their suite, take a long, hot shower, and crawl into bed beside him. She attempted to stand but failed, falling back into the puddle of their jizz, and whined to herself.

“If it’s that much of a problem, just wipe yourself off with your dress,” he sighed, stepping over her and blocking the view of her from the public. “I’ll wait right here until you’re ready.”

With a monumental exertion of effort, she somehow managed to get her hooves under herself and pulled the garment up and over her head. He didn’t seem all that concerned about how she looked or what ponies would think of her, yet that gave her little comfort. It took her a few minutes to get herself tidied up, finding herself fortunate that her cage wasn’t easily visible even without her attire, and she stumbled over to him as quickly as he could.

Glancing down at her, he slapped the sullied dress from her hoof. “Just leave that nasty thing here; I’ll just buy you a new one tomorrow.”

A smile graced her lips and she leaned against him, using him for as much physical support as emotional stability. No matter what obstacles life may throw at her, she put her faith in his big, loving hooves. He pecked the top of her head and nodded, elevating her joy, as he walked out and onto the sidewalk with her by her side. They’d only been in Fillydelphia for a day, but the trip had already been a once in a lifetime experience…

Chapter 6

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Contentedly humming to herself, Mac trotted into the kitchen and over to the stove. The house smelled of apple pie, her spirits were high, and there was a smile on her face - then again, there was nothing out of the ordinary about any of these things. Ever since she’d bitten the proverbial bullet and moved in with Shaka, confessing her love for him to her family, she’d taken to her life as a homemaker like a fish to water.

Gone were the days of working in the orchard, back-breaking labor, and ending her days exhausted and covered in sweat - well, for the most part. While most of her evenings did result in her being sweaty and tired, it wasn’t from anything she considered a chore. As she stopped and slipped an oven mitt on one hoof, she giggled and shook her head.

Shaka had always treated her well, but he’d practically placed her on a pedestal since she’d started living with him. It wasn’t uncommon for her big, loving stud to surprise her with jewelry, gorgeous outfits, or small tokens of appreciation - and that wasn’t taking into account the constant flattery and affection he lavished her with! For all intents and purposes, the old Big Mac no longer existed.

It hadn’t been a shock to realize that the potions her lover had been giving her had changed her, yet the full extent of her metamorphosis had been nothing short of jaw-dropping. She was no taller than an average mare, she had curves that could kill, and every ounce of masculinity had been stripped away from her. Until she’d met Shaka, she’d been like an ignorant caterpillar, unaware of what she was meant to be, but now she’d blossomed into a beautiful butterfly.

As she reached for the oven’s handle, she stifled a whimper and looked back at herself. As happy as she was with her body, having the ability to turn heads wherever she strutted, it was a bit of a double-edged sword. Nestled together in front of her plump, succulent thighs, her budding bosoms were inadvertently squeezed together.

Having a pair of breasts was a bit of a mixed bag and, like the rest of her, would take some time to fully adjust to. Her teats had started filling out almost a month prior, starting as nothing more than a bit of tenderness on her abdomen, yet in that short time they’d grown considerably. Heavy, soft, and incredibly sensitive, her tits were as fun as they were frustrating at times.

She readjusted her stance, spread her hind legs slightly, and pulled open the stove with a small, triumphant snort. Getting used to her body was an ongoing process. Though her strength, height, and her place in the world as a stallion were gone, the benefits of what she’d gained far outweighed the cost of what she’d lost. Peering into the oven and at the steaming pie that lay within, she drew a breath and was reminded of her home.

If there was one thing that had shocked her more than her eventual looks, it was how her family had taken the news about her lover. Granny, Applejack, and Apple Bloom hadn’t been upset with her, nor had they been shocked by what she’d assumed would be a stunning revelation about her and her romantic interests - no, they’d been elated for her. She should have known that her kin would figure out what was going on with her, that she’d actually been sneaking off to spend time with her coltfriend, yet she’d been dumbfounded when they’d all laughed and admitted to knowing what she’d been up to - heck, they’d even gone so far as to call in the help of a few cousins from Appleloosa to help with the fall harvest to give her some extra free time!

The icing cake about her family was that they hadn’t just accepted her - they’d started helping her. Apple Bloom did what she could to give her tips on how to act marish, Granny smith was teaching her how to cook, and Applejack - well, Applejack had been the one to pull in the extra muscle to keep the farm up and running. She’d always known that she had the best grandmother and sisters on the planet, but even she’d failed to fully realize how incredible they were.

Trotting across the kitchen, she made her way to the nearby window, sat the cobbler down to cool, and looked outside. The air was crisp and clean, she could just make out the sight of Ponyville through the treeline, and there were almost always songbirds singing softly within the Everfree. She’d had a few reservations about moving into the woods, yet her new home had really grown on her.

Lost to her thoughts, she yelped and wheeled around when something caressed her behind. She’d been so caught up with cooking and daydreaming that she must not have heard the front door open, allowing a startlingly sneaky somepony to sneak in on her. As she turned, spying the all too familiar figure of her mate looming over her, her fears evaporated in the blink of an eye.

“There she is,” Shaka murmured, grinning from ear to ear. Looking past her and to the cobbler resting on the sill, he nodded to the pastry. “Busy as ever, I see.”

“Eeeyup,” she proudly chirped.

As his eyes swung from the pastry to her flank, he stepped forward and pressed his chest against her face. “As tasty as that looks, I’d rather have something else for dessert…”

She swooned when he reached out with a foreleg and gave her flank a squeeze. She certainly wasn’t opposed to having a bit of fun before, after, or even during dinner - possibly all three. He could claim her wherever and whenever he wanted, even if that involved doing something risky like sneaking off to a public bathroom or the back of a theater, and he knew it. Lifting her head and kissing her way up his neck, barely able to reach his strong jawline, she breathed hotly on his ear.

His grip on her tush tightened and a small snort escaped him, before he paused and took a step back. “I’d enjoy a succulent little appetizer, but not now. We have company.”

Inching away and giving him a quizzical look, she glanced to the doorway that led to the living room. The only visitors they’d had since she’d moved in were her family and Zecora, so the news that they had guests came as a surprise. Her ears swiveled and she held her breath, suddenly detecting the sound of movement from behind her mate.

“It’s nothing to worry about, just two old friends of mine from Zebrica,” Shaka noted, brushing a lock of mane from her face. “Be a dear and put on something sexy,” he instructed, slowly turning away from her, “and feel free to make it especially enticing. It may be a bit cruel, but I’d like my companions to see how alluring ponies can be…”

Mac nodded, thrown off by his request, and watched as he trotted away and out of view. Shaka had mentioned having friends in Zebrica a number of times, telling her stories about how he’d get into mischief with them when he was younger, so she was elated to finally meet two of them. Removing her oven mitt and tossing it onto the counter, she took the second exit out of the kitchen and quietly rushed off to the bedroom.

While she wasn’t normally one to wear anything provocative around anypony other than her stud, preferring to present herself modestly around others, Shaka’s order had been absolute. As she trotted into her bedchamber and closed the door, her eyes shot over to her wardrobe. She had a number of garments that she’d consider sexy, but therein lay a problem - just how sexy was too sexy.

Opening the standing closet, she scrunched her snout. Donning a bikini wouldn’t be a bad idea, although that would be a bit nonsensical because of the cold weather - a cocktail skirt and a tube top could work, but that felt a bit too formal for a simple introduction. Looking from one article to the next, she was stricken with inspiration. There was one outfit she had that was particularly special, one that always got Shaka worked up, and she was absolutely sure it would make an impression on her Zebrican guests.

Getting into the ensemble was the easy part, having done so on a number of occasions in the past, but that was only the first step in her preparations. Since she was to be an example of how alluring ponies could be, there was no sense in cutting corners. Strolling over to her vanity, she anointed herself with some violet lipstick, a touch of blush, mascara, and a bit of eye shadow before brushing her mane.

Her attire was, in a word, slatternly. Garters, an accompanying belt, halter top, and fishnet, each a vivid amethyst, clung tightly to her frame. Each article was a size too small, digging into her supple flesh, but that was purely by design. She could easily be mistaken for a callmare or possibly an exotic dancer of some sort, the type of mare mothers warned their sons about, and she took no small amount of pride in her appearance.

She steadily turned and inspected herself from different angles, ensuring her attire was fitted and seated properly, then nodded in approval. There was no way to tell exactly who she was about to meet, she was about to give them an eyeful. Grinning and holding her head high, she opened the door to her room and strutted into the hallway.

“I think that’s her now,” Shaka remarked as she made her approach. “Mac, are you…” he fell silent when she sauntered up beside him.

Pressing herself to his side, she rubbed her neck on his shoulder and looked over at their visitors. Two zebra stallions lingered by the entryway, one with a mop of monochromatic dreadlocks covering his face and the other with a short mohawk, and both were a sight to behold. Though they may not have been as tall or muscular as Shaka, both of the studs were well-built and very easy on the eyes.

“Soke, Isalẹ, this is my the light of my life, Mac,” Shaka intoned, stepping aside and waving a hoof at her. “Mac, these are two of my oldest and most trusted friends, Soke,” he continued, nodding to the dreadlocked stallion, “and Isalẹ.”

Remaining where she was, she smiled and demurely waved at the pair. She’d heard of the duo before, recognizing them instantly, but it was an honor to finally put faces with their names. Looking back to her mate for guidance, unsure if he was expecting her to speak, she watched him step over to his recliner.

Shaka eased himself down and smirked over at his companions. “Isn’t she something?”

“She’s hot for a pony, I’ll give her that much,” Soke remarked.

Nodding in agreement, Isalẹ shuffled over and shamelessly eyed her side and flank. “Kind of small though.”

“She may be small, but she’s quite capable of handling herself,” Shaka laughed, leaning back and making himself comfortable. “That outfit she has on is one of my favorites.”

“I can see why,” Isalẹ chuckled.

Shifting in his seat, Shaka leaned forward. “It’s what you can’t see that’s impressive. Mac, sweetheart, give these fine stallions a little show for me.”

She faltered, if only for a fleeting moment, and glanced at his face. Little shows were what he endearingly called her seductive acts, like when she’d strip or try to tempt him with her body, so she had no doubt what he was referring to - still, he’d never once asked her to perform for anypony other than himself. Looking into his steely eyes, seeing his unwavering expression, she shifted her focus back to their guests.

Not wanting to displease her lover, yet reluctant all the same, she held up a hoof and rushed back to her room. Other than giving herself a minute or two to collect herself, she needed something to compliment her outfit - something she’d never worn out of the house. She stopped at her vanity, pulled open a drawer and thrust a hoof inside.

Reaching back, she giggled excitedly. Though she hadn’t confessed it to Shaka, she occasionally thought of all the lecherous things she’d do if she was single and the way she’d woo big, beefy stallions. The chances of her and her lover splitting ways were slim, especially since she served his every whim and did everything she could to make him happy, but there was nothing wrong with having the ability to charm studs.

With her tail wrapped, she spun around and peeked over her shoulder at the mirror. Sure enough, just as she’d planned, her curvaceous backside was put on full display. Shaka had a distinct fondness for her rump, often pinching or squeezing it when they walked past one another, so she was left to assume his friends would appreciate her greatest asset. As she trotted out, swinging her hips and causing her ass to sway from side to side, she fought the urge to hasten her pace.

“Ah - so that’s what you ran off for,” Shaka clucked, immediately noticing her bound tail.

“Eeeyup,” she cooed, strolling by him and shooting him a wink.

Buck it - as long as he was comfortable with her flaunting her stuff, she’d be happy to entertain their guests. She sashayed to the center of the room, gave the pair of zebras her best come hither look, and pursed her lips. While she wasn’t a dancer by any means, she had a few moves that may impress the duo.

As she turned and flipped her tail at her visitors, a thrill ran through her. Neither Isalẹ or Soke could see what lay nestled between her big, soft buns, but she was going to change that. Steadily lowering and touching her chest to the floor, she rested her weight on her shoulders, raised her waist, and swung her forelegs back. She didn’t know what the pair of studs knew about her or if she wasn’t a true she at all, they were going to find out very, very quickly.

She clutched her rump, prized her cheeks apart, and gave the zebras a view of the silken ring that was her pucker. One of the two stallions chuckled, presumably amused by the sight of her well-used, glistening hole, but she wasn’t done yet - shucks, she wasn’t even close. Listing over and softly falling to her side, she splayed her legs for the grand reveal.

“You really weren’t kidding,” Soke muttered, “I honestly thought she was a mare.”

“Oh she is,” Shaka corrected, smiling fondly at her. “Isn’t that right?”

Slipping one forehoof past her bosoms and to her groin, she rubbed her cage and nodded up at her mate. “Mmmhmm…”

There was something undeniably hot about being eyed up by a stallion, any stallion, so having three magnificent studs watching her writhe about and fondle her diminutive package kindled her lust like few things ever had. Rolling her head back and closing her eyes, she moaned as she fondled one teat. She tried to tell herself that she was merely putting on an act, doing what her lover had instructed her to do, yet her exhibitionism quickly got the best of her. Her backdoor seized upon itself, her clit grew moist with pre-cum, and her nipples grew hard, while her growing libido eclipsed what few reservations she had left.

“She tends to the house, is an impressive cook, and is far more docile than any Zebrican mare you’ve ever met,” Shaka boasted. “Frankly, I wouldn’t trade her for anything.”

Isalẹ snorted, prompting her to peek over at him. “But how good is she in bed? Looking and playing the part is fine, but there’s no way she could satisfy a stallion like an actual mare.”

“Not to brag, but she may be the best lay I’ve ever had -” Shaka rumbled, “in fact, I’d wager she’s better at tending to a stallion’s needs than most mares.”

Gazing down at Mac’s loins, Soke knit his brow. “Not that I’d ever question your tastes, Shaka, but I have a hard time believing you.”

Shaka shook his head and sighed. “Think about it for a moment. She knows - well, knew what it was like to be a stallion, so she knows how to please a stud in ways that a mare can’t fully comprehend ~ doesn’t she?”

“Eeeeyup,” she breathed, her cheeks glowing from his praise.

“I’ll just take your word for it,” Isalẹ grumbled.

“If you have any doubt about how wondrous she is, how about you - yes, both of you, find out for yourselves,” Shaka mused. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind proving me right.”

Staring up at her mate in disbelief, Mac found herself at a loss for words. She would never dare sleep with anypony other than Shaka, since he fulfilled all her needs, yet he’d just freely offered her to two of his friends like she was a plaything. Hearing the pair shift, she twisted her head and watched the duo steadily moving toward her.

Drawing his tongue over his lips, Soke was more interested in her goods than her face. “You make a compelling argument, Shaka, though I do hope she lives up to your lofty claims.”

“Indeed,” Isalẹ added, moving to and seating himself on the sofa. “Soke, bring her here.”

Mac rolled over, got her hooves under herself, and stood as the mohawked stallion reclined and made himself comfortable. There wasn’t a day that passed when she didn’t worship Shaka like the god he was, practically idolizing every part of him, so she knew just how to accommodate her guests. While neither Soke or Isalẹ were as attractive or titanic as her mate, she could use their smaller size to her advantage.

Trotting up to Soke, she drew her cheek up his inner thigh and brought her snout to his package; his stallionhood, though a touch smaller than Shaka’s, was still leagues bigger than her cock had been before her gradual transformation. Inhaling sharply through her nose, quivering as the scent of zebra musk tickled her sinuses, she groaned and began lapping at his large, plump balls. Regardless of if she was tending to her lover, it was only proper to start things out with a bit of oral.

She lifted her head and ran her tongue up the underside of his length, coating her palate in the earthy, salty flavor of his unwashed loins. Her heavily-lidded eyes stayed on his face, drinking in his pleased expression while she served him. Satisfying a stallion was an art, being a mixture of raw, sexual skill and theatrics, and she’d devoted herself to it almost fanatically. Reaching the tip of his shaft, she opened her maw, lolled out her tongue, and wrapped her lips around him.

Her ears turned back, listening to the stallion behind her, and she acted accordingly out of instinct. There were two stallions and one of her, although that didn’t mean she couldn’t ensure they both didn’t get some love. With Shaka sitting nearby, intently watching the scene unfold, she arched her back and braced her hind legs for the dreadlocked zebra.

Isalẹ’s taste in mares, be they ones like herself or not, was a complete mystery, but she presented herself for him all the same. If he wanted to feast on her ass or play with her coin purse, he would be more than welcome to - should he want to mount her and plow her on the spot, he could do so. Shaka had spoken highly of her carnal prowess and volunteered her to his friends, so it was duty to gratify the duo.

The sensation of something warm burying itself in the cleft of her ass, followed by the feeling of what could only be a tongue being dragged up her taint and to her hole, caused her to smile around Soke’s dick. She wouldn’t have asked to be rimmed - in fact, she wouldn’t have asked either of her visitors for anything whatsoever, but she was pleasantly surprised to be warmed up in such a fashion. Bucking back against one zebra’s face, while hungrily sucking off the other, she drove her head forward.

“She’s - Mmmmn…” Soke grunted, wincing as he slipped into her throat.

Mac didn’t gag in the slightest, her gullet having long ago become accustomed to taking something significantly larger than what the stallion had to offer, and continued taking inch after inch of cock into her muzzle. He may not have realized it, but she was about to crush any doubts he had about her amorous abilities. Lavishing the underside of his shaft with her tongue, she maintained eye contact until she reached his girthy medial ring, slowed for a fleeting second, then fully hilted him in her snout.

Pulling away and smacking his lips, Isalẹ softly slapped her rear. “Is she always like this?”

“Like what?” Shaka coolly countered. “Perhaps you didn’t understand me earlier. She’s always eager to please, keeps herself ready to be rutted at all times, and she’s not petty or catty in the slightest - honestly, I’m surprised neither of you have considered finding yourselves a cute little femcolt to train for yourselves.”

“I might after this,” Isalẹ snickered, reaching between her thighs and giving her package a small squeeze.

Continuing to bob her head, only periodically pulling back just enough to catch a periodic breath, Mac invitingly wiggled her tush. Being the focal point of three magnificent studs would have been enough to get her hot and bothered in and of itself, but being fawned over was putting a strain on her self-control. Pre-cum drooled from her cage and onto Isalẹ’s hoof, while her depths ached and yearned to be filled.

Mercifully for her, either because he was ready to move things along or he’d sensed how needy she was getting, Isalẹ mounted her and locked his forelegs over her hips. The stud’s weight against her back, paired with the stallionhood filling her throat, proved to be a disastrous combination. If she didn’t get fucked soon, she felt as though she’d go mad with lust.

Once Isalẹ was in position, Isalẹ wasted no time with plunging into her. She shuddered from her hooves to the top of her head, elated with the intimate feeling of fullness she’d grown to love. Relishing the moment, acquainting herself with the subtle differences between her guest’s and Shaka’s endowments, she was gave a choked whimper as a hoof clutched her mane and dragged her head forward.

“She doesn’t mind if we’re a bit rough ~ does she?” Soke asked, forcing her head forward and back.

“Not at all -” Shaka laughed, “if anything, I’d say she prefers being dominated.”

“Buck yeah,” Isalẹ growled.

In an instant, the tables were turned. Mac had started things slowly, testing the waters while doing what she could to excite the pair, but that time had come to an end. Pinned between the pair, with one stallion pounding her ass and the other using her snout like a sex- toy, she sputtered and choked around one dick while a second pistoned into and out of her rear.

It took her a few seconds to gather herself, fighting the compulsion to let them have their way with her, but she ultimately found the strength to reciprocate their vehement affection. Torquing her head from one side to the other, she applied vacuum around Soke’s tool on his backstrokes as she tightly gripped Isalẹ’s length. Dealing with either of the two alone would have been almost laughably easy, barely a challenge compared to her daily affairs, yet their combined might put her at a distinct disadvantage.

Isalẹ rutted her with reckless abandon, practically jackhammering her ass, while Soke bucked into her face. The weight upon her, the masculine scent in the air, and being spit-roasted by two gorgeous studs was amazing, driving her to the limit of what she could endure, yet she only crossed the threshold when she looked over to her mate. Remaining in his chair and languidly stroking himself off, Shaka smiled over at her.

She came in an instant, blowing her pitifully small, watery load to the floor as her body tensed. Being used by two stallions, even if neither was as well-endowed as her mate, was something she’d fantasized about since her visit to Manehattan, yet doing so with the approval of her lover made the experience all the more heavenly. Locking her legs to prevent herself from falling, she clamped her eyes shut and endured the rapturous onslaught.

The duo were utterly merciless, fucking her without a shred of concern for her well-being, and they drove her to another three climaxes before either of them finally slowed. Instinctively sucking Soke’s length as he withdrew, mopping saliva and pre-cum from his shaft, she shivered when Isalẹ dismounted and unsheathed his stallionhood from her. Neither of the studs had cum, despite going at her like a pair of lust-crazed youths, but she quickly found out why.

Looking to the side, she froze when she saw Shaka standing nearby with what looked like a small clay pot balanced in his hoof. Soke and Isalẹ knowingly snickered and moved away from her, leaving their turgid cocks to dangle beneath them, while her lover stepped closer. Worried that she may have done something wrong, that she might have displeased him in some unfathomable way, she silently turned to face her mate and hung her head.

“Hold your head up for me, darling,” Shaka firmly but lovingly stated.

Peeking up at him and seeing his warm, affectionate face, she couldn’t help but smile. Her guests moved to either side of her, Soke on her right and Isalẹ on her left, but she paid either of them any mind. She was Shaka’s mare, she had been for months, and her only regret was that she hadn’t met her titanic lover earlier in her life.

“I asked them to bring this from Zebrica,” Shaka explained, setting the pot down on the floor. Lifting a brush from the little vessel, revealing it was filled with a pitch black paint, he leaned in and pecked her on the nose. “With your blessing, I’d like to claim you as mine. You may not be a zebra in body, but I shall paint you and take you as my mare.”

With her jaw flapping mutely, tears formed in her eyes, and her heart beat wildly in her bosom, she somehow found the resolve to nod up at him. Though she wasn’t familiar with whatever ritual he was about to enact, she was overjoyed that he’d chosen to do something so sacred with her. With glacial speed, he stepped around her and began marking her body with dark stripes.

Starting at her face and moving down her neck, Shaka anointed her with stripes. The process of being painted was a slow one, taking several minutes, but it was surprisingly thorough. By the time he was finished, no part of her was left unanointed. Only once he’d finished and stepped away to appraise her work did she look back at herself.

The dark streaks across her carmine hide were delightfully exotic and she thought they looked quite nice on her. Cocking one hind leg and peeking down at her bust, she tittered when she spotted the designs he’d made on her bosoms and around her nipples. If ever there was a time when she felt like she’d fully committed herself to her mate, it was now.

“Now for the rest,” Shaka continued, seating himself on the floor before laying on his back. “Ride me and prove you’re mine.”

Seeing his pillar-like cock throbbing, untouched since that morning, Mac flung herself upon the stud. For all she cared, Isalẹ and Soke could wait for their turn and watch her consummate her love for Shaka. Practically scrambling over him and straddling him, she smoothly lowered her hips and impaled herself on him.

If there was one thing she didn’t have at that moment, it was restraint. Bouncing on him like a blushing bride on her wedding night, she wantonly fucked herself on him. Strands of drool hung from her chin, her breasts wobbled on her abdomen, and her caged clit and dainty coin purse flopped about uselessly at her groin, as she yielded to her passion.

Though she employed every skill in her lecherous arsenal to get him off, becoming an all but literal dervish, her hedonism came with a cost. The sensation of something prodding her stuffed hole, paired with an ominous chuckle, wasn’t enough to make her look back to see what was going on, but that wasn’t by choice. Coming around to face her, Isalẹ rose to his hind legs, placed his forehooves on her shoulders, pulled her forward, and jammed his cock into her mouth.

Riding Shaka while getting her face fucked was the ultimate test of her skill, yet the feeling of a second stallionhood being forced into her broke her entirely. The orgasm which struck her was apocalyptic, erasing any chance she had of maintaining control. With her vision filled with one zebra’s underbelly, while her mate and his friend double-penetrated her and utterly destroyed her backdoor.

“Hope we - Nnngh - don’t ruin her for you,” one of the stallions snarled.

“Even if you do, I have plans for her,” Shaka groaned.

She came over and over again, with one climax bleeding into another, as she slipped into a rapturous oblivion. Time lost all meaning, the world closed in around her, and her mind went blank, as she was reduced to a toy for the trio - even so, she delighted to be used in such a way by three amazing studs. A sliver of who and what she once was tried to warn her, to tell her that she would reach a point of depravity from which there was no return, but she dismissed it outright. Shaka would give her everything she needed, ensuring she never went without, and she trusted him implicitly - after all, she belonged to him.

As she faded in and out of consciousness, driven up and down and back and forth by the trio, her sense of reality grew distorted. The three may have been using her for seconds or hours - either way, she only came to when a torrent of spunk surged down her throat and into her stomach. Her lover and the other stallion railing her didn’t last much longer than the stud who’d been rutting her muzzle, growling and filling her depths with their combined seed.

Having one zebra pump a load into her was great, being spit-roasted by two was even better, but having three studs almost simultaneously using her like a sperm bank was enough to sunder her on an existential level. She couldn’t move, she could barely breathe, her sense of self was gone - all that was left was the blinding, all-consuming bliss of sinful indulgence. Her family, her friends, the town she’d grown up in - none of them mattered; as long as Shaka continued having a use for her, delivering to the rapturous gates of paradise, she’d willingly surrender everything and everypony she once held dear…

Chapter 7

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While it was fair to say that Mac had gone through a number of twists and turns in his, now her life, the last five months had brought with them the largest and arguably the most peculiar ones to date. Had somepony told her that simply meeting a zebra at the train station one day would lead her down a long, winding road of love, lust, and metamorphosis, she would have laughed in their face - astoundingly, that’s precisely what had ended up happening. Crossing paths with Shaka had set the dominoes in motion, heralding a new era for her, and she was immeasurably grateful for it.

Opening her eyes and stretching her forelegs over her head, she yawned and turned away from the rising sun crept through her window. Her days almost always started early, getting up at the crack of dawn, and this one was no different. As she carefully shifted on the mattress, taking care not to make much noise, she looked over and smiled at the slumbering, colossal zebra beside her. She usually slept in bed with Shaka, keeping him warm and offering him what comfort she could, although she’d spent the night prior with a very special guest.

Over the past few months, shortly after she’d moved in with him, it had become increasingly common for Shaka to invite his family to visit. She’d met his brother, several cousins, his father, and even a few nieces and nephews, though she was often instructed to entertain certain kin of his. Almost without fail, once their visitors had settled in for the night, she would offer her marish services to any stallions sleeping within their home.

She silently slipped from the mattress, keeping her eyes on the snoozing stud all the while, and ponderously drifted into the bathroom to freshen herself up. Dried foal batter matted her fur, her mane was a mess, and what was left of her makeup was smeared upon her face and the stallion’s endowment, yet her disheveled state was a mark of pride. She’d done her duty with glee, serving as a cock-sleeve and companion for the massive, older zebra for the night, and she was happy that she’d have the opportunity to keep him company for the rest of the week.

Trotting into the restroom and quietly closing the door closed behind herself, she turned her head and looked to the mirror. She was an absolute mess, like she’d expected, yet her focus wasn’t on her looks. Peering at her reflection, her eyes wandered down her frame to her gravid, taut belly and the dark, mountainous bosoms hanging from her abdomen.

She’d long since learned that Zebrican potions held unimaginable abilities, having gradually changed her into a svelte, petite femcolt of a mare, though the full breadth of their power rivaled even the most potent alicorn magic. Thoughtlessly reaching back and caressing her abdomen, sensing something shift within herself, she smirked. Shaka’s brothers and sisters all had foals of their own, at least two offspring each, so it came as no surprise that her lover had wished to carry on his lineage - that said, she couldn’t have fathomed that she would be the one to carry his heir.

Though she didn’t understand it, unsure of how the elixir she’d taken had made it possible, she’d discovered she was carrying her lover’s foal months ago. The discovery that she was pregnant was probably the biggest shock of her life, defying reality and what she’d presumed were the laws of nature, yet Shaka had reassured her that everything was fine. Becoming the mother of a little colt or filly would be the ultimate sign of her dedication to her mate, and she looked forward to starting a family of her own.

Having set the water to warm, she stepped into the tub and closed her eyes. She may have been expecting, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have a busy day ahead of her. Once she got prettied up, styling her mane and putting on her makeup, the first order of business would be making breakfast for Shaka and their visitor - after that, she’d more than likely tidy the house. As funny as it was to think about, laying in sharp contrast to her routine on the farm, she loved her life and the loving, domineering stallion who’d won her heart.

As she carefully lathered and washed her mane, musing on if she should make muffins or pancakes for her mate, she was blissfully ignorant to the sound of approaching hooffalls. The feeling of what could only be a huge hoof gliding up her thigh and to her flank wasn’t enough to make her turn, though she did smile because. It seemed like somepony had gotten up and decided to join her for a shower - which suited her just fine.

“I have to say,” a soft, sonorous voice began, “my son has fine taste in mares.”

Turning her head, she peeked back with a single eye. “Mmmhmm…”

She stepped forward and made some room in the basin, allowing the gargantuan zebra enough room to step in behind her. Considering the house had been designed and built with Zebricans in mind, all the furniture and fittings were larger than what would be found in a pony’s home; pair that with the fact that she was a fraction of her former size, having lost most of her height and nearly all of her muscle mass, and there was just enough space to accommodate her and a tall, powerfully built stud in the tub with her. Looking to the stud’s face, she bit her bottom lip.

Of all the zebras who’d come for a visit, there was one she’d been especially looking forward to - Shaka’s father. The instant she laid eyes on the mature stallion, she realized that the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree. Every bit as physically impressive as her lover, and having the same cool resolve, Ode was an absolute stud in every sense of the word - so much so that, were she single, she could see herself making a pass at him.

“Mmmm,” the stallion hummed, casually grabbing her ass and spreading her cheeks. “Looks like I got here just in time…”

Quirking a brow back at him, she brushed her mane away from her face and stared back at him. Like his son, he really was handsome and everything she would have looked for in a mate - furthermore, he was apparently a chieftain of a small village and had a harem of mares at his disposal. Unsure of what he’d meant by being on time, but aroused simply by his presence, she flicked her tail over to give him a better view of her goods.

He slowly, almost reluctantly shifted his focus over to her face and smirked. “Yeah, that pussy of yours looks like it needs something…”

Smack

The sound of his stallionhood slapping against his belly was enough to make her spread her legs and lift her waist, triggering her servile instincts faster than she could think. Ode may have been older, with the black portions of his mane and coat peppered in white, but his age hadn’t dulled his stallionly desires. Realizing he had anything but breakfast on his mind, she pressed her forehooves to the wall and shuffled forward.

“There you go,” he breathed, “show me where you want it…”

Balancing on one foreleg, she reached back and pawed at her ass. Though she’d only wanted to take a shower, she couldn’t say no to getting a bit of early morning action. Shaka had made it clear that she was to see to their guests’ needs, be they in or out of the bedroom, and she was not about to turn down Ode’s advances. With no need for lube, likely having at least a quart of the stud’s jizz coating her interior, she was as ready as ever to give the hulking stud a bit of relief.

Ode rubbed her twitching pucker for a second then lowered his hoof to her coin purse. “You know, when Shaka told me that you used to be a stallion, I was a bit surprised, but I actually find that dainty little package of yours pretty cute; that caged clit and those useless little balls of yours are a reminder of how far you’ve come.”

“E…eeeyup,” she stammered with the breath hitching in her throat.

The chastity locked to her shriveled endowment was almost excruciatingly stifling, though it was different from its predecessors. Not only was the contraption tiny, so small that it practically inverted her clit, but it was permanently affixed to her. The cage she wore was the only one she’d ever need and she’d likely be wearing it for the rest of her days - not like that bothered her in the slightest.

Having gone through a number of chastity devices, each being smaller than the last, Shaka had eventually decided to make an investment on her behalf. It had taken a bit of doing, bringing him to a unicorn who specialized with enchanted artifice, but her mate’s bits had been well spent. Her newest, permanent accessory could shrink on a whim, was self-cleaning, and it ensured her clit would be nothing more than a vestigial ornament for true stallions to play with or admire.

Withdrawing his hoof and bringing it to his lips, Ode liked her pre-cum from his frog. “Do you know the best thing about you?”

She shook her head and kept her eyes on him, genuinely uncertain on where he was going. “Nope.”

“It’s that you can’t lie like a mare can,” he replied. “Real mares can fake an orgasm or tell you they’re turned on when they’re not, but not you. You’re just a needy little thing who lives to be rutted and bred ~ aren’t you?”

Nodding a bit too enthusiastically, she held her and braced her hind legs and readied herself. She really didn’t like to beg, preferring to let her actions speak for her, but she wasn’t above pleading for him to pound her ass and pump a fat load into her. He shifted slightly, lifting and placing one foreleg on her lower back, and shook his head.

As he languidly mounted her, dragging his chest up her back, his stallionhood slid between her thighs. “Once you’ve given me a grandchild, I may need to pay you another visit. Shaka might not be pleased if he were to get a little half-brother or half-sister, but I don’t think you’d mind too much…”

Her heart fluttered and her knees quaked, listening to his sinful promise. Regardless of if he was serious or not, the idea of being knocked up by her lover’s father was profoundly arousing - to the point where she rolled her hips back and rubbed herself against him. Though she’d yet to become a mother, at least two months away from bringing her foal into the world, she could already tell that the next and possibly final step in her journey would be to embrace being a broodmare.

With his battering ram-like cock-head nestled against her hole, he brought his muzzle to her ear. “Or I could play some paternity roulette with my son. Think about it - the two of us fucking you over and over again, from sundown to sunrise, as our seed fights to claim your womb.”

Gushing pre-cum, she nearly climaxed from the thought of having two exquisite stallions battling to impregnate her. She couldn’t put her hoof on exactly when Shaka had put a bun in her oven, but she was looking forward to siring many, many foals in the future. There was something immeasurably empowering about her flowering maternity, from the way she’d gradually put on weight to how her breasts had grown to fulfill their purpose, and she couldn’t wait to go through the process again in the future.

Twisting her neck, she drew her tongue up Ode’s jaw and to his ear. She wanted him - sweet, merciful Celestia, she wanted him, and she was going to do everything in her power to coax him into giving her what she craved. Raising her hips and pushing herself back, she kissed her pucker against his stallionhood and hoped - prayed he wasn’t merely going to tease her.

He chuckled softly, his deep voice practically shaking her bones, and playfully nudged his dick to her entrance. “Maybe I should take you home with me as a concubine. My son may have won you over, but there’s much I could offer you in Zebrica.”

Groaning as he nibbled her ear, she trembled beneath him. Ode was the only guest they’d had that Shaka had expressly warned her about, telling her that he had a way with mares, and she quickly understood why. The mature stallion was like a fine brandy, improving and growing more sophisticated with age. From what she’d been told, though he was a bit of a womanizer, the chieftain treated his mistresses well and was prone to calling on their services while he conducted business.

“Consider it,” he sighed, tensing slightly.

Her eyes rolled and she whimpered when he slowly sank his tremendous shaft into her. Just as girthy as Shaka’s endowment, but maybe a hair shorter in length, Ode’s stallionhood was a gift from heaven itself. Though her mind was in another place, mired within a blissful haze, she bucked back against him. She wasn’t about to throw away everything she had with Shaka, but she saw no harm in indulging in the fantasy of a life she could be living.

With his hooves locked around her ample hips, he unhurriedly plunged into her until the twin cum-tanks that were his balls came to rest against her coin purse. She was well aware of what he was capable of, having weathered an hours-long rutting from him the night before, but he took his time and savored her like a fine wine. Though she belonged to Shaka, she was Ode’s for the time being.

As she began screwing herself on him, milking his cock for all her worth, she quickly realized that he hadn’t budged. She’d realized he may have wanted to start things slow, given that he’d only woken up a few minutes ago, although something was wrong. Shifting her head to look up at him, she discovered him peering down at her with an expectant look on his face.

“Are you that self-indulgent?” he softly asked. “All I did was step into the shower with you, yet you’re screwing yourself on me like a desperate whore.”

She opened her mouth to reply, to say something - anything in her defense, but she couldn’t excuse her actions. He’d been right, she’d been a bit too zealous with him, and she’d apparently struck a nerve. Stepping back and off her, pulling his stallionhood from the fierce grip of her confines, he marched out of the tub.

He only looked back once, just as he approached the exit, and shook his head. “I don’t think a shower will suffice, not when you’re feeling so impertinent. Whenever you’re ready, meet me in the living room to clean me properly…”

His abrupt and frankly jarring departure was the last thing she’d expected, upsetting her and making her feel awful. Shaka may have tolerated her libidinous behavior, often encouraging it, but it was clear that his father would not. Suddenly left to her lonesome, feeling the open air against her gaped, trembling hole, she hung her head in shame.

It was as clear as day that she’d unintentionally upset her guest, so she had to do something to right the wrong - the problem was she wasn’t sure how to make amends. If she’d been dealing with Shaka, in the off chance that she’d rubbed him the wrong way, she would have made him a nice meal and given him a massage, but the tactics she used on her lover wouldn’t necessarily work on the older stallion. Thinking back to what Ode had said before leaving, she honed in on three simple words he’d uttered - ‘clean me properly’.

There was only one thing the stud could have meant, though it felt like a trap. If giving his equipment a tongue bath was all it took to earn his forgiveness, she’d leap at the opportunity - nevertheless, she had to tread lightly. Ode clearly had certain expectations for mares, but she wasn’t exactly sure what those expectations were. If Shaka had been awake, she would have gone to seek his input - regrettably, waking him up to ask something so paltry would probably make her situation worse.

With nopony to rely on but herself, she hastily finished her shower, dried herself off, and constructed a plan. The information she had on Ode was relatively sparse, but he seemed to have a fondness for her jewelry and her makeup - as such, she’d lean heavily on his tastes. She sneaked out of the guest room and to the master bedroom, past the Shaka’s dozing form, and to her vanity.

Acting as quickly and as silently as she could, she made herself ready to confront their visitor. She wasn’t a scholar on Zebrican culture, though she’d gleaned tidbits of information and a few gifts from Shaka and his kin over the months that may help her. Donning a grass skirt she’d been given, she slipped into a golden harness and hung a pair of large, lustrous hoops from her ears before retrieving her crock of ceremonial body paint.

By the time she was finished preparing herself, she looked like some lustful, tribal parody of a zebra. She’d initially thought the aesthetic was silly and potentially a bit offensive, but Shaka and every Zebrican she’d shown it to had been enamored with her done up in such a way - nevertheless, she kept her hooves crossed that it would help smooth things over with her mate’s father. Trotting out and pulling the door closed, hoping to avoid waking the resting stud, she strutted down the hallway and to the living room.

“Took you - oh…” Obe murmured, trailing off when she came into view. She smiled with false confidence at him, as he inspected her from on the sofa, until he unseated himself and trotted over to her. “I’m a bit disappointed that you didn’t join me last night wearing that - nevertheless, I’m pleased you decided to show it to me.”

She kept her eyes off his face, in an attempt to remain humble, and inched closer to him. His stallionhood hung heavily beneath him, glistened in the morning light and still slickened from the cum and lube. Her job, regardless of whether or not it led to him continuing to screw her, was to leave his endowment spotless, and that was her sole priority. Dipping her head and slipping under him, she lapped at the tip of his length.

“Good mare,” he grunted.

Obe’s approval lifted her spirits, breathing life into the smoldering embers of her passion. There was still a chance that she would win him over, to make things right, and that glimmer of hope filled her with determination. Spontaneously rolling onto her back and splaying her hind legs, giving him an unfettered view of her tits, she continued nursing on his cock.

Only able to see his groin and his beautiful package, it was hard for her to tell if her ploy had worked - that was until he shifted and brought a hoof to her abdomen. She whimpered as he twisted and pulled upon the nipple of her right teat, though she continued lapping at his endowment. Having her breasts played, while pleasant, was simply an enjoyable byproduct of doing her duty.

She kept licking the silken flesh of his steely-cored shaft clean until he started to laugh above her. His mirth disrupted her focus and piqued her curiosity, prompting her to slow. So far as she knew, she hadn’t done anything particularly amusing. Looking past his dick and down at herself, she started when she discovered what he found so humorous.

Streams of milk dribbled from her bosoms, seeping into her fur. She’d expected to begin lactating closer to her due date, yet the development threw her for a loop. Momentarily forgetting about her task, she glanced up when Obe turned above her, lowered his head to her abdomen, and rested his stallionhood against her face.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” he nonchalantly remarked, bringing his lips to her teat.

Craning her head upward, she opened her mouth. Her small stature could make fooling around with such a large stallion a bit complicated at times, but she’d learned how to adjust to such circumstances. While she would have liked to experiment with her suddenly productive breasts, she’d have to wait until Obe was finished with her.

The stud thrust forward and drove his length into her awaiting gullet while he wrapped his lips around her tender nipple. Even with all the experience she had with fellating somepony, she gagged around him. Just as exquisitely endowed as his son, the mature stallion’s dick, paired with the profound joy of finding out she was lactating, made getting her throat swabbed a trial.

Sucking him off as best she could, while trying not to make too much noise, she relished the feeling of being nursed upon. Her nipples had always been a weak spot of hers, and they’d only grown more sensitive as her pregnancy had progressed, so having somepony drink from them was almost enough to make her climax - almost. As her eyes drifted closed, she ran her tongue around the stud’s incredible length.

With her neck bulging from every plunge of his cock, she writhed on the floor beneath him. Obe seemed to have forgotten all about her prior transgression, swallowing down mouthful after mouthful of her milk, and his enthusiasm to sate himself had been renewed. Lowering his hips just a touch, allowing himself to slam more of his length into her muzzle, he bit down on her nipple.

As impossible as it should have been, the twinge of pain lacing her pleasure was enough to send her over the edge. Jizz erupted from her cage, pattering over her heaving rack and the stallion’s face and causing him to recoil. Her rapture was ephemeral, lasting no longer than a split second, as she realized she may have inadvertently undone all the progress she’d made at assuaging him.

The moment he hauled his stallionhood from her muzzle, fully prepared to apologize, she lifted her head and watched him guffaw. He wasn’t upset at all, not if his delighted expression was anything to go by, but she still held her breath. As he rose to his full height and stepped back, he waved for her to stand.

“Up,” he snickered. Heaving herself to one side and getting her hooves under herself, she pushed herself up and turned to face him. “That was exactly what I was talking about,” he added, wiping her essence from his cheek, “you couldn’t have faked that. Now then, since you’ve had your fun, be a good mare and bend over for -”

“Bend over for whom, father?” a voice intoned.

Mac swallowed hard and looked toward the hallway, immediately recognizing Shaka’s voice. Logically, she had nothing to worry about, since her lover had expressly told her to take care of his dad, but being caught in the act was still slightly alarming. Glancing from one titan to the other, quite literally caught between them, she anxiously fidgeted in place.

Staring over at the younger stallion, Obe smirked. “Good morning, son. I was just enjoying Mac’s company.”

“I can see that,” Shaka huffed, trotting over to Mac. “I hope you weren’t too hard on her.”

“If I was, she made no mention of it,” Oba snickered, stepping closer to her. “Care to join us?”

Shaka sidled over and around to her flank. “I’d be happy to, but please don’t forget that I’m the stallion of this household.”

“Even when I’m here?” Obe quipped, stepping around to face her.

Peeking back at Shaka, having seen his morning wood from the moment he entered the room, she reflexively swung her tail to the side. Though she’d just cum, she yearned to be bred. Having a stallion plowing her as though she were a field in spring was like a drug, addictive to a fault, and she she couldn’t have cared less which of the two ended up fucking her, so long as she did end up getting fucked.

Standing on his hind legs, Shaka mounted her. “Let’s show him how it’s done, dearest.”

“Hmmmph,” Obe snorted, flexing his groin and slapping his stallionhood to his belly. “Don’t worry, Mac, I’ll be sure to give you a proper rutting once he’s finished.”

Rearing up and shuffling forward, the older stallion placed his forehooves on her shoulders and presented his endowment. Pinned between the duo of godly studs, breathing in their scent, she locked her legs and braced for the inevitable. There may have been some tension between the pair of stallions, a subtle jockeying for dominance, but that wasn’t her concern. In that moment, gradually succumbing to a rut-lust, the only thing she cared about was being filled.

Acting in near perfect tandem, Shaka and Obe sheathed themselves in her. Her supple pucker yielded to her lover’s shaft with no resistance, while her throat embraced the mature stud’s length. This was what she was made for, being a pair of warm, welcoming holes for stallions, and the sensation of their hot, thick cocks within her was beyond gratifying.

Putting her tongue and ass to work, she pleasured the pair like the fanatical devotee she was. She could feel the flow of her milk increasing to a steady spray, pattering to the floor and joining the spunk dangling from her cage, while the father and son gradually increased the speed and force of their thrusts. If the two zebras were having some sort of a competition, each trying to outdo the other, she was loving every second of it.

“I was - Huff - just telling her that I should sire my next foal with her,” Obe grunted, driving his medial ring past her lips.

Undeterred, giving a particularly brutal thrust, Shaka growled. “That’s assuming I don’t put another foal in her belly as soon as she has my son or daughter…”

The mention of being immediately impregnated after giving birth sent her mind reeling. She hadn’t openly confessed how much she’d enjoyed being pregnant with anypony, not even Shaka, but he seemed to be just as eager to knock her up as she was to become a foal-factory. Driven to the very cusp of another climax, she was unable to keep herself from trembling with excitement.

“I think she liked that,” Obe muttered under his breath.

“Of course she did,” Shaka mused, “she wants my foals.”

The elder stallion hilted his shaft in her snout and ground her nose against the fleshy folds of his sheath. “We’ll see about that…”

Obe’s challenge didn’t go unanswered. Beating his hips against the soft pillows of her rear, crushing her p-spot, Shaka flew into a frenzy - a frenzy his father quickly mirrored. What little self-composure she had was erased outright, leading to her choking around one stallionhood while the second fucked the cum out of her. She’d gladly give both Shaka and his dad heirs, provided they could strike an accord - if not, she’d freely give her baby-bakery to whomever was tenacious enough to claim her.

As she endured one orgasm after another, each being more powerful than the last, her eyes rolled to the back of her head. While Obe was considerate enough to let her catch the periodic breath, he was still just as savage as his son. Fantasizing about what her life could be if either of the studs kept their promise, her thoughts grew hazy.

She could practically envision herself in a quaint little home, listening to her progeny scampering about cheerfully, while she prepared a meal for her family. In the grand scheme of things, it didn’t matter all that much where she eventually settled down or which stallion took ownership of her, because she felt certain that either Shaka or Obe would give her what she craved - a stud to worship and an endless supply of foal-batter to keep her gravid.

Feeling what remained of herself, the stallion she had been, slipping away, she relinquished everything she once was. The threshold she crossed, of surrendering herself to her lecherous wants, was cathartic in the extreme. Even if she did lose Shaka or Obe, she’d find a way to serve stallions however she could.

Pride and self-restraint were abstract concepts, things of a bygone era, yet being freed from them was a release. She could do anything she wanted, from whoring her body to eke out a living to settling down with a dominant male as his sex slave, and there was nothing and nopony in the world to stop her. Heedless and hopefully uncaring of her aspirations, the two zebras pounded into her like the absolute beasts they were.

What felt like eons passed, every drop of her impotent seed was forced from her body, and her eyes glazed over, until Obe sheathed himself in her maw and gave a viscous roar. The weight and heat of his cum settling in her stomach overshadowed the burning of her air-starved lungs, making her abdomen distend more than it already was. Shaka followed suit moments later, snarling as he hilted her rear and flooded her with his essence.

It was only when the duo were finished, slick with sweat and heaving air into their chests, did they finally dismount her. She gazed into the distance, leaking thick, virile jizz from her gaped, cavernous ass and slack jaw, and stood statuesque until a striped face trotted into view. Though she knew she was looking at either Shaka or Obe, her lust-addled brain, at that juncture, couldn’t distinguish one from another.

“I think we broke her,” one stallion croaked.

The second, the one standing before her, caressed her cheek and wearily beamed. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. She just needs a bit of time to recover.”

“E…eeeyup,” she rasped, gulping down the remnants of cum in her mouth.

Mindlessly stumbling away to the nearest bathroom, she moved in a drunken stupor. Something had changed, it felt like she was missing some fundamental part of herself, though that wasn’t important. She had two hungry studs to feed, a mess to clean up, and there were chores to do - further still, though it may not be for some time, she was certain that it wouldn’t be long until either Shaka’s or Obe’s stallionly needs would need tending to. Trudging off to the bathroom, she went to wash herself up and make herself presentable. She had everything she could ever want, more than she’d ever dreamed of, and she was happy - truly happy to have found her place in the world…

Digging Deep

by Some Leech

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7