At the Fortress of Swolitude
Peeking through the foliage, shrouded by night, Spike peered through the high window on the side of the building. It wasn’t usually like him to peep in on ponies or anything, but a week ago he’d stumbled upon something that was just too captivating to miss out on. While flying back to Twilight’s castle, after a rousing game of Ogres and Oubliettes, he noticed some movement from inside what he thought had been a closed gym; upon closer inspection, with his curiosity piqued, he’d given himself a closer look.
Within the fitness center, under the dim lights, someone was working out in solitude. It would have been odd enough to find someone lifting weights at such an odd hour, but the peculiarities only started there. Not only was the figure the size of a titan, built like a tank, and buck naked, but he was covered in stripes. Somehow or another, either through luck or serendipity, he’d stumbled upon an absolute colossus of a beefcake.
From that night forward, every evening had been spent the same. He’d sneak out, fly to the gym, and surreptitiously watch the giant lift weights for nearly an hour. Though he swore he wasn’t really into voyeurism, the sight of something so magnificent was simply too good to pass up. As shameful as it was to admit, he’d even gotten off a few times to the sight of the stud pumping iron.
Shifting on his perch, getting a spectacular view of the zebra’s chiseled backside, he subconsciously reached for his groin. Shortly before he’d graduated from the School of Friendship, he’d found himself drawn to particularly large and well-built ponies. Be darned if he could explain why he thought beefcakes were so enchanting, but they seldom failed to get him riled up.
Gazing through the mirror, he noticed his reflection. Compared to the hunks he so adored, he was downright pathetic. Only a hair over five feet tall, and with a relatively effeminate build, he could be mistaken for a flat-chested dragoness - heck, even his endowment wasn’t even remotely impressive. It was hard to describe, imagining himself standing next to a dreamboat like the masculine zebra, but it sent an excited shiver up his spine.
Caught up in his wanton imaginings, wholly losing track of his unwittingly exhibitionistic muscle-head, his diversion cost him dearly. It wasn’t until he looked back at the window, noticing that the striped adonis was no longer present, did he realize something was wrong. Looking around, wondering if the workout session had been cut short, the sound of a clearing throat sent a cold chill up his spine.
“Since you’ve been coming here for at least the last two nights, how about you come out of that tree and join me?” a sonorous voice called, causing the dragon to turn.
At another window, some dozen feet away, the stud beckoned to him. He’d been caught with his metaphorical claw in the cookie jar, there was no doubt about that, and he wasn’t sure what to do. On one hand, he could always fly off and pray the guy never said a word about it - on the other, he could go over and see what the behemoth wanted. Swallowing hard, fluttering down from his arboreal vantage point, he glided over to the stallion.
“Since you seem rather keen on my workouts, come on in,” the hulk intoned. Waving for him to enter, just before disappearing from view, he left the pint-sized reptile to make his decision.
Feeling like he had no other choice, lest the striped stud possibly rat him out to the Princess, Spike flapped up through the window and into the building. With any luck, he could talk his way out of the situation without too much trouble - then again, he had no way to be sure what was going to happen. Landing to the padded floor, with a soft thump, he took stock of his surroundings.
The cavernous chamber, the main room in the structure, was lined with mirrors and festooned with all manner of equipment. Racks of free weights lined one wall, while a number of benches rested opposite. The central area on the floor was clear, allowing patrons plenty of room to maneuver while they lifted. As he scanned the workout area, his eyes ultimately settled upon the towering hunk.
Butt naked, wearing only the striped coat he was born with, the beefcake was even more imposing up close than at a distance. The stud had to be pushing ten feet tall, with his mohawk nearly brushing the ceiling, but that wasn’t the most impressive part - his build was downright godly. From his bulging calves to the striations on his pecs, his physique looked as though it had been carved from marble.
“So,” the prodigious stallion began, shaking Spike from his stupor, “what’s your name?”
“S...Spike,” the dragon sputtered, shakily extending a hand.
“Misuli,” the zebra replied. Stooping down, with a gentleness belying his tremendous size, he wrapped his mit around the reptile’s hand. “So, Spike, what brought you to my little gym?”
“I - Uh -” Spike faltered, feeling as though his mouth was full of sand.
It wasn’t just suddenly hard to speak - he found it nearly impossible to think. His host positively glistened in sweat, exemplifying every detail of his obscene amount of brawn. Glimmering under the fluorescent light, appearing as though he’d stepped out of a wet-dream, the stallion sat at the zenith of masculinity. The buff bod and rich baritone of his voice would have been enough to leave him ensorceled, had it not been for one big, long, midnight black bit of additional anatomy.
Misuli’s package was, in a word, divine. His stallionhood, though flaccid, was as dark as coal, traced with thick veins, and looked to be nearly a foot long. Just below and behind the dangling appendage rested two gargantuan, pendulous nuts. Each succulent, ripe ball was easily large enough to knock up a mare several times over, leaving the relatively diminutive dragon to wonder just how productive his host was.
Leaning forward, grabbing a bar bedecked with multiple plates, Misuli effortlessly hefted the weights onto his shoulders. “Let me guess, you wanted to spot me?”
“Um - sure, I guess,” Spike responded, unsure of what to say.
Besides the bewitching sight, the smell of the place left his mind in a fog. The entire gym reeked of sweat and musk, like the walls themselves had absorbed the heady aroma of multiple hard-working bodies. Still grappling with the sudden turn of events, trying and failing not to get aroused by the goliath before him, he noticed his host lazily turn in place.
Getting a sublime view of Misuli’s backside, he gulped. His eyes wandered down the stallion’s massive shoulders and to the utterly breathtaking pair of sculpted glutes. The word toned didn’t do the heavenly ass justice, so great was its glory. There were statues in museums which failed to capture the downright perfection of such a rump, yet he was seeing something so flawless in the flesh. Frozen in place, unable to move, he initially thought that the tush was growing larger - he thought wrong.
“Now then,” the zebra continued, stepping back and nonchalantly knocking the dragon over, “just get comfortable and make sure I can handle it…”
Suddenly finding himself supine, even more confused than before, Spike could do nothing but gaze at the mountainous bottom above him; it was like something out of a dream, albeit exceptionally more vivid, and his body responded accordingly. His prick struggled against his shorts, growing so hard that it hurt, yet he couldn’t look away from the descending derriere. It wasn’t until the stud settled into a squat, with the chiseled buns just over his face, did he remember to breath.
As he inhaled, the hunk’s virile perfume flooded his sinuses. Without so much as touching himself, he started leaking pre-cum. Throughout the entirety of his life, he’d never known that a smell alone was enough to get him so aroused - that was, until that moment. As if from its own volition, drawn to the ambrosial fragrance, he lifted his head towards the balmy nexus of the intoxicating redolence.
“One...Two...Three…” Misuli counted, rhythmically standing and squatting the immense weight - still, despite the impressive sight, his tiny guest was mesmerized by the backside over him.
The closest thing Spike could equate it to was hypnosis. The beefcake’s bottom lowered to within inches of his snout, before sailing away. It was as mesmerizing as it was torturous, arousing him more and more with each passing second. His arms drifted upward, reaching the god-like rump, allowing his claws the slightest grace of the beautiful behind.
At his touch, the stud slowed and peered over his shoulder. “Having fun down there?”
Vaguely aware of the question, Spike nodded dumbly. Some part of him recognized the mention of fun, but the rest was lost on him. Pushing himself up, on one clawed hand, he extended his arm towards the twin globes of muscular flesh. Drawn to the sublime tush, wanting - no, needing to know how it felt, his sense of reason fled from him; he would never have done something so audacious, under normal circumstances, but the circumstances were far from normal.
“Want a closer look?” Misuli softly inquired, gently swaying his hips.
The pendulous motions of the monstrous cock and balls above him, paired with the prospect of a closer look, shook the little lizard from his reverie. Dragging his eyes off the sumptuous rear, he peered up to his host’s face. His jaw flapped uselessly, his pulse quickened, and his erection tented his trunks; he’d do anything to venerate such a lovely sight - little did he know, his wish would be granted sooner than he thought.
Placing his hands on his hips, smiling arrogantly down at his diminutive visitor, the stallion shrugged off the weight and set it to the side. For the briefest of moments, the little dragon wondered what the adonis was doing, yet he quickly got his answer. As the stud lazily bent his knees and lowered himself towards the smitten reptile, his grin broadened.
Spike would have been happy enough to get a closer view, yet he had no earthly idea what he was in for. Watching the striped behind’s glacial approach, finally able to grace his fingers with the muscular ass, he trembled. The sensation of the sweat slicked hide against his digits was amazing, sending blood surging to his loins.
Like two boulders made flesh, the beefy buns were everything he could have dreamt of. The pair of glutes felt as though they were solid muscle, only slightly giving in his grasp, as he wantonly gave them a squeeze. Besides the astounding texture, the sheer size of the perfect rear was staggering. Each steely bun was nearly as big as his head, leaving him to wonder how such a majestic creature had eluded him for so long.
Entranced as he was, he noticed all too late that his host wasn’t slowing. His muzzle came to within a hair’s breadth of the colossal rump, before his face was pressed against the mountainous mounds of manly meat. As his head was driven back, pressed towards the floor, his mind reeled at the sudden and wholly unforeseen development.
Not only was he touching the zebra’s tush, but his snout was slipping into the dark crevice of the stud’s backside. The humid heat was the first thing to strike him, slathering his cheeks and face in sweat, but that was only a prelude for what was to come. Breathing deeply, filling his lungs with the rich, earthy aroma, he nearly ejaculated on the spot.
It wasn’t until he was driven fully back, with his head effectively buried in the hunk’s ass, did his composure break entirely. Reaching up with both arms, hugging the enormous and burly booty, he blindly ground his face deeper into the cleft. He couldn’t see anything, but that wasn’t a problem; guided by smell and touch alone, he sought the focal point of the dreamboat’s musk.
As his snout pressed against a velvet pucker, nestled within the damp crevasse, his heart skipped a beat. If he was being allowed to worship the towering demigod, he’d fully commit himself. Like some wanton sycophant, his tongue crept past his lips and to the pronounced backdoor of his host; it was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and he was not about to pass it up.
Salty, bitter flavors washed over his taste buds, as he lavished Misuli’s balmy hole. The taste was singular, unlike anything he’d ever experienced before, and it threatened to overwhelm him. It was like sampling heaven itself, but he was very much alive to appreciate it. Writhing in place, downright making out with his gigantic host, the stallion took notice of his efforts.
Though he couldn’t see it, he felt the zebra gyrating atop him. Chuckling to himself, either amused or pleased with the affection, Misuli clenched his rear. The pair of buns tensed, applying pressure to the sides of Spike’s skull. It was unbelievably humbling, to think that he was so much smaller and more feeble than the dreamboat, and it allowed him to savor the moment all the more.
He had no way of knowing it, but Misuli was very pleased with his little fan. He’d known the dragon had been spying on him for a few days, waiting for an opportune time to invite the lad inside for some hands on experience. He couldn’t say how far the little guy was willing to go, but he hoped the tiny reptile was game for some more intense action.
Spike nearly gasped, as the stallion applied a bit more weight on him. His muzzle slipped deeper, nearly forced into the magnificent orifice, as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He couldn’t breath, he couldn’t see, and he could barely hear, yet he wanted more. Forcing his head forward, entombing his snout in the zebra’s pucker, he fully committed himself. The beefcake was his world, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do to please his titanic suitor.
Misuli waited a minute, watching the seconds on the clock tick by, before he eventually relented; regardless of how enthusiastic his petite partner was, the lad could only go so long without air. With a resigned sigh, he steadily rose to his full height, turned, and faced the supine figure beneath him.
Staring blankly up at the ceiling, heaving oxygen into his burning lungs, Spike was at a loss. While he was grateful to be able to breath again, a part of him desperately wanted to have his head buried in the musky ass until he passed out. Gathering his thoughts, spotting the stallion step over and gaze down at him, he shakily lifted a hand.
Without saying a word, Misuli leaned forward, grabbed the dragon’s shoulders, and stood. Bringing his guest to eye level, holding him several feet above the floor, he eyed the little lizard. The corner of his lips turned up, a split second before he broke into laughter.
“Yeah, I’d say you enjoyed yourself a little too much - for Pete’s sake, you’re absolutely covered in sweat,” he remarked, leaning in and giving a quick sniff. “And that smell! Stars above, I’ve had jock straps which don’t have as much of my scent on them!”
Spike smiled weakly, as he dreamily smiled at the hunk. Unparalleled physique aside, the guy really was quite handsome. Truth be told, even if he hadn’t just been subjected to the best face-sitting of his life, he was positively smitten - heck, as far as he was concerned, the comment about used underwear was a compliment.
“Alright, since you’re here, I figured I could give you a few tips,” the zebra intoned, gently easing his visitor back to the floor.
“Tips?” Spike repeated, cocking his head to the side. Frankly speaking, he’d be more than interested to do anything with the adonis - especially if it meant more physical contact.
Misuli nodded, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Since you’re a little on the shrimpy side, and most of the weights here are probably a bit too much for you, how about you try some yoga? Stretching might not give you a body like this,” he grunted, flexing his torso and biceps, “but it could help to get the blood pumping.”
Looking around, unsure of what to expect, the diminutive dragon grinned from ear to ear. He wasn’t all that well read with yoga, but he had glanced over a few articles that Twilight kept around the castle. From his understanding, the exercises were mostly used to keep one limber, and it seemed to be popular with mares. Wheeling around, eager to show off what little he knew, he bent forward and touched his toes.
“Like this?” he chirped, while his tail flipped from side to side.
Peering down at the picturesque rump, Misuli’s eyes widened. His stallionhood throbbed in tune with his heart, swelling and growing in size. Though his guest couldn’t have known it, he’d been through quite a dry spell recently; finding an enthusiastic partner was hard enough, but finding one who wasn’t scared off by his size was nearly impossible. Stepping forward, inspecting the lad’s technique, he shrewdly rubbed his chin.
“Not too bad, but you’re doing it just a bit wrong,” he noted.
The bewitching sight of the behemoth cock set Spike’s mouth watering. The guy’s dick had been impressive before, but it was growing before his very eyes; the darn thing was so large that, even as it grew erect, its weight kept it at a downward angle - for buck’s sake, it was even bigger than his leg. Wholly ignoring whatever his host had said, focusing solely on the mammoth member behind him, he arched his back.
“Is this better?”
Placing his hands on the dragon’s waist, Misuli softly pressed downward. “You need to raise your hips a bit more.”
The stud shuffled closer, directly at his rear, and ground his package against Spike’s backside. He gnawed his lip, sensing the heat of the monstrous dick against his ass, but remained silent. He really couldn’t say what was expected of him, having never done yoga before, but his growing lust gave him a deliciously raunchy idea; if wearing his clothes made stretching more difficult, he could always strip.
“Um,” he began, peeking up at his host, “am I wearing the right stuff for this?” The question seemed innocent enough, though it had an immediate and profound effect.
Misuli’s stallionhood twitched, as he cast his head from side to side. “Honestly, not really, but I don’t have any -”
“I could do it naked!” Spike interrupted, all too eager to enact his hastily laid scheme.
In a blur, he straightened up, hooked his thumbs over the waistband of his shorts, and pantsed himself. There was a time and a place for subtlety, but this wasn’t it. His hunky hero was already nude, and apparently routinely worked out naked, so it only felt right that he reciprocated. Kicking his trunks to the side, while he unceremoniously dragged his shirt up and over his head, he undressed in a flash.
Absolutely bare, with his lithe body on full display, he sensually leaned forward and re-assumed the position; be darned if he knew what the pose was called, but he’d seen a couple of pictures of it in the past. Standing on his tiptoes, he pressed his palms to the floor. There was still no guarantee he’d get any sort of lewd attention from the striped stallion, but he had to at least try and tempt the guy.
Flagging his tail and tauntingly swaying his hips, he peered between his legs at the dangling obsidian tool. “Is this better?”
“Almost,” Misuli hummed. Flexing his pelvis, sending his cock to leaping upward, he pressed his groin to the dragon’s rump. His length settled between his guest’s soft, doughy buns, like an oversized and obscene parody of a hotdog, causing a snicker to escape him. “Just a little more,” he murmured, running his hands up the lad’s back.
Spike could have cum right then and there, had it not been for the possibility of having his brains plowed out. He wasn’t even sure he’d be able to handle something so big, but he couldn’t care less. If he was going to be ruined by anyone, it may as well be the biggest, hottest, strongest guy he’d ever seen.
“It’s so hard,” he cooed, bucking back against the zebra.
The comment could have meant several things, but he was pretty sure that the colossal hunk caught the drift. Hearing his remark, the stud lightly bucked and nearly toppled him over. Standing, drawing his hands up his legs, his fingers ultimately settled on his tush. The dick against his back felt like a light pole, nearly the length of his entire torso, but the thrill of it all overrode any fear. Grabbing his ass, prizing his buns apart, he meekly grinned over his shoulder.
“It feels like you might need a little help yourself,” he anxiously tittered, keenly aware of the pre-cum dribbling from the stallionhood pressed to him.
Grabbing the base of his mammoth shaft, Misuli took one large step back. It didn’t take a genius to tell what the titan was about to do, filling Spike with a mixture of excitement and dread. He silently watched, as the giant, blunted tip of zebra meat moved to his behind. Thankfully, the stud seemed plenty productive; with a single stroke of his mighty length, a deluge of pre-cum coated his rump and rolled down his legs.
“I hope you’re ready,” the Goliath purred, nudging his glans against the lad’s entrance, “because I certainly am.”
Doing his best to stay relaxed, Spike sensed the pressure on his backdoor increase. For all intents and purposes, it felt like a fist being jammed against his ass. Reaching back, wrapping his fingers around the insanely girthy cock, he pulled. He’d come this far and, ready or not, he wasn’t going to be satisfied until he felt the giant inside himself.
Squirming, quietly cursing to himself, he pressed back. The disparity of their sizes made it seem like an impossible task, something only a lunatic would even attempt, yet he wasn’t going to give up. Gritting his teeth, he slowly exhaled and broadened his stance. Just as he was starting to give up hope, something gave.
All the force applied to Misuli’s tool finally caught up with them, sending the first few inches of dick popping into Spike in the blink of an eye. The dragon yelped and shuddered, although the surprise quickly wore off. Despite finding himself accommodating something so gargantuan, easily the largest thing he’d ever had inside himself, the sheer power of the intrusion caused him to cum on the spot.
It was like flipping a switch; one moment, he’d been needily trying to cram the stallionhood inside himself - the next, his prostate was brutally crushed. Under such an unstoppable blow, his body had little choice but to climax. There was some discomfort, sure, but the overwhelming satisfaction of having accomplished his task outshone any pain. Unfortunately for him, his host wasn’t willing to wait for his recovery.
Drawing back, leaving the tip of his length within the lad’s taut confines, Misuli steadied himself. His pleased grunt was all the warning Spike had, before he started thrusting. Moving at a slow, almost methodical pace, each thrust sent him marginally deeper into his pint-sized partner’s bowels. Though he may have looked like a brute, his actions spoke volumes about his experience.
Little by little, bit by bit, the fleshy log forced its way into Spike. The sensation of having something so massive inside him was indescribable. Lowering his head, watching a bulge rhythmically appear and disappear within his abdomen, he openly gawked. How any mare could manage such a herculean ordeal was beyond him, yet there he was, a svelte dragon, acting as a living cock-warmer for the stallion.
Even if he’d wanted to reciprocate the stud’s motions, it would have been impossible. Between their differences in build and power, it was all he could do to keep himself steady and pray that his host was pleased with him. Grabbing the zebra’s wrists, if only to keep himself standing, he openly moaned. To say being rutted by someone so strong and well endowed was an understatement, in spite of the fact that they’d only just begun.
His rigid prick oozed cum to the floor, wetting the mat below, while his insides were rearranged by Misuli’s pistoning shaft. He’d had a number of lovers in the past, but none could ever dream to rival the stud in any way. There was little doubt in his mind that he’d be utterly and completely ruined by the time they were finished, unable to be satisfied by anyone or anything less potent than his gargantuan lover, yet the thought only heightened his arousal.
Seconds passed, leading to minutes, as the zebra’s cock worked its way into the lad’s torso. Stopping just shy of his rib cage, Spike breathed a sigh of relief. If the guy had gone any deeper, there was a chance he’d end up with the monstrous dick in his throat! As the pair of melon sized nuts swung forward, impacting his balls, his pitiful mewling raised an octave.
Peering down at his petite mate, Misuli smirked. The sight of the lad’s jiggling ass and rocking body would be enough to arouse anybody, let alone someone of his bulk, and it fanned the flames of his passion. Overjoyed that the little voyeur had taken most of his length, his pace quickened. If the little guy was willing to be rutted, he may as well get rutted properly.
Spike’s toes curled, the breath hitched in his throat, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head, as the striped beefcake truly started to fuck. Everything until that moment had been a prelude, a mere warmup to the main event, and he was not prepared. The ecstasy he’d felt upon first being penetrated returned with a blinding intensity, threatening to shatter his sanity, while his body struggled to cope with the savage breeding.
His pucker was pulled out with every backstroke, then stuffed back in with every plunge, as he was railed like a flimsy sex toy. The taste of sweat rested on his tongue, the earthy scent of virile musk clung to his sinuses, and the sounds of deep, masculine grunts assailed his ears, robbing him of his strength. Losing his grip, feeling his limbs grow weak, his arms hung limply at his sides. It was all he could do to remain conscious, while faced against such a paragon of beauty and power.
He couldn’t rightly say how long they’d been going at it, or how many orgasms he’d had while being plowed like a field in spring, but things eventually reached a tipping point. Lifting him from the floor, screwing him like a fleshlight, Misuli reached the final stretch. The only reason he knew the stallion was close, aside from the jackhammering he was receiving, was because he could see and feel the hunk starting to flare within him.
“P...please,” he croaked, meeting his host’s eyes, “b...breed me.”
Whether it was from sheer dumb luck, good timing, or some greater cosmic force at play, he was given what he asked for. With one final tectonic plunge, the zebra hilted and bellowed a triumphant roar. The shock of housing a cock bigger than his arm was fleeting, quickly overshadowed by the divine heat and pressure of the stud’s climax.
Every other climax he’d had up to that moment had been child's’ play, compared to the rapture which consumed him. Pleasure was simply a word, something mortals used to describe something which was enjoyable, but it paled in comparison to the abject bliss the stallion delivered. Throughout it all, fighting tooth and nail to stay awake, a stunning realization settled over him; if subjugating and worshiping such a mighty creature meant he could be treated to the lands of nirvana on a regular basis, he would do it gladly.
There was no way for him to know how large Misuli’s load was, but it felt like gallons of spunk surging into him. With his hole corked by the throbbing shaft, and nowhere for the monumental output to go, his gut gurgled and sagged with the tsunami of foal-batter. Held aloft, watching his belly distend and obscure the view of his groin, his vision began to tunnel. It was only when he started to nod off did his lover begin to withdraw.
“Ya did great, Champ,” Misuli grunted, kneeling down and bringing the dragon to the floor.
Though Spike was vaguely aware of touching down, he couldn’t reply. As the hunk set him down, easing his drooling chest to the mat, he blankly stared at the wall. He was surprised that he’d been able to stave off passing out, a fact made all the more valuable by his mate’s praise, but he wasn’t finished - not quite yet.
Slowly, cautiously, the hunk hauled the softening length from his ass. As the immeasurable length was pulled free, momentarily getting caught at the broad tip, he whimpered. He didn’t want to lose the embrace, the abject feeling of fullness and accomplishment the titan provided, yet all good things must come to an end. With an audible Pop, the stallionhood left him, causing a deluge of spunk to gush out of his gaped, abused hole.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m gonna hit the showers,” Misuli huffed. Dusting his hands, leaving the cum drunk lizard to rest, he strutted off towards the restroom. “Feel free to join me.”
Unable to move, barely able to think, Spike’s eyes trained on the muscular backside of his host. It was more than impressive, worthy of a painting, and the sight seared itself into his mind. The use of his limbs would return soon enough, even if he knew he’d be sore for a few days to come, but it had all been worth it - not just because he’d managed to get laid by the biggest, baddest stud around, but because some part of him realized it was only the first time he’d be wrangling with the bulky beefcake.