What happens when Hoity Toity (who is used to being the only hyper stallion in the room) goes to the Crystal Empire for a fashion show that happens to feature other massively endowed stallions?

Hoity sniffed proudly. His reflection sniffed back, and he took the opportunity to admire the curve of his muzzle, the poof of his coiffed coiffure. He’d starred in many a fashion show and hosted even more, and whether on the stage, in the wings, or in the audience, he’d always been (in his humble opinion), the best-looking stallion in the room.

Another moment to admire his mane, then - oh, and those glasses. Buffed to a shine. But they were far from his most appealing attribute. Hoity Toity smiled secretively, then took three big steps back from the bathroom mirror.

The bulge that bobbed beneath his stomach spoke for itself. He ran a hoof along its length, shivering as it throbbed appreciatively at his touch. His monster of a shaft stretched all the way to the bottom of his chest, flaccid. He grinned as his balls began to churn with seed yet unspent. “Not to worry, darlings,” he murmured. “I’ll empty you later.”

Hoity Toity had always been the largest stallion in the room, and not in terms of muscle or height. No; his package had always been the envy of Equestrian upper society. With a shaft that only a Princess could take, and a pair of nuts each the size of a soccer ball, it hadn’t been hard to rise up in society.

His lips curved up. Hard. Goodness, but he had a weakness for terrible puns. He stroked his monstrous shaft again. Even covered in a thick purple stocking, every contour and curve of his package could be easily felt. He bit his lip as one innocent stroke turned into a throb, which turned into a slight moist spot at the head of the stocking. His hoof fell back to the floor. He’d have to leave off for now. Didn’t want to ruin his outfit before even getting a chance to parade it on the floor.

And so he set off, first out into the hall and then down into the auditorium. The lights were dim, the curtains were drawn, and there was a steady buzz in the audience. Hoity grinned again and set off down the aisle, making sure to sway his hips slightly. With each step, his covered balls smacked against his legs, sloshing audibly with their volumes of cum.

For some reason, though, it wasn’t getting quite the reaction that he’d anticipated. Hoity scowled across the audience of crystal ponies, wondering if there was something wrong with them. Perhaps there wasn’t a soul here who could truly appreciate the male form. Bah! Philistines. He took his seat with a huff and crossed his hooves. His package throbbed quietly on his chest, the stocking covering it only making its size even more apparent.

It was only when the first models stepped out onto the stage that the reason for the crowd’s apathy became apparent. Hoity felt his vague distaste turn into a dawning sense of horror as he eyed the bulge between the first stallion’s legs.

It couldn’t be - it had to be padding, a new line of pants, anything. But try as he might, Hoity soon found it impossible to explain the enormous bulge swaying from side to side as the stallion walked. The stallion’s whole body had been dressed up in a series of fabrics cut into concentric rings, and the cylinder of cloth wrapped around the bulge made it apparent just what it was attempting to conceal.

Hoity stared over the tops of his spectacles as the stallion, face impassive, posed for the audience, his package - for surely that was the only thing that it could be - bulging as big as Hoity’s own. He gaped as the stallion did a small half-turn, lifting his tail so that all of the audience could see the enormous, heavy orbs dangling between his back legs. Hoity could almost smell the musk coming from them, could almost hear the seed sloshing inside their hot, sticky depths -

Hoity ground his teeth and unconsciously hugged his own member to his chest. No. This was a fluke, an exception. It was impossible for there to be another. An anomaly.

And yet, when the first stallion turned to go and a second stallion stepped onto stage, it became impossible to deny.

Hoity watched with bulging eyes as the new model stepped with confidence down the runway. He wore a clean-cut, emerald-green dress, the smooth fabric hugging every curve of his stomach and flanks - and hugging even more snugly the magnificent bulge beneath his belly.

Hoity’s mouth dropped. That thing - that monstrosity - must have weighed halfway down the stallion’s legs! Horizontally! In fact, he’d mistaken it for a simple oversized belly at first, but no. The stallion’s package was simply near as wide as his torso. His muzzle dropped even wider as the stallion turned around, his tail swishing teasingly to show off a pair of frilled underpants that nevertheless made no effort to conceal the twin planets dangling between his legs. For goodness’ sake, it seemed as though they were actually pushing his legs apart!

Hoity glanced around the room and hugged his own package a little more tightly. Suddenly, he felt quite, quite inadequate. And yet…

And yet also found himself harder than he’d ever been in his life. This was masculinity. This was beauty. This was true Art - not of the cloth, but of the body.

He desired nothing less.