What fools, Blueblood thought with a smirk. He looked out over the crowd, flashing lights and chorusing, excited voices filling his eyes and ears. What absolute plebeians.

The Canterlot Royal Stadium hadn’t seen use in over twenty years, and as such, the dusty old building had barely been prepared in time for the event that was to follow. Even so, the gaggles of reporters and onlookers that had squeezed their way into the stands around the central ring were enough to make the walls groan with a feeling of over-stuffedness. For some reason, everypony in Canterlot had felt it necessary to come out to see the show that was to come.

Blueblood grinned out at the crowd, and flexed an arm. The cacophony of voices intensified, and his smirk broadened. Truth be told, when he’d raised the old royal right of challenging a governmental motion with a duel by combat, he’d only half-known what he was getting into. All he’d known then, on that stuffy hot day in that half-empty Council chamber, was that that utter dolt Fancy Pants had proposed putting a cap on Blueblood’s Princely party budget, and that such a challenge could not go unanswered. Fancy and his sycophants had been unswayed by Blueblood’s arguments of “economic stimulus and injection” (because really, those whores and caterers really should have been honored that he’d invite them to such prestigious events), and as such, Prince Blueblood XIV had felt it necessary to pull out all of the stops.

That was why he was standing here now, clad in nothing more than a wrestling singlet, flexing a bicep before a loudly cheering crowd. Colored a deep, royal blue, the singlet clung perfectly to his royal person, outlining the curve of his chest, the lovely plumpness of his rear. More than that, though, was the way that it clung to his crotch, lovingly outlining the bulge of his fat, heavy stallionhood. Blueblood may have not been the most muscular of stallions, but he’d always held two gifts as his pride and joy: his height, a crisp six-foot-three; and his package size.

He’d always been miffed when, as a younger, teenage stallion, he’d been made to wear baggy clothing that concealed his impressive endowment. The second he’d stepped into his own as a proper Prince Blueblood, he’d made sure only to wear the finest of clothing—which included those that highlighted the thick bulge at his crotch. Clad only in the wrestling singlet passed onto him by the long-since-retired Royal Wrestling Referee, Blueblood felt borderline obscene in the way the material clung to the plump curves of his heavy ballsack, highlighting the long, snaking bulge of his flaccid, girthy cock. Oh, how he loved it.

“Prince Blueblood!” a voice chirped up beside him. Blueblood turned, frowning, in the direction of the cheerful, female sound. A young-looking unicorn mare stood below the ring, a notepad and quill in hand.

“How do you feel going into this first round?” she asked, flashing him an award-winning smile. Idly, Blueblood noted the way her nice, perky breasts pushed against her top. And that was just a delicious amount of cleavage she was showing off. “Do you think you have a chance?”

“My dear,” he said. “I have more than a chance. My victory is all but certain.” He flexed his other arm, and grinned lazily at the massive, bulging bicep he saw there. “Really, could any stallion beat this lovely specimen?”

The reporter stared for a moment at him—at the limp, flabby “muscle” he was flexing, at the potbelly that strained against his singlet. “Of course,” she said, stifling a snort, and scribbled something down. “But, given your opponent, wouldn’t you say—“

“Yes, yes.” Blueblood planted a kiss on his bicep, and then turned to face the space beside her. “Excuse me—I do believe I have other business to attend to.”

“Ma cher!”

Blueblood grunted as a slender weight hit him in the chest. “Ah,” he said. “Come to see me off, have you?”

The mare who’d attacked him hugged his waist harder. She blinked up at him with big, soft, purple eyes. “You’ll be safe, mon amour? Won’t you?”

“Of course I shall,” Blueblood said. His hand curled around her waist, his fingers straying across her rump. Truth be told, he didn’t entirely remember her name. Dove Wing? Dovetail? Some birdlike thing, he thought. From Prance, too, which meant that she knew all sorts of fun things in bed. And the things she did with her tongue…

His mind strayed for a moment as she grinded her crotch against his. He muffled a grunt, his shaft chubbing up as he continued to fondle her fat, squishy rear. Truth be told, from the waist up, the filly was slender, unappealing. She’d only caught his eye with the sheer size of her ass—and the sensation of those two ripe buttcheeks clamped tightly around his throbbing cock had turned out to be one of life’s greatest pleasures.

He slapped her on the rump; she squealed, pressing herself more tightly against him as her oversized booty bounced and jiggled. “Wait for me,” Blueblood said, running a finger through her cleavage. “Watch me win. And then we’ll celebrate—possibly with a guest.” He turned to wink at the reporter, who’d been standing mere feet away. She snorted, then turned away.

“Oh, oui,” Dove said. Her expression shifted. “But—you will win, yes? You are facing—“

“Yes, yes.” Blueblood snorted. “Of course I’ll win. That Fancy Pants is nothing but hot air. He doesn’t have a real cause to fight for.” Like foreign dancers and seven-layer dip, he added silently. His round stomach grumbled. Goodness; had he really skipped mid-morning tea for this?

“But—“

He shushed her, and stepped away. “Till tonight, darling,” he said, and slapped her on the ass again. Then he hopped over the side of the ring and into the center.

“Fancy Pants,” he snorted to himself, tuning out the roar of the crowd around him. “Too fancy to even show up, I’ll wager.” His grin quirked upward. “Knows better than to answer a challenge from one of his betters. I—”

The ground shook beneath him. Blueblood’s eyes widened, and he froze. What in Equestria…?

Another shake. It sounded almost like a stomp. Blueblood swallowed. Wait. He knew that quake—that familiar step. That huge, hulking weight.

But… He whirled. Hadn’t she been in the crowd? He searched frantically, his gaze darting across the milling, cheering ponies in the stands below. He thought he spotted that purple alicorn, but of his Aunt, there was nothing to be seen.

Another quake. He spun back to face the Challenger’s Door. There was a dark, hulking shadow lurking in the hall behind it...and it was only getting bigger.

The crowd went wild as the familiar face of Princess Celestia came into the light, the bright spotlights flashing white and gold off of her semidivine features. She waved to the audience, a small smile on her face. Blueblood just stared.

For all of his life, he had only seen his Aunt in royal regalia. Dresses, skirts… Only thrice had he seen her in a standard pair of pants, and even then it was only because he’d caught her during her morning jog in her private garden. But today, she wasn’t even wearing that much.

Celestia had always had a bountiful figure. Had she not been his aunt (and his superior), Prince Blueblood would have propositioned her for dinner—and more—years ago. She bore a pair of breasts so full and round that they would have matched small melons for size, had she been a regular mare. They weighed down to the top row of her perfectly sculpted abdomen, her torso flexing and tightening with steel as her oversized bust bounced above it.

Today, she wore not even a top to cover her ample chest—instead, a bra so dinky that it may as well have been a bikini was stretched painfully tight around her breasts. It cut deep into her massive, fist-sized areolae, letting dozens of pounds of soft, squishy titflesh ooze past.

Her thighs were impossibly thick—not only with fat, but with muscle. Legs wide and strong enough to shatter a stallion’s skull with a twitch pulled gracefully through the air, each one alone as wide as a smaller pony’s waist. At her middle, Princess Celestia’s waist flared out into a seemingly impossibly wide pair of hips. “Foalbearing” hips they would have been called on any other mare, but Princess Celestia wore them like a weapon. Behind and beside her, a large, round bubble butt jutted out, perfectly shaped into a pair of twin orbs that alternatively jiggled and flexed with unbridled weight and power.

She had discarded pants, as well—any kind of covering, it seemed, was too much for such a mare. To go with her “bikini” top, Celestia wore a skimpy, tight-fitting thong that slid between her legs and concealed absolutely nothing. Its string cut deep between the cleavage of her huge, heavy asscheeks, and the front only accentuated the fat bulge of her marehood, a cameltoe that was already damp with sweat and other excitement.

On an ordinary mare, those attributes alone would have been impressive. But Princess Celestia was anything but ordinary. Standing at precisely ten feet and eight inches tall, she was by far the largest being in the entirety of Equestria. She towered above the small crowd of ponies escorting her; even the tallest barely came up to her navel. And Blueblood, while tall, was nowhere near the tallest in that room.

She offered him a lazy smile as she swept into the room. Without any effort, she simply stepped over the side of the wrestling ring and placed one, size-thirty foot daintily onto the floor. The other followed soon after, causing the ground to shake beneath her one-tonne weight. His spine frozen in place, Blueblood gazed up at her with shock and awe, as well as a slowly dawning sense of horror.

His mind on autopilot, the only thing that sprung to his lips was: “But where’s Fancy Pants?”

Celestia lifted her arms above her head and stretched. Joints popped and muscles rippled; a bicep wider around than his entire waist bulged with power and definition. It was likely a good thing that she tended to go without sleeves; it was doubtful that any would have survived a life with her without being shredded. She grunted softly, the tips of her lithe, slender hands pushing high up into the air as her chest pushed her enormous breasts further forward.

When she released the stretch, she sighed with satisfaction. A lazy smile twitched across her lips as she looked down at him. “Goodness, Blueblood,” Celestia said. “Hadn’t you heard? He won’t be competing today. Though he shall certainly be watching.”

“How?” Righteous ire flared up in Blueblood’s chest. “Is he craven enough to just hand the victory to me?” A disbelieving fire flickered across his muzzle.

“Not at all.” Celestia rolled her shoulders, and then settled into a relaxed, open stance. “If you’ll remember, dear nephew, it was I who nominated Fancy to the position of Budgetary Chairman. Which means that when you challenged his authority within the Council Room…”

Blueblood’s blood went cold. Celestia smiled at him, her eyes full of the warmth and grace that only the Princess of the Sun could host.

“...he was able to select me to represent him as his Champion.”

“I-impossible!” Blueblood stammered. He took a step back, his mind furiously recalculating. He might have expected Fancy to throw, but this—“I can’t face my own aunt in battle!”

“Why not, Blueblood?” Celestia sounded innocent. She cupped her enormous breasts and gave them a squeeze, letting oodles of titflesh seep through her fingers. “Surely a simple mare like me shouldn’t give a real stallion like you any trouble.” Her smile turned foxish. “After all...you wouldn’t want to see all of Canterlot see you turn tail and run, would you?”

Blueblood’s tail flicked nervously behind him. He gritted his teeth, and clenched his hands into fists. “Certainly not!” he retorted. “I am a Blueblood! I set an example of masculinity for all of Equestria. I shall not retreat.”

“Excellent,” Celestia said. She showed off white teeth in a smile. “Then you’ll accept my challenge?”

“Absolutely!” he said. A moment later, a bell struck, its chime loud and crystal-clear.

“Fight!” said an announcer. The crowd roared. Celestia smirked, and twitched a finger in her own direction. Blueblood had seen the signal often enough in stage-plays to know what it meant.

Ego and righteous fury burned at his breast. Cool, reasonable sanity attempted a counterattack, and then shortly jumped off a cliff. Bellowing with pure, masculine rage, Blueblood snarled and barrelled in Celestia’s direction, his feet thundering upon the soft rubber mat.

In his charge, he’d succeeded in part one of Plan Win-Back-My-Party-Funding. Part three consisted of knocking his aunt to the ground (albeit with profuse apologies), and part four encompassed him enjoying a lovely evening in his hot tub, accompanied by two lovely mares and a pleasantly stuffed party budget. Unfortunately for him, with the sudden absence of his common sense, he’d forgotten to outline part two. As such, when he found himself about to collide with Celestia’s much, much larger body, he realized that he hadn’t really thought about how he’d get her onto the ground in the first place.

He smacked into her leg with a loud, fleshy smack! His chest and belly collided with her bulging upper thigh, and the impact of it nearly sent his ears ringing. Slightly dazed, Blueblood’s mind took the nearest tactile sense it could find and seized upon it. He had something in his arms. That something had to be Celestia. Therefore, all he had to do was push and force her to the mat, and victory would be his.

His arms folded around her massive thigh, his pathetic biceps flexing as they snacked around her perfectly sculpted quadriceps. Blueblood grunted, pushing his feet deeper into the rubber mat as he strained and struggled to upend Celestia’s enormous body from the bottom up. His hands didn’t even reach all of the way around her leg, so huge and powerful was she. As much as he groaned and grunted, he couldn’t budge her an inch.

“My, my.” Blueblood just barely registered Celestia’s voice rumbling above him. The rich timbre of her voice sent her enormous breasts vibrating; as she bent down to regard her tiny assailant, her vast, plump underboob brushed gently against his coiffed mane. “You really are doing your best, aren’t you, Blueblood dear?”

He continued to struggle in vain. Blueblood growled (slightly pathetically), hugging Celestia’s thigh even harder as he shoved his feet more firmly into the mat. Celestia chuckled, then gave her thigh a small flex.

It bulged hugely in Blueblood’s grasp, forcing his arms apart. He stumbled, his arms slipping as he struggled to catch his balance. One hand slid upward across the inside of her thigh, tracing over acres of steely, rippling muscle before reaching the tiny “thong” concealing her bulging, dripping marehood. The other flipped up over her rear, grabbing onto her enormous, plush rump in an effort to stay upright. Blueblood relaxed for a moment, but then gaped when he realized that he had his aunt’s Cutie Mark squishing between his fingers.

Not to mention… His gaze slid across to her crotch, and his eyes bulged. Above him, Celestia inhaled sharply, her eyelids fluttering with pleasure as his fingers were drawn deeper into her puffy, dripping cunny.

“Oh, Blueblood,” Celestia gasped. Her gaze flickered down to him, and a devious smile twitched at her lips. “I had no idea that you were so forward.”

Blueblood gazed up at her in horror. He tried to yank his hand out from her gargantuan pussy and found he couldn’t. He could only pull it out up to his wrist, and then Celestia’s rock-hard groin muscles clenched around his arm, keeping it from moving further outward. She sighed pleasurably, relaxing her core and letting Blueblood’s hand free. He stumbled back, his hand dripping with feminine juices, as Celestia moaned softly above him.

When she’d recovered, she smirked down at him. There was something...powerful in those eyes. Something hungry. She took a step forward, and Blueblood retreated a foot. Then another. And another.

“And with your aunt,” Princess Celestia purred. Something about that low, sultry tone just didn’t fit with the royal, serene mare he’d known all of his life. Blueblood swallowed, for the first time seeing Celestia as more than just the matronly, distant figure he’d always thought of her as. “The Princess! So utterly taboo.”

She was more than just an alicorn. She was a mare. A mare whose body approached eleven feet in height, whose breasts were heavier than young colts, and whose puffy, wet marehood had filled out a thong without even trying.

And he stood absolutely no chance against her.

Blueblood let out a choked “urk!” of surprise when Celestia grabbed him in her big, impressively strong hands. He struggled in vain as she lifted him into the air, his feet coming clean off of the wrestling mat as she handled him as easily as a stallion might handle an unruly foal.

“You made a good effort, Prince Blueblood,” Celestia said. A smirk twitched her muzzle. “But I’m afraid it’s my turn.” She pulled her arms inward.

Blueblood was suffocating. Well, perhaps not suffocating, but breathing was difficult with the huge mass of marshmallow-like substance he’d suddenly found himself drowning in. He kicked, he writhed, he struggled, but all that seemed to do was lodge him even more firmly between his aunt’s massive, all-encompassing breasts. A throaty chuckle from Celestia made her tits vibrate around him, her soft, bountiful titflesh squishing against his comparatively tiny body from every angle.

“Does my little pony like the view?” she asked, her voice sultry and teasing. “Not every colt is as assertive as you, my little Blueblood.” He grunted, trying to shift and twist out of her grip as she squeezed her massive breasts even tighter around him. Against his will, he could feel his stallionhood stirring to life, pressing against the tight latex of the singlet as Celestia’s pillowy breasts tried to squeeze the life out of him. Celestia nuzzled the top of his head, which had poked up between her cleavage as she slid him up and down against her bust. “If it’s a personal touch that you wanted...well, I’m only happy to provide.”

“I didn’t—agh!” Blueblood’s head burst free from Celestia’s bust and he gasped for air. “That was an accident, damn it! I didn’t mean—“

“Didn’t you?” Celestia cooed. She grinded him more firmly against her chest; Blueblood stiffened when he realized that she could almost certainly feel the damp stiffness of his stiffening erection rubbing between her colossal tits. He thrashed to one side, yanking one arm free from her enormous cleavage; an instant later, Celestia caught it in a firm grasp, even while she held his entire body up with one other hand. Blueblood grunted in pain as Celestia forced his arm behind his back, causing the lower half of his body to thrust even further forward against her breasts.

“After all,” Celestia purred, her breath hot and heavy on his forehead. “Never let it be said that a Blueblood didn’t get what he wanted…”

She twitched—and then the air was whistling around him. Blueblood’s vision swam with stars. He let out a heavy grunt as the force of his sudden impact with the mat rang through his spine. He groaned, his body aching as Celestia paraded around his downed form. At his crotch, his engorged erection throbbed incredibly unhelpfully.

The crowd roared. Celestia raised an arm and flexed, her massive bicep alone wider than even the most practiced of bodybuilders. Even from behind, Blueblood had the opportunity to ogle—with or against his will; due to a crick in his neck, he wasn’t even sure if he could look away, not without some discomfort—as Celestia bulged and posed and jiggled, her enormous ass flexing with power and weight some six feet above him.

Blueblood groaned, his mind spinning. This wasn’t fair. He’d expected some ceremonial runabout with Fancy Pants, not a duke-out session with his aunt. He gritted his teeth, his sluggish thoughts stirring to life as his resolve stiffened inside of him. He had to win, though—he had no choice. For the glory of party budgets, and cheap hook—

The start of an announcer’s count startled him into action. Blueblood quickly sat up in place, then winced again at the pain in his left shoulder. Being manhandled by Celestia so easily was certainly an embarrassing wakeup call...but with a glance at his crotch, he wondered quietly whether it had to be such a damn aphrodisiac as well.

“Oh?” Celestia asked. Blueblood looked up at him, and saw her circling around him. An eternal shark’s grin, that of a predator eyeing downed prey, crossed her face. “Still looking for more, dear nephew?”

Blueblood made a motion to get up—but before he could, Celestia abruptly sat down on his legs. Her huge, fat, muscled ass covered almost the entirety of his lower body, stretching from his thighs down to his frantically wiggling toes. Blueblood grunted as he felt his legs being crushed beneath his aunt’s incredible weight, and struggled in vain to try and tug himself free.

His hands thrust upward on impulse; he grunted as she met them with her own. Blueblood gritted his teeth, struggling to push forward, to overturn his aunt onto the mat—but she held him there with a lazy smile, barely exerting herself at all to keep him there. Blueblood could feel his anger warring with the rising hopelessness within him, and grunted loudly, flexing every muscle in his body at once in an effort to overcome his opponent.

When Celestia began to pull her weight back, Blueblood almost thought he’d succeeded. But then he noticed that she was looking down between his legs, a hungry, almost predatory smirk lingering on her muzzle. He followed her gaze, and found himself staring in horror at the huge, throbbing tent stretching his singlet up by a good eleven inches over his crotch. And it was still getting harder.

“My goodness,” Celestia purred. “Aroused, dear Blueblood?”

“No,” Blueblood grunted. He clenched his teeth, and tried to pull his reserve strength back together. “Not—at—all!”

But Celestia ignored his efforts. “Oh, really?” she said. A catlike grin on her face, she reached down with a hand large enough to wrap around nearly the entirety of his length. Blueblood groaned, his eyes fluttering closed involuntarily as a throb of pleasure surged up his spine, his body tensing as Celestia’s thick thumb rubbed across the obscene bulge of his medial ring, the slick dampness of his pre-drenched singlet only made worse by the steady stream of arousal his wide, drooling slit provided.

She gave him another squeeze, this time closer to his balls. Blueblood moaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he bit his lip. With a soft chuckle, Celestia slipped one finger between his thigh and singlet and pulled his stallionhood free.

A long, thick shaft bobbed into view, its girth dark and mottled black, its medial ring girthy enough to have choked many a mistress in the privacy of a Prince’s private quarters. Flushing, Blueblood idly thought that doing so to the Princess might well be impossible—and from the wide-eyed, hungry look she was giving it, he had a sudden feeling that he was about to find out.

“Tell me, Blueblood,” Celestia said. She leaned her weight forward, all thousand-plus pounds of her huge, muscled body pressing down at the base of his crotch. Blueblood whimpered, struggling in vain as his full, cum-stuffed balls brushed against her damp, puffy lips. “Do you like the feel of my hand on your cock?”

“No,” Blueblood lied. He gritted his teeth, and strained to push her off. No use. He gave up with a huff, and groaned as her breasts fell forward against his muzzle. He did his best to grapple with her enormous bust; it took all of his strength to keep those two massive breasts from squashing him beneath their vast, pillowy expanse. And while he was preoccupied with that…

Celestia laughed softly. “Oh, I know you better than that,” she said, running her hand across his torso. “And I know just the way to get you to submit to me.” And she slipped her crotch a bit further over his.

Blueblood’s eyes widened. His teeth clenched together, and he sucked in his breath with a hiss. Celestia’s pussy slipped further over his cock, almost seeming to pull his length inside of it. On the outside, her pussy lips were fat enough to fill out a thong—but on the inside, he could feel the power of her inner walls clenching down around his cock. The warm, velvety slickness of her cunt was indescribable; Blueblood’s eyes watered, his breath coming in short, jagged spurts as he struggled not to cum from the tightness of her pussy alone.

Celestia’s grin widened. “Poor little Blueblood,” she teased, positioning herself over him with her legs pushed out to either side. She straddled him with all the strength of a cowmare, riding his cock as though it were a bull to be tamed. A finger curled along his chest, rubbing sensually at the tufts of fur between his pecs. “Could it be that the big, strong Prince is too weak to push off a mare?”

Blueblood grunted. “I…will win,” he said, clenching his jaw even harder. A spasm of Celestia’s inner muscles around his shaft tore another moan from his lips, though, a burst of pleasure surging up inside of him as Celestia pleasured his shaft with just the tensing of her cunt alone.

“And you plan to...how?” One of Celestia’s long, elegant eyebrows arched up. She smiled like a fox, and bent over until her muzzle was inches away from Blueblood’s. “I assure you, dear nephew. For nine centuries’ time, I was the champion of this ring. I have tamed cocks that would put yours to shame. Stallions that could be broken by no other.” Her inner muscles clamped down around his shaft, and Blueblood let out an “urk” of stifled arousal, his cock lurching violently within her as her velvet-smooth walls massaged his drooling length. Her voice was husky, her breath hot as she said, “You’ll spill your seed like all of the rest.”

The cheering of the crowd filled Blueblood’s ears. He grunted with muffled pain as Celestia tightened her grip on his chest, flexing her fingers into his pecs and pressing him further against the mat. With a speed belying her size and weight, Celestia turned herself a hundred-and-eighty degrees, flipping one long, juicy leg over Blueblood’s head to position herself in a reverse cowgirl position. His cock never even left her pussy for a second; if anything, the sway of her hips, the clenching of her mighty cunt, the slick feminine juices running down his shaft set his balls throbbing with seed all the more.

Blueblood found himself gasping for air, his muscles trembling and tensing as Celestia rode him without even budging her gargantuan ass an inch. The audience around them was certainly enjoying the show—from the corner of his eye, he could make out mares with their hands between their legs, stallions masturbating openly as thick globs of precum stained shirts and hands alike. Catcalls filled the room—not just at Celestia, praising her for her size, her strength, her obvious display of power, but at Blueblood, too. They taunted him, calling him a colt, a filly, a weakling. And through it all, Celestia continued to flex her cunt atop him, grinding her ass further against his crotch as he grunted and struggled beneath her.

With a mighty groan, Celestia stretched her arms up toward the sky, her fingers splaying wide. Blueblood found himself enraptured by the rippling, flexing steel of her back, every muscle bulging with definition as her body contorted itself into a towering pillar of sex and power. He grunted; it felt like his very shaft was being sucked up into her dripping cunt, his entire body being drawn up into her tight, spasming marehood as her amazon form contorted and flexed.

How could he have ever thought he could fight this? This wasn’t just Princess Celestia, ancient monarch of Equestria. This was Celestia the goddess, Celestia the titan, Celestia whose meanest sexual and physical exploits could have ground his greatest into the dust. Her biceps bulged, the muscles rippling beneath her skin and soft, creamy fur; those muscles connected to her shoulders, to her deltoids, to her trapezoids, each angle and joint of her upper torso sculpted into a perfect, immaculate form.

“I think it’s time to end this game.” Blueblood started; Celestia had peered back over her shoulder, a subtle smirk playing across her features. “A good subject of mine will have learned his lesson by now. And if not…”

She squeezed her cunt around his shaft again. Blueblood gasped, his lengthy cock lurching within her. He flexed it, clenched his kegel muscles as hard as he could. He could feel his balls swelling, sloshing, churning with seed as his crotch was crushed further beneath her magnificent ass. He could not cum. He must not cum. He couldn’t give her the satisfaction.

“I won’t,” he wheezed, his body twisting with the force of his denial. “I won’t.”

Celestia’s body twisted, her abdomen angling in a way that only the most skilled gymnasts could achieve. And then her lips were on his, her tongue pushing its way past his lips, curling around his own, filling his mouth with its size, its strength. Blueblood moaned helplessly, too weak to stop the throbbing veins of pleasure filling his body from seizing control from his ego; for an instant, his back arched, every nerve in his body crying out for release, for submission, for resignation in the face of this overwhelming, awesome power.

And then her lips left his, leaving him gasping for breath. Celestia smiled sultrily at him, her eyes half-lidded as she traced her hands down her waist and around her hips. “Your orgasm,” she murmured, giving her Cutie Mark a squeeze, “will be long. Hard. Humiliating.” Her lip curled, and a flash of steely, yet excited arousal flared in her irises. “I take no pleasure in the denigration of my little ponies, but you, my little Blueblood…” She took his chin between her fingers, and clamped down again on his cock inside of her. He drew a sharp, ragged gasp, and Celestia purred in satisfaction. “I think you shall enjoy this lesson very much.”

She took his hands in hers; he screwed his eyes shut, every drop of his attention focused on keeping his hot, churning load from bursting from his swollen nuts. Even so, he couldn’t help but notice just how small his hands felt in hers—like a foal’s, taken up by a scolding, older mare. She moved his palms up, placing them directly on her stomach until he could feel the sculpted curves of her torso.

“Do you feel that?” Celestia growled, her voice husky, throaty, powerful. Blueblood moaned; he felt his cock lurch, his balls dry-heaving, throbbing as their stores of seed grew far too large to be reasonably contained. He needed to cum—he needed to. Every cell, every atom in his body was screaming at him to release, to submit, to let her wash him away in a tidal wave of pleasure. His shaft was actually beginning to hurt, his kegel muscles growing sore from resisting the inevitable.

Celestia continued right on, as if completely ignorant of his internal struggle. She pressed his palms tighter against her stomach, forcing him to feel every inch of her iron, flexing abs. “Any stallion,” she growled, “is mine.”

In that instant, Blueblood saw her as she was: Celestia, the Sun Goddess of Equestria. The mighty, warlike leader who had brought endless ranks of warlords, of dictators, of enemies to heel. The great mare who had rendered every challenge across centuries of opposition infertile; who had ground each one under her heel—or, as she was doing with him right now, beneath her tight, throbbing cunt.

Her abs contracted. Her pussy gave one, final squeeze, surrounding his shaft with an impossible, impenetrable tightness. Blueblood felt his entire form, his entire being, drawn up into the slender curve of his shaft, his very sense of self funnelled into the dripping, lurching tube of his own cock, every nerve in his body feeling squeezed in an almighty vise.

And he came. Crying out, his eyes squeezing shut, Blueblood threw his head back and came.

Moans burst from his muzzle; grunts, groans, and snarls of pleasure tore their way past his lips as his tiny body jerked and writhed beneath her. His cock flared inside of her, his balls pulling in toward his crotch as they pumped incredible amounts of cum up his thick, flaring shaft. He moaned in absolute pleasure, tears beading at the corners of his eyes, as he unleashed a torrent of jizz from his swollen nuts. All around him, he could dully register the gasps and applause of the crowd, a cacophony of shouts and sexual howls as he pumped cum into Celestia’s flexed cunt.

His orgasm hadn’t been finished for even a second before Celestia squeezed his hands even tighter. “We’re not done yet,” she purred, her thumbs tracing out tiny circles on his wrists. Blueblood moaned helplessly, his cock stiffening even further as her pussy worked his shaft like an expert masseuse. She hadn’t even moved an inch, but the efforts of her inner walls had already gotten his balls heavy and churning once more. “So long as I’m here, you can be assured that you’ll keep rising to the challenge.”

Blueblood drew a ragged breath. Above him, Celestia turned to pose for the crowd, striking a most-muscular pose as she tensed her massive asscheeks against his weak little thighs. The crowd roared; Blueblood just gaped, any final tendrils of defiance beginning to evaporate as her biceps and triceps bulged mightily. And her back—oh, that solid wall of muscle was a wonder of the world. He could feel his cock swelling even larger, even stiffer, his balls filling with seed anew as he pondered just how much strength was bound up in those flexing, sculpted shoulders.

Gods above, he realized, feeling his heavy nutsack begin to contract against his thighs. She really was going to make him cum twice. He could feel it already—that building, overwhelming inevitability. The pressure in his shaft was incredible; he could feel it growing, swelling, a dam that was ready to burst. The constant massaging, kneading of her pussy about his cock made the sensation all the worse; he felt impossibly, totally sensitive, his stallionhood feeling absolutely powerless as her inner muscles played with him, teased him, bullying him with their slick tightness, their velvety steel.

Celestia struck a final pose, her entire body bulging, flexing with definition. The crowd roared with approval. Her cunt clamped down on Blueblood’s cock with a final, shuddering finality.

Blueblood’s every muscle flexed and shook as a second orgasm tore its way up his shaft. His balls churned, pushing a new, larger load of spunk up into Celestia’s jizz-drenched cunt. His eyes fluttered, his crotch spasming without control as Celestia’s cunt muscles pushed him around, kneading his cock as they milked him for every drop of his creamy batter.

Barely able to even muster up the power to lift his own hand, Blueblood pulled two fingers together and tapped twice on Celestia’s thigh. Submission. Defeat. She had won.

But evidently, his orgasm didn’t know that. His tap turned into a squeeze, his fist clenching hard around Celestia’s enormous thigh as his jerks and shakes grew more extreme. His whole body twisted and writhed with the force of his second orgasm, his ego, his entire spirit being funnelled up through his lurching shaft in an ocean of cum larger than any he’d ever produced before. He grunted, wheezed, moaned like an animal caught in the bramble of instinct and heat, his entire body bucking with pure, unbridled sensation as he spilled untold amounts of his seed into Celestia’s thirsty, clenching cunny.

And then it was over. With a final gasp, Blueblood fell limp on the mat. Every joule of energy fled his body, his sore muscles releasing their fight at long lost. He moaned softly, soreness and satisfaction filling his veins as Celestia twisted her cunt atop his dripping shaft one last time.

With a grunt of her own, Celestia stood up. Thick strands of cum dripped from her bare pussy, his hot spunk slipping down the insides of her lascivious thighs like cream across butter. Her powerful pussy muscles flexed, spattering his prone form with a few droplets of his own jizz; Blueblood just groaned, barely strong enough to move.

Celestia raised a hand to the audience. The crowd cheered, stomped, applauded, came. Spurts of cum striped the faces of the audience, groans of satisfaction and pleasure filling the air. She clenched her fist; every mare in the audience whimpered with desire, their own marehoods spasming around their fingers as they came in time with their Princess’ signal.

“You might have...won now,” Blueblood grunted. His own defiance surprised him; he could scarcely believe he had the energy to move his jaw. He licked his lips, urging some feeling back into his face. “But...I...won’t forget this.”

Celestia’s laugh was like chiming glass. “You certainly won’t, you cute little colt.”

“I,” he growled, “am a stallion!”

She turned to look at him, her eyebrow elegantly arched. “No,” she said. “You’re not.”

She turned back to face him. Every muscle of her core, her thighs, her shoulders bulged, flexing with definition. Blueblood gasped for breath as she clenched and unclenched her lower muscles repeatedly, droplets of his cum filling the air like mist. He could feel their phantom force clamping down around his shaft like a vivid, overpowering memory. He could smell her musk in his chest, could feel her weight crushing his groin into the dirt—

With a grunt, Blueblood grabbed his cock, squeezing it hard between his hands. No, he told himself, his face contorting as he felt his balls swelling, his shaft lurching as his turgid cockflesh bulged and oozed between his fingers. He couldn’t be—she couldn’t have this much power over him now—

With a power so casual as to border on graceful, Celestia struck a final pose. She let Blueblood get a good, long look at her lower back muscles, her tight, wide ass clenching as her thick cunt flexed with power. Blueblood’s head jerked back; his hands squeezed down; his cock flexed—

No. He wouldn’t cum. He wouldn’t give her this: this final, crowning domination over his very will. He held onto that last thread, clinging to it desperately, fighting with all he had to give. And then…

Celestia smiled down at him. “You’re mine,” she purred, and flexed an arm thicker around than his very chest.

Blueblood’s cock erupted with the force of his third orgasm.

Cum splurted out, thick ropes of jizz that splattered all over his chest and face. Blueblood coughed and gagged, wheezing for breath as he layered his own cheeks and throat with his own weighty load. His balls spasmed, churned, contracted again and again as he painted his face white with his own juices. The audience laughed around him, their taunting voices filling his ears and puncturing his ego completely.

Moaning helplessly, it was all that Blueblood could do to keep just one of his eyes open as his body trembled with the aftershocks of his climax. He could see—just barely, and blurred—Celestia turn back to face him, winking.

“I do believe you had an appointment?” she said, nodding toward a fuzzy white shape standing beside the edge of the ring. “Or perhaps a date. I do hope she can live up to that.”

And with that, she walked over and out of the ring. Blueblood whimpered a final time, the all-encompassing afterglow surrounding him, taking him up in its arms, and cradling him like a child as his abused cock spurted and dribbled the remnants of his load over his crotch and belly. With the audience’s laughter still ringing in his ears, he groaned, unable to turn between shame and satisfaction, and curled up on the mat, covered in his own wet, sticky cum.