Shining Armor sat back in his seat, the swivel chair creaking lightly beneath his weight. His toned rump, huge and sculpted with muscle, filled the chair out nicely, the sides of his rear straining against the flimsy little arms. It was a little uncomfortable sometimes, but mostly, he didn't mind. With one hand laying indolently on his thick, muscled thigh, Shining let his weight slide back, relaxing his shoulder blades against the top of his chair as he settled into place.

His other hand rested on his desk, a quill grasped lazily between his fingers. The soft sounds of scratching ivory echoed off of his work desk as he went line by line, box by box, triplicate signature by triplicate signature. He wistfully thought of the days when he could bribe Twily into doing it for him with a promise of trips to the library. For that matter, sometimes she'd volunteer! The records and reports of the Canterlot Royal Guard were nothing if not thorough, and after his first week assigned to paper duty, Shining had quickly learned just how cramped a stallion's hand could get.

Right on schedule, he felt his wrist twinge with a gentle soreness. With a grunt, he dropped the quill from his fingers, relaxing his grip - only to let his magic pick it up a heartbeat later. Exhaling, Shining slid his tense forearm, already taut from repeated flexion, off onto his thigh, relaxing and wriggling his tender fingers as his magic shimmered around the still-scratching quill. He usually didn't like writing with magic - his usual chicken scrawl was already barely readable, and he'd never been good with points of fine control like some ponies were; big, impressive displays of magic were more the Sparkle family's forte. Still, he'd seen his superiors' sad displays of "penmanship" often enough to know that, however guilty it may have left him feeling, if they were getting away with it, so could he. He soothed his diligence with a reminder that it was his duty to practice fine control, right?

The Bureau of Royal Military Affairs was definitely a long sight different from the barracks. Every recruit found themselves passing through these cubicles sooner or later - "So that you whiny little shits can learn to file a real report," Lieutenant Ironhooves had grumbled, when Shining's bunkmate had asked about it. Private Shining Armor, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, had met his every challenge in boot camp with aplomb. He'd climbed every wall, galloped around every track, lifted every weight.

And yet, he hadn't quite been prepared for the life - however temporary - of a paper pusher.

His thigh flexed beneath his palm, sculpted contours of muscle swelling with unneeded strength. What good would a five-hundred-pound benching record do him when the heaviest thing he needed to lift here was a filebox? Reps were only so good past a certain point! Only somewhat impatiently, Shining found himself tapping his fingers in a rhythm against the hardy fabric of his slacks. Damn it; he needed to be out doing something. Not just sitting still.

With a sigh, he gave his left hand a shake and took the quill in his grip again. His fingers flexed carefully around the flexible shaft, pressed the nib harder against the paper. Not too hard, of course; he didn’t want to snap it. Shifting his broad shoulders over the top of his chair, Shining grunted heavily to himself, then scanned the form for the third time. Every box was filled, every circle checked. He nodded, levitated it up, and moved the next one in place.

The rookies tended to rotate in and out of report duty, so it wasn't as if he had anypony to really share in his misery. The constant dull buzz of duller office gossip didn't help his mood much, either. Relationship tidbits, spats over the coffee machine, pettiness over office supplies - it just left his ears feeling sorer than if his drill sergeant had spent six hours shouting in them. A trio of thin plaster walls shielded him from the sight of his coworkers, at least, but they didn't quite keep out Sweet Pie's constant nattering, or Paper Clip's equally incessant grumbles over form propriety.

As he reached the halfway point of the next form - he was two hours into his shift, and barely a third of the way through the monstrous stack of papers weighing down his desk - Shining shifted his weight in the chair, the flimsy little thing squealing a bit beneath the four-hundred-plus pounds of stallion meat weighing it down. He chewed on the inside of his lip, frowning down at his quill as he tapped it against the inkwell, trying to remember exactly which statute or regulation he needed to write next.

Idly, his other hand moved up the fabric of his pant leg, wide-spread fingers tracing lazily against the contours of his quads. Shining shuddered faintly as he felt his big legs flex, his muscles easily filling the width of his palm. A few more inches higher, he began to feel the soft, warm pressure of his crotch, his groin-filling bulge pressing lightly against the tips of his fingers, the resultant sensations pressing not-so-lightly back against his bored mind.

Shining stifled a soft groan. Physically active or not, he couldn't deny that paper-pushing had wound up taking just as much out of him - if not more - than P.T.. A good three weeks trapped in his dinky little cubicle had left him with a simmering lake of frustration...not to mention a hefty amount of literal pent-up pressure.

His nostrils flared, his eyelids fluttering slightly as his fingers moved to reach around the divotted bulge his twin seed-stuffed orbs made at his crotch. He could try, he knew, but never quite succeed - his juicy nuts, usually the size of grapefruits, had swollen up nearly twice the size of cantaloupes in his time at the office. Big and hefty, their weight was supple and warm beneath his palms, their thick, heady heat welcoming as his fingers pinched and rolled along his overstuffed slacks.

Shining's ears twitched; at the desk beside him, he heard Sweet Pie's voice peak for a brief moment. Shrill, nitpicky - but well-rounded, was Sweet Pie. The mare may have been a harpy in disguise, but she had a figure like an hourglass and a rump that a colt could bounce a bit off of. Shining's cheeks flushed faintly, a note of embarrassment filling his chest as he remembered staring just a bit too long as she'd bent over at the Bureau's only water cooler….or, he also remembered, blushing slightly, the reaction in his pants complaining it wasn't long enough.

It wasn't his fault that the mare wore only yoga pants! Or that his stallionhood, which already left most other recruits in the barracks in the dust, was all-too-happy to prod him into enjoying some of the finer sights of life. As his fingers moved up over the hefty orbs of his testes, tips pressing against the soft, stretched cotton of his pants, Shining exhaled slowly, feeling his crotch throb and tighten as he pictured Sweet Pie's perfect, shapely ass, bobbing and shifting in his mind's eye.

He felt an urgent stirring at his crotch, and swallowed. As heavy as his poor balls felt - and they did feel heavy, almost painfully so - he had work to do. Biting his lip, he tried to push the image of Sweet Pie's fat, perfectly-rounded rump, cheeks sitting atop lovely, plush thighs, from his thoughts, and leaned forward to focus on his work.

All the same, it was difficult for Shining's unprincipled biology to ignore the principle of inertia. As he continued to rub the rising hill at his crotch, the obscene weight between his legs slowly increased, his thighs spreading apart as a long, thick bulge began to push up against the fabric. His crotch pulsed with heat as his proud shaft emerged from its sheath, its girthy length leaving his pants tighter by the second.

With a soft breath, Shining wiped off his forehead of sweat and moved to the next form. It was the peak of summer in Canterlot, and while the Bureau might have had a few cooling spells placed on the higher-ups' offices, the grunts had few such luxuries. At this point, he really hoped the haziness of the letters was a sign of exhaustion, and not heat stroke. He signed off his name at the bottom of the form - in triplicate, of course - and stamped it with the Bureau's official seal. Off it went, floating up to the top of his outbox while his magic already summoned up the next piece on the docket.

Of course, his subconscious teased him, Sweet Pie was hardly priority number one. There was another mare his prick would have preferred, his balls churning all the heavier at the phantom thought of her hot breath.

Shining’s nostrils flared. He swallowed. She might have been away with family in Fillydelphia...but even in daydreams, Princess Cadance’s warm, smiling face shone down on his broad shoulders, her slender fingers slipping around his as his scribbling faltered.

Once his little sister’s foalsitter, now…something more. Shining’s muzzle twitched, the corners of his mouth pushing up into a goofy little grin as he remembered the unbearably delicious feel of Cadance’s slender body against his, her curvaceous frame slotting perfectly into the crevices of his meaty musculature. Tall for a mare, the six-foot Cadance was still a near-dwarf beside his own seven-foot frame, but she was anything but delicate. He could picture her face perfectly, her mane framing her face into a heart shape, her prodigiously plump rear wriggling eagerly against his thigh as she stroked his broad chest, cooing softly…

His goofy grin twitched, and he blushed happily at the memory. Not quite marefriend and coltfriend - yet, he thought, rolling his big shoulders contemplatively. After P.T. But he’d blown through boot camp, carried loads that most other stallion’s couldn’t dream of lifting, his well-endowed, well-sculpted body doing all of the work for him. And now he’d found himself here, crammed and packed into a cubicle four sizes too small.

Shining sighed. Still… Whatever they were - even if the future held more promises than the present, he couldn’t keep from summoning up images of Cadance’s perky well-padded butt, her well-rounded flanks filling out her jeans perfectly. Her succulent breasts suddenly filled his mental vision, a pair of pert, kneadable melons just begging to be taken hold of and squeezed...

By now, the insistent mass of Shining's sizable cock had stiffened enough that it had begun to push up through the waistband of his pants. Already as thick around as his wrist, and long enough to leave most any mare (not to mention a sizeable selection of stallions) happy, it throbbed joyously as it strained the metal of his belt and waistline almost to a breaking point. He grunted, closed his eyes, flexed - and the top button of his pants burst open, his belt about ready to unbuckle itself to make room for his fat, hardened shaft.

His off hand continued its well-practiced work on his lightly sloshing balls, rubbing small circles into the clothed surface of his testes while his ever-eager member continued to push its way up his belly. Shining whinnied softly, the zipper of his fly finding itself forced slowly down as his fist-thick flare rubbed almost tantalizingly against the underside of his pecs, his well-muscled chest bouncing a bit as a few beads of pre smeared against his fur.

Almost without thinking about it, Shining's off hand moved up to his waist, his knuckles curling inward to knead gently against the side of his shaft. He sucked in a breath as his prick throbbed back, a heavy, needy pressure weighing against his belly as it put on another inch of length without any real effort at all. Hot flesh met hot air, and he groaned in a short, shuddering pant.

His breath coming in slow, even pulls, Shining did his desperate best to keep one eye on his work even as his other watched his fingers running lightly up and down the swelling bulge in his working shirt. For all his work on self control and discipline, a big stallion tended to have equally big needs.

He traced his fingers around the clean-cut outline, instinctively marvelling at the way his button-down shirt seemed to ripple and groan around his lengthening girth. Almost involuntarily, he felt his blunt crown push up between his pecs and gave them a swift flex, pinching his pulsating cock between his muscular cleavage and forcing it up and against the fabric of his taut shirt. His buttons creaked, the fabric almost seeming to whimper as a fat smear of dark precum dampened the space just below his collar, leaving his shirt with a rather musky-looking stain.

His undershirt had been pushed up and out from where it'd been tucked into his waistband, leaving a good inch of bright white fur to poke through. Shining's hand drifted casually to the place where his hip met his thigh, squeezing the thick muscle there for a brief moment before rubbing up against his stomach. The first row of his abs were naked to the air now, their familiar hardness comforting to his fingertips. His fist curled inward, his knuckles brushing steadily against the swollen length of his engorging rod. Shining felt his nostrils flare, heady with his own scent, and stifled a soft moan as he felt his shaft swell up wider in girth than his clenched fist.

As he continued to write, not even missing a beat in his bureaucratic efforts, Shining accommodated and adapted; uncurling his fist and pushing his knuckles underneath the disheveled fabric of his undershirt. Crisp, ironed cotton rasped across his fingers as he moved his hand up around the outline his protruding cock made in his button-down shirt. From above, only the bulging cylinder of cloth-covered flesh was visible; from below, he could actually feel the burning, furnace-like heat of his organ as it inched its way up between his rippling abs, each flex of his length only spurring his pecs to clench more tightly around it.

With a nearly lifelike enthusiasm, his turgid member pushed its way past his collar, his hefty head poking up into the stale office air with a soft quiver of excitement. Shining's nostrils flared again at the suddenly intensified scent of his own musk; his thick, masculine smell filled his lungs with longing, and left his head-sized biceps flexing with pent-up strength.

His big fingers tightened around his ballsack, kneading the warm, sloshing orbs beneath his palms. Whinnying softly as he scanned down the subject line of the next form, Shining let his head fall forward, his chin descending just enough to press against the bulwark of his flare.

It was already slick with pre, wet and glistening with his arousal. Admittedly, that didn't mean much - at his size, it was rare that there was a time when Shining wasn't aroused. He nuzzled it, almost nonchalantly, with his chin, his nostrils pressing hungrily against his dripping curve as his balls swelled larger in his grip below. The forgotten buttons of his slacks hung pathetically beneath his chair, the waistband creaking as his basketball-sized testes grew fuller in size, the fabric groaning as thighs built like tree-trunks flexed and contracted to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

With a casual, accidental motion, Shining's tongue flicked out to lick gently at his slit. Copious precum flowed down his fat, rounded flare, leaving an ample meal for his lapping muzzle even as the rest of the flood stained his white button-down damp. As his shirt stuck against his hide, the buttons straining not to pop around his engorged organ, Shining shifted his weight in his seat. The poor swivel chair complained loudly, its slender supports barely able to hold the weight of the four-hundred-pound behemoth lounging on its cushion.

As if it were probing, pushing, exploring new territories, Shining's lower hand slipped upward from his crotch - and then pushed inward, slipping beneath his waistband toward the rich, darkened territories waiting below. His hand pushed further down his pants, slipping past the throbbing monument of his cock's fat base, and curled appreciatively around his taut, smooth balls. His steady fingers gripped harder, tips digging lightly into their cum-bloated depths. He could almost feel them sloshing, the familiar production compelling further need, further action.

Flicking his thumb outward, Shining caught the edge of the speedo-shaped pouch that usually strained to hold his endowment, supporting and - somewhat - concealing it from view. He was far too large to be ignored, yes...but even a stallionhood larger than some ponies' heads could made somewhat subtler, if only its owner owned the proper supports. Rutting on the clock was kind of an offense against discipline, after all. A taut, rubbery - though comfy - pouch wrapped lovingly around his balls, pulling them in toward his body as it hugged to the musky base of his shaft.

But pleasure - now, pleasure didn't need support: only freedom. Still taken with his paperwork, Shining's flick of his hips was an idle afterthought, the subtle spread of his knees all but unnoticeable as his twitching quill scribbled away beneath his big, weighty fist. Even so, between the gentle rocking of his weight, and the sustained pressure of his bulky forearm against it, his pants began to descend down his chiseled legs. Inch by inch, Shining's slacks found themselves wriggling off of his body, more and more of his bulging thighs coming into view as his glistening, pre-streaked testes bounced down beneath the chair, sack stretching to accommodate their turgid weight.

Fabric strained, threads creaking as Shining's manhood swelled and throbbed, lazily demanding space. And then, with a flex - pop, pop, pop! went the buttons on his shirt, flying free of their constituent holes. His button-down shirt was rudely flung open to make room for his steadily pulsing member, the shaft of which was all but obscenely outlined in the tight, pre-drenched white of his undershirt.

Working his cheeks in and out over his gums, Shining pushed his lips a bit further down, distractedly letting his engorged flare slip past his muzzle as he absentmindedly scribbled at his papers. With one hand holding his quill, his other casually massaged his hefty nuts, kneading fondly at one basketball-sized orb as at least a gallon of seed sloshed inside.

He grunted, groaned, shuddered as a sudden lurch of his cock tore it free from his lips. Pre splattered across his cheeks, covering his muzzle. On reflex alone, Shining's tongue flicked out from his mouth to lap up the mess. Thick globs of precum slid down his throat, his toes curling delightedly inside his well-buffed working shoes, his size-twenty feet clenching and stretching out as his quarter-ton body spread itself across his creaking, whimpering chair.

Precum constantly drooling from his tip, Shining relaxed further and leaned forward ever-so-slightly, just close enough to feel the heat of his flare burning against his nostrils. He nuzzled his lower head, his eyes flicking momentarily from his paperwork to the great expanse of his ballsack, its cum-stuffed orbs bloating and smooshing beneath each squeeze of his thumb. It might be a trifle arrogant, but he did find them rather pretty like that.

Lazily, he gave his heavy testes a squish - and gasped, shuddering as jolts of electricity vaulted up his spine. Shining's great back arched, shoulders broad enough to fit two smaller stallions side-by-side flexing and bulging beneath his shirt as he moaned, just loudly enough for either of his neighbors to hear if they were listening. Not that he particularly cared.

The mindless buzz of the office disappeared around him as blood roared in his ears, the ever-present hum of his own arousal slipping into his thoughts without even a moment's hesitation. Automatically, Shining moved his lips forward to expertly suck on his shaft again, his tongue curling around his pre-stained flare to lap up as much of his own liquid arousal as it possibly could. As he suckled it in the vacuum of his lips, a flood of deliciously salty pre gushed down his throat, a fresh cascade of arousal as his rippling ab muscles clenched and flexed against the turgid veins of his member. Better than the best pretzels, that's for sure.

Shining's ears perked as the rambling of the next-door cubicle reached him - Sweet Cheeks, of course, nattering on about some unimportant, probably dumb fling. She wasn't even bothering to listen to him, of course, and probably wouldn't have even tried to understand what she was hearing if she tried. His chunky pecs flexed, bouncing in their pre-soaked confines as his fat nipples stiffened almost to the point of pain. Shining groaned, his lips slipping further down his slickened shaft as he moved his hand to tweak one of those sensitive nubs, teasing his own voluminous chest as his cock throbbed and pulsed against it.

His hands moved together, his left dropping his quill with a lassitude his sister would have despised, as his right moved lazily across from his pecs. He needed both to wrap fully around his engorged boner, his turgid, quivering shaft so thick around that a smaller stallion would have difficulty wrapping an arm around the whole thing! It lurched as his grip settled around it, bouncing forward and rebounding against his pecs as a fresh jet of pre splattered against the back of his throat, delighted to finally be gripped wholesale by its master at last.

The swivel chair beneath him squeaked, groaned, bent as his massive body rocked upon it, his enormous, bubble-shaped glutes pressing heavily down onto its cushion. Shining's big hands gripped his shaft firmly, powerful fingers pressing deep into his soft, spongy flesh as he swallowed inch after inch of his cock, jerking himself off as the electric tingles of autofellatio set his gurgling balls groaning with fresh seed.

He moaned, murring softly. His shirt was beyond salvation by now, so ruined with pre that he wouldn't be surprised if simply standing up might not tear it in two, if the moment's manipulations didn't do it anyway. His giant cockhead flared out wide as his libido sparked, bulging out the back of his throat as jet after jet of pre-spunk rocketed down into his belly, leaving his core as hot and burning with heat as his groin. Shining gave a muffled, almost choked grunt, the tightness and pressure of it all pushing him to go faster, urging him to press on.

He thought he heard someone call his name. He ignored it, going faster, going harder, as the steady throb-throb of his cock's heartbeat melded with the roar of blood in his ears. His horn sparked upon his forehead, the telekinetic magic for his paperwork long since redirected to massaging, kneading, worshipping his voluminous balls. Their spunky contents gurgled, groaned, swelled as they prepared for their ultimate release.

Shining's nostrils flared, his forty-inch biceps bulging with potent definition as he facefucked himself like a teenage colt in heat, swallowing his smooth, rock-hard member as thick globs and strands of precum drooled and splattered from the sides of his muzzle. His tie, once straight and proud, now drenched with his arousal, caught against his thumb and found itself wrapped around his turgid length, its fabric constricting his throbbing member as it grew steadily larger, thicker, fatter. Shining's desperate moans echoed in his own ears, his breathing growing labored as his tie held his cock in place, his hands jerking it steadily as he suckled greedily on his wide-flared tip -

The obscene pressure bubbling up from his overstimulated nuts reached a peak. Shining felt his massive cock stiffen straight up, his hands struggling to hold it in place as it swelled even larger. Gleaming with precum, his fingers tightened around the space above his bulging medial ring, the thick folds of smooth skin on his lewdly engorged shaft flattening out as his cock pushed further into his throat. It shuddered, twitched, as it prepared itself for its ultimate release.

Shining groaned, his hips bucking forward. With a heavy grunt, he threw himself back in his abused chair, the poor little swivel squeaking a final time before bending backward, the metal frame warping as Shining's massive thighs and glutes pushed the arms apart. His long, powerful legs stretched out across the carpet, his knees bumping against the underside of his desk as his balls forced his thighs even further apart. The twin orbs in his lap pulsed, groaning and gurgling like a sinking ship, as his toes curled within the confines of his clean black socks. The laces and seams of his shoes popped, Shining's massive feet bulging, even growing, as his libido readied itself to explode.

With a roar of triumphant release, Shining's enormous shaft bucked, lurching wildly in his grip, as volleys of his thick, gooey cum erupted past his suckling lips. Shining found himself swallowing huge gets of spunk, gulping down load after load as each fresh blast splattered against the inside of his throat, threatening to surpass his ability to contain it. His torso-thick biceps flexed, bulged, his fists clenching as veins the width of some ponies' fingers stood out on his massive musculature, bulging beneath the skin of his rigid, spasming cock.

His flood of release rushed into his hungry belly, his creamy, dense load gushing down his throat with each contraction of his mega-nuts. Shining's moaning and murring reached a low, growling crescendo. With his pulsating, bulging, pounding shaft pressed tightly against his belly, he could actually feel his abdomen losing its definition, his tight ab muscles growing softer, then rounding out as each fresh wave of cum left his belly growing a little bit pudgier, a little bit more bloated. His grateful balls churned with seemingly endless supplies of seed, each new geyser leaving him grunting, flexing, moaning for more as his powerful obliques flexed and spread with his impossibly broad shoulders, denting and deforming the remains of his paltry little seat even further.

His magnificent balls, big enough to dribble on a court yet fat enough to squeeze, throbbed in time with his orgasm, each shock of release sending currents of electricity searing his mind with the pleasure. Cum, cum, cum - there was just so much cum! Pints of it, quarts, gallons spilled down his throat, choking him on it, filling his lungs with his own manly musk as his belly swelled and sloshed out to a sizable beer gut yet pushing his mind to the best high ever.

Sputtering, still moaning weakly, Shining let the pressure around his lips weaken. Instantly, a heavy backwash of spooge left his near-bare pecs drenched with cupfuls of his hot, sticky load, his pecs dripping, oozing with massive, ropey strands of his spunk. His eyes rolled back, face flushed with heat, and his godlike body shuddered as, with one final contraction, his hypercock lurched and splattered his muzzle and cheeks with one last enormous glob of his own virile cum.

His climax slowed to a trickle, with only a few gooey strands of cum still oozing from his flare. Shining reluctantly pulled his muzzle away with a trembling pop, one last lurch of his member painting his shirt and tie and mane with enough jizz to cover an easel. He weakly licked his cum-spattered lips and groaned in a mixture of exhaustion and satisfaction. Release, warm and light, spread through his veins as his powerful muscles flexed and relaxed in turn.

Slowly, the unwelcome sounds of the office space filtered back into his once-tranquil perception. The buzz of conversation, the clicking of staplers, the scratching of quills - Shining groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he realized just how much of a mess he'd made. His body was covered in his own pleasure, his clothes alone ruined with enough cum and precum to feed a small family a full-liquid meal.

"Sergeant Armor! Where the fuck are you?"

Shining's ears perked up. Oh, crap. That was the el-tee's voice, alright. His ears went back, and he winced, grunting a bit as he tried to shift his weight in his ruined chair. He grunted again, groaned as he heaved his not-negligible weight forward - and felt his overstuffed cum-gut squish against his softening member.

Despite the mountains of trouble he certainly would be in for this, Shining couldn't help but grin as he took stock of his well-rounded middle. Gallons of his own cum sloshed and bounced as he moved to stand up, his spare-tire of a cum-gut flopping over his waistband as it pushed his undershirt up past his navel, exposing a good eight inches of bloated, cum-filled unicorn belly to the world. He chuckled, blushing, and pressed his fingers against the soft surface of his stomach, feeling it squish and slosh beneath his grip as his softening cock retreated underneath the collar of his shirt.

Welp. He definitely wasn't going to be making any good impressions with this, finished paperwork or not. Shining blushed, and couldn't quite keep himself from smiling as he cradled his big cum-baby, happily ignorant of the way his massive, seven-foot frame towered above the cubicles around him, revealing his towering, cum-drenched frame to anypony who might have bothered to look up. Again.

"Armor! Get your lazy flank over here, now!"

Shining's grin twitched, his blush deepening and a shy wriggle adding itself to his tail. He probably wouldn’t get the best performance review out of this. Still, though, he couldn't quite help but wonder if the el-tee might not be willing to help him clean off.

Superior or no, that stallion had one heck of a gorgeous ass.