Cleaning up the barn was dirty, sweaty work.

It had been a long, busy summer, and the Apple Family and their farmhoof Caramel had triaged the chore of cleaning the barn until it was musty and dank and unpleasant to be in and couldn’t be ignored any longer. They had been at it for four hours. Four hard, long, sweaty, tiring hours. Caramel worked right there next to Mac, getting bits of hay and gunk all over his sticky body and feeling like a dirty slut for it, smelling Mac, smelling him, his rich raw scent of overwhelming, exaggerated masculinity filling his nostrils, so intense it sang to him, so intense it stung his nostrils.

He had to will himself not to get hard in front of Mac’s sisters. And Mac knew every time he started to slip out. The cavernous nostrils in that square, rugged crag of a snout would flare, and he'd look towards Caramel with a glance that said You let that out in front of my baby sister and I will rip it out at the root. A gaze that withered his budding tumescence like an apple left out in the sun.

The fact that Mac was so protective of his family that he’d break his favorite fuck toy just to protect Apple Bloom’s presumed innocence turned Caramel on even more, so that pre drooled from his cocktip and he had to smear it across the floor with his back hoof to hide it from Mac, blushing with shame as he did.

It was agony keeping it in, keeping his lust at bay. Seed built up in his nuts, a harvest aching to be brought in, and knowing it would have to wait not only until the sisters were gone, but until Mac had had his pleasure only made the pain worse. A literal, physical pain; built up, backed up cum swelling his balls and clogging his tubes.

Caramel loved it.

He was a total pain slut. He loved hurt and humiliation—at least, he loved it if he knew he was with someone who cared about him and wouldn’t let him get really hurt—and Mac might be a stand-up stallion, but he was also a complete fucking bastard.

Why, oh why, did he have to wait so, so long for that sweet, sweet suffering? Sure, the barn was dirty, but he was even dirtier! And didn’t the girls have other things to do?

“Oh hay biscuits, I’m late for my dang ponypedi,” said Applejack. “Mac, you got the rest of this job handled?”

“Eyup.”

“Great. Love ya big guy.” She hugged him and rushed off in a puff of dust. Caramel breathed a sigh of partial relief; her spa visits with Rarity typically lasted all weekend. That just left the little one. Not so little these days, she was close to being taller than Caramel; almost as tall as Applejack, if still with a filly’s thinness in her legs and barrel.

“Hey Apple Bloom,” said Mac. “Why don’t you go play with your friends?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” said Apple Bloom. She vanished her tail and mane flying behind her, her bow blown back with the breeze of her passage.

Said breeze knocked Caramel’s forelock over his eyes. He blew it out of the way and Glanced over towards Mac.

Mac faced away from him, pretending to inspect the hose curled up by the door, and shifted his tail to one side in a gesture as old as quadruped sex. A beam of sunshine shined through the windows under the eaves of the barn. Motes of dust danced in the light as it illuminated Mac’s ass. The soft, silky red furs of his red coat glowed in the light, emphasizing the hard surfaces of his angular, slab-like buttock muscles. The silky, slightly leathery dark burgundy skin of his ponut, taint, and balls gleamed where the light hit them, showing how smooth and firm they were.

Caramel was sometimes expected to beg. But he was also expected to know when his Boss wanted pleasure and respond without being asked. Right now, Boss wanted his ass to be worshiped.

He strode over to that wall of perfect thick daddy ass and inhaled deeply, drinking Macintosh’s musk, rolling up his upper lip, and holding the smell against his Jacobson’s organ. His cock, held back with willpower alone for so long, dropped and flared, drooling pre in a line across the floor. He rose on his hind legs, planted his forehooves on Mac’s cheeks, and ran his tongue in a light circle around the outer edge of his pucker, savoring the salty-sour-musky taste. The skin was so smooth and firm, such a lovely, refreshing texture. He flicked his tongue across the pucker, feeling a hint of the softer skin inside.

Macintosh shivered at his lover’s touch, and winked his asshole open, the pucker parting like a magical gateway. Caramel slid his tongue inside, felt the hot, muscular flesh close in around it. Macintosh’s short blonde tail wrapped around the back of Caramel’s head and clamped down, holding him there, forcing him to nuzzle and lick the inside of that silky, cavernous ass.

Caramel wriggled his short brown snout inside, letting the ring of muscle clamp down around it. The only air to breath was the bitter perfume of Macintosh’s ass. Caramel licked around the silky clean, fluted walls of his bowels. Massive buttocks clenched down on his ears.

He leaned forward, licking until he found that special spot inside, the one that made Macintosh’s whole body shudder. Vast lungs drew in a gasp. Buttocks clenched against the sides of Caramels’s head, making his skull creak and his eyeballs feel like they were about to pop out of his head. He leaned forward, forcing himself in deep to get a better lick at that sweet, sweet prostate.

“You’re doing... a mighty fine job there, L’il Guy. How about you give my balls a fondle, though.”

Caramel was reluctant to stop caressing Macintosh’s magnificent ass—it was a wall of softly furred muscle coated with a thin padding of jiggly fat; amazing to hold and touch—but he obeyed. Mac’s nutsack hung low between his back legs, skin clinging tight to his huge balls. Caramel caressed them with the leathery skin of his hoof wall, stroking the tight curves, and then cupped them in his frogs, rolling them around, loving how they overflowed his hooves. He pulled them forward, nestled them against the long line of his throat as he continued to lick inside Macintosh, eyeball-deep in the larger stallion’s ass.

Suddenly, Macintosh’s powerful thighs began to tremble. “Stop! Stop!” He staggered forward, gasping dropped to all four knees. The air outside Macintosh’s body felt cold on Caramel’s snout after being in the oven of his lover’s colossal ass.

Caramel stared in shock at Macintosh. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you, boss?”

“Nope,” said Macintosh.

Caramel looked him over. His gaping plothole, slick with spit. His cock, big and thick as a tree truck, flared and drooling. His back knees bent together and trembling like a newborn foal. He realized he’s almost made him spill one of those massive loads that Caramel knew had gotten him cutie mark of an apple full of seeds, just from licking his ass! His heart swelled with pride.

He could never forget those seeds.

Caramel was not usually proud of himself. He was smallish, effeminate, soft, eternally round and chubby no matter how hard he worked on the farm. He wasn’t brave or tough. Sexually, he was a submissive, and a bottom. But with that submission came a sort of power. The power to bring a stronger, tougher stallion like Macintosh to his knees with pleasure.

Caramel’s grin split his face in half. “Hey, Boss. If you wanna nut, I can help with that.”

Macintosh set his jaw and pushed himself to his hooves. “Eyup. But I gotta take care of something first.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” said Caramel, feigning ignorance and forcing his face into an innocent expression. He knew damn well what was coming next, and they’d agreed for him to pretend like he didn’t want it, even though he very, very much did.

Macintosh turned to face him, his expression as lustful and cruel as that placid, honest face could manage. “I got a powerful piss coming. Ain’t fun to fuck on a full bladder.”

“Well then I’ll wait ‘til you’re back from the toilet,” said Caramel cheerfully.

“Naw,” said Macintosh, stepping close, looming over Caramel. “You’re gonna be my toilet.”

“Oh no, Boss,” said Caramel, backing away. “Nope nope nope. All my nope.”

Macintosh hooked a foreleg over Caramel’s withers with a grip Caramel could have wormed out of with ease if he’d wanted to. “Eyup.”

“B-but it smells so nasty! And it tastes worse!”

“Eyup.”

“And you’ve got so much pee in you! I can never drink it all! I’ll get it all over my face!”

“Eyup.”

“But I’m gonna do it anyway, aren’t I?”

Macintosh tugged at Caramel’s mane with his teeth, silently asking him to roll over onto his back.

Caramel obeyed. Because he loved Macintosh.

And also because he was a filthy disgusting pee slut and he gloried it.

He lay with his legs in the air on the hardwood floor of the barn, vulnerable tummy exposed, his small cock—only an embarrassing eleven inches long!—bobbing with his heartbeat. Macintosh stood over him, his twenty-inch battering ram—longer than Craramel’s whole torso—waving out, its scalloped head fully flared, in desperate need of service. It was deep burgundy near the base, mottled with crimson spots that grew denser until the whole flare was bright red. Veins pumped beneath its surface. A hoof thick at the shaft, wider at the ring and the flare. Even with the incredible elasticity of pony bodies, when they’d first started playing together all Caramel could do for Macintosh was hug that dick until it squirted him in the face. But now he could take it all the way through from either end. His whole body was nothing but a cock sleeve for his stallion, and he loved it.

He hooked his hooves around Macintosh’s shaft and pulled it to his lips. Kissed it, then opened up, wriggling his head until the flare was inside him, puffing out his cheeks.

“You ready, L’il Guy? Don’t wanna drown you.”

“Mgh mh!”

“Okay. Gimme a sec.”

“Mnk yr tmm!” said Caramel, well aware of how difficult it could be to pee through a hardon.

Macintosh gave a shudder and a slight groan. The pee took a moment to make it from his bladder to the end of Macintosh’s cock, but when it did it sprayed out like a garden hose, filling Caramel’s mouth full of apple vinegar. He gulped, swallowing fast, trying to keep up. Pee filled his mouth, puffed out his cheeks, and pressed against Mac’s flare until it overflowed Caramel’s tight-stretch lips. He squinted his eyes closed to keep the yellow streams that poured over his forehead and down his cheeks, soaking his wavy brown mane.

The stream of urine poured down his throat, pumped into his belly. He gulped it down thirstily, his balls aching from the wonderful humiliation. When the stream trickled out, he sucked, pulling that last droplet into his mouth. Macintosh dragged his hips back. His flare popped out of Caramel’s mouth.

Macintosh turned around and backed up. Caramel’s ass. He nudged his swollen flare between Caramel’s plump, round ass cheeks. Caramel kicked up and gripped Macintosh’s hanging beer gut with his hind legs, lifting his ass off the floor. Macintosh pressed his flare against Caramel’s pucker, and Caramel groaned.

Training his ass to take Macintosh dry had been a hard challenge. They’d used huge amounts of Twilight’s special lube at first, and worked him open with toys, going slowly, carefully. Over the months and years, Caramel’s asshole grew stronger, more ductile. In pounding after pounding, Macintosh pushed the smaller pony’s rubbery insides into a perfect cocksleeve, shaped exactly like the dick that Caramel loved so much.

It had ruined Caramell for any other stallion, literally or metaphorically. They’d done the same to his throat so that in either hole most males would find him uselessly loose and pliable. For them, sex with him would be like throwing a hot dog down a hallway, always and forever.

He was Mac’s, and Mac’s alone.

But all that training still didn’t make it easy to take that dick. Especially with the flare out. The blunt, scalloped dick end thumped against Caramel’s hole like it was knocking on a door. Caramel pushed down, opening his ass wide enough to hoof himself, and the wall of flesh pressed against it to no avail. “Harder, Boss. I need you.”

Macintosh leaned his head down. “I don’t wanna break you, little guy.”

Caramel stroked one of the forelegs along the side of his head. “Don’t worry. I can take it.” He clenched his hind legs, sinking them into Macintosh’s gut, and pushed back as hard as his awkward angle allowed. Macintosh groaned, his thigh and ass muscles flexing like he was pulling a cart full of marble blocks. With a sudden stretching sensation, the flare pushed past his tight ponut. A second of almost unbearable pain, and the flare lodged inside of him. It felt satisfying, full, and secure.

Caramel pushed his hind hooves against Macintosh’s tummy, testing to see if his lover’s cock was all the way in. The flare strained at his anal ring, pulling it out from his body. It clung to Macintosh’s cock no matter how hard he pushed. There was a reason the two of them had to wait until they knew they’d be alone for a long time to play: once his cock was up Caramel’s ass it was staying there until he came, and even then it took time and care to get the limp shaft out.

The dick’s shaft, hoof-thick but still narrower than the flare, slid in with ease up to the medial ring. Caramel gasped at the giddy sensation of having so much stallion meat inside of him. He could feel it nudging his organs aside, nestling into its accustomed spot in his belly. The medial ring stopped Macintosh for a second, but a series of harsh, animalistic thrusts popped it through much more easily than the flare.

“You’re tight today, L’il Guy.”

“I ain’t tight, boss. You got bigger.”

Macintosh shuddered and stamped. His cock wiggled inside of him. “Fuck, fuck, tell me how big I am again.”

Caramel laughed and stroked the big muscles of the other stallion’s chest. “You insecure about it, boss? I can you tell you you ain’t got anything you need to compensate for.”

“Do I fill you?”

“So deep, Boss. It feels so good to have you inside me. I’m not a whole pony without you.” He took a deep breath. “So. You wanna go for all the way through?”

Macintosh’s whole body shook. He stopped thrusting; lowered his head. Caramel looked up at his lover; saw his eyes clenched closed and his jaw set. He was struggling not to cum. After a moment, he took a deep gasp. “Dang, just hearing you ask for that feels so good. You sure you want it? I know it’s rough on you.”

“Please,” said Caramel, looking into Macintosh’s big, earnest green eyes with what he hoped were sexy bedroom eyes, or at least a sad puppy expression. “I need it bad.”

Macintosh took a deep breath. “Hold on tight. Let’s get you on something softer, first.”

Caramel gasped as Macintosh flexed his cock and lifted Caramel off the floor with it. He held on with all four legs as the bigger stallion trotted out through the farmyard and into the farmhouse. Macintosh paused at the back door, listening for the sound of Granny Smith’s snores, and then raced up the stairs to the couple’s bedroom. Caramel bounced up and down under Mac, giggling, holding on for dear life, face buried against his chest muscles, loving the way the hard flesh writhed under his lover’s skin as they ran up the stairs, loving the way the cock inside him bounced, the medial ring tugging at his asshole.

Pony lovers often used a piece of furniture called a ‘straddle bed’, a sort of padded hobby horse to give the bottom something to rest on while the top did their duty. It was especially useful with extreme size differences like Macintosh and Caramel’s. They kept theirs next to the bed. Macintosh stepped on top of it, careful to slide Caramel into place without knocking his head. It had a set of grips for each leg; Caramel rested his forehooves against the front ones and kept his hind legs gripped around Macintosh’s beer belly.

“Comfy?” asked Macintosh.

“Little too comfortable, tell you the truth,” said Caramel. “I’d be a dang sight happier with a dick flare coming out of my mouth.”

“Slut,” said Macintosh.

“Fuck me, Boss,” said Caramel.

Macintosh began to shift his hips back and forth. Slowly, at first, getting back into their rhythm. Caramel arched his back against the straddle bed, pressing his soft round ass up onto the impaling dick, letting the stallion he loved know he was ready for more. Macintosh quicked his thrusts in return.

Getting ready to go all the way through was a slow, careful process. The top had to move carefully, to make sure he really was going through and not just getting hung up on a stretchy bit of intestine. And there was a lot of gut to get through; pony insides were a maze of twisty little passages, all alike. In a lot of ways, this was Caramel’s favorite part: a slow, lazy, careful anal fuck on a sweaty summer afternoon. He loved the full, stretchy feeling of having his insides rearranged, the gentle stroking of Macintosh’s dick shaft between his pudgy ass cheeks, the caress of his beer gut against Caramel’s pudgy little body. Macintosh’s cock pushed deeper and deeper inside of him, spreading him open, probing forward endlessly.

The next hurdle was the stomach. With invisible sphincters at the top and the bottom, it was like threading the eye of an invisible needle. That was where a lot of couples gave up, and where a lot of the less careful ones got hurt. Magic was always a good option; they’d hired a sex wizard to help Caramel control the openings and to put a spell on Macintosh’s cock to protect it from stomach acid.

Better safe than sorry.

It still took a lot of work. Macintosh sweated as he poked his flare at Caramel’s middle. Clear salty runnels trickled through his crimson coat. Caramel licked the sweat up; salty and musky. He loved Macintosh so much, loved every line and curve and crevice and secretion of him. Loved the way he could be tender even when using every inch of his insides for pleasure, loved the care he devoted to a sex act many creatures considered unspeakble.

“I’m almost in,” said Macintosh. “Open up for me, L’il Guy.”

Caramel bore down inside and pushed back against Macintosh’s cock. He gasped at the stretching sensation as the flare slipped through into his stomach, and then, seconds later pushed through into his esophagus.

Caramel arched and gasped. His cock twitched, pressed tight against Mac’s soft, fluffy daddy tummy. To say that Macintosh’s cock was completely devastating his prostate was, if anything, an understatement. His balls burned, he might cum at any moment. But he willed himself to hold back. They were past the hard part. The next part was, admittedly, the most dangerous one, but Macintosh came quickly once he was into Caramel’s throat going the wrong way.

“You ready?” said Macintosh.

“I need it,” said Caramel. “All the way through!”

Macintosh’s powerful body surged forward. His cock pushed up through Caramel’s throat, giving him a rich sensation of fullness, like giving Mac a deep throat in reverse. The flare pushed against the opening of Caramel’s throat. He opened wide for it, and the flare surged out into his mouth and mashed against the back of his teeth.

Grunting, sweating, muscles churning like the wheels of a steam engine, Macintosh fucked Caramel’s entire body. His cock pulled back deep into his throat, then rammed out into his mouth, slamming against his teeth from the inside. Deprived of most of his air supply, Caramel began to grow lightheaded. Fire built in his balls.

Macintosh’s hips slammed hard against Caramel’s ass. His flare forced its way between Caramel’s teeth and popped out between them. Macintosh let out the long, deep groan that indicated the stoic stallion’s maximum pleasure, and a shudder rippled through his body. Caramel felt Macintosh’s cock thicken as his load passed through it. It took almost a second and a half for his cum to reach the end of his cock. The first three ropes splattered against the wall. The fourth rolled down his snout and over his eyes and that was the moment he came.

A sensation like hearing the voice of a celestial being tore out from the spot behind his balls. Like the voice of an angel, it was beautiful, terrifying in its intensity, and it made Caramel momentarily lose consciousness. When he came to, Macintosh had pulled his cock back until the flare was in his mid-chest, allowing Caramel to breathe again.

“I love your dick,” groaned Caramel. “I love the way you fuck me.”

“I love you, L’il guy,” said Macintosh.

“I love you too, Boss.”