MacFic 2, by ARCTURIAN


                                            >Trooper, you mean Big Mac, keeps you in a hug, sobbing

                                            >Then just sort of snuffling and sniffling

                                            >All the while, you're hugging him back and stroking his ears and neck softly, running your fingers through his shortened mane

                                            >The pony finally falls asleep after half an hour.

                                            >Slowly escape the ponybeast's clutches with a cunning Indiana Jones style body pillow switch

                                            >Yes, you own a body pillow, it's good for hugging

                                            >Sneak to your laptop and start googling talking ponymonsters

                                            >And symptoms of a concussion or sudden schizophrenia


                                            >Google tells you that there are, in fact, talking ponythings for sale for godawful amounts of money

                                            >And that you have brain cancer twice

                                            >According to most of the FAQ sites the ponies are intelligent, but are raised to always want to be a pet

                                            >You use your google-fu to try and find out why this has never been on the news

                                            >Oh, Real Jersey Shore Troll Edition premiered the same week these things went public

                                            >Ponies need about as much attention as most dogs, and can handle simple tasks

                                            >They aren't allergic to anything strange and can live for around 70 years if cared for properly

                                            >Almost no ponies are in the adoption system, most owners are vetted beforehand and the ponies tend to learn what their masters want very quickly

                                            >Definitely not telling Mac about that

                                            >You bookmark some suggested recipes for treats and ideas for games and activites

                                            >Close the laptop, walk by the sleeping mac and gently ruffle his mane

                                            >He makes a soft sound and lifts his head into your hand for a moment

                                            >Pick up the ragbeast Smarty Pants and gently push it down between his chest and the pillow


                                            >You have some mostly-fresh salad mix in the fridge

                                            >Pour that into a large bowl and leave it on the floor near your couch where Mac could see it

                                            >Pick up the garbage, sweep and start mopping when Mac finally opens his eyes and looks around


                                            >"S-Sir ya didn' need ta' I was gunna clean that up..."

                                            >You look a little confused at the pony

                                            "You clean?"

                                            >"Anythin' you need Sir" Mac quickly says, struggling to get out of the blanket you had wrapped him in, gingerly setting Smarty Pants aside on the couch cushion

                                            >He gets down, foreleg not giving him any trouble, he sits on his haunches and looks anxiously at you, ears half-splayed out

                                            >"Ah didn' mean ta make a mess ah was just tryin' ta get Smarty Pants back..."

                                            "You could have asked"

                                            >You finish drying the floor after the mopping, and it looks as clean as a 70's era floor can

                                            >"Ah figgerd people didn' like pets talkin'... after ah..." The pony closes his eyes and hangs his head

                                            >"Ah can' get anythin' right..."

                                            >You walk over to the pony and softly stroke his ears

                                            "Mac, it's okay. I got some salad from the fridge if you're hungry"

                                            >The pony perks up just slightly, casting a glance back at the bowl on the floor "Thank ya' Sir"

                                            >He trots over to the salad, sniffs at it and starts eating like he hasn't seen food in weeks, inhaling the leaves rapidly

                                            >You sit on the couch and watch the pony as he eats, tail swaying slowly; if he was a dog you'd think he was more happy with that salad than anything

                                            >You are not sure how a pony is meant to look but he's a little on the skinny side, but you think with a few weeks of proper food he should look great

                                            >Wait, no, he'll look normal


                                            >You flip on the television and watch some rerun of star trek

                                            >Mac returns to your side and sits on the floor, watching the screen intently

                                            "Mac, you can sit on the couch if you want"

                                            >The pony looks up at you "Ah-ah can?"

                                            "Sure"

                                            >You pat the open spot next to you, the pony scrabbles up grabbing his teaddything and, leaving his head in your lap as you stroke his neck gently

                                            >You prop up your legs on the coffee table, which squeaks

                                            >Mac perks up "Sir do ya have any tools around?"

                                            >You'd gotten a tool kit as an apartmentwarming gift from your parents


                                            >The only use it sees is in spider extermination

                                            "Yeah, over in the closet"

                                            >Mac slides of the couch, trotting to the closet, opening it with a deft twist of his hooves and pulling out the small kit with his teeth, which he sets down nearby

                                            >"Sir, can ya clear off the table please?"

                                            >You don't know where this pony is going but you move everything to the floor as he removes the screwdriver with his mouth

                                            >If he goes postal on your $25 Ikea table, you will certainly feel ambivalent

                                            >He gets his back under the table, trusts out a leg and flips it, catching the table on his leg and lowering it carefully so the surface rests on your floor

                                            >The pony looks around for a moment, foreleg testing the table for loose parts

                                            >One of the leg wobbles like a politician's stance on healthcare

                                            >He holds it still before you can even offer assistance, and manages somehow to screw the leg back in flush, holding it with a hindleg and using both forelegs and mouth to operate the screwdriver

                                            >Pony should qualify for some kind of contortionism award

                                            >He sets the screwdriver back into the kit, nuzzles it into it's clip and flips the table back over, catching and lowering to avoid slamming it on the ground

                                            >"There ya go, Sir."

                                            >You set your feet on it

                                            >Not a squeak to be heard

                                            >You look at Mac with surprise


                                            >"Wh-what'd ah do wrong? Ah triah'd Sir Ah Did!"

                                            >The pony looks ready to start sobbing again

                                            "Mac, Relax, I like it."

                                            >"Ya do?"

                                            "I do, I promise"

                                            >Mac smiles and nuzzles your leg, then closes and returns the toolkit to the closet, even shutting the door behind him as he returns to your side, sides heaving a little with heavy breaths as he rests his head on the armrest.

                                            >You stroke his mane and ears, and feel a little sweat

                                            >He must've atrophied in the deathpit, even your shriveled frame can move that table easily

                                            "Mac, you can still sit on the couch"

                                            >"Thanks Sir" He says, trotting under your legs and getting on the cushion next to you after you clear the detritus


                                            >He's still panting heavily and sweaty, you can feel it as you stroke his ribs

                                            >He rests his head in your lap, and suddenly you realize you're sporting an uncomfortable halfy

                                            >Shit, missed the morning session

                                            >Never miss your morning session


                                            >Mac shifts his head around in your lap, trying to find a comfortable spot

                                            >Try to think unboner thoughts as something warm, soft, and endearing twiddles around your junk

                                            >That's just making it worse

                                            >"Uh... Sir?" Mac Says curiously

                                            "Yes, Mac?"

                                            >"Yer... ah, well... ah learn'd a pet aint got no right tellin' their owners want to do with them an' if ya wanna..."

                                            >He gently nuzzles the crotch of your pants, breathing slowing down, eyes looking to you with something like worry

                                            >"Ah... ah can h-help ya with that..."

                                            "L-look Mac, I like girls, but thanks"

                                            >"Ma old owner tol' me it wasn' gay if it wasn' a dude..."

                                            >You stop. Sheesh, maybe his name should have been trooper, most people with his issues started tumblrs.

                                            >You go back to petting his side, feeling the slight uneveness of his coat

                                            >"Ah-ah just wanna show ya I appreciate everythin' you' done."

                                            >He nuzzles just below your belt

                                            >Huston we have full strength


                                            >You lay a hand on his side. You definitely do not want any of the house-cleaning, table-fixing, sweaty, powerfully built, grateful, submissive, southern-accented

                                            >Who are you kidding

                                            >Mac keeps nuzzling softly, MiniAnon more then enjoying the attention

                                            >You let the pressure on his up, look around to see if anyone has entered your home lately, and undo your belt

                                            >Mac scoots a little closer, undoing the button and zipper with his mouth

                                            >You move around, back on the armrest, legs on either side of the warm, slightly heaving Mac

                                            >The pony takes your underwear band in your mouth, pulling it down, warm breath brushing your shaft the whole way down

                                            >And he even does it slowly

                                            >MiniAnon is ready to go as Mac nuzzles your balls with gentle care, warm soft tongue tracing the line back up


                                            >His nuzzling moves along MiniAnon

                                            >His nose and lips are soft, gentle, like velvet

                                            >His deep, regular and slightly moist breaths brush you like a rainforest breeze

                                            >His tongue wraps around the whole front half, surface gentle, warm and wet

                                            >By the time he's at the top he's licking up a bead of slick pre and smiling contently

                                            >His soft lips brush the head of MiniAnon, breaths still warm, wet and slow as he kisses and carefully moves down onto to your flesh


                                            >Holy crap this feels amazing, his tongue cradling the whole underside, his fuzzy, strong lips sealing around the base of your shaft, more like a pair of velvet fingers then anything

                                            >His breath never stops, hot and wet as he starts bobbing along your shaft

                                            >Mother earth herself could not do this

                                            >You shiver as he increases his pace, lips exploring every inch of your shaft, tongue slowly exploring your head, practically milking you

                                            >Your hands rest on his head, one in his mane, tangling with the hair carefully, the other getting a grip on his collar, being just careful enough to not choke or pull on him

                                            >His bobbing continues, lips pressing and squeezing, tongue and breath wetting your shaft

                                            >You don't even know how long it goes

                                            >His lips keep pressure, a warm velvet grip

                                            >His breath and tongue are...

                                            >Are...

                                            >Before you can think of anything else, you feel the shocking bliss of orgasm


                                            >Mac continues, lips stroking, tongue lapping, the whole time pressing you deeper into the afterglow

                                            >He lifts his head, looking tired but content, your already half-limp MiniAnon done.

                                            >You stroke his mane softly

                                            "Th-that was... great"

                                            >"Ah triah Sir" He says, settling his head down, nuzzling your hands gently and you let go of his collar

                                            >You take a few deep breaths, getting your pants back on with shaky hands

                                            "Do you need..."

                                            >"No, Sir. Ah'm alright" He says dreamily, nuzzling your thigh

                                            >You lean back, still petting his ears and cheeks


                                            >Mac cuddles up to you, and you feel...

                                            >Oh, jeeze, this pony has a fifth and a half leg prodding you gently

                                            >You really should do him a solid

                                            >But your head is clearing and you REALLY WANT A GF, RIGHT?

                                            >You settle with hugging him close, rubbing his sides

                                            "You sure you're alright Mac?"

                                            >You gently brush Big Mac 2.0 with your knee

                                            >His eyes snap open

                                            >"Ah-Ah'm sorry Sir Ah'm alright I promise that jus' kinda happened an' you don' need to..."

                                            >You lean down, nuzzle his forehead and hug him tightly

                                            "Mac, it's alright"

                                            >Between the offer to clean, the fixing the table for free and, that brain-melting experience you do owe him

                                            >You lay him on his back


                                            >Mac looks alarmed

                                            >"S-sir ya really don' need ta"

                                            >Judging by that civilization ending pillar, you should

                                            >You lean down, nuzzling his already hard shaft

                                            >It smells like hay and hard work

                                            >Mac twitches gently, hindlegs pulling in

                                            >"Sir..." He says in a trailing whine, ears laying flat

                                            "Mac, it's alright"

                                            >You lick from the middle of his shaft to the tip, the whole thing oddly shaped but tasting kind of pleasant

                                            >It's like that dream you keep having, but with a bright red horse

                                            >It takes a lot of work, but you manage to get the tip and a few inches in your mouth

                                            >Mac gasps, twitches, and slowly relaxes, nickering a gentle nothing

                                            >You take a long lick, the pony's flesh tasting of salt, an honest musky something, and a grassy flavor

                                            >Mac bucks into your attention, thick, salty pre flooding your mouth.

                                            >With a little work you swallow it, the flavor bizarre but like Mac, honest and earthy.

                                            >The swallow drives Mac into another loud moan, and you feel the first fitful spurts of ropey cum on your tongue.

                                            >Wheat, grass, salty sweat

                                            >You have just enough time to think and pull your mouth off, quickly moving your hand in and stroking as your pet cums

                                            >The red pony moans and writhes slowly under your attention, his hooves pressing against you softly

                                            >His chest is coated in white, thick liquid


                                            >And his chin, you bought a shooter


                                            >"Thank you S-Sir..."

                                            >Mac is panting as his hooves work at the air in slow motion

                                            >Your mouth is still full of his seed, and your lips feel feel heavy as well

                                            >He leans up, licking your lips to clean you off

                                            >Not sure if... eh, it's actually rather nice

                                            >You swallow, which is kinda gross but at leas it tastes okay

                                            >Mac licks you, then himself clean, flexible enough to get his whole chest and belly


                                            >The pony rolls over to his belly and rests his head in your lap, tail swaying as you stroke his ears

                                            >You both watch the end of that episode of star trek

                                            >Big Mac has his head on your chest, forelegs around your middle, nickering softly content nothings

                                            >The time is ten in the morning