FSE

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'Fan-fucking-tastic' Gazing up at the somewhat decrepit church steeple I give my mane a toss, as much out of irritation at my poor sense of direction than to keep it from my eyes. Flicking my gaze back down the road I consider where exactly I went wrong with an irritated nicker at the poor signage. All the way back to the last turn, then around, hop a fence... Far too long for this late at night. I'd like to get some amount of sleep in my own bed, not picking some random field like I'm some common horse.

Which leaves me with the run-down church. Or perhaps more accurately, the graveyard surrounding it. It's not that it's hard to get into; a gentle push with a forehoof has the lychgate swinging open, albeit with the grating sound of unoiled hinge. Loud enough to cause me to flinch at the sound, and it's the turn of my tail to flick in irritation. Followed up with a swift snort as the gate catches my hinds before I'm quite through, earning the wood a swift kick. So yes, not hard to get into. But something about passing through a moonlit graveyard on Halloween just... doesn't sound sensible.

'Ow.' At least the slight soreness serves as a distraction, both from the vague sense of dread and the bits of toffee apple still caught infuriatingly between my teeth, persistent under the fiercest scrutiny my tongue can give them. Something to add to the list for tomorrow - or is it later today - as I start to pick my way through the deserted graveyard after checking that no obvious damage had been done to that gate. Wouldn't want to be done for damaging historic property after all, and with how old this place is-

A sudden chill wind passing across my back makes me freeze mid-pace, forehoof gradually lowering to the floor as I turn my head side-to-side. Aside from my mane nothing else moves; it's a graveyard, and despite the date it doesn't appear like the dead are rising. Chalking it off to just a stray breeze on an otherwise still night I start off again. Making it barely a couple of paces before I feel it again, stronger this time. A wash of cold air across my hinds, brushing over almost as if it were some large beast exhaling.

After a fleeting moment of terror I force myself to move, hopping my hindquarters around in a sort of half-spin as my eyes scan left and right. Still nothing else moves, barely even a sound aside from the echo of my hoofbeats through the night air. With a snort that evokes an image of bravery far greater than I'm actually feeling I get back to the task of crossing over this rather large field of the dead, moving at a rather brisker walk.

At least I did, getting almost halfway across the expanse of gravestones before sliding to a halt. For the first time I spy movement other than my own treacherous, flicking tail that appears now and then in my peripheral vision. What exactly it is I'm looking at I couldn't rightly say; almost like a puddle of fog on the ground. Except fog doesn't glow, and fog doesn't start to rise from the ground either. A rapid *tap-tap-tap* fills the air as one of my hind hooves taps the ground, though unfortunately for me that's the only part of my body I can seem to move. Otherwise frozen in place as this ethereal mist starts to take on a recognisable shape.

'Fuck me, that's a big horse...' What was at first an indistinguishable blob continues to shape itself into a proper form, an equine form, bones breaking through the earth to be sucked into their appropriate places within the ghostly horse. It's not a sight one sees everyday, and perhaps it was that shock that kept me rooted in place for far too long. By the time that I finally wrench back control of my body from the malaise of fear the spectral stallion is near-fully formed.

And my word, there's no mistaking the fact that he is a stallion. Even considering the fact that he's standing a fair few hands taller than I do - and as a thoroughbred, that's a rare enough occasion by itself - the spiritual shaft dangling from his hinds seems even more enormous than it should. Unsurprisingly that's one of the places where my eyes linger as I start to slowly back off, trying to avoid any sudden movements as I shift my gaze from that impressive stallionhood to that slightly disturbing skull. Shaped as if this stallion comes from a place where equines are apex predators, and even though those glowing eyes seem directionless I know that he's looking at me.

'Why isn't he following me? No wait, it doesn't matter, so long as he keeps not following me... Ah shit~' My luck, such as it was, seems to have already run out. Barely a half-dozen paces back and now the spectral stallion is following me, closing the distance with his large strides. Every step of his long legs covers almost twice the ground of my own, and I'm going slower now by going backwards. Making a snap decision I rear up and whirl myself around, mane and tail flying as I flex my hindquarter muscles to send myself into an immediate canter.

Heedless of the dangers of such a pace through the uneven ground I press on regardless, a slight feeling of elation rising in me despite the terrifying situation I'm in. A momentary high that is extinguished as soon as I feel that ghostly muzzle nip at my flank, the spectre having managed to find my backward blind spot with unerring ease. That action earns them a swift kick, a move I immediately regret as I feel my fetlock suddenly subsumed by icy cold ectoplasm.

With a loud whinny at the shock I go tumbling to the ground, my stride totally thrown by that unexpected feeling. I might have managed to keep myself standing were it not for the hole my forehoof catches in at the same time, a tumble of slightly sweaty equine ensuing as I end up sliding on my side. Fortunately not very far, a quick glance over my body enough to satisfy myself that there doesn't seem to be any damage. The surprise of falling momentarily distracts from the fear of the ethereal equine.

He reminds me of his presence after a second. An icily cold hoof presses against my shoulders, drawing a reflexive shiver that passes along my spine. Not daring to move a muscle lest any movement of mine cause this large monster to react poorly, for once my fear-induced freezing helping me out. Well, presumably helping me at least; I still have no idea how I'm going to get out of this. I can't outrun the stallion, nor outfight him. He's clearly a predator of some description too, arousing thoughts of being turned into nothing more than an inter-dimensional meal.

Or... A fresh shiver passes through me, though this one is brought on not just by the icy touch of the large stallion looming over me. That oddly shaped muzzle of his has just been shoved under my partly-wrapped tail, shamelessly pressing right up against my tightly-puckered donut. In contrast to the deep chill emanating from that hoof on my back that hard, bony snout is surprisingly warm. Well, warm is not quite the right word, but it's certainly not got the same frigidity as his hoof. Though perhaps that's because it's mostly bone, held together with some powerful necromantic magic, rather than that gooey ectoplasm.

A brief whinny is forced from my muzzle at the feeling of something distinctly warmer pressing against my ring. Lifting my head slightly, as if I could hope to look past my hinds to see exactly what the ghost is doing. Fat chance of that with that mass of muscle in the way, and a second later I hardly need to look. What is unmistakeably a tongue, slightly cool to the touch but no less pleasant feeling for it, if pleasant is an appropriate word considering the situation I'm in.

There's no denying that this stallion is skilful. From the way that his pseudo-tongue eases its way past my ring, gently pressing into my rump. Moving with a slowness uncommon in the usual mating rush of a stallion, slowly enough that I can feel every centimetre of gradually thickening appendage as it works its way deeper into my colon. For a brief moment I imagine that this night might turn out for the better after all, the thought relaxing to my still fear-addled brain.

Turns out that my relaxing was perhaps not the best of plans as I feel that tongue rather quickly withdraw. Leaving my pucker clenching around nothing as the spectral stud takes a step away from where I'm still laid out on the ground, snorting and stomping a hoof. Not entirely sure what he wants - understanding regular equines is hard enough, let alone when they're formed from translucent goo and bones - I steadily gather my legs beneath me and stand. Tail slightly lifted to avoid dragging its fine hairs through... whatever that is I can feel seeping gradually from my butt.

Apparently this wasn't quite what the ghost had in mind, the universal symbol of pinned ears making that clear. The jabs of his head in my direction are most definitely less clear, and I cock my head to the side to try and highlight my confusion. It doesn't seem to help as the stud steps back to my side, able to lift a foreleg high enough to almost rest atop my shoulders! With a great deal of uncertainty still I move to lower myself back to the ground, stopped by aloud snort from the stallion. Glancing again at where his hoof is I try to lower just my front instead, suddenly finding a fresh use for all those bowing lessons from the past.

'Why do you want me like... Oh.' It takes an embarrassingly long time for me to realise why the stallion wants me positioned like this, tilting my head to the side so I can peer back a little better. That lifted hoof coming to rest on my neck, not quite so chilly to the touch now, keeps me from moving further. Though I need not shift myself in order to see exactly what the ghost has in mind. That stallionhood of his that I had only glanced at - alright, I took a long look at it - when it was still flaccid is now anything but. A proud spear of equine masculinity, sprouting from his loins and reaching a fair way towards his forelegs, looking near twice as thick as my own.

If there was a time for second thoughts, it was probably before I decided that walking through a seemingly deserted graveyard in the dead of night, on Halloween no less, was a good idea. Faced with a shaft that was going to stretch me to the limit I try to figure a way out of this mess, my mind drawing a blank as it gets overwhelmed by the image of that translucent equine dick. Even showing the stallion a little of the whites of my eyes does nothing of note, except perhaps draw a little nicker from the stud. Whether he was trying to calm me or was just gloating, I couldn't possibly say. In any case he didn't stop moving his hindquarters to send that blunt cockhead of his smearing across my rump.

'You won't fit.. Just give up, you big-' A sharp intake of breath marks the moment I feel that large equine flare pressing against my ass, having smeared his ghostly pre across my hinds. With little apparent effort it's pressed in against that muscular ring, my poor donut already starting to stretch around him. Quickly taking a few fortifying breaths I decide to see whether I can keep the stallion out. Puckering up my rear as best as I can in an attempt to prevent the impending violation of my ass serves only to egg the spectral stallion on, that hoof of his pressing a little harder down on my neck as he gives his strangely ethereal nicker.

Even before he tries his first thrust I suspect that this is a losing battle, and the amount of power that he manages to get into that motion confirms it. I manage to hold him back, barely, though for a moment I could feel my ring starting to give way regardless of my best efforts. With my breathing still rapid I don't get the chance to recover before he's pushing again, a sharp jab forwards that forced my entrance open a touch and allowing a spurt of his pre to splash through.

It's the feeling of that oddly soothing fluid splashing against the inner walls of my rectum that hammers home the futility of my position. He's clearly not one to be dissuaded by a little resistance, and with his pre already lubing up my rear there's only so long I'd be able to keep him out anyway. So with that in mind I figure I may as well enjoy the experience, and as I let that puckering ass of mine relax slightly it's clear that the spectral stud picks up the message too. A satisfied snort coming from somewhere behind me as he feels that relaxation against his flare, the stud adjusting himself into a better position to breed me.

Not that I can see him moving, more feel the shifting of his cock as it pulls my ass a little this way and that. I'm well aware of when he feels lined up, as my donut is greeted with the full force of a stallion. An instinctive whinny forced from my snout as that spectral stud stick slides in with surprising ease, battering its way past my entrance and lodging a good few inches inside of my immediately stretched-feeling rear. The stallion neighs in tandem with me, an eerie, far-away sort of sound that sends a chill down my spine. A feeling that is immediately quashed by that large stud's hips bearing down on my poor hinds with enough force to push an extra couple of inches of thick, very real-feeling spectral dick into me.

A sound that I swear was meant to be a snort escapes me, though by the time it's out my nostrils it's much closer to a whimper as the stallion's cock slides back very slightly. It may have only gone back an inch but it's like I can feel every single millimetre of the thick rod as my muscles throb in time with my gradually raising pulse around it. A slight increase in his hoof pressure is the only warning I get before the ghost shoves forward again, this time the sound forced out of me a most definite whimper as the stud somehow manages to sink an entire foot of thick, veiny stallionhood into my rear.

Quite why he needs veins along his shaft I neither know nor care right now. In fact I find myself rapidly incapable of much thought at all as the spectre picks up a pace more akin to what I would expect from a stallion; fast, relentless, caring only about stuffing as much cock in before the inevitable release. It's eerily quiet as the spectral stud thrusts, the only sounds in the graveyard coming from me as he works my hole. Snorts, whinnies, the occasional whimper as yet more thick inches of turgid horse cock push their way through my tailhole, the sound of pre squelching out whenever he pulls back. But none of the same snorts or whinnies from the ghost.

Not that he needs to be vocalising his pleasure when I can feel it as he works his way ever deeper into my guts. Feel it in the way that his shaft practically sprays pre into my bowels before getting spread round by his flare, poor stretched pucker of mine already feeling like it's going to be left gaped open for a while. When the stallion pauses for a few seconds I let out a shaky breath, wondering whether that's the limit of his shaft - or at least what he can fit into me. Adjusting my legs slightly in that brief moment, gasping at the moment when an unintentional amount of my weight gets held up by that translucent shaft.

Apparently he was just waiting for me to get comfortable. With a mighty heave of his hips I feel that thick cock pulled from me, leaving a feeling of sudden emptiness for as long as it takes him to power his way back in. Turns out I was wrong about the depth; somehow, some way he's found what feels like an extra foot of cock. And the space to shove it too, a wavering neigh echoing off decrepit gravestones and crumbling walls as he finally, surely, hopefully gets close. I manage to be a little quieter when he repeats the motion, and the third is when I feel the unmistakeable feeling of him bottoming out in my tailhole. Confirmed as he gives me a light tap with his forehoof, as if commending my ability to be speared open by horse cock.

'Surely he must be close now...' Any regular stallion would already be dismounting after this long, but who knows whether the rules apply to a horse in spirit form. As the stallion pulls back, gradually swelling flare dragging back along my insides as he goes, I hear the unmistakeable sound of a belly slap. So focused on the cock in my ass I hadn't even noticed that my own was growing, pressed out by that relentless pressure on my prostate most likely, only brought to my attention by that fresh sound echoing through the graveyard.

Once again my body sends a signal to the stud, who grinds his shaft into me for a moment before pulling half-way back. Enough for that medial ring to slip out through my entrance, only to slide back inside when the stallion thrusts forwards again. His thrust in ends with the sound of spectral balls slapping up against my perineum, accompanied by another slap of my ebony length against my belly. This time I feel the spurt of pre as it dampens my fur, the action causing my body to reflexively clench around the thick invader. I take the stud's hoof pressing a little firmer against my neck as a good sign; how could I not as they repeat that motion again, quicker.

And again, and again. On that fourth stroke I feel myself tipping over the edge, balls contracting up into my loins and donut squeezing as tight as it can around the breeding stud. Shivering for just a moment before my raised tail is flicking up-and-down as I unload the contents of those decently sized orbs all over the grassy floor. Well, I wish. A fair amount of my load winds up spattered across my belly and forelegs, some even having the bad luck to land in my mane. I'm rather too tired to make much more than a quiet, wavering whinny as I release, my body apparently deciding to spend its energy squeezing my donut around the studstick spreading it, massaging with what muscles there are within my passage.

Those squeezes are apparently enough. Without bothering to pull back the stud gives a final press in, firmly pushing his sheath and much larger balls against my rump. I feel that flare of his growing almost alarmingly large a moment before the first spray of stallion seed starts to fill me. Having that same unexpected warmth to it as his pre - unexpected, but certainly appreciated as it spreads through my guts. Spurt after spurt, continuing on long past the end of my own release. Not that my cock softens in the slightest, not with that much pressure up against my prostate, or the feeling of ever-spreading warmth deep within my bowels. Staying up at full mast, firmly against my belly throughout, only starting to soften once I feel the stud's release come to an end too.

Once again the alien nature of this stallion shines through. Rather than dismounting right away, as many a horse would do, he stays stood in place. Hoof on my neck, cock deep in my ass, making sure that his seed stays locked in nice and deep while his flare stays, well, flared. Only starting to pull himself back once it softens sufficiently, though it still causes enough pleasure within me to draw a few more whimpers, and a brief resurgence from my own stallionhood, before it finally reaches my well-stretched donut. A slight tug then is all that's needed for the stallion's cockhead to pop from my body, followed by a fair amount of ghostly cum sliding down my rump.

---

I don't know how long I stayed there with my ass up in the air, tail raised proud in a vain attempt to keep its hairs clean, panting. At some point I lost the fight against tiredness and slipped off to sleep after collapsing down onto my side, quite the swollen belly and stretched ring to mark the night. Already making plans to spend next Halloween in the graveyard, perhaps with a few other friends for good measure...