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It started as a small rumble. Noticeable, but not enough to attract much attention, as if a heavy truck just drove by. Everyone simply carried on with their day.

Then it got bigger. A small earthquake maybe? But the city had earthquakes often, and this would have just been a small one.

The next one was devastating. People were thrown to the ground, the entire ground vibrated, windows shattered in their frames.

The arrival of the giant stallion was greeted with a massive shadow over downtown as even the sun was blocked out, followed by the rush of wind was air was forced away from a football field sized hoof crashing into a quiet residential neighborhood. When the hoof lifted, dozens of homes had just been crashed, flattened and imbedded into the very earth in the somewhat circular crater of doom.

It didn't take long for the panic to start. Sirens began to wail, at first of emergency responders, and then of the massive ones that was used for earthquakes and tornadoes. The throng began to rush away, hoping to escape the monster that now dominated their city.

The few that stood and watched in shock and awe at the mountain of brown fur that covered an impressively toned, unclothed body could tell the horse was furious. With what, no one knew. But when the hoof came down again, this time on a massive parking lot in front of one of a shopping mall, everyone knew that his rage was going to be taken out on their city.

The stallion's ears flicked as he heard the panicked screams and wailing firetrucks and police cars. He scowled even more at the noise, before he stomped on the first few he saw, then picking up a massive fire engine, then crushing it in his hands like it was paper.

The horse said something, but the inhabitants of the city had no idea what the language was. The stallion then tossed the crumpled steel into the nearby mall.

People were streaming out of the shopper's paradise, but that caught the stallion's attention. He reached into the crowd, dozens of people captured by the massive digits. The hand closed firmly, forcing everyone inside into a strange ball of people, but not enough to crush them like the fire truck. His other hand did the same thing, though maybe not quite as gentle as before. He felt people try to punch and kick inside his grip, trying to free themselves. There was even a series of gunshots as a pistol-packing citizen tried to force his way out. The horse growled lowly, increasing the pressure in that hand until sick little pops and screams of agony and terror rose up then silenced, rivulets of red blood and gore flowing through the brown fur and down his hand.

The stallion brought the first hand of people closer to his face. When he opened it palm up, there were at least twenty or thirty people. A quick glance to see the horse rub his blood soaked hand through the fur on his flanks showed what would happen if they protested and fought back. Instead they all fell down on the broad hand and begged, crying for mercy and compassion.

But the horse wasn't in any mood to be nice today. He opened his muzzle, and with a quick flick of his wrist, the hand of candy-sized treats were all thrown in to the cavernous, carnivorous maw. The dark, slick, wet mouth they found themselves in offered no place to hold onto, no chance for a grip, no possibility of escape. A loud gulp, and a swallow dropped most down the dark tube to their demise. The broad tongue worked in his mouth as the stallion began to move forward again, getting the few stubborn stragglers to follow their brothers into the horse's stomach.

Helicopters began to buzz around by now, most from different news agencies and the local police department. The news copters were all streaming live feed to their respective network with "Unknown Monster Attacks" or "Giant Horse Rampage!" flashing in the ticker bar, following the stallion as it made it's way through the increasingly crowded streets of miniscule people and lengthening traffic jams caused by the wreckage of vehicles and destruction of roads and overpasses. A horrifying squelch of metal and flesh came from each step, red splats, crushed bones and flattened metal the only evidence that anything had been standing where craters now lay.

With half a dozen helicopters now buzzing around him, the stallion finally stopped, stomped particularly hard on a knot of traffic and the drivers that had left their transport. He was roaring something out in his language that no one else understood, and swung is hand through the air, catching one of the news copters squarely on the back of his hand. The rotor blades that were normally invisible while in flight snapped quickly one after the other as they struck the stallion's wrist, not even resulting in a cut, before the metal ball that held the terrified reporter and camera-man and two crew members vainly trying to pull away even as they plummeted to the ground. The helicopter exploded in a massive fireball next to the horse's hooves, causing more chaos amongst the ruins and carnage.

The rest of the helicopters quickly flew away, even as the stallion swatted at them. Trying to grab a police marked machine even led to the stallion loosing his balance. The horse stumbled, veering off the angular highway and into the blocks of apartments, single family homes and multi-story store fronts, his hooves easily smashing through concrete, brick, wood and stone alike.

The horse panted, his nostrils flaring, emitting hot streams of air. The stallion was beyond angry at this point: enraged wasn't descriptive enough and livid seemed tame. It might not have helped (or been a direct cause of his rising temper) that the stallion's sheathe began to stretch and open, a pink and black mottled spear of flesh pooling out and rising higher and higher until soon even most of the skyscrapers in the city would be intimidated.

With a grunt the stallion managed to find his footing again and resumed his march downtown, this time crashing through the built up areas around the core, the massive cock acting like a magnet to drag the horse to the only buildings around that rivaled his stature, and even then only the three or four tallest could even hope to overtop him.

A loud roar of jet engines streaking past the stallion made him flinch and snort. The sonic boom of the advanced fighters slammed into the stallion's back. While the damage was negligible, the bang made the horse whinny in shock and anger at the damage to his ears. He spun on a hoof, grinding everything beneath it into mulch. His cock slammed into a skyscraper that otherwise would have avoided his wrath, if even for a short while. The steel and glass building was cut in half by the impervious fuck log, the entire building crumbling to ruble.

There were four jets, and they all swung around in perfectly practiced formation. Two broke off to go left, the other two veered right, and approached the stallion from opposite directions. Once the electronics locked on the largest heat signature in the area, the fighter pilots unleashed their barrage of missiles, firing all 16 they had on their craft at once.

Each missile struck the stallion's chest and abdomen, with a few stray missiles hitting his neck and slamming into the horse's balls, and three even hit the broad ass of the horse. The stallion grunted and whinnied, but remained standing even after 64 supersonic missiles that were designed to penetrate reinforced concrete just exploded harmlessly on the horse's fur. But those mosquito bites still stung even if they didn't bring him down, and now the stallion had to watch in stewing rage as they flew away.

The stallion roared again, this time in pent up rage. The large radar dishes of ears picked up the civilians below cheering as the jets fired at their tormenter, but a stunned hush filled the crowd below when they realized that even the most expensive and advanced war fighting equipment they had didn't even cause a scratch on the monster. The horse ran to the large gathered crowd around a bunch of vehicles, but instead of crushing them under hoof, the horse purposely stopped and a step away, and flopped down. His rear crushed through half of an office tower and a part of the crowd that was unable to escape in time, while his spread legs created insurmountable walls around the gathered populace, numbering in the hundreds at this point. Another building, which a hoof crashed into and knocked down, locked them all into a makeshift prison.

The horse grabbed masses of people, indiscriminate at who he got, and his fists clinched tight enough to end many of their lives before they even got to what the horse wanted. The survivors were not that fortunate, as the horse brought all of the people in his hands to his throbbing erection. The horse slammed both hands around his cock, resulting in even more red splotches on his fur and now his member. Grinding the last of the first batch on to his cock, the simulation of the impromptu lube making the horse's schlong pulse and flex, thick veins pumping more and more. The weight of the cock forced it down, trapping people under his enormous member, the weight and musk and pulsing, throbbing length preventing many from escaping. When one hand was empty of new people, the horse grabbed another handful, then another, turning his black and pink member into a sickly red. Clear horse precum drooled from the flat head as the horse continued to work more and more on his cock, making it slick and slippery.

The last handful he simply squished into paste, before getting up on his knees and showing off his ass. With a grunt, he shoved one hoofed finger up his tailhole. A second lubed finger quickly joined, then a third. Once the horse was sure he was stretched enough, he then grabbed another handful of people in his hands (a lot more gently this time), before just shoving them up where the sun don't shine. Dozens of males and females were shoved into his rectum, flowed by a more and more. People soaked in the blood of relatives, co-workers and neighbors weeped and howled, struggled as they were put away. But all the movement just stimulated the horse, making him grunt again, his long shaft nearly flaring.

But no, he wasn't done yet. The horse stood up, carelessly stepping on the few that he hadn't smeared on his cock or stuffed up his ass. He trudged through the increasingly taller buildings until he reached one of the more interesting ones. For the first time since this started, he smiled a lusty, predatory grin. The building was more or less a concrete and glass cylinder that came up to a rounded tip, and it only reached up to the horse's hips, the perfect size.

The horse came up and straddled the building, which the gutter-residing citizens had always called "The Dildo," and prepared to use the building as the locals had described it. One hand reached back to spread his ass cheeks, while the other braced against a larger skyscraper in front of him. Taking a deep breath, inhaling all the smoke and blood and carnage he had created, the horse forced himself down.

Had anyone survived in his rear during that walk, the concrete tip now finished them off, adding to the mess and lubricant that now allowed the stallion to shove the oddly shaped building up his ass.

The horse grunted as his ass was spread open. The building creaked and groaned, but the cold concrete surprisingly strong when considering the huge pressure that was now put upon the building. The stallion groaned and gasped, nickers and neighs escaping his lips, though they quickly descended into moans and gasps as the rough concrete played with his sensitive rear, bumping against his prostate over and over again as he lifted himself up and down, driving it in deep each time.

His free hand reached for the well-slicked cock, and began pumping it as well. The horse snorted as more and more of the building entered his ass and he continued pumping his cock. He muttered in his language, but the ragged breath, thrusts and groans was easily understood by any species.

One hoof slipped on the mess below, and the stallion was impaled on the massive structure. The stallion unleashed a glass-shattering whinny of pure pleasure, and he squeezed his cock as he finally came.

The huge shot, thousands of gallons of macro horse seed, pierced the skyscraper in front of him, then the building behind that, and the building behind that, making all three structurally unsafe in an instance. The next shot of cum destroyed the first building, and the third the building behind that. The stallion managed to get his hoof back into place, and he lifted himself up and down on the concrete toy in his rear, making cum spray everywhere, flooding a city that had already gone through so much with spunk.

When the stallion was finally finished, he lifted himself off his toy, the unadorned concrete now red from the brand of lube he had used. He stretched, pulverizing another score of buildings with his hooves. He then procedded, with fists, hooves and barely restrained anger, to level the rest of the downtown area, not leaving a single building over 10 stories tall to tower over the massive piles of rubble.

Then, as quickly as he appeared, the horse vanished.

Had this been the only case of a macro horse leveling a city, killing thousands of it's inhabitants, and pleasuring himself with it, that would have been one of the weirdest, yet oddly erotic history book entries.

But an hour after the horse first appeared, another city, this time on the other side of the world, was also visited by a similar horse: similar color, similar build, similar anger. And an hour after that, yet another horse that matched the same description pulverized another city. Then another story, and hour after that. And then again. And again. And again.

Within two days, the global economy was in shambles. In a week, the largest countries ceased to function. By the end of the month, and the destruction of the last refuge of the people of the people, the entire planet no longer had anything resembling civilized life. The people lived in fear of the stallion unable to speak their tongues, worshiping him as a god of destruction. But whenever the survivors of a city met, they would argue over details: was he 500 feet tall or 50? Was he muscular or fat? Was he even a horse all the time?

The one thing that was true, however, was the anger. He was always angry.