Title:           okay
Author:          Anonymous
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/f1gj6XHc
First Edit:      Tuesday 15th of December 2015 06:53:03 AM CDT
Last Edit:       Tuesday 15th of December 2015 06:53:03 AM CDT

 
Walking into the royal locker room, the air heats up and growing far muggier than outside. The smell ratchets up as well, its accents shifting as you leave behind the stale, but biting, air of the gym. It's a sour, body smell that stings just a bit when you inhale. The room is spacious, even for a princess, at what must be 100 feet long and not much thinner. Shower heads dot the wall opposite a small, but towering row of lockers, and you can barely see a light layer of dust on the closest one: never used, even once. A steel-and-concrete bench sits in the middle, a replacement from when Celestia split the last one in two.
 
You spot Celestia at the side of the tiled room, digging through a huge locker. As tall as she is, she's had to Her flowing prismatic hair obscures most of her form. What you can see is impressive: a shoulder whose size would dwarf a tire rippling with strength and power, a loose muscle shirt drenched and yellowed from countless sessions, a tight rump covered by tighter shorts, long heavily built legs, and a set of socks and heavy boots positively shimmering with sweat that soaked them absolutely through. Absently lifting her arm, you can see a bright forest of tangled hair, glowing all the same as her mane, but constantly leaking down her chisled side.
 
Celestia notices you, smiling serenely and turning to greet you. Her stretchy shorts are bulged tight around her groin, a long horsecock packed above a pair of heavy nuts, each easily bigger than a cantaloupe, and a soft looking cloud of pubic hair that was packed into place and aching to get loose. A steady dribble of sweat runs down the smooth, damp cloth, pattering wetly against the tile and her military grade shoes. She leans over, her ample breasts almost falling out of the tank top, and beckons you over. As you approach, the stench of her musk grows more intense, and you cough reflexively. Even as many times as you've tasted it, you might never get completely used to that skunky stink that Celestia's body exudes. Steam rises slowly from that sacred body, but especially from her bushy pits and her oversized sheath and testes. The light shines off of her overdeveloped body, and the smell of arousal and exertion fills the air around her. Your erection throbs hotly against your thigh, but you don't bother hiding your approval for her hard work.
 
Standing next to Celestia and sucking in hot gasps of her rancid odor, you can hardly believe how far she's come from the lithe form she had years ago. At your insistence, she began body building to earn a more impressive figure for her subjects to admire, and now she could be mistaken for a hulking minotaur. Eleven feet tall and almost six feet wide at the shoulder, lifting just to feel the orgasmic tension of her muscles flexing (literally, from the dribbles of cum on the machines outside), Celestia had taken to her gym perfectly. She's also gained an... appreciation for her naturally potent and acrid odors, posing for her subjects to show off her impressive gains. It had stopped being a charming quirk quickly, and now dipped deeply into a fetishistic side Celestia hadn't known she had. She'd spend all day in her gym, letting dignitaries and servants come to her rather than bothering to take a break for them. They'd walk away from their titanic princess with shaking legs and aching tents. When she did pause her workouts, she would spend much of it walking around her castle, not even bothering to towel off, and letting the staff admire her titan-esque body. After her strength, Celestia most lavished attention on her oversized loins, publicly fondling herself and adjusting her more formal dresses to emphasize the bulge of her mammoth horsecock and nuts. Her royal bathroom remained unused, only stopping in to worship her own body in the full length mirror. Even Luna couldn't keep her eyes off her sister's new physique: you'd found her once peeking into the gym, hands running over her body and quivering.
 
She takes your hand in hers, dragging you over to the bench. The squelch of her socks with every step, combined with the rank stink, makes it hard to focus on anything besides ravaging her godly body. Your height doesn't help, as you get a perfect head-level view of her tight ass swaying and her massive balls bouncing with each step. This close, you can even see the wisps of steam rising from her groin, fresh stench rising steadily. She eases herself onto the bench, smirking and getting comfortable. The metal creaks under her mass, and the dripping of her sweat redoubles.
 
Celestia stretches out, her bulging nuts pressing softly against her thighs as she spreads her legs and lifts her arms. The mix of sexual musk and exertion musk burns a little as you breath it. You can't quite stop from rubbing your own thick shaft through your shorts, and Celestia wryly grins. She adjusts her seat towards you as her massive hand passes over the damp, off color shirt. Raising an arm and refreshing the cloying body odor, her fingers work their way through her armpit's copious hair. The whole thing is just a fraction smaller than your head, and a slow trickle of clear-ish liquid comes filters through the rough bristles. You instictively climb up to her, the endearingly funky odor only getting stronger as you get closer to her tantilizing body, and heat washes over you.
 
Exposing her unshaven pits and the streams of sweat coming down from them fogs your head and you find it impossible to keep away. You jam your face into the huge forest, every hair scritching and tickling around your face as you. The stink of Celestia's sweat is thick and ripe here, and you suck in all of it that you can. She barely needs to hold you arm up, and uses the weight of her sculpted arm to hold you in place as you groan and tongue her bristly pit. Squirming from your reckless worship of her hirsuite pits, Celestia reaches down, fondling her watermelon sized orbs and feeling them fill up with spoiled jizz. Her royal horsecock pumps up to full size,  She holds you there for a long while, more than long enough for you to huff her pit's sour stench fully, reaching the bottom of your lungs and sticking to your sinuses. Each breath saturated with that aged musk seems more and more right, and you pull away only to lean over and slather her enlarged bust. Her nipples stand tall and hot, as big as the tip of her thumb.
 
Celestia pulls you off without a hint of effort.  You could still taste her body on your panting breath, her tainted flavor mingling with the stale air of the locker room. She peels off her shorts, the abused article clinging to her lewd curves as much as the dank moisture would let it. The darkened spandex lands with a wet plop behind her, and her package slaps softly against the bench. When she slips off her boots though, she's suddenly much more coy, and you know why as soon as it hits you. A sharp wave of foul reek flies up, and you're simultaniously sent reeling and aroused. The funk of weeks of steady training hangs in the air.
 
Seeing you stumble back, she shoves you into the bench, holding you there with a few fingers backed up by enough muscle to lift tons. She straddles the whole thing, dangling her nuts above you, dripping incessently onto your torso. Her hips descend, the tight, taut cumtanks brushing against your glans, the slick heat making you grunt. Carefully, slowly, she dips down. Your rigid cock sinks into her ball cleavage, aided by the copious sweat trickling from her body. Insert more descriptions about fucking her balls, maybe with her grinding them into you.
 
Then she pauses long enough for you to look up at her, and for her to slap a sweat drenched sock onto your face. The musk is incredible, not as intense as her boots but more "her", more personal and intimate a stink than leather and polyester can hold.