Soarin' gets Rumbled

Soarin' wasn't typically one to snap at at a colleague, much less a superior officer, but a particularly stressful day of exercises and an interruption of his precious little alone time in the lockers was too much.
"Who the hell is this?" he barked at the intruders. The runty little colt flinched, but stood his ground as the statuesque mare placed a firm hand on his shoulder and barked right back.
"This little guy is Rumble. He's applied to be your new relief mare and he's here for his final exam."
Soarin' shot a piercing glare down at Rumble. Fuckin' recruits just keep getting smaller, he remarked to himself. Then again, breaking the seven foot barrier will do that. Aside from Spitfire (who weighed in at an impressive 7'6") everyone was looking a bit short these days.
"He's already failed. The key to being a relief mare is, you know, being a mare."
"Odd, I would have thought the 'relief' was the important part. Look, you've burned through six mares in three days. He's got glowing reviews from the futa cadets. Just give him a chance, alright?"
"Like a recommendation from a futa means anything. Were you not there when Sunny Flare creamed herself the first time I shook her hand? Is this kid even legal?"
"As of this weekend. He's got his papers and everything. I'd also like to note that not once have you asked about a female applicant's eligibility." Spitfire took a step back in an attempt to defuse the situation.
"Obviously you're uncomfortable with this. I get it, you don't want some dude touching your dick, but the fact is you can't you can't perform at the level we need if those fucking soccerballs in your suit are making you act like this. "
A quick tap to his hefty bulge snapped him out of his funk.
"Fine. You're right. He gets his chance. I need it anyway. If he's not up to par he's gone."
"Fair enough. I'll leave you two to it."
 "Ugh, I really don't see how you could be any good. My dick's fucking bigger than you are."
Rumble lit up at that.
"You're really five feet long!?"
"What? No, it's a figure of speech. Help me out of this suit, I want to get this over with."
With a bubbly "Yes Sir!" Rumble climbed up on the bench and grabbed the zipper.

"Well, kid? Are you just going to stare at it all night or are you going to get to it?"
Rumble was practically drooling. Normally, Soarin' loved seeing the reactions he got from first timers, but he was long since out of patience.
"You're… it's so big!"
"Obviously. Don't you know how it works? When you're the best, you become the biggest. I'm the top flyer and I've got the package to prove it. Spitfire may have rank, but she doesn't have the skills in the skies or anything that can compare to this."
Soarin' shifted on the bench, causing his bulging balls to slide off and dangle freely. Still soft, his fat shaft drooped lazily over his sack.
"Looks, don't feel bad about biting off more than you can chew. You've got ambition, and I'm sure you'll make some lesser stallions very happy. Hell, you've got the right attitude, why don't you try out for cheer squad instead? You've got the build for it if you don't mind playing a mare."
Soarin' almost felt bad about that last remark, the poor colt was already blushing tomato red. It was true though, slender, lithe but hips most mares would kill for. Put him in a skirt and stuff his bra and the crowd wouldn't know the difference.
Soarin' cut that line of thought, but the damage was done. Blood was flowing, flesh was swelling and Rumble found the inspiration he needed. Unable to form a proper response to the challenge, Rumble elected to dive in head first. Once snugly nestled between the pair of testes (each easily larger than his head) Rumble found himself reaching to fondle and stimulate the massive globes.
Curiosity satisfied, he fell back, but not before taking a deep breath of Soarin's dank, intoxicating musk.
Soarin' couldn't help but laugh at the sight.
"Well, you got me hard. You up to finish the job?"
Finding his confidence, Rumble hopped up to his feet. In one smooth motion, he stripped to his boxers and hopped on to the officer's lap.
With a "Yes sir!" he straddled the yard of flesh and got to work.

Soarin' had to admit the kid had talent. A unique approach, relentless enthusiasm, a way with his hands that you just couldn't find on the average mare. It wasn't every day you had a scrawny little runt in your lap working your dick like it was his. But that wasn't enough. "Alright, alright. I don't have -ugh- all day here. Enough with the teasing already."
Rumble was heartbroken. He had been giving it his all, but it wasn't good enough. Soarin' was too big to suck (and Rumble had sucked some big fucking dicks), too thick to jerk, and too long to properly edge. There was just too much dick for him to handle. With the last of his reserves, he threw himself onto the cock and wrapped around it in a bear hug.
That's when he started rumbling.
In a flash, he could feel the tool throb and swell in his embrace. He had done it. He had finally won. With renewed vigor, he rumbled harder. He didn't dare open his eyes, but he could hear the splatter against the ceiling and new it would only be a moment before he found himself coated. It wasn't until Soarin' (heavily panting) put a firm hand on the living vibrator's shoulder that he finally relaxed and laid back. The two took a moment to breathe, Soarin's heavy python draped lazily on top of Rumble. Finally, Soarin' broke the silence.
"Okay, that was pretty good. If you can do that two or three more times I guess you're hired."
Rumble was pretty sure he could.