This is a commission that I managed to get from the talented  lulustrations a little while ago. It was so easy to get this commission started, and she was wonderfully accommodating. I tried to give as much creative freedom to her as she needed, and once again, I'm rewarded with another wonderful interpretation of my fursona. If you're not already watching her, you should probably take a little trip over. She's still getting herself established here, so why not say hi.

If you want to think of this as a younger version of Chester, that's fine. I'm not really all that concerned about his age. As far as I'm concerned, Chet is always curious about how strong he is. He's always looking to "play" with heavy things. If he's discovered accidentally, however, then he gets rather shy.

This pic inspired me to put together a little back story for the scene. I just wanted to describe it. Hopefully my words do the picture justice. Enjoy

*nuzzles*

Je t'armor


The late spring sunshine was rising higher in the sky as it crept towards the noon hour. The scrap yard was full of metal scrap, vehicles of all sorts and sizes in all manner of disrepair. Crows cawed in the distance which only added to the ambience of the squeaky metal gate as Chet swung it slowly open and stepped into the yard. He turned slowly around and closed the gate casually. He looked over his broad shoulder before the gate properly shut. He was so excited about his test for the day. There was a new addition to the scrap yard -- a Sherman tank.

It stood in the middle of the yard, in a clearing. The sun shone down on it almost like a spotlight. The stallion chuckled slightly. He swore he could have heard an angelic tone echo around the yard, playing up the importance of the tank sitting front and center. It had seen battle hundreds of times in its day, and now was just a derelict. Its technology had been upgraded as much as it could be. Now it was plainly obsolete. The army gladly donated it, along with a few others. Chet swished his long tail playfully as he strode slowly over to the tank. Even though it had been through hundreds of battles, it showed hardly any scars. There were a couple of very small dents and scratches here and there, but nothing of note or consequence. It had taken great care of its occupants during its years of service.

“I can’t believe I get to play with a tank! This is awesome. First some trains and now a full-blown tank. Wonder how much this thing weighs. It’s gotta be more than the train. It’s not quite as big, but this beast is solid.” The excitement in the stallion’s voice was clear. He was like a colt with a new toy. This toy, however, just happened to be a 35-tonne military tank.

He hurrrrrrr hurrrrrrrred softly and deeply as he leaned in against the sun-warmed hulk of metal. He reached up to the side corner and placed his hand on the edge. Slowly, the muscles of his forearm bulged to life and writhed with cabled definition and thick veins. The grin spread on his muzzle as he felt the building strength in that hand. At the corner edge, his fingers gripped harder and then a soft crumpling sound filled his sensitive ears. He watched as his hand slowly crushed the corner edge inward. Battle-tested armor crumpled under the young stallion’s phenomenal strength.

“Ohhhhhhh, this is awesome! It feels great. This is gonna be an amazing test. I … I gotta see what my strength can do.”

With a playful snort, the eager stallion ruffled his mane and moved around to the other side. He cocked his right fist back and unleashed a massive punch to the side of the tank. A loud thud echoed around the large scrap yard. The tank itself actually lurched back and tilted off the ground before it fell back on both treads. Chet’s ears perked as he realized what just happened.

“Cripes, a punch like that actually toppled the train right over. Yet, it just barely shifted the tank. Oh baby, this thing weighs a lot more than the train. Awesome!”

Again, the young inquisitive stallion reared back and cocked his mighty fist, unleashing a titanic jab that now lifted the entire tank right off the ground and forced it sideways a few feet. The dent it caused was deeper than Chet’s whole fist. But still, he hadn’t broken the armor skin.

Walking around to the other side where he first approached the tank, he reached up and gripped the armor hull with his fingers. Pressing in against the solid metal armor, his fingers curled. Chet grinned as he felt the metal crumple under those fingers. They dug into the metal. Now that he had a solid finger-hold, the mighty stallion flexed his biceps and squeezed hard. He started to tear a hole in to the metal armor, peeling it back slowly as he nickered softly. His ears once again perked straight up taking in that sweet sound of muscle defeating solid metal.

Next, the playful stud turned to the massive gun turret. He stepped to the front of the turret and looked up at the wide opening. He grinned again and reached both hands up to the turret opening, slipping his fingers into the inside of the turret hole. With a soft grunt, every muscle on the stallion’s massive back flexed and bulged. The muscles spread wider as his tail lightly swished side to side. His expressive ears pinned back as he grew more and more determined with his tremendous strength. With yet another grunt and some curling of his powerful fingers, the metal of the turret opening began to change colour. The dark green lightened slowly. The metal stretched under the stallion’s powerful grip. A soft snort followed by yet another grunt edged the mighty horse on. He looked at the turret and his eyes widened. The metal was literally ripping apart. He let out a triumphant whinny and then grunted harder, tearing the solid iron further apart. With a youthful squeal and a few tosses of his long mane, Chet’s arms spread wider. The muscles of his arms pumped with vascularity and thick mass as they now ripped the solid iron turret in half, halfway along the length of the gun. Eagerly, the young stallion gripped one of the torn halves and flexed both his chest and those massive arms. Almost instantly, the metal warped and ripped apart. Yet again, the young stallion gripped the other half and ripped it down so that he literally peeled the turret like a banana skin. Four inches of thick solid iron, ripped apart by this young stallion who was still discovering his strength.

After the effort of ripping the turret apart, Chet’s muscles were now pumped very thick and shredded. He looked at the dents he’d already caused and nodded slowly to himself.

“Now it’s time to get serious. Time to see what kind of strength I really have.”

Stepping around to the side of the tank where he’s ripped a hole in the armor skin, Chet stood just aft of the middle of the tank’s massive hull. He knew the engine was located in the back of the tank, and it was still on board under the skin. His breathing had quickened while he was tearing the gun turret apart, a combination of pure excitement and the effort of literally ripping 4 inches of solid iron apart. Now, his breathing was coming back under control. He took a few long slow deep breaths as he began to psyche himself up for the real tests.

Placing both of his hands under the mechanics of the top tread, Chet slowly took a secure grip. He looked down at his arms extended straight out. The pumped muscles of his biceps already bulged out thick with pulsing veins and striations clearly etched into the solid mass on both arms. He gripped harder and then let out a deep grunt as those mighty muscles began to flex. The lines of striations etched deeper, harder, more clearly visible as the veins pulsed thicker and stretched the already tight skin even tighter. The biceps on both arms bulged up mightily as the stallion searched deep inside for that seemingly unending spring of brutal strength he had. He snorted with a determined grunt then as the muscles continued to shred and thicken. Finally, a metallic groan filled the stallion’s ears. He looked down to the ground and saw that the lower tread was picking up some dirt as he was lifting the entire side of the tank off the ground. He gave another deep grunt and seemed to flex even harder, lifting the tank a foot, then another foot higher, tilting it up to turn it on its side. The stallion’s massive, shredded biceps flexed into an astonishing peak of solid muscle harder than the iron of the tank, lifting the side of it up to his own chest. Then, quickly sliding his hands under so he was pushing the weight, the tonnage switched over to those thick massive triceps. They responded instantly, forming chiseled and deeply etched granite mounds that bulged out thicker as he pushed the weight slowly higher until it tipped completely on to its side. The stallion stepped back and breathed in some quick shallow breaths until finally he was able to breathe normally again. The soft grin once again creased his thick lips. The tank wobbled slightly on its side, almost as if it was terrified of what more this stallion could do.

The patient stallion slowly walked around to the other side of the tipped tank, and gave a soft playful nicker to himself as he stepped up closer. He placed both of his mighty hands on either ends of the hatch pod and gripped firmly. Almost instantly the metal of the hatch pod crumpled a little bit under the now massively strong fingers that had been manhandling the solid iron of the old tank for half an hour. Now that he’d taken a strong grip on the hulk of a tank, the stallion shifted his hooves and bent down, angling his body and then gave a deep determined grunt followed by a loud snort for punctuation. He muscled the entire weight of the tank slowly up in a most awkward fashion. He wasn’t lifting efficiently. He was lifting in a way that showed his muscle could power up this weight, and more. Every muscle on his upper and lower body was now flexing hard. The definition and detail everywhere was astounding. A large looming shadow then shaded the muscled valleys, highlighting the definition even more now as the tank rose and angled upside down over the stallion’s head. His breathing was growing faster. His nostrils flared as he realized that he was holding that massive tonnage overhead steadily. His arms weren’t shaking.

“I … I did it! Lifted an entire tank over my head. I feel even stronger than ever before too.” With that statement, the stallion gave a frisky playful grin as he looked up at the tank above him. He flexed his hands tighter and crumpled the metal into an even firmer hold. Then he started to flex those massive biceps. They started to bulge thick and split into clearly shredded heads of muscle and veins. For several minutes, nothing happened except for a deep grunt or snort from the mighty stallion. Then a deeper squeal and groan erupted from the hatch pod. The sides of the pod were twisting and crumpling. The stallion was literally crushing the hatch pod with his bare hands, while holding the massive weight overhead. He let out a triumphant whinny as he felt the metal give to his strength. The hatch lid started to bend and warp under the pressure as well. After several minutes of steady crushing power, the tank’s hatch pod was mangled beyond recognition. The stallion’s biceps were now peaked into craggy displays of muscle that rivaled the armor of the tank. Still holding the tonnage overhead, Chet nickered softly and pressed the massive weight up slowly, flexing those triceps out fully and feeling the strength just surge through his body. He lowered it slowly and then pressed it back up under complete control. His ears swiveled as he thought he heard something nearby. Quickly, he put the tank back down with as soft a thud as he could, tilting it back onto its treads once again.

The pumped stallion looked over to the gate and realized that it hadn’t shut properly from when he came in at the beginning of the session. He walked over to the gate and swung it open. His eyes shot open wide as he saw … you.