Happy, Hungry, Manticores
Roars reverberated around the clearing as the two beasts circled, eyeing each other up as possible mates. The bigger female took a swipe at the male, testing his conviction, and she bared her fangs. The male accepted the hit with barely a blink, ignoring the slash appearing in his side, as he knew that to show weakness would be to become the female’s dinner as opposed to the father of their cubs.
Seeing that he did not flinch away, the large beast appraised his looks, after having ascertained his mettle; she wanted their cubs to be at least as beautiful as she considered herself. Finding nothing to be at fault other than the rent in his side caused by her own action a few moments ago and pleasantly surprised to see that his member was large enough to pleasure her immensely, she snorted and turned away from him, presenting her needy vulva to him as she did.
The male wasted no time, knowing that he had to both be long enough that she would harbor no ill feelings towards him, but quick enough that she didn't get bored. He gave the wet folds a few licks to make sure it was wet enough for him to enter easily and then swatted her tail aside to jumped up and mount her.
His member swung beneath them, already fully erect and throbbing, eagerly anticipating it’s imminent burial. In his haste, the manticore began to thrust before lining himself up and instead of sliding inside her; he merely jabbed at her ass. The mounted female growled in annoyance and the male quickly righted his mistake by dragging his hips to the side, dragging the head of his phallus to her entrance before roaring and thrusting fully into her wet entrance in one thrust.
The two began to rut quickly, their roars muted by the surrounding foliage.
* * *
A trio of determined eyes stared down the Everfree. These three fillies were going, prepared for anything and nothing would stop them. It was with the single step of a yellow hoof that set them off, and soon all three were thundering to the shadowy cover of the forbidden forest. The dark branches did nothing to slow their progress and it was only as the light of Celestia’s sun was completely swallowed up did all three crusaders slow to a walk.
“Apple Bloom, you sure you know that way?” The nervous voice whispered, one that Apple Bloom could tell was Sweetie Belle without even turning to look at the unicorn filly by her side.
“Oh course Ah know the way! I’ve gone and visited Zecora more times than I can count on my hooves!”
The white unicorn filly looked to her friend in shock and squeaked out “That’s only two times, four at the possible most!”
Scootaloo nudged Sweetie Belle from behind and tacked on “Except if you’re Pinkie Pie.”
A bush rustled off to the side. It would have been fine for two of them, but when Sweetie Belle shrieked and ran, it caused both of the other two filly’s terror to mount and wash over them “It’s a cockatrice!”
It was not a cockatrice, it was a bunny, but by the time it came out from the confines of the leafy bush, all three had fled off into the forest, leaving a confused critter in their wake. He took one look at the three small sets of hoof prints leading into the darker parts of the forest and immediately took off.
The trio fled in the direction that Sweetie Belle led them, which was in the scheme of things, a very bad direction for her to choose and them to follow. Through dark, foreboding trees and over large boulders they ran on and on until Sweetie Belle finally ran out of breath from her sprint and continuous scream.
Once she finished panting she looked up hopefully towards her two friends, one of whom barely looked winded and the other’s chest was only moving a little “Do you think we got away?”
Applebloom looked behind them and then around cautiously “Ah think so, but I’m not so sure that was a cockatrice.”
“Oh, so now you claim to know how to tell a cockatrice from everything else!” Scootaloo squinted at her friend.
Applebloom missed her friends pointed stare completely and just began to pace around the small patch of rocky ground they were resting on, surrounded on all sides by the Everfree “Nah, the bush was just too small.”
Sweetie perked at an idea “What if it was a baby cockatrice!” she squeed and hugged the imaginary serpent in her hooves “Fluttershy told us that they could only paralyze so they were mostly safe!”
Applebloom gave her a flat stare “Fluttershy also said they always hang out with their mommas, so don’t try to mess with them.”
“How about we try out… cutie mark crusader cockatrice tamers!” Scootaloo set her wings buzzing, excited by the prospect “That would be such an awesome cutiemark!”
Applebloom looked between the two, one squeeing unicorn and one buzzing pegasus. “Don’t ya’ll remember the last time we met one o’ them? And where in the hay are we…”
Both of the other fillies stopped their activities, sobered by the yellow filly’s statements, and started looking around. Scootaloo looked up to try to find the sun, but couldn’t find it through the thick foliage above them.
“I think I’ll be able to tell which way to town at least if I can see the sun, but id need to get up there first.” the trees stood, tall and proud, baring their menacing branches and grotesque bark formations at the crusaders.
“Well could you boost yourself up there if Applebloom and I made a platform and you used your wings for some extra thrust?” Sweetie offered
Scootaloo sized the two of them up and then the smallest nearby tree “definitely,” she stood proud “there’s no way I’m scared of a tree like that!” she ended it with some nervous laughter, ending the effect.
“Nopony said you were, now come over here and get up.” Applebloom dragged her unicorn friend and they stood astride each other, acting as a step in front of the tree. “you ready Scoots?”
“Yup,” she pawed the ground and lined herself up, “I’m coming!” she ran forward, heedless of Applebloom’s blush and with one leap of their backs, and the rapid buzzing of her wings, she made the middle set of branches fairly easily.
“Just gimme a sec, I’ll be down soon.” She clambered up the branches, making her way up into the foliage and her orange coat being obscured by the canopy.
“How late did we set out again?” Sweetie Belle’s question caught Applebloom off guard and she sputtered a moment.
“Umm, early evenin’ if Ah remember correctly,” she raised her hoof to her chin, “but Ah might be a little off, Ah can't really remember.”
“Hmm, and how long have we been out?” sweetie looked up into the canopy, expecting her friend any second.
“The run was a lil jostled, but Ah reckon no more than an hour or two.” As she finished her sentence, she served the master function as a pillow for the crashing pegasus.
“Hey Scootaloo.” Sweetie giggled “why didn’t you say anything before dropping in like that?”
The orange filly leaned up and rubbed her head with her hooves “ohhh, my head… the fall wasn’t as bad as I thought though, I thought there were roc-,” she looked down at her wheezing yellow seat, “oh, hey Applebloom.”
“Yer crushin’ me, get off!” Applebloom pushed off from the ground and smirked when she looked over to see her attacker on her face in the dirt.
Scootaloo jerked her head up, whipping her tongue to get the dirt off and she glared at her friend. “I didn’t mean to,” she just spat out the last chunk of dirt, “also, I’m afraid there was no sun to check directions on… it looks like it’s nearing midnight.”
“What!?” both of the other fillies screamed.
Applebloom continued, “we can't have been gone that long, we left early afternoon!”
“Doesn’t change facts, but thanks to my awesomeness, I know how to read the moon so the town should be that way.” She pointed a hoof in a seemingly random direction.
“You sure Scoots?”
“Yup, I got my training from Rainbow Dash herself, I can't be wrong!” Scootaloo posed her second proud pose of the day, no doubt because of her teacher.
Sweetie Belle had meanwhile sunk to the ground with a pout “My parents and sis are going to kill me.”
“All our parent’s are going to kill us, now lets hurry home before something else does.” And with Applebloom’s last ominous note, they all set off in the direction Scootaloo had pointed previously. Their direction was towards town, by some manner of luck, but not exactly, and led them off a bit to the side.
* * *
They walked for about an hour before anything caught notice of them. They were fortuitous to not meet anything before then, but meeting anything in the Everfree, especially at night, is never a good thing. The thing, things that caught notice of them however, were the second worst creatures to have notice you, dragons being the first.
They were two recently coupled manticores, fresh from the finish, and readying for their second bout when they heard the disturbance. The three fillies had only just gotten close, and by some untold level of bad luck, had come within hearing distance not when they could have heard the roars of pleasure and when the beasts wouldn’t have even bothered with them, but during the first rest.
When manticores mated, they made sure they did so thoroughly as long as the female was satisfied. This typically involved up to five bouts of rough, violent sex, during which they both battled for dominance while the male filled her belly with his seed till she looked already in her late months of pregnancy, special knots and airtight walls of inner flesh allowing her to retain all the seed and not leak a single drop.
If the trio had happened upon the couple at the third or fourth rest, both would have ignored them; most likely the same with the second. But the three fillies happened to come at the worst possible time. The female was still fully mobile, and both were hungry from their activity, while still knowing they needed more energy for the rest. They also had enough energy to still hunt at this point.
Some deranged ponies might kill to witness the spectacle. A male and female manticore working together to hunt, it was unheard of, and if they utilized his potent paralysis poison, in combination with her brute strength, they might even be able to take on one of the massive scaled beasts that sometimes holed up in the caves nearby. The three fillies never stood a chance.
“Hey, Scootaloo, are you sure we’re going in the right direction?” Sweetie Belle spoke up from the middle of the group’s line, the filly in question being up in front of her and strutting along like she owned the place.
“I’m sure, it can't be too far now, right?” she glanced around nervously, their long time in the dark forest making all three jumpier than they had been at any time before in the forest; jumpy enough to stop trying to spook one another, and start to huddle closer and closer.
Unbeknownst to them, the two predators swiftly approached, reaching them just as Scootaloo finished her statement, and arranging their attack between themselves with their intelligent eyes doing all the talking. They moved themselves around, silently and unseen by the crusaders, the female positioning herself at the front, and the male at the back.
Three full-grown ponies shouldn’t be a problem, but one smelled of the farm mare, a dangerous one her, and another had a horn, you could never be too cautious with those.
“Ah would’a thought we would have crossed some of Zecora’s paths by now if this was the right way, Scoots.” Applebloom spoke in not a condescending tone, but one of worry and concern.
“Rainbow Dash wouldn’t have lead me wrong, I’m sure this is the way.” Her tone was slightly nervous, but it never wavered as she spoke up for her hero and did so, not letting the situation bring that down.
They sprung, the male swiftly impaling Applebloom’s hindquarters with his stinger and injecting her with venom, paralyzing her nearly instantaneously. Up front, the other fillies didn’t even have time to squeak, or they shouldn’t have, but apparently the female liked to play with her food and when she pounced, she pounced languidly and her outstretched paws only fully caught the unicorn, snapping of her horn with one paw.
Without thinking, Scootaloo had run, to the side and some distance before she heard her friend’s ear-shattering scream, followed by a gurgle, then silence. She turned around and found herself unable to move her legs anymore forward, paralyzed not by poison, but by fear for her friend.
“Hold on Sweetie Belle!” she didn’t even consider the other possibility and just sprinted headlong back toward her trapped friends, only to be stopped by a striped hoof placed in front of her chest.
“Shh my dear, your friends may know great pain, shed not a tear, I will make sure they are no more than lame.” Scootaloo teared up when she saw the grimacing zebra herbalist next to her. She had thought they were going to die, but if Zecora was here, she would protect them, she would save them.
The smile was swiftly wiped away when as soon as she had appeared, she was gone, but this time a large, bloody claw was where she had been, and the crumpled form of Zecora could be seen twenty yards away, crumpled at the base of a tree and blood slowly pooling out. It, Zecora’s body, was shattered, and no longer looked like a pony, her black and white stripes having a red mixed with them and her body bent out of shape from the two impacts.
“Z… Z… Zecora?!” the filly shrieked and tried to run to the herbalist, but was pinned beneath the great paw of a manticore. Then everything went black for her and she slowly choked on the pad of the beast’s other great paw.
With the deed done and two unconscious fillies, one paralyzed one, and one corpse of the annoying Zebra mare on their backs, they made their way back to their breeding ground, having been even more fortunate than they had originally anticipated.
When they returned, they were eager to resume their lustful activities, dumping down the meat and this time, playfully batting at one another, both pleased with their catch. After a moment the male went over to a nearby stream and picked a few flowers with his paw and brought them back over. The female knew what they were for, and she salivated in anticipation.
Manticores were not dumb creatures; they had nearly the intelligence of a pony, but lacked that basic morality and linguistic capability to form any kind of community. They knew the local plant life, they knew what certain flowers did, and that this one would suit them perfectly, both as an antidote for his poison, and as a revival herb for the unconscious.
The morality they didn’t have, mixed with their intelligence and predatory nature often left their prey wishing they had been killed beforehand, not spared a few moments and suffer in the paws of their tortuous and deadly games. And what was worse, they were not alone, this duo was mating and probably prone to more lustful games; though on the good side they might be impatient and end their suffering soon.
The male, in a very un-manticore-like fashion, bowed slightly before his mate and offered her the choice of her first meal. She would probably be getting most to all as the larger of the two, and soon to be pregnant, but he might get a filly or half the zebra if he was nice.
The larger beast sniffed the air and pointed to the little orange one, already thinking of continuing from where they would have been had they not been interrupted.
The patch of white flowers were brought to her nose and upon her next inhale, the filly slowly opened her eyes. A petal was sucked down and she shook her head, sneezing into the flowers, blowing off some of their remaining petals and revealing the paw beneath. It took her another moment to register what it meant, and when it all clicked back into place her eyes widened as the paw’s significance became apparent in her mind “N… n… no!” her orange coat took a pale tint and she screamed, bolting away at speeds she had thought she was incapable of.
Straight into the scorpion tail of the female. Her downed forehead bumped off the hard chitinous material and she was sent back a foot to her rump, dizzy, before trying again. This time she tried to jump over. She made it. Thinking of nothing else she sprinted away, hopping over logs and under branches as she made her way to what she hoped was town. She was stopped short once again by another blood-curdling scream; she slowly turned and scrunched her eyes. It was Sweetie Belle again, and she couldn’t leave her friends, she had to save them herself, there was no time to go get someone, and what would her idol say, the element of loyalty, if she abandoned her friends in a time of need?
She sprinted back, only to find neither manticore had moved. Scootaloo barreled on anyway, jumping over the supposedly shocked female’s tail and grabbing her friends. Then she sprinted back and jumped, only to fall flat on her face when their weight pulled her down and stopped her from making it back over the thick scorpion tail.
She heard laughing, monstrous and purely evil laughing and she faced a dilemma; make it away with one of them and leave, or stay with both to comfort them in their final moments. She made her choice, but no sooner than her face hardened with resolve, she was suddenly and violently yanked up by her tail. She flailed wildly and kicked at the paw holding her and the female manticore it was connected to. It grinned, baring all of its sharp, dagger-like teeth to the filly and then dropped her; she fell, thudding into the ground with her head.
While the filly was disoriented, the manticore batted her to her mate. It was a soft bat, but to the filly it felt like being plowed into by Big Mac and she couldn’t make any more sound than a wheeze from the amount of air forced from her lungs. The male caught her and threw her back, using both paws and bending her wings so they wouldn’t interfere with the flight.
The female however was already bored and Scootaloo tumbled though the air for less than a second before thudding into a tree at the edge of the clearing and tumbling down to the ground. The one who had failed to catch her walked up and grabbed Scootaloo’s tail in her teeth and threw her back to the center of the clearing, watching with amusement while Scootaloo landed on her face again and her back bending at an angle that had to be rather painful.
Then her tormentor slowly walked back up to the dazed filly and grabbed her tail, yanking it up and to the side while pressing the crusader’s face into the ground slightly more. The action did straighten her bending spine, but when the manticore placed her other paw on the exposed and upturned rump; it did not take long before the filly noticed.
Scootaloo felt a funny furry feeling covering her flank, not entirely unwelcome with its soft touch. But the touch changed, and Scootaloo started to thrash madly when she felt something smooth and pointed enter her virgin tunnel. The hard spike slowly slid inside, catching her walls and slicing them inside.
Soon enough it shredded her hymen like it wasn’t even there before heading on and cutting her up further inside. At one point it slipped too far to the side and buried itself in the warm flesh of the filly’s cunt. The manticore withdrew its claw and muffled the filly’s scream with dirt, then readjusted her claw and plunged further. She pierced through Scootaloo’s cervix a moment later, the point slicing into her most inner wall with ease and burying itself in her now permanently scarred womb. Scootaloo screamed and tried to fight it even as her mouth filled with dirt and the foreign object rested, impaled inside of her.
Her screams only increased when she felt it tear even more and cut her deepest area from raising itself, taking her with it on its angle upwards. She stopped screaming for a moment, long enough to through up, and then continued screaming till she was horse. She pushed through though, and managed even more when, finally upright, her inner walls were further penetrated by the hard claw that was extended from the tip of the great beast’s paw.
Blood was streaming down the claw at this point, enough to pool in the palm of the huntress. Seeing the innocent blood spill down and fill in her palm filled her with primal desire and she purred, lapping it all up, enjoying the filly’s pain and terror. Her tongue slithered over and under, bringing every drop of juice and blood that streamed down, eventually bringing her tongue higher and lapping around the base of her buried claw and encircling it, lapping all around and collecting the continuously streaming blood.
There was an audible rise in the pitch of Scootaloo’s scream a moment later when her own weight caused the claw to pierce her upper womb wall, sliding into the hot bloody flesh and organs above. With the manticore’s tongue wrapped around her claw, it was consumed by the falling filly and her purring intensified. When she felt the soft, rapid beating of a heart against her claw tip, mixed with the sudden rush of too much blood for her to handle with only her tongue, she closed her eyes, and slowly, she pressed further.
The hammering heart resisted for a little while against the rising pressure, but it was too young and was not strong enough to compete with its assaulter and so gave in, it’s pattering breaking apart and ending in a few broken squelches when the tip of the claw pierced its side. With the last few pumps, life flooded from the filly’s eyes at the same rate that her blood filled the monster’s paw.
With little entertainment left to be had, the manticore pulled her tongue from its place. She then raised her paw, letting the pooled blood rain into her mouth and she swallowed it messily, large quantities dribbling down the sides of her mouth. Then she lowered her claw close to her face and she trailed her tongue over the corpse that sat atop her finger and in one bite, bit off half of Scootaloo’s body. The teeth of the beast shredded through muscle and bone alike and tearing the top half of her torso from the rest, leaving the bottom half of the filly sitting limply impaled on her claw, weakly spurting blood and her meat still twitching even after her untimely demise; it ended in the beast’s stomach after she swallowed and took it in another bite.
With her finished, the female could see that her mate’s loins were stirring again, his great spiny member emerging from its sheath slowly to prod at his stomach and she could feel her own lips begging for attention. Her purring never stopped as she raised her sat rump from the forest floor and slowly turned, beckoning for him to come and continue their fun with her tail while positioning herself over her target.
Before he could fully mount her, she made sure to rouse the white filly and gaze at her, planning a mid-fuck meal, while her mate hopped on her back, prodding around her rear a moment before hitting his goal and ramming forward. She mewled, her sensitive nether lips having already been pounded once and his member reaching deep inside of her, stretching her insides and poking all around with its spikes. She could already feel his pointed tip readying itself to penetrate her inner wall, spread it wide, and then fill her with another of his rounds.
During that, the little white filly opened her eyes to the flower and immediately winced. She slammed her hooves up to her snapped horn in less than half a second and she started nursing her head. Her peace was interrupted however, by a loud roar and by a large drop of liquid love splating down onto her muzzle. She looked up from her sticky nose and her young mind nearly broke.
Above her were the furiously mating pair of manticores, and merely inches above her head was their coupling. She could see the giant slit, much larger than her own when she had explored, spread apart repeatedly by the thrusting male’s member, its swollen lips greedily swallowing up the hot throbbing phallus as its red, glistening length looked like it was trying to escape but she kept sucking him back in. Sweetie Belle would have thrown up, but her throat was suddenly caught off guard and all she could do was cough violently when a large dollop of spunk dripped down into her agape, horrified mouth.
Hearing her cough, the female backed up and the male, hardly concerned with anything other than unloading his seed inside, didn’t care. Sweetie Belle had actually had a chance to escape if she had wanted, but in her terror and bad luck, her cough had reminded the nearly brain-dead manticore of her mid-fuck meal.
Not knowing this however, the filly merely sat there, shivering on the ground and trying to scream when the huntress’s mouth opened and her tongue slowly lolled out, catching the filly’s leg in a vice grip and slowly starting to drag her forward, towards the dark, bloody confines of her mouth.
That was when the filly started to struggle, already caught, she flailed madly while the pleasured manticore did nothing but slowly drag her closer and closer, Sweetie’s struggles being of little consequence to her. She pulled with her tongue, already salivating while her purr caught in her throat every time her partner thrust. Sweetie Belle tried to catch hold of a root that was nearby, but it was wrenched from her hooves by the strength of the tongue, she tried hitting it but it dodged with ease, and when she tried to halt her progress by planting her hooves down, it didn’t work much better.
When the white filly’s hoof passed inside the saliva covered depths, one sight made Sweetie stop struggling and just start bawling her eyes out. A torn piece of orange fur was dangling from between two of her captor’s teeth, and she barely noticed when her whole lower half slipped inside the thrumming mouth.
That was until she felt the tongue release her hoof and she was free! Or she was, until the manticore’s lips gently descended around her upper body, keeping the teeth out of the way, but trapping her in place while the tongue started to lick her all over.
Sweetie squealed, and begged, and beat at her captor, and tried everything else, but it was no use, she was tasted, the tongue exploring her whole lower body and covering her in saliva. She was violated in every hole and her begging rose when she felt the probing tongue tasting deep inside her and barging through every natural wall, heedless of the pain it caused.
She felt it when, first her ass was explored, the tongue pressing forward and using it’s long thin length to lick around inside, tasting what Sweetie had eaten earlier and taking it as part of her flavor. After that, it slowly withdrew from the tight tail hole and Sweetie suffered from an inexplicable moan that caused her cheeks to flush despite the situation.
Then the tongue slid down and rammed through Sweetie’s cherry, tasting at the blood and virgin juice of her prey and only being further spurred on by it. Slowly, the tongue withdrew and then began its work once again, pulling the filly further inside, it did its job up until the filly’s hind hoofs slid down into the tight warm grasp of the manticore’s throat.
That was when the female started to swallow, and a slow process became a fast one. With the first gulp, Sweetie’s head quickly slipped inside the creature’s mouth and she soon found out that there was another hole that could be violated by the probing tongue. The slimy appendage entered and tasted her mouth, forcing its way through her lips and swiftly prying her teeth apart to get inside and slide all the way down to her belly.
Once there, it started to push the choking filly father downwards, aiding her on her way to the manticore’s own stomach. It pushed her father and father, withdrawing and slamming back down in her gullet to push her faster and help her throat swallow the large snack whole.
Sweetie was choking; most of her oxygen gone and her remaining free hooves not doing much more than pat at the muscle she rested on. Half of her body was already being constricted and sucked down the tight throat of the manticore and she had lost feeling in her hindquarters long ago.
She slid further and further, the thrusting tongue rubbing her throat raw and she could feel the muscles of the manticore’s own dragging her down into the deadly depths. She felt the tongue withdraw a final time and she managed to gulp in a large painful breath of rancid air before her head was engulfed and drawn down into the path to her death.
It was with a small plop and a shiver a short time later that she found herself inside the pitch-black, suffocatingly acidic stomach of the female manticore. She brushed up against some solid lumps, but couldn’t tell what they were without light, and didn’t want to.
She could feel her hooves already melting away, along with some of her pristine white coat where some drops had fallen and smeared during her final tumble. She cried. She cried and pounded at the walls encasing her, trying to dig out, but her hooves already to soft to do anything, and her teeth not faring much better. She could even feel her throat and eyes starting to melt away. She closed her eyes, but each labored breath brought more and more foul acid down her esophagus and into her lungs, burning away most of what was there.
She was driven mad in the short time before her death from the encasing beat of a heart, its constant pounding leaking in all around like the fumes and liquid, it surrounded her and only helped to remind her of her fate, and the constant prodding she felt at her side. She died feeling it slam in its final time, latching on and spreading its victim wide before pumping its vast contents inside, filling the manticore Sweetie now resided in and lessening the space she had to herself inside the now roiling stomach, and drowning her in acid.
Outside, the paralyzed Applebloom had to watch all of it, the devouring of both of the best friends in her entire life, the corpse of her medicinal teacher lying a few feet away. If she could have cried she would have, but all she could do was watch, think, and process. The last bit was where she was struggling. All she could think was that her sister would come to save them, she always did, Scootaloo was just doing a magic trick, and Sweetie Belle was just waiting inside for everypony to let her out.
She still would have cried. And her eyes filled with even more horror when she witnessed them complete their second act, his member trusting obscenely far inside and his scrotum twitching and contracting as it pumped what had to be half a gallon of seed inside the belly of the beast that had eaten Sweetie Belle, the bulging gut swelling and the faint outline of her friend’s struggles stopping.
She just didn’t have enough room; she was still alive, right? Both beasts withdrew from each other and Applebloom could see a thin strand of cream connected them before breaking and his softening member retreating into its sheath to refill.
Terror, pure and simple was what coursed through her when instead of slumping over like the female; the male instead picked up another flower and walked over. He didn’t hold it to her nose like the others and instead opted to shove the whole flower in her mouth and close it. He held it closed till she swallowed.
The effect was immediate after that and all of her bodily movement returned to her in an instant. She instinctively kicked out at the creature, but all he did was catch and break her knee; she screamed in pain and he picked her up callously in one paw.
Why was she fighting? It was all going to be all right, her bone wasn’t really broken; it wasn’t really jutting from her skin while the flesh was mangled and torn and her blood seeped out around it, dying her coat red. But why try to fight against the dream and have some imaginary pain, it was better to go along with it; there was less pain that way.
So she let him handle her now limp form, spreading her thighs and sniffing at her most private areas. She let him extend his tongue and penetrating her. It didn’t hurt that much, this was all a dream.
He lapped at her inner blood and juice, sending his tongue all the way inside, letting it rest for a moment and then pulling it back into his mouth, tasting her. This wasn’t humiliating, this was all a dream.
He growled into her plot and started to lap faster, exploring more, and she felt something poke at her back, it was warm, nearly hot, and felt a little like the wooden posts she had helped her brother set up on the farm before. Happy memories, she should remember them.
He moved back over to his mate, dragging Applebloom on the ground along with him, and he lay down behind her. He pawed at her rear for a moment and let off a few peculiar noises and she looked back. She responded with a chirp, a wink, and raising her tail, revealing her moistened lips to her mate and his toy. What they planned didn’t concern Applebloom, this was all a dream.
That was until she was forced headfirst into the crushingly tight hole of the female. She first felt her forehead being pressed into something soft, pliant, and wet, then she felt her torso being pressed forward by the male who was taking the opportunity to penetrate her more with his tongue. After a few seconds she felt her head sink into the surface and could feel the warm wet walls beginning to engulf her.
She could feel them seeming to cook and compress her all at once as she entered and went father. This couldn’t be a dream, this was too much. It got worse when she felt her crown slip inside and then the rest seemed to pop in easily, her whole head and neck consumed in a flash by the pulsating hole.
Slowly but surely, her shoulders slowly slipped inside and she was gifted by a gap in the bone-crushing folds, allowing a little oxygen in, it was sweet and her throat clogged with a copious amount of liquid seeping all around her. As more and more of her was pressed inside she felt every time a ‘supply vent’ closed up from the oppressive hold of the fleshy cave surrounding her, cutting off her oxygen for a moment before another opened up.
She hadn’t been paying attention, but outside the forest shook with roars of pleasurable pain, the larger manticore squirming while the treat was forced inside her and it flailed and struggled inside.
After suffering in the dark for what was to her a millennium, Applebloom developed a headache from the pressure, heat, and lack of oxygen. It made her head pound and throb in time with her heart and the one surrounding her. The beat slowly consumed her, her breathing aligned to it, as did her erratic bursts of struggle.
But her headache was forgotten when she felt the cave put even more pressure on her as the male mounted his mate, now standing upright, and something stab her broken leg; his large member. She screamed into the fleshy wall and tried to bite it, but it escaped her flat teeth. The object stabbed her leg again and she felt her femur bend and break behind the force, her bone shattering and filling her flesh with shards of calcium.
The third time it stabbed wasn’t much better, though it got a little farther before it truly started to hurt. The stabbing object, the spiky phallus of the male manticore, entered her moistened underage slit, sliding in further and further till it hit Applebloom’s cervix. She thrashed and screamed and was rewarded by it not breaking. Instead she was driven deeper inside the love tunnel of the beast.
That only lasted a moment thought, and as soon as she felt a surface at her head blocking the way, it punched through her own inner wall. The pain was indescribable and she screamed like a banshee, thrashing around while the foreign object stretching her to her splitting point rested inside for a moment. All her struggles brought about was an orgasm from the manticore she resided inside, condemning herself to a swift death.
She hit at the fleshy wall and its ridges and its special hole in the center, but it wouldn’t budge for her and offered no escape from the throbbing shaft that was impaled inside her belly. The hole did press inwards however, but all she was greeted to was a sudden splash in the face of hot liquid, its spunky flavor permeating her mouth and blinding her with its viscosity.
Then she felt the spiny thing inside her, which was causing so much pain, slowly withdraw. Applebloom sighed a sigh of relief and swallowed what was in her mouth, thankful it was gone, only to have her mouthful violently shoved back up her windpipe from the reentrance of the demon. It thrust quickly, and every time it came back inside her ribs grotesquely bulged out till finally, in a large thrust, she felt it break through.
The agony was blinding, but she still managed to see the holes burst from chest. Her ribs were done for stabbing up and out while the member moved beneath, pushing the broken bits to the surface.
With every thrust of the hot member, more and more of her was broken. It kept going; getting farther and farther through till her heart was pounded to a bloody pulp. It kept on going, and Applebloom remained conscious only long enough to feel her throat buckle and split under its relentless pounding.
With that, the last of the three crusaders died, her body being used as a violent fuck toy for the pleasure of the killers of the group. Soon enough, the male finished up, he thrust again, breaking through the skull of Applebloom and his pointed member penetrating the womb of his partner, knotting him in while he pumped out even more than he had the other two times. Once he was done he pulled out and deemed her filling satisfactory.
He then leaned down and started to clean her of the corpse residing inside and transfer it to his belly. He carefully caressed her walls with his tongue and pulled out bones, muscle, gray matter, a bow he pulled out was merely spat to the side, and other bits and pieces till she was entirely clean of the obtrusive presence.
When he was done, he cautiously curled up next to her and purred as he watched her consume the entirety of the zebra’s body, only spitting out her jewelry. Maybe she wouldn’t eat him; maybe this unique mating experience would spell an end to that practice and a start of fully mated couples. With that happy thought, he fell asleep.
* * *
Fluttershy hummed as she made her way through the forest, she had gotten word of a newly bred manticore, and as this was in Fluttershy’s zone of the Everfree, it was her responsibility to tend to her during the pregnancy.
She flitted through the trees and made her way to where some birds had been frantically telling her, she attributed their excitement to the probable elimination of the male hunter, and incapacitation of the female for a time.
Oh, and if she was out in the woods, she might as well ask around for the kids, they had gone to whitetail woods in search of their cutiemarks yesterday according to what they had told Ms. Cheerilee, but they had yet to return; maybe some birds had been down from up there and had news. But that could wait until after the talk with the new soon-to-be mother.
She made her way to the clearing, wincing at the smell of blood, but it was what they did and she couldn’t blame them for that, what she was surprised to see was the male. Usually by this point, he was either long gone or helping feed the fetus in a very… literal sense. But he was right there, alive and well, grooming the slumbering female.
Fluttershy stopped in the air and had to start flapping again before she hit the ground and made the fatal mistake of appearing weak. She slowly flew forward and the male just watched her. He owed her and they both knew it, that spine that had ailed him many moons ago had not been ordinary, and might have killed him afore long. As for the female, she knew of Fluttershy and had met her before, she was worthy, and if she brought her food she was okay.
But Fluttershy got no closer, she hovered there, staring at a small object on the ground, a gold bangle, one of Zecora’s, laying on a smear of blood in front of the female. There was no way, Zecora knew better, and she would never let herself be distracted and let them ambush her… there was no way… but the more she looked, the more of the bangles she saw, some leading off into the woods.
And then, when she looked closer, that was when her heart stopped; lying near the male was, unmistakably, Applebloom’s bow. “no… no…no…no…” she murmured to herself over and over, her eyes riveted.
She hovered for nearly ten minutes, tears streaming down her cheeks and just the soft murmur repeating over and over. She was brought from her reprieve by a slight burp from the female manticore.
Her eyes shifted to the monster and she met its intelligent eyes. It knew she knew, and she knew it knew she knew… but it grinned anyway and showed her a toothy grin, Fluttershy’s eyes drawn to the scrap of orange caught and her breath catching.
Then, as a final blow, the manticore brought a small white object to her mouth and used it as a toothpick to dislodge the scrap, a small, pure white horn.
