Hazardous Material

by AtomicClop

Rating: mature
Tags: Thunderlane, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Porn, Rarity, Sex
Length: 3080

Thunderlane is quarantined. He needs to provide samples. To Rarity. Internal samples. That might leak a little.

Thunderlane is quarantined. He needs to provide samples. To Rarity. Internal samples. That might leak a little.

Thanks to the usual Discord crews for brainstorming.

Contains: Thunderlane barebacking and creampie-ing Rarity while she wears her hazmat suit.

Might or might not be a sequel to Laid in Manehattan, IDK🤷?

Published 2022-07-07 10:20:00 UTC
Last updated 2022-07-07 10:20:00 UTC

Suited for success

"Did you hear?" Dash asked.

"Hear what, Darling?" I replied, looking over the top of my sunglasses at her.

"Thunderlane."

We were sitting on the shore near Ponyville pond. Dash was sunning herself while I sat under an umbrella, slathered in Zecora's finest sunscreen, a floppy canary-colored sundress and hat on. Scootaloo and Apple Bloom splashed in the lake and I kept half an eye on them, in case they should need rescue.

"Dash," I said, "don't make me play twenty questions. You know I hate that."

"I'll play twenty questions!" Sweetie Belle chirped. She sat on a lounger next to me, reading a Daring Do novel, unable to swim because her throat, snout, and cheeks were wrapped in sterile gauze, the burns from her latest culinary experiment still healing. (Thank goodness she'd been wearing safety goggles and her scooter helmet.) She asked, "Thunderlane is marrying you?"

Dash laughed. "No, Sweetie. He's stuck in the Ponyville Hotel. He's got exposed to griffardiasis, so the mayor quarantined him."

"Oh!" Sweetie said. "I didn't know the mayor could have ponies drawn and quarantined!"

I facehoofed, smudging my sunglasses. I levitated them off and wiped them with a silk hoofkerchief while explaining to Sweetie, "Quarantined, not quartered. He has to isolate in the hotel until he's over griffardiasis, or else until they're sure he won't come down with it."

"Oh," Sweetie said.

"Anyway," Dash said, "I'm going to drop some food and books off on his balcony later."

"Is that safe, dear?" I asked.

Dash shrugged. "Not really. It's pretty contagious. But he's a friend."

"Is anypony visiting him?"

"Nurse Redheart had griffardiasis last year so she's safe to check on him, but she's so busy she only goes every third day or so."

I put my sunglasses back on. "Dash, you recall my hazmat suit from the vampire fruit bats incident, yes?"

"Yeah?"

"I still have it. I'll drop off his supplies."

Dash offered me a hoof and I bumped it. "You're a good friend, Rarity. Are you sure you aren't the Element of Loyalty?"

As soon as Dash closed her eyes and returned to snoring and Sweetie Belle's eyes returned to her book, I put a forehoof between my legs, laid as still as possible, and thought of Thunderlane.

I then had to hop in the pond to cool myself off and ensure nopony noticed my sudden parfum, which was eau de horny unicorn.

Navigating the stairs was challenging. The hoofs of my hazmat suit were always a little awkward, and I'd added some high-heeled boots that I hoped gave just the right feel of elegant sluttiness. The helmet reduced my vision, particularly straight down, so I found myself feeling my way up one hoof at a time on the stairs.

Needless to say, Thunderlane's room was on the top floor of Ponyville Inn. By the time I reached that floor, I was breathing heavily and fogging the faceplate of my helmet. I was also sweating, which I do so loathe. I'm not a farmpony!

The saddlebags over my hips, full of supplies from Pinkie, Dash, and I for Thunderlane, seemed not nearly as heavy as the suit itself.

The top floor of the hotel was quiet and empty. A single door—naturally at the far end of the hallway—was marked with a yellow quarantine placard. I caught my breath, the fan in the suit's blower providing me with fresh, filtered, cool air, and then I went to the door and knocked.

After a few seconds, the door cracked open and I saw a single gold eye peek out at me. Thunderlane threw the door wide, his mouth moving in speech that was lost under the hum of the fan and rush of air inflating my helmet.

"May I come in, Thunderlane?" I shouted.

He nodded and made a sweeping gesture with a forehoof. I pranced into the hotel room.

Once again, his mouth moved but I couldn't hear him.

"Speak up, Darling!"

"What are you doing here!" he shouted.

The saddlebags spilled open as I dropped them on the floor. Apples, wrapped hayburgers, cupcakes, books, and magazines all poured out.

I levitated up a Playpony and its centerfold—Dash in the risqué (by which I mean 'crotchless') version of her Wonderbolts' outfit I had made for the photoshoot—unfolded. "This was my idea, since you can't have any... female companionship?"

His eyes widened and his wings slid down his flanks, hiding his underside from my view. He nodded.

"How do you feel?" I shouted.

"Good!" he said. "Nurse Redheart says two more days without symptoms and I can leave quarantine!"

Oh ho ho, I thought. He wasn't sick?

He reached up with his wings and used his feathers to grip the Playpony issue, staring at the centerfold. This caused his wings to cease shielding his underside and I say clearly that the photograph of Dash had his most firm attention.

"You know," I shouted, "I could take a sample back to Nurse Redheart."

"Hmmm?" He looked from the centerfold to me.

I raised my tail and my magic unzipped the rump of my hazmat suit. I had originally put the zipper in so that I could relieve myself while wearing the suit; an elastic band around my waist kept the air in my helmet isolated from the air around my rump, so that seemed like a clever innovation.

But like most great inventions, this one had more than one use.

He dropped the Playpony on the floor and licked his lips. "I'm not—I'm not in the clear!"

"Griffardiasis isn't sexually transmitted."

"How do you know?"

"Just fuck me, Darling, I'm a horny unicorn!"

He shrugged his wings and made a bow down gesture with a hoof.

Turning around and leaving my rump high, I lowered my forequarters, giving him face-down-bottom-up access. Since I could not turn to look over my shoulder due to the helmet, I simply closed my eyes and waited for him to surprise me. With the hum of the fan in my ears, his approach and whispered sweet nothings were lost, so it was a strange but welcome feeling to know my temple of marehood would be defiled so wonderfully in but a moment, but without being able to anticipate the exact—

I huffed in surprise as his hot breath played across my excited nether region. I had expected him to simply mount me and provide a two-pump-dump, but instead, I was going to get oral foreplay?

What a gentlecolt, indeed!

I kneaded the hotel room's carpet with my forelegs, clenching my eyes tight, as his teeth nibbled the fine fuzz to the left of my marehood, his tongue dragging through the fur, ruffling it against the grain. Tiny shivers ran up my flanks and spine, the tight elastic of my suit around my waist giving an odd but sensual feeling. I wondered if the sensation of the elastic was a tiny hint of what pegasi felt when having their wings bound?

A gasp escaped me as he bit, bit hard, on the dock of my tail and pulled, the sudden pain providing a massive rush of erotic energy to my rear end. I felt my lower lips becoming wet and my tabo entrance tightened like Twilight thinking about a book about dildos.

A wave of heat rushed from my clit, up my belly, and burned around my insides as his lips clamped around my nub. He suckled and tongued me, my flows of lady fluids increasing and my breath now ragged pants, my ears straight up and brushing the top of my suit's helmet. The sensations rushed through my body and I moaned. So few stallions knew what to do with a proper lady's ladybits!

His tongue then dragged up, slowly and oh-so-firmly, between my lower lips, across the opening of my channel, and I came, a small squirt out of my temple onto his face and a shiver up my spine.

He then sloppily licked me, back-and-forth across my lips and my hips, gathering all those juices, before hopping up onto me.

Weight pressed down on my rear legs, the weight of not just the heavy suit but also of a muscular, well-built stallion as he mounted me. My rear hooves spread a little wider and I settled more weight forward, onto my elbows and chin.

I moaned, deep in my chest, at the pleasure of feeling his weight bore down on me, forcing me down, dominating me and holding me in place. The inability to see or hear him, and the reduction in touch as his forelegs and chest touched me through my suit, was erotic in a way I didn't know before. I could have looked towards the full-length mirror on the closet door and watched him mount me, but I chose instead to close my eyes and let the experience be purely tactile.

A huge, hard slab of stallion touched me and I squeaked, as if trying to suppress a sneeze. His tip poked left of my opening, hitting the crease between my thigh and my labia and ruffling my soft pubic fuzz, and he pulled back and tried again. On the second try, his aim was true and he caught me between my labia, his broad, blunt tip pressing against the opening of my temple of marehood.

I sighed, emptying my lungs in anticipation of the ecstasy that was about to wash over me. My temple has had, shall we say, a large congregation of past worshippers, but Thunderlane was about to hold one of the largest services in its history.

Or, to put it in plain Ponish, I think his cock was second only to Mac's and I expected to get stretched most thoroughly out. He pressed in a fraction of a hoof, his tip spreading open my vestibule. The sensation was a mixture of pleasure and pain; my recent liaisons had been with Sunburst, who was a skilled and sensitive lover, but of merely average endowment. Thunderlane's forelegs scrabbled against my waist as he tried to lever himself in, and then—

I screamed as his entire length slammed home, deep into me, his pubis crashing against my bottom and his glans smashing into the bottom of my womb. I was so wet from his oral ministrations that he slid in effortlessly once his wide flare made it past my opening.

The sensation of fullness washed over me, lighting a fire like live coals in my belly, and my entire body shook with the pleasure and hints of pain. Oh, he was huge! Being filled, feeling the pressure of giant, pendulous balls against my clit and a wide, hard tip against the bottom of my womb, oh me oh my, how I love cock and how I especially love huge cock!

His weight shifted and he pulled slowly backwards. The pressure of his flared tip scraping down the sopping-wet, velvety walls of my temple made my legs tremble and my ears shake. I clenched my eyes tighter, focusing my entire body on the sensation of his massive flare clobbering my g-spot as he withdrew.

The next thrust was slow, sooooooo slow, that I felt my pussy gush juices and I screamed into the helmet as he drove in across my g-spot again. At his full depth, he shifted his weight against my back and pressed in a little more, the pressure of his length against the bottom of my womb a combination of uncomfortable and wonderful, and I reveled in the oh-too-rare pleasure of a stallion huge enough to reach the fullness of my depths.

A sudden loss of sound surprised me—the droning of my suit's fan cut off and I could suddenly hear the muffled sounds of Thunderlane's speech, something like "Oh you're so wet and so hot and so soft—"

My eyes popped open. I couldn't breathe! His shifting weight was clamping off my air hose! The air in my helmet was already going stale and fog appeared on the faceplate. I flicked my eyes to the mirror and saw Thunderlane, eyes closed, ears erect, wings flared, mounted high on my back, balls-deep inside me, and the powerful flight muscles of his chest pressing my air hose into a crimp.

I shook my rump, trying to get his attention. I shouted "Air hose!" but he didn't seem to hear, too lost in his own pleasure, and my voice weakening in the stagnant air.

His cock slowly withdrew from me and slammed in hard. He seemed to think my desperate butt-shaking was me getting further into it! I dropped my rear legs, intending to let my belly slap into the floor, but his cock literally held me up. He was so erect he could cantilever my weight.

Under normal circumstances, such a cock-lift would have sent me in a quivering paroxysm of ecstasy.

It did this time, too, and I came hard, my temple gushing its approval, but I was also still in the early stages of a Fluttershy-class panic attack as my throat tightened in desperation for fresh air.

Thunderlane lowered himself, and hence me, converting our position from face-down-bottom-up to the speedbump position and he started rutting me again, his hips now higher than mine and the down angle smashing my g-spot in a fashion that, despite the loss of air and burgeoning panic, I admitted was probably the best sex of my entire life. Every time he crashed over that spot, everything below my withers shook in response and I felt my pussyjuices flowing all the more freely.

He wasn't noticing that I was suffocating. The air in my helmet grew more and more stale. I squirmed and jerked, pressing with all four legs, but he was simply too muscular, too heavy for me to buck off. He leaned his weight forward and crushed me down to the floor and accidentally squeezed out the little air I had left in my lungs!

Usually I enjoy a stallion's muscular weight crushing me against the bed. These were not usual circumstances, however.

So, that's when I decided: my only hope was to make him cum fast. Finishing him was the fastest path back to getting him off my air hose.

I remembered the spell I once saw in a ladies' magazine. A spell I had never actually tried, since it had a reputation of being unpleasant, painful, and generally not fun for the mare.

A spell that was guaranteed to make a stallion cum instantly.

I lit my horn, the glow filling my helmet and turning the beads of condensation on the faceplate into chips of brilliant sapphire, and released the spell. The aura of magic absorbed back into my skull, adding to the no-air dizziness (have I mentioned I don't like breathplay?!), and then shot down my spine with a sensation like the pins-and-needles when your hoof falls asleep, before exploding across my belly as the spell hit my uterus.

With Thunderlane's next thrust, my cervix opened wide and he slipped through it, his last hoof's-width of cock getting full penetration, and I heard him shout "Oh!"

A look at the mirror, despite the blurring of the fog on my visor, showed me an expression of befuddled wonder on his face.

I smiled... and used the spell's magic to clamp my cervix down around the shaft of his cock, locking his glans deep into my uterus.

It didn't hurt at all. They'd lied to us. This spell was wonderful and I'd lost more than a decade of degenerate pleasure by being afraid of it!

Although the inability to breathe somewhat tempered my erotic delight.

Thunderlane tried to pull backwards but I had him as tightly locked in my deepest, most intimate place as if he were encased in concrete. He simply dragged me backwards across the floor, his cock entirely anchored.

My vision sparkled at the edges and as the last dregs of air in my lungs grew stale and I knew I had to finish him fast to get him off my air hose!

With the last of my strength, I used my Kegel-trained muscles to massage his shaft and called on the spell to clamp and release my womb around his tip and my cervix around his ridge, letting the heat and wetness of my velvety depths delight him.

His hips slammed forward, driving even deeper into me and my vision went entirely dark in the mixed pleasure-pain of being utterly, entirely filled with a massive slab of a muscular, attractive stallion.

Then, he came. His cock pulsed inside me and his balls throbbed where they pressed into my clit. The sudden fullness of my womb as he shot his gift deeper into me than any stallion before sent a wave of burning heat radiating across my body and I came, too, my entire backside clenching from uterus to tail-hole, squeezing rhythmically on him to milk every last drop of cum and as my own consciousness seemed on its last gasp, my entire body tingling and my vision entirely black, Thunderlane rolled off me, off my air hose, to our left.

With a roar, my air returned and I gasped as his weight left my chest. The cool, fresh air from the filtered fan blew across my face and cleared the fog from the visor.

In the mirror, as my vision returned after a few deep breaths, I saw Thunderlane lying spread-eagled on his back, wings and legs splayed, and his cock pointing at the ceiling and soaked in my fluids and his cum.

"Wow!" I shouted.

His eyes closed as his cock softened.

"Typical," I muttered, but I couldn't be angry at him. That had been despite (or perhaps because of?) the sensation of losing my air, the best sex I'd ever had. I dared not stand, because all four legs and every fiber of my body below my shoulderblades trembled.

"I guess you got my sample for Redheart, huh?" Thunderlane shouted.

I laughed and shook my head.

"What about me?" Redheart said, striding into Thunderlane's hotel room. "I see."

We both turned to look at her. She stared at my rump.

"That's not necessarily the best idea you ever had, Rarity!" she said.

"I told Thunderlane I would harvest a sample for you."

Redheart licked her lips and grinned. "Did you now?"

Author's Note

Written while listening to "Drown in the Now" on repeat:

IFL The Crystal Method.