Fp/M . NC . **

You sit in bed browsing the internet on totally not-porn websites. It’s been a long day’s night, and you’ve been working like a dog. With any luck, after perusing the armpit of the internet known as rule34.net you’ll be able to start sleeping like a log.

It comes as no surprise to you, since you’re a male, that you find anything involving the insertion of a male reproductive into a female reproductive organ super sexy. For some reason, when your girlfriend caught you looking at Charizard banging an eighteen year old Misty in the rear, she took great offense.

Thus ended your relationship: pokemon porn. If it weren’t meant to be fap’d too, then why did it get featured on the rule 34 website? There is no shame in your late night activities. The thought occurs to you that sex is sex is sex, and if the next thing you saw was. . . a magical talking pony with a vagina, you’d have sex with it.

After all, the Bro Code clearly states: any warm orifice will do.

SURPRISE!!!

You throw the iPad into the ceiling in surprise, interrupting your game of Angry Birds. The tent you had created in the bedsheet quickly deflates as you get hit in the head by the iPad. Any hopes of finding Angry Bird rule 34 photos out the window, you look to your left and see a pink pony with poofy hair.

You look to your right, hoping that this is a delusion and that you’re actually in the middle of the street being hit by a truck. No dice.

Turning your attention back, the pony bursts into song.

You’re a sexy horny human guy,

to which I can only reply:

I’ve never met you but I’ll blow you

‘cuz I’m your new friend Pinkie Pie!

As the shock fades you notice that Pinkie is balancing on her back legs in fishnet stockings. On her forelegs are black silk socks. She’s wearing a bit of latex lingerie that turns her equine curves into something you would easily store in your “artwork” folder on the D: drive of your computer.

Of course, the “artwork” folder is nested under two folders named “archived documents” and “scholarly articles.” You don’t want your next girlfriend finding that photo of Oprah eating the Pillsbury doughboy’s croissant.

“Well? What’s your name?” Pinkie asks. This is accompanied by an explosion of confetti out of a small cannon. You, your bed, and everything within ten feet of it are covered in confetti. After some of it makes its way into your mouth, you notice that they are, in fact, sprinkles.

“Oh, I think I broke him.” You turn to face Pinkie, and somehow she is now behind you listening to your breathing with a stethoscope. “Nope, he still has a lung. . . wait, he has two lungs! Quick, prep for surgery!”

“Stop!” you shout. The pony bounces back off the bed.

“All better! That’ll be five bits, or sex.”

“What?” you ask. “I’m not paying you five bits, what is that Japanese currency or something? Is this my real life? Or is this fantasy?”

“Oh I love that song,” Pinkie says. “Let’s sing it.” She takes a very deep breath.

Is this the real life?

Is this just fantasy?

Caught in a landslide

No escape from rea—

You interrupt her by telling her your name. “There, happy?”

“Okie Dokie Lokie! Let’s get our sex on!”

“Oh god. . . what is going on?”

“No silly, you’re supposed to say it like this: ‘Oh Pinkie! Oh Pinkie! Harder! Faster! OH PINKIE!” Pinkie starts giggling and jumps on top of the bed, quickly sitting in your lap.

You go to push her off but she is quicker than she looks, dancing around you on the bed effortlessly. “Look, I’m flattered but I—”

“Oh what’s this?” Pinkie picks up your iPad. “Oh! I’ve always wanted one of these. Last time I visited Earth I tried to sneak one back by Twilight took it away. She says we’re only supposed to have sex, no stealing technology or trying to bring humans back to be our sex toys.”

“Don’t touch that!” you shout, but it’s too late.

Pinkie turns the iPad on and drops it in horror. “Sweet Celestia—is that—is that an angry red bird getting raped by a pig!”

“Yes, it’s called Rule 34 an—”

“And it’s disgusting! My friend is a pig, they’d never rape a bird!”

You slide back against the headboard of the bed, sitting there and talking to the strange creature. “You’re missing the point, if it exists, then there is porn of it! It applies to everything!”

“Wait, so you’re saying there is porn of two cakes having sex?” Pinkie sits down on the bed and tilts her head, giving you what you assume is a look of deep thought. “Is that how marble cake is made?”

“Yes.”

“A cow and a chipmunk having sex?”

“Alvin, Theodore, or Simon?” you ask. She gives you a confused look. “Nevermind, answer is yes.”

“Hmm.... Princess Celestia and Princess Leia.”

“I don’t know who Celestia is, but I’m going to have to say yes. Rule 34 star wars is very popular.”

“And what if I find something that doesn’t exist? Would it have porn?”

“No, but rule 35 clearl—wait just a freaking minute. I’m arguing over rule 34 with a freaking talking pony! What the hell is going on!?”

Pinkie jumps up and smiles widely. “Why I’m here to have sex with you, of course!”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better? I mean, I already had the tissues and lotion and everything. I don’t need you to give me a hand.”

“How about a hoof?” Pinkie asks. She offers a hoof for your examination.

“Assuming I wanted to play along, I don’t see how you could hold anything in a hoof.” You push the hoof away and sigh.

“Silly, like this!” Pinkie offers the equine hoof to you again, and begins bending it in half. She lifts up the iPad using her bent hoof.

“. . .” You close your gaping mouth and touch the hoof with both hands. It’s hard and curved ever so gracefully. She giggles as you run your hands along the hard, smooth surface of her foot. Somehow, she is able to bend what is, for all intents and purposes, a giant fingernail and use it as a prehensile limb.

“Yep, I’m told I give the best hoof jobs in Equestria. Some stallions think it sounds painful, but it’s not. Now, if you want painful there’s the ear job or the nose job. I wouldn’t recommend those for a beginner. . . in fact I don’t recommend those for anypony. Stallions are too big and once they get in, they can’t get back out. I knew a mare who went deaf, blind, AND lost her sense of smell doing that.”

Several images are racing through your mind. Most of them involve the manhood of a stallion and the nasal cavity of a mare. You pray to any deity that might be listening to have mercy and just kill you now, because that’s an image you’ll never get out of your head.

“. . . then the classic blow job, tail job, rim job, pastern job, fetlock job, boob job, part-time job, and my favorite: the nun job.” Pinkie finishes listing off every job she can think of that involves sex. She smiles. “Pick one!”

You sigh and admit defeat. “Alright, what do I have to do to get rid of you?”

Pinkie jams something in your ear, cleaning out all the wax. She repeats the process on the other side and whips a couple cupcakes out of her mane. “You seem to be having difficulty hearing so I’ll make this simple.”

You recoil from the jabs into your ear canals. “Okay.”

Pinkie sets down the two cupcakes and puts on her sunglasses. “What would you say if I told you that none of this is real. If this were a dream about ponies so real, that you could not tell it from reality. Now, what if you didn’t know you were dreaming. Would you eat more cupcakes, assuming that it’s a dream and you can’t get fat? Or would you play it safe and stick to healthy diet and exercise?”

“I uh—”

“Shhh! I’m not done,” she interjects.”Before you are two cupcakes. If you take the red cupcake, you’ll wake up in the morning. You’ll go about your normal life, never having known that you spent eight hours committing depraved sexual acts with me.

“However, if you pick the blue cupcake, I’ll show you how deep the pony hole goes. I’ll ride you to sheer exhaustion, leaving an empty husk to drag itself out of bed in the morning for a shower. You’ll spend the rest of your life with the knowledge that no human will ever feel as good or as tight as Pinkie Pie. Eventually, you’ll either find a way to magically teleport yourself to Equestria, find and raise a cyan pegasus you found in a box to be your personal pony sex slave, or kill yourself.

“Personally, I’d vote for option number two. If you were the sole human male in Equestria, you’d probably get sexed to death. Seriously, ponies have a serious fetish for human males. That’s why we visit Earth so much!”

Your mouth is hanging open in utter shock. Not only does none of this make sense, not a single damn thing about it, but this pony is making movie references to movies she could not possibly have ever seen! In fact, she’s not even real!

“Okie Dokie Lokie, times up!” Pinkie picks up the blue cupcake and shoves it in your mouth.

“Mmph!” you protest. She pins you to the headboard by her hooves, holding your mouth closed with hers. You struggle to get free, hitting her in the stomach. She responds by planting a hoof in your stomach much harder.

You start gasping for breath, and in an admission of defeat, start swallowing the cupcake. It tastes like a sugary blueberry with hints of cinnamon and chocolate. It is the best thing you’ve tasted in a long time, and given the direction this evening is headed, probably the best thing you’ll eat tonight.

A warmth begins to flow through your body, giving you a slightly light-headed and care-free feeling. You begin to feel every individual hair on Pinkie caressing your skin.

“Perfect!” Pinkie exclaims. She hops down to your feet and begins suckling your toes.

“Seriously? A foot fetish?” you ask. You feel as if you should care more, but at this point you're so horny that you just want to get sexed and get this whole nightmare over with.

“It’s more of a toe fetish. Ponies don’t have toes. I mean, technically we do, it’s just that they’re all inside the hoof and the hoof is just a giant middle toe with a giant fingernail, and Twilight says it shouldn’t count but I say it could beca—”

“Sorry! Seriously, just keep one of my extremities in your mouth at all times, okay? You talk too much.”

Pinkie resumes suckling on your toes, playfully nipping at them and trying to catch you off-guard. You’re quite ticklish but she doesn’t catch onto it.

Soon a bowl of batter appears from nowhere and she covers your legs in cupcake batter. Rainbow sprinkles fall out her mane and onto your legs as she does an exotic strip-tease. You get a gorgeous view of her assets as she lifts her tail and parades her plot in front of your face. She bends over on top of you and begins licking the cake batter off.

You have no choice but to stare into her soft, warm pink flesh as she gets to work. “Well, I’ve seen stranger things on the internet. I suppose this isn’t the worst thing that could happen to me.”

“Hmm?” Pinkie asks. She looks underneath her belly to stare up at you. There is a mess of cake batter dripping off her nose, and covering her face.

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking aloud. Please, continue.”

You try to relax as the freakishly dexterous tongue continues it’s task of licking every drop of cake batter off your legs. Before you know it she is finished, and you realize that she somehow snuck off your underwear. Given that they are tighty whities, it’s impressive to say the least.

“Yum, now that the foreplay is done, it’s time for my favorite part.”

“And what would that be?” you ask.

Pinkie trots to the end of the bed and jumps off. You watch curiously as she swivels the cannon to aim at you.

“Pinkie wait!” you yell.

With a loud explosion the cannon fires, blinding you in the smoke. You begin to cough and realize that something is covering your mouth. You open your eyes to see what it is, but your eyes are also covered.

“I love it when a plan including streamers comes together!”

You sit forward and try to rip the streamers off your face. Both of your arms seem to be encased in multiple streamers that are sticking to the headboard of the bed. You wiggle every direction you can to try and tear an arm free. Realizing it’s futile, you try to push yourself up with your legs. Pinkie seems to have hit them with the streamers too.

“Oh it’s so much more fun this way, don’t you agree? Completely at my mercy for. . . seven more hours?” You hear the pony giggling and feel that tongue again, tracing it’s way along your inner thighs.

“I wonder if I can say the Equestrian alphabet backwards with that in my mouth?” she asks. You feel the tongue curl around your johnson. A second later there is a warm wet plop.

“Z. . . esx. . . twy. . . doubletrue. . .skree. . .” Pinkie stops bobbing up and down and you hear slurping. “Oops, messed up. Let’s try again.”

“Z. . . why. . .ex. . . double-you. . .”

At least she’s getting better at it. Maybe in an hour or two she’ll finish the alphabet and let you go.

At worst, that was the most interesting field sobriety test you’ve ever been subjected too. After Pinkie mastered saying the alphabet backwards while you tickle the back of her throat, she took off the streamer over your mouth.

Then it was your turn to say the alphabet backwards while tickling the back of her throat. You made it to Y.

Pinkie was a bit disappointed at your stamina, and the next sound you heard sent a chill down your spine. It was metal scraping against metal.

“Now, since you couldn’t last past the letter Y when I was gonna try so hard to please you, I’ll have to punish you.”

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“I’m going to make cupcakes!”

You feel a cold metal blade sliding along the inside of your right leg. Your heart begins to beat quickly and you suddenly feel an overwhelming sense of fear. Inches away from your manhood, a psychotic mare is holding what feels like a butchers knife.

“You crazy bi—mmph!” Pinkie interrupts you by slamming the adhesive streamer back in place.

“Now, I’m thinking. . . hot dog cupcakes? Maybe carrot cake? Hmm. . . if you’ve been drinking lately, maybe some liver cupcakes? It could be just like rum cake!” Pinkie giggles.

You notice a distinct change in her voice. Gone is the happy, talkative mare that assaulted you earlier in the evening. Now, a cold, calculating voice has taken over. You can feel the curly, poofy hair on your legs. Except, now the hair is cold, straight, and nearly featureless.

You hear cackling and can only imagine the wicked grin on her face. You feel a sharp pain near your right knee as she pokes the tip of the knife in. You recoil from the pain, driving it in a little deeper.

“Now now, Sweetie, I wouldn’t want my little treat to get hurt too badly.” She begins running the knives along your sides again and you fall perfectly still. Despite the mortal peril, you find yourself ready for round two of sex. You silently curse your libido for wanting to get laid at a time like this.

There’s another prick, this time on your left arm. A couple warm drops begin to roll down it. Pinkie opens her mouth with an audible pop and places it down over the only limb she left free of the restraints.

You can feel the dull backside of the knives rubbing against your dick as she goes to work. She’s just one slip away from turning you into a woman. Somehow, you find it oddly erotic.

As Pinkie works you closer and closer to the edge, she begins to prick you with the knives again. Each jolt of pain gets mixed in with the pleasurable feelings. After half a dozen of them, you can’t tell the difference anymore. You’re enjoying the pain as much as the blow job.

You must have been pricked at least two dozen times. By the end, Pinkie wasn’t even using her mouth anymore. She just sat to your side, pricking you with the knives. Each time your brain received that flicker of pain, it misinterpreted it as pleasure.

After one such cut went a little deeper than the others, you exploded, spraying you-know-what everywhere.

It felt like half an hour before you reached the end of that orgasm, probably due to the fact that Pinkie was still enjoying poking you. Suddenly, you realized you had spent the last hour being poked to death.

You begin struggling furiously to get free and call 911.

“Relax, Sweetie, I wasn’t going to hurt you.” Pinkie pulls off the blindfold just in time for you to see her straight hair curl back up. “It was all in good fun.”

You look down at your extremities. The knives weren’t butcher knives, they were a tad smaller than a steak knife. Every spot she pricked with the knives was now bandaged with the streamers. The band-aid streamers had little smiling ponies on them.

“See?” Pinkie lifted up one of the bandages, showing a cut that was nearly fully healed. “It’s like magic!” she exclaimed and began giggling, “Because it is!”

“Mmphs?” you say.

“Oh, my bad.” Pinkie takes the gag off of your mouth.

“Are. . . are we finished?” you whimper.

“Oh we have an hour left and you’ve been such a good sport. If you want, then we’re finished. As a reward, however, I’ll let you tie me up for the next hour and have some fun. Would you like that?”

You look at the pink mare, instantly picturing her hogtied and gagged on your bedroom floor. As much as you hate to admit it, you would love nothing more than to have sex again with a pony.

Author's Note

Vote on Chapter Four's pony here.