Events That Have Occurred (or 'Remember that time Twilight ate a bird?')

by darf

Rating: mature
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Main 6, Spike, Sex
Length: 19266

Each of the mane six has a wonderful day enjoying themselves. Absolutely nothing unusual happens; not at all like that time Twilight ate a bird. Almost ate a bird. Whatever. All events depicted herein are irrefutable canon.

Remember that time Twilight ate a bird?

If you don't, neither does she. But maybe she almost did. What if Twilight ate other things instead? Strange things. Weird things. What if she really liked eating them?

What if each of the mane six had something that totally and one-hundred percent happened in their lives as well? What if it was weird but kind of interesting to read about? Spike too, but no one cares about him.

These stories might be about those things.

Easily reconciled as FiM fanfiction.

TRIGGER WARNING: Don't. Just, really. Don't.

Insubstantial praise for Events That Have Occurred:

"The Dubliners of Pony Fanfiction!" – no one

"Tell me about the bird. Oh yes. Tell me. Whisper it into my ear. Oh yes. Say what she did. Tell me she — wait. She DIDN'T? YOU FUCKER. I was so close." – Horizon

Written for someone.

Published 2013-06-29 20:30:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-06-29 20:30:02 UTC

Twilight Sparkle: Strange Appetites

“Do you remember that time you ate a bird?”

Twilight looked up from her breakfast of slightly overcooked daffodils and grass and glared across the table at Spike, who was rising from his chair to bring his dishes to the sink.

“I did not eat a bird.” Twilight held a steady, eyes-narrowed stare at Spike as he ran some cold water over his plate.

“But I remember it,” Spike said. He turned off the water and shook off his claw, sending a few drops over the counter. “There was even that picture that went around town. I mean, you weren’t eating the bird in it, but it was pretty obvious you were gonna—”

“Spike. Listen to me.”

Twilight Sparkle stood up from her chair with a grating creak against the floor. Her horn shone briefly as she walked towards Spike with a deliberate pace. Spike’s damp claw found the back of his head, and he scratched it with a nervous look on his face.

“I did not. Eat. A bird.” Twilight’s horn shimmered, and Spike tensed, though no glow of magic neared him.

“But I—”

“I swear, you and everypony else in town have the worst memory. How could a pony just eat a bird? They’re too big, for one thing. I’m not a python. And where did the bones go?”

“Well...” Spike scratched his head for a moment before lowering his claw to his side. “But I swore...”

“This is just a remnant of what we call mass hysteria. Somepony says they saw or heard something and suddenly everypony saw or heard it, and some ponies go on to make awful images like that one that got around town before I spoke to the mayor myself about putting a stop to its slanderous circulation. I did not eat a bird.” Twilight’s horn glowed brightly before suddenly extinguishing to its normal dull purple. Twilight leaned close to Spike’s face and saw the lump move down his throat as he swallowed.

“Understand?” she asked.

Spike nodded.

“Sorry, Twilight. I guess I just remembered wrong.”

Twilight held her glare for a moment before a smile washed over her face, taking with it every trace of the ire that had been there a moment ago.

“It’s no problem. Could happen to anyone.”

And with that, Twilight returned to her chair to finish the rest of the breakfast. Spike stood in front of the sink for a second and watched her. After a moment, Twilight looked up and smiled at him. Spike smiled back, then trotted off towards the stairs and vanished up them shortly thereafter.

Twilight Sparkle had not eaten a bird.

She had eaten other things though.

The fact of the matter was that, in the often thrown-around picture of her standing by a picnic blanket with her friends, about to launch into a tearful remembrance of her early years with her BBBF, a bird had perched on her hoof. She had been in the midst of a meal when the message that inspired her song had been delivered, and true to the fact, not too much later she had even used a sandwich to parody her brother’s awful lack of openness about his coming marriage. But she hadn’t gotten a chance to eat the sandwich.

She had thought about eating the bird, but only in an abstract sort of way. The same way you might think about pushing a pony standing near you in front of a carriage, but you weren’t really thinking about it. Twilight had imagined opening her mouth like a giant snake, distending her jaw and taking the whole of the cute little birdie’s body between her teeth, swallowing it without even chewing and letting her stomach do the rest of the work. It looked delicious to her, for an instant. Something about the meatiness of its breast she imagined beneath its feathers, the fullness of it as it puffed out on her hoof. She’d heard of ancient tribes eating things like chicken and geese, and for a brief moment could see what they might have liked in the idea.

But she hadn’t eaten the bird.

It hadn’t left her though. After that day she’d gone to Canterlot, and shortly after that foiled a changeling plot to overtake Equestria. All in a day’s work. But the thought of the bird had stuck with her, and as was her nature, she’d begun to dwell on it. Was it just the bird that was appealing? There was something painfully mundane about grass and hay and flowers for every meal; Twilight wondered sometimes how ponies kept from going insane with such a limited diet. Surely there was more to life than greenery?

There was junk-food, of course. She and her friends had gotten drinks before she had confronted the faux-Cadance about her disguise. Milkshakes, thick and creamy and delicious. Twilight’s was strawberry.

She’d hesitated to throw the cup away when she was done. There was still a little bit of strawberry there, stuck to the inner rim of the cup.

Well, she could lick it off.

But the milkshake had been in the cup for a while. There might be some flavour left there.

She could still remember, even today, the hot, sweaty shameful excitement that had overtaken her. The way she’d glanced from side to side as she took the rim of the milkshake container into her teeth, braced down, and with her eyes closed, pulled. Ripped. Chewed. And, shaking, swallowed.

It wasn’t a bird. But it wasn’t grass either. It was different.

And it was good.

Twilight hadn’t finished the cup, but she’d taken a few more bites before dashing off to an ill-fated confrontation with her sister-in-law’s doppelganger. The events that followed were enough to put the idea out of her mind for a while.

But not for forever.

The next one had come at home. She was stocking the fridge, as was a necessity when getting new groceries, or simply assessing which ones needed to be acquired in the first place. In doing so, she’d found a bag of apples that had hidden behind a jug of milk, long-forgotten and well past their ‘use by’ date. The bag smooshed against her hoof as she moved it, and she stuck out her tongue at the sour smell.

But... the regular apples hadn’t been that good to begin with.

Once more, the flood of hot feelings inside had washed over her. She’d checked over her shoulder to make sure Spike was nowhere to be seen, then pulled the bag closer.

It had a nice plastic cover too. The apple in the corner didn’t look that bad. It was only half brown, really. And there were no fruit flies in the fridge, so it couldn’t be unhealthy, per se. Just overripe.

The plastic was cool on her teeth as she brought it up. The first bite had squelched in her mouth. It was sour, like the wine she’d sampled at her parents’ last dinner party.

But her mouth watered as she swallowed it. The core was less of an obstacle than usual, and in a way, eating it felt like she had well and truly defeated the apple. The plastic was just a nice garnish.

Twilight hid the bag in the crisper and promised to return to it later.

That was when she noticed something else, as she kneeled on the kitchen floor with pungent brown fruit-juice dripping from her chin. She licked it up, and felt a shiver run through her body. She noticed, then, that there was something wet dripping from somewhere else too. All over the kitchen floor.

It had taken her by surprise, and she’d shut the fridge and jumped up instantly to examine herself. When her hoof found the source of the dampness, she gasped openly. Spike came down the stairs at that ill-timed instant, and she blocked him with smalltalk while angling to run up to her room.

It was exactly what she thought. She was wet. And, for some reason, she couldn’t keep herself from shutting the door and finding the familiar position on her bed, bent over like a stallion was behind her while her hoof worked its magic on her special spot.

She’d never cum that hard before.

The next time had been a bit more mundane. She was helping Applejack with some simple farm work, holding a ladder while Applejack repaired a rafter. Fairly boring, but with a reward of cool apple-juice afterwards. Applejack’s toolkit was out, and within foreleg’s reach, as Twilight was also tasked with handing supplies up to Applejack. She relayed nails and implements without fuss... but as her hoof ran over the various toolbox compartments, she stopped when she noticed the small container filled with tiny, metal screws.

She felt it then. The flush. And, while Applejack was humming to herself and hammering away at barn-board, Twilight had snuck hooffuls of screws and swallowed them whole. They grated her throat as they went down. Even more shameful, she had felt the dampness again. It was wrong, so wrong, but she had snuck more than just mouthfuls when Applejack wasn’t looking. It was almost a game. But the finish line was no obstacle: Twilight came in Applejack’s barn with her friend feet away, staring obviously at her handiwork as Twilight rubbed herself out of sight and bit down hard on her lip to keep quiet, the taste of metal lingering in her mouth.

From then on, it had become an obsession. She’d considered birds again, but decided there was more to find that didn’t involve hurting something. Or breaking her jaw.

Scraps of paper were commonplace, though not as thrilling. Some old ink tasted faintly of spice, and she’d gone through an entire small hardcover novel before realizing the typeset might be toxic. Her lurching stomach had confirmed her suspicion, and led her to a lurching heave over the toilet, spewing balled up parchment into the cool bowl. She’d sprayed all over the bathroom floor in the process, which was no worry, because Spike was expecting to have to clean up anyway. He was so nice that way.

There was more: after various attempts at melting it, she’d eventually filed down a piece of silverware and drank it with a blend of old bananas like a smoothie. The mix was chunky, but very satisfying. Later in the same week, Spike dropped a glass in the kitchen; Twilight had hurried to sweep it up, and rubbed herself harder than ever as the viciously barbed dust went down her throat. The coughing blood afterwards had been worth it, though Twilight had made a note to be slightly more careful in the future.

After a few weeks of lucky happenstance and good ideas, Twilight had realized she might have a problem—but acknowledging it didn’t mean she felt like stopping. If anything, it only spurred her to new heights, and within a few days of even stranger searching and experiments, Twilight felt bored.

Then she had remembered dumpsters.

Which is what she had planned for her afternoon.

Whistling a soft tune to herself, Twilight cleared her plate into the compost bucket by the sink. She eyed the soggy eggs-hells inside, but shook her head and rinsed her plate promptly. No need to spoil her appetite.

With her breakfast abandon and behind her, Twilight left in search of her real, proper meal.

The alley itself was a blessing. Nevermind the fact that garbage was collected in such a large bin in the first place, but putting it out of the way as a necessity meant nopony was likely to come by. Nevertheless, Twilight spared a glance in either direction before she lifted the metal lid with a glow of purple.

The smell leapt at her instantly, strong enough to make her knees quiver. The sun had been out lately, and hot. The dumpster was like a giant metal cooking pot filled with a delicious gumbo waiting for Twilight’s attention.

Twilight peered over the edge of the container. The whole of its contents blurred into a single, amorphous entity, a blending together of broken furniture and used diapers and packaging and food and compost and simply garbage. It was perfect.

Twilight took another look around before heaving herself over the dumpster’s lid. She couldn’t believe how big it was. Surely, this was the treasure trove that had been in her dreams. She felt the soft, unsavoury crunch of the uneven base beneath her hooves, and reached out a foreleg against the warm metal to keep herself steady. Properly situated, she began to scan the heap for a likely looking candidate. There was so much to choose from...

But one jumped out at her almost immediately. It was too perfect.

It didn’t look like a brand she was familiar with—it might even be foreign, for all she knew. Vegetables didn’t have that look to them, even mulched into stew. Twilight’s foreleg shook as she reached towards the metal can, turning it to try and make out the label.

It felt full as she picked it up. As she held the label closer to her eyes, something at the can’s head moved.

It was open.

Twilight looked around, despite being shielded by the alley and the dumpster, and lifted the metal lid with a small lilac glow.

Oh.

There was stew inside. It had gone bad, there was no question. But, to someone else, for once other than Twilight, it had gotten very good. There was something else inside the can.

Maggots.

Twilight’s whole body shook as she removed the rest of the lid, setting it gently to the side of her body in case she wanted it later. Sure enough, there was an unfamiliar brown mixture inside the can, complete with chunks and blobs and bits of things Twilight had every inclination to believe were much more substantial protein sources than the grass she’d shovelled away after breakfast. And, there definitively in the form of something richer, were tiny white bodies wriggling on the surface of the mess. And throughout, no doubt. They were burrowing into the glop, squirming and searching for delicious rotting meat to sustain themselves.

Twilight held the can to her nose and inhaled deeply. The smell was no doubt strong enough to melt something inside her sense-receptors.

She had to. Of course she had to.

The whole of the can felt alive as Twilight raised it up. She couldn’t tell if it was the movement of its contents, or her own nervous shaking, or perhaps both. She tensed and closed her eyes as the metal neared her lips, then opened them a fraction of a second before tilting her head back. She pulled the can away and took a deep breath. Again, she brought it closer.

This time she kept her eyes closed. The metal was warm against her mouth. She could feel one of the maggots dancing on her lower lip.

The chunks and fetid juice slid inside her mouth, as too did their passengers. She took a full mouthful before beginning to chew.

Putrid. Rancid. Like juice-filled candies bursting on her teeth. And the smell filled every one of her senses. She could feel it oozing from her skin. She wouldn’t be clean for weeks. Her tongue was dead inside her mouth, soaking up every tantalizing inch of the disgusting flavour, the mucus-like texture, the bits and bobs and chunks and slimy, wriggling mush as it slid down her throat.

Without even touching herself, she felt it. Her legs gave out and she fell face first into the pile of garbage in front of her.

She heard the sound as she went too, like she was wetting herself. A stream, so thick, like a cream, began to drip from between her legs. She opened her mouth and then closed it in an instant, trying to keep herself quiet, muffling her noises in the pillow of filth and trash as she let the last bits of the maggot-stew into her stomach, and came, so hard. She could tell without looking that it was oozing from her, viscous, more substantial than it had ever been. She creamed on the hot metal floor of the dumpster, the maggots that were still alive shivering in perpetual confusion as they went down her esophagus. Her whole body writhed as they did, thrashing back and forth as she came. She shoveled another mouthful of the stew inside, and redoubled her orgasm, still no need for touching. She shook, and shivered, and came, choking on the rest of the can as she guzzled it, making sad slurping noises amidst the sudden crying that had overtaken her, the agony of her ecstasy, and the dripping still of juice from her cunt as she came.

She was certain then, with no doubt in her mind: there was no reason to confine herself to grass and vegetables when there was a whole world of delicious sensations to be explored.

Twilight Sparkle had not eaten a bird.

But, she might find one at some point, and what would happen next was anypony’s guess.

Rainbow Dash: blue pone is fightingest pone

The sound of a glass shattering drew attention from turning heads across the whole bar.

“Dash, what is your problem?”

Rainbow Dash slammed her hooves down on the counter next to the fragments of the bottle she had shattered and leaned forward, pressing her nose to the barkeeper before he pulled his head back. His whole face was knotted, while Dash’s was flushed. Her right eye was bruised, and her cheeks looks scuffed in one or two places. Not fresh marks, but there nonetheless.

“You’re my fucking problem. Gimme another whiskey before I have to break another bottle.”

Dash reached for a nearby bottle, but the pony on her other side quickly swept it away. She glared at him, and swayed slightly sideways before jerking herself steady again.

“Are you out of your mind? You’re way past your limit. Get outta here before I have to call the guard.”

“The guard are a bunch of dick-sucking unicorns who couldn’t catch me if I bent over and showed them the goods to get ‘em going. Gimme another whiskey or I’ll jump over there and take it myself.” Dash lurched over the counter and swung her forelegs wildly. In tandem, the two ponies on her sides pulled her back. The momentum of her reaching transferred to wild swings, and only by virtue of her drunkenness did the two ponies avoid her blows, dragging her backwards and throwing her onto the floor of the bar, feet away from the door.

“Out,” the bartender said. “Now. And don’t come back ‘till you’re sober.”

Dash looked up at the ponies in front of her with fire in her eyes. She sized them up, noting that each of the stallions was bigger than her, and probably the barkeep too. Their forelegs looked tense and muscled.

Picking herself up from the floor, Rainbow Dash spat solidly in the direction of the bartender. The glob of her saliva landed on the floor with a soft, wet sound.

“Well fuck you too then. Your loss.” Her words slurred noticeably at the end. Her body swayed as she turned to the door, and it took one or two tries for her to find the door. When she did, she waggled her ass defiantly in the direction of the two stallions, flicking her tail in the air before she walked outside.

The bartender sighed.

“What’s gotten into her?” one of the stallions piped up, taking a seat back at his bar-stool while his companion did the same.

“Yeah, since when does she even come by here? I’ve seen her around town a few times, but I didn’t know she was such a cunt.”

“Just lately,” the bartender said, grabbing a rag and beginning to wipe away the shards of bottle left on the counter. “And only when she gets a few whiskeys in her. Might have to cut her off.”

“She sounded like she was just looking for a fight,” the stallion on the left said.

“Well, she’s certainly going about it the right way then,” the bartender said. He emptied his cloth over the garbage can. The glass tinkled as it hit the bottom of the container.

It was dark. Rainbow Dash held herself up against the back wall of the bar with one hoof while standing on her hind legs. She didn’t bother to look around before she tensed and let a yellow stream flow from between her legs, hissing like an unkinked hose as it sprayed the ground and the corner where the bar’s wall met dirt. She let out as sigh as she relieved herself, shivering slightly as she shook off the last few drops.

“Are you serious? That’s disgusting. Can’t you at least wait until you get back home to do that?”

An unfamiliar voice came from a few feet away, closer to the end of the alley than Dash was. She stood on all fours before turning towards it, shaking a dash of her mane out of her eyes and blinking blearily to clear them.

“Oh, boo hoo. I woulda gone inside, but they kicked me out, so they get to pay the cleaning costs outside. If you’ve got a problem with it, why don’t you ask the guy inside how much of his dick you can suck?”

The voice’s source came closer in steps, padding softly on the ground as it came into the light. A brown earth-pony stallion with a black mane and an unhappy expression. Probably a good half a foot taller than Rainbow Dash. She raised an eyebrow at him as he stepped closer.

“You’ve got a pretty awful attitude,” he said. His voice was far from burly, but he spoke like he was gauging himself, keeping back an unnecessary bluster in the hopes that a simple sternness would be enough. Counter to his measured speech, Dash rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue between her teeth.

“Yeah, so what? Who are you, the attitude police?”

“I happen to be a retired soldier, so you might say that,” the colt said. Dash rolled her eyes again, which the stallion ignored. “And, as such, I happen to have a bit of respect for the city and its property, which you might do well to do as well.”

“Whatever,” Dash said, turning her head with a huffy breath. “I’ll just make sure to piss on the other side next time, in case you’re around.”

The stallion reached out and tapped Dash on the shoulder. The change in reaction was immediate; where an instant ago she had been aloof and unresponsive, Dash snapped to attention, her face immediately hardening as she swivelled her stare back in the earth-pony’s direction.

“Hey,” she said.

“You’re lucky I don’t go track down the guard to tell them you were defacing a public establishment. Get your act together or, next time I see you, I might have more than words with you.”

Dash blew a breath out through her nose and narrowed her eyes.

“Ooh, big guy, I’m so scared. What, are you gonna rub my shoulder again? I’m surprised they let a pussy like you into the army. Did you have to turn your dick inside out to get into the girl’s division, or did you just take it in the ass from enough commanding staff that they let you fill in as the squad cum-receptacle?”

The stallion’s eyes narrowed as Dash’s face broke into a grin. He stepped an inch closer, and Dash did the same, the space between them hotly condensing with less than a hoof spanning between their chests.

“You’d better watch your mouth,” the stallion said. “I’m not the type of pony who’s above hitting a mare.”

“Oh boy, lucky me.” Dash rolled her eyes again and breathed out into the stallion’s face, which he met, unblinking. “Please, you couldn’t knock the frosting off a cupcake. Keep your mouth shut unless you’re licking cock with it, and don’t pretend you’re gonna rough me up when I could make you kiss my ass with one hoof tied behind my back.” Rainbow Dash mimicked the shove she had been given earlier, but with a good deal more gusto, enough to send the stallion in a slight move to the side. He didn’t respond as he straightened his posture, but his eyes became sharper.

“Don’t do that,” he said. “Or I’m gonna make due on that promise from earlier.”

“Go for it,” Dash said, shoving him again. Both their bodies jostled, taking their standoff positions again after a second. Rainbow Dash’s face twisted into a taunting grin. “Come on, be a big boy for once. Rough me up so you can go home and tell your mom you beat up a girl.” Dash shoved the stallion again, and he stepped back for a second, leaving her at foreleg’s length.

“Come on!” Dash said again. She darted forward and shoved at the stallion again. He moved to dodge the blow, but Dash snaked her hoof towards his chest and found him full-force. “What, are you chicken now? Here, I’ll pretend to be a giant dick, you should be used to getting your hooves all over one of those...” Dash shoved at the stallion again, and this time he met with a shove of his own, hitting Rainbow Dash dead-center in the chest and pushing her back. A small breath escaped her lips as she moved backwards, and she wiped a hoof across her face.

“Nice shove, I’m real impressed. Are you gonna man up, or should I just let you drag your vagina somewhere else for the rest of the night?”

“Last warning,” the stallion said, sizing himself up and taking a posture that looked in every way more coordinated than Dash’s uneasy swaggering.

“Well, come on then, cocksleeve. Show me what you’ve got.” Dash shoved the stallion again.

The second her hoof connect with his chest, he swung. Faster than she’d been prepared for. The blow connected with the side of her head in slow-motion, pressing roughly against her jaw and cheek and sending her head in a sharp turn sideways. It took a moment for the momentum to catch up with her, at which point she staggered backwards, immediately raising a hoof to the side of her face, shaking slightly as she massaged the blow.

The stallion held one of his forelegs up with a defiant look in his eye.

After a few seconds, Rainbow Dash lowered her hoof from her face and spit. Only a trickle of red was in her saliva. She smiled at the stallion.

“Not even hard enough to knock a tooth out? What a pussy.”

The stallion charged at her then, and she met him with a similar posture, standing on her hind legs and swinging as he came into reach. But her aim was wide, and the stallion ducked under it, meeting Dash’s chest with a sharp jab. His hoof made a dull thud as it connected with skin and bone, and Rainbow huffed as she stumbled back, wheezing slightly as she attempted to breathe. The stallion didn’t wait—he moved and swung again, and Rainbow Dash half-blocked the blow, the rest of which grazed her cheek and shoved her back again.

A wetness graced Dash’s hoof as she lowered herself to all fours again, breathing heavily. The spot where she’d leaned against the wall.

But, as she tasted the blood in her mouth, she smiled.

She felt wet somewhere else too. That was the stuff.

“Come on,” she said, “is that it? You hit like your arms are sore from clopping off too much dick—”

Before she could finish, a hoof was against her face, a blow on the same side she’d taken her first punch. She stood up as a defense mechanism, trying to adopt a more defensive posture, but her limbs weren’t quick enough to help. The stallion rained blows on her, one in the stomach, two in the side, and one on the shoulder which she barely managed to turn from. Every time his hoof hit her, a small thud ran through her body. As tough as it was to stand under the force of the strikes, her body shivered in excess beyond that, her knees threatening to send her to the ground before she was done. The alcohol in her blood made everything tingle more. She felt hot, and her wings twitched on her back.

“Is... is that all you got?” she asked, huffing and tasting the pooling of red iron in her mouth.

The next blow came faster and harder than any before it. A third time, into the side of her face. This time, she heard it crack. The sound ran through her head, and with it the hard, hot breaking of bone as her jaw crooned in protest. She felt the spray of blood from her cheek over her tongue, and with it, the tiny moving piece of something being knocked loose from her head.

She had time to check with her tongue as the second hoof came, right into her stomach.

She was already cumming as she doubled over. The heavy smash into her gut knocked the wind out of her, as well as a fresh mouthful of blood, and with it her missing tooth, which tumbled on the red-coated ground as it flew from between her lips. The sound she made as she fell was a moan mixed among the low groan of being suddenly deprived of all air. She clutched at her stomach as she doubled up, fell, and shook, barely holding herself up on the ground as her pussy spasmed between her legs.

The stallion stood to her side, panting, but still composed. He stared at Dash as she wheezed, blood dripping thickly from her mouth, and unseen to him, the wetness of her climax dampening between her legs. Her lips felt raw and sensitive. The ache of the punches ran through her, the resonance of a blow so hard there could be nothing after it. She could feel the fervor that had moved through the stallion’s hooves, hauling back and letting go with pure abandon, letting every ounce of himself into a single strike. She could feel it as she closed her eyes, the ringing in her ears and the shiver of her aching jaw. The way her body threatened to collapse into a pool of her own blood, working her towards the residuals of another orgasm. The faint taste of whiskey on her tongue, amidst the extra blood as she had bitten down on it with the final blow, clenching as hard as she could while she came before her final thread of composure was taken from her with a swift slam to the gut.

The stallion didn’t say anything. He turned and walked down the alley, leaving Rainbow Dash on the ground, one hoof still in a puddle of her own piss, the others holding her swaying, aching body, bruised and battered and in the throes of a climax that had come as hard as the hook that had robbed her mouth of its tooth.

She closed her eyes and breathed out, then back in, slowly. After a few seconds, she managed to open her eyes again.

Shivering, she crawled forward and began to look for her tooth in the spray of blood across the dirt.

She had a whole mouthful more, minus the first one she had lost, at least. Tomorrow might be too soon, but after a few more days, everything should be fine.

Rarity: The Consummate Lady

The bell on the door of the Carousel Boutique jingled as Rarity closed it for the last time of the day. She turned a lock atop the handle to change the ‘open’ sign facing outside to ‘closed’, and let out a long sigh.

What a day.

It was one thing being the most talented seamstress in town—for that she had nopony to blame but herself—but it was entirely another thing to be also the busiest. One went hoof in hoof with the other, she supposed, but it didn’t leave her time for much else other than selling and sewing.

Maybe tonight she could take some time to relax.

Yes, that was a good idea, Rarity mused as she tidied up the last bits of the shop. As much as living where she worked sometimes caused a lack of separation in mind from personal life and business, it at least meant she didn’t have far to go when her evening was upon her. There was a nice, full-size bathtub only a minute away. She could spent an hour soaking, eating some of those nice imported chocolates Fluttershy had given her for her birthday, and then spend the remainder of the night lounging in her silk-sheets and mulling over a nice book.

She could...

No. She shouldn’t. She knew she shouldn’t. Draw the bath first, and that would wash away any unsavory thoughts about what to do with the rest of her evening.

Rarity smiled to herself as she walked to the bathroom. Yes, everything would feel much better after a nice bath. That was a certainty.

The steam wafting up from the bathtub wetted Rarity’s nose invitingly, and she breathed in the deep, refreshing ethereal scent of evaporated water before sloughing off her bathrobe. The water tingled against her hoof as she stepped into the bathtub, almost too hot, but not quite. She sighed as she slid forward into the deep pool of water, closing her eyes and leaning back, letting her well-coiffed mane hang just the ends into the water.

The water was heavenly. Rarity kept her eyes closed as she sunk deeper into the tub, until finally she was fully submersed, only the tip of her horn pointing above the water as she let the hot, relaxing feeling wash over every inch of her coat. It coaxed the tension from her sore hooves immediately, letting her feel like she was melting, or perhaps flying away on a cloud. She raised her head from the water and some of it cascaded down her face. Aside from the relaxing sensation, bathing always made her feel more like a lady. She kept her eyes closed and smiled as she imagined how beautiful she must look, lounging in her ornately built private paradise and letting her body lay bare for only herself to see.

If somepony was watching... if a gentlepony suitor was seated nearby, he’d no doubt be in a tussle with himself. Staring but caught up in wanting more, blustering and breathing heavy and drinking in every bit of her with his eyes. And, as he was watching, Rarity would let him know that she could see him too, nodding slowly as a lady did, but showing just a bit of herself above the water, perhaps turning to expose her hindquarters and giving him just a peek as she—

Rarity stopped herself, hoof firmly between her legs. She’d moved it without even thinking. Her eyes jerked open as she sat up in the bath, shaking her head and letting the drips of water fly from her nose back into the hot pool surrounding her.

There was no need to be thinking of things like that. She had the rest of her evening to relax, box of chocolates and novel besides, and she wasn’t about to ruin her perfect ladylike night by behaving so profanely.

She noticed then that she hadn’t moved her hoof. Her lips swelled against it, aching for her to move again.

With a start, Rarity hauled her forelegs above the water. She pulled the plug of the bath with a quick flash of her horn, and within an instant was out, drying herself off with a set of fluffy towels. Her bathrobe floated up to meet her as she shook her head off a final time, her mane returning to its natural wavy bob.

Yes, chocolate next. It would go well with her book, and a good plot would leave no room in her head for bothersome wanderings. Smiling to herself, Rarity left the bathroom and made her way to bed, where her book and a box of imported chocolate were waiting for her.

The silk sheets were almost as wonderful as the bath had been. Rarity cooed as she settled into them, snuggling up against her delicate pillows. The box of chocolates was to her right, finding its own little space against the blankets. Even from looking at them, the chocolates seemed exquisite: far more intricate and well-made than anything in Ponyville, certainly. It wasn’t that Pinkie didn’t try, bless her soul, but Rarity had more elegant tastes. She was glad Fluttershy had a good eye for these things as well.

Settling up against her headboard with pillows resting under the small of her back, Rarity lifted a chocolate from the box with a glow of her horn. She held it in the air as she picked up her book: The Tempest of the Stallion Shores. She’d left it halfway several nights ago and hadn’t had the time to come back to it. It was a bit cliche, yes, but she had a soft spot for those lovely romantic tales, where passion was everything, and she could lose herself. Taking a bite of her chocolate—salted on top, with a fruit-garnish inside, delicious—Rarity turned to her bookmarked page and began to read.

Ah, yes, this part. At last, the two lovers had been brought together when separated by so much circumstance, and could finally be free of their society’s oppression. Truly, love was a beautiful thing.

Rarity munched on another chocolate—a truffle, by the taste of it. As she read, she shuffled slightly under the blankets, wiggling in her bathrobe. It seemed a tad too hot to leave on, but she was so comfortable, she didn’t really care to adjust herself any further. And this part of the book was so good. Here, the stallion and the mare came into each other’s embrace, and shared their first kiss, and then their second, and third...

As Rarity read on, she reached the part her bookmark had truly dictated, and remembered the last time she’d put the book down.

Well, that sort of thing was natural in these kind of novels. It had to be left in for the less discerning audiences, ponies who had no flare for romance and simply wanted something to amuse themselves with. Rarity skimmed over a few sentences before setting the book down and eating another chocolate.

She could skip past it, if need be. Though... there was a certain, awful thrill to reading it. It made her remember her own lover, many summers ago, when he had swept her off her feet and brought her into a world of bliss...

Oh. And there it was again. Rarity clenched her hindlegs together as she noticed her hoof between them. The softness of her bathrobe was slick against her stomach, and she lifted it out of the way absentmindedly as she began to run her hoof down again, slowly, gently between her legs.

Well... surely there was no harm in indulging herself a little. It would certainly help her get to sleep, in any case. And she had such a fond memory to go back to. Her first lover, whom she had adored more than anything...

Rarity bit down on her lower lip as her hoof moved, touching lightly against the most sensitive part of her body just above her rapidly moistening marehood. There was no need to rush, she had all night.

She remembered everything about him still, including how much it had hurt to lose him. How in every conduct, he had been the perfect gentlepony, waiting on her steadfastly, reading, in every instance, her demure nature, and how yes, it was important that they wait, that she wasn’t ready yet, but that she would be in time. He had been so nice, waiting, until finally, they had...

She remembered him. She couldn’t forget. That night, when they had become one, and Rarity had called his name next to the word love more times than she could count. She would remember that moment forever. She had refused to forget.

Rarity opened her eyes. They fell on the bottom drawer of her bedroom dresser, partially obscured across the room next to a layout of pillows and fancy carpeting.

She had been very insistent on remembering that night.

Rarity’s horn glowed and the drawer slid open, displacing several pillows in the process. With a soft shuffle, a wooden box flew forth from the drawer, the drawer closing shortly thereafter. Rarity lowered the box to the side of the bed, resting it gently next to the chocolates.

He had been so wonderful. She never wanted to forget him.

It was just as well then, that she had kept it. He was gone now, and there was no question about if ever he might return. He had been very insistent on that. Rarity sniffed up a tear as her horn glowed, opening a fine clasp on the front of the wooden box and pulling it open.

There. It. Him. That night.

She knew it was awful. Shameful, really, most unladylike to keep something so crass. But, in another way, it was very sweet of her, like a proper mare, doting on her stallion as much as he would let her. More than he would let her. It showed that, no matter what, she really and truly did love him, forever.

Rarity removed her hoof from between her legs and replaced it with her other. With her newly freed foreleg, damp at the end, she reached towards the box’s contents. Her foreleg shook as she touched it and lifted it up.

It was a very good brand. She had been sure of that. A night of firsts meant only the best.

The bit of him was still inside. Oh.

Rarity sighed as she raised the condom towards her. It was worn now, yellowing from age, if not from sunlight. She had been very careful to keep it hidden away, keeping it free from dust and debris and other such things that might make it unduly unclean. Still, there was only so long semen could last inside plastic, and as a result the whole of it had begun to sour. Her stallion’s essence, once, as she recalled, the purest white, now matched the shade of the condom and then some. Brown in spots, mostly yellow in others. It had a smell like a garbage truck.

But it was his smell.

Rarity bit her lip, then parted her mouth and inhaled deeply.

She could feel herself soak her silk sheets as the scent wafted across her palette. Her hoof abandoned its gentleness and began to rub, harder, circling around her clit and sliding up and down her rapidly moistening lips.

It was the one and only thing she had kept from him. She wasn’t sure, if faced with the choice of more, if she would have kept them in a similar fashion, but he’d taken the leisure of that decision from her. This was all he had left her...

She remembered the day he left. Standing in the doorway, cursing, her crying, and him saying how long he had waited. How patient he had been, and then for what? For months afterwards of nothing more? Things were supposed to be different after the first time. Rarity had screamed, protested, didn’t he understand he was a lady, and what that meant.

He had told her that she was no lady, and shut the door in her face, never to walk inside again.

But that wasn’t what she wanted to remember him for.

Rarity licked her lips. They were wet with her saliva as she pressed the condom to her mouth. She could taste it even without her tongue, the scent so powerful it covered every one of her senses. Her hoof began to schlick obscenely between her legs, but she blocked it out. There was no ‘now’’; there was only him, and that night, when she had given herself up completely, and the bit of him that would be hers forever to remember it.

She extended her tongue and licked along the aged plastic. The taste leapt down her throat, and her marehood clenched against her hoof. Oh, yes. She could remember him. How, even though it had hurt, she had loved every moment of it.

Wasn’t that enough, she had ask?

“I love you, dear,” she moaned to herself, to him, repeating the words that had graced her lips innumerable times, mumbling it into the flapping plastic against her lips. “You k-know that, d-don’t you?” Her words faltered as she rubbed, harder, frantic against herself, so wet she knew the bed must be soaked.

“Isn’t that... enough?” she asked, eyes closed, a trickle of tears leaking out. Tasting him on her tongue. She raised the condom and took a part of it into her mouth, sucking. A tiny hint of him, just for tonight. She needed it.

A bit of the brownish-yellow glob oozed up out of the distended prophylactic and onto her tongue. Rarity moaned loud, and caught the condom with her free hoof as it fell from her mouth.

“Don’t you... love me too?” she asked, half-sobbed. The tears had started in earnest now, but that was fine, she had cried the first time too, and that was fine also, because he knew it meant she loved him, of course she loved him, she would never stop loving him, couldn’t forget how much she loved him...

Rarity’s body shuddered as she came. Her hoof froze between her legs, and the sour musk of her once-lover’s load trickling down her throat as she drenched her silk-sheets and hoof next to them. The taste of salted chocolate mixed with the years-old cum, and became almost vaguely sweet in her stomach.

Her chest heaved as she breathed, loud and heavy. Hoof shaking, she set the condom back in its case. Her other hoof shook as well as she drew it up from between her legs, her well-shorn fetlock dripping with the juice of her climax. She raised it to her mouth for a moment, her lips parting in contemplation—but an instant away, her eyes snapped open, seeming to remember, and she pulled her hoof away.

No, that was enough. No need to be unladylike.

With a curt snap the case was shut, and Rarity’s horn glowed as she floated it back to its drawer. She adjusted the pillows shortly thereafter, nestling them in place to shelter the compartment from attention.

That was enough relaxing for one night, most likely. She felt very tired. With a yawn, Rarity lifted the box of chocolates to her bedside table and replaced her bookmark on the page she had left off on. Maybe she’d return to it another night, when she was feeling more together.

Her bed was damp as she flicked the light off. With her eyes closed, she shuffled sideways, jostling neatly into place where the chocolates had been. Where, in her bed, there was a place for a second pony, but where always now there was one.

He’d fit so nicely there, too.

The sound of crying filled the room in the darkness. The taste of semen lingered faintly on Rarity’s lips as she licked them clean of her tears, tasting a mix of jizz, chocolate, and salt-water. After a few minutes of weeping she was well and truly exhausted, and sleep came.

It was perfectly alright to cry, after all, when remembering somepony she loved. A very normal thing to do. Quite ladylike, really.

Pinkie Pie: Everypony Gets to Play

“Just an order of a dozen cupcakes please, Pinkie.”

The mare at the counter was one Pinkie was familiar with: her brown, done-up-in-a-bun mane and weary eyes were a fixture of the second Wednesday of every month. Pinkie usually had her order ready to go before she arrived, and today was no exception.

“Here you go!” Pinkie beamed brightly as she held out the pink box housing the mare’s order. The mare smiled softly behind her perpetually frazzled face and took the box with her left hoof, using the other to leave a few bits on the counter. Pinkie scooped them up and threw them into the register’s compartment hidden just out of sight.

“Thank you, Pinkie. You’re a sweetheart.”

“Don’t mention it!” Pinkie bounced on her hind legs and smiled the same way she always smiled. The mare smiled back at her and turned towards the door.

“See you next week!” Pinkie shouted. The mare waved a free hoof over her shoulder as she left, and Pinkie waved back, still smiling.

“Pinkie!” Mr. Cake’s voice came from the kitchen, faint and far-away sounding even though he couldn’t be further than a few feet. That probably meant he was working with something in a cupboard.

Sure enough, as Pinkie peeked her head around the corner of the kitchen, Mr. Cake was head-first into the place where most of the cupcake dishes were—or, where they were supposed to be. He was rifling through them in an agitated fashion, his entire upper body hidden by the spacious cupboard.

“Pinkie,” he said, his tone ringing of a slight annoyance “do you know where the rosette maker is? I could have sworn I put it back here last night...”

“You did, but then Mrs. Cake told me to wash it, so I did!” Pinkie bobbed back and forth, smiling at the oblivious Mr. Cake. As her words drifted through the wood of the cupboard, Mr. Cake’s hooves paused, and his posture shifted as he sat up out of Pinkie’s view.

“Well,” he said, “could you bring it to me?”

“Sure thing!”

Pinkie bounded over to the sink and found the utensil Mr. Cake was looking for after only a moment, remembering where she had seen it from the day before.

Mr. Cake held out his hoof from the cupboard, waiting blindly for Pinkie to hand him the rosette maker.

His head was hidden by the cupboard.

Pinkie didn’t bother to look around; she knew Mrs. Cake was upstairs taking her afternoon nap, and unless Mr. Cake’s cutie mark had changed, he hadn’t learned how to see through wood.

Spreading her legs wide, Pinkie took the rosette maker firmly in her hooves and placed it just beneath her rump. She tensed and wiggled a bit from side to side as she ran the tip of it between her legs. Her perpetual smile turned to a lip-bite as the rose-maker slid past her lower lips, the tip of it reaching her stomach as the rest followed.

Her smile returned, and she planted the object solidly in Mr. Cake’s hoof.

“Here you go!”

“Thank you, Pinkie.” Mr. Cake put the rosette maker in place in the cupboard and began collecting the rest of the dishes he had displaced in order to find it. About half-way through, he stopped again.

“Wasn’t that what I was looking for in the first place...”

Pinkie left him to his ponderings, bouncing out of the kitchen and up the stairs. She got to her room in a short time, and shut the door quietly behind herself. There was no pony here to check for.

Pinkie fell forward into her bed with her hoof already between her legs, flying franticaly over her wetness. She had dripped on that rosette maker, that was sure, and now she was practically soaking.

But she wasn’t there yet.

Pinkie scanned around her room for a few seconds, then sighed. There was nothing here of interest. Everything was hers. Pulling herself up from the bed, her hoof still occasionally squeezing her marehood, Pinkie leered out the window. It was a nice, sunny day, only a few spots of overcast, and Ponyville was taking advantage of it. From her room on the second floor, Pinkie could see children playing, old couples taking walks, and the open carriage that ran mostly for children and elderly folks making one of its many circuits through town.

The store was busy today too. She shouldn’t be spending time upstairs.

The ring of the store bell carried up curtly, even from all the way downstairs. Pinkie reluctantly withdrew her hoof from between her legs and dashed downstairs, arriving in seconds behind the counter.

Another regular. A stallion with a tall hat and orange coat. One loaf of rye bread.

Pinkie smiled as she handed the loaf over and took the stallion’s bits. He gave her a polite nod, which she returned with slightly more enthusiasm. She waited until he was gone before doing a quick scan of the store to make sure nopony else was there.

They were very busy today.

Pinkie sidled up to the door with a conspiratory hesitation in her steps. She knew she had checked, and that nopony could be watching. She kind of wished they were... but this would be a better payoff in the long run.

The cool metal of the door handle sent shivers along her spine as she rubbed herself on it. Nice and wet. She could hear the faint squeaking of the knob as it slid between her lips. After a few seconds of grinding, she pulled off and gave the handle a quick wipe to remove any immediately evident wetness. She also raised her hoof to her mouth and sucked, tasting herself on it. The bell jostled slightly as the door jerked with her movement, and she felt a shot of adrenaline rush through her veins, even though she knew nopony was walking inside yet. Nopony had seen her.

Pinkie returned to the counter and waited. After a few minutes, the bell rang again. She hadn’t gotten the outside handle. Too risky.

“Hello,” the new customer said. A younger colt, probably not old enough to be in high school yet. He looked a little pudgy, and had a pair of glasses on.

“Hi there!” Pinkie smiled cheerfully at him behind the counter. She could have recognized him after a few minutes of thinking, if she wasn’t distracted. But she was. Very.

“Can I, uh... do you guys have any pastries?”

“Do we? We’ve got a ton of them! Take a look here.” Pinkie gestured to the glass display counter, lined with a heavy stock of every sweet-treat confectionary under the sun. The glass was clear, and gave a good view of the store’s various pastries and other stocks.

But it didn’t show behind the counter. Pinkie braced herself against the high glass barrier and stood on her hindlegs. She scanned behind her back. Mr. Cake was nowhere to be seen. Mrs. Cake hadn’t woken up yet.

As the colt leaned close to the counter, browsing the selection, Pinkie began to touch herself. Only a foot away from him, and he was none the wiser.

Pinkie bit her lip as she felt a trickle of juice run down her leg.

“What’s that?” the colt asked, gesturing to a fancy-looking chocolate item on the left.

Pinkie blinked and withdrew her teeth from her lip. But she didn’t move her hoof. She rubbed harder.

“That? Oh, that’s, um... I think that’s a chocolate gourmet eclair.” Pinkie held herself firmly against the counter as her hoof worked. It made a faint schlicking sound as it slid back and forth over her moistness, and she cringed and swallowed a moan as she forced her movement to slow, eliminating the almost imperceptible noise.

“Hmmm... I’ll have one of those, I guess.”

Pinkie waited a few seconds before forcing her hoof away. She dropped to all fours and slid the back of the cabinet open. Before she pulled the pastry out, she looked over the counter again. The colt nodded at her, as if to say ‘that one’.

Pinkie grabbed it with the hoof that had been between her legs.

“Do you want it for here, or to go?” she asked. She could see the tiniest drop of moisture on the surface of the eclair, dripped from her hoof.

“To go, I guess,” the colt said. Pinkie nodded at him and darted to the back drawer. She grabbed a small paper bag and put the eclair inside, then handed it over the counter.

“Three bits, please,” she said. She could smell herself in the air.

The colt didn’t seem to notice. He handed placed his bits on the counter, and Pinkie swept them up and tossed them into the changebox.

“Thanks,” the colt said.

“No problem. Enjoy!” Pinkie waved at the colt as he turned towards the exit. Waved to him with her clean hoof. Tensed her other between her legs as she saw him step towards the door. Reach towards the door. Touch the door. Handle.

Pinkie ducked under the counter as the bell rang, panting. Her hoof was a blur, squishing frantically over her clit, rubbing so hard, he’d touched it, he was taking it with him, tasting her, oh, she needed it so bad but she didn’t think it would be enough...

It wouldn’t. Pinkie snapped up from the counter and looked around. The store was busy today, but it was a little after noon.

“Mr. Cake,” Pinkie called, already moving to the door. “I’m going to take my lunch break now. I’ll be back in a bit, okay?”

“What?”

Mr. Cake’s voice faded in Pinkie’s ears as she exited Sugar Cube Corner, the bell tinkling to herald her departure.

Where?

She couldn’t in front of everypony, even though she wanted to, so badly wanted to. They’d have to see her then. She didn’t think she could take it. Her legs were already shaking.

Pinkie scanned around in either direction. Children playing on that side of the road. Naughty, awful, terrible, but she wanted to. On the other side, the old couple had gone, walking on to who-knows-where.

Pinkie heard the tumble of the carriage wheels over the ground.

Of course.

She darted to the cart’s next stop. It was on its way south, which meant a return trip would be around in twenty minutes. Pinkie wasn’t the only able-bodied mare waiting at the stop, but the other was with her children, holding several bags of groceries and looking very frazzled. She gave Pinkie a nod, which Pinkie returned with a smile.

When the mother looked away, Pinkie ground her hindlegs together.

There were a few ponies on the carriage as it apprpoached. Two older stallions, one seated on each  side. The mother boarded first, hauling her two foals with her and finding a seat on one side. Pinkie took one next to the other old stallion. After waiting a few seconds to ensure nopony else was there, the carriage-leader stallion neighed and took off, pulling the transport behind him in a slow trot.

She’d have to be careful. Those foals might notice her.

No, they looked mostly asleep, and the mother was too tired to pay attention to anything.

Pinkie looked to the old stallion on her left. He might notice.

That was fine.

Pinkie’s hoof found its familiar place between her hind legs, sheltered by the tossed up hay that lined the carriage. It was an open, simple mode of transport, which meant none of the fancy guilding or interior of a Canterlot carriage. Ponyville was an earth pony town, which meant earth pony contrivances. That was fine by Pinkie. The hay could soak up a lot of moisture.

Gosh, was she wet. She hoped the carriage wheels would cover up the sound of her rubbing.

She knew, as she touched herself, that it was wrong. There were two inoccent, impressionable foals seated right across from her. In an instant, either of them could wake up and, staring open mouthed, ask what the pink mare was doing with her hoof, why she was touching herself there. The mother could collected herself past the remnants of her weary day and scream at the sight being displayed to her children. Either one of the old stallions could turn and, with their ailing eyesight, get their first glimpse of a healthy, eager marehood, being mercilessly pummelled by Pinkie’s attention. They could stare at her as she rubbed her pussy.

Oh, she was there, so close.

She couldn’t just do it like this. Pinkie looked around, searching for something to muffle her voice with. She knew she had to say something. She always did. Couldn’t keep it in.

There was no one nearby but the stallion next to her.

Hoof still between her legs, shivering, holding it in but just barely, Pinkie leaned into him. The old coot opened his eyes, as though he had been dozing in the mid-daytime, and looked towards Pinkie, puzzling over the odd, contorted expression on her face. Pinkie brought her mouth right next to his ear. She tensed, and her voice eked out between her lips as her hoof froze.

“I’m cumming,” she whispered to the stallion.

And she did. She heard the sound running through herself, like she was a faucet turned on over the hay. She hoped the wheels were loud enough, but didn’t really care. She couldn’t care. Her insides felt like they were melting.

The stallion cleared his throat and blinked.

“Whassat?” he said.

Pinkie hugged him. She hugged him while she came. Still cumming, she leaned into him, resting her side on his, resting her legs just next to him, wetting herself with arousal, so much that she was sure some must be on him as well, and the hay beneath, and of course, because he couldn’t hear her, he would get up and wonder if he’d had an accident, and Pinkie would be gone then, leaving only the scent of her climax and the quivering of her body and gosh she was cumming so hard she didn’t ever want it to stop but then it did.

Pinkie gasped and let go of the stallion. She smiled as she sat up again.

“Sorry,” she said. “You just looked like you could use a hug!”

The stallion narrowed his brow as he worked out her words, then smiled as they sunk in. He mumbled something Pinkie couldn't understand.

She got off at the next stop. Nopony on the carriage gave her a second glance.

She’d have to clean the door-handle when she got back to work. Another few ponies leaving would put her in another state, and there was still the whole rest of the day to go.

Applejack: A Weighty Compulsion

The bed creaked as Applejack stood atop it. She cursed the sound under her breath, but realized in doing so that the creak was no more admission of anything she was doing than the act itself. She might be loud then, but she couldn’t tell. If she cared, she wouldn’t be doing it in the first place.

As she fastened the rope on the support-beam overhead, she thought about the first time.

She always thought about the first time.

Hot. It had been hot, she remembered. She remembered being hot too. She had been burning up all day, inside and out. When the season came on, it wasn’t polite to talk about, so she hadn’t, and didn’t, and wouldn’t. Big Mac could tell because he’d been around for it enough, but like a gentlepony, he said nothing. He didn’t imply Applejack was at the subject of her hormones too much to get any work done; he just gave her a nod and headed off to his own part of the farm, leaving Applejack to do the same on the other side.

The sweat had poured in gallons that day.

She had just finished her lunch, she remembered. There was a likely looking tree she had been eyeing for the past hour as she approached it, working her way methodically from one apple-payload to the next. Filling buckets and loading them into the cart. She had seen that tree and immediately wanted to give it a good kick.

The season should have been her first indication that listening to her instincts might be a bad idea.

Every kick that day had sent a little jolt through her. She told herself she would ignore it, but that was a lie. Every time the shiver ran from her nethers through the rest of her body as her legs flew backwards, she closed her eyes and breathed hard and thought about how good it would feel to get home and wring out a day’s frustration with her teeth around her pillow.

When her legs connected with the tree she had waited for all day, it gave in a way that was unfamiliar. The cracking noise was unfamiliar too.

By the time she’d spun around, it was in slow motion. Maybe her reflexes were dulled by the other things occupying her mind. She’d tried to dart away, but there was no way she could have moved in time. She couldn’t, so she didn’t. The noise her leg made as the tree landed on it was very similar to the sound the tree had made when Applejack kicked it.

Her ribs were much quieter. Further diagnoses had revealed they were not broken, but she wouldn’t know that for another day.

She had barely made a sound, surprisingly. Just the hiss of breath through her teeth as the tree slowly pushed her downwards. The ground was soft for a moment before it was firm against her chest, the tree pushing on her like a brick wall into another brick wall.

She couldn’t breathe.

She almost couldn’t breathe. The pain in her leg and every other part of her gave her veins enough lightning to remain conscious, and that meant she could wiggle just a little forward. Just a little out of the tree’s crushing grasp, which freed enough of her lungs to suck in a tiny, precious mouthful of air. Air that she swallowed up through the stinging fire in her chest.

She couldn’t shut her eyes, because she knew then it would be over. She couldn’t stop breathing, no matter how bad it was, no matter how much it hurt, and Celestia did it hurt. It was the worst pain she’d ever felt.

It was mixed with the tingle. The sensation, throughout her whole body, of tiny fireworks running underneath her skin. Of the spot between her legs burning. Of the blood from her broken leg mixing with her juices that poured like a fountain underneath the tree.

She couldn’t call for help. She could barely open her mouth to breathe. She couldn’t move; her leg wouldn’t become usable for weeks, and her ribs creaked like an old ship in storm every time her chest rattled them. Every time she sucked in just enough oxygen to keep herself conscious, her body screamed and spasmed.

She couldn’t.

But her one hoof was pinned low under her stomach. Low enough to wiggle lower.

Fuck. She came everywhere. All over herself.

That was all she could do. There was no telling how long it would be before Big Mac found her. She couldn’t call to him. He did find her, eventually, and by that point she was so dehydrated from getting herslef off that she could barely peel her tongue from the roof of her mouth. When Big Macintosh pulled her out, he didn’t comment on how the whole lower half of her body was soaked. Maybe he imagined she’d wet herself when the tree came down. Maybe he knew, and was just being polite.

She always remembered that first time.

After she recovered, she tried to put it out of her mind. The lingerings of the season were gone, and it was time to return to work, once she’d convinced the doctor and her family that she was feeling better. It was the summer then, so hot at night. She’d snuck out one day to get away from the sauna that was her room. It brought her around back of the house, to the trees.

She’d looked over one, running her hoof against its bark like it reminded her of something.

She felt the tiniest tremble of a tingle.

But she couldn’t do it. The farm needed her. Her family needed her. And yes, it had been amazing, but not worth it. What if her leg hadn’t healed? The best she’d ever felt. She would have died happy.

As she stood under the tree, her eyes found a branch. A likely looking bogh.

She always had her rope on her. It wouldn’t give the crush, but maybe, around her neck...

She told herself it was stupid even as she wound it. Applejack, you idiot. What are you doing. You’re insane. If somepony finds you here, you’ll never live it down. Try it on to see how it feels and that’s it. Don’t pull it tighter. Well, if you’re gonna pull it tighter, make sure you did your knot right. Let it at least get around there proper. Tighter than that, at least, so you can feel it. Squat down a bit maybe, there that’s enough and your eyes aren’t working quite right anymore are they cause it’s like a hoof on your throat yours is between your legs isn’t you can’t stand up is that ‘cause of the breathing or the touching you’d better not stop either it’s not quite like then getting dark but the tree hit it just like that.

Applejack’s eyes had flown open when her hoof hit bark. A sharp, throbbing agony ran up her foreleg. She couldn’t break it, she knew, but her body was telling her too. She smashed her hoof against it a second time with the last gasp of breath she had, and came, spurted, soaked the ground, squatted like a filly relieving themselves in the woods, which was what she was doing, really. She almost passed out. Her hooves were shaking as she undid the rope, barely coherent enough to remove the intricate knot.

She fell against the tree for a while and just breathed: slow, calm breaths.

She remembered the first time then too.

The creaking might give her away. She told herself not to thrash, but that was an inevitability. Her brother would think she was tossing and turning in bed maybe. Applebloom might think that. Maybe what her brother thought would be more on point. If he knew, he had never said anything. Applejack didn’t think he knew. Maybe he was just being polite.

Applejack stuck her tongue out between her teeth as she fastened the last part of the knot and slid it over her head.

There were no trees here. Smashing her hooves against the wall would be suspicious, and damaging.

The small steel object glinted in the low lamplight as she slid it out from under her pillow. She quickly flipped the lamp off. It was better when it was dark. She didn’t want to open her eyes and see anything. The colour would sent red flashes through her vision, and she might lose what little control was left. Better to be in the dark.

Had to be careful. Farm work was rough, but marks in plain sight were ones somepony would notice. Joints, crevices, underneath, inside. Those were the places. The first time she went too deep and hit a nerve. Shallower now. But Celestia, did she want it deep.

Applejack pulled the rope tighter. Her throat seized as the loop caught around her windpipe. Uneasily, with her hooves, she placed the razor along the inside of her hind right leg, right next to her slit.

She pressed down and pulled her head forward in the same motion.

The way it went into her skin was too smooth. It made her want to push and smash and hammer it so far inside her leg would twitch of its own accord, unusable and spurting blood everywhere over her bed. She shook as the thought went through her head, but stayed steady. Had to be careful. Getting less air now. Almost none.

Applejack made a throaty choking sound as she felt both liquids pour down her legs.

She moved a hoof there. Forgot to put the razor down. Didn’t care.

It hurt. Fuck, it hurt, fuck it—already, fuck.

The razor blade made a light, airy sound as she tossed it onto her pillow. When her hoof returned to her cunt, her body screamed at her like her foreleg was on the burner. It hurt, sore and sliced and she could feel a tear there, blood and so much else, she rubbed. She choked against her restraint and rubbed harder. Close to blacking out now. If she fell, she would fall backwards. Right onto the blade.

It was just like that first time. Like it and nothing like it. She wanted it back so bad, why hadn’t they left her there. Let her go until she died, let that season be her last, let them come the day after and dependable hard-working Applejack would be a drenched corpse covered in her own juices for them to find. She’d be in season in death, let them pull the tree off her and have her organs spill out, free from the tree’s sustaining compression. Her hole on display, let her brother see it and take notice like he hadn’t, she was in season and he was polite, but there’d be no need, let her have the final throes of life as her heart stopped while she was being filled with her brother’s cock, with any stallion’s cock, they could all come and see her, fill her up the way she had emptied herself in want of one of them, the way she had spilled her pussy-juice and then her guts when she was let go, she was the forest floor, she was the dirt beneath it and lower than that, she wanted it so bad to be nothing that was why because she was nothing she was hurt like a tool whipping herself against branches slicing herself up like an apple peeled into pieces cutting herself no one would want her she didn’t herself fuck it was strong let her be quiet let him hear let him run inside let him coat the wall in himself like she had almost coated the ground of the field fuuuuuuuck

Applejack’s legs shook. The creak of her windpipe in her ears was the note. She came again, drenching her hoof already covered in red. Fuck.

She hung there for a few more seconds before pulling back. The gasp that came was louder than the creak of the bed had been. Applejack fell into the blankets, avoiding the sharp piece of metal on her pillow, letting it fall to the side. She buried her face in the pillow and dripped all over her sheets. She was spent.

In the room over, Big Mac turned to his side and wiped his hooves on the bed-sheets. It was like glue. Too sticky. He always forgot to bring something to clean up.

He couldn’t say anything, of course. It was only polite.

Fluttershy: Daddy's Girl

It was a sunny Sunday, which made Fluttershy happy. The grass outside was nice and green, the sky was blue, and the flowers in her garden were swaying with the gentle summer breeze like a line of softly waving fillies, wishing her a good morning, Miss Fluttershy. She giggled at the idea, then quickly scanned around to make sure nopony was watching and gave the flowers a tiny wave back.

It was a wonderful day.

Fluttershy hummed to herself as she flew low to the ground, drifting along the garden at the side of the house. She floated cheerfully until she made her way to the backyard, where, on a day like today, all her animal friends would be playing.

The sun was the perfect accompaniment to the scene. At the edge of her backyard clearing, next to the trees that made up the start of the forest, two squirrels were snickering at each other and darting up and down the branches of a nearby oak. There was a great brown bear resting amidst some dandelions, snoring softly as the sun washed over him. Chickens ambled about, clucking and fluffing their feathers as they walked. And there, half-asleep on a small rock, was Angel Bunny, an adorable ball of white fluff that made Fluttershy’s heart squeak when she saw him.

The noise of her wings was soft under the low breeze, but it must have been loud enough for Angel to hear with his big ears, because he opened his eyes and stared mutely towards Fluttershy as she came closer, eventually landing at the foot of his rock.

“Good afternoon, Angel,” she said sweetly, smiling at him. “It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?”

Angel shrugged.

“It’s just so nice. Everything outside is wonderful, it’s so bright and cheerful...” Fluttershy trailed off and looked up towards the sky, raising her forelegs into the air as though she might catch the flow of the sunlight as it poured down from the sky.

Angel blinked, then lied back down on his rock. Fluttershy spun to him with a smile still on her face.

“I was thinking,” she started, coming closer to Angel and leaning down towards him “that maybe we could spend some time together on such an amazing afternoon?”

Angel opened one eye, but said nothing. His mouth remained downturned in the bitter sameness he always wore. Fluttershy continued smiling, undaunted.

“I was hoping you might like to come inside and play with me for a bit?”

Angel sprung up from his reclined position and was on his hindlegs immediately. He shook his head at Fluttershy and hopped, heading up into the air and off into the distance.

Fluttershy’s hoof caught him mid-air and pulled him close to her chest.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. Ooh, we can play ‘house’. Isn’t that your favorite?”

Angel shook his head emphatically as Fluttershy held him to her chest. Though he thrashed and struggled, Fluttershy’s grip was firm, and she held him in place as she flapped her wings and drifted slowly back to the front door of her house.

“Now now,” she said, landing and opening the door with Angel still struggling against her hold. “I know you can be a bit grouchy sometimes, but you can’t fool me. Once we’ve been playing for a few minutes, I know you’ll remember how much fun you have.”

Angel shook his head extra hard. Fluttershy hummed to herself as she walked inside and shut the door. She made a beeline for the living room, where she set Angel down on the old orange couch that made up the room’s centerpiece. Angel tensed to spring away immediately, but Fluttershy turned his head in her direction.

“Angel,” she said. “Come on. Don’t you want to play with me?”

Angel shook his head, his eyes cold and black.

Fluttershy pouted at him.

“But I’ll give you a nice, juicy carrot aftewards.”

Head shake.

“Please?”

Head shake.

Fluttershy sighed.

“Alright then,” she said. “If you don’t want to play, I guess I’ll just have to remind you how much fun it is.”

Angel was already jumping by the time Fluttershy kneeled next to him, but her reflexes were quick again, and she grabbed the bunny out of midair with a hoof and planted him firmly on the couch, squishing him between two cushions up to his waist. Angel closed his eyes and turned his head to the side, but Fluttershy turned it back almost effortlessly, forcing Angel’s eyes into hers.

Her wide, piercing eyes.

Fluttershy stared at Angel for a few seconds until his thrashing settled.

She stared at him for a few more seconds.

“Now, Angel,” she said, her voice calm and stern. “You wouldn’t want to be a selfish bunny and turn down your dear friend Fluttershy’s simple, itty-bitty request for just a bit of playtime, would you?”

Slowly, Angel shook his head, his eyes blank.

“You don’t mind playing ‘house’ with her for just a little bit, do you?” Fluttershy stared still.

Angel shook his head again.

Fluttershy blinked and smiled. She gave Angel a pat on the head. Angel blinked blearily at the hoof between his ears, but made no effort to remove himself from between the couch cushions. After a few seconds, Fluttershy pulled him free and set him down atop them, where he remained quietly. Fluttershy giggled with a hoof over her mouth.

“Very good, Angel. Now, remember: you’re the strong, working husband, and I’m your doting wife who you’ve come home to after a day at work, okay?”

Angel nodded slowly.

Still smiling, Fluttershy closed her eyes for a second. She took a long, deep breath, then opened them with a beaming grin.

“Oh, honey, you’re home! I’m... I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you so early. I don’t have dinner ready yet...”

Fluttershy bit her lip at Angel, who remained still on the couch a few feet away. Fluttershy batted one of her wings on her back and stared at the ground.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “Just... give me a minute and I’ll get it started, okay?”

Angel blinked.

“Oh!” Fluttershy held a hoof to her mouth, her eyes wide. “I’m sorry, I forgot... my makeup! I’ll be right back.”

With a blur of feathers, Fluttershy disappeared from the living room. The bathroom door ratltled as she zoomed past it.

Makeup. Makeup was important. Didn’t he deserve something nice to look at when he came home? She couldn’t even have dinner on the table, she should at least be easy on the eyes. Wear some makeup, that’s what it’s for. He wasn’t working all day to bring home money to a dyke. Pretty ponies wore makeup, pretty ponies knew how to put on perfume and lipstick and blush.

Fluttershy spritzed herself with a flowery fragrance, then set the perfume back on the bathroom sink and picked up the tube of dark, red lipstick sitting nearby. She pouted as she applied it, studying herself in the mirror to ensure an even coat.

Amidst the lingering scent of lillies and violets, she smelled a hint of rye. A light whiskey, brought by the tinkle of ice in a glass.

Was that enough lipstick? Fluttershy studied her face in the mirror.

After a few seconds, she closed her eyes and pushed the lipstick to her lips again.

She could go by feel. A good wife knew how much to wear. Fluttershy’s hoof shook as she smeared gobs of red onto her lips.

More than that. What did she think she was, a classy escort? He didn’t come home at the end of a hard day to try even harder for somepony pretending to be classy. If she wasn’t going to lift a hoof all day, the least she could do is fit the part.

The tube was almost gone. Fluttershy set it on the sink again, the metal clattering against the porcelain as she left it shakily in place. She opened her eyes again.

That was better. Much better, she looked the part now. More lipstick, he’d said, more for her mouth. More for her mouth that she knew what to do with, that was right.

Fluttershy wiped a tear away before applying her mascara. She was quicker at it now, but still left some smudges. That was okay. He liked smudges.

After another minute or two of preperation, she was done. She looked just like her mommy.

Fluttershy darted out of the bathroom and back to the couch, where Angel Bunny was still sitting, staring at the far wall.

“T-there,” Fluttershy said, stammering. “Is that... do you like it?”

Angel Bunny stared.

Looks about right. Couldn’t tell you from a whore on the street if I was passing by the corner. Have to cut the rouge off you with a knife before you could get to the dicksucking.

Fluttershy smiled and batted her goopy, poorly-done eyelashes. Angel Bunny sounded just like her daddy, didn’t he?

“T-thank you,” she said. Her wings fluttered aimlessly on her back.

You’re not gonna make me go on, are you? Get over here and get to work, and hurry the fuck up. You’d better not burn what’s on for dinner or you’ll be wearing natural eyeshadow for the next week.

Fluttershy’s whole body shivered as she kneeled in front of the couch. Angel was still staring off into space, swaying idly from side to side as though he was on a post. Without waiting for him to acknowledge her, Fluttershy leaned forward and extended her tongue. She licked up the whole of Angel’s front side, lapping slowly at his entire body.

Angel Bunny sat, nonplussed.

LIke that? Celestia, it’s a miracle I’m around, with brains like that you wouldn’t last a day without somepony paying for your meals. Not your mouth, you’ll get your lipstick everywhere. Up, use that hole between your legs for something useful. Spread it, hurry up.

One of Fluttershy’s hindlegs banged against the table behind her as she stood. It stung, but she swallowed the urge to shout and moved onto the couch, kneeling above Angel Bunny and pressing her face into the couch cushion, staining it with her too thick layer of makeup. A tear rolled down her cheek as she lowered her bottom half.

She paused as the fur from Angel’s body neared the wet spot between her legs.

Oh, is she watching? Well, let her watch. Maybe she’ll learn something.

Fluttershy remembered being on the other side of the couch. Whiskey. His eyes, staring into hers. She shook her head.

Fluttershy bit her lip as she went down the final few inches. She tasted lipstick and tin.

The instant Angel Bunny’s body pressed up against her slit, she gasped, sucking in a mouthful of animal fuzz lingering on the couch cushions. She coughed, but pressed down harder, rocking herself against Angel’s immobile form.

“Like... like that? Is that good?” Fluttershy asked, gasping between words like she was between bouts of sobbing.

Angel remained silent and still. Fluttershy continued to grind herself on him.

“That’s... that’s good, isn’t it?” Fluttershy asked, shutting her eyes and letting her mascara run down her cheeks. “Just like that?”

At least pretend.

“Oohhhh.” Fluttershy moaned loudly, breathing into the back of the couch. She flapped her wings and shut her eyes, and rubbed her clit on Angel’s chest, just underneath his chin. “Oh, Celestia, so good, fuck me like that, yes...”

Swearing, yes, like that. He liked swearing. Harder, more.

“Fuck me like your whore,” Fluttershy said, yelled, screamed out loud. Angel was the perfect amount of hard and soft as she slid her dripping pussy up him again and again, her cheap, slutty pussy, making him feel good, making him happy with his whore’s whole.

“Oooh,” Fluttershy moaned again. She bit down hard on her lower lip as she rocked against Angel’s stationary form, rubbing the whole of her lips over him, sometimes sliding her clit up to his face where she pressed it hard against his nose, making her gasp and bury her face in the orange fabric stained with makeup in front of her. Some tears came among the moaning, enough that Fluttershy’s breathing was loud too, and for every breath of cosmetics and flowers she sucked in, a mix of her own juices and a faint trace of whiskey joined it.

Remind me again why you’re worth my time to bother filling up.

“B-because I’m yours.” Fluttershy said the sentence so fast it came out as a blurred mumble. She braced herself with her forelegs on the couch and began to buck wildly against Angel’s chest, pressing so hard that she knocked him onto his back. She moved forward, sliding on top of his prone body, and still rubbed, shutting her eyes and sucking in a breath through her teeth. “I’m your slut, your whore, I’m no good for anything but you,  please, I need, it, please...”

She could feel it coming. She knew he had to go first, he always had to go first, she was lucky if she did, but this once, please, let her not have to crawl away soaking and filled up and washing the stink of his musk and her own lipstick off, she was close, she was, let her please...

Underneath the grinding of her pussy, Angel twitched. His ears flicked  against the couch, and his eyes sharpened, gradually emerging from the mist that hd covered them. Fluttershy was vaguely aware of the increase in motion between her legs. She could feel the tickle of his nose on her love-button, she was so close.

Bite your tongue, you sound like a stuffed pig. Don’t let any spill out.

“Mmph,” Fluttershy said, biting down hard. Yes.

It was warm. Fluttershy felt incredibly warm, wet. She was his.

Underneath her pussy, Angel gasped.

A flood overook him as Fluttershy came. From the spasming of her marelips, her pussy gushed, complete with the twitching and jerking of her entire body as the throes of of her climax came. She squirted, and squealed into her closed mouth, and held herself in place above Angel’s mute struggle, letting him thrash and kick as she showered him in a flood of her marecum. She bit down so hard on her tongue she felt the skin break, but that did nothing to stop her spasms.

And, as the tingles of pleasure began to ebb, something else inside her let go. The couch was already soaked.

The flood this time was much more steady. It came out like a tap being turned on, a stream of yellow spraying from her slit onto the couch. Drenching the cushions and the ball of white fur seated atop them. Angel didn’t even bother to struggle: he just stayed in place, sputtering out the occasional mouthful of bitter, amber liquid as it flowed over him.

Fluttershy shivered as she let go. Her wings stood up on her back and her forelegs quaked against the couch as the steady stream of urine poured from between her legs, eventually fading into a trickle, then just a few drops that fell just beneath Angel’s feet.

A few seconds passed. Fluttershy breathed heavily, her stomach and chest rising and falling wildly as she gulped in air. After a minute, she peeled herself from the couch, leaving a stain of makeup on the back section and a yellow one below it.

Angel picked himself up as Fluttershy settled on the floor in front of him.

“Oh,” she said. She shook her head with her eyes closed. Angel did the same, eyes open.

“Oh, Angel, I’m sorry,” Fluttershy said, picking the tiny bunny up and bringing him close. He was dripping wet. “I’m sorry,” Fluttershy said again, “I’m not sure what happened just now. We were going to play, weren’t we?”

Angel didn’t nod. He let Fluttershy cradle him like a sogging baby.

“Oh, Angel, did you have an accident?” Fluttershy smiled past the faded glaze of preparation still caked onto her face. Angel looked up at her. His eyes traced over every inch of Fluttershy’s face, then settled on nothing, staring at the wall on the far side of the room.

“Well, that’s okay.” Fluttershy flapped her wings towards the bathroom. The door was still ajar. With a contented sounding hum, Fluttershy set Angel in the tub and shut the door.

“Well get you all cleaned up in no time, don’t you worry.”

From the nearby mirror, a glint of light caught in Fluttershy’s reflection, the black drip of mascara still trickling down her cheek, along with the red splotches of lipstick that had been smeared everywhere.

Time to get clean again, Fluttershy thought as she turned on the water.

Angel stared forward, silent.

Spike: You Can't Spell 'Fun' Without 'Unf'

Spike sighed to himself. It was the end of a long day. He’d been run off his feet for most of it, doing errands for Twilight, fetching her this thing and that thing and the other. Mostly errands, but work nonetheless in the long run.

A hard day’s work meant a hard day’s reward. Spike smiled as he reached under his pillow for the magazine cut-out he kept there. Snails had given it to him. It was a picture wrinkled and worn from use, faded from exposure to the sun and less than ideal keeping conditions. It was far from perfect, but it was all he had, and therefore more than enough. Spike already felt himself getting hard as he reached downwards with one claw, the other holding the picture of the spread-legged pony model waving her plot in the air. As his fingers wrapped around his aching hard-on, Spike closed his eyes.

“Wow, not even a decent set of crotchboobs? You’ve got some pretty boring taste, Spike.”

Twilight. That was Twilight’s voice. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Spike opened his eyes with one hand still on his dick.

Twilight rolled her eyes at him and smiled.

“I’m just saying,” she said.

Spike shot up instantly. Twilight was here, and he was touching himself. Every nerve in his body screamed different things at him, and his brain failed to function as a result.

“Twilight! You... I... get out of here! Now!”

Twilight frowned.

“How come? Don’t you want me to watch?”

“What?! I... no! Get out, now, go, for Celestia’s sake!” Spike turned away from Twilight to hide his still twitching erection, his face the colour of blooming lava. Go away, please go away.

Spike looked over his shoulder to find Twilight still there, staring at him with a curious expression.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Yes! Why on earth would I want you to watch?”

“Well,” Twilight stepping closer. Spike shielded his cock with both hands, letting the picture fall to the floor. He tried to edge away from Twilight, but she cornered him with little effort.

“Because the idea of touching yourself while a mare, the mare you’ve secretly lusted after for years, watches you, must get you pretty turned on, right? I bet you’re dripping precum all over the floor thinking about your dear Twilight being near you, the pony you’ve loved like a sister your whole life, drooling at the sight of your aching, prepubescent dragon dick hard in your claw—”

If Spike had known any swear-words, he would have let them all at once. Instead, he settled for the loudest gasp he could muster.

“What?!”

The question didn't’ seem to be powerful enough, but it was all he could manage.

Twilight looked confused.

“You mean you don’t want to let me watch you jerk off, and then have my enthusiastic voyeurism turn into the interspecies sex you’ve always dreamed about?”

“No!” Spike shouted, turning his body just enough to scream in Twilight’s direction while still keeping his rapidly deflating erection shielded.

Twilight frowned.

“I’m not sure I understand,” she said.

Spike gawked.

“I think what Spike means, my dear, is that he has no interest in watching. Spike is already well-versed in the semantics of awkward interspecies affairs, and wishes to try his claw at a more practiced form of sexual experimentation... don’t you, Spikey-wikey?”

Another voice he recognized. But it couldn’t be. How could—

Rarity stepped in front of Twilight, smiling and pushing the purple unicorn away with her foreleg.

“Now, Spike,” she said, stepping closer, so close Spike could feel her hoof almost on his there it was on his back. He tried as hard as possible to shrivel away into the corner, but Rarity turned him about, leaving him to cover his dragon-junk as best he could manage.

“Don’t be shy,” Rarity said, poking at Spike’s claws with a hoof. “I’m well aware you’ve fancied me for some time, and it’s high time we put your not-so-secret lusting to good use. Uncover yourself so we can get started.” Rarity prodded at Spike’s claws again, then promptly turned and whiffed her tail under his nose. Spike got a glint of purple before Rarity’s round, white butt greeted him.

She was wearing a corset.

“I’ve brought a whole array of accoutrements with me. Whips, gags, floggers, that sort of thing... you’ll be a good boy and punish Mommy for being naughty, won’t you? Won’t you give your darling Rarity a spanking like she so rightly deserves, hm?”

Spike balked. He staggered backwards, one claw reaching for an exit on the wall he knew wasn’t there, the other hiding his semi-aroused shame.

On his third stumbling step backwards, his free claw found a soft nose instead the wall.

“Now listen,” Applejack’s voice said. Spike turned to it and found the orange earth pony standing next to him. He tried to back away in another direction, but Applejack’s lasso was on him instantly, winding around his waist. “Spike ain’t hot on either of y’all ‘cause he doesn’t go in for that kind of thing. Spike’s got enough pony pussy in his dreams to last a lifetime; what he really wants is a mare with a backdoor who don’t mind takin’ a few trips round dragon-dick station. Ain’t that right, Spike?’

Spike’s mouth hung open as Applejack, keeping her lasso about him, spun and presented her ass right next to his face. Applejack’s supple buttcheeks jiggled as she shook her posterior, gesturing with a hoof towards he hole between them.

“Come on,” she said, waggling her butt at him. “Don’t tell me you don’t want a spin on the finest ass this side of Equestria.”

Spike shook his head, mute.

Applejack glared at him.

“Well that just don’t make no sense. Everypony knows dragons can’t wait to get it in a girl’s butt. Don’t you wanna shoot your load in between these apple-fritters?” Applejack jiggled her rump again, prompting a fresh head-shake from Spike.

“That’s because he does dig anal; he just doesn’t wanna get with your soggy, used up hole when there’s a nice, tight set of buns waiting for him over here.”

Spike craned his head to find Rainbow Dash smirking from another nearby corner of his bedroom. She walked forward with her wings held high, then turned to present herself to Spike. Spike could see the puff of her lips between her thighs as she waggled her ass under his face. It looked much firmer.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Applejack let go of the rope around Spike and made her way to Rainbow Dash’s side, glaring.

Dash smirked at her.

“Come on, AJ. Everypony in town knows you’ve been plowed up the ass more times than the fields at your farm. Plus, Big Mac isn’t exactly known for leaving mares in proper shape when he’s done with them...”

Applejack gasped, and Rainbow Dash answered with a chuckle.

Spike blinked a few times, willing himself to wake up. The room and the ponies in it remained.

“Stop,” he said. “Stop. This can’t be real. Please, all of you... stop!”

“Aw, come on, Spikey, don’t you wanna have some fun?” Pinkie bounced out from behind Twilight on her tail, smiling broadly. “Is it ‘cause there’s not enough mares for you to have fun with? We can fix that, if you want.”

Spike had barely blinked before another pony appeared in the room: another Pinkie Pie. He blinked, and there was a third, and then a fourth, fifth, seven, tenth, twelfth—

“Twenty Pinkie Pies,” the gaggle of Pinkies said in stereo, “which means you can have us in whatever way you want. Any hole, any position, and extras on top.” In unison, Pinkie and her clones surrounded Spike, each of them pressing a different part of their anatomy into him. Butts, sides, faces, and wet slits assaulted Spike from every angle.

“You just hafta promise to do me first,” the original Pinkie said with a giggle.

“No,” Spike said, swatting away one of the Pinkie-slits aiming for his face. “I don’t want to, please, stop, stop...”

Pinkie frowned.

“Come on, Spike, play nice.” She wiggled her sizable hips and butt at Spike, clearing a space in her circle of clones. “Don’t you wanna shoot your party cannon inside and fill my cupcake up with frosting?”

Spike stuck his tongue out like he was about to be sick.

“Excuse me, Pinkie, but everypony knows Spike doesn’t enjoy that sort of thing.”

As Fluttershy stepped past Pinkie’s confused looking face and squishy extended butt, the clones around Spike vanished, each one disappearing with a loud pop.

“Spike is a tiny dragon, which means he likes being treated like he’s tiny. Little. Small. Isn’t that right Spike?”

“I... no?”

Fluttershy’s hoof caught the side of Spike’s mouth with a smack. He raised a claw to it, finally revealing his flaccid cock, and rubbed the spot where he’d been struck. Tears welled up in his eyes.

“I believe you meant ‘No, Mistress,” Fluttershy said, her voice stern.

Spike quivered, holding back the sob in his chest.

“Now, Spike,” Fluttershy said, stepping closer to him. “I’m not about to give you permission to speak, so I’ll speak for you. I know for a fact that you’re a worthless little slime. You want to be forced onto the floor like the worm you are, and made to lick your Mistress’s hooves, sucking up every bit of dirt from them while you grind your tiny little dick on the carpet, getting so hard and dripping that even just a touch will be enough to bring you off. And then you want more than a touch, a hard press, a rough tug, a smash of your Mistress’s hoof into your puny little balls, so you can scream and cry and cum and shoot blood and hot white jizz everywhere. That’s why I’m here, and it’s what I’m going to help you with.”

Spike’s mouth opened. He tasted vomit in the back of his throat.

“Oh. I mean, um, if that’s alright with you,” Fluttershy said softly.

“Enough,” Spike said. His feet gave out and he fell onto his bottom, where he began scooching backwards, shaking his head. “No more. Please, all of you go, I don’t want this, I don’t want any of this...”

“What do you mean you don’t want it?” Applejack appeared in front of Spike, frowning. “Ain’t nopony who doesn’t want a chance to shoot inside this applebutt.”

Spike shook his head.

“For gosh’s sake, AJ, he doesn’t even like your butt.” Rainbow Dash flapped her wings over Applejack’s head and landed in front of Spike, her smile immovable. “He’s all about the pony pussy after all, isn’t that right?”

Spike tried and failed to dodge the nudge of Rainbow’s hoof into his side.

“Like this,” Dash said, turning and spreading her hindlegs wide. A gaping set of blue lips stared Spike in the face. Along the bottom and sides, a series of metal rings ran, piercings every few inches in Dash’s hood, and one at the very special spot right underneath her swollen clit.

Spike could find no words. He closed his eyes.

“Girls, enough.”

Twilight’s voice, sounding the way she did when she was about to lecture somepony.

“It’s obvious Spike isn’t interested,” Twilight went on. Silently, with his eyes closed, Spike cried for joy. Yes. Thank you. Please  leave him alone.

“He’s clearly more keen on males,” Twilight continued. Spike opened his eyes.

A row of six giant dongs greeted him.

“Are you sure, Twilight? He doesn’t look too keen to me.” Pinkie’s cock bobbled as she spoke, bouncing along with the rest of her.

Twilight nodded.

“I’m positive. I can tell he’s been dreaming about choking on a virile pony’s stallionhood for weeks. He wants their pulsing head to flare deep down in his throat when they jizz, so he can drink up every drop, and fill his nose with the musk of their unwashed taint.”

No. No no no. Spike shook his head again. The cocks came closer.

“Shoot, I really wanted him to fuck me,” Applejack lamented, sporting the second largest erection in the group as she moved herself towards Spike. “I heard dragons have got one o’ them hemi-peenie things. Two dicks means gettin’ fucked in both holes!”

“They don’t have two dicks, dummy,” Rainbow Dash countered. Her cock was the smallest. Maybe she was bitter about it. “They have one, and it’s got spines.”

“I heard it was barbed, like a cat,” Fluttershy said quietly. Her enormous, womb-shattering-size dong hung almost to the floor. “They’re hooked, and when they go inside, they pin you in place and rake the insides of your cervix with their sharp points.” Fluttershy coughed and hid her eyes under her mane. “They sound... nice.”

“Enough talking, dears,” Rarity said, just an inch shy of Applejack. “Let’s give the poor boy what he wants, shall we?”

“No, please—”

Spike’s mistake was opening his mouth to protest. Before he could get more than a few words out, Rarity’s swollen dickhead was between his lips. He tried to pull his head back and spit out the flesh lump, but Rarity was persistent and practiced, and managed to keep her head in the young dragon’s mouth as the rest of her friends closed in. Cocks jabbed at Spike’s face from multiple angles, prodding at his cheeks and smearing precum all over his scales.

Rarity’s cock went further down. Spike could feel it at the back of his throat, tickling him as it flared.

At last, he managed to pull away. Rarity stood in place as Spike yanked his mouth away from her dong. Though he was free, the scent of the clear pre-jizz hit his face immediately. The smell of sweaty, unwashed futa-musk came next.

Spike felt the boiling that had been brewing in his stomach finally turn over. Still on his back, he tried to hold himself up, but couldn't convince his brain to turn his head. With a sad burbling noise, a spray of vomit came from his mouth, landing with a splatter on his chest, stomach, and between his legs. Tears fell from Spike’s eyes as he threw up on his own dick.

Everypony in the circle frowned in various degrees of concern.

“Does... does that mean he doesn’t like it?” Applejack asked, moving back a bit with her dick swaying.

“I think that much is obvious,” Twilight said with a sigh. She pushed her way to the front of the group and held a hoof up to keep her friends from advancing. “I’m not sure what this means. Surely there must be some fetish we missed...”

“Leave,” Spike said, wiping a drip of vomit from his lips. “Get out, please, for the love of Celestia, just leave me alone...”

Nopony in the room spoke. Twilight shared a look with all of them. After a few seconds she nodded, then gestured towards the door. The rest of the elements of harmony filed out neatly at her direction, their dicks swaying beneath them as they left.

“I bet it was scat,” Dash muttered to herself as she left.

“Or diapers,” Fluttershy chimed in, following shortly behind.

“I dunno about Spike,” Pinkie bubbled on the way out, “but I’d take some scat from Rainbow Dash. She can shit in my face any time!”

Applejack and Rarity left without further observation, evidently more concerned with the closeness in proportion of their newly developed dicks than anything else.

Twilight shut the door with a burst of magic as the last of her friends left.

On the floor, Spike curled into a ball and began to cry.

“Spike, what’s the matter?” Twilight stepped towards the dragon, who didn’t even acknowledge her as she came within inches of his crumpled form. With another flash from her horn, Twilight’s cock disappeared, and she kneeled next to Spike with what looked to be genuine concern on her face.

“Why?” Spike asked. “Why are you doing this?” Spike uncurled slightly from his ball, his eyes watery with tears from his sobbing and vomiting. Twilight’s eyes grew as she watched him sit up.

“What do you mean, Spike? I thought you’d like this.”

“Why would I like this?!” Spike threw an arm up, but quickly drew it back to his side. The vomit in his throat was threatening to come back.

“Well,” Twilight said, her eyes drifting to the side. “I figured it only made sense. I mean, living in a town of ponies, face to face with our tight fuckable vaginas all day, must surely be driving you crazy. It’s only natural that you’d develop a series of extreme fetishes, and I just wanted to help you relieve them. Are you sure you don’t want me to get Applejack back in here so she can take your dick in both her holes?”

“No.” Spike shook his head and tried to stand, but found his body not quite ready to support him, leading him back to the floor. Twilight extended a hoof, which he took with a reluctant grasp, letting Twilight help him up to his feet.

“I just wanted you to feel good, Spike,” Twilight said. “I thought this would do that.”

“I don’t want any of this,” Spike said, shaking his head and wiping a claw across his forehead. “I don’t want any of that stuff, I don’t want to think about this ever again. I want this all to go away.”

Twilight Sparkle chewed her bottom lip. She had screwed up. There was something she had missed.

“Well,” she said, kneeling next to Spike and bringing her head even closer to his “what about a kiss?”

Spike’s eyes went wide as he turned. A raised claw found the side of his face still stinging from Fluttershy’s hoofslap.

“Why would I—”

“Oh, come on Spike, I’m not dumb. You might not have been lusting after me in secret to that extent, but it’s obvious you want to be with me. I’ve seen you staring when I bend over, and I know sometimes you think about me in here.”

Spike had no more shame in him left to blush, and so settled for staring forward mutely.

“A kiss is no big deal, and I know you’ve wanted me to kiss you for a long time,” Twilight said. “Plus, I’m still like your sister, which makes it a really hot kiss.”

Spike shook his head again, and Twilight rolled her eyes.

“Come on. It’s harmless. Just one kiss and I’ll leave you alone, okay?”

Spike didn’t want a kiss. He didn’t want Twilight here, he hadn’t wanted any of what had just happened, and if he was lucky, would only have to spend half his life trying to erase it from his memory. He just wanted to go to bed and have everything he had witnessed be forgotten.

But, before now, he had wanted Twilight in a way. To kiss, to hold, to gently guide into his first romance. He knew it was wrong to want Twilight in that way, because yes, she was like a sister to him, and feeling even a tingle of love beyond that obligation was taboo, and wrong. Before he’d been assaulted by more sex than he knew how to understand, Spike had thought a kiss from Twilight might be nice one day.

Maybe it still would be.

“Just one kiss,” Twilight said, smiling at Spike from a few inches away. “Then I’ll leave you alone, okay? I promise.”

Spike nodded weakly. He couldn’t find words anymore. He wasn’t sure if he should believe this was real, or if any of what had just happened was real.

It was, if the warmth of Twilight’s breath was any indication as she leaned in with her lips pursed.

Awkwardly, Spike closed his lips as well.

Twilight found his mouth after a second. She kissed him, and sighed.

The kiss was soft. It was light, and genuine, and pure, and sweet, and despite himself, Spike could feel his heart flutter in his chest as Twilight kised him, reminding him of all his secret pining, all his pent up love and interest and longing and more, at last realized. Despite everything that had just happened, Spike warmed to the kiss, and it warmed back to him.

As it went on, he closed his eyes.

Spike thrashed as he awoke. His blankets clung tightly around him, hot and sweaty like day-old salami curled around his body. He kicked and squirmed, eventually peeling the blankets off and throwing them to the side of the bed, at last giving him the chance to breathe.

But he still felt hot and wet. And sticky.

After a few seconds of heavy breathing to bring himself to proper consciousness, Spike looked down.

Oh.

His entire lower half was coated. Probably the blankets too then. He ran a hand over one of the sticky splotches that was layered from his waist halfway up his stomach. The familiar texture of semen greeted his claw.

Spike wiped his claw on the bed as he swung his legs over the side. He shook his head as he slid off the bed onto the floor, giving himself a few seconds before he made his way over to the dresser in the far corner of his room. He pulled open the middle drawer with one claw, and wiped the other one across his forehead, which was sweaty.

“Yeesh. What a dream.”

Spike rifled in the several articles of clothing before his claw found the solid object hidden amongst them. He pulled out the small notebook and flipped it open, grabbing the nearby pen with his other claw. The page prior to the blank one he selected was covered in hasty-looking scribbles. The words Twilight eats a bird? were scratched onto the bottom.

Spike tapped his pen against the page for a second before her wrote. The contents of his dream poured out from his head onto the paper, summarized in five comma separated sentences woven together. Dictation complete, Spike closed the notebook and put it back in the drawer with the pen. He shut it and walked back to his bed, checking the time from the clock on his bedside table as he moved.

It wasn’t that late yet. He could catch a few more hours.

Spike yawned as he pulled the blankets from the floor and wrapped them around his body. The cum on his stomach was beginning to dry, hardening into a crusty layer that he would have to scrape off when he would awoke. His bed stank of previous loads fired in the night. He could shower when he got up.

Sleeping more would be nice. If he slept long enough, he could dream again. If he dreamt, he would be sure to write it down. Different ponies danced through his heads as sleep began to return, giving him glances of the exposed holes and eager bodies he had just awoken from. What all the ponies might do with him if only things went well for once. What they would do by themselves, and with each other. There were so many possibilities.

Spike yawned one last time and curled into himself, letting sleep overtake him.

“Hope you enjoyed yourself,” he murmured before he passed out.

Life in Equestria want on around him.

What were the ponies out there doing while he slept?

There was no telling.