Heat and Desire

Chapters

Flourish
Lyra
Fuchsia
Luna
Trixie Part 1

Flourish

Heat and Desire
Chapter 1: Flourish
By
The Incognito Brony
(Brony Incognito elsewhere)

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit fan made work of fiction written for fun and to finally get this idea out of my head.

Fair warning, this is a very strange and very dark story with badly written sex that descends into the realm of rape. You have been warned.

I do not own My Little Pony in any part, nor is this intended to infringe on any copyright or license owned by Hasbro or anyone else. If you actually read this disclaimer, you deserve a cookie.

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Something rang in the distance. Big Macintosh's ears flicked toward the source, to the barn. His brow furrowed in confusion as he turned his face home.

He was in one of the western fields, bucking his way through a patch of red gala that had come due a few weeks early. Two large baskets hung at his sides, held there by a strap across his broad back and heaping with the fragrant fruits of his labour. On the next hill sat the apple cart, nearly overflowing. He had been about ready to make another trip back.

Macintosh looked up into the early autumn sky to the sun; it sat halfway between noon and the horizon. Around four o'clock by his reckoning. Far too early for dinner. Besides, the sound was wrong. This wasn't the high-pitched clatter of the old triangle. It was deeper, slower, an ominous sound that stirred something below his heart. The ghost of an old memory.

In the next instant he was off, hooves hammering and ripping the hard earth of the Acres as he tore through them towards his home. He left a trail of apples in his wake, all ignored. He twisted his head around to work loose the baskets and their speed-stealing weight. This was quickly abandoned in favour of simply biting and tearing through the strap. Free, he poured himself into his legs and put on another burst of speed.

In his life he had heard the alarm bell rung twice. The last had been during his parents' accident when he'd been sent to sound it. Never was the bell used in fun, never the tool of a prank. The bell was as sacred as the Acres, or the triangle, or Applejack's hat, or Macintosh's own yoke. If any member of the Apple family dared to use it, she needed him. Now.

Macintosh crested the last hill, bringing the barn and the road beyond into view. A few feet above the road he saw a rainbow streaking towards the barn. A pink and yellow pegasus, Fluttershy, galloped after it as quickly as she could. The red stallion ignored the fillies save for a quick, silent thank you to Celestia. He pushed onwards to and through the wide open barn door. He beat Fluttershy, but not Rainbow. Once through, he was stopped dead in his tracks by the sight. There, in the center of the barn stood a human.

Nowhere, in all of Esquestria, was there a foal old enough to speak who didn't know what a human was. Even in the tiniest, most remote villages they had heard the old stories and seen old paintings. Humans were noble or savage creatures, warriors and poets, wonders and terrors. Dragons feared them above all others save the Royal Sisters. They were a living legend, a cautionary tale against ambition. Above all else, they were formidable.

And yet, the one he saw was not. It was small, tiny. It seemed frail, even. At the ear, Macintosh came up to its neck. Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy, both now beside him in similar states of awe, would come up just shy of its chest, but he would have bet his last bit that any one of them would easily outweigh the human. Its clothes, though intact, hung strangely from its body, flapping about loosely as the human moved.

Applejack and Twilight stood to either side of the creature, using teeth and magic to pull at ropes they'd managed to lasso or wrap around its neck and arms. It fought them futilely, pulling and twisting itself away, somehow staying upright on its two feet as it did. Once, it fell to a knee but righted itself again. All the while it cried and mewled and shrieked in frustration and rage. If it used words, Macintosh had never heard of any like them. Its shoulder-length mane, straight and the colour of straw, whipped around its head constantly, hiding its face save for the briefest of gasps of maddened eyes.

"If ya'll are done gawkin,' how's about one of you toss some bales over by Grand Pappy's anvil before we lose our handle on it!" Applejack's voice snapped Macintosh out of his stupor. He quickly did as he was told. Rainbow Dash followed suit. Without further prompting, the big stallion grabbed a loose rope trailing from the human's arm and helped the girls drag the thing towards the bed of hay they'd made.

They forced it down slowly, face first, onto the hay, pulling its arms over its head to press against the anvil. Applejack let her rope slip and moved to bind the human's hands to the steel.

Macintosh knew that the anvil's stone base was buried four feet into the ground. It and the steel bolted to it had stood in the barn for three generations; there was no doubt in Macintosh's mind that it would effortlessly resist the human's struggles and he knew Applejack had thought the same.

"Wait!" Fluttershy yelled. All four ponies stopped, in Applejack's case mid-knot, and looked at her. She was flustered. From experience, Macintosh doubted that the cry they'd heard had been her first. "Look at her. She can't breathe. You have to turn her over."

All of them looked down. Fluttershy was right. To a pony they all swore, Rainbow somewhat more inventively than Macintosh would have expected, and together hauled and heaved against the struggling human, forcing it onto its back on the hay. A quick knot by Applejack had its arms secured.

"Rainbow. Big Macintosh." Twilight said, pointing at the ponies, "hold down her legs."

Again, they did as they were told. They forced the human's legs down and to either side of a hay bale, pressing its feet flat on the floor. Twilight used her magic to snake a length of rope under the bale and around each of its ankles. With its hands secured, the bales were too long for it to slip the rope free. Their work done, the four ponies all staggered away from the bound human. Fluttershy, who had never approached, still stood rooted to her spot on the floor.

The human still squirmed and cried, but was contained. Macintosh looked down at the thing again, taking his first calm look at it as he caught his breath. It had been wearing pants made from a sturdy blue material he didn't know, and technically he supposed it still did, but they now hung on only one leg and even then only below the knee. Had it been worn correctly, it seemed too large for the tiny human. It also wore a too-large hooded sweater made of a grey felt, zippered at the front, that now hung open. A few tatters of white cloth near the shoulders and the ragged remains of a shirt collar at the neck told of something else that had been torn away.

For all practical purposes, the human was naked in front of him. It was only then that Fluttershy's words hit home: Her. It was a female. It was hard to mistake with her legs held open as they were, regardless of species. Macintosh felt a heat in his cheeks and quickly moved his gaze.

He found himself looking at her legs, then her torso. Her ribs and bones showed through more than they should, again, regardless of species. It wasn't enough to put her in danger, but enough to be concerning. It spoke of neglect.

The only exceptions were two fleshy mounds, small enough to vanish in the hollow of his horseshoes, sitting high on her chest. One was covered with angry, red scratches. He pondered them a moment before a dim memory came to him and he realized they were breasts, that humans always had them enlarged and in entirely the wrong place. He decided to take a sudden interest in the anvil.

"Shh... shh... It's all right." Fluttershy's voice came. Macintosh looked back and saw the yellow pegasus smooth the still-crying human's hair with a hoof. She began gently brushing away the human's tears with the tip of her nose. "I promise I'll try to help you," she said.

Fluttershy looked up at Applejack and Twilight. "What happened to her?"

The two looked at one another. Applejack shrugged. "Don't rightly know. Twi was helping me buck some apples in the East orchard when this here thing just plum wanders up outta nowhere. Gave us a right scare, but poor thing looked worse off than we were. Even seemed okay for a while, then just starts pitching a fit, tearing off her clothes and clawing at herself. Had to rope her down jus' to keep her from doing any real damage."

"Rainbow was taking a nap in one of the trees, so we sent her to get you," Twilight said, "I held her while Applejack rang the bell, and then you all showed up. Do you have any idea what's wrong with her."

"No," Fluttershy said with a mournful shake of her head. "I've never even seen a human before. I didn't even know if they were real."

Big Macintosh sat back on his haunches. He was as much at a loss as any of them and the continuing mewling and sobs from the bound human weren't helping matters any. He found himself watching her without consciously registering that he was. She was strange. Beautiful, but alien and the way she squirmed on the hay...

Big Macintosh blinked. He realized he was lightheaded.

"Horse apples..." he muttered under his breath.

The red stallion pushed himself to his feet and made his way over to the human, gently shouldering his way past Twilight. He stopped, held his muzzle a few inches over her crotch and inhaled deeply, taking her in.

"What in the hay do you think you're doing?" That was Applejack. He'd expected this.

Macintosh ignored his sister. He took another deep draught of her scent. She smelled of strawberries and marzipan with a dozen flavours hidden beneath. She was different from a pony mare, but still rich and wonderful and his body responded the same.

"What in the hay do you think you're doing?" Applejack yelled. He'd expected that as well. He also felt more than saw the four sets of eyes on him, none looking at his face.

He was getting erect.

"Oh... oh my..." Fluttershy managed as she cowered behind Rainbow Dash until only her heavily blushing face could be seen. Her eyes never quite left him.

"Eyup. She's in heat," Macintosh said. A silence fell upon the barn so thick that even the wails of the human seemed muted for a moment.

Twilight spoke first. "But that's impossible. Humans don't go into heat. They're always in season."

Applejack tapped her chin with a hoof. "Twi, you know ah respect you and your book learnin', but ah reckon Big Mac's right on this one." She pointed the hoof at the human. "Ah've heard about this before, but it weren't in a filly."

"Huh?"

"Okay, that's enough." Rainbow Dash said, stepping forward, moving to stand a few feet to the side of the anvil and face the other ponies. "Would somepony mind making sense? We've got something that shouldn't even exist tied down in Applejack's barn, Fluttershy doesn't know what to do, Big Macintosh is says its horny and now you're saying you've seen a stallion in heat?" The mare swung her head around the barn, scanning every nook and cranny. "Seriously, where's Pinkie Pie? This prank isn't funny."

"This ain't a joke, Rainbow. And ah never said a stallion was in heat. Well, not in the way ya'll mean." She scratched the back of her head, then sighed. "And ah wasn't there to see it. Listen, if you stick a stallion around enough fillies in heat and you make it so he can't even buck himself, well, this is what happens."

"Why would anypony do that?" Rainbow asked.

Twilight blinked. "Applejack? That's terrible."

"Don't ah know it. Happened back when ah was a little filly. Didn't get all the details for a long time, but Big Mac and ah came back from being away for the heat and found out Apricot, that was our neighbour's colt at the time, was in the hospital. He was just old enough to sire, see, so a couple a' fillies thought it'd be funny to tease him. Got him permission from the mayor to stay in town with 'em during the heat, did everything legit. Then tied him up so he couldn't touch himself, guess they told him it was a game, and opened the windows so he'd smell all the fillies.

"Way I hear it, they left him there the whole time. Was their first year in town too, didn't know what it'd do to 'em. Plum forgot about Apricot. Ten days go by and one of 'em remembers, but it was too late. No food, no water, ropes cut him up something fierce and he was so desperate he rubbed himself bloody on the floor. Had a fever real bad from the infections. Took him a year to recover, an' even then he came out a gelding. The fillies had moved away by then, couldn't stand being around folks who knew what they did. Apricot left for Manehatten not long after."

Three mares stared at Applejack, eyes wide, mouths agape. One by one they looked to Big Macintosh who nodded to each in turn. Tears filled Fluttershy's eyes. Twilight looked nervously around the room, her mouth noiselessly working. Rainbow fled the barn, Macintosh heard her retching seconds after he lost sight of her.

Silence reigned again, longer and deeper this time. The air itself stood on ceremony as ponies traded long glances. In time Rainbow came back inside, wiping bile from her mouth with her hoof. She was herself again, steel in her rose eyes as she looked straight to Applejack.

"What do we do?" the pegasus asked.

Applejack shrugged. "Only one thing we can do, but ain't nopony goin' to ask mah big brother, or anypony, to do it."

"Huh?" Twilight said, "Do what?"

"But you said..." Rainbow said.

Applejack stepped forward and poked Rainbow Dash in the chest with her hoof, cutting her off. "I said no, Rainbow. Unless you wanna do it, you keep yer trap shut. We ain't gonna do this that way."

"I know I'm missing something...." Twilight said, ignored by Rainbow and Applejack.

"I keep telling you I'm not that kind of filly!" Rainbow Dash yelled.

"Who's what kind of filly?" That was Twilight.

"Rainbow? Um... please? I'm sure she didn't mean that..." Fluttershy said. She quickly moved between Applejack and Rainbow Dash,caught a glare from both, then cowered backwards into a wall.

Big Macintosh rolled his eyes. Even with everything going on he couldn't have kept the smile off his face if he'd tried. The large stallion watched the mares and knew from experience that they had forgotten why they were there. It would come back to them in a few minutes and, when they did, nopony could ask for better or more dependable friends in a crisis. Until then, however...

"Applejack just called me..."

"Ah did not!"

"P-please... stop yelling..."

"Girls? What are we even talking about?"

Macintosh looked back at the poor female tied to the hay. The ropes had already worn her wrists and ankles raw, but she still squirmed and pulled against them. Her crying and screaming had died down to weak, desperate sobs. New tears glistened on her cheeks.

Big Macintosh looked to the mares again, shook his head slightly and then lowered it. He gently pressed his muzzle down between the human's twisting thighs. He slide his nose up to her crotch, wedging her legs apart with his muzzle as he went, until he reached that errant tuft of unruly fur and the cleft beneath it. There he indulged himself for just a moment, drinking in her scent again, before pressing his large, rough tongue against her flesh and slowly, deliberately, drawing it across her sex. The human let out a shuddering, sobbing gasp and wrenched her hips down, pressing herself down into his muzzle. Big Mac drew his tongue slowly over her loins again, then again.

She came suddenly, startling the stallion. He quickly backed away a step. Beneath him the human went stiff. Her back arched away from the hay as her shoulders pressed down, dragging across the bales; then higher as her head was thrown back and she lifted herself upon that. Her legs kicked out straight, or tried to, straining again and again against the ropes, her heels scraping across the earthen floor. Near the anvil, her hands clasped feverishly at the rope, the steel, her own wrists and empty air, desperate to clutch something, anything. Through it all she strained to breathe, gasping in lungfuls of air and then coughing them out as they caught in her throat, her body refusing to let them go.

And then it was over. The tension left her body with one of the great breaths she let out. She slumped back down to the hay, spent. Her breath still came ragged, but, save for a few occasional twitches and a heaving chest, she was still.

Big Macintosh stared at his human as she quieted. The shock passed, he closed his eyes. He savoured the moment, her scent and her taste still on his tongue. The edges of his mouth lifted into a slight smile as he realized that she tasted like a deliciously ripe cherry tomato. An appreciate murmur escaped his lips.

"Ya done?" Applejack said. The sentence was no question. Macintosh's head jerked backwards harder than it had when the human came and his eyes opened to find his sister giving him a heavy-lidded glare.

"Uh... Eyup..." Macintosh said, shrinking under his sister's gaze.

"Oh my!" Fluttershy squeaked, darting over to the human. She stroked the human's mane with a hoof. "Oh, I'm so very sorry, you must have really needed that. I've never even heard of anything... um... uh..." The yellow pegasus' face turned a deep crimson. "Well... you know... so fast. Now, if you promise to be good and not hurt yourself, how about we get those nasty ropes off?"

Behind her Twilight and Rainbow stood stock still, staring at Macintosh.

"Whoa..." Rainbow finally managed.

"At least that's one of 'em back." Applejack said. She waved a hoof in front of Twilight's face. No response. "Looks like Twi's gonna be a spell."

"That was awesome!"

"RD? Ain't helpin'," Applejack said, turning back on her brother, "now what in the hay were you doin' there, Big Mac?"

"Ah was helpin' out the marefolk," he said, "jus' like you were sayin' I should."

"Ah meant in private. Ya know, after me and the girls were get the what off, now?" Her head snapped over to see Fluttershy worrying the last knot loose from the human's ankle. "What the hay is wrong with...!"

Fluttershy dropped what was left of the knot and dashed between the human and the farmers. "No! No! Please, it's okay! Look!" Fluttershy said in her quiet version of a yell. She nodded behind her.

The human, now composed, looked all the frailer for it. Gone was the manic strength, in its place only a sullen, too-thin creature with a shame in her eyes that crossed every language barrier. Her long fingers made quick work of the last knot. She then started pulling on her clothes. Even to Macintosh, who seldom ever wore anything besides his yoke, he could see the movements as alien. Even he could tell that these were not accents or tools as they were to ponies. Instead she dragged the cloth across her body, pushing and pulling the clothes to cover as much of her thin frame as possible, sealing herself inside.

Like armour. The thought made Big Macintosh's heart drop.

When she was finished only her feet, hands, head and neck showed. She pulled her legs up to her chest, knees pressing into her chin, her arms wrapped around to hug them close. Only then did she look at them and still her eyes darted to avoid meeting Macintosh's, that same shame growing stronger in her eyes when she did.

From the corner of his eye Macintosh caught a worried expression on Fluttershy's face. He realized that she wasn't looking at the human's face. He followed her gaze to the human's neck, to the two taught lines there that betrayed the tightness in her hidden chest; then to her legs, pinched together and squirming ever so.

He looked to Fluttershy, she looked back with the same worried expression. She started to look away, stopped, and gave him the tiniest nod. The human was a mare fighting her heat. Fluttershy kept looking at Macintosh, a touch of sad hope and a plea crept into her eyes.

Macintosh nodded to the pegasus and took a step towards the human.

He walked directly into Applejack's outstretched hoof. "Oh no, ya don't. Ya did good, but I think she'll be okay now. How's about ya let the marefolk handle it from here?"

"But..."

"But..." Fluttershy squeaked from across the barn.

"No buts, Big Mac, trust me. You bein' around's just gonna make this harder on the both of you." She cuffed Macintosh's flank with her free forehoof. "And I reckon that there's plenty hard already."

"But..." Fluttershy squeaked again.

Macintosh looked back between his own hind legs. He opened his mouth to reply. His sister gave him a look. He shut it and walked past her and out the door. Behind him he heard Fluttershy squeak again, but he couldn't hear what she said.

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An hour back in the western orchards cleared Macintosh's head. Several more spent cleaning up the mess he'd made in his mad dash to the barn, as well as a soak in an amenable lake afterward, soothed his libido enough to walk in polite company again. He was shaking the last of the frigid water from his mane when the triangle called him to dinner.

The trip back was mercifully uneventful. He arrived ten minutes later as Applejack carefully swung the barn door shut. She grimaced when the hinges squeaked, and again when the latch snapped loudly into place.

"Everything okay?" Macintosh asked as he came up to the barn. He could smell the sweet scent of the human inside, but outside it was little more than a teasing tickle to his senses.

Applejack started, holding a hoof in front of her lips. "Not so loud," she whispered, "only jus' got her fed 'n calmed down. Poor thing fell asleep."

Macintosh blinked. "Ah been gone for hours," he said, quietly.

"Yeah, well, turns out humans're picky. Can't eat straw, grass, hay, chaff, alfalfa and didn't like the salt lick. Didn't help any that we can't understand a word she says." Applejack shrugged. "Twi says it's 'cause they're supposed to eat meat. She liked apples well enoughthough, so we made her a pie. She kept that down fine."

The stallion nodded. "Everything squared away, then?"

"Twi's in town sending a letter to the Princess, she'll be back to spend the night in case something goes wrong. Applebloom's with the Crusaders at the treehouse 'n Granny Smith not due back from Braeburn's for a few days. Ah reckon we'll be okay 'til we know what to do."

"Eyup," said Macintosh, before stepping past his sister and towards the farmhouse. He was halfway there when his sister appeared beside him.

"Big Mac, wait," she said, putting a hoof on his shoulder, "ah meant what ah said earlier. Ya did good."

The stallion stopped and turned to his sister, one eyebrow raised.

Applejack looked her brother back in the eye. "Ya'll are gonna make me say it, aren't ya?"

"Eyup." Macintosh blamed the horseshoe-shaped bruise on his shoulder on his family's pokerface.

Applejack shook her forehoof as though she'd kicked a wall. She glared at her brother, who was still trying not to grin. "Dagnabit! Ya'll did right by that filly... human... thing. Ah know that. Jus'... the girls and me, we're still new to this whole thing. Ah've only been here for the heat a few times, an' ah stay on the farm..."

Macintosh's eyebrow raised again, his bruise got a twin.

"...mostly." She finished, hoof shaking again. "Would ya'll stop that? Mah hoof hurts. Point is, we don't need to be thinking about what a stallion'll do to us when we let 'em. And ah..." She hung her head, then shook it, a forced smile on her face that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Aw, never mind, ain't important. Jus' give Twilight some space tonight, okay? C'mon, let's get some grub," she said, starting toward the farmhouse again.

"AJ?"

"Ah said don't worry about it," she called over her shoulder. "Now c'mon. Ah made a pie for you too."

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The evening came and went. Twilight arrived during dinner. Macintosh retreated to his room and a book soon after to give them some privacy and to wile away the hours until sleep came for him.

He woke in the small hours of the morning to a sound that invaded his dreams, but whose identity refused to stay in his semi-conscious mind. He stayed as he lay, on one side, one ear and eye were buried in his pillow. Through the haze of sleep, his other eye could see that the moon still hung high in the sky outside his window. His free ear twitched about like a periscope to find what had woken him. A nebulous, and increasingly familiar, unease grew in the pit of his gut.

He closed his free eye again. In the dark, he listened.

In her room, his sister neighed in her sleep as she had since they were foals. She had denied it nearly as long.

In Granny's room, Twilight snored quietly.

All around him the old house settled and creaked from its generations of use.

Outside, a filly cried.

Macintosh opened his eye, simply staring at the moon for a long moment. When he rose it was with a soft sigh. He crossed to the window. The sound came clearer and, without mistake, it came from the barn. The cries were weak, muffled across distance and old wood. If his ears were telling the truth, nopony else in the house heard it.

He stood there, the sounds eating at him. He hated them; had for most of his life. Gone were the screams of a half-feral beast in need. He could handle those. Replacing them were the desperate, impotent sobs of a little filly who just lost her parents, clinging to her older brother and begging him to make it all better.

He swore to himself then that he would do everything he could to make sure he never heard her cry again. The human wasn't Applejack, but it was that promise that silenced the logical part of his mind that told him to wake the mares. That promise that made him slip silently from the house and soon had him peering into a darkened barn for a human with only a beam of moonlight from the hay loft door to see by.

He found her on her knees in a shadowed corner of the barn, visible only as a silvered outline, but clear nonetheless. She was stark naked now, bowed forward to press her forehead against the cold steel of the ancient anvil. One arm crossed her chest, mauling the opposite breast with her fingers. The other vanished between her legs, the whole arm jerking violently. He had no illusions about what her hand was doing.

"Hello?" he asked as gently as he could. He got no response.

"Hello?" He tried again, louder. The human jumped, falling back onto her rump. She stared at him in the darkness. She held the gaze as she slid her legs beneath her, shifting to hands and knees, crawling toward him. She came into the light, he could see her wild eyes, her open mouth. She kept coming, never breaking eye contact until her wrist caught on a length of binding twine that sent her face first into the dirt.

Macintosh stared She lay there, not pushing herself up. Instead, she dragged her arms across the rough dirt floor, crossing her chest to grip her upper arms on the other side with her hands. She pulled tight, hugging herself, the strain across her back obvious on her thin frame even in the half-light. She lay there, face in the dirt, new sobs rocking her body.

"thiz 'iz unt mi," she said between sobs, the first clear words Macintosh had heard from her, even if he had no idea what they meant. They were rough, harsh, without the whinny and neigh of the Equestrian tongue. "ai'm naut ei huer..."

The stallion moved to her side, leaned down and nuzzled her cheek. The human immediately sobbed again. Macintosh quickly lifted his head to give her space. She moved fast, much faster than Macintosh would have expected from something in her condition. One hand caught his mane before he could get away. She pulled herself up by that handhold, arms wrapping around his thick neck and burying her face into his shoulder, muffling her sobs with his flesh.

Macintosh looked down at her, stunned, then lowered his head across her back to return the hug as best her could. The scent of her heat was thicker than before. He couldn't ignore it, but tried to push it from his mind.

"hwots rwang with mi?" she asked into his neck, "wahy dohz it hert? wahy kant ai kuhm?"

He let her hold him as hard as she wanted, as long as she wanted. How long they were like that, he never knew nor cared to. Slowly she poured out her tears into him. Through it all he silently prayed to Celestia that she not notice what she and her wonderful scent were doing to him.

Eventually her grip on him relaxed, she rocked back onto her knees, taking her weight from his neck though she still held him. Her hands slid lightly up the line of his mane, gripping behind his ears. He felt her pull his head gently downward as she pulled her head back to look him in the eye.

"pleez," she said. Macintosh didn't need a translation, the way she held her eyes told him all he needed.

"Are ya'll sure?" Macintosh asked. Right then, deep down, a part of him awoken by her was yelling at him to stop looking for reasons not to and take the mare.

"pleez," she repeated, "ai heyt thiz, buht it hertz soh muhch! pleez!" A fresh stream of tears slid down her cheeks.

Macintosh nodded as his answer and gently pressed his muzzle against her chest, guiding her down onto the floor.

"thangk-yoo" she cried out as her back touched earth. Her hands pushed his head down towards her crotch. She needn't have bothered. Macintosh was already quite ready and eager to taste her again. Neither were disappointed. She came quickly again, a mere four draws of his tongue across her cunny sent her over the edge. This time, however, Macintosh wanted more.

As her orgasm hit her and her body acted on its own she finally released her grip on Macintosh's head. Free, Macintosh reared up slightly, catching her thighs under his massive hooves and pinning them to ground. In the next moment his nose was again planted into her, his tongue drawing across and into her. For a moment she struggled, her hands weakly pushing against his hoof and forehead. She soon gave in to the second wave of pleasure. Her hands fell to the ground, fingers digging and groping for any purchase, her hips moved on their own into him.

In some ever more distant, rational part of Macintosh's mind, he was thankful that this mare didn't scream out during sex like another he'd known.

A few scant minutes later, far too soon for Macintosh, she stiffened again as her orgasm shook her. This time, when she fell limp he let her. He looked down at her quivering body. All of her was laid open to him, her head lolled to the side. He wanted more. He had never taken a mare in this position. He spared a thought to draping her tired form over a hay bale, but she looked so content that he didn't have the heart. Besides, he had always wanted to try it this way, and no mare he'd been with had ever refused him. He lifted his forehooves from her legs and planted them on either side of her torso. He lined up his body with hers and began lowering himself down onto her.

She made a tiny, confused noise as the fur on his legs began to press against her exposed skin. Her head turning to look at him, her eyes went wide. They filled with horror when she glanced down at the vanishing space between them. Her hands, weak and uncertain, flew down to grapple with the ankles of his forehooves, her body squirmed and writhed to push herself up and out from under him.

Reality smashed back into Macintosh's head, breaking through the heady haze of the heat. No longer was it a willing mare beneath him, but now a scared human once more. He reared back, throwing himself off of her. He awkwardly pirouetted on his hind hooves, ready to bolt as soon as his forehooves met earth.

"weyt!" the human cried out. Macintosh glanced back. Distracted, he failed to notice a discarded shovel until his forehoof landed on it. His ankle twisted, he his footing and tumbled to the ground.

Beside him the human slowly rose to her feet and stepped into the column of moonlight. "weyt," she said again, more calmly. She held hands out in front of her, fingers spread wide, palms toward the stallion.

Macintosh stared up at her. He didn't move from where he was sprawled. He didn't dare. There, silhouetted in the Luna's light, he saw the legend, if only for a few seconds. Cast in silver negative, her frailty vanished; her movements were fluid, sure, but alien. She knelt down beside him, one exotic, silver hand reached to his hind leg and coaxed it aside.

"aim sawr-ee" she said, "heer. mai boifrend yoozd tu meyk mi du thiz. pleez, leht mi."

Her other hand slipped unseen through the shadows, appearing between his legs. Her fingers wrapped around his cock one by one, smallest to largest, deliberately slowly. Macintosh let out a groan.

A few years ago one of his marefriends had tried to do the same with the crook of her ankle. At the time he'd considered her amazingly skilled in the bedroom. That was nothing compared to what this human was doing to him just by holding him. Each finger played differently, the pressure subtly changing every second. He could only watch as she began to explore him. She was in no hurry.

The other hand joined the first on him, fingers tracing veins up and down his length, then around underside of the rim of the glans. She was smiling, he realized, and looking at his face. The second hand slid down, cupping his balls, gently kneading them in a way no pony could ever hope to emulate. She gently blew across the tip and Big Macintosh was reduced to a whimper.

Macintosh could already feel the end coming and cursed his own frustrated libido. He clenched his teeth hard to stave off the inevitable; then he clenched his hips, then buttocks, thighs, gut and finally chest to buy himself another second or two, forcing down until his breath was a strained wheeze.

She flashed him a silver smile and opened her mouth.

"Wait..." he groaned, reaching a forehoof toward her.

If she heard, if she understood, she ignored him. Her mouth lowered, taking him inside, her tongue sliding down the underside of his member on the way.

Macintosh's hips bucked up against his will, though he was miraculously able to keep the thrust contained to a mere few inches. He came.

The human's eyes went wide. She drew back and off of him, already coughing and hacking. A second spray caught her in the face before she could turn away. The third spattered across her left hand, which she thrust between his penis and her face as she fell to hands and knees. What was left was a dribble that never touched her.

The human stayed doubled over, coughing and spitting into a growing puddle of phlegm, semen and spittle. The fingers of her dripping left hand scraping fluid from her face and casting it down there as well. A pang of guilt hit the stallion as he caught his breath. He found her a cloth on a worktable and brought it to her. She blinked as she took it, then smiled sadly at him. Macintosh found her a washbasin and another cloth and helped wipe her clean.

When she was done the human pulled the suddenly confused stallion into a tight hug. She released him to step out of the moonlight where she sat her rump onto a bale of hay in the same dark corner he'd found her in. She sniffled once.

"thi nahysest gai ahyv ev-er bin with iz ei hawrs..." She said. Even in the dark Macintosh knew she wasn't really speaking to him. He followed her into the gloom, sitting just to her right, his haunches on the ground. He felt one of her hands rest on his withers. He looked forward, not at her. It felt wrong to stare.

She began to talk and Macintosh let her. There was no reason to stop her, nor did he want to, despite not understanding her language. They sat like that for what seemed like an age, though only a few minutes passed. What she was saying, he would never know. He didn't even really hear her. Soon, he found himself fighting his body again. His cock became erect again, sliding out of its sheath despite his attempts to keep it in place. He was grateful for the darkness that kept it hidden.

Throughout their time there Macintosh became more and more aware of her. Her presence, her scent, the warmth of her. She was falling deeper and deeper into a heat the likes of which Macintosh had never heard of. The power of her scent was more than any one pony mare could hope to produce, though not more than a whole village, of course. Still, it scared him. The part of him that was rational, that remembered the fear on her face when he tried to mount her screamed for him to leave, to flee into the forest and find a nicely-sized knothole to relieve himself with.

The part that had held the crying human, that held a crying filly so many years ago, refused to let him move.

He hated both. He hated himself and the slow, nagging betrayal of his body.

A new voice appeared amongst the warring pieces of Big Macintosh's mind. It poked at him, screamed at him to pay attention. Something wasn't right. He blinked and came back to the present.

"...I just don't know why this is happening," the human said, "why am I here? What's happening to me? Why do I need it so badly it hurts?"

The realization came slowly to the stallion. His gaze inched toward the human beside him. In the light of the false dawn he saw not the flat profile of a human's face, but the rounded muzzle of a mare's.

Macintosh pushed to his feet, silently cursing the stiffness that his clenching had left in his legs. He stumbled as he raced for the light switch.

"What? What's wrong?" the human yelled after him.

Macintosh hit the switch, light filled the old barn. The stallion gaped. Nopony would have called what stood in the middle of his barn 'human.'

"What...?" the human asked, shrugging with her hands. She stopped mid-gesture, stared at what was left of her left hand and screamed. Three of the five fingers had fused together, the end capped with gnarled bone. Deep blue fur covered it all, spreading halfway up the forearm. She brought her right hand up to her face.

"Ah wouldn't..." Macintosh said.

She didn't listen. She pressed her human hand to her cheek, to fur and muzzle. She screamed again. She lost her footing, scrambling backwards on her buttocks, propelled by her legs. She tried to scrape off the fur of her arm with the nails on her good hand.

"But..." she said, "I don't... how..." She looked at him, a new horror blooming behind her amber pony eyes. Her eyes followed the line of his body to his again erect penis. "Oh god, no." She breathed, "Oh God! I swallowed some of it!" She spun over onto her knees, two fingers on her still-human hand jammed down her throat. She gagged and coughed, but nothing came up.

She fell over, clutching her stomach with her hand and the beginnings of a hoof. From where he stood Macintosh watched a line of dark blue fur sprout down the line of her spine. The beginnings of a tail sprouted out from between her buttocks. The air filled with a sudden explosion of her musk which only continued to thicken until Macintosh could barely think. Only when he felt a line of drool drip from his mouth did he snap his head to the side to shake as much of the haze as he could from his fevered mind. He bolted for the door, to Applejack and Twilight with a muddled prayer that they might be able to fix this.

"Wait!" the human yelled just before he reached the threshold. He turned back to see her dragging herself towards him on a nearly complete forehoof. "Please... I don't care anymore, just make it stop..."

Macintosh looked to the door, then to the half-mare. He wanted her and it hurt to fight it. It hurt to think. She was the source of the pain and the promise of relief. She wanted it too, there was no reason not to indulge. Macintosh stopped thinking.

He grabbed the newly growing mane on her neck with his teeth and pushed her face first over a hay bale. She didn't object. He climbed on top of his mare.

"Please don't be rough," his mare pleaded as he lowered himself onto her.

He tried to tell her he'd try, but all that came out was a loud nicker. He lined himself up as best her could and thrust forward. The first two missed, sliding down under his mare's belly without finding purchase and eliciting little whimpers from her. The third struck home. He groaned deeply at how tight she was, unlike any other mare he'd been with. Then hit a note of disappointment when he bottomed out with nearly half his length still outside.

"Please, don't stop..." his mare said from underneath him, her voice barely a whisper.

He was forced to use short strokes, but they were fast and strong, her whimpered pleas for more driving him on. She came at least twice, but Macintosh's addled mind barely noticed, nor did he let her rest. He grabbed her growing mane between his teeth and pinned her down and thrust hard one last time, driving her and the hay forward across the dirt floor as he emptied himself inside of her. His legs and haunches clenched and thrust long after he had collapsed on top of her.

He stayed there coupled with her, pinning her to the hay, panting into her mane.

Clarity returned briefly with his release. Over the blood pounding in his ears and the ragged gasps of he and his mare he heard two sets of galloping hooves approaching the barn. He heard a familiar voice, a mare, yell something. He didn't understand it, it was too distant, too unimportant.

The mare beneath him was important. She was wonderful, she smelled wonderful and better by the moment. He was still inside of her, still hard. He could feel her insides flow and change around him, turning liquid and allowing him deeper inside. Soon all of him was inside and warm. She was his.

"More..." came a sobbed whimper beneath him.

He obliged.

*********************************************************************

Big Macintosh woke on a sea of angry blades of grass, the sun searing his face. He tried to open his eyes, but Celestia burned them for his trouble. He tried to roll over to his hooves and found only pain in every joint. He fell back onto the sharp grass and was rewarded with an explosion between his temples and a mouth filled with the taste of old cheese and burnt bits. He covered his eyes with his hooves and resolved to never move again.

He had to pee.

The trip to the bush was an agonizing ordeal. All he would remember later would be his head throbbing in time with his heartbeat and cursing the rusting leaves for being so loud. Actually peeing, he remembered.

It felt as though somepony had threaded sandpaper into his urethra up to his navel, unrolled it and was slowly drawing it back out. Worse, he couldn't stop. He tried, and the flow halted for a moment only to start again. He was in agony and couldn't help but cry out. The ordeal brought back the events of the previous night.

He emerged on wobbling legs to find Applejack there waiting for him, a surgical mask across her muzzle and a bucket of water balanced on her back. Only then did he realize he'd awoken in a clearing in the Acres.

"Ah see you're finally awake," she said. Even in his addled state, even through the mask, Macintosh didn't miss the edge in her voice. "And don't even think of askin' me to kiss that one better. Now, what in the hay happened last night?"

She bucked her rump sending the bucket into the air to land in front of Macintosh. He didn't wait for an invitation, he plunged his head down into the icy water and drank until he could breath again, then drank the rest. It helped. Oh, Celestia, it helped.

"Where are we?" Macintosh asked, "what happened?"

"That's what ah'm asking," Applejack asked, poking Macintosh once in the shoulder for emphasis. He silently wished she wouldn't, but doubted her learning what it did to his head would stop her. "As for where? We had to drag your sorry flank outta that barn after you finally passed out. Place was so thick with it Twi' tried to stuff me with her horn."

"Is she alright?" Macintosh asked.

"Twi's fine. Now."

"Ah meant..."

"Ah know what ya meant." Applejack glared at him, then waved a hoof for him to follow. They walked maybe a hundred yards through the apple trees to another clearing. There stood Twilight Sparkle, also wearing a surgical mask. Beside her on a makeshift bed lay a deep blue, straw maned unicorn mare. The mare on the bed was normal in every way, except that her left hind leg ended with a set of human toes instead of a hoof. Her bones continued to change and flow, but the process was slower now, barely noticeable when watched.

"There you go, Big Macintosh," Applejack said. Macintosh didn't missed his sister using his full name, nor the emphasis she put on it. "Why don't ya'll ask Twi how she's doing?"

Twilight blinked. "I'm doing fine, why?"

Applejack rolled her eyes. Macintosh said, "how's she doing Twilight?"

"She's... normal, except for that," Twilight said, pointing a hoof at the mare's foot. "But I don't understand. This shouldn't be possible. What happened last night?"

"Ah'm itching to hear that one mahself," Applejack said.

Burning white light bloomed through the clearing, blinding all three ponies in it. Macintosh hit the ground, hooves on his head to hold back the red hot spikes trying to bore their way out.

And then it was over. The pain was gone. He cautiously opened his eyes to see the mares both bowing and the Royal Princess of the Morning standing over them all.

"Twilight Sparkle!" Celestia's version of the Royal Canterlot Voice boomed, "where is the... oh."

"Princess," Twilight said, rising, "I can explain."

Celestia shook her head, crestfallen. "There is no need for that, Twilight. I know all too well." She looked to Big Macintosh, whose belly still touched the ground. "I assume you were the one to change her."

Macintosh swallowed, suddenly feeling very small. "Eyup."

Celestia gave him a sad smile. With her hoof she lifted his chin so she could look him in the eye. "Macintosh, you can't blame yourself for this. You couldn't know what a human would do to you. This is my fault. Had I told Twilight about them ahead of time, had I read her letter when it arrived, none of this would have happened."

"Uh, Princess, ah don't mean to pry, but what did happen here?" Applejack asked.

Celestia paused for a moment, sending up a flare from her horn. "This human was poached." She paused a moment, taking in the three blank stares. "She was stolen from her home and brought to Equestria to be sold."

"Why?" Twilight asked, nearly yelling.

Celestia sighed deeply. "Because they are rare and valuable. It pains me to admit this, but there is always a price for such things. Twilight, you must understand. There is no magic in the human world. Humans that are brought here are overwhelmed by the magic in ours and are changed by it. For males, the process is slow and subtle, but females always go into heat, absorbing magic from anything." She looked at Macintosh. "Especially other creatures.

"Nothing, and nopony, can resist them, and they become whatever they took the most magic from." She gave Twilight a meaningful look. "Or whatever took them. Over a hundred human females are brought to Equestria every year, and I will not tell you the horrors that are inflicted upon them. It is one of the worst crimes in all Equestria."

Celestia paused, looking at her subjects, giving them a moment. When none spoke she continued.

"I'm sorry Twilight, I didn't read your letter because my sister, the royal guard and I were looking for this human. We found a summoner casting the spell and disrupted it. We never expected to find her this far away."

Two pegasus guards descended into the clearing, the royal carriage trailing behind them. They bowed to their princess on landing, she nodded in return. Without a word they moved to stand beside the new-made unicorn.

Twilight looked to her mentor. "Princess? What will happen to her?"

"We will give her a new life. New memories. Try to find her a place."

"Princess," Twilight said, "what do you mean? New memories? Can't you send her home?"

A sad shake of her head. "No, Twilight, I can't. Nopony, nothing, can undo a human's change. Not even the Elements of Harmony. I have tried. The change destroys who they were, damages their memories. The best we can do is to gather the fragments and try to give them a new life." She looked down at her pupil. "I'm sorry Twilight."

The princess lowered her head, crossing necks with Twilight for a brief hug. She stepped back, moving to stand with her guard beside the unicorn. She lowered her horn, touching it to the former human's head. There was a flash of light. When it cleared, the unicorn's change was complete, on her flank was the image of an easel.

The blue unicorn's head lifted off the bed, her eyes blinking blearily as she took in her surroundings. "Princess Celestia? Where am I?"

"You are safe, my little pony," Celestia said warmly, "do you remember your name?"

The unicorn rose unsteadily to her feet and gave Celestia a look as though she thought she were crazy. The look quickly dissolved into confusion, then to fear. Her eyes brimmed with tears.

"It's alright," Celestia said, "take your time. You've been through so much, you can take as long as you need."

The unicorn sniffled and nodded. Her brow creased. "Flourish," she said slowly, "I think my name is Flourish."

The princess smiled. "Very good. Now Flourish, will you please come with me?" She pointed her horn to the carriage.

"Yes, of course, Princess," the blue unicorn said. She obediently climbed into the carriage. "But Princess, I don't remember anything... at all. What happened?"

Celestia stepped up beside the unicorn. "For now, all you need to know is that these good ponies helped save you from something terrible and cared for you last night."

Flourish looked to Celestia, then to Applejack, Twilight and Big Macintosh. "Oh. Thank you. I'm sorry, I don't remember."

"Ah reckon maybe that's for the best," Applejack said.

"Gentlecolts?" Celestia said, "Let's get this filly home."

With that the guardponies reared and took to the sky, carrying the carriage with them. Flourish waved down to the ponies on the ground as she took off, Applejack, Twilight and Macintosh waved back until she and the carriage were well out of sight.

The three stood silent and alone in the clearing, staring towards Canterlot.

"Am ah the only one who noticed her accent's the same as Lyra's?" Applejack finally asked.

*********************************************************************

Author's Note: If you're reading this, thanks for staying with me. It's said that all writer's write to exorcise demons, and that's kind of what this is. Not sure why it came to my head, but it wouldn't leave until I did this, but, hey, it was a fun ride and I hope you enjoyed it with me.

I may continue this, the rabbit hole for this story goes pretty deep. We'll see.

Lyra

Heat and Desire
Chapter 2: Lyra
By
The Incognito Brony
(Brony Incognito elsewhere)

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit fan made work of fiction written for fun and to finally get this idea out of my head.

Fair warning, this is a very strange and very dark story with badly written sex that descends into the realm of rape. You have been warned.

I do not own My Little Pony in any part, nor is this intended to infringe on any copyright or license owned by Hasbro or anyone else. If you actually read this disclaimer, you deserve a cookie.

**************************************************************************************

The interview was a show. Tomorrow the Canterlot Academy of Fine Arts would have a new student. Clair Obscur knew this, had known for over a month. She did, technically, have the final say over what happened in her school, but one does not refuse a personal request from her Princess. Nopony with a soul would have turned the filly away after learning all the details.

Celestia, why did she have to tell her the details?

Regardless, the unicorn across from her had passed all the required tests and her cutie mark attested to her talent. She had been enthusiastic from the moment she'd walked through the door, far more than Clair would have thought possible, considering. The doors of the academy would open for her with or without the Princess' request.

And yet, to Clair's right sat a list of questions and topics she was to bring up, all carefully selected by Celestia herself. There was one left.

The show had to go on.

"My dear," Clair said, "I understand how this may be difficult given your unique circumstances, but what can you tell me of your training? Your file says you studied in Manehattan?"

The filly's smile faded for the first time, her eyes lowered. "I'm sorry Miss Obscur, I don't remember. I can't remember anything before..." She trailed off.

"The kidnapping. I understand," Clair said. "On that subject, Her Majesty has asked me to remind you that the ponies responsible are still at large. If you should remember anything, anything at all, I would ask that you tell the faculty or myself as soon as possible." She paused. "During your stay with us, of course."

The unicorn's smile returned. "Does that mean...?"

"Yes. Welcome to CAFA, Lyra."

***********************************************************************

There were days Bon-Bon wanted to hate Lyra. It was the way she grinned; that satisfied, saccharine joie de vivre. It was infectious.

Today had been primed and set to be Bon-Bon's worst birthday ever. Princess Luna would be visiting Ponyville in a week so the mayor had forced her to be at the shop before dawn. Then Her Honour had ridden her all day long, rejecting every sweet she'd made, then leaving her with the mess at day's end. She'd kicked the door to her home open nearly two hours late ready to scream into a pillow and cut a bloody swath through anything that dared offend her sight.

The door had flown open to reveal the lights of her home turned low, the scent of sandalwood filling the air. She'd stepped inside, dumbfounded, barely sparing a thought to closing the door behind her. On cue, the music had started: Lyra's lyre. It came slow and soothing. Less a song than Lyra playing with the silence, piercing it with perfect notes. Sunlight through the forest's leaves.

Bon-Bon had found her wife in the bedroom they shared. There, in the wavering glow of candles she'd seen her, sitting on the bed as nopony else could: her rump on the mattress, her back straight and resting on their headboard. In the crook of one foreleg she cradled her lyre, strumming with the other hoof, her magic illuminating the strings of her instrument.

She wore a bright red ribbon around her sage horn tied into a bow, and a smile. That smile.

Bon-Bon had worked up a perfectly good mad and now it was going to go to waste. A tiny smile came to her lips. Sometimes she really wanted to hate Lyra.

Lyra stopped playing then and slid lithely down from the bed, standing on only her two hind legs. She turned away to place her lyre onto its stand, only then letting her front end drop and come down onto all fours. Lyra fussed with her instrument for a few moments, waving her tail in exactly the way polite fillies are taught not to.

A familiar shiver rose up Bon-Bon's spine. She and Lyra had been together for six years and neither time nor familiarity had stolen an ounce of her desire for the unicorn; not that Bon-Bon made a habit of telling Lyra that, of course.

Bon-Bon stepped up behind her wife, her eyes unabashedly glued to Lyra's backside while the unicorn wasn't looking.

"It's been a bad day, Lyra," Bon-Bon said. She tried to sound tired. However it came out Lyra's response was to turn, toss her that same infectious smile and slip in to nuzzle her. Bon-Bon sighed and leaned into the embrace. She murmured happily when she felt Lyra kiss her cheek. Her wife kissed along the line of Bon-Bon's jaw, blazing a loving trail down to her neck. She laid one kiss on that tender flesh, then Lyra's head quickly darted up, her tongue flicking along the cusp of her ear. Bon-Bon gasped and took a startled step back.

"I hate it when you do that!" Bon-Bon yelled, or tried to. It came out as a laugh. It felt so good to laugh.

"I know," Lyra said. "Happy Birthday." Another quick nuzzle.

Bon-Bon pointed her chin at Lyra's horn. "Are you my present?"

Lyra's smile widened enough that her teeth showed. "Aloe owed me a favour," she said, nodding her chin toward their bed.

Bon-Bon's brow creased. "What kind of favour?" Lyra just grinned at her. Bon-Bon looked from the bed to her wife, gave her a look, then climbed up on the mattress to lie on her stomach. "Like this?"

"Perfect." Lyra joined her on the bed, then reared back onto the hocks and cannons of her hind legs. The unicorn shifted and shimmied, awkwardly kicking a leg over Bon-Bon.

Bon-Bon craned her neck back. Lyra was straddling her, back straight up, rump on her rump. Most of her weight was on her legs. How Lyra managed to balance like that Bon-Bon would never understand.

The drawer of Lyra's side table opened, a small bottle sheathed in the unicorn's green magic floated out. Bon-Bon was about to ask when it upended over her, pouring a thin line of warm oil along her spine. The oil soaked into her fur. Lyra's hooves kneaded it in to help it along. It left her feeling silken. When Lyra touched her, it felt as though her lover's hooves were caressing her flesh directly.

"Ow, gently," Bon-Bon said when Lyra's hooves began to knead deeper into her oiled shoulders. Her lover had found an uncomfortable knot almost immediately, though a few practiced kneads had it loosened. A few more and it was gone entirely. Bon-Bon sighed happily and melted into the mattress. Lyra was good, she had to admit. Who her wife had practiced on to get so good was a question Bon-Bon would get an answer to, however.

Later.

Maybe tomorrow.

Why was she mad, again?

Lyra took her time kneading Bon-Bon. For nearly half an hour she kneaded and caressed, coaxing tension out of the earth pony's body. Bon-Bon couldn't remember when she'd felt so relaxed. Her body was turning to jelly under the attention her wife's hooves were giving her. She was on the edge of falling into a pleasant, calm sleep when she heard the buzz. One of Lyra's forehooves appeared on the mattress beside Bon-Bon's head, the bed forming a divot underneath as it accepted her weight.

"Don't fall asleep yet," Lyra whispered into her ear.

"Oh," Bon-Bon said, starting slightly. She felt the vibrator, a gift for Lyra's last birthday, press against her sex. No penetration, Lyra held the toy broadside against her. She rubbed it deeper until the lips opened to kiss it, until the vibrations shuddered against tender flesh and the glow of Lyra's magic made her tingle.

She felt Lyra's weight shift back onto her rump. Skilled forehooves again worked their magic on her back. Lower, the vibrator eased back and forth against her under Lyra's magical guidance. She melted deeper into the mattress, biting her pillow to keep her moans to a minimum. Her hips still rocked gently against the vibrator.

"Oh Celestia, thank you for making me marry a musician," Bon-Bon sighed.

"I'm sorry, what?" She could hear the smug on Lyra's face.

"I said you're an evil pony," Bon-Bon moaned into the down. Lyra laughed. She didn't stop. Bon-Bon would have hurt her if she had.

No dam burst for Bon-Bon when she came, only a blissfully slow wave that flowed over her leaving sweet release in its wake, a shuddering sigh slipped from her lips. The vibrator moved away from her, the buzzing stopped a second later. Lyra's ministrations stopped, the weight on her rump moved away. A warm body laid down and curled up beside her. Bon-Bon wondered briefly where her bones had gone. She'd need those later.

The last thing Bon-Bon knew before unconsciousness claimed her was a loving voice whispering, "Happy Birthday."

***********************************************************************

She hit hard. A towel wrapped around her midsection her only protection from the cold stone floor. She tried to stand, but was smashed back down by a sudden weight on her back. Dazed, her head pressed to the floor, she saw hooves surround her. Small pastel-coloured horses held ropes in their mouths. They tied them around her wrists and dragged her hands behind her back.

Her brain rebelled, reality was wrong. Her mind swam to make sense.

She screamed as her towel was torn away. She caught the briefest glimpse of it being held in the teeth of a maroon horse before it was thrown into small pile of clothes.

Rough teeth grabbed her hair, pulling her up onto her knees. She could see now that she was in a stone dungeon, something out of a bad King Arthur movie. Over a dozen of the pastel horses were in there with her. Four were unicorns; three of which looked exhausted, the horn on the last glowed brightly.

There were two other people in the room as well, both women, both bound like her. One slightly older than her, maybe twenty five. She struggled against four horses as they ripped pieces of a business suit from her body with their teeth. The other, likely not quite out of her teens, was naked. She had a rope lassoed around her neck. The horses pulled her down into a corridor lined with barred doors.

Nearby, the magic around the unicorn's horn exploded in a bright flash. Another human, a heavyset young man, appeared several feet off of the ground. He made a noise, then smacked into the ground in front of the horse. Other horses descended on him. She lost sight of him when a horse threw a lasso over her head. The horse pulled, she tried to fight. Her reward was to be struck hard in the throat by the slipknot and being unable to breathe.

She coughed, losing her balance and falling face first. She yelped, unable to bring her hands forward to protect herself. One of the horses grabbed her hair again, stopping her just before her nose broke on the stone. She screamed at the pain in her scalp. The horse ignored her, jerking her back to her knees. A hoof to the back quickly had her on her feet.

This time, when the horse pulled, she obeyed. She let him pull her down the corridor and into one of the cells. A human-sized pile of hay and a stone seat were all that were inside. There wasn't even a window. The place smelled of urine.

The door closed behind her, the lock snapped home and realization dawned. She spun back to the door, nearly losing her balance again in the process, to bang against the steel bars with her shoulder. "What's going on?" she yelled, "I didn't do anything wrong! Let me go!"

A pastel horse came into view, spun and kicked the bars of the door with his hind legs. The door let out a resounding clang. She looked down and saw two large dents in the steel. She took an involuntary step back, feet crossing. She tripped. Helpless to stop herself, she mercifully fell onto the hay. It still hurt.

Out in the corridor she saw two of the larger pastel horses walk backwards past her cell. Together, they dragged the older woman down the hall. She was unconscious, blood and the beginnings of a bruise on her forehead.

********************************************************************

"Lyra?" Bon-Bon asked. The green unicorn was squirming around in her sleep. Her breathing came in ragged gasps and whimpers. "Lyra? Lyra!" Bob-Bon finally yelled.

Lyra sat bolt upright, no mean feat for a pony, sweat matting her fur. She sat there panting for a moment, eyes darting around the room. Her breath caught and she flopped back down onto her pillow.

Bon-Bon cupped her wife's cheek with her hoof and nuzzled her on the other side. "It's alright now, Lyra. It was just a dream."

Lyra wrapped her forelegs around her. Bon-Bon held her close in the dark. In time she felt Lyra's breathing slow and she slipped back into sleep.

********************************************************************

The guards were all castrated. There was a word for it with horses, she knew there was, but what it was escaped her. She guessed that they passed by every twenty minutes, she had no way to be sure of the time. Every time they went by she got a good look between their legs. She looked every time, and she hated herself for it. She told herself each time that the next time she wouldn't look, but every time they passed, she did. She didn't even know why she did.

She sat beside the cell door, back to the stone wall. Her arms were still tied behind her. Her shoulders ached, and the cold stone only made it worse. Still, there she sat, waiting for the guard to come by again, just to give her something to look at. Even if that something was a scar.

Hours passed in silence broken only by the muffled crying of the teenager in the next cell and the soft clop-clop of walking hooves. The guards didn't talk. A few more dents on her door had made it clear that they didn't want her talking either. She'd heard nothing from the older woman since they'd dragged her past. She hoped the woman would be all right. The man had been dragged down another corridor. She'd heard him being taken. Where he was, she had no idea.

She spent a few guard cycles looking around her cell, poking things with her toes. She hoped to find something sharp enough to cut her ropes, or maybe a loose stone. Her imagined Indiana Jones escape never came though. All she discovered was that the stone seat she'd noticed earlier had an eight-inch hole bored into it, straight through the floor. It was her toilet.

Eventually the guards left, new ones taking their place. They were all castrated too.

Gelding. That was the word.

The new guards brought food. They slid a plate of mealy bread and a bucket of water through a hatch on her door. She cursed them for not given her utensils. Even if there were, she later reasoned, her arms were still tied. She refused to touch what they gave her. She heard the girl in the next cell tear into hers almost immediately.

One of the guards stopped as he walked by. His coat was the colour of a peach, his short-cropped mane and tail a deep red. There was the image of a small peach on his hind leg. He looked to her and to her food. He leaned in close, whispering something to her. He sounded concerned, but she didn't understand a word. He moved on a second later.

He passed her several more times during his shift, but he didn't stop again. She couldn't help but notice that the scars between his legs were much more ragged than the others.

More time passed. She lost count of how many times the guards went by. Eventually the guards changed again, the first ones were back. They took her food away through the hatch. She almost tried to stop them.

Time wore on. Her body began to rebel. A heat began to grow between her legs, slowly at first, but that wasn't the worst. That honour belonged building pressure in her gut. More than the pain in her shoulders, more than the cold, more than the gnawing hunger, that ate at her more than any other. She glared at the toilet, resolving not to give those damn horses the satisfaction.

In the end, she lasted through about half of the current shift. Unable to clean herself, she let herself flop down onto the cold floor. She didn't want to get what counted as her bed dirty. That bit of logic actually made her laugh when she thought about it. She still didn't move. Nor did she cry; she was proud of that. She wouldn't give them any more.

Hours later, still shivering on the floor, she was staring at the hatch in her door. Her hunger gnawed at her, actually painful now, and her throat was parched. The shift change would be soon. Maybe they'd bring something for her. She'd give them that much, but she still refused to cry. She wouldn't let them break her.

She heard a door open down the hall. Hooves clopped in, hooves clopped out. Voices spoke, not that she could understand them. A larger, though still rather small, unicorn appeared in front of her cell door. The bigger horse wore a hooded cloak that covered his sides and flank and wore a garish masquerade mask on his face. Even so, she could see his coat was a brilliant white and a golden mane crept out around the edges of the hood.

He was also no gelding. Two of the guards flanked him. She recognized money, even in a horse.

Big Horse peered in at her, said something. One of the guards responded. She didn't like the way he looked at her. She closed her eyes, pressing her forehead hard on the cold floor to distract herself from her hunger and him.

Big Horse moved on. The process repeated itself twice more. Apparently done, the three horses started walking back up the corridor. When they stopped again it was in front of her cell, though that only registered to her when her door clicked open.

She looked up in time to see the guards coming in. One pressed a hoof on her chest, the other pushed a rag against her nose. The world went black before she could struggle.

**********************************************************************

Bon-Bon returned home to find Lyra lying between the couch and coffee table groaning in pain at the nasty bump on her head. The unicorn was tangled in a blanket, a pillow nearby on the floor. Bon-Bon tsked to herself, going over to help her wife free and back onto the sofa. Then she slipped into the kitchen to get her a washcloth full of ice. Lyra took it gratefully, holding it to her head with her magic. The earth pony climbed up to lie beside her wife. "Was it the nightmare again?"

Lyra nodded. "I still can't remember anything, but I can't stop my hooves from shaking." She held up one of her forehooves to prove her point.

Bon-Bon covered her wife's hoof with her own, gently coaxing it down to the cushions. She pressed her cheek against Lyra's. The unicorn sighed and pressed back into the nuzzle.

"It's been almost two years since the last time you had them," Bon-Bon said. She smiled slyly against her wife's cheek. "I'll help you forget again. Maybe they won't come back."

"I need to remember," Lyra whispered. Bon-Bon answered with a sigh and by nuzzling deeper, then turning her muzzle to Lyra's. They kissed, slow and sweet. Bon-Bon felt the tension in Lyra's body fade, the unicorn shifting slightly to place as much of her body against Bon-Bon's as she could, to feel, to touch. The washcloth fell away, forgotten. It opened as it fell, the ice inside landing in the crease between their bodies.

"Cold!" Bon-Bon shrieked. Both ponies kicked away from the chill, Bon-bon flying clean off the couch. She found herself on her back on the floor blinking up at the ceiling. She heard a certain unicorn snickering above her. "Laugh and die," she deadpanned.

***********************************************************************

Three sets of eyes locked onto Bon-Bon the instant she opened the door. The owl just cocked his head to the side, then tucked his beak back under his wing. The baby dragon stood in the threshold to another room with two steaming mugs in his claws.

"Hey, Bon-Bon. What brings you here?"

"Hi Spike, I'm here to see Twilight," Bon-Bon said. The pony she'd come to see had looked up from her reading table when she'd entered and just seemed surprised the door had opened at all.

"Um... hi?" Twilight Sparkle said, her head cocking to the side like the owl's. The dragon put down the mugs, elbowed her and jerked a thumb towards Bon-Bon. "Oh... Oh!"

The purple pony reared up onto her hind legs and clapped her hooves together excitedly. "My first real customer!" She dropped back down to all fours and gave Bon-Bon an unnervingly wide grin. "Welcome to the Ponyville Public Library. What kind of book are you looking for?"

"Actually, Miss Sparkle, I'm here to ask you a favour."

************************************************************************

Three things would have made Bon-Bon feel much better about the situation. Actually, quite a few things would have made her feel better. Her wife having never been kidnapped and having memories of life before college came to mind. Right now, however, she would settle for three.

First and foremost would be if she could understand at least half of what Twilight was saying. The unicorn was trying, Celestia bless her, but the whiteboard and the action figures just weren't helping.

Second, she would have much preferred to be somewhere else and not in a basement where nopony could hear her or her wife scream.

Third, she wished that the thing strapped to Lyra's head hadn't started its career as a colander. The blinking lights on it weren't exactly filling her with confidence either.

Lyra, Bon-Bon, Spike and Twilight were all in the one room basement of the Ponyville library, somewhere beneath where the tree that made up the building gave way to earth. The roots of the great tree made up much of the walls, the rest was hard-packed earth and stone. It made the whole place smell like the woods after a rain. Along the walls were bookcases carved into the earth and contraptions Bon-Bon couldn't even begin to guess at. One, which took up an entire side of the room, was centered around a giant jar of bubbling green liquid. It was either an intricate device to study the delicate flows of magic through the ancient tree, or it made pudding. Either seemed as likely.

The floor was, thankfully, wooden. Bon-Bon didn't need to fear the something coming up out of the ground on top of everything else. To one side of the room Lyra lay on a bed, the aforementioned former kitchen utensil strapped behind her horn. It was connected to another contraption, this one resembling a stove on stilts minus the door, via a series of cables.

Twilight finished her speech and turned to the two ponies and one dragon of her audience. The action figure representing Bon-Bon spontaneously caught fire. Twilight didn't notice.

"I think that's everything," Twilight said. "Are you ready?"

Bon-Bon and Lyra exchanged looks. "Yes?" they said together.

"Great!" Twilight said. Her horn began to glow. A giant circuit breaker on the wall behind her did the same.

***********************************************************************

She woke between silk sheets under a satin duvet. In the moment between sleep and waking she sighed, feeling the fabrics between her fingers. Her eyes blinked open, she pulled her hand out from under the covers.

It was free. A thin red line on her wrist betrayed where the ropes had held her, but they were long since gone. She pushed herself up to sit against the headboard and gave herself a once over. She was still in the buff, but she was gloriously clean. Scrubbed, even.

She finally looked up and around. Her entire apartment could have fit in the room she was in now. The ceiling was ten foot high at least, lined with gilded moulding. The floor was covered in a richly patterned gold and green carpet. Along one wall were a pair of windows. From where she sat she could only see the vaulted ceiling of another larger room and four thick brass chains hanging down. She guessed that she was on the second floor of wherever she was.

The room itself was sparsely furnished. A few plush and extremely oversized chairs sat in the corners beneath wall sconces. Her bed, a luxurious red king, sat with the headboard against the wall opposite the door. Beside the bed were a set of side tables; on one was something that immediately made her mouth water.

She scooted her butt over to the side of the bed. Waiting there was a large Dutch oven on a thick wooden serving platter. She gingerly reached out to find it nicely warm, but not hot. The next instant had the oven on her lap. It was filled nearly to the brim with a thick white paste that smelled heavenly. She checked for utensils, but there were none. Undeterred, she scooped up a glob on two fingers and popped it into her mouth: Butter mashed potatoes with a hint of basmati rice. The rich starch coated her throat with a delicious warmth. A dozen more mouthfuls quickly followed.

A lump in her throat stopped her. She quickly checked the table for water. A large glass bottle set on the floor provided. She downed half of it in a draught. Sated for the moment, she wiped tears she hadn't felt coming from her eyes with the heel of her hand. She sniffled and ate again, much slower now.

A few more mouthfuls in she noticed the chains in the next room shaking. Puzzled and no longer starving she carefully set the Dutch oven down on the bed beside her and the bottle on the side table. She got up, sliding her bare feet onto that lavish carpet. She was careful to keep her breasts below the window frame as she approached. She immediately wished she hadn't eaten. The food stayed down, but it was a near thing.

She'd been right about her room being on the second floor. The windows overlooked a massive dining hall, at least a forty yards long and half that wide. Two tables ran up the room the long way, both covered with small fortunes worth of food. At the head of the room was a stage.

The room was filled with those small, pastel horses. Dozens of them. Normal ones, unicorns and ones with wings. All wearing masks and cloaks, all staring up at the stage and most of them fucking each other. She was surprised how easily it was to identify the mares, even up here. There were more of them than stallions. She saw a few of those gelding guards down there as well, a few of them resisting being pulled into the orgy by unattended mares who, even then, didn't take their eyes off the show.

On that stage stood a giant cage, and it was this that their eyes were on. Inside, a huge lion with the wings of a bat and the tail of a scorpion, both blood red. Under him, and it was definitely a him, was the woman she'd seen dragged past her cell in the dungeon. The woman was bent over what she could only identify as a pommel horse, hands behind her back. Whether it was the weight of the monster on her back or ropes that held her there she didn't know, nor did she want to learn. The woman screamed as the beast thrust its hips into her.

The young woman in the bedroom couldn't hear any of it. The room was soundproofed, she realized. Small comfort.

She looked away. Her gaze fell on the brass chains she'd first seen. They fell from the roof, ending in domed cages. In each of the four was a person, three women, two apparently in their early twenties, the third the girl from dungeon. The fourth person was the heavyset man from earlier. They all watched the stage, all having figured out what waited for them.

A horse stepped out from behind the stage's curtain, it was Big Horse, or at least he looked like him. Big Horse said something and a cheer went up among the pastel horses. The domed cages all glowed with a magical light for a second, then the bottoms swung open, dropping their human cargo down into the mass of bodies below.

Three fell and were caught by a similar glow just before they hit the tables. The horses poured over the people like ants on a fresh carcass. They were gone from sight save for the brief gasp of a struggling arm or leg. The last person, a slightly too-thin brunette, clung onto her cage, her feet kicking at empty air beneath her. Two of the unicorns beneath her made their horns glow. The same glow wrapped around the poor woman's legs.

It was obvious the woman was screaming, even without sound. The unicorns' magic pulled on her, dragging her down. The woman clung on regardless. When her grip finally failed her she snapped down like a taught elastic and crashed onto the table below. None of the horses caught her. She too vanished into the flood of bodies.

Back in the bedroom, the young woman backed away from the window. She swallowed down a lump of potato and bile that rose into her throat, one hand involuntarily touching her neck.

"Oh God, what is this place?" she asked no one.

The door clicked and opened, allowing the 'host' and the sounds of the sadistic orgy below to enter. A white glow of magic closed the door, sealing off the orgy but leaving her alone with the masked horse. She covered herself with her arms and backed away towards the bed. He smiled at her for it. Then he spoke, a kind of smug neigh. As he talked he motioned to her with a hoof, then to the window. He finished by turning to show her his profile. It was impossible for her not to see the erect cock under him. Part of her liked how it looked. He waggled his eyebrows over his mask when he caught her staring.

She knew slime and this horse was drowning in it. Understanding the language or not, she understood the message: do what I want, or get thrown to the wolves. Not the first time she'd faced that one.

Big Horse advanced on her. He was calm, arrogant, acting for all the world like she should be honoured she was in the room with him. A dark part of her had to admit that, yes, she probably was, but also that it would apply even without the threats.

By the time Big Horse reached the foot of the bed the young woman was pressing her butt against the side table. He cocked an eyebrow at her, then glared. He said something, an order, and angrily jerked his head towards the bed.

She shook her head. "No," she said.

He repeated. So did she.

His horn glowed white. She felt the magic before she saw it. It wrapped around her forearms, tingling with pins and needles like a sleeping foot. It went deep, straight to the bone. She had to grit her teeth against it.

Then she was in the air, pulled from the ground by her arms. She landed face down on the duvet, arms pinned by the magic. As she watched, the parts of her flesh glowing with magic started to sprout sage green hairs. She yelled and kicked and squirmed to get free, but to no avail. A hoof pressed down on her back and the magic let her go.

Her arms free again, she began clawing at the bed linens, desperate to find a handhold to pull herself out from under the horse. Big Horse's weight held her down, though. He laughed as he lined himself up, his cock resting between her buttocks.

Her hand closed over the rim of the Dutch oven. She heaved.

Big Horse was off her in a second. She flipped over on the bed. The pot dangled from his horn in a way that would have made her laugh on another day. The mush was splattered all over his body. When the pot fell away she saw that his eyes were wide. He looked down at himself in horror. He was so engrossed in the mess that was his body that he didn't notice her grab the wooden serving tray until it smashed him in the side of the head.

A surge of adrenaline, and more than a little pride, filled the young woman. She brought the tray down again and again, stopping only when the thing snapped in half against his skull, the broken end pinwheeling across the room. By then he was nothing but a whimpering pile of entitlement. She left him and ran for the door.

The sound of the orgy hit her as soon as the door opened, but she pressed on through it. Naked, scared and confused, she bounded down the first set of stairs she found. She ran through the door at the bottom and stopped in her tracks.

She was on the stage. Directly in front of her was that monster, still raping the woman who had, mercifully, passed out. Blood red wings were budding on the woman's back. She risked a glance at her own arms, at the green fur that slowly spread there. She shook her head impotently.

There were pastel horses coming for her, she realized, bringing her back to the now. Gelding guards were coming for her through the crowd, some abandoning a post at the great door across the room from her. Other horses simply came at her seeking to pull her into their mass of sex.

She jumped over one such stallion, her feet hitting one of the long tables. She bolted down it, leaping and skipping over piles of writhing bodies. Hooves and teeth reached for her as she went by. She gave the people she knew were under those piles a silent apology. There was nothing she could do for them.

Halfway across the room she felt the painful tingle of magic wrap around her left leg, pulling. The grip never fully closed, but it sent her flying ass over teakettle. She rolled along the wooden table, destroying food and breaking apart couples. More hooves groped at her when she came to rest covered in haute cuisine and other stuff she didn't want to thing about. She kicked out, scoring a hit to a guard's nose. Soon she was on her feet again, sprinting for the door. Two guards had remained, however. She quickly found and literally ducked through a side door; the frame was barely four feet tall. She slammed the door shut behind her, found a lock and threw it closed.

The door opened into a hallway, the ceiling more than high enough for her to stand. She ran down the hall, turning a corner at the end. She came across two other mini-horses: one a gelding guard, the other a masked stallion. The stallion was mounting the guard. All three stared at each other in shock. Behind her, she heard the door start to break apart. The two stallions fumbled to come after her. She ducked into another door.

She was in another bedroom. This one wasn't quite as opulent as the one she'd woken up in, but better than any she'd stayed in before. She locked this door as well. A quick look spotted her a handy dresser, which she pushed to barricade the door. She tried to move the bed too, but couldn't. She jumped out the window instead.

It was a country club. At least that's what she would have called it back home. The building, which she would have called a Tudor mansion, sat at the center of expansive grounds. In front of her were a series of pools, tennis courts and open fields that extended at least a quarter mile out to a thick hedgerow that served as a fence and stretched to the front gate, which she could just barely see from where she was. Several guards stood that way. Behind the house she saw a large hedge maze that backed onto a darkened forested. She made a break for the maze.

The young woman ran hard, legs burning and throat rasped raw, but still she ran. She told herself not to look back, just to run. She couldn't help herself. As she hit the entrance to the maze she spared a glance. They were after her, gelding guards all, hammering their way across the grass to get her. They were more than halfway there.

She entered the maze, picking directions as random. First left, then right, right again, straight. The ground inside was less well kept than the grounds had been. Stones and loose twigs bruised and cut her bare feet. She pressed on, not daring to stop. When she heard the guards just on the other side of the hedges she would let herself rest for a moment, not breathing. Once they'd left, she pushed herself on, heading deeper. She thanked whatever might be watching over her that none of the guards were winged horses like she'd seen.

Eventually, feet bleeding and torn, she found herself at the back edge of the maze. The grounds were even less well tended here. The forest somehow seemed darker from up close. She pushed into the hedge anyway, taking countless nicks and cuts from the shrubs. When she emerged on the other side, she was in the forest. She pressed on, moving parallel to the forest's edge, but letting herself walk now.

Time lost meaning inside the woods. She'd entered in bright daylight, but it may as well have been midnight inside. She heard things, creatures, lurking around just out of sight. More than once she threw a rock into the bushes. It seemed to ward them off for a while.

She hated it, but part of her yearned to just lay down and let them come. The adrenaline from the chase had kept her focused, but here, away from everything, even light, she began to feel her body. Her body grew hot, eager. She wanted release, even to turn around and let the horses take her.

She just wanted to not want it more. She grit her teeth and marched on, occasionally hitting her head or a fist against a tree. Pain helped. Kept her focused. Kept her sane. Kept her human.

She couldn't see it happen, but over time she felt her hands twist and gnarl. She lost her fingers to whatever infection Big Horse had given her.

Infection. It was the only word she could think of for it.

Later, her left foot changed as well. She hobbled on anyway. It proved to be a mixed blessing, her twisted toes hardened and no longer hurt to walk on. She started putting more and more weight on it. The problem was that, without the pain in her feet, she began to lose her edge against her need.

The animals slowly became more bold, leaving for less and less time with each rock, though she supposed that could be partly due to how much harder it was to throw rocks without fingers. She saw something ahead. It was another of the lion-things. She forced herself to run to the tree line. She heard it following behind her, then stop as she hit the forest's edge.

She emerged into dying light of the day, just before true twilight. Finally, she let herself rest under a pine tree a safe distance from the woods. She checked herself. The infection was spreading. Her hands and foot were gone, truly gone, hooves were there in their place. She'd expected it, but actually seeing them was different. Made it realer, somehow. The fur on her arms was well past her elbows , nearly to her shoulders. The spread on her leg, thankfully, was still below the knee. It was spreading fast, maybe there was still time.

She tried to stand back up, but didn't have the strength. Instead, she leaned back against that tree. She needed to catch her breath. She was somewhat hidden from sight under the pine. A few minutes couldn't hurt, she reasoned, and let her eyes close.

She woke screaming, not with pain, but with need. She rolled over holding her stomach. The infection was moving through her faster, she felt it rippling down her spine. Her tailbone broke and stretched. Worse, despite it all, she desperately needed something inside her. She tried to scream in frustration, it came out a whimper.

Hoof by hoof, she pulled herself out from under the pine. Out, she forced herself to her mismatched feet. She had no choice. She'd risk the horses finding her.

"Someone?" she called out as loudly as she could, "anyone? Help!"

She got no answer, so she tried again, and again. The pain in her still-human foot helped force back the need. She trudged on, and on. She would have cried when she stumbled on a cobblestone road, but her tears were all used up by then. Still, she called out.

Twice she stumbled and fell onto the cobblestones, and twice she pushed herself back up. She went down a third time just after moonrise. She tried to get up, but there was nothing left in her. Exhaustion claimed her soon after, bringing her into merciful, dreamless sleep.

************************************************************************

Pony woke up warm in a soft thing. Pony liked warm, so she liked soft thing. Pony opened her eyes. There was a littler pony there looking at her. He had a pointy thing on his head. Pony crossed her eyes to look at her head. There was a pointy thing there too!

"Dad!" Littler-Pony yelled, "she's waking up!"

Bigger-Pointy-Head-Pony came in. He seemed nice. "She is? Thank Celestia. You had us worried, little miss."

Pony smiled at the ponies. They were nice.

"Dad? What's wrong with her? Her eyes..."

"I... don't know. Son, call the doctor."

More ponies came. They were nice. There was Shiny-Thing-On-Head-Pony who poked her and made her say 'aaah' and stuck a thing in her mouth, then gave her a sweet thing on a stick. There was the Pony everypony called 'Mayor.' He was nice, but seemed scared.

Everypony seemed a bit scared around Pony, but it was okay. They were all nice and gave her yummy things and kept her warm.

Two ponies with flappy things showed up and took Pony outside. They put her on a metal thing and Pony flew to this place with lots of tall stone living places. Pony didn't like the flying much. Flappy-Thing-Ponies took her to see Big-Pony-With-Flappy-Things-And-Pointy-Thing. She was very nice.

Big-Pony looked sad, but she was pretty.

"Please, try to remember. What happened to you?" Big Pony asked.

Pony shrugged. Ponies kept trying to make her do the mouth-word things, but they were hard.

Big Pony put her head down and put her pointy thing on Pony. Pony's head felt heavy and she fell asleep.

**********************************************************************

She pushed herself up onto four hooves, shaking her head. Things were clear again. Fractured, but clear.

"My little pony? Are you alright?" somepony asked.

She blinked her bleary eyes and looked up, then quickly back down when she realized who it was. "Princess!" she said, "Where am I? What's going on?"

"You are safe. Now." Celestia said, "you have been through a terrible ordeal. Please, do you remember your name?"

She blinked, then swallowed.

"Take your time. You have all the time you need. Don't rush."

She nodded. "Yes. Yes, it's Lyra."

************************************************************************

The sky was clear that night, Luna's moon hung full above the horizon. The evening air carried the first hints of winter in with it along with the dull musk of fallen leaves as a reminder that autumn was still here. Bon-Bon was on her balcony, hooves on her railing, looking up into that sky. Up to the stars.

She was alone. Her wife was asleep. She'd earned it. The day had been hard on Lyra. Harder than she let on. Lyra had told them everything. She didn't see faces, but she remembered where they'd taken her. A letter had been sent to Celestia. The bastards who had hurt her wife would pay. It was finally over.

It was over.

She swallowed a lump in her throat.

"Hey," a voice said from behind her, "there you are. The bed got cold."

Lyra walked up beside her, put her forehooves up onto the railing and let out a yawn.

"Pretty night," Lyra said.

"Beautiful."

"The stars are really bright."

"Luna outdid herself."

"I think I come from that one."

Bon-Bon sniffed. "It's beautiful."

Lyra gave her a look. "No, no, no. Not that one, little to the left."

"Lyra..."

"It's the little dingy one. Look, look where I'm pointing."

"Lyra, please..."

"I remember some of it now. I used to live in a city with millions of humans everywhere." Lyra's mouth opened into a grin. "One of them even broke into my apartment when I was out."

"Lyra, I understand if you... what?"

Lyra's face fell into a frown. "I had to buy a new door. My parents would have lent me some money for it, but they died when I was at college. Had to drop out. I hated that apartment."

"Lyra what are you...?"

"Then my boyfriend dumped me. Jerk anyway. When he found out I liked girls he wanted to tape it. Hated the city too. Kept trying to get out. Maybe buy a house in a nice little town. Marry a total hottie. You know, the kind with really sensitive ears?"

Bon-Bon only just registered the movement before she felt a quick wet tongue slip along the cusp of her ear. She immediately swiped at it with a hoof.

"I hate it when you do that!" Bon-Bon yelled, laughing. She blinked at Lyra who wore that same damnable grin.

Sometimes, she really wanted to hate Lyra.

************************************************************************

Author's note: It's always amazing to see where you end up with something like this. Frankly, surprised I've continued, but it's been fun and worthwhile. Writer's block'll do that to you. May be more to come. The rabbit hole continues.

Fuchsia

Heat and Desire
Chapter 3: Fuchsia
By
The Incognito Brony
(Brony Incognito elsewhere)

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit fan made work of fiction written for fun and to finally get this idea out of my head.

Fair warning, this is a very strange and very dark story with badly written sex that descends into the realm of rape. You have been warned.

I do not own My Little Pony in any part, nor is this intended to infringe on any copyright or license owned by Hasbro or anyone else. If you actually read this disclaimer, you deserve a cookie.

************************************************************************

A lone unicorn moved down the narrow alleys of Lower Canterlot, her way lit only by the predawn glow and what little castoff from the streetlamps trickled in this far. She moved with surety and grace. She knew the way better than she cared to admit. Her path between buildings opened up above an underpass. She stepped gingerly over the guardrail and made her way down to the carriage road below.

She entered the tunnel, stopping at a door built into the wall. A key from her saddlebags opened the door. She slipped inside.

The room had originally been built as a rest stop for guardponies watching the road in the early days of Canterlot. Later it was a waypoint for night patrols. It hadn't served either purpose for over a generation. The room was a simple square made of old brick. A cot sat in one corner, a centuries old potbelly stove in another. A pony of modest means could have made a home here.

The unicorn placed her saddlebags on the cot, careful not to stir up any dust. She pulled a mask from one of the bags with her magic. It was a tacky thing made from bright orange peacock feathers. She put it on. It covered every part of her face above the nose, except her horn, which poked out rather obtusely through the plumage. Ordinarily, she would have never been caught dead in something so unseemly. In fact, nopony would ever believe that she would wear such a thing.

Which, of course, was the point.

She pulled a grey cloak from the other saddlebag and slipped it on as well. The expertly cut fabric fell neatly over her back and sides with special care taken to ensure her cutie mark would stay hidden. The cut rose high on her white rump, riding over the base of her pink tail ensure that it, and everything below, stayed free.

She pulled up the cloak's hood, carefully tucking the edges behind the orange feathers. Gaudily dressed as she was, there was no reason a lady couldn't be presentable. She teased a few wisps of pink mane out to lay over one shoulder.

She'd become Fuchsia once more.

She sat in the room's only chair and waited. Butterflies started to form in her stomach.

The carriage arrived as the sun's light began to fill the streets, but long before it appeared over the buildings. Inside the room, she heard the driver come up to her door and stop. A perfect count of thirty seconds passed, followed by the quiet ringing of a bell.

She could, of course, simply stay where she was. She knew the protocol. The driver would ring four times, then leave. No questions asked.

A thirty count. The bell.

She was out the door during the third chime.

The carriage stood directly in front of her door leaving only a few scant feet of clearance. Had both doors opened outwards, they could have touched. The carriage itself was large, though unassuming. The only noteworthy thing about it was a lack of windows. A large Earth pony stood strapped into the harness up front, a bell in his mouth. He placed it on the carriage when she appeared.

"Dreadfully sorry for the wait, my good colt." She locked the door behind her, then slipped the key into a pocket inside her cloak.

"Ma'am," was all the driver said.

Fuchsia opened the door to the carriage and stepped inside. It was as plain inside as out. A lamp hanging from the ceiling provided light; enough to read by had she brought a book. Simple, but comfortably padded benches lined the walls front and back. She laid down on the one in back. The door glowed white as she closed it. The carriage started moving moments later.

It stopped again a few minutes later. She had no idea where.

A thirty count, the bell.

And again.

The butterflies returned to her stomach, threatening to tie it in a knot.

At least somepony had a conscience.

The carriage moved again. The trip was longer this time. Blind to the outside world, she heard the sounds of Canterlot waking up. Her nose told her when they passed a bakery, the rich smells inviting.

The carriage stopped again.

A thirty count, the bell.

Fuchsia counted to twelve before the door swung open. She could see they were in an alley, but nothing else. Two smiling Earth ponies, both in masks and cloaks, climbed in to join her.

"Mr. and Mrs. Coal." Fuchsia said. "So good to see you. It's been quite some time."

Mr. Coal laid down on the bench opposite Fuchsia. He was an older stallion, sturdily built. Fuchsia had always assumed that the husband and wife had taken their names from his colouring: jet for his mane and a reddish black that reminded Fuchsia of dried blood for his coat.

Mrs. Coal came over and wrapped her hooves around Fuchsia's neck. "Fuchsia, dear, it's been too long!" The mare was around the same age as her husband, but was a deep red with a mane that had gone white long before its time.

The Coals wore the same grey cloak as Fuchsia, but wore matching masks made of polished wood. Both were carved in the likeness of a griffin skull. Neither looked threatening, however, a fact that had always surprised Fuchsia. The Coals had easy smiles that made their eyes dance.

"Oh, my!" Mrs. Coal said when the carriage moved again, making her stumble. She laughed lightly before joining her husband on the seat. "Silly me. Fuchsia dear, it really has been too long. How have you been?"

"Now, Dear," Mr. Coal said. "You know we're not supposed to ask that."

"Oh, nonsense. What harm could it do?" She gave her husband with a dismissive little wave of a hoof. Her eyes suddenly grew excited. "Oh! Fuchsia, I have to know. Have you ever been in heat?"

The younger mare blinked. "Why, yes, actually. I grew up in Pony... in a small town. Why do you ask?"

Mrs. Coal smiled wide. "Oh, but you are a lucky filly. Do you know that it was only this year that I found out what I'd been missing. I've never been out of Canterlot in the spring before."

Mr. Coal cleared his throat. "Well now, Dear, there were a few years we were in Manehattan."

"Oh, that doesn't count. They use the same spell there that Celestia does."

"I'm just being clear, Dear."

Mrs. Coal waved her husband off again. "Well now, Fuchsia, Mr. Coal and I were in the zebra lands this spring. We were visiting with an exporter there, you see, we wanted to see what woods they had that we couldn't get here."

"Dear..."

"Oh, shush. Well, we'd always been in Canterlot so we never even thought about what time of year it was." Mrs. Coal laughed. "It was during our second week there. Well, if I didn't go into heat like a little filly. You should have seen my Tea... Mr. Coal. He was so gallant, keeping all those zebra stallions away."

"I just wanted you all to myself." He put a hoof over his wife's shoulders. They shared a nuzzle, their masks clacking together.

"Ahem," Fuchsia said quietly when the two were about to kiss. The couple laughed.

"Don't be so modest, Fuchsia," Mr. Coal said. "I remember how close the three of us got at last summer's Seasonal."

Fuchsia felt a touch of warmth hit her cheeks. "It's just not proper to start a soiree before the host." Both Coals laughed. It was an honest, easy laugh. She envied them that.

Mrs. Coal ended with a sigh. "It's sad though. I know why they use those spells, we were lucky I didn't come home with a foal on the way, but its such a shame they don't let the fillies feel it."

"We're planning to go to Trottingham this spring," Mr. Coal said. "The town is small enough that they still have a heat."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Coal, but I'm afraid you won't be allowed into town," Fuchsia said.

"What?" Mrs. Coal asked.

"Why not?" asked her husband.

"In the town where I grew up, we sent away all the foals and stallions when the mares went into heat. We simply couldn't let them stay."

The older couple looked at each other, the light of the lamp cast Mrs. Coal's face in shadow.

"You should still go, Dear," Mr. Coal said.

"Oh, no, I wouldn't want to without you there."

Mr. Coal gave his wife a nuzzle. "Don't worry about me. All I need is a jar of Heated Mare and I can't tell the difference."

"Ahem," Fuchsia said. "We are on our way to the Winter Masquerade."

"Oh, yes, Fuchsia dear, I know," Mrs. Coal said. "But it just isn't the same. The humans are so lovely, Celestia bless them, but they just aren't the real thing." She sighed lightly.

Her husband squeezed her close. The couple shared a moment.

"We almost didn't come this time," Mrs. Coal said. Her voice was a little quieter, her movements a touch more reserved. "After the zebra lands, we thought we would just wait until next spring since the real thing is so much better."

"For the fillies, anyway." Mr. Coal laughed. "And forty thousand bits is a lot of money."

"You pay...?" Fuchsia stopped herself. She demurely cleared her throat. "Of course. For the pair of you."

"Of course," Mr. Coal said.

"That's why we didn't come in the summer or autumn, Fuchsia dear. The zebra lands, not the bits. But it just got so hard to wait for spring. When the invitation came all I could think about was how the humans made me feel..." She trailed off. Her eyes lowered to look at the carriage floor.

"You always are, Dear." Mr. Coal laid his neck over his wife's. "Don't you ever think anything else."

Mrs. Coal lifted her neck to press into her husband, then laughed. "It is an awful lot of bits, though. Sometimes I wonder if we could just buy our own human for that much. It's too bad they're so hard to look after. And all those silly laws. And then finding them a good home after they've turned into ponies." She sighed again, wistful this time. "Still, can you imagine having one of those big dears all to ourselves? The darling would probably wear poor Mr. Coal and I right out."

Mrs. Coal gave Fuchsia a dismissive little wave. "You know how they are."

Fuchsia smiled back at the older mare. Her old drama coach would have been proud. "Oh yes, of course. Sometimes it seems like a blessing that they change so quickly."

"We could get you a male," Mr. Coal said to his wife. "I've heard some of the others talking. Even the other stallions swear by them. They say that they last longer and something about 'better draw, less absorption.' Whatever the hay that means."

"Oh, but we'd have nowhere to put the darling. And you'd get so jealous."

Mr. Coal nudged his wife. "I would. But I don't even know where to start looking for one. Can a pony buy human food? How much are they, really?"

"Mine was a hundred and fifty thousand bits," Fuchsia said.

"Really, now, you owned one?"

"Please, Fuchsia dear, tell us."

Fuchsia crossed her forehooves, resting her cloaked head against the side of the coach. She was careful to smooth the orange feathers against to wall to avoid creasing them. A smile crept onto her face. "It was a few years ago. There's no polite way to say it, but my human was a runt, though that was why the price was so reasonable. I would never have bought him if the supplier had another, but it was fashionable in our circle to have had a human. At the time, of course. It was a year or two before you joined us, I believe.

"I had him nearly a month before I had to send the letter to have him taken away. His life must have been hard in his world because I had him kissing my hoof in days. I doubt I'll ever forget his eyes, or the way his hips could move."

"It is a rather nice hoof." Mr. Coal received a playful elbow to the ribs for that.

"He sounds... oh, are we there?"

The carriage came to a stop. Thirty seconds later came the chime of the bell. Mr. Coal slipped past his wife, opened the door and stepped out onto the snow-covered ground outside. He raised a hoof and helped his wife down from the carriage.

Fuchsia looked outside. The light glaring up from the snow blinded her after the trip in the darker carriage.

Thirty seconds after the first, a second bell rang out.

As before, four bells and the driver would take her home. No questions asked.

Outside, Mr. Coal held up his hoof to help her down from the carriage.

She took it.

Fuchsia hit the snow-covered ground with a crunch. She still had to squint against the sun, but the chill air was invigorating and carried a hint of cedar in it. When her eyes adjusted enough to see clearly she saw the familiar high walled brick mansion. All through the grounds there were other cloaked ponies milling about and emerging from other carriages. The crowd was slowly converging on the door where two guardponies stood to take their invitations and usher them inside.

Fuchsia and the Coals made their way toward the door, stopping for the necessary pleasantries with other guests. A sense of déjà vu hit Fuchsia as they approached. She found herself looking at one of the guards. He was a gelding, obviously, all of the guards were. He had a peach coat and a red mane. It hit her.

"Fuchsia dear, are you alright?" Mrs. Coal asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm fine, it's nothing, Mrs. Coal. I just knew that guard when I was a filly."

"Don't you worry, dear, he won't recognize you."

To Fuchsia's relief, Mrs. Coal was right. The guard didn't bat an eye as she walked up to the door. She passed her invitation to him with her magic. He nodded and the door opened for her. She stepped through a touch more quickly than she meant.

The grand hall stretched out in front of her. At the far end, a storey tall stained glass window of the Royal Pony Sisters caught the early morning sun to cast the hall in columns of golds, violets, pinks, greens and blues. Above, four large brass cages hung from the ceiling by chains as thick as Fuchsia's thigh. Inside each cage was a human.

Directly under the cages, two long tables ran the length of the room. Food covered both, save for an open space immediately under each of the cages. There were dozens of place settings along the tables. Bottles of fine wine and decorative plates of confectioneries sat in strategic positions down the middle. A stage stood at the far end, currently empty.

A score of ponies were already in the hall, finding their places, beginning their breakfast and chatting animatedly about this or that.

"Oh my, I forgot how beautiful they are," Mrs. Coal said beside Fuchsia. She was looking up at the cages. "Fuchsia dear, look, they have a male for you." Sure enough, there was a male in one of the cages nearest the stage.

"Dear, look." Mr. Coal nudged his wife. He nodded toward the nearer cage over the same table as the male.

"A Copper! Oh, isn't she something, dear?"

Inside the cage was a female with a deeper, more coppered skin than the kind their hosts usually brought for the Masquerade. This kind had a darker, straighter mane than the others and usually darker eyes as well. Her muzzle was also a little flatter than the usual. The way this one held her eyes, Fuchsia knew that she would be a fighter. A solid half of those already assembled had chosen seats under her.

"Fuchsia dear, I know you have your eye on the male. Would you be terribly insulted if we found a seat before there aren't any left near her?"

"Mrs. Coal, I insist that you do." Fuchsia gave the mare a smile. Mrs. Coal gave her a kiss on the cheek in return. She and her husband all but skipped over to find their place.

Fuchsia made her way over to the male's part of the table. It was the most sparsely populated so far. Only two other mares and a pegasus stallion sat there. She found a seat on the outside of the table and sat down.

The trickle of ponies continued until some fifty bodies filled the hall, though a few place settings were left unoccupied. Breakfast began in earnest once everypony was seated. The hall filled with the clatter of silverware, the voices and laughter of the ponies as they ate and chatted.

Fuchsia didn't really participate in the talking, only eating her meal in silence except to answer the pegasus stallion when he asked a question. She found herself thinking, not for the first time, that the room had to be filled with the upper echelon of Canterlot, or at least Equestrian, society. Few others could afford the invitations. Her own had cost fifteen thousand bits. And yet the atmosphere felt more like it had during the festivals in her hometown.

She finished her meal as a fresh knot tied up her stomach. She looked over to the door of the hall where she knew a peach coloured gelding would be, albeit on the other side.

She was surprised to actually see him. He and three other guards stood at the door talking quickly, though she had no hope of hearing them. The door opened and two more guards came in.

A scream no pony throat could make cut the air. Everypony went quiet for a moment before their voices rose in a cheer. Fuchsia turned her head back to the stage. A female human was being forced to center stage where two other ponies were setting up a wooden frame. Their host, Mr. White, followed her out. Fuchsia looked back to the door.

"Again?" said a mare beside Fuchsia. "I miss the manticore. How long has it been since we've seen him?"

"Over a year." It was the pegasus on Fuchsia's other side. "I overheard one of the staff say that The Management glutted the market on manticores. The zoos can only handle so many breeding pairs."

Fuchsia ignored them. She narrowed her eyes at the door and the guards near it. One was gesturing wildly, at them, at the door, at the stage. Another opened the door a crack and stuck his head out, then slammed it shut. All six turned and ran to the side of the room, and then up along the wall parallel to the table. They tugged open a door a dozen paces away from where Fuchsia sat. Nopony else seemed to notice, all eyes on the stage. She was warring with herself about asking when the hall's great door ceased to be.

A fireball ripped through the doorframe, then exploded. Ponies nearest the door were knocked from their seats, a few were thrown. Masks and shredded cloaks, torn from bodies by the blast, filled the air. A wooden griffin skull bounced off the table next to Fuchsia, skittering off onto the floor.

She looked and saw Mrs. Coal trying to get to her hooves. Her face and flanks now bare, she recognized Pine Root; along with her husband, Teak Root, she was one half of Canterlot's most celebrated cabinetmaker team.

As the smoke in the doorframe began to clear, the most famous pony in all Equestria became visible. Armoured pegasi streamed into the hall around their princess, leaping onto the disoriented ponies and pinning to the ground.

Everywhere, ponies began to scramble. Teak Root, now as naked as his wife, tackled a pegasus off of Pine. Pegasus partygoers took to the air, making for the stained glass window only to have a lightning bolt shatter it. Electricity arced between the winged ponies, dropping most of them. The glass fell away to reveal the Princess of the Night silhouetted against the sun. More armoured pegasi flew past her after the ones she'd missed.

Fuchsia scrambled out of her seat. Out of the corner of her eye she caught the red tail of her peach guard vanish through the door. She followed him. The guards ran down the hallway on the other side and into a study. One of the lead guards popped a panel off a wall near the fireplace and the others streamed through the hole. Fuchsia hesitated.

"We don't have time for this!" The last guard in line grabbed her horn roughly with his teeth and hauled her through the hole before she could complain. The one with the panel slipped through and quickly replaced it.

The unicorn now found herself in what amounted to a dimly lit stone box with earthen stairs leading underground. One of the guards grabbed an oil lamp from the wall, another lit it and the lot of them made their way down.

"Wait..." Fuchsia began, the sound of the study door shattering silenced her. She followed the guards down into the Earth.

The stairs led to an earth and stone tunnel propped up by wooden buttresses. An iron rail ran down the middle. The guards ran hard, they didn't wait for her. Fuchsia tried to keep up but she was no athlete. Soon she could only see their backs, then their tails. Before long all she could see of them was a faint glow up ahead, then nothing. She stopped running.

She called light to her horn to see. She passed other tunnels and branches leading off from hers, but she kept on, following the rail.

Eventually, after what felt like miles of darkness, she saw light up ahead and found the strength to run again. She tore through the mouth of the tunnel into the blinding, mid-morning sun and stumbled through the shallow snow. She wanted to cheer, but fought the urge down.

A forest clearing surrounded her. She looked around. Fresh hoofprints led out of the tunnel's mouth. No woodsmare was she, but she guessed at least a dozen ponies had come through ahead of her. A bit more looking found a small pile of discarded masquerade masks and cloaks under a bush. Mr. White's garish mask was among them. She added hers to it, casting off Fuchsia and becoming herself again.

Finally, she noticed an old sign hidden by snow and underbrush: 'Whitetail Ridge Coal Mine.'

Geography had never been her strong point, a fact compounded by the fact that she didn't actually know where the mansion was. How far she had come, she didn't know, but she knew the Whitetail Woods to be near her old hometown.

The tunnel had exhausted her, but she still had a long way to go. Fleur started the long trip home to Canterlot.

************************************************************************

Night had fallen long before Fleur reached Canterlot and midnight had come and gone by the time she made it to her Upper Canterlot neighbourhood. As she walked the darkened streets she had to strain to keep her eyes focused straight ahead and not darting into every shadow. She kept having visions of the Royal Guard or, worse, one of the princesses leaping out and throwing her to the ground.

Of her being dragged away through the streets for all to see. How she'd be remembered as a monster or a cautionary tale about celebrity excess.

"You are Fleur de Lis," she told herself. "You are Fleur de Lis."

She repeated it over and over until she actually started to believe it again. She was Fleur de Lis: model and socialite extraordinaire. She held her muzzle high and proud. Her exhaustion showed, she couldn't completely hide it, but the few ponies out at this hour paid her no special notice.

A model coming home exhausted after midnight? Old news.

She came up to her front door, and went inside. She went around her house, drawing all the curtains shut, adding an intentional extra little glow and flourish to it for anypony who might be watching. She flung the last one shut, sealing the world outside and herself in.

Fleur de Lis the socialite fell away, she couldn't hold it any longer. In her place was Fleur, the very tired mare.

She heard something move outside and froze, her blood turning to ice. Her front door was about to explode. She knew it.

It didn't happen.

She let herself breathe again.

Slowly, muscles seeping acid with each motion, she made her way to her bathroom. Her magic twisted the taps. Steaming water poured down from the showerhead into the tub.

She stepped into the spray, hissing at the scalding water but didn't turn it down. She reared back onto her hind hooves, resting her forehooves on the tiled wall to balance. She plunged her head face first into the stream, reveling in hot pain on sensitive flesh before letting her head hang. The water poured down her back.

She stayed like that for an hour, trying desperately to tell herself that she could feel clean again. She only left when the heater finally gave up the ghost and the water went cold.

************************************************************************

"Oh, Celestia! Yes! Harder!" Fleur cried. "Yes! More! Buck me harder, Fancy!"

And the award for keeping a straight face goes to...

Fleur cursed herself. She had to keep her mind on what she was doing.

She had her hind hooves were on the floor, the rest of her draped across her bed. Fancy Pants was on top of her, his forehooves on the bed near her shoulders, his cock inside her and his hips bucking with wild abandon. He had his nose pressed into her neck where she'd dabbed a bit of Heated Mare.

"Yes! More!" She threw her head from side to side, her mane flying about, whipping Fancy's head. The stallion's thrusts came shorter. He was getting close.

Fleur shifted a hind hoof slightly to the side. She tensed her thigh just so... and... released. Her leg and hip twitched and quivered. She lifted her head high and screamed wordlessly.

Fancy bit her neck and thrust in a final time. His body jerked as he came, emptying himself inside of her. They both sighed. Fleur pressed her face down into the sheets. Fancy let her go and kissed her behind the ear.

"Thank you, my dear, that was lovely." Fancy pulled out of her and got off the bed.

Fleur stayed where she was. She breathed deeply to make her chest heave. She heard the rustling of cloth behind her and allowed herself to roll to her side to see. Fancy Pants was already putting his coat back on.

"Fancy Pants, darling, can't you stay tonight?" Fleur looked him over. His penis was already back in its sheath. That didn't bode well for her performance.

"Terribly sorry, my dear, but I have to attend the CAFA charity auction tomorrow morning. You understand."

"Of course, Fancy."

He gave her an apologetic smile. Somehow it was an honest one. "My dear, I should have mentioned earlier, but perhaps this will make up for it. I've secured you that contract with Cross Stitch."

"Oh, thank you Fancy!" Fleur slipped from the bed. "Oh," she said gingerly as her hooves hit the floor.

"Fleur? Are you all right?"

Fleur shook a dainty hoof his way. "I'm fine Fancy. I'm just a little sore."

Fancy blinked, then smiled. She watched his chest puff out just a little.

"But, yes, thank you." She actually meant it. The contract for Stitch's show meant a quarter million bits upfront; plus with the added publicity and other work she'd get for it, it could easily end with another million on top of that by the end of next month.

Fancy came back and gave Fleur a kiss on the cheek.

And then he was gone, out the door and into the world beyond, leaving Fleur alone in hers.

She slumped back on the bed, alleged soreness gone. A box of tissues across the room glowed with magic and gave its life to try to clean up what Fancy had left inside of her. Its reward for diligent service was to be flung against a far wall.

She lay there a while with nothing but the scent of the not-quite-legal Essence of Heated Mare as company. One of her hooves drifted down between her hind legs. There, in the dark, she clopped herself; finishing the job Fancy Pants had barely started. Her uninspired orgasm was empty, but at least it bled away that tension in her body.

She wanted to hate Fancy. Oh, how she wanted to hate him. As before, as always, some insidious seed of logic gnawed at her. Without his influence, his exposure, her paycheck would be cut to a tenth of what she commanded now. She wouldn't be able to keep her house on a barely-six-digit income, not one this size and in this part of Canterlot. Not with her lifestyle.

If she left him he would have other fillies, younger ones, perkier ones, lining up in an instant. She knew it, so she kept him looking at her. That was why she was wearing an illegal aphrodisiac, why his seed was swimming around inside her.

Something hit the side of her house. She flinched and froze.

Nothing came of it. As always. She let out her breath.

A week had passed since the Masquerade. Every noise, every creak and groan of the house was the Royal Guard. That was to say nothing of the Society she had to deal with during the day. Everypony was talking about the upper echelon of society vanishing, rumours about the fabled Seasonal Masquerade being forever cancelled, every word she said had to be carefully chosen to keep them from guessing, every double entendre, everything, everything...

It was all torture.

Fleur got up and paced. She had no destination in mind, but was still unsurprised to find herself in her basement. All sound of the outside world vanished as she shut the heavy door above the stairs. Her basement was, for all intents and purposes, a single well furnished room. No windows. The ceiling was a high seven feet. One corner had a door, beyond was the basement's bathroom. In one corner, near the ceiling, was a large hole where human hands had ripped the drywall out.

Fleur found herself looking at the unmade Queen-sized bed against the wall. Ropes and a chain hung from the headboard, more ropes on the footboard. She went over, burying her nose in the sheets. She couldn't smell him anymore. The scent had been gone for years now, but still she couldn't bring herself to get rid of anything or even make the bed. She fell onto the mattress.

"I miss you, Digits," She said as she nuzzled her face into pillow. "Why did you have to change?"

************************************************************************

"I have an appointment with Happy Rub." Fleur de Lis said to the receptionist. She hoped there wasn't actually somepony named Happy Rub here. The receptionist checked something off a list.

"Of course. Are you the basic or the deluxe?"

"The basic." Another check.

"Very good, Ma'am. Please enjoy your massage."

"Thank you. I'm sure she'll be quite adequate." The receptionist checked off a third time.

"Third door on the right."

Fleur de Lis nodded briskly and took her leave. She was met by an all-green pegasus mare.

"Welcome back, Miss Lis. I was beginning to think we'd never see you again." The pegasus nodded to her and gestured with her wing for Fleur to follow. Fleur de Lis came up beside her as they walked down a long white hall.

"I haven't really been in a position to buy another, and I've been occupied lately."

"With the Masquerade? Pity about that. They sold their used males at quite a discount. Those that survived, anyway."

"You heard what happened?"

"No, but when our illustrious Mr. White hadn't sent word about his used goods I did some looking. Seems a number of my clients have gone missing in the last few days."

Fleur looked at the pegasus. "Miss Bell, aren't you worried about the princesses?"

"Not particularly. Miss Lis, the Royal Guard are welcome to search this building, and they have. The only thing they will find are some of the best masseurs in the business."

Their walk took them to a door at the end of the hall. The pegasus opened it. Outside was a carriage garage where two windowless carriages stood waiting, their drivers already strapped in.

************************************************************************

Fleur de Lis exited the carriage again in another garage. The door was already closed and not a single window graced the walls. Fleur had been here before, but had no idea where here was. A young Earth pony stallion stood beside the carriage.

"Welcome to our establishment, Madame." He said, holding out a hoof to help her down. She took it.

"Thank you."

"Would you care for some refreshment after your trip? We have a fine selection of spirits for our guests."

"An amaretto would be lovely."

"Of course." The stallion stomped a hoof and pointed to a filly near the door. She was off through the door. "If you would be so kind as to follow me."

Fleur de Lis did. Within a dozen paces the filly caught up with them and passed Fleur a glass. She took it in her magic.

"Are you sure we can't interest you in a sale, Miss Lis? We just received a number of very healthy specimens."

"No, but thank you."

"I'm certain we can offer you free delivery."

Fleur de Lis closed her eyes and swallowed. "Thank you, but no. I'm afraid my life just won't lend itself to owning another male right now. How far along is the one I'm paying to see?"

"Very well, Madame. Your male has been with us just over a week, but I assure you he's quite well prepared, only just past his peak. We do have some fresh males if you would prefer."

"I prefer my males with experience."

The stallion nodded and led her to another room. He opened the door and gestured her inside with his muzzle. "Please enjoy your stay with us, Miss Lis. You have one hour. And please don't be too rough with him. You're his last customer for the day."

Fleur heard the door close behind her. The room she was in now was small, little more than enough space for the double bed and the toilet beside it. There were heavy rings attached to the sides of the headboard and top of the footboard, all with ropes tied to them. Beside the bed was a small night table. The only other feature was a large and rather obnoxious clock.

And on the bed was her long sought after human, though its change was well underway.

Unlike the many females she'd seen change, the male's change was uniform. All of his fingers and toes were twisting inwards, shortening, all at the same rate. His once smooth skin was now covered with a grayish down. His head stretched forward in the beginnings of a muzzle and his hairline had begun to recede inwards to form a proper mane.

The human was on his side, facing away from her, apparently asleep. She took a minute to look him over, noting the heavy cuffs bolted on his wrists and ankles. She quickly drained her glass and set it on the side table.

"I had Digits two weeks before he was this far along." She gently nuzzled the sleeping male's shoulder. As soon as she touched him, most of the magic in her body and horn rushed to where flesh met flesh. It pooled there, making her skin tingle joyously clean to the bone. Only the tiniest wisps of energy seeped through into him. Still, he started, turning over and waking in the same moment.

Fleur pulled away, her magic gushing back where it belonged. She used it to catch all the ropes trailing from the head and footboard, threading them through the rings on the human's cuffs. It was a challenge, but the human was disoriented and clumsy for the moment. She pulled all four ropes taught. The male was jerked down onto his back spread-eagled. She tied off the ropes.

The human started to yell, thrashing weakly.

"Shh, human. I won't hurt you." He didn't stop. She checked the side table, finding a ball gag inside. Surprised but not complaining, she picked it up with her magic and forced it between the human's teeth.

His cries died to a weak, sobbing whimper. Tears started trickling from his eyes and down to his ears. He turned his head away from her but stopped struggling, his body only moving when he sobbed.

Fleur placed a hoof on his chest. The magic flowed down her leg, pooling in the hoof. She could feel it, truly feel his flesh through the hard horn of her hoof. She drew slow circles on his chest, relishing the sensation of his skin and the muscles underneath, delighting in watching the hairs stand on end where she touched him.

"He was right. A fresh male wouldn't pull anywhere near this hard. You're perfect." Fleur leaned in to kiss the human on the neck. It made her lips tingle.

Her circles began to move lower, across his belly. He let out whimpered protest that grew in pitch the lower her hoof went. When she touched the base of his penis, he sobbed. He grew hard instantly when she touched him and he let out a pained groan when he did. Fleur could see why. His member was blood red and spongy. Swollen from more than arousal.

"I'm sorry," Fleur said. "But I'll be gentle."

She carefully climbed up onto the bed and onto his body. His pleas were ignored as she lowered herself onto him. She sighed at the sensation. She adored human hips, how they could press against hers so perfectly in a way no two ponies could ever dream. The energy in her body began to move and flow, to embrace him inside her. She let out a groan, then a little whimper of delight. Her human squealed in pain.

She sat there, impaled on him, letting the magic flow. Her sex, her womb, thousands of nerves, all came alive. All were seared by fire and begged for more. It wasn't the heat, but by Celestia it felt like it. She started to rock her hips. Despite everything, her human responded even as he whimpered. His wonderful human hips rising to meet her.

It wasn't long before she felt him shudder under her. He'd come, though she'd felt nothing inside her. She felt a tinge of jealousy for the mares who had drained him. She didn't stop, though. She kept rocking her hips, slowly pulling him in and out. He didn't soften. He couldn't. Not while she was there. She'd heard once it had something to do with their blood, how it and pony magic were drawn together, but she didn't care. It didn't matter.

She was a mare in heat again, her beautiful human was there to love her. Nothing else mattered. She worked herself into a lather thrusting herself down onto him, ignoring his cries of pain or her own body rebelling from overuse. She didn't care. Her mind grew hazy as the pleasure built until, finally, she threw her head back and screamed high and loud and real for the first time in months.

Spent, she fell forward onto him. Her magic moved away from her sex, spreading out all along where their flesh touched. Her skin tingled where they met as the blissful glow spread through her. She breathed deeply, catching her wind, breathing in his thin musk.

She realized that her human was crying. She pushed herself up on her forehooves to look. Her human looked at the wall with tears flowing freely. When he sobbed it was the weak, the slow shudder of somepony who had truly given up.

"I'm sorry."

Too late she felt the magic return to her sex, the new position separating her from her human everywhere else. Her heat rose again and she couldn't help but gasp. She looked down at her human. Her human whimpered.

"I'm so sorry." She lifted herself up just enough to thrust back down.

************************************************************************

She managed to keep the persona of Fleur de Lis in place until she had sealed herself into her home once again. Once she was, though, all her poise fell away. She stumbled through her house to the bathroom.

She reached the bathtub and fell in, curling up into a ball on the porcelain. Her magic to twisted the hot water knob as far as it would go. She didn't flinch when the scalding water streamed down on top of her.

***********************************************************************

Author's note: To all those who have made it this far, thank you once again for indulging my severely screwed up thoughts. Though, in hindsight, I should have called this chapter 'Doors.' I'll call it an unintentional motif and just move on.

Luna

Heat and Desire
Chapter 4: Luna
By
The Incognito Brony
(Brony Incognito elsewhere)

There is no clop in this chapter. That said, if you're still with me, I somehow doubt that's a huge problem.

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit fan made work of fiction written for fun and to finally get this idea out of my head.

Fair warning, this is a very strange and very dark story with badly written sex that descends into the realm of rape. You have been warned.

I do not own My Little Pony in any part, nor is this intended to infringe on any copyright or license owned by Hasbro or anyone else. If you actually read this disclaimer, you deserve a cookie.

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The moon hung high, backed by the glowing tapestry of the cosmos. Far below, the Palace of the Royal Pony Sisters shone silver in its light. A beacon to all the ponies across the plains of Equestria for miles around.

Luna sat on the balcony outside her chambers, her eyes turned to the sky. She watched the universe unfold. Here, a star was dying. There, two more were being born. Nebulas danced across the heavens in a waltz whose first step would outlast her nation. Elsewhere, Orion’s belt buckle threatened to wink out of existence sometime in the next few millennia. She couldn’t help but wonder if she would still be around to see it.

“Lulu!” a voice called. Luna's ear shook from the breath.

Luna hit the railing with a dull thud and fell into a gasping tangle of legs and wings, one hoof pressed impotently against her breast to calm her heart. She glared up at her grinning big sister.

“Thou art still alive. I had feared thou had turned to stone, little sister.”

Luna gathered herself back to her feet, straightening her feathers with a harsh beat of her wings and a hmph. She turned back to the night sky before Celestia noticed the uninvited smirk growing on her lips. “I shall have thee know that I was contemplating the Universe.”

Celestia snickered behind her, came up to stand beside Luna. “What hast thou learned, dear sister? Dost thou feel great and powerful?”

“Neigh, Tia.” Luna lowered her eyes. “I feel frightfully small.”

“Oh?”

“Look to the sky, Tia. Imagine every star in my night a sun. Perhaps, each has a Celestia to raise it for her ponies and a Luna to bring forth their moon. What wouldst thou think?”

“I would think we have many friends waiting for us.”

“However, consider if there are not. Tia, you and I have never seen the stars move from their given paths. What if, in all the grandeur of the night, nopony else exists.” Luna’s eyes hung heavy as she looked to her sister. “What if we are truly alone?”

Celestia looked up to the night. She was still for a moment; a smile slowly lifted the edges of her mouth. “Shall we find out, dear sister?”

**********************************************************************************

Prismatic rain exploded as her lightning crashed through the stained glass window. Through the shards, she saw the terrified pegasi an instant before the lightning struck. It arced one to another, searing smoking gouges across their flanks clean through their cloaks. They screamed as they fell to the floor of the hall. The scents of ozone, burnt fur and copper remained in their place.

More pegasi hung in the air, terror on their faces behind their garish masks. A dozen Royal Guard pegasi in golden armour flew past their princess into the hall. They threw themselves at the revelers, pinning their wings to their sides and riding them down to the ground below. More screams came, then the wet thuds of flesh on unyielding wood and the cracking of bones.

Two of the revelers slipped past Luna and her guards, frantic wings propelling them into the morning sky. She ignored them. A half dozen of the guards gave chase.

Luna flew through the shattered window.

Her sister stood opposite her in the hall; regal body blocking any exit through the smoldering ruin of what was once a great door. Her horn glowed a dazzling white. On the floor around her, a dozen cloaked ponies struggled to stand as that same glow pinned them down. Guardponies rounded them up. The helpless were hogtied where they lay. More guards tackled free revelers as they tried to run.

Luna set down on the stage. Beside her, a human female struggled to free herself from an oaken frame. One arm was free, never having been tied. That hand tore frantically at the rope holding the other wrist in place. A mote of magic off Luna’s horn snipped the ropes cleanly apart.

The female ran, only to be caught by a guard a few steps later. She screamed and clawed and spit and kicked as he pressed his weight down on her. Two more guards bound her hand and foot with rope. She screamed in that guttural language, but Luna had no need of a translator.

Above her, four more humans struggled inside brass cages that hung like chandeliers from the ceiling. One of them, the only male, worked at the lock with his fingers. Another, a copper skinned female, kicked at the trapdoor with her tender, fleshy feet; her hands clinging to and bracing against the yellow bars. The other two merely cowered in their cages.

Luna lowered her gaze back down. A unicorn mare clad in cloak and a lion mask stood near the stage. She hurled silverware and plates from the long table at a pair of the Royal Guard, keeping them at bay. The princess glanced up at the cages again, then back down at the unicorn. Her lip curled back, baring her teeth. Her horn flared as she loosed herself on the mare.

The magic came out raw, elemental; a blind mass of force and rage. The section of table between princess and mare vanished into a cloud of deadly splinters trailing in the wake of the attack. When it struck, it tore the unicorn from her hooves, launching her into the wall with a resounding crunch. An unmoving lump fell to the floor.

Luna moved to the edge of the stage. She looked down at the broken mare. Red dripped down the unicorn's flank where splinters buried themselves into her flesh and one of her legs now had an extra knee that nature never intended. A thin trickle of blood painted a line from her nose to the floor. A fresh red bead slipped down to join the growing puddle with every weak rise and fall of her chest.

A satisfied grin painted itself on Luna's face. Her eyes began to glow white. Her chest heaved, building to a laugh.

She never saw the pony that attacked her; she felt him. A disturbance, a splinter of life, a soul, coming into her magical aura. It came for her directly. She didn't see his hooves raise up to strike, yet she felt it and reacted. Her horn flared. Magic snapped out and caught. She lifted up and turned.

An Earth pony hung in her grasp, a band of black light wrapped around his throat. His hind legs kicked at the air, his forehooves scratched at the band. He rasped when he tried to breathe.

Two more quick bursts of magic knocked away the pony's mask and cloak. He was colt, barely out of adolescence, perhaps twenty years of age. A fresh swell of anger filled Luna. She lowered him and stared him in the eye. Through her magic she felt his heart race and felt the passing of the thin whisper of air he could still manage.

"Dost thou even begin to understand what thou hast done to these creatures?"

The colt's answer was to soil himself. Luna squeezed, pinching his throat completely shut. She brought him to face her, muzzles inches apart. Her grin widened as his struggles intensified. She felt his heart speed, then gradually slow. He fell limp in her grasp. Her grin died with his struggles. The adrenaline high giving way to hollow pit that widened as the last of the young colt's life threatened to gutter out.

She dropped him and thanked whatever mercy there was when he drew in a strangled breath.

Luna's chest heaved again, though now with a deepening, fearful malaise that clung to her ribs like spackle. She looked out to the chaos. Most of the revelers were tied down or simply unable to move under their own power. A few held out here and there, fleeing or attacking the guards to buy another few precious seconds of freedom. The guards were already breaking into teams. Pairs of pegasi vanished through the doors off the main hall to round up stragglers. Everywhere there were the cries of pain and terror, the smells of blood, smoke and fear.

A knot grew inside Luna. It came undone through the Royal Canterlot Voice. "We would have thee cease!"

All eyes were on her: revelers, guards and Celestia. All stared in silence, save for the moans of the injured.

Across the room, a cloaked earth pony stallion glanced side to side quickly, then darted past a guard and broke toward the door; toward Celestia. The air shimmered white as he crashed into nothing. He collapsed, clutching at his broken muzzle. The guard he’d dodged broke his gaze from Luna only long enough to glance at the would be escapee, then looked back at his dark princess.

Luna felt them all, all the eyes, and swallowed. "We thank thee." Her practiced Voice stayed strong. She held her head high and walked purposefully for the door. She stepped past them all, past her sister, and through the door back out into the chill winter air. Nopony made a move to stop her.

Outside, the cold leeched into her body, outlining her skin and, deeper, her bones to her senses. She walked out, soon finding the manicured skeleton of a willow in a far corner of the estate. She sat down under it, telling herself her shivering was due to the snow under her rump.

She looked back. Nopony came for her.

A flying carriage arrived, pulled by a team of four pegasus mares. The carriage was built like a stage coach, a flying shelter from the cold. It landed near the door. One by one, the humans were led from the hall and ushered into the carriage. The poor creatures all had their hands tied behind their backs and they all flinched when their tender, unprotected feet hit the harsh snow. The pegasi took off once they were aboard and vanished into the clouds toward Canterlot.

More carriages arrived, these pulled along the ground by Earth ponies. Now came the revelers. Some still fought, others cried, most were carried out bodily, but none went quietly. They were packed in, ten to a carriage meant for four. The guardponies locked and barred the doors. Their trip back to the capital would be far slower.

An hour passed from when Luna left the hall to when the last carriage vanished over the hill. She watched it all and then she was alone. She found herself looking at the mansion. Wind whistled through it, through the ragged wounds she and her sister had cut. Inside, winter busily reclaimed the warmth. Food and blood that nopony had any intention of cleaning were already freezing.

There would be investigations. The owner of the country club would be found and questioned. His friends would be questioned. And their friends. Scores of ponies; perhaps one would have even a sliver of connection, and the process would begin again.

"Lulu?" Celestia said into Luna's ear. Her voice was soft. Luna neither seen nor heard her approach.

Luna turned her head to her sister. There was a somber expression on the Sun Princess' face. Her eyes were heavy.

"Tia?"

Celestia laid her neck over Luna's, her skin warm against the chill left by the air. "Nopony died, Lulu."

Luna let out a harsh, laughing sob and buried her face into her sister's chest.

*****************************************************************************

In the highest room of the Palace of the Royal Pony Sisters, Luna worked. She moved from chart to chart, checking and rechecking a year's worth of collected data before heading back to the runic circle in the center of the room. She lay down inside the lines, letting her consciousness slip. The circle, painted in painstakingly collected moonlight, shone rippling silver. The light rose into a column around the princess, reaching up to the enchanted ceiling that showed the living cosmos.

A month of effort from scores of ponies had gone into the room. New spells were written, old ones revised. Countless hours spent poring over scrolls upon scrolls of math and magical formulae. The court enchanter's apprentice, a young colt named Starswirl, had become so engrossed he'd neglected to shave until it was done. But done it was, and never before had even the Royal Sisters seen such a thing.

In the circle, Luna's mind extended up to the tiny patch of night encompassed by the column of moonlight. She let her mind spread out into the spell and up to the hundreds of thousands of stars in the tiny circle. Hundreds passed through her mind every second.

Nothing.

She made notes on a few. A quill across the room scribbled down her thoughts. It was part of the spell. A handful of worlds had specks of bacteria or traces of proteins. She would check back on those in a few million years if she were still alive.

Thousands of stars passed by.

Still nothing. Everywhere was darkness.

She went blind.

The spell flickered and failed around the princess. Her brain throbbed, pressing against a skull four sizes too small. She cried out, rolling on the floor, hooves holding her head. The sensation soon passed. She blinked her eyes clear and looked up at the faint trace of a silver circle still visible on the ceiling.

"Impossible..." she said to the night.

Once more she laid down in the circle. The spell began again and she rode it to that same star. Slowly, gingerly this time, she looked to the planets. On one perfect blue sphere she saw life. The planet teemed with it, shining so hard her mind's eye had to squint to look upon it even after she dampened the spell.

She crept closer to the planet. The spell made 'seeing' difficult, all the creatures and plants glowed in her vision, obscuring them. She dampened the spell further until each creature appeared to her as a figure of shimmering blue. She looked across this world, at creatures she almost recognized to others she'd never dreamed.

She saw a city.

Stone walls and roads, buildings carved of living rock or, perhaps, poured from stone. Creatures walked the streets. They were strange beings that walked upright on two legs. They were there, waiting for her.

Luna squealed in delight. The spell failed around her, unnoticed. She leapt to her feet and bolted out the door.

A moment later she ran back into the room, grabbed the note scroll in her mouth and ran back out.

The midnight quiet of the Palace gave way to the hammering of hooves as Luna galloped through the halls. As soon as she saw Celestia's door she threw it open with her magic. She ran through without slowing and slammed it shut behind her. Sparks danced up around her hooves as she skidded to a stop beside her sister's bed, her shoes screeching and skittering on the stone floor.

Celestia was still asleep. She was on her side and facing away from Luna. Luna spat the scroll onto the bed.

"Tia, I have found them!"

No reply.

"Tia?"

Celestia snorted and kicked at something in her sleep with her forehoof.

Luna reared back, set her forehooves on the bed and gave her sister a deft poke her shoe.

"Tia! Wake up!"

Celestia rolled over, eyes still closed, and grabbed Luna about the shoulders. She turned back over, dragging the younger alicorn down onto the bed with her.

"Oh, Daisy, thou art insatiable some nights."

"I am not Daisy!"

Celestia pulled Luna into a closer embrace, Luna's back to Celestia's front. "Yes, thou art," she whispered into Luna's ear.

"I am thy sister! Luna!" Luna struggled harder, squirming in her sister's forelegs.

"Hm... we are being naughty tonight." Celestia gently bit Luna's ear.

Luna shrieked and kicked, breaking her sister's hold and tumbling off the bed. She stood back up and turned on Celestia in a huff. Her sister lay there on the bed as though she'd just awoken, though her eyes danced with faux innocence and mirth.

"Oh, good morning, dear sister," Celestia said. "I was just having a dream about thee."

Luna glared back at her. She picked up the rolled scroll with her magic and gently smacked Celestia upside the head with it.

"I have found them."

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"We would see her."

The guardmare didn't reply at once. Instead, her eyes darted up and down the hall of the castle. Nopony else was there, of course. Few ponies even knew this hall existed, let alone what was behind this door.

"Your Majesty, I was told that Celestia would be handling all of the humans."

Luna leaned in close to the guard, glaring straight into her eyes. The mare swallowed.

"Are we not a princess? Has Celestia more authority in this castle than I?"

The guardmare shrank back, though she kept eye contact. She started to sweat. "I, um, no?"

"And knowing this, dost thou deny us entry?"

"No?"

"Very well then." Luna moved beside the guard, toward the door. "How is this human?"

The guard blinked and turned to her princess again. "The unicorn who examined her said that she's been in Equestria for several days. That she has been well, um..."

"Cultured?"

"Yes, your Majesty."

Luna swore. The guard just raised an eyebrow. Luna spared a thought to wonder if the mare even knew what she'd said. Had she truly been gone that long?

"Thou art dismissed. Thou shalt wait outside this hall for us to have finished."

"I... yes, Your Majesty."

The guard left and Luna was alone. The princess pushed the door open with her magic. Inside was a small bedroom, though not one meant for ponies. The ceiling was nine feet high. Against the back wall was a bed seven feet long; more then any pony, even the Sisters, would ever need. The copper skinned human was on the bed. She was still bound, though now her wrists were held together with cuffs made from the softest silk. She had been dressed in a simple tunic to afford her some dignity. So much as one could expect when tied to a bed, at least.

The human jumped when the door opened. In seconds she'd struggled upright and pulled against the cord that held her to the headboard. A steady stream of words flooded out in the guttural human tongue.

"Please, fair human, we mean thee no harm," Luna said.

The human continued to rant. She pulled against the ropes hard, the jerks sending her dark mane flying in fits and starts.

"Human, we would help thee. Be still so we may see what has happened."

The human didn't stop.

"Very well," the princess said with a sigh.

Luna let herself see into the ethereal and looked at the human. What should have been a void glittered with tiny filaments of energy and light. Magic gathered in the human’s body, collected in the spaces between muscle fibers and filling the hollows of her bones. It traced along every sinew, every nerve; filling her like the beginnings of moss in the crevices of stone.

Everywhere it touched, the energy leeched into the tissue, bleeding into the cells. Only a relative few had changed, the magic was still too sparse in most of her body, but it was a purchase for more. In her brain, however, was a familiar, cancerous knot. The paths of a spell not yet active laid there by the magic that had brought her here.

"We are sorry." Luna closed her eyes and carefully wove a stream of energy that snaked across the room into the human's forehead, into the half formed spell. The human's eyes widened in shock, then fear. She shook her head away from the stream with no success. A pained grin split her face as the spell finished forming inside of her. She made a small whimper as she twisted and fell face first onto the bed.

"What did you do?" The human's voice came strangled. Her back twisted as her body writhed, pressing herself onto the sheets.

"What is thy name, fair human?"

The human gasped. She twisted her head to look at the princess. Her face was turning red. "How did you..."

"Please, human, there is precious little time. You must tell us thy name."

There was a moment of disbelieving silence, then: "Blue. My name is... no." The human shook her head. "No. That's not right. What did you do to me? Ah-oh-ii."

"Canst thou tell us who did this to thee?"

"Horses. Unicorns. They... I was at home with my mother, then I was in a basement. They..." She trailed off into a sob and a groan.

Luna could already see the magic inside the human spreading beyond the spell and growing like a fungus, traveling down the preexisting lines of magic. Her body soaked it up like a damp sponge.

The air was beginning to fill with the human's scent. Pheromones, twisted, perverted and empowered by magic, tickled at Luna's senses. She quickly wrapped a ward around her head to keep the worse of it at bay.

The human curled up into a ball, arms still bound behind her. She cried out in frustration. Luna stood beside the bed and watched.

"We are..." Luna stopped herself and shook her head. "Neigh, I am sorry. If I could do more for thee, I would."

Luna stepped up to the bed, laid her horn onto the human's head and opened herself to her. For an eternal moment two souls merged, though one far greater than the other. Magic poured out of Luna, flooding the human's body. The change cascaded through the flesh, bones twisting and snapping into and out of place. A pair of wings ripped out through the muscles of the back. There was an agony, but it was distant. Both of Luna and this human, and of somewhere else.

The princess held the human's mind separate, kept it untouched even as the flesh of her brain twisted into a pony's. She held her in limbo, a soul and a life without a vessel. The tiny part of Luna that was the human was confused. Luna hesitated. The human part grew fearful. It screamed when the first memory was torn away.

Luna moved through the human's life. She tore away the faces of her family: a loving mother, father and a young brother. They were replaced by a vague outline, something scarcely remembered. She added the false memory of their deaths, crushed beneath a runaway cart as the family crossed the road, this human turned pony spared by the grace of inches.

Her hometown was moved aside, hidden. All the places intact though the people removed. Luna put it all into a place only remembered in dreams and déjà vu. Friends, loved ones, her first time with a boy, all rewritten and revised to be ponies. All set in a place now and forever beyond the young girl's reach.

School, culinary school, that Luna kept. She rewrote more faces and removed the recipes involving meat. She built it up. Already it was the girl's passion, but she made it more. Made it her life.

Finally, she came to the ponies. Her last days as the creature she had been. Luna picked through every moment, every thought. There was nothing. The human remembered it all only as horses. The sizes and colours were not those of Equestrians. They were the memories of a being trying to make sense of a world gone mad in the only way she could. Luna stripped them away, burying them as deep as they would go.

When the moment ended, the human was gone. In her place was a young pegasus mare. Bluebell. One day soon she would invent the stirfry and bring tofu to Equestria. Still, she struggled vainly against the princess, more from principle and half-remembered pain than in defense of anything. Luna let her slip back into herself. Into the new body that waited to carry her into her new life.

Luna finally broke the connection and staggered back. The air had grown thicker with the scent and her ward had failed during the spell. She stumbled away. She would never be sure how, but she found herself outside the room.

She stumbled down the hall. She felt as though she'd been struck in the head with a hammer and had her entrails torn out with a dull knife. Half blind from tears, pain and exhaustion, she pushed through the door out of the hall. The guardmare waited for her there.

"Your Majesty? Let me call..."

"Neigh."

"But..."

"We will recover." Luna's knee buckled. The guardmare caught her in her wings. "...given time."

"Princess, please, at least let me take you to your room."

The feathers that held Luna were so soft, the pony's frame so strong, her eyes so blue. Perverse magic played in her head. It would be so very easy.

"Thou dost not know what thou ask."

The mare's eyebrow crooked up, "Oh?” then shot up, “Oh!" Luna felt herself carefully returned to her feet.

"We have a task for thee. In that room is a pony named Bluebell. Thou shalt wait until the air clears, then thou art to bring her to Ponyville and place her in a hotel. Furnish her with a cooking cart, something with a skillet, I think, a license and as many bits as you believe a young pony would need to start a business. On my authority. Dost thou understand?"

The guard blinked again. "I'll do it," she said after a moment.

"Very well," Luna said, giving the guard a slight bow. The guard returned it. “Thank you.” Luna turned and stumbled away into the halls of Canterlot Castle.

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A great press of pony bodies surged through the door and tumbled to the ground just beyond. Two guardponies slammed the door shut and dropped the bar in place as soon as they were clear. Something heavy slammed into the door from the other side. Guttural cries echoed through the door, though somewhat muffled.

"Why does it have a horn?" Starswirl asked from somewhere in the pile. "Why is it detachable?"

"Did you see the scales? They covered its whole body," another pony in the pile said.

Luna pushed herself out from under her sister's wing and somepony's rump. She shook herself off. "Starswirl, we had thought thou were to place a language spell upon them when thou brought them here."

"Your Majesty, I, who's on my beard?"

"Sorry."

"Your Majesty, I promise you, I'm certain the spell is there. Perhaps it simply didn't activate properly."

Celestia pulled herself out of the pile. She was laughing. "Perhaps? Well, let us see." She stretched and flicked her horn. The door glowed white as it opened to reveal the creature beyond. It stood upright on two legs, a shining metallic horn held in the talon of its right upper limb. On its metal capped head it bore the red crest of a rooster and on its core were metallic plates that slid together as it moved.

The thing advanced. Celestia flicked her horn again, as though picking up an apple, and sent a tiny orb of energy into the thing's head. It dropped its horn, talons coming up to clutch its skull.

"Dost thou understand us?" Celestia asked.

The thing looked up, eyes wide at Celestia. It was silent a long time.

"Yes."

"Tell us, what may we call our guest?"

"Velius." The creature then took off part of its head and a pony next to Luna fainted.

****************

Luna stood on her balcony and looked down at Equestria. Her night had ended, soon she would settle in for the day. A few hours had already passed since Celestia had raised the sun on this, the eighth day of the renaissance. Out in the fields she watched two humans work and show a group of eager ponies how to use a series of hand tools. There would need to be modifications, of course.

Further out, an eager young Earth pony was trying out the 'plou.' Luna had read a report the dawn before about how this device would singlehoofedly end crop shortages in Equestria for all time. It had taken the humans a few days to get it right, working from memory as they were, but there it was for all to see. The elegant straight line in the earth behind that pony was a path to a brighter future for all her subjects.

Below her, much closer, a human played a stringed instrument to the delight of an assembled mass of ponies, mostly fillies. Even from her distance she caught the looks in their eyes and a few subtle cues on how they moved. A curious unease was setting in when there was a knock on her door.

"Thou may enter, Clover."

A green Earth pony opened the door, a stack of scrolls in her mouth. She laid them on a table and bowed to her princess.

"Shall we guess?" Luna said, "or shall we simply assume those are more reports about our human guests?"

"You would assume correctly, Your Majesty." Clover cleared her throat. There was a hesitation in her voice. "The Palace summoned three more humans yesterday. There have been new techniques for pottery taught to us. We still haven't gathered enough ore to use the forge yet, and the 'plou' is complete and being tested today."

"We have seen it outside. A rousing success."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Luna's brow creased. She looked at Clover, her head cocking slightly to the side. "Clover, thou hast not called us 'Your Majesty' in private in years. What is the matter?"

Clover lowered her eyes. "There is another report, Luna. A dragon attacked a small town east of here: Manehattan."

Luna's eyes went wide. She turned and ran to her writing table. "What? Why didst thou wait until dawn to tell me? We must send help at once!"

"The dragon is dead."

Luna stopped. A quill she'd levitated clattered down to the desk.

"How is such a thing possible?"

"The villagers, Luna. They summoned humans to protect them. They killed the dragon."

A chill ran down Luna's spine. She suddenly felt very ill. "The spell has spread that far? We should not have allowed this to happen. Our friends mustn't be used such. We must talk to our sister." She turned and ran out the door.

She heard Clover call after her, but didn't catch the words. Once out into the hall proper she broke into a gallop. More voices called out to her. She passed the human Velius on the way. She ignored them. She threw open her sister's door with her magic and skidded to a stop inside.

Celestia lay on her bed in a sprawl, a blissful smile on her face. Her eyes opened a slit when Luna came in. "Lulu?"

"Tia, there was a dragon." Luna paused. "What is that smell?"

Celestia stretched and rose from her bed with a sigh. "In Manehattan. Yes, dear sister, I heard the same report in the evening yesterday. Don't worry, Lulu, an envoy has been sent to the village to collect them." She smiled at her sister. "And to the other towns to tell our citizens not to summon any more humans until we have decided on laws so as not to abuse our guests."

"Thank you, Tia." Luna sniffed the air again. "Sister, thou art in heat?"

Celestia smiled coyly, her eyes making exaggerated glances at the corners of the ceiling. "All friendship, and all friends, are a gift, dear sister. These humans are your gift to Equestria and they have so many wonderful gifts to share with us. Would it not be rude not to accept when they are so very willing?"

"Tia, thou didn’t!"

The Sun Princess leaned in close to her sister and whispered, "I believe that young potter has his eye on thee. His hands are very skilled."

Luna opened her mouth, then closed it and looked away. "I should sleep. Enjoy your day, Sister."

"Or perhaps it is time we summoned some females." Luna stopped in her tracks. "You and I have talked of this, dear sister. We will need to bring them someday if we truly want to make the humans part of Equestria."

Luna looked back. "Sister, we cannot. We have yet to be able to return any and," she paused, "it would not be right to bring them to satisfy my preferences, especially in this."

"Starswirl believes he is very close to creating the spell."

"Sister, please, promise me thou shall not summon any more humans until we can be sure they can be returned. Especially females."

Celestia's smile turned sheepish. Her eyes darted back and forth across the room. She leaned in close again, even closer than before so that their faces nearly touched. "I promise not to summon any more females."

"Tia, what hast thou done?"

"Tonight, when you wake, there will be a feast already underway to welcome our new guests."

Luna said something decidedly unladylike and marched from the room.

"Sleep well, Lulu."

*******************

Luna rose an hour before twilight. She stepped out onto her balcony, throwing wide the doors to welcome the end of another glorious day for Equestria. Outside, however, she saw nopony nor any of the two score humans who now lived in the Palace. She thought it odd, but she bathed as usual and stepped out into the hall.

Silence.

Her own echoed hoofsteps were the only sounds that reached her as she walked the halls of the Palace.

"Anypony?" Her voice echoed back. "Where is..."

Luna's eyes rolled as the answer entered her sleep-fogged mind: everypony was at the feast. An anticipation crept into her. Concerns aside, she longed to see the females with her own eyes. She put a skip in her step and trotted to the dining hall.

She turned the last corner, flared her wings for show and pranced into the hall. "Good evening, every..." She took in the scene before her, "...pony?" Luna's wings fell. Her legs continued to carry her forward out of momentum.

Celestia appeared and blocked her way. "Luna, please. Thou shouldn't be here."

Luna brushed her sister aside with a wing. Celestia shook her head and stepped aside. A tang of copper hit her nose. Ponies lined the walls of the hall or huddled in pockets in the corners. Some cried or simply looked destroyed, eyes blank as though their souls had fled from behind them. Other ponies tended to them, comforted them. In another corner sat two fillies she’d never seen. They looked at her with the uncomprehending eyes of a newborn.

On the tables were a handful of blankets covering human-shaped lumps. She counted five in all.

She moved to one and pulled back the cloth. It was the young potter, chest-down on the table. His face was twisted into a death mask of pain, thankfully his eyes had been closed. A pool of dried blood collected under his mouth and nose. Another look showed a patch of dried blood soaked into the blanket, this one at his rump. She replaced the blanket over his head. She didn't even know his name.

Luna stepped back and looked around again. There were no living humans in the room. She had no idea where they were or if they were even still alive. Her breathing began to come deeper, more ragged. Magic crackled through her. She spun on the ponies huddled in a corner.

"What happened?" The Royal Voice shook the walls.

The ponies whimpered and cowered before her.

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Midnight, when all the good little colts and fillies were meant to be tucked safely in their beds. It was Luna's favourite time of the night. She walked the battlements of Canterlot Castle, taking in the moonlight, letting it and the winter cold cleanse the sting of the mansion and Bluebell's remaking the day before. She made her way to a landing overlooking the Royal Canterlot Garden. There was another already there when she arrived. He leaned on the stone wall and looked down at the skeletons of the trees.

"trev-er?" The name still sounded impossibly alien in Luna's mouth. "What art thou doing on the grounds so late. Shouldn't thou be asleep?"

He looked back over his shoulder, a motion that, for a human, required actually twisting his torso. Moonlight glinted off the glasses they had given him. Luna still saw that his eyes were bloodshot. "Princess?" He turned back and leaned on the wall again. Most of his weight was on his elbows. "No, I couldn't sleep. I've been thinking. I can leave if you want."

"Neigh." She looked around and saw nopony else. "Wouldst thou like some company?"

He nodded. She came up beside him and looked down into the garden with him.

"I'm going to die," he said.

Luna's eyes pinched shut. "Thou shouldn't think of it in so dark a manner, friend human. Thou art merely becoming another being. As a pony thou shalt begin anew. A new life, new memories, new..." She sighed. "Yes, trev-er shall cease to be."

"There's really nothing you can do?"

"Would that there were, friend human. In two thousand years we have never found a way to return thee and thy kind." She looked at him. She wanted to nuzzle him, but fought it down. Instead they shared a gaze into each other's eyes. She imagined hers would be full of sorrow. His were full of dying prayers. "All that we may offer is thine. Thou need only ask. We do swear to make these last few weeks pleasant for thee."

He took off his glasses in one hand and rubbed his eyes with the thumb and finger of the other. He shook his head. "It's okay." He laid the glasses down on the stone beside him. "I'm okay. I just think I need some time alone right now. Please?" He gave her a small, pleading smile.

Luna glanced down, then nodded. She returned the smile just as weakly. "As we said, whatever thou dost need."

She walked away, closing her eyes as soon as her back was turned. Her hooves had learned the battlements well in the last year and she walked them without sight.

She still flinched when she heard the body hit the frozen earth of the garden below.

****************************************************************************

Together, Luna and Celestia planted the fifth and final tree over the fifth and final grave. Like each of the four times before, there was a flash of released magic and a complaining creak as the tree took on several years worth of growth in an instant. None of those assembled had expected it, and each of the line of evenly spaced trees was now a different height.

The Royal Sisters traded a look. Celestia nodded. Luna squared her shoulders and drew herself up, turning to face the assembled crowd of hundreds of ponies and thirty humans.

"We have sinned," Luna said, her Voice carrying clearly across the crowd. "We meant only the best for our ponies and for our guests, but we were rash. We should have known better. We know now what is becoming of the humans and we swear that nothing will be spared to find them all a way home before that comes to pass.

"We decree that no human shall ever be brought to Equestria unless such a day comes that they may be safe. We decree that no being shall ever be so shackled as these fair humans are now." She motioned to the line of trees behind her. "We present thee with this: the Garden of the Everfree. A tribute to our shame. To remind the Royalty of Equestria for the next ten thousand years of this tragedy. To forever show us the cost of this mistake. May another tree never be added."

****************************************************************************

On the first day of spring, two alicorns greeted the dawn by leaping from the battlements of Canterlot Castle and taking wing. Each carried a load beside them with their magic: one, a six foot long bundle wrapped lovingly in a blanket; the other, a sapling.

*****************************************************************************

Notes: There is a side story that takes place between this chapter and the next that can be found here.

Well, thanks for staying with me this far. I actually feel a little bad now, but there's still more swimming around in my head. We'll see how this goes.

Trixie Part 1

Heat and Desire
Chapter 5: Trixie Part 1
By
The Incognito Brony
(Brony Incognito elsewhere)

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit fan made work of fiction written for fun and to finally get this idea out of my head.

Fair warning, this is a very strange and very dark story with badly written sex that descends into the realm of rape. You have been warned.

I do not own My Little Pony in any part, nor is this intended to infringe on any copyright or license owned by Hasbro or anyone else. If you actually read this disclaimer, you deserve a cookie.

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Foreword: If you missed it, the events of Springtime in Ponyville occur between this chapter and the last. It's not important to have read it, but will be referenced.

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"Gaze in awe at the Great and Powerful Trixie."

The mare she saw in the mirror was not great, nor was she powerful; facts that black pockmarks in the old glass did little to hide. Were she to guess, the mirror was older than her by at least two decades and was almost certainly the most recent addition to the tiny bathroom, not counting Trixie herself.

She turned to see her profile. One of her hooves came up and ran along her midsection, feeling its way down her side. Her ribs didn't show but, like yesterday, she felt them more easily than the day before.

A brush on the medicine cabinet glowed a weak blue and floated near. She was starting feel the weight of it these days, but dutifully brought it to her blue-white mane to work out the tussles and tangles of the night before. When she was done, she carefully laid the brush back down and purposefully ignored the light wash of relief as she released the magic

Out of the bathroom, she made the three step journey to the kitchen. It had a stove and some cupboards, as well as a countertop with a metal bucket set into it. That bucket might have counted as a sink if the faucet worked.

Beyond the kitchen was her tiny living room. In truth, the only thing separating the two was the fact that the couch was over there and the stove wasn't. There was also a coffee table, though it hadn't seen coffee in the time Trixie had lived there. Currently, it held only a single, three month old magazine and a scattering of free newspapers open to want ads.

Trixie reared up, placing her hooves on the countertop. One of the previous tenants had apparently not understood the purpose of a cutting board, so damaging the surface was not much of a concern. She took a cupboard's handle between her teeth and eased it open. Inside, there was hay and nothing else. It was dry, coarse straw that sat loose on a shelf. The kind not even the store deemed worthy of the effort to bale properly.

She pulled out a mouthful. Her gut turned the second her tongue touched it, a lump rising to close off her throat. At the same time, her neglected stomach growled. She flicked the cupboard door shut and slipped her hooves off the counter. They hit the floor hard, but her apartment was in the basement. There was nopony below to disturb.

She didn't look to her tiny table, just closed her eyes and pulled the cheap hay deeper into her mouth with her tongue. It was only through sheer force of will and the gnawing pain in her stomach that she managed to force her jaw to work. The taste was like cotton and ash in her mouth and lingered long after she'd wrestled it down.

She finished with a cough and hung her head over the maybe-sink in case her breakfast came back up. It wouldn't be the first time. Looking down into the tarnished metal, she reflected that there had been a time she liked hay; especially mixed into a casserole or in a smoothie.

The food stayed put, though both it and her gut made their displeasure at the arrangement known. She looked up at the clock on her wall. It was nearly two in the afternoon. She had to get to work.

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"Two blooming onions, four steins of hard cider and three garden salads," Trixie said, putting the food on the table, "and I'll be right back with your curried rice."

The four colts gave their cursory thanks before digging in. She left them to it, heading back toward the bar, and the kitchen behind it, to wait on the rice.

It was Tuesday at Stage Left. That meant it was onion night and the local high school's weekly rendition of The Manehattan Dragon. Thirteen performances and, somehow, they seemed to be getting worse.

Trixie leaned against the counter while she waited, her eyes on the stage. The dragon, a hilariously hideous pile of green cloth, paint and ping pong balls with twelve hooves, stood to one side. A tiny Earth pony mare wearing a fake horn made from a plunger stared it down.

"My, little pony, but you are brave," the dragon said.

One of the first lessons Trixie's teachers had drilled into her was the difference between projecting and yelling. It was a concept lost on the dragon. It could, she supposed, have just been how the director had told the pony to play it. She doubted, not for the first time, that whomever directed the play knew what he was doing.

The dragon was an alto.

"More likely," the dragon said, "you are foolish and desperate. Do you expect to defeat me with that little horn and your pitiful magic? Nothing you could do could hope to pierce my beautiful, luscious scales."

"My name is Scribble Rune," the 'unicorn' said, "and I don't plan to defeat you, but I know of something that can."

Trixie shook her head. "Cue the incantation and the little dance," she muttered under her breath.

One of the colts from Trixie's table stood up. "Eat her now! While she's casting!"

"They don't deserve to be on that stage," Trixie said.

The bartender and manager, a stocky stallion she only knew as Draught, laughed. "They pull in a good crowd."

On stage, an Earth pony in a harness and a cracked papier-mâché mask descended from the rafters. The harness held him upright on two legs. Something that had started its career as a broom was taped onto his right foreleg.

Scribble Rune waved a hoof at the new arrival. "Behold: a human!"

The audience roared with laughter.

Trixie smirked. "Schadenfreude sells."

On stage, the human leapt fifteen feet into the air to pounce on the dragon.

He missed and drifted offstage behind the curtain, carried helplessly by his harness. There was a dull thud. For a second everypony was quiet, then erupted into a fresh peel of laughter as half of the human mask rolled out from behind the curtain and across the stage.

Draught cleared his throat loudly. Trixie turned his way. "Trix, listen. We have a few minutes. About Thursday..."

Trixie smiled wider. "Do not worry, The Great and Powerful Trixie knows what went wrong and will deliver a grand performance."

"Yeah, about that. Trixie, open stage night's not much of a draw."

"What are you saying?" Her eyes widened. "No! Trixie will..."

"Trixie, calm down, it's only for two weeks. We've got the Canterlot Knights coming in. I can't say no to that kind of act."

"But this is a theatre, a place for..."

"Human! Punch!" yelled a voice from the stage.

Draught gave Trixie an even look while Trixie gave in to a sudden need to scratch the back of her neck and watch the floor. "Trixie, this is my place. If I can pack these seats for a couple of nights, I will."

Years on the stage had taught Trixie to keep her expression calm. She sniffed once, then nodded. "Of course."

Draught sighed, "I know you love doing it. Look, it's not forever. Here." He pulled a blooming onion from a tray and put it on the counter. "On the house. You've only got twenty minutes left, so why don't we get Opal to cover your tables and you head home for the night?"

Trixie eyed the onion. Her mouth watered. She shook it off and pushed the dish back. "Thank you, but Trixie can't. She has to go to work in an hour... I'll pick it up when I go."

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The rare feeling of warm food gave Trixie some comfort as she pushed through the employees' entrance of the Prancing Pony. Her uniform, a negligee that somehow made her feel more exposed than being naked, clung tight and uncomfortable to her body. It was the one grace of her lost weight: the uniform had been unlivable before.

A wall of heavy bass beats hit her ears as soon as the door opened, even through the added buffer of the dressing room she now entered. The air was filled with bottled mare musk. She was careful to stay away from the dancers and their dressing tables as she moved through.

Another door and she was out on the floor. A stage stood at one end. A runway branched off it, running to the very center of the room and ending at a circular island of stage with a pole planted in it. Trixie knew that, from above, it looked like somepony had put a pin into a thermometer.

Tables filled the rest of big room wherever there was space, and nearly every cushion had a stallion on it.

The music died and a male voice echoed through the room. The voice, unlike those of most stallions in the room, sounded suave. "Now gentlecolts, please stomp your hooves for our main attraction this evening. The elegant, the graceful, the alluring, Azure Sky."

The crowd cheered. The music turned soft and melodic, an old classic Trixie couldn't quite put a name to.

On stage, the curtains opened to reveal a deep blue pegasus mare. She all but floated out onto the stage, flicking her wings open one at a time as she passed the tables. She reached the pole at the end of the runway, snagged it with the crook of her wing and used it to spin sharply around. A hind hoof hit the stage in time with a single, hard drumbeat. Sky threw a knowing grin to the audience as the deep, resounding drumming started and launched into her routine.

Trixie shook her head and went to the bar, grabbing a tray.

"You're on nine to sixteen tonight." Boost, the bartender, had to yell over the music.

Trixie nodded.

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The night was finally winding down. The music was quiet enough for Trixie to hear the growing headache pounding in her head, the dancers were all done for the night and last call was five minutes ago. Only a few patrons remained.

Trixie fought to keep her eyes open as she meandered from table to table, picking up the remnants the patrons had left behind. Rules or not, she wasn't above stealing their leftovers at this time of night. One of her tables was still occupied. With the kitchen closed and no more drinks coming, there was no reason to talk to them except to try to get more tips.

"Are you sirs..."

One of the patrons leaned over to her. A foreleg fell across Trixie's shoulders and pulled her to the stallion. She staggered under the weight. He leaned in close to Trixie’s face. His breath smelled like apples and paint thinner.

"Hey, you're not stuck up like that Azure Sky, are you, pretty lady?"

Trixie tried to pry the hoof off. "You can't be serious..."

"Thinks she's too good for me. A hundred bits and she said no." He dropped a bag on the table. "but fifty says you'll meet me out back."

The stallion’s friends, who were both laughing at her, suddenly stopped and stared past the show mare. Trixie looked back to see Boost and the bouncers standing behind her.

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Trixie looked into the spotted bathroom mirror. A mare she barely knew stared back. "Gaze in awe at the Great and Powerful Trixie." She hung her head. "When did Trixie become a joke?"

The floor didn’t answer.

She picked up her brush and set it to her hair. The motions were mechanic, lifeless. They’d become a token gesture to herself. When she was done, she stepped out into the kitchen. She looked up at the cupboard. There was still a meal or two of hay left. Her stomach growled, but she couldn’t bring herself to even look at the stuff. Her couch was starting to sound appetizing by comparison.

She kept walking through the kitchen to that very couch and laid down on the tweed, careful to avoid the broken wire that dug into her back and the large, brown stain. One sniff months ago told her that the stain hadn't been made by anything nearly so wholesome as coffee.

A bag squeezed its way out from under the couch, pulled by her magic. She upended the entire thing onto her coffee table, spilling a month’s worth of bits onto the table. Last night’s meager tips were added to the pile.

Leaning over the money, she counted every bit by hoof. Four little stacks of coins started forming on the far end of the table. For every bit that passed under her hooves, she saw a muffin. A pie for every three. Five for an oat smoothie.

She missed those.

Bit by bit, the pile vanished into those four stacks. The rest of the coins gathered into a smaller stack after the first four were made. A month of good meals sat before her. Nothing extravagant, but it would be good, hearty food.

There was a knock at the door. Trixie hiccupped and looked, but didn’t move.

Another knock.

Trixie gave the little stacks another long look, then angrily swiped all but the odd stack off the table and back into the bag. She grabbed the hem in her teeth and stomped over to the door. It glowed a light blue and was wrenched open. There stood an older stallion with a face that looked like it had been cut from granite with a dull axe. The bag of bits fell at his hooves.

"Yes, yes, Trixie knows. Rent."

The stallion raised an eyebrow, then shrugged and stooped to pick up the bag. Trixie slammed the door in his face.

Trixie turned and made her way back into the apartment, to the couch. She climbed up onto it and curled into a ball, hugging her chest to keep it still. In front of her, on the coffee table, stood that last stack of bits.

Another month of hay.

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Trixie stood in front of the Prancing Pony staring at the mouth of the alley. She still wore her uniform and held a borrowed bottle of musk in her mouth.

She continued to stare. The stallion had returned, made the same offer. There were fifty bits down that alley. Ten good meals, at least.

She might even enjoy it.

She laid her head against a wall. The cool brick eased the flush and weight of the long day from her temple. Eyes closed, she tried to ignore the aching emptiness in her stomach, tried to make the cool on her head be the only thing in the world.

Her stomach growled. It hurt.

Blue magic lifted the bottle from her mouth. The nozzle turned. Her head lifted. Two quick presses of the plunger sprayed the cup of her throat. Like the brick, the spritz was cool and refreshing, the scent warm, heavy and sweet.

It wasn’t so bad.

Another spritz sprayed high over her head, drifted down onto her back. Goosebumps rose on her skin where the tiny droplets hit her fur. The sensation was surprisingly pleasant.

Her stomach growled again.

"Shut up." Trixie’s voice quivered lightly.

She twisted her body around to see her side. The bottle came with her. She hesitated, then squeezed the plunger again, spraying a light mist onto her flank, onto the image of a wand and trail of stars.

A hiccup twitched through her core. Despite herself, she sniffled.

She smelled sweet.

Another twist of her body and she sprayed the other side. She didn’t look at her flank this time.

She swallowed the lump in her throat.

Her stomach churned, then growled.

The bottle shattered against the brick wall.

Trixie stared at the viscous, white blob that was slowly starting to run down the wall. Flecks of glass stuck to it, one occasionally falling to the ground with a dull plink. Her chest heaved, her breath coming in gasps and gulps. Violently, angrily, she shook her head so hard her eyes were forced shut. A bubbling pressure built deep in her heart until it burst from her mouth in a wordless cry, undulating as her head flew from side to side.

Her head twisted back, teeth pulling at the negligee she’d been forced to wear. It caught and pulled at her curves and horn. It finally surrendered and ripped apart. Its remains fluttered to the wall and fell on top of the bottle’s remains to make a gooey pile.

Trixie’s breathing slowed, calmed. Looking at the pile filled her with grim satisfaction.

"Are you alright, lady?" The voice came from behind her.

She looked back. At least a dozen ponies had stopped to stare at her. Some looked concerned, one was curious, most were just amused.

Trixie sniffed, thrusting her muzzle high into the air. "Of course." She spun around, snapping her tail at the crowd, and walked away down the street.

"Whatever," said one pony.

"Weirdo," said another.

Trixie ignored them. After she’d gone a block, she looked back over her shoulder. A black-on-mocha Earth pony, a buckskin, walked a few yards back, holding pace. He had the tall build of a Canterlot pony and wore a black suit jacket and tie.

"Can Trixie help you?"

He smiled like a fox eyeing a chicken coop. "You just cost me twenty bits, kid." His voice had a low scratching quality, like somepony just recovering from a chest cold.

Trixie set her head back forward with a ‘hmph.’ "The name is Trixie, and she doesn’t see how it’s her fault you lost money."

"Would you have gone in for a hundred bits?"

Trixie’s hackles rose, but she kept walking. "Trixie does not know what you are talking about, nor does she have time to play stupid little games."

"I caught your show in Trottingham. You trained in Fillydelphia, didn’t you? South side."

Trixie stopped and looked back. "How?"

Trixie got the impression that he could skin her with those teeth. "The stage name. The way you do the rope trick. Also, it’s my job. Call me a talent scout."

Trixie’s gasped. She spun his way, flicking her mane in a flourish and ending upright on her hind legs, her forelimbs spread wide to the sky. Straining with the effort, she pooled enough magic to summon a billowing cloud of smoke on the ground around her. "Then behold! The Great and Powerful..."

"I caught your show last Thursday. How long did it take to get you down from there?"

Trixie deflated, but kept the pose.

"You haven't got much left, do you?"

Trixie's breath caught, but she hid it. Instead, she dropped back to her hooves and started walking away again. "Trixie does not need to stand here and be ridiculed by an uncouth lout."

The stallion started walking with her again. "Kid, the only reason I'm talking to you is 'cause I'm on a schedule here. I usually wait 'til a mark's hit rock bottom."

"Then you will be waiting a very long time. And the name is Trixie. And Trixie is nopony's mark."

The stallion snorted. "Kid? You put it off a day. Maybe a week. How much do you think that bottle cost?"

Trixie flinched.

"How about that frilly number you tore up? Must’ve been worth a pretty penny."

Trixie grit her teeth, her head drooped, but she walked on.

"Figure you're at least a hundred bits in the hole. And joints like The Pony? Only got three of 'em in all of Manehattan. They talk. Word'll get around if you don't pay up. And for ponies like you, that's already bottom of the barrel. You figure anyone'll take you on if they hear you got kicked out for stiffing one?

“Listen kid, you talk to me now, or you'll talk to me in a week covered in stallion gravy. I’m doing you a favour here."

The mare stopped. "What do you want?"

He came up beside her. "Believe it or not, I want to give you a job."

Trixie blinked. "A job? What job?"

He laughed. "The kind of job ponies talk about on dark streets after midnight. You're a smart filly, you know it's not the kind you're going to put on a resume." He shrugged. "I need a unicorn. One with actual magic training. Right now, you're close enough. Job's not pretty, but you do one turn for me and you can put the Prancing Pony square behind you."

Trixie eyed the stallion, looking into his eyes for any hint of a lie. She didn't find any, though he still looked at her like she would look at an oat smoothie.

She said nothing.

The stallion stuck his muzzle into his jacket, pulled out a slip of paper and a small stack of coins. He dropped them on the ground beside Trixie. "You want to get out of this rut, you go to that address tomorrow." He turned and walked away. After a few steps he looked back over his shoulder. "And buy yourself a sandwich, for Celestia's sake."

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The next noon saw Trixie sitting on her stained couch. On the coffee table in front of her were The Buckskin's piece of paper, the coins he'd given her and small pile of hay from her cupboard. She forced herself to chew through a breakfast of the hay while she stared at the other two.

The windowless apartment felt smaller than it usually did. It seemed barer, somehow, though nothing save the clock had ever graced the walls since she'd lived there. She sighed.

Musk still covered her body from the night before. It no longer smelled sweet, just heavy; like cooking oil that was starting to turn.

Her schedule was free today. Neither Stage Left nor The Pony had her on the books. It happed happened far too often for her pocketbook's well being. Worse, somepony else had her stage tonight.

A niggling worry crept into the back of her mind that it was last night that that stallion had shown up. She wondered if he knew.

He'd known about Fillydelphia.

Trixie shook her head. "Get a hold of yourself," she said. "I'm giving him too much credit."

She looked at the paper again. It had a crude map drawn on it. The address wasn't far. Trixie poked the small stack of bits with the very tip of her hoof and watched it slide an inch across the old wood with a tinny jingle. Soon she was pushing it back and forth between her forehooves.

Distracted, Trixie picked up another mouthful of hay and bit down on a stone.

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Countless warehouses made of centuries-old stone lined both sides of the street. Very few ponies walked the street and those few were burly Earth ponies pulling heavy carts into and out of the buildings. In the near distance, Trixie could hear the rumble and bells from the port ahead and the din of the city from behind.

She came to a narrow street cut between two of the warehouses. She checked her map and ventured in. The sounds of the city muted and grew suddenly very distant. The street, only wide enough for maybe three ponies of Trixie's size to walk abreast, cut out most of the sun's light, even this close to noon, leaving everything cast in shadow. The place was deserted.

High above, a pony's head appeared over the edge of a roof, then vanished. The sight made Trixie's skin itch.

Halfway down the narrow street she came to a door left slightly ajar. Another check of the map and Trixie pushed it open.

Inside, the warehouse was in ruins. Cracked and crumbling walls defined the space. Where there had once been a second floor there was now only jagged edges of wood and stone. Everywhere there was rotten wood, rubble and at least a century's worth of debris. The place smelled of dust and mould. Flecks danced in columns of light that streamed in between the slats of the ceiling.

In the corner was the buckskinned stallion from the night before. He stood in a small area swept clean of all the dirt and detritus. Next to him was a table, small and simple, with a cushion on either side. On the table were two covered plates.

"You're later than I thought," he said.

Trixie huffed a laugh from her nose. "Then you should have told Trixie a time instead of expecting her to come running."

He gave her that predatory little smirk. "Really? Most dames in your position don't keep a paying stallion waiting. Not if they plan to eat."

Trixie prickled. Her fur puffed out as she drew herself up and evened a glare on him. He kept his smile even, then reached down to nose the cover off one of the plates. The revealed plate was piled high with lightly stewed vegetables sprinkled delicately with some green herb. Trixie guessed it was oregano, but then Trixie assumed any green herb was oregano.

"The food's gotten cold." The stallion's voice never wavered, but Trixie saw more than a little smug in his blue eyes. "You do like ratatouille, don't you? I like to do business over lunch. Keeps things from getting too formal."

Trixie eyed him as she edged over to the nearer cushion.

She sat down.

He nodded and calmly walked over to his side of the table and sat on his cushion. He started in, plucking a potato from his plate and chewing it slowly. He shrugged with his foreleg, his hoof gesturing to her plate.

Trixie looked down at the food, her mouth watering. With her magic, she pulled a perfectly stewed carrot up and slipped it daintily into her mouth.

The sweet locked her jaw the second the food touched her tongue. Her eyes followed suit as she took in a sharp, unbidden breath through her nose. It was a sigh not meant for polite company. She tossed her head back without noticing, flicking her mane. In her mouth, tastebuds she'd long neglected and forgotten sprang to life in glee.

A moan rolled out of her throat. Even back when food was a given, this would be the greatest thing she ever put in her mouth.

She dug in with gusto and without magic. For the first time in a long time she relished her food and her stomach was eager to accept it. She was halfway through when the blissful haze worked itself clear enough for her to realize that The Buckskin was watching her. He nibbled at his own plate, but his eyes stayed on her. That smirk stayed on his face.

"Don't stop on my account. Oh, you got a little something there." He swiped a hoof vaguely at his chin, then tossed her a napkin. Trixie caught it with her magic and wiped the generous sauce from her chin, then from the rest of her face. "Well, now that we've got that out of the way. Kid, what do you know about humans?"

Trixie blinked. "Trixie has had to sit through..."

"Serve through."

She glared at him. "Seen thirteen showings of The Manhattan Dragon."

"No, not that. You must've had a Gran. What kind of stories did she tell you?"

"The same as everypony knows. They are legendary creatures. They have hands like a monkey, can run as fast as a pegasus and are as strong as an Earth pony. They wear metal like dragon scales and hold bladed iron horns in their hands. They haven't come to Equestria in centuries,"

The stallion nodded, grinned wider and shifted back on his cushion. "What if I told you they weren't all that and that I've seen one a few weeks back?"

"Trixie..." He was still eyeing her. "I'd ask what kind of job you want me to do."

"Good girl. Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" He shifted in his seat, a foreleg coming up so he could prop himself up on the table. "Did you know there are laws about bringing humans to Equestria?" Trixie raised an eyebrow and shook her head. "Didn't think so. Stiff penalties for that. Owning humans? Even worse. Now, what do you suppose happens when a bunch of pampered Upper Crusts, who aren't so used to be told no, get told they can't do something?"

Trixie said nothing until the stallion lifted his eyebrows in a meaningful shrug. She realized that he was waiting for her. "They'll do it?"

"Bingo. Got it in one. Got us some spells to bring‘em in from where they live. That’s where you come in. Now, suppose I tell you that humans are a special kind of wicked in the sack? What then?"

Trixie swallowed. "You want Trixie... you want me to summon a human so somepony can..." her face screwed up in disgust, "have sex with it?"

"Actually, I want you to summon one so half a dozen colts can have sex with it. Bachelor party, way I hear it, but not something I worry myself about."

Trixie stared at the stallion, then glanced at her food and to the door. She swallowed hard.

The other pony laughed lightly. "Well, you might as well say it. Everpony does."

Trixie swallowed again. "What if I go to the guard?"

He smiled that same, damned, predatory grin. "Kid, you haven’t seen anything yet. You go to the guard, they’ll just look at you funny. Even if they do throw you a bone, all they'll find is an old warehouse. Don't tell me you didn't see the spotters. We knew you were coming ten blocks out.

“Same coin, you do this, we’ll take care of you, but you can never talk about it to anypony. You do, we all go down. You try, we’ll know and we’ll stop you. Nothing personal, you understand, there’s just a lot of necks on the line here. Mine not the least. You got a single doubt about this, you walk away now. Nothing happens.”

“Nothing?”

“Kid? Being honest here. Right now, you’re just another back alley washout three days from selling her flank. You're not worth our time.”

Trixie eyes stayed on the food in front of her. “How much?”

“I’m sorry, Kid, I’m a little deaf in this ear. Come again?”

“How much?”

“Good girl. Well, now, got a bit of a sliding scale there. Get us a prime specimen and you'll get more. Still, like I said, one turn with us and you can put The Pony behind you.” His eyebrows shrugged, knowingly. “And there are some fringe benefits to this arrangement, but we can worry about that later.”

He pushed his plate over to sit beside Trixie’s.

“You'd best eat up. You’re going to need your strength.”

She obeyed. While it no longer overwhelmed her palate, the food was delicious and she ate more than she should have. It left her feeling tired and bloated, but it was glorious to even be able to feel that way again. She wanted to curl up in a corner, even on the broken rubble, and sleep. That didn’t happen.

After she’d eaten, The Buckskin led her to the back of the warehouse. There, he opened the broken remains of a door to reveal a set of stairs heading underground. The tunnel disappeared into darkness.

“Stay close,” he said, not looking back. “You wouldn’t be the first pony to get lost down here.”

He went down and Trixie followed. Ten paces in she was blind, the only light coming from back the way they’d come. She pushed magic to the tip of her horn, making it glow.

“None of that,” The Buckskin said, “I’m not getting there and having you too weak to cast. Besides, got it covered.”

Trixie let her glow die. In the fading light she saw him prod a nearby stone in the wall aside. Behind it sat a lantern, already lit and ready. He took it in his mouth and led her into the darkness again.

The trip was long and winding. The walls changed from natural stone, to brick, to cut stone and back again. Many tunnels went by, but the stallion leading her seemed to know the way. Trixie, without anything else to do but follow, watched him. He would pause ever so briefly at every intersection, then press on. She could feel a pattern in the turns he was taking, but couldn’t put a hoof on it. The drowsiness in her head from the full belly didn’t help.

They eventually came to a long, straight tunnel and followed it. It ended at a door. The stallion set the lantern on a hook and knocked three times, paused, then twice more. The door swung open.

Two armoured ponies stood in the doorway. They peered out at Trixie and her guide. One nodded to the other and both moved out of the way.

The Buckskin walked in. Trixie stared. She had expected another warehouse. What she got was a theatre. It was small by any standard. The floor was only large enough to hold, maybe, a hundred ponies, but was made from polished, black granite. There were only two box seats set into the walls, one on either side, but they were both flanked by rich tapestries that hung ceiling to floor and would cost more bits than Trixie had ever seen in her life.

The stage, while not much larger than her wagon’s had been, was currently covered by a curtain of deep crimson. From its shimmer, Trixie would have bet her last bit, if she had any, that it was silk.

“I think she likes it,” one of the door ponies said. He was a peach-coloured Earth pony stallion with a hint of red poking out from under his helmet. The armour formed a skirt in back that hung low over his flanks and covered his cutie mark.

The other, another Earth pony, though he was a heavyset, cornflower stallion, just laughed and waved her through with a shake of his head.

Trixie stepped in, though her gaze drifted around the room, then up to the ceiling where a crystal teardrop chandelier dominated.

“You can gawk after you’ve done the job, Kid.” The Buckskin stood near a door at the side of the room. The cornflower guard gave her a playful kick to the thigh. It gave Trixie a start and she moved quickly over.

The hallway beyond was simple cut stone with light provided by sconces along the walls. Uniform doors dotted both side of the hall. A larger, double door stood at the end.

The Buckskin guided her to one of the smaller doors, apparently at random, and pushed it open for her. Trixie stepped through without a word.

“Is this a hotel?” she asked as she took in the room. Her hooves were on thick, shag carpeting. The walls were done up in a tasteful eggshell wallpaper with a coral relief texture. The ceiling was subdued stucco. In front of her was a plush queen-sized bed that was currently home to a platter of greens and a scroll case. Across from that was a writing desk that had a selection of drinks and a sweating decanter of water on it. Beside her was a door, currently open, that led into a small but pristinely white bathroom.

There were no windows anywhere.

“Right idea, but I wouldn’t call it that.” He paused. “Well, I guess some charge by the hour, so maybe close enough.”

Trixie's mind twinged with a sense of wrongness as understanding dawned, but it was one that passed quickly. Whatever use it had seen, the bed’s fluffy, white duvet looked divinely comfortable and her legs were sore from the walk. Her throat was parched from the dust of the tunnels. The chilled water called to her.

“This is all for Trixie?”

The Buckskin laughed. It wasn’t a kind one. “We take care of our investments. All this is so that Trixie can cast a spell so we can fill an order.” He nodded past her to the scroll case on the bed. “You’ve got a spell to learn, Kid. Best take the time to get it right, but don’t take all day. Holler when you’re ready.”

Trixie turned her head in time to see him close the door. Alone now, she walked into the room proper. She filled a crystal glass from the decanter. The glass, now glowing her magic’s blue, floated beside her as she crawled up onto the luxurious bed. Under the duvet was a pillow top. Trixie had never before had the pleasure. She let herself melt down onto the bed, letting it envelop her and take away the strains. A sip from the ice-cold water and she sighed.

She felt like a pony again.

It was with a contented smile on her face that Trixie pulled the scroll case over and set to work.

************************************************************************

Trixie found herself in what she could only describe as a dungeon. The room was half the size of the theatre and made from the same cut stone as the corridor outside. Despite being better lit than the hall, there was an intangible weight here that had been absent before.

A series of other corridors branched off from the main room, these ones not separated by any doors. From where she stood, she could see the barred door of a cell down one of those passages. She knew without asking that there would be more past it.

“Getting cold hooves, Kid?” The Buckskin asked. He stood behind her, between her and the double door back to the hotel corridor.

Trixie shook her head, both for his sake and to shake the feeling loose.

“Trixie is fine.”

"Good. Remember, we need a female."

The room itself was bare, save for runic circles the scroll had told her to expect. She had, however, expected to find one, not four. Each was set such that, were somepony to paint a cross through middle of the room, each of those quarters would have a circle at its center. They were carved directly into the floor with shallow, strict cuts and each was half again as wide across as a Canterlot stallion was long.

Trixie chose the nearest of the circles and stepped inside. The Buckskin was watching her. So were the two guards she’d met at the door. She could feel their eyes on her.

She forced herself to take a deep breath to calm her nerves and help her focus on gathering all the meager magic she had left in her body. Beneath her, the motions of the spell were written out in the runes, guiding energy from nearby ley lines into the core of the spell.

Into her.

The spell, she knew, was actually four. Four parts interwoven, each reinforcing and powering the other three. No part could be changed without rewriting the whole thing. It was simple, yet complex. Beautiful. The work of a master.

She fed energy from her horn down into the precise points of the circle, to the four corners of the spell. Precision was everything. The spell grew around her. It wavered once, but held. The old magics took over, pulling magic from her and the world around. She worked to slow it. Instinct would have her close up, starving the spell. Loose herself and it would bleed her dry. Carefully, slowly, she controlled the flow as magic swirled around her, pulling closer, feeding everything back into her and threatening to blow her away.

Then the room was gone.

Trixie tumbled through darkness. She kicked out her legs in panic, which only sent her tumbling faster. The thought occurred that she should be feeling nauseous, but she wasn't. That sensation seemed suddenly too distant. She couldn't explain it, even to herself, any other way. The tumbling slowed, eventually stopped. She could see, even in the darkness. A shift of her weight and she slowly turned over and around. There was something nearby, big, white.

It was the moon.

Trixie let out a startled shriek, or tried to. She had no air in her lungs.

Or lungs, for that matter.

The sensation of breathing, something she'd never really taken stock of until now, was gone. She turned again and saw Equestria beneath her, spread out like a map. She could see most of the Griffin Lands to the west of her homeland. The Equestrian sun poked out around the planet like a child playing hide and seek.

Trixie wanted to laugh. Without air or... she looked down to see her body as an ethereal, and very transparent, blue... or apparently a body, all she had was a bubbling of joy.

As the immediate wonder wore off, she felt a pulling out beyond the moon. Awkward shifting turned her to see and, there, she saw a long path. A shimmering azure tube trailed out into the cosmos far beyond what she could see. The spell urged her to it, and she obeyed. Getting her hooves under her, at least metaphorically, she pushed off of nothing and propelled herself to it. The magics whisked her away like a mother with her foal.

Stars flew past. The path carried her, propelled her, but the way wasn’t true. She canted and tumbled often. She learned quickly that a quick kick of her ethereal hooves would right her, speed her on the path. Soon she was galloping across the stars, dozens of light years passing with every lope.

Once, the path took her through the corona of a star. She didn’t slow. She didn’t want to slow. Powerful joy took over. Let it burn her.

She emerged unscathed. There was no pain here, no body to feel it with. If she still had physical lips, she might have worried she would split the skin from the smile. She wondered if this was what it was like to be a pegasus. Was this more than they ever felt?

Trixie barely registered the planet appearing on the path before she hit it, slamming into the ground faster than thought.

She lay where she hit, marveling even then that her ethereal body was unhurt. Her mind worked to make sense of the last fraction of a second. There had been the planet, and the continent, and the lakes in the middle of it. She'd hit somewhere west of those, she thought. If west still applied. If she’d been upright when she glimpsed it. She shook it off and rose to her hooves.

The world she found herself in was all in grey, though overlaid with blue wherever there was life.

Or was that blue...

she shook her head. It wasn't important. A glance down showed her that one of her hooves was inside a large rock. She quickly found herself trying very hard not to think about how solid the ground was, or should be, to her.

She took another look around. She was in a meadow. No, the grass beneath her was too well manicured to be natural, its faint living blue essence ragged where it had been so uniformly cut. She was in a park. A line of dead grey cut through the grass’ blue to a nearby patch of forest. A walking path, she realized. Leaning in close, Trixie saw the outlines of cobblestone in grey relief.

Giant buildings stood in the distance, on the far side of a lake that bordered the meadow. They were colossal, any one of them a match for Canterlot Castle. All of them were the same dead grey, though inside them she could see tiny spots of shining, brilliant blue moving about.

Above, the moon was out. Also grey. It was night.

She made her way to the path and let it lead her through the park. She didn't see any humans here. It occurred to her that, perhaps, humans didn't come out at night very often. Ponies didn't. Maybe humans didn't come to the park at all. She wondered what else might.

Ahead, where the path led into the wood, a smattering of shining blue blurs took to the air in a swarm. Birds, maybe, or whatever passed for birds here. It was only then that she realized that she could hear no sound.

A human appeared on the path. Its two long, elegant hind legs carried it upright down the path. It was running. The spell whispered to her that it was a female and she was dazzling. The power of the spell lit her in a royal blue so bright it should have hurt Trixie to look on it.

Trixie could see she was afraid.

Behind her came two other humans. Bigger ones. They were male and just a beautifully bright. Their mouths were moving. They were angry, yelling. She doubted she would have understood them had she been able to hear. Each male carried one of the legendary metal horns in one of their hands. They were either much smaller versions, or the legends had greatly exaggerated the horns’ size.

The males caught the female, clutching at her with their hands and dragging her to the ground under their combined weight. Her mouth opened into what had to be a scream. She fought them, kicking back at them with too long, too graceful hind legs. The males fought back as hard, pushing the female down and pulling at her clothes.

They were barbaric. Beautiful, but barbaric.

The female pulled away from her attackers, clawing at the ground, inching towards where Trixie had frozen on seeing them. One of the males caught the female’s head and brought his iron around to rest against her throat. She stopped struggling, her eyes wide and afraid.

Trixie looked down to where one of the female’s elegant hands rested on the ground. Lithe fingers opened and closed, grasping mechanically. The other male was now cutting the clothes from her body.

Trixie laid a hoof onto that hand and willed the last part of the spell to take hold. Something stored inside Trixie’s ethereal body uncoiled and struck. It tore the female from her mooring on her planet and instead attached her to Trixie's hoof. The jolt made Trixie shriek soundlessly. The human fell completely still, either asleep or dead.

In the same moment Trixie felt the pull back to the stars and, without willing it, she was catapulted away from the human world, back down the path. The trip seemed shorter, more draining, uncontrolled. All too soon she caught a glimpse of Equestria, then Manehattan, then her spirit slammed home into her body. The ethereal impact, the rush of life and the sudden weight of bone and sinew knocked the breath out of Trixie and threw her to the floor.

Drained and weakened, she struggled to breathe. The sound of a struggle came from behind her, barely audible over the blood pounding in her ears and the shrieking of an alien language. The fight was short lived and quickly moved away, down one of the halls.

Trixie lay there still, finally managing to get air into her chest. Her limbs wouldn't work. They weren't heavy. On the contrary, they were too light. Moving them felt like trying to swim through air. It was as if her will to move was only a passing interest to her physical self. Still gasping, she managed to rock her head to the side to look up when two pony heads appeared over her. One was The Buckskin, the other, the cornflower guard.

"She did survive," the guard said.

"I pegged her for a fighter," The Buckskin said. "C'mon, let's get her sorted out."

The pair worked to lift Trixie onto the guard’s back. She passed out sometime after they left the room.

************************************************************************

A/N: this one was a long time coming. It was originally going to be much longer, and still will be, but on going through again during writing I realized that it screamed for a chapter break here or I'd break my meter. So, we get two stories about Trixie, one right after the other.

Thanks for staying with me this far. We're coming up on the final arc of this one.