Heat and Desire

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.

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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."

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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."

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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.

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"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.

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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.

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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.

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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."

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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.

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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.

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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."

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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.

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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.