Heat and Desire

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.

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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.

And again.

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.

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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.

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"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?"

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"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.

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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.

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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.

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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.