Phantoms

The clothes make the man. This statement is truer than you think.

Case example, Reginald Blair; with his greasy hair, sleazy charismatic smile – and the little squint of the right eye because his normal expression wasn’t sleazy enough – Reginald Blair was dressed in what all corporation douche-bags were expected to wear. A business suit. Which in principle isn’t fair since there are certainly corporate business men out there who wear business suits and who are actually cool guys…

SNORT!

Okay, sorry. Couldn’t say it with a straight face. I’m kidding. Corporations suck. That’s like a necessary prerequisite to being corporation-y.

High above the streets of a city literally and metaphorically ‘below’ them, the board of directors were sat around a large rectangular table dominating the top floor meeting room of the Broham Toys Inc. headquarters. Each of them, like the lead stock-holder Reginald Blair, were dressed in their finest suits. But all of them were sitting patiently as Reginald calmly paced around the table presenting this quarter’s projects to them in ‘retard-proof’ format.

I.E. everything had to be spelled out literally (kinda like I have to do for you).

“… Meaning profits are above the projected percentages for this fiscal year,” Reginald presented happily as he made it to the front of the room, clamping his hands over the leather backrest of his chair.

The board of directors were either staring at him blankly or blinking amongst themselves.

“It’s good,” Reginald clarified, his expression not faltering. “We’re making money.”

Letting out a long “ooooooh,” there were nods and smiles all around.

“Money is good!” one of the men announced with an ear-to-ear grin. Reginald made a mental note to give that guy a gold star after the meeting.

A smart looking woman with neat spectacles raised her hand; true intelligence betrayed by her childish voice and the colour of her hair. “But Reginald! Reginald! How do we make sure to make more money next year, Reginald?”

“Excellent question!” Reginald assured, and the woman smiled proudly. Stepping around the chair, the man planted his hands on the conference table, leaning forward heavily as he flashed his fellows a confident smile. “Boys and girls, we’re going to invest in what works!

“The new Magical Legend Pony line is a huge success. People are eating up all this happiness, rainbows and friendship shit like its candy. The cartoons promote a new toy every episode, each of which becomes hugely popular each week! What’s more, we’ve tapped an entirely unexpected market.”

“The bronies, sir?” the woman from earlier asked.

“Yes! The bronies! Just think of it. We can branch out the franchise. Create age-group exclusive spin-offs to sell even more products at ridiculous prices!”

“But what about all the money we spend on animators, storyboarding, writers and voice actors?” one man noted.

“We don’t spend any money on that stuff!” Reginald laughed, then said as if it was the most normal thing in the world, “we have a secret inter-dimensional gate in orbit. We use it to travel to a real Equestria where our teams of highly trained photographers, filmographers and operator-ographers known as ‘phantoms’ film the adventures of the Magical Legend Ponies live. They send the footage to us in the editing room and thus a new episode is produced. A new episode with a new toy-line we can overcharge for!”

With an uncommon spark of sobriety and common fucking sense in his eyes, one of the directors blinked as he stammered, “r-… really? Are you serious?”

Reginald gave a charming little laugh. “What? You didn’t think we’d waste precious money and resources on a room full of sweaty animators and geeky voice actors when instead we could spend billions on cool sci-fi technology and a group of badass operators with neat toys did you?

“Now, William… do you mind if I call you Paul?”

“That’s not my-…”

“Larry, our methods of getting the footage is unimportant,” Reginald continued. “What we need to focus on is new products to sell. What sells better than ‘feel-good’ bullshit?”

A woman uncertainly raised her hand as she spoke. “Uh… sex?”

Reginald pointed her out like she was bang on the money. “That’s right, Marceline.”

“Helen.”

“Bethany,” Reginald stated as if completely ignoring her as he explained, “the porn industry is the highest profit grossing industry of our age. This is why I’ve had the phantoms open up a class of footage to gather for our new experimental toy line. We call this imagery, peeps.”

At the front of the room the plasma-screen TV mounted on the wall flashed to life as if obeying Reginald’s vocal commands. The image dominating the screen was a young female pony. She had a light grey coat and a messy yellow mane and tail. She was down on all fours, her cheek pressed against the ground with her amber eyes crossed – either with joy or if they were always like that nobody could tell. Her butt was raised high into the air, exposing the bubbles printed on her flank, and the glistening line of flesh between her thighs. One of her fore hooves reached up between her hind legs and was pressed against the tip of the slid, a thin line of moisture connecting the pink flesh and the hoof.

She was obviously enjoying herself judging by the way her tongue was rolled out of her mouth and the puddle of drool forming under her chin.

Reginald quickly explained the adorable not-safe-for-work imagery the board of directors were exposed to. “While some phantoms go out to gather footage for Magical Legend Pony episodes, others go out and gather ‘peeps,’ footage of ponies fulfilling their more carnal urges. This not-safe-for-work footage is gathered for editing and sale online and on pay-per-view, and is also to be used in the labs for product prototyping.”

“But what kind of products related to ponies… y’know… how do you sell associated toys?”

Using the word ‘toys,’ the man who’d spoken had also pretty much answered his own question, and with bugged eyes he let out a small, “oh.”

“You see, Bob…”

“Bob,” Bob corrected.

“That’s what I said. You see, Bob, this line of products would be the kind adult fans of Magical Legend Pony would pay top-dollar for since all of them are basement dwelling man-children, all their girlfriends’ names ending in dot-JPG, and every one drooling for an inflatable pony to call their own.”

Shaking his head, Bob didn’t seem to like that plan very much. “This doesn’t seem right, Reginald. We shouldn’t be developing porn films and adult toys. We’re a family friendly company!”

Locking eyes with Bob, Reginald’s expression twitched. But with his smile intact, he reached into his jacket and whipped out his rather large nickel-plated friend with the words ‘Desert Eagle point-five-oh’ written along the side. He paused to aim horizontally like a ‘gangsta,’ then blasted Bob with a single shot, sending him plummeting out of sight behind the conference table under a shower of confetti that used to be his meeting notes.

“So is Disney, motherfucker,” he said cheerfully. “And just look at how much pussy is drooling over the fucking Jonas Brothers.” Tucking the pistol away again, Reginald’s relaxed posture returned. “And that’s my plan for the next fiscal year.”

The other directors may still not have fully understood what ‘fiscal year’ meant, but they broke out into abrupt applause none the less. Reginald bowed proudly to his adoring audience.

However there was one more concern as a woman raised her hand for one last question. “While this is all ingenious and I really do want your babies, Reginald; this method of producing Magical Legend Pony episodes sounds dangerous. If the phantoms are discovered, we could have trans-dimensional trouble and the very fabric of space-time could collapse on itself. Or worse, we could face lawsuits.”

There were various grave nods among the directors. Reginald, as usual, laughed it off with a casual wave.

“Don’t you worry your fluffy little heads. I am so confident in the training and equipment issued our phantoms that I sent my own brother to Equestria to gather some test footage for the adult line.”

And that was how business on a corporate level worked. At least that’s how the offices of his employers worked in the mind of Foxtrot-12.

~~~

“Operator as &!#@”
[\ Play Phantom ‘Peep’ Recording Q-261-B-370: Captain Shining Armour / Princess Cadence]

The clothes make the man. The statement really was true.

Whereas his brother’s suit made the eldest of the Blair-brothers a total pansy-man ass-factory, the middle Blair-sibling’s tactical gear made him a get-out-there, wilderness-conquering, manly-man with an extra side of badass.

Theoretically speaking. Foxtrot-12 never considered himself a badass of any kind. He was just a ‘practical’ photographer. Most people of his ‘profession’ preferred a good telescopic lens and a few hours of photoshop back in the workshop. Foxtrot-12 preferred getting up close and personal to the action. Which was why he’d been accepted into the ranks of phantoms in the first place, family ties notwithstanding.

Unfortunately this method of photography meant danger and hard labour. And at the very moment in time while his big brother was entertaining a board of directors back home on Earth in comfy leather seats with promise of a visit to the bar afterwards, Rigel Blair was engaging in some serious hard labour.

Rigel; AKA, ‘Foxtrot-12’; AKA, ‘Twelve’; AKA, ‘stop being a dumbass you fucking retard,’ reached up and locked one hand against the smooth wall he was scaling. The motion was slow and jittery, all the human’s limbs trembling with a mixture of fatigue and ‘wet-himself’ fear. Thankfully though there wasn’t any need for an adult diaper just yet, unless you needed one of those for testicle-perspiration.

In which case the diaper was needed, but unfortunately not present.

The palm of his glove locked in place and Rigel groaned as he hauled himself up a little higher, the pouches of his tac-vest scraping along the smooth palace wall. Rolling his other hand off the wall, he outstretched his shaky arm and slapped the hand down again. With a blink of soft green lights and a soft hum of energy, the nano-glove locked in place and allowed him to repeat the process of hauling, peeling and slapping.

Clambering up the side of the Crystal Palace like Spiderman, Rigel couldn’t deny the view was dazzling. He could see for miles all around, a vast beautiful landscape of rolling hills lit by the pale light of the full moon with spire-like mountains turning the horizon vertical. High above him, the tallest spires of the palace were topped with flags caught on the chill night breeze that pierced Rigel’s clothes and caused shrinkage in all the bad places. Far below him, the Crystal Empire twinkled in the night, street and window lights glittering like the stars above.

“There has got to be an easier way of doing this,” he complained between pants of air, his volume just a tick above that of the howling wind and the whine of the nano-gloves clinging to the palace exterior wall.

Rigel sighed nervously. He wasn’t nervous about spying on ponies who could turn him inside out with a simple spell. He wasn’t nervous about being in a totally different dimension from where he was supposed to live.

He looked down. The ground was a dizzying distance below, the sight of it warping Rigel’s very perception causing the world to waver and alternate in his eyes between regular and fishbowl vision. That was why he was nervous.

The only thing keeping him from plummeting to his doom were the little velcro straps tightening the nano-gloves around his wrists. Considering professional climbers would have safety harnesses, safety lines, backup safety lines, anchoring gear and much more – and considering Rigel had none of that, he had every right to be concerned.

As he clawed his way up the side of the palace, Rigel was still not safe from prying eyes. It was safer out there than inside where the Crystal Empire guard patrols were thicker than trifle; but every so often the human would have to avoid the odd air patrol.

Catching the sound of flapping wings over the soft howl of the wind, Rigel quickly slapped his hands down beside each other and pulled himself up, curling into a ball. As he did, he pulled the hood of his cloak up over his head and gathered himself in the silvery fabric. With a shimmer of the shadows, he vanished from sight, and not a moment too soon.

Banking around the palace above the phantom’s head an orange pegasus in golden armour floated on the breeze, his feathery wings spread wide as he lazily glode down his patrol route. As quickly as the sentry had floated into view, he disappeared, gliding off around the far end of the palace and out of sight; none the wiser about a trans-dimensional alien scaling the palace walls he was supposed to be inspecting.

With a sigh – not of relief unfortunately – Rigel peeled a hand off the wall, slapped it into place and continued the laborious, monotonous climb.

Looking at him you might mistake him for someone with a curriculum vitae boasting a background in forces of the ‘special’ variety. And we’re not talk about the ‘yellow bus’ special here. Nothing could be further from the truth. Rigel was one-hundred-percent, home schooled, pampered suburban rich-boy civilian. He’d never even fired a real gun before. If he was an operator-as-fuck badass, his climb up the side of the Crystal Palace should have been a walk in the park.

Reaching a balcony about halfway up the sleek palace walls, Rigel reached out and locked his fingers on one hand over the guardrail. With a groan he dug the toes of his boots against the slick surface of the building’s outer walls before peeling off his other hand and hooking his arm over the balcony’s edge.

Pulling himself over the low balustrade, Rigel rolled over one shoulder, then collapsed onto the balcony in a blubbering heap of pathetic impotence. Panting and wheezing like an obese dog, he slowly wrapped his invisibility cloak around himself to form a little bit of visual cover in case another patrol hovered by while he was catching his breath.

He was breathing so hard he almost didn’t hear the voice in his headset.

“Foxtrot-twelve, this is Foxtrot-actual. You there yet, over?”

Rigel swallowed hard before mustering a reply for his team leader, Foxtrot-actual. “Gimme a sec, dude. I’m at checkpoint one.”

There was a small chuckle from the man on the other end of our squad-comms. “Oh, good. Only two more to go.”

“Kill me now…”

Foxtrot-actual chuckled again. “Take your time, bro. You still got two hours until mission-go.”

“Goodie-gumdrops.”

Checking his surroundings were clear, Rigel rolled out of his cloak and pulled the hood back. Invisibility cloak draped from his shoulders, the young man climbed to his feet and gingerly stepped out of the cool night air into the palace hallways. And almost immediately after poking his head inside, Rigel froze, then backed into the nearest shadows between a set of old Royal Guard armours lining the wide corridor.

Only fifty metres down the corridor, facing him – but currently looking the other way with drowsy eyes – was a Crystal Empire guardspony. Distinguished by the purple coat with shimmering glass-like qualities and quartz-like armour, the guard looked out of it as he slowly turned his head one way and the other in a desperate attempt to add some spice to his posting and stay awake. But as a result of sleepiness, he didn’t even realising the shifting shadows in one corner were not an optical illusion caused by fatigue, but in actual fact Foxtrot-12 reaching down to his side.

Keeping the guardspony square in his sights, Rigel grabbed the rifle that had been dangling by his side this whole time and pressed the stock against his shoulder.

Based on an M4A1 carbine… or was it an AR15? Could’ve been an M16 mind you. Or perhaps even an ABC-Y1837-4-28D-whatever! It was a rifle, does it even matter what it was called? It had a grip, a barrel and a trigger! On top of that, it was all dressed up for a party with a laser pointer, high powered torch, vertical front grip, digital sights; and it was declared hot to fuck shit up with the magazine in place and dust-cover snapped shut.

It was a rifle that would make a MAGPUL Dynamics instructor shit his pants with jealousy. Though at the same time, he’d shit his pants with disappointment as the rifle wasn’t even classed as a death-dealing implement of un-prejudicial murder.

Rigel’s rifle wasn’t even a gun. It looked like a gun, following the designs popularised by what Ammurikuh’s Special Forces guys carried. It was carried like a gun, in a fashion popularised by badass looking shooting instructors on YouTube shooting all dynamic ‘n shit.

But it didn’t operate like a gun. It was Rigel’s ‘cam-rifle.’ A completely gutted and refitted old rifle that was slated to have been destroyed before he saved it from the garbage transport heading home.

He’d taken out the bolt, springs, most of the levers and internal parts until he was left with just a shell. Then he’d put a multi-purpose digital camera into it. The lens was embedded into the muzzle and wired thought he barrel into the body where the rest of the camera parts were snugly housed. The fire selector switched between ‘safe,’ meaning ‘safe’ obviously, ‘semi-automatic,’ meaning ‘still photos,’ and ‘full-automatic’ meaning ‘video mode.’

You get three guesses as to what the trigger did, but I bet you’ll get it in one.

The magazine, more of which were tucked into pockets on Rigel’s tac-vest, contained a battery pack and a hard drive to power the cam-rifle and safely store any pictures or video he took.

As if his invisibility cloak and pseudo-operator tactical gear weren’t enough – ‘gratuitous’ didn’t even begin to properly describe his camera setup.

Squaring the drowsy guardspony in his sights, the phantom took a knee to stabilise the shot, then leaned out a little to alter the lateral angle ever so slightly. Squeezing the controls in the front grip, Rigel zoomed in his view. Immediately the pony centred in the sights slid closer, revealing more of the fine details in his armour, the emblems adorning the chest and flanks, even the way the moonlight shining through a nearby window glinted on his crystalline coat.

Squeezing the trigger, Rigel almost expected to be winded by recoil… nope; there was just a small, muffled click of the SLR shutter as the image on his digital sight was captured and stored. The phantom grinned from ear to ear, watching a preview of the image dominate his sights for a moment, then fade away. His first picture with his shiny new cam-rifle in the field. It was working a charm. And best of all, his first pic wasn’t of ponies bonking.

As if sensing his pride, a voice cracked the silence, speaking directly into his ear.

“Foxtrot-Actual to Foxtrot-Twelve. How’s the cam-rifle working out?” came the digitally transmitted voice of Foxtrot team’s leader somewhere far across Equestria.

Rigel replied in a whisper as he pulled back into the shadows. “Pretty good. Not only am I taking cool shots, I feel and look really cool taking them.”

A chuckle rang in his ear as a new voice, one of the other members of Foxtrot team piped into the conversation. “I might get you to commission me one o’ those, Twelve,” the typical gun-nut accent drawled… y’know. He was Texan.

“Before you know it Foxtrot team is gonna be rolling custom-as-fuck,” Rigel chuckled as he moved off, back towards the balcony he’d infiltrated through.

When he made it to the open air again he looked up at the next stretch of ninety-degree wall he had to scale to reach checkpoint two. With a sigh he locked one hand on the sleek wall, his nano-glove whining to confirm purchase while he planted his boots firmly on the low balustrade running the edge of the balcony.

“Foxtrot-twelve, Phantom-actual,” a woman’s terse voice snipped in Rigel’s headset. The sound to it was both exciting in the way you’d get excited at the sight of your BDSM mistress walking into the dungeon, but also terrifying… for all the same reasons. “Progress?”

Rigel smiled politely as if his manager could actually see him. It was a knee-jerk reaction, like recoiling to defend yourself from getting punched in the face. Mind you, whenever the field operations commander Phantom-actual was in earshot, metaphorical ass-kicking followed. She was not a lady to be fucked with.

“One more floor to go. I just paused for a picture of opportunity, over.”

Phantom-actual huffed before she snipped, “well lock it down and keep moving, Twelve. Over and out.”

“Yes, mum,” Rigel snarked childishly. Mind you, his manager didn’t hear him as he had the common sense to turn off his comms first.

Looking down, Rigel immediately regretted the glance. He squeezed his eyes shut, tried to blank the sight of the cold hard ground eagerly waiting to embrace him several miles below, and hopped from the balustrade. His nano-glove immediately took hold as the moment of vertigo set pins and needles in his fingertips and puckered his asshole and he proceeded to shakily resume his climb up along the outside of the palace.

The monotony slowly became procedural, and before Rigel realised, minutes turned to an hour and the next checkpoint came into view. The next balcony in his path was smaller than the last, more like a jutting platform for royalty’s private view over their domain. The throne room balcony only stuck out a radius of a metre, only a couple of metres across.

“Almost there,” Rigel announced in a whisper. However as he paused his climb and realised there was no reply, he risked peeling a hand off the wall to tap his headset microphone. “Hey, boss? You read me? I said I’m almost there.”

The subsequent pause wasn’t as long as the previous before the woman’s voice came back to say, “Foxtrot-12; Phantom-actual copies your statement. However, if you continue to grossly neglect comms-discipline and vocabulary, we’re going to have a problem. Over.”

Rigel grinned behind his scarf. “Oh, c’mon, Libby, what’s got you so sour?”

‘Libby’ didn’t seem to react, and Rigel imagined her expression didn’t change from her usual serious demeanour. She just said with a crazy calm voice, “you call me by name on open comms again, Twelve, and I’m going to walk to your quarters and break your X-box. How-copy, over?”

At first he thought she was joking. “Wh-...” Rigel’s eyes bugged as he realised his boss-lady never joked… ever. “Interrogative. Uh, Oscar Wilde to observationary point thingy with double-time speediness on the alpha-papa... uh... FOB on-... err...” Feeling like he’d jammed his foot into his own mouth he decided to call it quits. “Fuck it. Over and out.”

Like at checkpoint one, Rigel tiredly approached from the side, shimmying over before dragging himself exhaustedly over the low balustrade. Collecting himself from the heap he landed in, the human clambered to his feet, holding one of the pillars framing the open doorway for support as he checked the coast was clear.

It wasn’t, but with most of his body concealed under the invisibility cloak he didn’t worry about the pair of inattentive pony royalty with their flanks turned on him.

Sidestepping out of the balcony doorway, Rigel kept his cam-rifle lowered as he slipped behind one of the curtains just inside the throne room. He was hidden just behind the Crystal Empire princess’ grand chair, the cavernous chamber stretched out before him.

The first of the two ponies in the throne room was none other than captain of the Royal Guard and prince by marriage, Shining Armour. He was a pretty bog-standard stallion, buff and athletic as one might expect from a pony in the military, with nappy dark blue hair and a white coat of groomed fur.

The other pony was one you might be more excited to acquaint yourself with – the very lovely Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, or as she generally preferred; Cadence. A pale cerise mare, she followed the typical build of most of Equestria’s royalty. She had long limbs, a skinny flank and on the overall a slight, slender build. Or if you’d prefer, she was skinny enough she might be blown away by the slightest breeze.

With big, adorable purple eyes, her mane and tail were something of a complicated affair. Long and sleek, both her mane and tail ended in elegant curls, the hair streaked with a mixture of violet, rose and pale gold.

Leaning out behind the curtain with his cloak pulled over himself, Foxtrot-12 held his cam-rifle level. The photogenic mare and her new husband were Rigel’s targets. Though the briefing had said he would have to catch up with them in their bedroom at checkpoint three, another kilometre or so above his head. Thankfully, it seemed both Shining Armour and Cadence were already getting cosy in the throne room.

“Cadence, there you are,” Shining said in his usual ‘surfer-dude’ voice as he approached the throne where the cerise alicorn sat. Honestly, with a groany, hippy-voice like that it simply baffled Rigel how that guy was in charge of soldiers. The human knew ex-Special Forces hard-hitters who had led men into life-and-death situations. And none of them sounded like that.

“Do you know what time it is?” Shining Armour added as he reached the steps running up to the throne.

“Hmmm?” Cadence hummed as she lifted her eyes from a pile of scrolls stacked next to where she sat. “Oh, Shining.” Her confused expression turned bright at the sight of her prince. “Yes. I’m sorry, I got caught up with work.”

“Long day at the office, your highness?” Shining mocked with a sly bow.

Cadence giggled.

Taking that as the cue allowing him to rise, the stallion hopped up the steps to reach his wife and pecked her on the lips. She seemed to immediately forget about all her pending work as she sat back, wrapping her front legs around his neck.

Moving in close, Shining Armour pressed his lips to Cadence’s again, only this time both of them opened their mouths, kissing deeply. Cadence let her eyes fall such as she sighed into her husband’s mouth, cocking her head to one side as she tightened her grip, pulling his body against hers. Shining Armour stumbled, having to prop his fore hooves onto the throne the princess sat upon, but he managed to keep his balance without breaking the kiss.

While he was obscured from the prying eye by his invisibility cloak, Rigel was far from masked from the sounds he made. He still had to obey noise discipline. The phantom had to make sure he didn’t have loose change in his pocket – just for example.

Though despite all the training he’d been put through, Rigel was still civilian to the core. He couldn’t help give in to the simple pleasures of being a regular old guy. Monologue-ing to one-self at a moment where another more disciplined individual might keep their trap shut was one such pleasure.

“Three years of Art College and look at me now;” Foxtrot-12 mused quietly as he pushed the selector into video-mode and began recording. “Paid to be an inter-galactic peeping-Tom.”

Meanwhile, as he zoomed in on their faces, Shining Armour pulled against his wife’s grip enough to break the kiss just a millimetre, flashing a view of their tongues vigorously wrestling for dominance. Breaking away from Cadence’s lips, the stallion managed to slip from her grip, tracing a line of kisses under her chin and down her neck. As Shining Armour was making rapid contacts like a jack-hammer skipping down along the alicorn’s sleek body, Rigel could see where this was going.

Shit was about to get real as fuck, and he needed a better position. A ‘higher’ position. Turning his gaze upward, he spotted a position flanking high above the throne at the top of the cavernous room. A balcony generally reserved for ceremonies where the fanfare would be blown from.

Rigel sighed as he realised he had more climbing to do.

Turning, he dashed from cover and let his cam-rifle dangle from its sling, neatly at his side. Leaping against one of the supporting pillars, the human managed to bound two paces up the vertical surface before locking his nano-gloves in place. Latched on almost halfway up to the balcony, Foxtrot-12 quickly finished his ‘Assassin’s Creed’ manoeuvre with a standard hand-over-hand climb to the terrace, and pulled himself on.

Keeling in his new position with a better view, he brought his cam-rifle to bear and proceeded with recording. From the new angle he could see all the action. Cadence sitting with her hind legs spread wide, one fore hoof planted by her flank and the other running through her mane. Her spine was curled a little so she slouched against the throne’s backrest with her head rested back.

The blissful expression pitched up at the ceiling was explained by Shining Armour’s actions; his face buried between his mare’s thighs. His head bobbed a little, nodding up and down as he licked vigorously at something just out of sight. But little was left to the imagination as Rigel’s laser-mic picked up the slurping, lapping noises he was making.

At the same time Cadence was moaning sweetly, enjoying every blissful moment as Shining lapped at the soft, sensitive parts between her thighs. Her chest was rising and falling faster all the time as her body started moving on its own accord.

Her fur seemed matted from a mixture of Shining’s oral attention and Cadence’s own pooling desire. The view was quickly obscured again, and Rigel was forced to zoom out a little when Shining Armour’s cutie-mark filled his viewfinder. Framing the couple again, he saw Shining was propped up on the throne, mounting the alicorn in a missionary position. Cadence’s gold-clad hooves wrapped around the captain’s neck and waist, holding him in place as he teasingly bucked his hips a little. The laser-mic picked up a wet noise as the princess’ opening was teased with a slow rubbing.

Cadence was trembling with excitement as Shining played her, keeping perfectly calm and sober while his wife slowly but surely went insane. Her mane having been neat only a few minutes ago was a tangled mess where she’d been raking her hooves through it. Her eyes were wide and aflame with desire, glaring at Shining’s mockingly calm expression.

“What’s the matter, honey?” Shining Armour asked slyly.

Princess Cadence gave a predatory growl, tightening her grip and bucking her excited marehood against the tip of her husband’s stallionhood.

“Shut the buck up and just buck me-… AAAAAAAHH~” Cadence’s head tipped back and she cried out at the heavens as she said the magic words.

Shining Armour, with a smirk, had straight up forced his hips forward, assaulting her sopping, slick sex with one definitive push. Forcing open her soft walls, he hilted her in one go, forcing Cadence’s eyes to go googly as she clenched her lover tightly. He didn’t stop there though, following up with a few short thrusts causing the alicorn to let out a few breathless moans.

Swallowing a breath, Cadence let her tongue roll out the corner of her mouth with a thin streak of drool running down her jawline. All the while Shining Armour was beginning to thrust in and out of her snatch, pulling back until just his head was engulfed in her silken folds, then pushing forward and hilting himself deep inside her again with a wet smack and a wet patch forming on the throne’s cushions.

Shining’s own eyes fell shut as he gritted his jaw trying to focus. With every thrust Cadence was bucking her hips to meet him half-way, urging him to go faster. Rigel could almost tell by the way her cheeks flushed and the fire of fury vanished from her eyes that she was getting close to satisfying herself. There was a spark in her expression. A joyous, blissful look. Like she didn’t give a damn if the whole world came to an end right there and then. She was happy. And in a few moments she could shrug off her mortal coil and not even care.

Suddenly she bucked forward, hilting Shining Armour deep inside her and causing him to let out a grunt as he clenched hard. Cadence clenched at the same time, though for all sorts of different reasons. While Shining was trying not to cum, Cadence let her very soul flow from her. Her mouth was agape, eyes gently shut. Her whole body bucked and twitched like she’d been possessed by a demon spirit of ‘the funky dance.’ Waves of heat seemed to hit her as her cheeks, chest, flanks and belly turned bright red. And after the heat, came the waves of liquid.

Shining Armour tried to buck his hips again, but Cadence was clamped onto him so hard when he pulled back, she moved with him and slid from the throne. Both of them collapsed onto the steps, the stallion looking rather shocked as Cadence giggled breathlessly, finally relaxing her body. As she did her husband seemed to instinctively pull back, and in a single gliding motion with a light wet pop he pulled out of her completely.

Rigel stared as Cadence shakily climbed to her hooves, lightly kissing an unsatisfied Shining Armour. He had to admit it, that girl was pretty hot on the sack. And despite how it looked, she wasn’t finished. Judging by the wet streaks forming on her inner thigh as she led her husband to his hooves, she was ready to go again and finish the job.

“Follow me,” Cadence cooed seductively before hopping off across the throne room with a light skip, her flanks wiggling from side to side.

Only half finished and in a sex-drunk state, Shining Armour wasted no time in sprinting after her, almost catching up and re-mounting her in the middle of the throne room. Fortunately Cadence was quicker than she looked, and with a flap of her wings managed to dash giggling and teasing just out of reach.

Shutting off his cam-rifle and rising to his feet, Rigel quickly moved along the high ground to follow, cursing at the same time. Damn kids now and days, had to spread their loving around. Couldn’t just have sex in one location. Nooooo, it’s all more exciting if you do a little running around the fucking place in between.

Just as Shining Armour and Princess Cadence disappeared through the massive throne room doors that hung on a crack, Rigel ran out of path. It was either run stubbornly into a wall at the end of the throne room like a lemming, or jump off the gallery… like a lemming.

Shoving his cam-rifle behind his back, Rigel hopped over the low banister, one hand slapped over the smooth surface of the barrier. His glove locked in place with a soft whine and before he could say “mission impossible two’s trailer highlight” he was dangling one handed over the edge of the balcony. Gauging the distance to the floor, he peeled his hand back one finger at a time before the nano-glove’s grip on the polished marble of the banister let go completely with the sound of tearing velcro.

Falling a baker’s dozen feet, Rigel quietly hit the deck boots first before curling into a ball and rolling on impact. The roll on the other hand wasn’t as quiet as his landing, his cam-rifle clattering noisily on the polished floor, his gear pouches scraping and metal zippers chiming their song. Even his knee made noise, the hard plastic scraping noisily on the marble where he sat for a moment.

He coiled as he sat there on one knee looking around to make sure nopony had heard him and half-expected Phantom-actual to magically appear behind him to smack him one for being clumsy. Slowly lifting himself onto his feet, the human gingerly moved to the throne room door. With his invisibility cloak’s hood up over his head, he peeked through the tall doors, hearing Cadence giggling and catching sight of Shining Armour’s tail vanishing into a spiralling stairwell.

Seeing the next hall was clear of guards, Rigel forwent stealth for speed. His cam-rifle balanced across his chest in both hands, Foxtrot-12 lowered his head and sprinted after them, his cushioned boots sounding like the soft clip-clip of a pony out on a leisurely stroll while his cloak rippled on the air in his wake like liquid mercury.

Reaching the spiralling stairwell, Rigel slipped into the confined corridor and followed the smooth stone steps upward to the next floor. It was claustrophobic in the staircase, the walls practically brushing his shoulders and the ceiling low enough to skim the top of his cap. If he ran into a pony climbing those steps there would be hiding and no running. So he ascended slowly, one step at a time at a steady pace, all the time listening for the tell-tale hoof-falls of anypony that might be coming down, or coming up behind him.

He reached the next floor without incident, once again pulling up his hood and poking out his head to look left and right before crossing. The next corridor was much smaller than the one outside the throne room, more suited to normal traffic rather than the formal parades that passed through the main halls.

To the right was clear of traffic, but to the left he saw the hallway outside the royal quarters end in a small pane-less window. And sitting outside the last door in the hall saw Shining Armour like a neglected puppy.

The captain was a pathetic shell of himself, a shame to males of all species. Like a blubbering sad pile of shit he sat outside the locked bedroom door with a pathetic expression on his face, helplessly pawing at the wooden panels with a hoof. He was so desperate for the snoo-snoo he didn’t even realise he looked like an idiot.

Then again, Foxtrot-12 had to pause and think about the last time he’d gotten laid… and then realising he was getting less pussy than the pathetic excuse of a royal guardspony, jealously ripping on Shining Armour became suddenly more satisfying.

Swishing like a ghost behind the captain who was too distracted to even notice the human in close proximity, Rigel slipped out the window and over the lintel like he’d done over the throne room terrace earlier. Only this time both hands locked onto the window-sill and he hung curled just out of sight under the window.

Trusting his nano-gloves not to let him plummet to his doom as he hung on the outside of the palace again, Rigel finally remembered not to look down. Looking to his side though he spotted a well-lit window.

One lunge at a time Rigel shimmied to what had originally been the final checkpoint from which observation should have started; before slapping a hand down on top of the stone lintel and pulling himself up to see inside. Foxtrot-12 realised in an instant that he’d hit a jackpot. And he wasn’t thinking about the fact he was looking into Shining and Cadence’s bedroom.

The cerise alicorn had just slipped out of the en-suite, the sight of her literally causing Rigel’s eyes to widen and his jaw to drop. Princess Mi Amore Cadenza was lookin’ good! So good that Rigel was feeling worryingly jealous of the good captain, and also kind of guilty – for multiple complicated philosophical reasons.

Firstly, make-up seemed like something a pony would not rationally use, being covered in fur and all. However despite common sense, the mares of Equestria either didn’t realise this, or they just couldn’t give a flying fuck.

Cadence had fixed her hair with a quick brushing and secured it with a quick spray of stylist-approved glue. She’d applied eye shadow and dark mascara, her lips were ruby red and there was a bit of a blush on her cheeks. She wasn’t dolled up ready to work the streets, but she wasn’t boring looking either.

Secondly, clothes weren’t often worn by ponies, only on special occasions – usually. And Cadence thought tonight was a special enough occasion to wear something. Though not something she might wear out on the street for the world to see.

Cadence was clad in what was clear to see lingerie. And speaking of clear, it was indeed mostly lacy and see-through. She wore a quad of light red tights dotted with embroidered hearts, vibrant red socks formed on the hooves. Her rear tights were connected to a garter belt by some lacy suspenders, and covering her body from the base of the spine up to her shoulder blades was some sort of corset. A fleecy choker wrapped around her neck, and completing the outfit was a very aesthetic looking silk saddle on her back.

To you a saddle might be an odd thing to wear as part of sexy bedroom attire. To Rigel it made an odd kind of sense. Considering there were no equestrians in Equestria, no native humans and all, ‘riders’ might refer to a stallion mounted atop a mare in pony culture. Hence the saddle implemented in Cadence’s lingerie, a kinky way of inviting her ‘rider’ to ‘mount’ her.

Rigel spent way too much of his spare time talking to the phantoms in the cultural studies department.

Mount his trusty Silver with the swiftness of a sex-depraved nymphomaniac was exactly what Shining Armour did the moment he laid eyes on her. When Cadence was satisfied she’d punished her lover enough for teasing her in the throne room, she unlocked the door with her magic. It swung open a little before Shining Armour’s mopey face peeked gingerly around. His ears were pinned back pathetically and his glistening eyes were wide and almost innocent looking.

As soon as he saw his wife though, that all changed. Though Rigel could hardly blame him the way she had sprawled herself across the bed. She was laid over on one side, half curled up, her legs stretched out to her side, presenting her rear end to the captain’s immediate gaze while smiling seductively with bedroom eyes back at him.

Hanging just outside, Rigel fired his camera a few times to take some stills, then switched the video when he saw the unicorn’s face change.

Shining Armour’s expression popped, complete with ‘popping’ sound. His ears stood erect, his eyes widened and his jaw clenched. Rigel tried not to imagine what else popped to life. Keeping the cam-rifle fixed on Cadence who was laughing now, Foxtrot-12 watched Shining Armour leap into the frame, his front legs immediately wrapping around the princess narrow waist and pulling her onto her rear hooves. He wasn’t even concerned with the fact the bedroom door still hung agape for any old pervert to peek in and get a nice show. He just held his giggling wife in place as he lined up for the kill.

And when his target was zeroed in perfectly, he sent it he charged at ramming speed. As he penetrated her in one swift movement, a small spray of liquid gushed between Cadence’s nether-lips clamped tight over her stallion’s member. At the same time Cadence’s eyes went wide, as did her mouth, a girlish little cry escaping her throat.

“Ohw~!” she whimpered with a hint of pain, the corners of her mouth turned upward none the less. Her little cry only served to excite the unicorn mounting her though.

With a hoof clamped hard on each of Cadence’s hips, Shining Armour forcefully pushed the princess forward and back as he rolled his hips, storming her snatch with thrust after thrust at a merciless rhythm. Cadence loved every moment of it, it seemed; smiling from ear to ear with her eyes gently shut and one half of her face pressed into the bed sheets. She just balanced lightly on her knees, allowing herself to rock back and forth on her husband’s command, simply enjoying the sensations ravaging her body as the male did all the work.

Typical woman, Rigel thought dryly with a joking smile. Common female mentality was clearly the same in any dimension.

It didn’t take long for things to suddenly get wet. Cadence helplessly pawed at the sheets with her front hooves as her brows arched high, eyes widened and mouth fell open like she was trying to swallow a rather large corndog whole.

Scooping up a mouthful of duvet, Cadence bit down hard as her spine curled into an unnatural arc. Her hips rocked back and forth in a twitchy motion as she muffled her high pitched cry into the bed’s mattress. At the same time Rigel spotted a small waterfall had formed between her legs, moisture clinging to Shining Armour’s nut-sack as it swung back and forth to slap his wife with every thrust, and a creamy little river pouring down the alicorn’s inner leg to form a stain on the bed sheets.

Since the situation had gotten quite dirty, Shining Armour seemed to suddenly get the idea to open his big dumb mouth and spout off some dirty talk. Rigel was already cringing when he saw the prince open his mouth to speak, knowing full well his employers would hate that. If there was one thing that spoiled porn, it was the male not knowing when to shut the fuck up.

However, it was what Shining Armour actually said that surprised Rigel.

“Take it in nice and deep you dirty little whorse,” the captain groaned. “You’re such a slut, aren’t you?”

Wondering if she’d heard that right, Cadence’s expression twitched from a big smile to a look of surprise. “Whuh?”

Rigel blinked with a little smirk. “Oh, dayumn,” he whispered, secretly praising that brave motherfucker. He’d just straight up called his wife, a princess and the embodiment of ‘love’ a dirty little whore. She was the princess of love damn it, not the princess of kinky, carnal desire – all evidence to the contrary.

And then as if he didn’t even give a fuck anymore, he blurted out, “oh, Twiley, you’re so buckin’ tight and wet, you’re gonna make big brother cu-…!”

He didn’t get to say much more before Cadence shot forward, pulling herself clear of her husband completely as she rounded on him with a shocked and angry; “what?”

Unfortunately she’d pulled herself clear at the exact wrong moment, and to make things worse had her head lowered just a little too much. For when she turned to demand an explanation concerning her husband’s taboo outburst, he busted on her face with a satisfied groan.

Rigel watched with his mouth agape, expression similar to Cadence’s… at least what he imagined was her expression somewhere under the glaze of sticky love juice that had blasted her. The phantom couldn’t move for a moment as a deadly silence settled over the bedroom. It only lasted a second, but it certainly felt like an eternity. Rigel quickly clicked the trigger of his cam-rifle and ducked under the windowsill as if looking for cover.

“Oh-ho-ho-ho. Oh, shit,” he laughed to himself sensing the trouble.

And as if to confirm his trouble-sense, the very foundations of the Crystal Palace were shaken by a princess’ royal voice.

“WHAT… THE… BUCK!!!”

For a dread moment Rigel thought the vibrations in the lintel would shake his nano-glove loose. Fortunately though, he stayed attached and alive to hear the sound of panicked hooves galloping over the bedroom floor, followed by the crashing of objects being thrown at Shining Armour’s head.

Snickering like a little boy who’d found his big brother’s porn stash, Foxtrot-12 quickly pinged his comms. “Uh… Phantom-actual, you got your ears on?”

“Phantom-two here,” a man’s voice replied in Libby’s stead. “I copy. Send message, Foxtrot-12. Over.”

“I’m going to disengage from Shining-Cadence observation a little earlier than expected, ‘kay?”

“Interrogative; please elaborate. Have you been compromised, over?”

“No. I just get the feeling I’m not going to be getting any more footage out of these two for the next couple of days.”

Rigel cleared his throat, wondering if he should pop up his head and take a look, just in case this was all part of some strange kinky role-play the princess and the captain were into. He thought the better of it at the sound of more things being thrown coupled with Shining Armour’s cries for mercy between his yelps of pain.

Feeling genuinely sorry for the captain, the phantom corrected his assessment. “Uh, make that months.” Letting his cam-rifle dangle by his side, Rigel started his slow descent. “I’m coming home. Tee-tee- wye-ell.”

[\ End Recording]