Chapters "That Paranoid Feeling" - Princess Celestia
“That Paranoid Feeling”
The heat was unbearable. And Celestia wasn’t exactly thinking about the summer sun hanging unobstructed by any clouds in the sky above Equestria.
The city of Canterlot sprawled out at the foot of the great palace was shimmering in the light. Ponies were wearing their sunglasses and the biggest most aired – and most fashionable of course – hats they could find. Ice cream parlours were making a killing, and ponies were desperately looking for ways to cool down.
Celestia was among the last group, though for other reasons. Normally she couldn’t care less about the burning sun. Having to reach out and touch it every time she raised or set it, one developed immunity to its rays. Celestia was more concerned with the small supernova igniting between her hind legs.
Walking through one of the marble corridors of the palace alone, she kept checking behind her to make sure there was nopony behind her to see the glistening snail-trail running down the fur on her inner thigh. She counted herself lucky she wasn’t surrounded by guards, advisers or other ponies. Even in the cool hallways of the palace it would have taken every ounce of skill and willpower for Celestia to fool ponies into thinking she was comfortable.
She took deep silent breaths and tweaked her magic to wipe away the sweat prickling her brow. Every so often she would pretend to stretch out a cramp or a chafe of her royal vestments. In reality she was trying to wiggle her rear, hoping some of the soft fur would brush her nether regions and give some semblance of relief.
Celestia eventually tightened her tail into her crotch as she let her eyes fall shut a little, peering through narrowed eyelids at the ground in front of her. Every step she took sent a little ripple through her legs and up her loins. The magical strands of her tail snaked up along her inner thigh, brushing higher and higher pausing only to massage in a small circle before rising further. The princess felt her breath shorten as she took another step. This time she could feel her nether-lips rub ever so slightly against each other. An electric jolt shot up her spine, causing her heart to flutter. Biting her bottom lip, the alicorn suppressed a moan.
The strands of her tail were close now, done with teasing. She manipulated the edges closer to her moist lips, rubbing slowly up and down the hidden slit vertically centred between her haunches. Right where the fur ended Celestia imagined a pink line was appearing as the swollen outer lips were gently parted by two magical strands of her tail.
Very slowly she reached out with a third, imagining it inching closer to the source of the fire burning between her flanks. Biting her lips a little harder she felt it, the soft edge like a rigid feather probing gently into the wet silky folds...
Jerking her eyes open as she realised she was letting out a shuddering sigh; Celestia quickly cleared her throat and glanced up and down the abandoned hallway. Her only company were the empty suits of ancient Royal Guard armour standing like vigilant decorative pieces of polished gunmetal. But despite her solitude she blushed hard, her pale cheeks turning as red as the apples harvested at Sweet Apple Acres. Her heart fluttered and her head felt light while the fur on her spine stood on end.
Her eyes shot up and down the hall to double check wither she really was alone. And even with nopony in sight, she held her breath. She couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched, like the decorative armours lining the corridor had invisible eyes peering through the empty slits in the helmet faceplates.
She was sure the sensation of being watched was just the usual paranoia that came with touching herself inappropriately – in a public place no less – but perhaps the middle of the hall was not the place for such a thing.
She rubbed her burning cheeks and tried to calm her heart. She wasn’t being watched. She kept telling herself that, and eventually found comfort in the thought. But it didn’t change the empty feeling within her and the intensifying fire burning between her thighs.
With a sigh she decided she needed some fresh air. Turning sharply, the alicorn princess quickly strode out onto the nearest balcony overlooking an open air courtyard below. But as she stepped out of the shade and into the direct sun she nearly regretted the action. A fresh wave of heat hit her like a solid, sticky wall.
Princess Celestia’s mane caught in the hot breeze wafting over the Royal Guard quarter training-yard. Below were a group of figures preparing to run an obstacle-course as the final part of their selection for the Royal Guard. Some of the pegasi were doing push-ups with their wings. The earth-ponies were stretching out their legs and shaking loose with the unicorns.
As she was watching them, Celestia bit her bottom lip again; trembling lightly while her tail rode up between her hind legs. Her eyes lingered on the tense bands of muscles flexing and relaxing. The beads of sweat dappling their young, energetic bodies…
Princess Celestia choked and shook out her tail at the same time. Whipping around, she looked across the balcony to make sure there was nopony standing behind her. Once again she had been hit by that paranoid feeling, like there were invisible eyes scanning up and down her slender heat-cursed body.
Once again, she was just being paranoid. The only company she had on the balcony were the rippling waves of heat distorting the air in places.
Breathing hard for a moment she noticed the tickle down her neck as the beads of sweat covering her own body turned to trails running down her sleek form. Clearing her throat gracefully the princess shook her tail out again as she looked to the clear blue sky. How she’d like to schedule some rain. Frigid rain would do her good. Unfortunately it was high summer. It might be a little out of place to order some pegasi to roll in the sleet.
Celestia sighed before curiously averting her gaze back to the Royal Guard recruits below. They were a little ragged looking in sweat-matted coats and manes, dirt and dust clinging to their fetlocks where they were warming up in the dry, sun-baked courtyard.
In comparison, they were like Celestia’s polar opposites. Perfectly groomed white coat, her summer-colour mane a neatly wavering aura of brilliance with the fringe falling seductively over her right eye; Celestia had a tall and proper stature compared to the recruits’ tired slouches. The alicorn was a shining example of beauty; perfect in every way. From her kind tone to her entrancing eyes and slender physique she should have been the wet dream of any stallion.
But she wasn’t. And part of that problem was her ‘perfect’ façade. It hindered her in times of desperate need. Days like today; when she was in heat.
Every year – give or take a few months – she would go through it. A whole month of torturous desire; an itch within her that refused to go away until scratched by a very specific appendage. What was most annoying was the randomness of those few months she had to give or take, so she couldn’t prepare herself. She would just wake up one morning and be in heat. One time she’d suddenly felt her insatiable libido engage in the middle of an overnight emergency summit with her neighbouring nations. It was like some kind of sadistic god was watching her and throwing the switch when she least expected it.
What made her heat all the more frustrating was the lack of means to combat it.
She could of course try to pleasure herself. She found when she was younger it helped. But when she was younger she didn’t have as many duties to attend to. Now and days her whole day was planned and scheduled. She had a great many things to attend to with few pauses in-between. But even if she could sneak away to masturbate, it would not make a great deal of difference. It would stave off her frustrations for a while, but it would not cure the itch.
What she needed was a male.
When it came to rutting Celestia had a few millennia of experiences; enough to fill at least two very large books. One did not live for an eternity and not have some sexual experiences to speak of. But in the past thousand years she noticed her encounters were becoming fewer and farther between.
Celestia used to ask stallions that took her fancy to ‘help’ her in her time of need. Unfortunately it became guaranteed that every encounter ended in tears… and crippling injuries. She needed an alicorn stallion.
Unfortunately there were none around. Not anymore anyway. I’d like to tell you Celestia rutted them into extinction, and as awesome as that would be – extinction aside – the actual story is actually kind of a downer; so maybe it’s a tale for another time.
She suddenly noticed a grinding noise, dragging the alicorn’s mind off-track.
Celestia’s eyes widened a little as she realised she was gnashing her teeth angrily. A common remedy to her heat, as it was all she could do in her frustration. Luckily nopony had quite associated her tooth-gnashing with her heat-cycle.
After about a thousand years of no longer having stallions visit her bedchambers, alicorn heat was the stuff of stories and legend. But that didn’t make it any less real.
The simple fact was that Celestia was bloody horny and she couldn’t do anything to deal with it; not for the time being anyway. She was on her way to a lunch meeting with the griffon ambassador. As it stood she was already late thanks to her stop off on the balcony.
Catching herself before any more naughty thoughts about the oblivious recruits below arose in her mind, Celestia tore her eyes away with a small smile.
“Enough distractions, I think.” The princess sighed as she spoke softly to herself. “Time to get to lunch. I’ve been looking forward to it all day after all.” That was an outright lie, and she wondered how many of her subjects would die of fright when they realised their princess was capable of such a despicable thing. Mind you, her subjects might do more than die of fright if they were aware of the other despicable tricks Celestia could do with her tongue alone.
Turning and leaving the balcony in a bit of a daze, she tried to force her mind to focus on her day’s schedule. But not because she was a princess and her duties were important to keep Equestria afloat. In truth she just wanted the day to be over with so she could run to the privacy of her bedroom and finally focus on that tickling between her thighs.
Though as she moved with stubborn focus blinding her, the princess didn’t notice the shimmering waves of heat silently stalk her into the cool palace halls…
[>> F-fwd >> F-fwd >> F-fwd >>]
Celestia ran like a mare possessed, a mixture of terror and panic clutching her heart. Her eyes were wide, her hot breaths short and rapid, sweat drooling like waterfalls down her matting white coat. She looked bedraggled, the edges of her magical mane and tail jagged and her brilliant coat standing on end in places. There were knots on her inner thigh with a glistening trail running up to the pink slit of flesh now visible between her legs.
Charging into her bedroom she slammed the door shut behind her, breathing easy as she heard the glorious click of the lock that followed a golden glow engulfing her horn. With a smile plastered on her face, the alicorn turned, shakily walking to where her bed lay sank into the centre of the chamber’s floor.
As she walked she was kicking off the golden slippers adorning her hooves. The front two fell loose as she struggled to kick off the rear ones. She shook her head, letting her tiara clattered noisily to the floor and her shaky magic struggled to undo the heavy gold vestment wrapped around her slender neck.
That was when she saw it. Her room had a balcony attached to it with a tall set of doors divided into several dozen small squares of glass.
Both doors hung open revealing Luna’s night sky beyond, the curtains shifting in the evening breeze.
Gasping at the sight of it while her necklace clattered to the floor beside her crown, the princess methodically ran over. Though, ‘hopped’ might be a better word to use as her rear left leg was still trying to kick off the last slipper.
It fell loose when she reached the balcony doors and golden light exploded from her horn. At the same time an identical light glowed around the doors, slamming them shut with a rattle of the panes of glass. With another violent tug she drew the curtains over the glass, bathing her room in darkness bar the glow from her horn. Manically she ran to her rooms only window and looked out, gaze darting left to right with a mixture of panic and suspicion dominating her expression. Another golden tug drew the curtains, nearly tearing the mounts from the wall.
As if sensing the complete darkness that followed, the candles around her room flickered to life bathing the room in a soft romantic light. Only then did Celestia dare let out a final breath of relief.
She was safe in the privacy of her room. The doors and windows were locked. The curtains were drawn. She was alone.
Finally , the paranoid sensation of invisible eyes watching her every heat-addled move that day had vanished. She was no longer in public. She could do what she wanted.
That thought caused a naughty smile to twist the alicorn’s delicate features. The thought excited her, but it may have excited her more if she had a young stallion she could do anything she wanted to. Still, her heart leapt into her throat with anticipation
Reaching her bed, her hooves sank into the silky sheets as she mounted the mattress and paced in a circle like a dog getting comfortable. But when she did lay down, she didn’t curl up ready to enjoy a sip of dessert wine in anticipation of Twilight Sparkle’s impending friendship report.
Laying on her side at first, she slowly rolled onto her back into the soft cushions dressing her bed; forelegs pulled up to her chest and hind legs spread out to her sides in quite possibly the most un-princess-like way to lie. Sprawled out she craned her neck, giggling at her own shamelessness. Innocently pressing one hoof against her lips, she let the other travel down along her chest, following the downward curve of her sternum down across her belly. Her whole body trembled as the heat between her legs doubled.
Curling her back as she sat up a little to get a better view of herself, her horn glowing to levitate several pillows under herself. Slouched comfortably across her bed the princess reached down with both forehooves and gently touched the hot mound of flesh swelling between her thighs. Her slit tingled at the touch as she gently tugged at the lips.
A wet smack filled her ears as she let her eyes fall shut, lightning bolts of chilly air knifing into her soft folds as she exposed the moist flesh to the cool air of her room. At the same time she felt the heat of a blazing hearth fire hit her in the face, all emanating from her groin.
Her head felt light as she for a moment drank in the overpowering musk rising from her crotch. It filled her senses, her lungs and only served to drive her arousal wild.
A soft squelch rose into the air with the heat as Celestia opened her eyes again. One of her hooves withdrew from her crotch, leaving a pink-toothed smile on her nether-lips to match the lusty grin on the alicorn’s face. Licking her lips she slowly lifted her hoof, narrowing the tender pink slit plainly visible between her glistening fur. A thin trail of slick juices clung to the fur covering her lower lips and dampened her hoof as she ran it gently over the exposed flesh between the swollen mounds.
Tiny little sparks of electric pleasure shot through her loins, following the path her hoof traced up along her slit; before at the top she pressed down hard. The pressure parted the lips with another moist smack as she gently massaged the soft nub of flesh just above her clenched opening. Quickly Celestia gulped down a mouthful of air and held her breath so she wouldn’t moan just yet. She didn’t want to release herself so soon. She had all evening; no need to rush.
As she was massaging with one hoof in trembling little circles, her other hoof rose to her mouth as she poked out her tongue. Eyes shut the pony gave her free hoof a long lick, slowly spreading a generous helping of saliva across the appendage. After her first pass she lowered her face a little and licked again, wetting the hoof more with each successive pass.
Satisfied her hoof was wet enough she looked down, her hoof down in her crotch gently parting her nether-lips open to one side. With gritted teeth and narrowed eyes the princess gently pressed the slick hoof wet with her saliva against the glistening nub of flesh just above the squirming and contracting opening that waited eagerly to be filled. As soon as her hoof made contact with the sensitive button her whole body twitched.
“Ah~!” Celestia’s eyelids slammed shut again as this time the breath she tried to hold exploded from her throat.
Under her soft moan was the creaking of the springs in her bed’s mattress bouncing as her hips involuntarily bucked against her slick hoof. The slick rubbing sensation only served to spike her pleasure, gathering an inferno in her loins.
As the fire within her began to build in intensity, Celestia fought for enough focus to gather her mane. The magical aura wavered up and tapered into a dull tip. Extending by her will’s command, the mane formed a tentacle-like appendage that snaked through the air like it had a mind of its own. Slithering down along the alicorn’s slender body, the rounded tip eventually whipped around and found its target, pausing for only a split second before diving in for the bullseye.
Celestia didn’t want it gentle. She didn’t want it tender. She liked it vigorous and rough. And the result of her mane penetrating her eager opening rocked her with enough force it caused her to bounce on her bed a little. A wet noise filled the air as she felt the appendage snake deeper with each thrust, wriggling in every direction to get snug and comfortable. Each little bit of progress parting her soft tunnel a little more to give way to the tentacle.
A squeal of delight escaped the princess’s lips as she rested her head back. Her whole body rocked back and forth with the mixture of her rubbing hoof and the back and forth thrusting of her faithful mane. Electric jolts shot up and down her delight racked body. The heat growing in her loins warmed her body through enough for a bright red blush to dominate the alicorn’s cheeks. Her horn glowed and spluttered with golden light as she started losing control. There was a star, another sun building up inside her, flaming, exploding and growing with every passing moment.
And then without warning, all the tingling stopped. The electric jolts ended. There was no more glow coming from her horn. Her mane had stopped moving. To Celestia the world had stopped spinning. Time was frozen. She wasn’t a princess anymore, she didn’t have subjects, Canterlot – Equestria even – didn’t exist. For those few milliseconds there was nothing.
Then there was a supernova erupting within her loins sending rippling explosions of pleasure shooting throughout her very being. At her height, every muscle in Celestia’s body seized up. Her spine arched and her eyes were screwed shut tight. Her teeth were clamped down hard as her subsequent twitching gave the illusion she was humping the air.
With each twitch was a wave of pleasure to go with a building pressure within her. She felt like she was swelling, growing and growing to the point she might explode. So when she finally regained control over her own body, she unclenched everything she could and unplugged herself. With a pop the tentacle-like sliver of her mane slipped out of her. The hot, slick, velvety walls within her collapsed in on themselves in the magical aura’s absence. Princess Celestia’s mouth fell open and as a long moan of joy escaped her throat, so did a jet of milky liquid squirting from the velvety folds between her legs.
The hot juices hit the bed-sheets and clung like napalm, almost immediately igniting into little blue flames on impact. But in her afterglow Celestia didn’t seem to notice the flames. She just lay there immobile, her head settled back in a pool of colours that was her mane, chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath, hazy eyes and a satisfied smile fixed on the room’s ceiling.
But across the room a distortion in the air did notice the princess’ napalm discharge and recoiled with shock.
“Jesus Christ!” a voice cried justifiably distressed in the darkness. A male voice. A voice the princess had never heard before.
A voice that caused Princess Celestia’s heart to stop.
Coughing with surprise – and pounding her chest a few times with her front hooves to get her heart to start again – Celestia lifted her head in an instant. The afterglow was gone, she was instantly invigorated and the worry of when the next wave of her heat would begin to bother her again was far from her thoughts. She sprang up, sitting to springy attention like a jack-in-the-box.
Her panicked eyes were scanning the room for the source of the voice. It was impossible to think a pony had invaded her privacy. She was a princess! And alicorn! A being of purity and innocence! Any pony would have the sense of knocking before barging in. But nopony would be able to just barge into a locked room! Celestia’s bedroom had been locked down tight. It had been her sanctuary of debauchery.
So who had spoken?
Her eyes told her: nopony.
There was literally nothing to be seen. No pony standing stunned having watched their princess pleasure herself. No intruder of any kind. Just the wavering curtains as the hot shimmering evening breeze wafted in through the open balcony doors…
The balcony doors, Celestia’s mind screamed as she leapt from her bed and galloped across the room. She had slammed those shut and locked them. She was sure of it. And if anypony had performed a lock-picking spell on it the wards on the princess’ room would have gone mad, filling the air with lightning bolts and wailing alarms.
Skidding out onto the balcony, Celestia looked left and right for any signs of the intruder. She saw none, just the lingering shimmers of heat hanging in the warm evening air. For a second she was terrified perhaps Luna had barged into her room, but that theory was quickly quelled when Celestia heard feathers rippling in the air.
Looking up, the princess of the sun watched a dark alicorn land on her private balcony with a smile, her teeth shining like the pale moon. Princess Luna was much like her older sister, though shorter than Celestia with a dark night-sky coat, maintained the slender build common in the alicorn regal family.
“Celestia?” Luna asked obliviously. “You look distressed. Is everything alright?”
Celestia swallowed with a light gulp, realising it couldn’t have possibly been Luna who had cried out moments ago. Besides, that voice had been male.
Or, perhaps it had been Celestia’s imagination and paranoia striking up again. In her haste she may have neglected to close the balcony doors properly and they could have just blown open during her furious session.
Nodding with a slow sigh, Celestia quickly faked a warm smile. “Yes, I’m fine, Luna. I… I just spooked myself is all.”
Frowning, the younger princess slowly nodded back. “Very well. We are sure it was nothing to be conce-…” Luna suddenly sniffed before looking up curiously. “Do you smell smoke, sister?”
Celestia’s eyes bugged as she realised she’d forgotten something rather important on her bed.
[>> F-fwd >> F-fwd >> F-fwd >>]
“Damn, Foxtrot-twelve. That was way too close for comfort. You are one lucky son-of-a-bitch, you know that? Over.”
“Yeah, no shit. Gimme a sec to force my heart back down my throat and I’ll get moving. ETA to extraction, thirty minutes… uh, over.”
“Solid copy, Foxtrot-twelve. Look forward to seeing the peeps you nabbed.”
“Pervert.”
“Heh. Foxtrot-actual, out.”
[\ End Recording]
PseudoFiction presents… A non-canon MLP: FiM fanfic…
PHANTOMS
This story was created for non-profitentertainment purposes. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, original characters, settings, designs and themes © to Hasbro and the Respective Owners. Please support the official release.
"Meet Foxtrot-12" - Random
“Meet Foxtrot-12”
The thud of his boots hitting the balcony floor below Princess Celestia’s lookout over all of Equestria was muffled slightly as he curled into a ball and rolled with the impact. But stealth wasn’t really at the forefront of Foxtrot-12’s thoughts. He just didn’t want to break his legs.
Landing on his feet –missing a stride as he stumbled for balance – Foxtrot-12’s cloak was nearly thrown off his shoulders. The hood fell back revealing his head, though nothing of his face was given away thanks to a baseball cap and a sandy-coloured keffiyeh pulled up over the bottom of his face. Eyes concealed behind a pair of goggles, he had an ear-muff with a build in communication earpiece covering the right ear with a little mic suspended on an arm hovering in front of his mask.
Revealed under his cloak was a pale shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows for some reprieve from the summer heat, with coyote coloured trousers, the ends covering the tops of his brown hiking boots. Over Foxtrot-12’s knees were a pair of hardened pads riveted into his pants, and covering his abdomen was a sandy-coloured chest rig home to a plethora of pouches wrapping right around his waist.
Straightening up, the human chuckled relieved with an upward glance to the balcony he’d leapt from out of desperation. Avoiding the gaze of one princess was easy, especially with an invisibility cloak. But when Princess Luna had joined the ‘garden party’ gathering on Celestia’s bedroom balcony Foxtrot-12 had grown a little desperate to escape. Desperate enough to risk broken bones. Though, as per usual he’d been lucky.
Shrugging the long liquid-silver cloak draped over his shoulders a little higher, he quickly pulled open the door keeping him out of the palace and slipped inside. He still had to descend several stories to reach extraction on the other side of the Canterlot Gardens. And there wasn’t a chance in hell he was going to see if he was lucky enough to survive a hundred foot drop.
Foxtrot-12 liked to walk the fine line between lucky and stupid.
[>> F-fwd >> F-fwd >> F-fwd >>]
Following his nose, the cloaked human moved quietly through the empty palace halls, the soft soles of his super-sneaky boots only squeaking on the polished marble floor every so often. And yes, you did read that correctly. Foxtrot-12 had super-sneaky shoes… and he was following his nose.
Every so often he’d pause and sniff the air through his scarf to follow the faint scent of sizzling hay and baking bread. It was his navigation marker to the exit. Following the scent he’d find his way to the service stairway leading down to the palace kitchens and out the back across the gardens. Simple.
At least, in his mind it was. Execution on the other hand…
Freezing with a light squeak of his shoe-soles on the floor, Foxtrot-12 looked down the hall to see a bunch of shadows cast by an oil lap curl around the corner. Three royal guardsponies at the looks of the silhouettes. Stepping back, Foxtrot-12 turned to search for an escape. Unfortunately his ears caught the sound of marching armour-clad hooves coming up behind him as well. He was boxed in.
“Aw, crap,” was all he could whisper for a moment.
But that didn’t mean the human was screwed. Tugging a handheld device from the pouch strapped to his right thigh, Foxtrot-12 ducked to the side of the hallway. Pressing himself tight against the wall and sliding into a crouch, the human caught the edge of his cloak and pulled it over his head, draping the mercury fabric over himself.
In an instant Foxtrot-12 disappeared… well, sort off.
First he was there, a silver blob of fabric backed up against a wall. Then with an electrical shimmer running over the surface of his cloak, he vanished inch by inch. Part magic, part technology, the light-bending camouflage cloak was covered in micro-reflectors that bent the light around it. As a result Foxtrot-12 appeared to vanish to the casual eye – forgive the oxymoron. He was no more than a shimmer of light easily mistaken for a heat distortion rippling in the air.
Keeping the handheld device against his chest – aimed outward – the human peered like a witness peering through a one way mirror at a criminal line-up. On the outside light was being bent around the cloak, but on the inside it was like looking through smoked glass. It was good enough to clearly see six stark white pegasus ponies in heavy golden armour march past.
Three went one way, three equally stoic creatures marched the other.
Holding his breath, Foxtrot-12 flexed a finger over a trigger…
With a silent whir, the handycam held in his hand began to record through the invisibility cloak, taking in and processing the images of armoured ponies marching past in high definition. Foxtrot-12 imagines the audio would be crap and the image would be a little dulled since the camera was recording through the fabric, but once cleaned up a little, the short video of the guards marching past would make for great filler-footage.
When the guardsponies had moved on down the hallway both ways, Foxtrot-12 dropped the edge of his invisibility cloak and stood again. Closing down his handycam, the device was stuffed back into its holster as the human tried to follow his nose to the exit again.
He was stopped again, only this time by a different sound.
“Ooooh~!” came the muffled feminine moan, directly to his left.
Freezing with a cocked eyebrow, Foxtrot-12 was pretty sure he recognised the type of moan, and looking sideways at the closet door it had come from he became all the more sure of what the source was.
Noticing the broom closet was off the latch, Foxtrot-12 gently pushed it open, blinking away multi-coloured spots as the burning light from inside spilled onto the human’s masked face. His goggles smoked over, cutting some of the harshness of the light glowing from a unicorn’s horn.
Pushing the door open a little more Foxtrot-12 swallowed hard as he got a good view of what was going on inside.
A royal guard lay on his back, head pitched back and staring at the ceiling. He was sprawled over carton boxes filled with detergent bottles and upturned buckets serving as a makeshift bed. Straddled on top of him was a mare. Scattered around them a mixture of discarded garb, from shards of golden armour to a light red robe.
The mare perched atop the stallion was facing Foxtrot-12, her eyes closed and mouth hanging open a little. She was a unicorn – possibly the best example of one in Equestria – her horn glowing golden light that filled the cupboard. She had a curvaceous, lean figure not unlike that of the alicorn princesses. Her long blonde mane fell over one side of her face further blocking the human spying on them from view should she open her eyes.
With her head half turned back to her lover laying paralysed beneath her, the mare slowly lifted herself up, slick juices glistening on the guardspony’s meaty shaft still half buried in the unicorn’s snatch. And with an almost tired sigh she dropped down again. As the royal guard was slammed vigorously into her again his hips bucked on automatic, burying the head a little deeper inside the tight mare.
They paused, both twitching for a moment before the mare repeated the laborious motions of slowly lifting herself up along the stallion’s thick shaft to the point of the head popping out; then dropping down to slam him in deep again – trapped in a seemingly endless cycle of groans and thrusts.
With a quiet sigh the human visibly slouched and rolled his eyes behind his goggles. It was all just work-work-work. It never seemed to end in Canterlot palace. And speaking of working…
Reaching down, Foxtrot-12 reached for a device hanging by his side. If his handycam was his secondary weapon, his digital SLR could best be described as his primary.
Holding the camera up to his face, he kept it steady with a grip on the lens and his index finger showing all the trigger-discipline as if he were handling a high powered rifle. Peering through the shutter, he lined up a few shots, the camera held sideways for a portrait, and pressed the shutter to focus and take pictures of the oblivious ponies.
The shutter opened and closed silently several times, quickly recording what the lens was seeing to a high capacity SD-card for future perusing by Foxtrot-12’s employers… or his fellow employees. Whoever got their grubby mitts on it first.
Satisfied a dozen pictures were enough, Foxtrot-12 lowered the camera and slowly backed away, the closet door falling shut again with a whisper-quiet ‘snik .’
[>> F-fwd >> F-fwd >> F-fwd >>]
On a balcony overlooking the royal gardens the duo were alone. One stark white pegasus pony stallion of the Sol Guard and one bat pony mare of the Lunar Guard. The stallion was like any other pegasus of the royal guard. But the mare was something different.
A bat pony, she had a tufted triangular ears and an almost wolfish muzzle filled with pointy looking teeth. Her large amber eyes were divided down the middle by vertical diamond shaped pupils, and she had a pair of black bat-like wings instead of the traditional feathered wings of a regular pegasus. Her dark lavender mane and tail were short and tousled, looking like she’d only just gotten out of bed.
While the Sol Guard was sitting back, resting his forehooves behind him, the Lunar Guard was hunched forward with her head bobbing in the stallion’s crotch.
Her mouth was stretched open to take his girth in, jaw seemingly unhinged like a snake gulping down a prize. And while we’re on the subject of gulping, with her eyes pleasantly shut she slowly dragged her glistening lips up and down along the shaft. How she managed none could say, but her tongue slipped out from behind her bottom lip, the soft surface cradling and raking along the bottom of the stallion’s meat.
She would lift her head a little until she just had the flared head captured tightly in her lips, cheeks hollowing as she suckled with her tongue swirling all the way around. Then she would deftly slide her lips and tongue down the shaft until she gagged lightly with the head constricting into the back of her throat. All the while she somehow neglected to pause for a breather, or to swallow for that matter, pools of her warm, slick saliva drooling into the stallion’s lap.
Her relentless bobbing continued at a stealthy rhythm – up to the tip, swirl the tongue, then back down and deep-throat the stallion as best as she could. Right up until the point she felt him twitch in her mouth. That first twitch drew a smile across her muzzle despite how full her mouth was.
A second twitch followed by a swelling – pulling up the bat pony mare let the saliva drenched head pop from her lips before she seductively swirled her tongue over the top. The stallion was groaning, clenching his teeth as his partner ran her tongue up and down the swelling shaft, letting his soaked meat slide across the side of her face as she practically worshipped the thing.
With the final twitch and swell there was a sudden explosion rom the stallion’s flared tip. A gushing geyser of pearl white that caused the bat pony to flinch. But she didn’t pull away completely. Suddenly realising what was happening she seemed to embrace it, tipping her head back with narrowed eyes and her mouth open as far as it would go.
Thick ropes of white ooze strung themselves across her face. Several large drops met their mark along the roof of her mouth and across her tongue. Stray shots trailed white tracks over her nose, across her muzzle and her right eyelid. Several pearls finally dappled the bat pony’s fizzy mane as she closed her mouth into a satisfied grin, gulping loudly.
Foxtrot-12 could only blink in his stunned state, the sight causing a twitch in his pants. That was both interesting and worrying.
Sitting in a tree adjacent to the ‘private’ balcony where the night and day guardsponies were enjoying each other’s company, Foxtrot-12’s daze through the sniper-like magnification on his handycam didn’t last much longer. A twitter caught the human’s attention and averting his gaze from the bat pony facial of gooey proportions, Foxtrot-12 saw a small blue bird in a nearby nest.
“Hello, birdy,” Foxtrot-12 chirped in a friendly whisper as he turned his camera to record the bird hopping about the nest.
However at the glint of the lens, the blue-feathered avian let out a screech easily associated with a war-cry before the momma-bird straight up charged. Leaping from the nest, she slammed right into the human’s face, proceeding the violently peck at his goggles.
“Holy, shit!” Foxtrot-12 cursed as he rocked backwards, losing his balance. “Not the face. Not the face!”
Momma-bird hovered on the spot as the human intruder slipped out of the tree completely and hit the ground far below with a sickening thud.
“Ack...! My organs…”
[>> F-fwd >> F-fwd >> F-fwd >>]
Climbing to his feet, Foxtrot-12 found himself on the razor’s edge. A little literally. On one side of the palace garden wall upon which he was perched were the royal Canterlot gardens leading back to the palace. To the other side the whole word seemed to drop away for eternity down the mountainside against which Canterlot was slapped.
Looking from the long climb down the mountainside that served as his extraction route, Foxtrot-12 turned his gaze once more back to the Canterlot palace. It was an awesome sight.
Framed by the mountain’s peak under a glistening sky smeared with the watercolours of an aurora borealis rippling one way and another like a lazy ocean lapping the shore, the palace looked abandoned but inhabited at the same time. From this range Foxtrot-12 couldn’t quite see any solid signs of life, but at the same time he was told the place was alive with activity thanks to the lights burning in the windows flashing like fairy-lights.
With a grin the human steadied his stance and levelled his SLR camera to take a snap. Satisfied he had a nice panorama shot with a quick scroll back through the gallery of pictures he’d taken that evening; Foxtrot-12 figured the day wasn’t a complete artistic waste. He had at least a gigabyte of smut and useless stock footage loading his cameras.
But he had one nice picture for his portfolio.
[\ End Recording]
View Online
"Operator as &!#@" - Captain Shining Armour / Princess Cadence
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 &!#@”
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]
"Mane-iacal" - The Mane-iac
“Mane-iacal”
Foxtrot-12 snickered into his cam-rifle’s stock, the viewfinder flashing to black with every picture he clicked.
Far below where the human sat perched in the old shampoo factory’s rafters lay a squirming mess of azure mare, purple super-villain costume and bright green fluff. Surrounding her were minions, stylish looking stallions with large hair-brushes trying to untangle the Mane-iac out of her own mane.
Her fight with the Power Ponies and the new, improved Humdrum had left the Mane-iac’s operation completely crippled. Her doomsday device was ruined. Her mane had been turned against her. And Rigel had captured all of it in glorious high-definition.
The phantom had recorded the whole thing from concealed vantage points all over the derelict factory, assisted by well-placed shadows and a telescopic lens that screwed onto his cam-rifle like a flash-hider. His job was almost done. He’d likely wait for everypony to leave so he could extract and head home to deliver his hard drives and chalk up another mission successful. But was there every any doubt to his awesomeness and operation completing prowess?
Hidden up in the rafters, the total darkness above the lights was enough to completely conceal Rigel without the need for his invisibility cloak. He’d turned off the display lights on all his equipment, making him a mere fleeting shadow traversing between the iron support beams as he sought out new angles to take more dynamic pictures from.
“Get off me!” the Mane-iac started shouting as her minions managed to untangle some of the mane cocooning her. “Get off!”
The villain-ess managed to free her legs from the ensnarement of her own mane and righted herself before whipping at her henchponies with the tendrils of green hair. Each whipping motion let out a crack which was followed by several yelps as the minions dropped their brushes and scattered like roaches routed out of a nest.
“Mistress, are you hurt-...” a buff looking stallion in a polo-neck and a sweet set of sideburns tried to say, but was interrupted by a whip of mane pecking him across the nose.
“Out!” the Mane-iac yelled, her voice cracking as if she was on the verge of tears.
“But mistress-...”
The villain snapped, her whole expression twisting into a manic rage. “I said OOOUUUUUTT!!!” she screamed, running her minions right out of the abandoned factory.
As the group of henchponies scattered out the doors, one dared to skid to a halt and look over his shoulder.
“Uh... can we at least get our last paycheque?” he asked.
‘CRACK ,’ a tendril of the Mane-iac’s mane whipped him across the flank sending him running, squealing like a nervous filly.
“And stay out!” the villain called after him before she galloped over and grabbed both the sliding doors with her mane. With a deafening crash ringing throughout the shampoo factory the doors slammed shut, isolating the Mane-iac from the chilly Maretropolis evening air.
Rigel hung his cam-rifle in its sling and climbed around one of the diagonal support beams holding up the rafters. Hopping into a better vantage point he slid the devise to his front and hung over an adjacent steel beam, peering down on the Mane-iac like Batman stalking prey.
The villain took a deep breath as she wandered around the wrecked factory. Bits of her doomsday device lay everywhere. Shattered remnants of her shattered dreams. As she wandered on the power of her legs, the soles of her boots clicking on the stone floor, her mane seemed to take a mind of its own.
The Mane-iac’s own hair seemed to try and get out of her way. The tendrils snaked from side to side, gathering by her sides and around the back of her head so not to catch her attention. As if they knew she was somehow blaming her mane and tail for the failure to put an end to the Power Ponies. It was only one tendril of her mane that wasn’t as smart as the others.
In slithered down along her cheek and timidly brushed up against her lips like a sad puppy trying to win his angry master’s favour. And it seemed to be succeeding as the Mane-iac’s stern expression softened at the attempts.
As Foxtrot-12 watched the mare un-tense, the rest of her hair seemed to relax a little too.
“Oh, don’t worry my babies. Momma’s not mad,” Mane-iac said soothingly, gently petting the timid lock of hair. “There-there. It’s alright. Momma’s not mad at you.”
Her bangs shuddered with joy at the contact... until the Mane-iac wrapped both hooves around the tentacle of hair, wringing the life right out of it.
“I’m furious!” she whispered dangerously with crazy eyes as the lock of her mane went limp. “I had them! The Power Ponies were in my grasp. And who destroys all my plans? Humdrum! HUMDRUM!
“It’s all over,” she continued to say tossing the limp hair to one side as the rest of her mane attempted to cower from the mare. “How can I show my face at the next villain poker game? I’ll be the laughing stock of the villain community!”
As the Mane-iac trotted to where a lonely, patchy and worn down old couch sat, she started shedding. Not fur or hair, but clothes. Her boots first, zipped down the inner calves and kicked either to her sides or behind her. The body suit was next, ripped down the front where her cleavage would be if she were human or anthropomorphic. Rigel imagined a video of an anthro-Mane-iac would rake in the big dolla’-bills. Unfortunately he had to work with what he was given and snapped a few shots as the spandex came off with some wriggling and was quickly abandoned.
“Oh, woe is me,” the mare groaned as she collapsed on the couch sobbing frantically.
Like everything about her, even her sobs of dismay sounded maniacal.
As she lay there dramatically like a hussy on her back with her legs lazily spread, one hoof rubbing away the headache pounding in her head, her mane gingerly curled in to check on its mistress. The first few tendrils slowly snaked up along her ribcage, prodding and poking, trying to tickle a laugh out of her before they irritably slapped away by the Mane-iac’s hoofes.
Another set of hair tentacles snatched up an old newspaper and unfurled the funnies in front of her face. But catching a headline about her previously failed plans, the Mane-iac grimaced.
With a violent swipe she tore the newspaper apart and tossed the confetti to one side. but despite her actions she sighed and managed a little smile.
“Thank you girls, but I’m just too sad to laugh,” she sighed deeply.
The tentacles of mane twisted and turned as if glancing and delegating among themselves, before one tendril made a shrugging motion and snaked down through the air to the lower parts of her body. Slithering like a snake with a mission across her belly where a normal horse’s milk-jugs would be, the tendril found the mare’s honey-pot. A smooth unimportant looking little mound between her legs, like any pony mare it seemed she didn’t have genitalia at all.
But once the tendril of the Mane-iac’s hair started working, a soft pink line started to form in the fur. The mound swelled a little as the hair began to excite her nether-senses. The mare’s eyes fell shut and her lips parted to huff out a hot, misty breath. Rigel just blinked and watched the marehood between her legs swell further, pronouncing the thin line of exposed flesh as the lips began to part on their own accord, readying for a bit of intercourse.
Further readying its mistress, the bold tendril of hairs brushed it’s feathery tip up along the pink line before delving between the soft folds to find a precious little pink pearl hidden within.
“Oooh~!” a wavering moan rose from the Mane-iac’s throat as the corners of her mouth turned upward. “But clearly I’m not too sad to moan,” she giggled furiously.
Perking up a bit, the other tendrils of hair dove in upon realising how they could turn their mistress’ frown upside down. Some of the shyer ones gently slid down her sides and massaged her flanks. Another joined the first by her slit, gently massaging the outer lips as the other teased her clit. Another looped around her haunches and began to play with the puckered little winking eye barely a centimetre below the base of her slit.
Rigel paused what he was doing, aiming his cam-rifle lens at a blank wall. He was on a fluff-op. That meant he was supposed to get footage of random ponies doing random stuff. He didn’t have to get pictures of this per-se. But his bosses did pay him extra for any peeps he raked in.
Every man has a little bit of a pirate in him. And right there and then, Rigel let the pirate in him loose. What harm would it do anyway? It wasn’t like the Mane-iac was going to care so long as the human remained incognito. He’d get a little extra for his piggy-bank and she would go on living blissfully ignorant of fanboys perverting over her pictures a dimension away.
Everybody was a winner... actually, the Mane-iac didn’t really win anything, but she was a villain so Rigel wasn’t very inclined to give any fucks anyway. Now had she been one of the Power Ponies the human would have hesitated. But only until his inner pirate overwhelmed his conscience.
Tagging the Mane-iac in a few more stills, Rigel eventually switched to video. Smoothly making his way across the rafters to get a better angle, the human held on tight as he hung over the top of a light, zooming down on the Mane-iac giving the lens full disclosure .
Through the viewfinder, Rigel watched as the Mane-iac’s hair raked further along her inner thigh and teased at the lips swelling under the damp, matted fur glistening in the light to betray her excitement. A single tendril slowly hooked over and parted the lips tenderly down the middle, letting out a little smack as her marehood was peeled open on one side. Revealed inside, the pink flesh desperate for attention clashed with her dark coat.
One of the tentacles wasn’t sure what to do at all. It hung in the air glancing between the flanks, vagina and anus wondering where it could do the most good. However, it never did get to make up it’s mind before a hoof snatched hold of it.
Brought up to face its mistress, the tendril came face-to-face with the Mane-iac’s wild eyes and a smile of pure madness. She barely gave the tentacle any time to struggle before she stuck out her tongue and planted it against the mane just above where her hooves held it still. The tentacle twitched and struggled before suddenly turning rigid as the mare slowly and sensually dragged her broad tongue up along the bottom. Her eyes fell shut as she reached the top and with a moan pitched her head forward, engulfing the tendril in her mouth like it was a piece of delicious candy. Then like a filly suckling on a sweet ice-lolly, she worked her hooves back and forth, pumping the flustered tendril of her living mane in and out of her mouth, the smooth surface gliding over her slick, moist lips.
The mane seemed to understand what was happening. They’d obviously done this before and the tentacles recognised that when the Mane-iac started suckling, it was time for the ‘mane’ event. Rigel would have cackled at that thought were it not such a terrible pun used so often by the villain he was in the process of exploiting.
The Mane-iac opened her eyes as she felt one of the tendrils slide down through the small pool of moisture forming at her aching opening. Lips peeled apart by a pair of helpful tentacles, the one feathering the little plump lump of pink flesh coiled and pressed hard on the button. It must have sent some eclectic jolts of pleasure through her body as she twitched hard, groaning through the tendril filling her mouth – the tentacle beginning to work its way in and out of her mouth on it’s own accord. Staring at the ceiling one of the Mane-iac’s hooves gripped the cushions beneath her, the other wrapping as best as it could over the arm-rest she used as a head-rest.
The free tendril that had lubed itself up on the excitement dripping from her winking opening gathered up the feathered point and like a drill trying to find purchase poked into the silky folds aching for attention. A psychotic twitch of joy formed in the mare’s right eyelid as she began convulsing, bucking her hips pleadingly. The tendril twisted and curled, tickling and agonising her opening…
Before with a wet squelch loud enough for even Rigel to hear, the tentacle penetrated. The Mane-iac’s scream of pleasure was muffled like all those moans and filly-like squeals before. The tentacle wasted no time, assaulting her pussy mercilessly, pounding vigorous with seemingly infinite stamina and showing no signs of slowing. At the same time the tendril at her anus just about fitted in through the clenched hole, essentially plugging her last fuckable orifice (sorry, guys. Ears and nostrils don’t count).
Working much gentler than the tendrils assaulting both front ends, the rear-guard gently snaked into her ass with only a few strands, just enough to massage the muscles within.
The Mane-iac’s eyes rolled into the tops of her eye sockets, sickly green irises only just visible on her gaze of pleasure. She lost control over her expression, mouth falling open a little to let a wave of drool trickle from her lips down the side of her face.
Then it hit. An explosion. Her little internal villain had planted explosives and with no heroes around to save the day,t hey’d gone off. The dam had been breached, and the reservoir waters surged with ferocity and ruin.
Her mouth opened wide enough for the exhausted tendril stuffing her cake-hole to fall out soaked and limp. With it came a feral cry of joy, coupled with maniacal laughter, the volume of which twitched and wavered with every unpredictable kick and jolt of her body. The tendril in her ass froze whiel the one in her snatch was literally launched out on a gushing geyser of juices that soaked the couch’s opposite arm-rest.
As the height of her orgasm passed through, Rigel was side tracked by her eyes. Crazy looking disks of glowing green, they were wide open and looking straight up at him. Right into the shadows, through his mask and into his face.
Not realising her stare was absent by the mind numbing senses electrifying her body, Rigel panicked and with his free hand darted for the invisibility cloak stuffed into one of the larger pouches on his belt. Unfortunately that was when Rigel realised he didn’t actually have a free hand. One was holding his cam-rifle. The other was holding on to a rafter so he wouldn’t lose balance.
Cam-rifle still held tight in the grip of one hand, the other now holding on to a pouch on his belt, Rigel found himself leaning forward at an insane angle. He swung his arms and legs as he felt the solid rafter under his boots float away. And before he knew it he was falling out of the shadows, plummeting in free fall to the floor far below him.
His eyes clamped shut, preferring not to see the ground come racing up to meet him.
If he had time to react he would have screamed like a little girl. He had every right to. It was maybe not the most graceful way to go, but Rigel wasn’t ready to go dammit! At the very least he should have been allowed to express his malcontent with the method of his early passing.
And then he hit. Only the ground wasn’t hard and deathly as he expected it to be. Instead of feeling his head split open like a ripe melon, he landed on something pillowy. The ground beneath him was soft and spongy… and worryingly ropey.
A fresh pang of terror hitting him, Rigel forced his eyes open. All he saw for a moment was green. Green hair .
Rigel’s stomach sank as he suddenly wished he had fallen to his death. “Fuck my life.”
The web of green hair that caught him from his plummet to his doom started to shrink. The ends coiled up and over the human and, despite his writhing, constricted around his arms and legs. Another slipped round his waist holding him firmly in place. Another curiously lashed over the phantom’s masked face, flicking up the pique of his cap and lifting it off his head. Behind his goggles his eyes twitched, but he kept his glare fixed on the owner of the hair.
As she held him up with her crazy tentacle mane, the Mane-iac had risen from her love-stained nest and was walking closer to the helpless young man. As she approached, her hooves clicked sharply with her slow supermodel-style strut – one hoof in front of the other with an exaggerated sway of her smooth flanks and elegant shoulders. Her mascara laden eyes were half shut, fluttering her long lashes as she got closer.
“Well-well-well!” the mare giggled a feverishly. All of her concerns about being the laughing stock of the villain community seemed to have vanished with the passing of her orgasm. What filled her eyes wasn’t even satisfaction from her special private time with her ‘girls.’
Her eyes were smouldering with lust. With anticipation of what she was about to do to the little fly trapped in her web.
“It looks like you couldn’t quite get the drop on me, Shutterbug,” the Mane-iac cackled huskily. “It has been a while since we did battle.”
Rigel frowned. Who the hell did she think he was – and as much as he wanted to cry that out in a much overused anime reference, he resisted the urge. Besides, this mare was nutty. She was probably just making stuff up on the fly.
Looking through him as if she wasn’t really seeing the alien creature she was supposed to be seeing the human for, the Mane-iac leaned in close to Foxtrot-12. She was so close he could feel her hot breath through the scarf covering his face. She smelled strongly of apple scented shampoo. So strongly it made Rigel’s head spin. Mind you, that wasn’t her only aspect making his head spin.
One strand of her mane raked down over the side of his face, caressing his cheek through the keffiyeh. At the same time she whispered, “it’s also been a while since I did battle with a stallion .”
Rigel blinked a few times unable to answer at first. “You do realise I’m not actually a pony but an alien monster... right?”
She outright ignored him.
Lowering the human to the ground, the Mane-iac’s hair held Rigel down as she crawled on top of him. The weight of her hips pinned down his pelvis before she pressed her chest down on him, sliding up along the pouches on his vest. There was even a distinct friction in his shorts as he felt her angle her hips forward, rubbing her crotch over his.
“W-what are you doing?” Rigel whimpered with a gulp, his eyes bugging to dominate the space behind his goggles. “Aren’t you supposed to tell me all about your evil plan giving me ample time to escape?”
“I’ve learned from my mistakes. My evil plan is a secret.” She giggled at some kind of unspoken joke only she would get. “Secret, but fun.”
“I don’t need to know about your secret butt-fun, thanks.”
The Mane-iac stuck out her bottom lip in a very cute – and very fake - pout, pressing her crotch harder against the front of Rigel’s trousers as she started rhythmically rubbing up and down. “But we’re going to have lots of secret butt-fun, Shutterbug,” she whined softly.
The magic words Twelve really didn’t want to hear.
As she was rubbing up against him, Rigel was suddenly aware that at the most of time the Mane-iac was wearing a costume. And it was because of that he became especially conscious that her costume still lay in a pile halfway across the lair. That she was very much naked and beginning to generate a wet patch on is favourite trousers.
“Doesn’t that sound nice, Shutterbug?” she cooed softly with tendrils of her tail grasping the zipper on his fly. “Hmmm, Shutterbug? Shutterbug...? ”
Rigel squeezed his eyes shut as he heard his pants were unzipped. Her voice started fading. It warped, changing, sounding hollowed and more distant like she was walking away down a long tunnel.
“Shutterbug... Shutter-... –trot-... –elve! Twelve!” And then suddenly she sounded like she was shouting in his ear.
“Rigel, are you listening to me!?”
Realising where he was and what he was doing in the real world, Rigel darted forward, throwing his whole body on top of his cluttered desk to cover his notepad.
The dream-world had fizzled out all around him. The Mane-iac’s lair changed dramatically, from a cavernous trap-littered shampoo factory to a small five-by-five block home to a cot, a desk and a wall mounted TV screen. The bare walls were decorated with a series of ‘panoramas’; photographs depicting endless Equestria landscapes, and ‘fluffs’; artsy composite shots of ponies going about their normal day to day business. He had some ‘sexier’ snaps of some of Equestria’s more famous mares compiled into a company calendar beside his door. Between the photos were some ‘Power Ponies’ posters to go with the comic books stacked beside the bed and under his pillow.
Rigel had been sitting at his desk since nine-o’clock that morning. It was Sunday going by Earth Greenwich-Mean-Time, meaning he had the day off. And he’d spent the day writing in his notebook labelled:
The Adventures of the Most Awesomest Phantom Ever!
Judging by his watch it was coming up on dinner-time.
As the lair had changed completely, the Mane-iac changed too, having transformed into a familiar tall woman whose every aspect was so sharp she could probably cut a grown man in half by just glaring at him. Dressed in a sharp charcoal skirt and sweater-vest over a clean white shirt, the brunette had a strict teacher look going on, her hair cut shorter at the back with strands of longer hair framing her sharp facial features. She even had a pair of delicate looking glasses balanced on the narrow bridge of her nose.
Phantom-actual, less commonly known as Libby, just stood there, framed in the doorway of Foxtrot-12’s private quarters.
Libby narrowed her eyes significantly as she suddenly realised what one of her phantoms was spending his free time on. Resting her hands on her slip hips, the woman sighed like an impatient mother about to scold a small child.
“Let me guess. Were you writing self-insert clop-fiction again?” she asked, her terse voice sounding like it might cut Rigel’s ear-drums to shreds if she ever hit the right pitch.
Rigel cleared his throat sheepishly; a sound drowned out by the squeak of his chair as he leaned back no longer caring to cover the smut he was writing. Lifting the pad he considered the lengthy – but ultimately pointless – narrative with a cocked head.
“Honestly,” he admitted while twirling his pen, “it’s not the worst thing I’ve written.”
"Ghillie Dhu" - Fluttershy / Tree
“Ghillie Dhu”
Hell is not metaphorical. It is a place.
A place concealed in the treeline overlooking the quaint little postcard town of colourful ponies. A place between shadow under the thick foliage and the merciless, burning sun. A place among the tall grass and the crickets croaking out their last chirps before spontaneously combusting into little, short lived puffs of flame.
With the alicorn sisters in heat, the weather suffered. Daytime was hotter than normal. Night time was wintery frigid.
And while Princess Celestia was suffering the heat of day in more ways than what was obvious, the phantoms of foxtrot team had to do the same. They were sat on the edge of Ponyville, concealed in the tall grass just beyond the relieving shade of the treeline, ghillied up from the boots to the head and aiming camouflaged telescopic lenses at the town.
Jared sighed slowly and softly. It was a gesture his drill instructor back at sniper school would have chewed him out for. But among a civilian organisation, even one as covert and tightly run as the phantoms there was enough leniency for him to get a little sloppy. Very slowly his left hand abandoned the supporting position under the lens of his camera and he reached up, exposed fingertips blackened with dirt and camo-paint wiping a few droplets of sweat glistening on his forehead. It was a little relief from the tickling sensation of cold drops tracing an agonising snail’s trail down his skin.
Sitting in a typical sniper’s shooting stance, the ghillie suit made Jared Crowley look more like a tree than a human on the wrong side of twenty-five. Foliage both natural and artificial bulwarked his whole body from the neck down to his boots. His hands were covered in fingerless gloves, any exposed skin on the ends of his fingers, wrists and even his face grubby with a mask of dark green and black paint. He had a hood pulled up over his head, bits of leaves and string dangling over his face like a heavy-metal hairdo to complete the illusion he was an innocent cluster of grass watching Ponyville’s western side.
Beside Jared was movement, and shifting his eyes slightly he saw the prone figure in the grass reach back and scratch himself through his thick, insulated trousers. The team leader Foxtrot-actual was like Jared, ex-military. He would have normally sat completely still while concealed, but like with young Crowley had allowed a little civilian leniency to take hold.
He too was ghillied up to the nines, insulating his body under the merciless sun. Their camouflage gave them no reprieve, and there wasn’t even a relieving breeze to snake through the exposed parts of what was best described as a ‘woodland camouflaged arctic survival suit.’ He was laying prone, the camo-wrapped telescopic lens parting the grass at the crest of the knoll slightly and a wire-mesh over the glass preventing a sun-glare from giving away his position.
This situation, this position, concealed to the casual eye but at the mercy of the sun – this was their own little personal slice of hell. And Foxtrot-12 was their tormentor.
“Morning, fuckers,” sang Rigel’s bright and fresh voice on the squad’s communicators.
Foxtrot-actual sighed deeply. “Good morning, Twelve,” Foxy-ac whispered patiently.
“What’s got you hitters out at oh-eight-crazy? Cuz’ I just had an epic lie in.”
Going by the assumption he was joking around with them, Jared chuckled into his microphone. “Thanks for sharing, sir.”
That turned Rigel bitter though, making him to scoff hard into his microphone back home in mission control. “Hey, don’t call me ‘sir,’ new guy. I work for a living.”
“Whoa, who pissed in your cornflakes this morning, Rige?” Foxtrot-03’s Texan accent drawled. Tex’s voice was only heard on the comms, Jared didn’t even know where he was concealed. But he knew the man was out there somewhere, watching with Foxtrot-02 concealed by his side.
“He’s pissed off because the Cadence observation has been put on hold for the next month,” Foxtrot-02 explained through pursed lips. Crispy was probably balancing his cardboard tray as he rolled a cigarette instead of holding his camera.
“Oh, that’s right.” Jared smiled. “You guys told me Twelve has a crush on Princess Cadence.”
“I’m just saying, even though Shining Armour is in the dog-house, there’s still peeps to be gathered.” And as if only then realising what Jared had said, Rigel added loudly, “I do not have a crush!”
Crispy chuckled. “No, of course not. Crushes are cute. ‘Stalker’ is more your style, Rige.”
“Fuck you. Fuck you all. I hope you choke in those hot-ass ghillie suits.”
That comment was definitely a joke judging by Rigel’s tone. But all the same, Jared was choking in his sweaty ghillie suit, and an important question came to light. “I’ve been meaning to ask about that, sir. Why is there only one invisibility cloak in foxtrot team? The phantom training manual said each phantom is assigned one.”
Foxy-ac literally rolled onto his side and looked over his shoulder at the younger phantom, his confused frown visible through the camouflage and his bushy beard entwined with twigs and grass. “We have a training manual?”
“You wanna know how to get an invisibility cloak, kid?” Rigel asked.
“Yeah.”
“SUCK A DICK!” the whole squad, Foxy-ac included, whispered, joining their voices as one to almost deafen the new guy.
“That’s how I got mine,” Rigel assured.
“Rige does give good head,” Tex admitted.
Jared gave a queasy burp. “I hope you’re joking.”
“I guess you find out tonight, eh new guy?” Crispy chuckled suggestively through the cigarette lodged in his mouth.
“Alight, calm down, foxtrot.” Foxtrot-actual was chuckling with a shake of his head. “Give Kidd some breathing space. Remember how much shit you had flung at you on your first day, Twelve?”
“I still have nightmares.” Rigel paused then snorted loudly. “Mind you, my first op was to gather peeps on Nightmare Moon, so no surprise there.”
“Are you always assigned peep ops, Twelve?” Jared asked curiously, feeling better as he realised everybody was joking with each other. He chalked up the lack of invisibility cloaks to go around to stretched resources rather than fellating skills.
“It’s complicated, Kidd. Don’t worry your fuzzy little head. I gotta get briefed for observation tonight. I’ll catch up with you guys later.”
“Later, Twelve.”
As Rigel left the comms, Foxy-ac gave a sigh. “Doesn’t look like anypony’s coming out to play. Stand down for now, foxtrot.”
“Way ahead of you, boss,” Crispy stated, the click of his lighter clear on the comms.
“You better not be lighting up, Two.”
There was a pause before Crispy hummed thoughtfully. “Ummm… no?”
Inching his arms down, Jared lowered his camera and relaxed. But he kept his eyes fixed on the little cottage just on the edge of town, between the Everfree Forest tree-line and Ponyville. A little house known famously as ‘Fluttershy’s Cottage,’ home to the nicest pony in all of Equestria.
Though, that might be an exaggerated term since most ponies of Equestria were pretty nice. Of course there were your run of the mill douche-bags mixing things up, but on the whole those were way less common than they were on Earth. It had been a bit of a shock to Jared’s system to be honest, seeing so many individuals be so nice to each other. It almost seemed kind of wrong for there to be point-five-percent crime and no war or other grand scale conflict to speak of.
What made it even more incredible was the fact ponies were so nice all the time despite the harsh environment they live in. The fauna, and in some cases flora, was hyper-lethal in Equestria. There were magic wolves make of wood that could re-constitute themselves. Among the other nasties – to list only a few – were manticores, hydra, dragons, cockatrice… I could go on naming things in Equestria that could kill/eat/rape/maim you, but that’d get boring.
TL;DR, Equestria was a dangerous place. But like the Irish, ponies seemed to have a ‘sure it’ll be grand’ sort of mentality. Their economy was good. Life wasn’t too hard. And everypony had friends. So it wasn’t all bad.
Jared’s moment of short reflection ended with a crackle in his ear. The communicator always did that, buzzing a little as the speakers came out of stand-by mode to save battery power and began broadcasting the incoming message.
“Foxtrot-actual; this is Phantom-actual,” a woman’s sharp voice broadcasted on the squad channel. “How does it look, over?”
“All quiet on the Fluttershy-front. Break.” Foxy-ac twisted the zoom-dial of his camera lens a little, blowing up the image of the cottage in his viewfinder. Observing for a few seconds he slowly zoomed out again. “She’s inside, curtains drawn. I think she isn’t coming out today. Over.”
“Affirmative, foxtrot. Stand by for new intel,” Phantom-actual announced. “Sources state that Fluttershy may be in heat. Phantom-actual wants positive confirmation before green-lighting a peep-observation. We need a volunteer, over.”
Before anyone could even react, Jared was volunteering. “God, yes. I’ll do it, just so long as I get to do something ! Foxtrot-thirteen is ready to move, ma’am. Over.”
“Thirteen; obtain visual confirmation of intel on Fluttershy and send verbal report.” Phantom-actual didn’t seem to even pause or consider other volunteers. “Zero contact, how copy?”
“Solid copy. Foxtrot-thirteen, out.”
“You sure ‘bout this, Kidd?” Crispy asked putting away his cigarette and propping up his camera again. “Looks risky,” he assessed, peering through the viewfinder.
Jared chuckled with a shrug as he started dropping non-essential gear for this little recce. “Relax. I’m an ex-Force Recon Marine. What could possibly go wrong?”
Crispy snorted. “Famous. Last. Words. Tex, you got a better view of the road leading into Ponyville. Let Kidd know when he’s clear to move.”
“Roger that. Coast is clear. No time like the present. Ready,” – as Tex paused, Jared hid his cameras and other non-essentials in the grass. He still had his shoulder-cam in case there was anything worth recording – “and… go!”
With just his comms and the ghillie suit weighing him down, Jared rolled to his feet and broke cover with a dash. One minute he was a bush, the next he was a swamp-thing with his head lowered into a desperate roadie-run like had had several gun barrels pointed at him.
A dozen metres from the garden the human dropped on all fours and scrambled up the steep hill the cottage sat on before crouching stock still against the cottage wall. Breathing hard from the short run, he very slowly craned his neck to look left and right, clearing the garden inch by inch before looking up at the window just above his head.
“Take a breath, Kidd,” Foxy-ac whispered. “You’re clear.”
Catching his breath as ordered, Jared slowly reached up and with one hand on the windowsill pulled himself to his feet. Peering through the camouflage hanging over his eyes, the human cocked his head, trying to spy through the drawn curtains.
He had little luck. “Curtains are drawn. I’m trying the door.”
“Be careful,” Foxtrot-actual said as Jared hopped over the picket garden fence.
Jared double checked he wasn’t leaving any distinct tracks before crossing the lawn, keeping the cottage outer wall tight against his shoulder.
The cottage door was a miniaturised stable variety. The kind that was popular in farmhouses where the top and bottom half moved independently of each other. Centred on the top door was a little heart-shaped window as was all the craze in the sickly sweet Equestria architecture. Taking the latch in both hands, he gently squeezed the thumb-lever and opened it up with a miniature click of metal.
In response the door silently swung open a few centimetres.
“Door’s unlocked. I’m just going to take a-…”
“Grrrrrrr…”
Foxtrot-13 stopped dead at the sound of a growl. It was low at first, like a rumbling stomach. And even though it was at first docile and pathetic sounding, the human still breathed out a pained, “uh-oh.”
Stuck holding the door like he’d been caught with a hand in the cookie jar, Jared very slowly stepped aside and turned on the spot. In front of him was a hulking four-legged creature, long fur, a bushy teeth and lips peeled back into a carnivorous snarl.
Growling at him was the biggest Alsatian Jared had ever seen. He had more in common with a wild bear than he did with a dog, complete with bushy tan coloured fur and enormous killing teeth.
“Oh, shit,” the young man whispered.
“Not lookin’ good, is it?” Crispy sighed as he got eyes on the dog too.
“Um…” Jared was wondering whether he should actually say something in reply or try to calm the dog down. He chose the latter, gently reaching out with one hand to the Alsatian. “Nice doggie?”
The dog answered with an angry bark, as if warning the alien not to make another move. But freeze was something Jared didn’t do as he fearfully withdrew his hand, breaking into a fresh sweat that had nothing to do with the hot weather.
“Run dude,” was Crispy’s ingenious suggestion.
And Jared didn’t need telling twice.
Only he didn’t make a break for the hills. There was barely any time to make it over the garden fence again, the dog would have had him for breakfast before he could get even one leg over. So Jared did the only thing he could to escape without being perforated by canine teeth. He tore open the cottage door and stumbled inside, slamming the door shut again.
The whole door shuddered as the Alsatian ran into it, desperately barking and clawing at the wood as Jared stumbled back a few steps.
At the same time he realised he’d run headlong into a pony’s home without appropriate camouflage or at the very least looking before he leapt. He stood out in the open in the middle of the quaint little cottage like a tree growing in the middle of a city.
Turning on the spot, Jared felt his blood run cold as he looked down slightly at the lone figure standing before him.
She was framed in the kitchen archway, her big green eyes wide and twinkling with surprise. Her pink mane fell down over one half of her face, cutely hiding part of her shy expression. The pegasus was covered in a light butter yellow coat with identical coloured feathers in the wings neatly folded to her sides.
Fluttershy stared at the ghillied up human, and Jared stared right back. All his training, all his experience and all his swagger… the phantom could only think to say one thing.
“Aw, rats.”
“Well said.”
[>> F-fwd >> F-fwd >> F-fwd >>]
They couldn’t have been standing there staring at each other for more than a minute. But to Jared it felt like an hour. He was completely left for words. He was out in the open, no cover, no chance in hell of just going to ground and hoping Fluttershy thought he was a figment of her imagination.
She had him dead-to-rights.
But instead of running screaming into Ponyville, telling everypony there was an alien swamp-monster-looking creature in her house, she stayed rooted to the spot. Jared was similarly rooted – that term made all the more hilarious by the fact his suit made him look like a tree.
And then her lips parted, her mouth working up to saying something. Jared winced. Here it comes, he thought, expecting hysterical screaming.
“Hello,” the pegasus greeted lightly.
Jared blinked a few times, wondering if he’d heard that right. A simple, un-extraordinary greeting. Short, to the point and quite relevant the more Jared thought about it. So he returned the gesture.
“Hi,” he greeted back lightly, confirming he spoke the same language as the pony.
That had always been curious to Jared, how ponies were trans-galactic creatures from another world but humans actually spoke the same language as they did. And not just the same style of speech, but the same language – English out of all the hundreds of languages and dialects that could have been used.
And as interesting as linguistic likeness between Equestria and Earth was, it was also highly irrelevant.
Fortunately, Fluttershy shook Jared out of his train of thought when she spoke again, this time taking a careful step forward and looking at him sideways. “Are you some kind of alien creature?” she asked softly.
Despite the low volume, it seemed Crispy still heard her clearly. “Uh-oh. She’s on to you.”
Ignoring him, Jared quickly shook his head, waving his hands at the pegasus in a ‘negative-on-that’ fashion. “No! No, I’m a... uh...”
“A ladyboy!” Tex said.
“A twat,” Crispy suggested.
“You’re a Shakesperian Actor,” Foxy-ac helpfully put forward.
Ignoring the fuckers who despite the FUBAR situation were absolutely loving this; Jared wasn’t quite sure what to say. Anything would do, so long as he didn’t reveal he was a human, a creature not native to Equestria – or the planet for that matter. Looking down on himself, he wondered what he even resembled… then he realised his humanity was completely covered in a foliage suit. There was only one thing he looked like. One thing he could pretend to be.
“I’m a Ghillie Dhu,” Jared explained.
Tex snorted, the sound transmitted loudly into Jared’s earpiece so clearly it sounded like the man was standing right beside him. “Nice save.”
“A Ghillie Dhu?” Fluttershy probed inquisitively with a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty. Clearly she’d never heard of such a thing.
“Yeah, a, uh-... a tree,” Jared simplified.
That seemed to catch Fluttershy out completely, and Jared was suddenly reminded of that time the pony had admitted to her friends on the train to Appleloosa how much she liked trees. “You’re a talking, walking tree!?” the pegasus gasped out, her expression visibly changing to a smile as her wings jolted straight up.
Feeling some of his anxiety exit stage right, Jared managed a grin, growing quite comfortable with the fibs he was spinning. On the one hand he felt bad lying to the adorably innocent pony. But on the other hand he had to cover himself, or Phantom-actual would have her sadistic way with his testicles.
“Well, not so much a tree, more so a tree ‘spirit.’ I take care of trees,” Jared explained.
Foxy-ac snickered. “You’re really good with bullshit, Kidd. You ever consider a job in marketing?”
In the meantime Fluttershy didn’t seem to live up to the personality he expected from his favourite cartoon character. There was no shred of social awkwardness, leaving a curious young mare with an excited expression.
“Really? I didn’t think there was anything other than earth-ponies who took care of trees!” Fluttershy prattled taking flight so she dashed right into Jared’s face, hovering perfectly still with her eyes level to his.
Surprised, Jared leaned back, stepping away. But with a soft flap of her wings Fluttershy stayed close enough for him to catch the scent of animal feed clinging to her coat. And no doubt she could smell the musk of forest – earth, moss and rotting wood.
“Which trees do you take care of?”
Jared paused for only a millisecond as he fabricated a whole new set of lies, slowly weaving a whole intricate backstory to this Ghillie Dhu identity… either weaving or digging himself into a hole only time would tell.
“Well, I take care of trees in the Everfree Forest. That’s probably why I’m not seen very often,” he said.
“The trees in the Everfree Forest are taken care of?”
Jared nodded his head vigerously, shaking the bits of frayed camouflage out of his face. “Oh, yeah! Someone’s gotta do it.”
Fluttershy cocked her head cutely. “Someone ?”
“Well, actually somedhu ,” Jared corrected. “Which is lucky because some-don’t . He-heh-he... uh... get it? Some... don’t... no, you’re right that was a terrible joke.”
With that final admission an awkward paused followed. Fluttershy slowly lowered herself to the ground, eying Jared’s camouflage suit from head to toe as the human awkwardly adjusted the chafing collar. Watching her as the pegasus started pacing around him, Jared suddenly felt all his comfort slip. He quickly felt less like an alien trying to cover up his origins and more like a morsel under the inspection of a predator.
And predatory was probably the best way to describe Fluttershy’s expression.
“So you’re… a tree,” the pony said, hovering behind Jared. Her tail whipped up and brushed the loose fibres hanging from the human’s hip as she added huskily with her eye-lids drooped seductively. “I love trees. I always wished I could be a tree. They’re so… so…” she giggled, swishing up to Jared’s front and resting her chin on his belt. “I’m not even sure what the word is. All I know is they make me quite… hot.”
Frozen in place and staring down at her, whites of his eyes made obvious surrounded by smears of dirt and foliage, Jared swallowed hard. Fluttershy was definitely having an off-day. It wasn’t right. There were a few things Jared knew to be fact.
Fact; Fluttershy was the sweetest, shyest, meekest but at the same time the most lovely pony in Equestria. Jared would know. She was his favourite pony and of all ponies he expected her to be the last one to be DTF.
But fact; a pony’s heat drove them near insane to seek out a mate unless they ‘remedied’ themselves.
Fact; Fluttershy had clearly forgotten to do any sort of ‘remedy’ing.
Final fact, and this is the important one to note; it was time to bail out.
“Well, I gotta be going. Lots of things to dhu ... geddit? ‘Cuz I’m a Ghillie Dhu and I got stuff to...” Not even a chuckle from the pegasus. “Wow. Tough crowd.”
Removing her chin from his belt buckle, Fluttershy reared up onto her hind legs and planted her front hooves on his waist. But even then her face only came up to about his chest. “I’ve never met a moving, talking tree before. I wish I had.”
“That’s nice,” Jared said, trying to step back, but the pony moved with him.
“I’ve tried to talk to trees, but they never talk back. They don’t move either, meaning I have to do all the work. Out interactions are usually quite… ah, dull.” Her hooves raked down over the synthetic foliage on his suit, testing the texture as she cutely bit her bottom lip. “Though, I’m not really interested in conversation whenever I approach a tree in the state I’m in right now. The one good thing about trees, is they’re always ready.”
“Ready for what?”
Fluttershy’s smile spread. “I’m glad you asked, Ghillie. Here. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll show you.”
Jared tried to step back, but as he did, Fluttershy gave him a hard push. Before he could find his balance, the phantom’s heel caught on the edge of a chair and he tumbled over the side of the arm rest.
As he went down he reached out for support. His hand only glanced the standing lamp though. It topped over to one side, snagging on the nearest set of curtains. As it went down, so did the curtains spilling the sun into the dim room with a violent burst comparable to that of a flashbang grenade.
Jared was flat on his back as it all went down, Fluttershy landing on top of the human and straddling his waist.
“Ah! There we go. We can see in now,” Crispy announced as the sunlight spilled through the open window. As he saw the pony sitting on him, erotically bucking her hips back and forth so her crotch ground over his, the observing phantom added, “hi, Kidd. Lookin’ good there.”
As Fluttershy was absently grinding on the phantom, Jared looked around to see if there was any path of escape. Knocking the pony off him would be easy enough. But getting away would be a whole other chore.
Seeing what he was clearly plotting, the rest of the team pinged his communicator.
“Yeah, I really wouldn’t try to run, dude,” Crispy suggested. “She has wings and can out-run you.”
“Just go with it, Kidd. Maybe she’ll make you breakfast.”
Jared grimaced. They were right. If he bolted Fluttershy would likely run him down in the state she was in. And then she’d probably either have her way with him outside for all to see, or worse yet he might lead her or other ponies to the rest of foxtrot team.
Phantom-actual was going to hate this. Foxtrot-13 however was still kind of on the fence on how he felt about the whole situation.
That must have been why he didn’t attempt to struggle any further as Fluttershy managed to move aside the layers of synthetic foliage and opened the fly of his trousers. And for the pegasus to release the present hidden within wasn’t particularly hard after the zipper was clumsily torn open. Trapped in a ghillie suit under the blazing summer sun, it would have been suicide for Jared not to go ‘commando.’
With all of Fluttershy’s grinding and fidgeting, Jared had felt a stirring in his pants. So by the time she whipped out two hoof-fulls of cock, it was already partially erect. Fluttershy’s eyes were wide as she kept the human manhood gripped firmly between her front hooves, taking in the size and scent of it. Like the rest of him, she caught the musk of the forest. The smell of cut grass, moss, bark and tree sap filled her senses as she inched her nose closer to the tip of his penis.
“That’s a big, hard branch you have, Mister Dhu,” Fluttershy cooed as she lowered her head down to the base so her chin nestled between the human’s thighs.
As Jared gulped wondering what she was about to do to him, the human spotted a flash of pink. Fluttershy’s tongue slipped out of her mouth, gently raking over her lips, leaving them wet and glistening in the rays of light shining through the open window. Then like a viper she let her tongue lash out.
It made contact with the base of Jared’s cock causing the whole thing to twitch in her hooves. Fluttershy giggled, then planted another wet lick; this one long and slow. Jared shuddered as an electric spark shot through his loins at the sight and feel of Fluttershy’s broad tongue slowly raking up along him leaving a cold wet trail.
Her tongue’s ministrations worked all the way up the underside of his shaft before she locked her lips over the tip and circled the head. As she massaged Jared with her mouth she was salivating like he’d dangled a carrot in front of her… okay, that was poor phrasing – my bad.
Watching her intently, Jared saw a line of drool sneak its way past her glistening lips and slowly drip down the side of his penis. Lifting her head a little, she gave the tip a little kiss before flashing Jared a soppy grin.
Then without warning, her mouth open wide, she pitched forward and greedily engulfed the whole cock in one go like it was a piece of delicious candy. Fluttershy didn’t stop there, instantly beginning to suckle and lick, working her lips all the way down to the base of the shaft before dragging them right up to the head again. All the time her seductively narrowed eyes remained fixed on Jared’s face as if trying to examine expression through the curtain of camouflage draped over his face.
Jared, overwhelmed, watched his vision blur. With crossed eyes he froze the moment Fluttershy’s mouth assaulted him and let his head hit the floor with a dull thud. The accompanied groan was enough confirmation for Fluttershy that she was doing a good job, so she didn’t let up.
Again she slid her lips down to the base of his shaft and he felt her soft, smooth tongue cuddle the underside of his cock. The head suddenly met an obstruction, firmly planting itself in the back of Fluttershy’s throat. She gave a small gag as her eyes fell shut, but she held fast.
After a second she retreated, lapping up the excess of drool bathing Jared’s branch and swallowing before working her way down the pole again. The process repeated with another little gag, and she felt Jared twitch under her body.
Smiling into his erection she felt his hips thrust a little, his body growing more eager with each passing moment. When she slid up again, she opened her mouth a little and swirled her tongue over his sensitive tip before working her lips down the shaft again, repeating the basic motions faster and faster like she was growing more desperate to get to his creamy centre.
Little did she know, if Fluttershy kept up her rate the creamy centre would come to her, not the other way around. Jared groaned, arching his back a little as he grew closer to climax. Fluttershy was far better at this than she was supposed to be. The Fluttershy he knew and loved was an embodiment of inhibition. She had shy in her name for crying out loud.
Who would have known she’d be princess of blowjobs?
As quickly and as enthusiastically as she had begun, she stopped, lifting her head and mouth clear of the Ghillie Dhu’s primary reproduction branch with a wet pop. A trail of saliva running from the corner of her mouth down her chin, Fluttershy grinned proudly as Jared managed to lift his head and look at her.
Flashing him a flirtatious wink, the pony pressed his wet erection against her face, rubbing the crook of her muzzle against the shaft. “Are you ready to get to begin, Ghillie?
Jared managed a scoff. “Begin? What have we been doing thus far?”
Fluttershy giggled as she crawled off him. Turning around she lowered her chest to the floor and presented her slim flanks for Jared’s inspection. Slowly and with subtle seduction, she smiled back at the human and wagged her hips from side to side. the motion caused her tail to lift up and hang to one side, presenting a pink line breaking up her yellow fur.
Her nether lips were swollen to the point they were parting practically on their own to reveal the velvety flesh within. The sound of it caused Jared’s loins to almost literally growl with hunger.
“I’m sick of always doing the work whenever I rut trees. I want… no! I need you to take me! Make me your little rut-toy.”
The human coughed. Who was this pony and what the hell had she done with Fluttershy!?
Jared looked between the waiting mare and the window, wondering if he had enough energy for a sprint.
“She still has wings,” Crispy reminded.
“And she can still out-run you,” Tex added.
The phantom sighed as he sat up properly. What was it his buddies from the marines would advise him to do? Oh, right! Fuck her right in the axe-wound.
Here goes nothing , Jared thought to himself as he rolled to his knees and shuffled into position.
Sitting on his knees he was at a comfortable rutting height. Though it took a little one-handed manipulation to line his cock-head up with Fluttershy’s slit. Pressing the head against her soft flesh, Fluttershy let out a small, almost impatient moan.
He felt her snatch muscles relax and her opening gently yield to him. The soft walls receded and almost seemed to suck him in. wet and slick, he felt her tunnel engulf him, spreading warmth down his shaft with every inch he penetrated her.
Before long he hilted the pony completely, his hips pressing against her haunches tightly and the head of his penis poking her inner depths. Fluttershy squeaked the moment he was all the way in, then sighed deeply with a smile.
Pausing like that for a moment, Jared swallowed and started pulling out. Looking down he saw her tight pink lips rake smoothly over his slick member, right up to the point only his head penetrated her. Stopping, he smoothly slid back into her. Fluttershy squeaked again as he hilted her a second time, faster than the first.
“C’mon, dude. Put some hips into it,” Crispy coached. “And whatever you do, don’t kiss her on the mouth! That’s a no-go on the mouth! You know where it’s been!”
With a sigh, Jared started thrusting. Though not because of Crispy’s instructions. He thrusted because his body told him he had to. Because it felt good. It felt right .
A single, feral objective burned passionately in his brain. It told him he should… no, he had to rut this beautiful mare into submission. There was no more turning back, and if he stopped now he might never forgive himself.
He lost track of time. It felt like hours were passing in the matter of mere moments. With every thrust electric sparks of joy filled both the human and the pony.
While Jared was wildly assaulting the pony’s fun-hole with a steady thrusting motion, Fluttershy’s smile faded. Her eyes fell shut as she bit her bottom lip hard, her facial muscles relaxed into an expression of bliss. With every soppy thrust massaging her insides she let out a small ‘squee’ before quickly silencing herself.
Jared didn’t make a sound aside from involuntary heavy breathing into the mic of his comms. Both hands were planted on Fluttershy’s firm flanks, gently massaging her cutie-marks and running his fingers through her soft fur.
However despite progress, Crispy sighed frustrated. “Kidd, do something! You’re losin’ her. Hit her with a pile-driver! Flip her over! Whack her with the ol’ Spiderman! Donkey-punch! Something!”
“I don’t know what any of that means,” Jared whispered, twitching as he almost lost focus.
Feeling his member jolt inside her, Fluttershy mimicked the action with a nervous little buck of her hips. At the same time a small moan escaped her mouth before she quickly pressed a hoof over her lips as if ashamed of the little outburst.
Jared was immediately disappointed as Fluttershy silenced herself.
“Please don’t stop yourself,” he randomly blurted out as he reached forward and gently pushed her hoof away from her mouth. “Your voice is beautiful.”
“Yeah! Talk dirty. That’ll work. Atta’ boy.”
“Crispy, shut up and let the boy work,” Foxtrot-actual ordered sharply.
Letting her mouth fall open with a wide smile, Fluttershy happily let it all out. Crooning sweetly, she sang a beautiful song of ecstasy. It was music to Jared’s ears. No orchestra or songbird would be able to produce a sound more pleasing.
“Oh, buck me, Ghillie. Buck me hard! Make me cum-m-m-m~!”
As she was letting everything flow, something was changing in Fluttershy. Jared felt her muscles contract, her tunnel growing tighter with each plunge into her burning marehood. The sensation sent new prickles of delight shooting through his loins and Jared couldn’t help groan. As he did, his voice broke and it came out as more of a squeal than a groan.
“Mmmmh, yeah. Get in there, boy. Squeal like a pig,” Tex groaned grossly, putting more humorous exaggeration to his accent.
Jared closed his eyes and focused on what he was doing so he wouldn’t burst out laughing.
Unfortunately he focused a little too hard on what he was doing and felt himself pucker up for his last few pounds.
Fluttershy noticed and contracted her abdomen even more. Her marehood tightened even more before she started bucking her hips in time with the humans. With each push forward, Fluttershy rocked her whole body back, meeting the thrust vigorously with feral abandon as she howled like a timberwolf. Jared wondered if the neighbours might think Zap Apple Season was coming early.
And speaking of coming…
The sudden vigour drove Fluttershy right over the edge. Howling, she seemed possessed by some sort of sex demon. Her whole body shook and convulsed like she was having a seizure. It only lasted a few moments as Jared felt a hot shower engulf his cock still buried deep in her fun-tunnel.
Fluttershy creamed hard enough to leave a sticky mess down the front of Jared’s trousers.
Jared grunted as Fluttershy cried out in a passionate state, every muscle in his body seizing up. He clenched hard, and as he did he unloaded a string of sticky ‘sap’ into her. Relaxing into a split-second of bliss, he clenched again shooting a second, then third and fourth rope of gooey ‘life generating’ elixir into Fluttershy’s womb.
Feeling the warm semen slide into her body, Fluttershy gave a sigh of bliss, completely frozen in place with only her head moving as she let her chin hit the ground.
Somewhere outside the cottage Crispy gave a disappointed, “Aww.
“C’mon. Is that it? You wuss.”
Jared ignored him, rocking back and sliding his cock slick with a mixture of fluids from Fluttershy’s snatch. As he did he saw some semen bubble from her opening and cling to the fur on her inner thigh.
Fluttershy didn’t move, as if she hadn’t felt Jared retreat. She was laying in a pretty exposed position, her chin planted firmly in a puddle of her own drool, balancing on her rear legs so her ass was stuck high in the air and her front legs sprawled uselessly out to her sides.
Frowning, worried that he’d broken her, Jared leaned around Fluttershy’s side to take a look at her face. The pegasus confirmed she was alive with a soft snore.
“She’s asleep,” Jared panted.
“Better make yourself scarce, Kidd.”
Foxtrot-13 barely needed telling, as he was already diving out the window and making a mad scramble for the tree-line.
“Run, Forest! Run” Crispy laughed noticing Jared hadn’t quite ‘re-dressed’ himself as he escaped. “Ooooh! Watch the thistles, dude.”
[\ End Recording]
Author's Note
DTF = "Down to fuck."
“Meta Tease” - Princess Luna
“Meta Tease”
Rigel sniffed, catching the distinct odour of shame, fatigue and hooker-spit… okay, not so much the last one, but the other two were pretty prominent, even though Foxtrot-13 was half a nation away connected only by radio-waves.
Slumped up against a cold, bare stone wall covered in his invisibility cloak, Rigel quietly munched on some trail mix as he struck up casual conversation.
“So, Kidd…”
Jared’s reply from the phantom headquarters control room was immediate. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
Unfortunately for Jared, Rigel did.
“A thistle, eh?” Rigel persisted.
“I was in a hurry to get out there,” Jared explained. “… I would have expected you to make a comment about Fluttershy.”
“Well, if you’re gonna bring it up…”
Jared groaned. Foxtrot-12 smiled, not quite done with the new guy yet. He really wished he could have been in Ponyville to see it for himself. Not for all the gross reasons, obviously. But this story of how Jared was able to keep his cool and keep human existence in Equestria a secret by fabricating a story about being a ‘Ghillie Dhu’ before ploughing Fluttershy into a drooling stupor? That’s the epic kind of shit you need to see to believe!
Huddled under his invisibility cloak pulled over him like he was suspending a tarp to camp out under, Rigel rustled through his packed lunch as he brought the rest of foxtrot team into conversation over the radio. “So what are we talking here, guys? Bit of heavy petting or full on penetration?”
“The full works.” Crispy answered, probably sitting next to Jared in the phantom operations control centre. “One minute she’s got his dick down her throat, I blink and I’m seeing Kidd’s gone balls deep in her, bareback pony-style.”
In the background Rigel could hear Jared give an aggravated groan. “How are you gonna sleep at night?” Rigel chuckled.
Jared sighed deeply into the comms. “Should be easy enough… Fluttershy is my favourite pony after all.” He paused allowing that to sink in before adding another nuke to that statement. “After Twilight Sparkle of course.”
Rigel was caught between a cough, scoff and chuckle. For those who are curious, it sounded like he was choking. “Whoa, hold on a sec, Kidd. Are you a brony?”
“Uhh… yeah, I suppose I am.”
“I can’t even talk to you right now,” Rigel said with a slow shake of his head.
He heard Foxy-ac snort before he leaned into the control centre microphone to say, “three words, Twelve. Self. Insert. Clopfics.”
“Point taken. Shutting up now.”
Rigel crunched softly on the last of the hazelnuts and pecans out of his phantom-standard-issue trail mix. Most of the zip-lock bag was just full of disgusting leftover raisins and a few chocolate chips he was saving for last. He looked down at the bag in disgust realising the dim torchlight of his headlamp was fading and it was going to be an absolute pain in the ass to distinguish gag-inducing raisins and beautiful chocolate.
Sighing he zipped up the bag and tucked it into a pocket before putting away his half-useless torch. The food would keep ‘till morning when he needed a snack during his long walk back to HQ.
Rigel was – metaphorically speaking of course – once again balls deep in Canterlot again. Last time was only a few days ago when he ran a peep op on Celestia during the heights of her heat. The princess was still in heat of course, but it seemed she wasn’t the only one. And so his superiors had sent Rigel back into the belly of the beast so to speak, back to gather some more sexy snaps of a princess.
Hidden under his invisibility cloak, Rigel sat against the cold wall on the floor of a storage room. Surrounding him were shelves stacked with multi-coloured cleaning potions, clusters of mops, piles of rags and other janitorial utensils. He checked his watch and figured the night guard shift was in full swing. It was close to midnight and it was the rest of foxtrot team’s turn to torture Rigel and keep him awake. Whereas they got to go to their soft warm bunks in a little while, Rigel would be up for the next couple of hours to take images of Princess Luna’s bedroom shenanigans and then make the long, stealthy and gruelling extraction trip back to phantom HQ in the Everfree Forest.
Rigel didn’t mind sleuthing around at nighttime. He only grew worried when it was the night he was actually spying on.
Crispy suddenly vocalised his fears. “You know, I was thinking. If Celly caught you spying on her while she clopped like there was no tomorrow; she might show restraint and capture you alive at least. But if Loony-Lulu caught you; you’d best make peace with your dear and fluffy lord. That’ bitch’d straight up vaporise your ass.”
“Just his ass?” Tex asked.
“Depends on her skill with the ass-seeking magic missile.”
Rigel shook his head. “Lovin’ the encouragement, guys. Thanks.”
At the same time it was completely true. Princess Luna was the more hot-headed of the regal sisters. Yeah that meant the footage Rigel got of her private escapades were all the more steamy. But he also had to be doubly careful. As seen with Jared and Fluttershy, if compromised by any other pony there was at least a chance the phantom in question would be able to bullshit his way out of a corner.
If a phantom was cornered by Luna – in all likelihood he and the corner would be vaporised.
“Would you like me to calculate your odds of success?” Jared suddenly asked.
Rigel huffed. “If it’s all the same to you, dude, I’d prefer if you didn’t.”
Foxtrot-12 checked his watch again. Coming up on eleven-twenty. Nearly time to move. As he was standing and straightening out his cloak, making sure all his extremities were covered and his cam-rifle was secured by his side, Rigel moved to the very back of the store.
As he did, Foxtrot-Actual’s voice returned on the comms. “Foxtrot-twelve, Phantom-actual just gave me the nod. You are declared hot.”
Rigel gave a nod. “Message received, Foxy-ac. Foxtrot-twelve is moving... over... I think. Or was it ‘out?’ I get confused.”
On the other side of the line he could hear his teammates and friends chuckle. “Stay safe, brother. Foxtrot-actual, out.”
Alone and surrounded by ponies for miles in every direction, the lone human clambered up a set of shelves with a sigh, doing his best not the shake and rattle supplies. At the top he reached out and touched one of the slate ceiling tiles, lifting it out of the dummy grout and sliding it aside. With a heave he pulled himself into the secret cavity in the ceiling of the janitor’s closet and replaced the loose tile.
Out of sight from any prying pony eyes, Rigel rolled his invisibility cloak into his pack and crawled on his stomach through a set of intertwining secret tunnels running throughout the palace guided by a map loaded onto his phone and using the feint glow of the screen as makeshift torchlight. Centuries ago when the regal princesses were but adorable wee things, their parents commissioned the Canterlot Palace and had the builders make these narrow tunnels that filled the ceiling cavities like a secret honeycomb. The idea was that guards would hide in them and keep an eye on the princesses when they grew into teenagers, just in case they were visited by boys.
Long forgotten over time, even by the princesses whose virginity the tunnels were designed to protect, the cavities were the perfect way for Foxtrot-12 to sneak about the palace. Unfortunately they didn’t always go into areas Rigel wanted or needed to go, and the centuries of neglect formed dust bunnies you wouldn’t believe; but tonight they served their purpose.
He reached a junction and followed the path that took him straight up into the heavens.
It was a dizzying crawl up a vertical duct with pony-hoofed sized treads cut into the cold stone, then a few metres across before the phantom found himself in the ceiling cavity of Princess Luna’s private tower. Being the more reclusive of the two princesses, her bedroom was in the highest tower secluded from the rest of the palace.
Luna’s room had a flat ceiling, as opposed to the conical shaped roof of the tower which meant Rigel had plenty of space to manoeuvre up there. He just moved carefully, shifted his weight slowly and quietly so the princess wouldn’t suspect rats in the attic. Then slowly, millimetre-by-millimetre he lifted up one of the loose tiles in the middle of the ceiling.
His cam-rifle’s barrel held the tile open and he sighted thought he view-finder, angling the lens so he was looking down at Luna’s bed. It was a round model, quite like Celestia’s decorated with star patterns on the sheets.
The bedroom door swung open and in trotted the princess herself. Being Celestia’s little sister, the alicorn was distinctly shorter than the taller princess of the sun. But Luna still had the graceful, sexy build of an alicorn princess.
Rigel double took on the thought. Realising he was describing a pony as ‘sexy’ he figured his sanity had finally broken.
Regardless, he had a job to finish. And thankfully Luna didn’t tease. She had no ceremony like her older sister, or any other pony Rigel had spied on for that matter. She didn’t bother double checking the locks on her door or windows. She didn’t go for the box of toys or bottles of exotic lotion under the bed. This gal didn’t play around the least.
She kicked off her slippers and other regalia on her trot towards the bed, and her light blue mane fell in wavy strands around her neck as she threw herself into the soft cushions. Within an instant she had rolled onto her back and shamelessly spread her legs like a cheap whore trying to get to pay-day as quickly as physically possible.
There was no foreplay, no work up. Immediately Luna laid hooves on herself, starting around her chest and belly, stroking in quick but sensual circles before she slowly inched down to her…
“Ooooooh~!”
… well, I think you get the picture.
The thick, prickly musk of cordite filled the firing range in the aftermath of Tex’s shoot. Having sufficiently gone to town on a target a hundred metres across the hollow chamber, filling a cardboard cutout of Tirek with holes, the phantom put down his rifle and removed his hearing-protection with a wicked smile.
“Ya’ think I got him?” Tex chuckled as he turned to his friends.
The rest of Foxtrot Team were gathered around sat on the stacks of ammo boxes and supply crates littering the room. Deep beneath the Castle of the Two Sisters, nestled within the spooky confines of the Everfree Forest, Phantom HQ lay concealed in the web of underground tunnels and chambers. One such chamber had been refitted to house a small private armoury with enough ammunition to liberate a small country.
But since the phantoms were photographers , nobody could quite figure out why.
Jared just counted his blessings that they were deep underground enough that any shooting practice couldn’t be heard by the pony population even if they were visiting the old castle.
Removing his own hearing-pro, the young human chuckled. “Any why exactly do we have a shooting range on base?”
“Tex really wanted one,” Crispy explained, only half paying attention as he was reading a comic book. “And we all know, if you wish hard enough, corporate will deliver.”
“It also helps that Rigel is our friend and that his brother owns the company that signs our paycheques,” Foxy-ac clarified. “Tex asked for a shooting range and he received. Crispy wanted a blow-up doll, now he isn’t so lonely every night.
Jared’s gaze shifted across at Crispy as he snorted offended into his comic.
“Karamel isn’t some blow up hussy. She’s a Real-Doll; a classy lady.”
Clearing his throat, Jared shifted his seat to increase the distance between them slightly.
“Point is,” Foxy-ac continued as he assembled the parts of a pistol laid on the crate in front of him, “If you need something all you have to do is ask. And if the regular procurement chain takes too long, just ask Rigel. He’ll sort you out.”
“How about some more invisibility cloaks. Can he sort us out with those?” Jared asked.
The rest of Foxtrot Team roared with laughter.
“So corporate can spring for firing ranges, armouries and Real-Dolls, but not for actual mission critical equipment that we need?”
Crispy snapped his book shut to watch Tex push rounds into a magazine for another shoot. “Here’s some general retardation you don’t often hear about. Why the fuck are we even out here filming the slice-of-life adventures of alien ponies? Wouldn’t it be more cost effective to just animate the fucking show instead of racking up a whopping credit-card bill on hyperspace gates, invisibility cloaks and covert-ops cameramen? Hey, Tex, you need another target?”
Tex had finished loading a mag and was reeling in the obliterated target so he could replace it. As he nodded, Crispy held up two fresh cardboard cutouts they’d prepared earlier.
“Nightmare Moon or Cheese-Feet Mc-Fuckin-Bitch?”
“Gimme Chrysalis,” Tex said, taking the cutout of the changeling queen and hanging it in Tirek’s place. “She’s been a naughty girl ‘n needs to take her punishment.”
“Tex hates changelings,” Crispy explained as they donned their hearing-protection again. “Says something about them reminds him of close encounters of the fourth kind. I think it’s a butt-thing.”
Speaking of ‘butt-things,’ Princess Luna had moved onto a butt-thing as her furious pre-sleep session developed quickly.
Over the course of her vigorous workings, ceiling-human watched Luna masturbate nerly every orifice in ten seconds flat.This was possibly the shortest photo-op Rigel had ever been assigned. In a matter of moments her swollen labia parted with moisture drilling down to her ass where a free hoof already slick with saliva eagerly rubbed and prodded, encouraged by her leaking arousal.
The sloppy, wet sounds of Luna’s motions carried up to the mic embedded in Rigel’s cam-rifle, recording the entire experience in full. Luna didn’t make any other sounds though, other than her heavy breathing that quickened with the pace of her hooves’ ministrations.
Her nether lips were spread wide to make space for her hoof as it made feverish circular motions over the precious little sensitive nub of flesh just above her slick opening. Her muscles were in constant contractions, the little pucker of pink flesh usually hidden with her dark blue fur winking excitedly.
Biting her lip and blushing, Luna suddenly threw her head back and Rigel knew what was coming next. He figured if he was insane already anyway, he might as well have a little fun with his job.
As she came, Rigel was fast enough to pull out his phone and snap a selfie with the princess in frame, doing his best to mimic her serene expression but failing with comical results.
Below, Luna screamed with joy, her hips bucking and trembling as a jet of her juices squirted through the gap between her hoof and her silky sweet-spot. Her mouth was agape as she stared into space, her cheeks going a light shade of pink as she slowly, panting, came down from an electric high.
She let out a breath so hot it misted, and Rigel was pretty sure the temperature in the room had dropped a few degrees, like she’d drawn all the heat of the chamber into herself.
Then, like ejaculating hard enough to leave a five inch long wet stain on the mattress was nothing but another thing, Luna rolled over, pulled her blankets over herself and fell asleep, still smiling and still blushing.
Rigel blinked, staring for at least a few minutes before he checked his watch. In total, Luna had worked herself up and finished herself off in two minutes flat.
“Fuckin’ hell. That’s gotta be some kind of record,” Rigel whispered disbelievingly. He only wished his ex-girlfriends were so easy to please. Maybe if they were they wouldn’t be exes.
Lowering the ceiling tile into place and letting Luna sleep, Rigel yawned and packed up his gear. He was eager to get back to Phantom HQ and catch some winks. These late nights were really getting to him. He was practically dreaming of a shower followed by hot chicken soup, cold beer and a soft bed as he clambered down through the cavities and tunnels leading towards his exit.
The tunnels stretched on, and before Rigel knew it he’d delved deep into the ceiling cavities of the castle without bothering to check his map. So it was no surprise when he dreamily blinked away the fantasies of food drink and cushions that he found himself staring at a dead end.
“Huh?” Rigel pulled a face, rolled on his back and looked the way he had come. “Well that can’t be right. Where the fuck am-…”
He was interrupted by a crackling. It sounded like crumbling stone, like thin slates taking on too much weight. He could feel the ceiling tiles sag under his weight, and then heard the pronounced crack of a support beam weathered and weakened by time.
“Uh-oh.”
The ceiling fell away under him and Rigel plummeted through a vortex of blinding dust and choking debris.
His landing was soft enough though as he hit what felt like a couch. The legs buckled and the cushions popped adding feathers to the clouds of dust filling the room, but his fall had been broken at least.
Rigel was about to be thankful for having landed on something soft, but all sense of relief faded when the phantom saw it lurking through the clouds of dust and feathers. White fur, a cloudy mane with all the colours of summer and two gorgeous light magenta eyes turning to look directly at him…
View Online
"Out of the Frying Pan" - Princess Celestia / Foxtrot-12
“Out of the Frying Pan…”
Laying on the wrecked couch, surrounded by debris and nose-to-nose with Celestia, Rigel knew full well he was thoroughly fucked. And nothing he could say would un-fuck him; so he made the most of it.
“This isn’t where I parked my car!”
To his credit, Rigel made it off the couch before Princess Celestia’s magic caught him and forced the phantom into the cushions again.
In a panic the alicorn tore strips of fabric from the couch’s backrest with her magic and in the blink of an eye bound Rigel’s wrists and ankles together, keeping his arms suspended above his head. He was immediately stuck in place staring at the grand white pony now looming over him with a manic smile.
“Gotcha!” the princess shouted proudly like she’d finally caught he filly running circles around her in a game of tag.
“I guess I’m it now? Good game. Now you run and I’ll chase.” It didn’t work, exactly as Rigel expected, but he wasn’t one to not try.
“I knew there was an invisible creature sneaking around the palace,” Celestia stated as she pinned her hooves into the couch either side of Rigel’s body.
She was practically straddling him, staring into the phantom’s goggles and trying to figure out what he was. At least… he hoped she was trying to just figure out what he was and not doing anything else. Although the way she dropped her lower body against his and was gently grinding back and forth made it abundantly clear she was thinking about other things rather than his identity.
“You’ve been watching me.”
Rigel gulped. “Well, not you specifically. And not twenty-four-seven if that’s any comfort.”
“Ohhh… that’s a pity.” There was an unreadable kind of fire in Celestia’s eyes Rigel had never seen before. And he didn’t much like it. “The idea was starting to turn me on.”
“Well that’s… uh… wait what?” Rigel was frozen as he looked Celestia up and down.
He’d been expecting her to tie him up and what not should he ever be caught. But this was rather strange. He’d never expected to be pinned underneath the alicorn with her breathing hard down his throat. What was up with that anyway?
On top of all that she looked different. Her eyes were wider, as was her usually calm motherly smile. Her expression had turned perversely manic, and her mane didn’t waver the same way it usually did. Instead of glowing like a cloud of summer colours, her mane and tail hung more like regular hair with a light shade of pink showing through.
“At least I have you now,” Celestia whispered as she lowered her face into Rigel’s neck.
It tickled in the creepiest possible way as she nuzzled her way up and down, breathing in his scent deeply. To make it worse she ran her tongue all the way across Rigel’s cheek causing him to shiver.
“Aww, yuck! C’mon!”
Celestia ignored him, savouring the taste and smell. “Ohh, you smell like the Everfree Forest. Is that where you’re from?”
Rigel didn’t answer, fearing Libby more than he feared this oestrus driven pony.
“What are you anyway? What do I call you?”
For some strange reason that escaped his immediate comprehension, Rigel’s first instinct was to run around the place flapping his arms like a maniac while yelling; ‘I’m a vampire, I’m a vampire!’
Thankfully he didn’t follow his instinct and let common sense prevail.
“I’m a phantom,” the human replied simply.
Technically he wasn’t lying, and it wouldn’t mean much to her anyway.
“Well, my delicious little Phantom. What brings you to my room at such a late hour?”
“Just thought I’d drop in, y’know? Introduce myself.”
Celestia gave a smirk, running one hoof over the human’s lips. “You’ve got a smart mouth. I should try and put it to better use.”
Rigel scoffed at the dirty suggestion in the princess’ voice. “Oh, you know what you can suck, ‘ya freak.”
Her smile confirmed that she knew exactly. “That sounds like a good idea.”
Rigel’s eyes widened wondering if this was going good or horribly wrong.
Normally speaking Rigel wouldn’t hesitate to PLF a female eager to let him in like that. But this was a little more complicated than the hussies he’d hit on at the ol’ watering hole back home on Earth.
Firstly; she was a friggin’ horse.
Secondly; SHE WAS A FRIGGIN’ HORSE!!!
Thirdly – and this was the important one – the mare shot napalm out her snatch when she creamed! And that essentially means any kind of sexual contact would end in (try to follow along because the science gets pretty complicated here) Rigel’s junk being burned off.
Celestia slid down his body slowly, her hooves busying themselves with his belt and zipper. She spoke as she worked in a low sultry tone more suited to a young porn actress than a motherly goddess of the sun.
“I have been fantasising about this for quite a while now,” she whispered popping open the button on his pants.
“Good for you.”
“In my fantasy there was some foreplay,” Celestia described flirtatiously. “Unfortunately our time may be precious. I hope you don’t mind if we keep it short.”
“Why would I mind? I’m not consenting to anything here.”
“Try not to cum too quick though. I do want to have my fill.”
“Well… shit. No pressure then.” Rigel wiggled to check if there was any play in his bonds. There was not, and the golden glow of Celestia’s magic was keeping him pinned, as if her weight couldn’t. “Oh, hey! I got an idea! Why don’t we not do this?”
“Because you are already ready for it.”
The human coughed disbelievingly. “Bullshit!”
Looking down, Rigel had barely enough time to register seeing the golden glow of Celestia’s magic and his pants gathered around his ankles like restraints. Three guesses as to who had woken up.
“Traitor,” the human seethed at his crotch.
Celestia unwrapped his shorts like she was unwrapping a Christmas present. That is to say, she tore off the clothing as quickly as possible and stared with surprise at his alien anatomy.
Not much liking the way she was looking at him, Rigel said, “What? Not big enough for ‘ya?”
“It’s… it’s…”
“Well?”
“It’s perfect.”
Rigel deadpanned. “What?”
“Oh, it’s just the right size,” Celestia crooned, very carefully touching the human penis like it was a rod of uranium. She testily played with it for a moment, watched how it bobbed and felt his pulse trapping it between her forehooves. All the time her nose was close enough for Rigel to feel her hot breath wash over him. She even took a few sniffs as if testing a perfume. “I bet it would fit perfectly.”
Rigel doubted that, not that he’d ever had any complaints with the ladies back home (other than being an asshole). He just figured since Celestia was a horse and all his human anatomy would be a little inadequate. So either Celestia was being her usual kind self, or she was plain crazy.
His money was on the latter.
After a while Rigel grew sick of Celestia’s playful batting and pawing. “Well? You gonna do it or you just gonna talk about it all day?”
The princess licked her lips, unsure for a moment. “I’m gonna do it.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it.”
“Give me a moment!”
“What, you never done this before?”
“I am a princess.”
“I’m assuming that means no.” Rigel sighed with a little relief and let his head rest back. “You’re not gonna do anything. I’ve seen your type before, all big on the talk and then when it comes to doing the deed you flutter away shyl-CHINKIES!”
Rigel’s whole body reacted almost violently as he felt a hot wet tunnel engulf his most sensitive parts. A tongue slicked his length all the way from the head right down to the base before her lips clamped down to secure an air-tight seal. What followed was a light suction as Rigel looked down with surprise and panic.
The view of his throbbing erection was replaced with the top of Celestia’s head. Her eyes were shut with focus as she began bobbing up and down, raking her wet lips over his length and at the same time being mindful not to stab her pet in the gut with her horn.
She went on like that for a while before lifting her head until she was just suckling the tip like a lollipop. Opening her eyes she let his member flick from her lips with a wet pop, then smiled.
“How do you like me now?” Celestia smirked naughtily.
Rigel gulped trying to keep a straight face as her hoof continued to massage up and down his shaft. “H-h-hah! Th-that a-all you g-g-got?”
Rigel wished he hadn’t asked, because Celestia took it as a challenge – she ran her tongue from the base of his erection all the way up at a snail’s pace before she swirled the head, then engulfed the whole thing in one gulp again.
The human twitched and pulled a face like he was being electrocuted. Just like before Celestia practically worked him like a puppet. He was helpless against her assault of licks and slurps. And after just a few minutes of her merciless ministrations Rigel could feel something building up. Something he ashamed to admit he was beginning to enjoy.
“O-o-oh-kay! I-I give! I surrender!” he squirmed trying to wriggle free, but only succeeded in thrusting his hips to meet the bob of her head. He felt her bottom out as he poked the back of her throat, but instead of retreating Celestia swallowed, massaging the head for a moment before gagging and continuing happily. “F-f-fuck woman! You never heard of the Geneva Convention?” Though Rigel couldn’t help but think this was a little better than waterboarding.
Then she did the worst thing imaginable.
She opened her eyes and locked her gorgeous magenta eyes with his.
Rigel stiffened and clenched as hard as he could, but he was only postponing the inevitable. “Oh, Christ; I can see the music.”
He released a second later, unloading ropes of thick alien semen into the alicorn’s mouth. Celestia didn’t bat an eyelid though. For a girl who was doing this for the first time Rigel was surprised she wasn’t a little more grossed out.
Only instead of running to the bathroom to throw up the princess lapped it all up and swallowed wave after wave. Even the little that escaped out the corner of her mouth and drooled down Rigel’s shaft; she scooped it up with her tongue and like a good girl cleaned up after herself.
The human was speechless for a moment as Celestia hummed contingently and smacked her lips.
“Mmmm. I needed that tasty treat.”
Rigel frowned. “Yeah, it shows.”
While Celestia had been enjoying herself she hadn’t noticed how her new favourite toy was receding. By the time she realised Rigel had softened down to a deceptively pathetic puniness. The princess immediately shot him a miffed glare.
“Hey. What are you doing?”
“Oh, you think any of this is voluntary?” Rigel cried incrudiously.
“I haven’t had my fun yet.” She tried rubbing his flaccid appendage with her hooves and licking it back to life, but other than elicit a ticklish giggle from Rigel, it didn’t move or harden. “That’s not fair!”
Rigel grinned quite proud of himself for one upping the princess intent on raping him. “Life ain’t fair, Sunshine. Suck it up… wait, you just did. Nevermind!”
Several more minutes passed of Celestia trying everything in her power to arouse the human under her but nothing worked. Eventually Rigel squirmed and asked her to stop hurting him.
“That’s it?” Celestia cried with obvious disdain. “You’re a super mysterious, athletic, young stud of an alien and that’s it !?”
“Whoa, hey. I never said I was any of that. You made that shit up in your own head.”
Through gritted teeth Celestia seethed; “What kind of phantom are you!?”
“One that hasn’t been laid in almost a year only to be raped by a fucking horse! That’s the kind of phantom I am, apparently.”
Sighing Celestia calmed and centred herself. “That won’t do. Not to worry. I have potions and ointments to remedy this exact kind of problem.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna rain-cheque on that.”
Celestia didn’t give him much of a choice. Releasing him from her magic she dropped him in the couch and slid off his lap. Turning she trotted over to a dresser on the far side of the room to search for something. Rigel in the meantime lunged for his tac-vest.
His hands and legs were still bound, but he could reach the front pockets at least and quickly found his multi-tool. Flicking open the serrated blade he started sawing at the binds on his ankles first.
Celestia’s rummaging stopped eliciting a look from the human. She hadn’t turned to catch him escaping yet, busy levitating a large dong shaped to simulate draconic anatomy out of a drawer. His eyes widening, Rigel returned to sawing more frantically now.
“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck…”
In the meantime Princess Celestia was engrossed in her task. Placing aside her various toys and lotions she finally levitated a large bulb-shaped bottle full of light blue liquid. The powerful Everfree aphrodisiac swirled like liquid fire inside the bottle and made Celestia smile. She hadn’t used it in years, but remembered the fun from her younger filly days.
“This will do nicely,” she said turning. “Are you ready for the night of your life… Phantom?”
She turned to face an empty couch with the binds she’d used to restrain Rigel laying on the floor. She just about caught her bedroom door slamming shut as the human slipped out.
“Darnit!” Celestia cursed giving chase.
By the time she exited her bedroom Rigel was down the hall doing up his belt while prying open another room to duck into. He lifted his eyes from the door handle and spotted the frantic princess charging her horn with energy.
“Come back here! You still owe me at least for breaking my couch!” she cried unleashing a stunning bolt of magic.
Rigel flattened himself against the wall and the bolt of magic sizzled past and out an open window only to zap an unsuspecting bird.
“Fuck your couch, Sunshine!” Rigel shouted back. “Buy another one, ‘ya rich bitch!”
Slipping out of her line of fire, Rigel bolted the door behind him and looked around. He was in some sort of guest bedroom, the balcony doors hanging open ahead of him. He really didn’t want to do what he had to do next, but saw no other choice.
Taking a knee, Rigel double checked his gear. His backpack was zipped up, invisibility cloak safely rolled up inside. All his pockets were velcroed and buttoned shut. He secured his cam-rifle diagonally across his back, balancing it out as best as he could before he pulled a set of drawstrings from his hip-pockets.
As he did a magical force blew the door behind him off its hinges. The pile of crap metal and wood splinters slid to a halt at Rigel’s boots, and looking up he saw the frantic princess of molestation breathing heavily, glaring at him while levitating a bottle of liquid Viagra beside her.
She smiled realising she’d cornered him.
“Nowhere left to run. Now what, my little Pet?” she hummed proudly.
Rigel surprised her with his confident reply. “Cue the soundtrack!”
Whipping around Rigel sprinted out across the balcony, planted a foot on the banister and threw himself into the air. Celestia was stunned watching him go. One second he hung sprawled out in the air, flailing his arms and legs; the next he dropped out of view entirely.
“No!” Celestia cried, dropping the aphrodisiac and galloping forward with wings spread. Her sudden desire to make sure the phantom was unharmed overrode her desire to jump his bones.
She made it as far as the banister, planting one hoof in an attempt to leap after him when something suddenly rushed up through the air and cut her off. Celestia watched in amazement as her little phantom seemed to have sprouted a set of wings, suspended between his body and each arm as well as between his legs.
Gliding on his built-in wingsuit, Rigel angled to one side and fluttered out of view, diving down the valley over Ponyville and making a bee-line of the Everfree Forest canopy.
Celestia had him now though. She smiled wondering what he was thinking. Of course she could catch him in the air… and then she realised that maybe she shouldn’t.
She slowly folded her wings as she realised what she had done. First contact with another species and instead of start relations warmly she violated him? The heat between her legs prickled at her, but she managed to override the urge for attending her nether-region.
“What have I done?” she murmured before sombrely retreating to her chambers.
[>> F-fwd >> F-fwd >> F-fwd >>]
Back at Phantom HQ Jared was trying to keep his head down. Hard to do on any day because the facility was relatively small with a small staff. Most everybody knew each other and bumping into someone you’d rather not see was pretty much inevitable.
Unfortunately for Jared bad luck bumped into him.
“Stand fast, Foxtrot-Thirteen!” came the terse voice of his boss and the little marine in Jared forced him to freeze and stand to perfect attention.
Laura Benson, Phantom-Actual and otherwise known as Libby behind her back (or to her face when Foxtrot-12 was involved) was scarier than all the drill instructors Jared had put up with in boot camp. She had this calm, stone faced expression and deep, piercing, supernatural gaze that dug into your soul in such a way that made you want to do everything in your power to stay on this woman’s good side.
When she marched over to him Jared was surprised he hadn’t heard the click of her heels before the ambush. She must have been in stealth mode; the fact she was able to do that made her scarier.
“H-hey, boss… w’sup?” Jared asked, failing to sound casual.
Libby breezed past Jared ordering, “Walk with me,” as she did.
Swallowing Jared jogged to catch up and matched her brisk pace. Now he was going to get it. Phantom-Actual was going to yell at him in a terrifying passive-aggressive way and kick him off the Phantom Programme for compromising them on that debacle with Fluttershy. He’d been trying to avoid Libby for this very reason…
“I read Foxtrot-Actual’s report and gave the comms-logs a listen. Good work with Fluttershy,” she suddenly said.
Jared coughed. “Good work?”
“Is there something wrong?”
He shook his head, then reconsidered and nodded. “I was half expecting you to yell at me.”
“So that’s why you’ve been hard to find.” Halting outside the door leading into Phantom Control, Libby turned to face him. “You may have been compromised, but thanks to your quick thinking you haven’t compromised our presence on the planet. As far as the Equestria population is concerned there may just be a new creature called a Ghillie Dhu wandering around the Everfree Forest. Best case scenario Fluttershy convinces herself she just had a very wet dream.
“In fact, I’m toying with the idea of teaming you up with Foxtrot-Twelve and sending you in again to gather detailed footage of another encounter.”
Libby was impossible to read and Jared honestly couldn’t tell if she was being serious.
“Are you joking? I can’t tell if you’re joking.” He waved his hand over his face. “You’ve got one of those faces.”
Libby didn’t answer, and that in itself was more ominous than Jared could handle. She merely turned on her heel and moved through the control room’s sliding door.
“So I’m off the hook?” he called down after her.
“You were never on a hook,” Libby answered without even turning her head.
The door suddenly slammed shut in Jared’s face. “Well, that’s awesome.”
Backing up, Jared was about to head for his quarters for some shut-eye. It had been his original mission when Libby ambushed him. Trust officers to mess with mission parameters the way no enemy or bad planning could.
He was still relatively new to Phantom HQ and had to think a moment to orient himself. Eventually he found his way out of the operations command sector and headed through the rec-sector towards living section of the base.
He was pretty much on the threshold of his quarters when he noted something. Looking up and down the bare concrete corridor Jared noted the area was abandoned. He frowned and scratched his head. This was unusual, as mentioned before how most phantom personnel were sardine-canned into the headquarters. There was always someone somewhere in your path when crossing the base.
Even getting up at midnight to visit the bathroom Jared was guaranteed to bump into someone .
Not the case as he stood outside his room staring down the corridor. Jared couldn’t shake the feeling something was off. He wasn’t sure what it was but he figured it had something to do with a flash of unusual light down the hall.
His eyes caught the tail end of the flash as he turned his head. With a frown the man stepped off his room’s threshold and gingerly moved closer.
It happened again, bright enough this time to leave multi-coloured spots in his vision. Blinking, Jared quietly leaned around the doorframe and looked into the room the green lights were coming from.
The moment he looked in his eyes widened. “That’s less awesome.”
Green light filled his vision before it all went black…
Author's Note
This is slowly becoming less about clop, more about being plain silly.
