Gingy's Christmas Drabble Gift!

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8th December
Merry... *yawn* Christmas

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“Celestia Dammit.”

Soarin sighed as he looked at himself under the shower. The cool water spray washed over his mane, his blue coat, across his cutie mark... and ran down the very obviously female genitals that had replaced his member.

Soarin sighed again. Any stallion would have outright panicked to have found their stallionhood to have done a disappearing act, replaced with the complete opposite. However, Soarin had one hell of a hangover, and even though his mind was slowly recovering, he pretty much put the issue in the 'leave till later' folder in his brain.

That was, until Spitfire walked into the bathroom, blushing hevily at the cheeks, walking with a gait, and even though she tried to hide it, was sporting a rather sizeable orange erection that was visible behind her slender hindlegs.

“You too huh?” He said gravily, his throat sore from the... something last night. At spitfire's questioning expression, he turned around and displayed his current situation.

“It seems to be some variant of poison joke.” He said as he idly washed his mane. “It's a Sunday too so all the shops selling antidotes will be shut.” He rinsed his head under the water. “What do you th- Spitfire!” He squeaked as he felt a warm breeze of air across his nethers as Spitfire exhaled onto them, drinking in his scent. In her opinion, it smelt- and probably tasted -the same, but more... fruity?

“What?” She said sultrily as Soarin turned around, sporting a massive blush. “Just looking. Promise.” She batted her eyelids at him, drooping her muzzle slightly as she beat her wings gently, fanning a cool breeze towards Soarin.

“Not. Interested.” He said, getting back under the shower. However, the faint smell of arousal and the way Soarin's wings were slowly raising told a different story.

“Aww, why not?” Spitfire pouted, getting under the spray of the water next to him,and leaning a hoof back, gently caressing his crotch. Soarin went to protest, but bit his lip. His pussy folds started clenching for something more, something filling... And Spitfire was sporting a very adequate dick between her thighs.

Spitfire saw Soarin eyeing up her erection, giving a deep-throated chuckle. “Trust me, things for a mare will feel a lot more better.” She not-so-gently pushed down on Soarin's back after she turned him to face away from her. His forelegs buckled under him, giving Spitfire an unobstructed view of his dripping marehood.

“Mmm, getting excited already are we?” Spitfire purred, and Soarin only nodded and whimpered, his face down on the tiled floor, tail raised up on it's own accord. Spitfire, deciding to forgo foreplay, mounted Soarin's back; a slightly difficult feat, considering stallions were taller, but se managed, her forehooves around Soarin's midriff. The flared head of her cock pressed against his slick opening. By now the water had completely sodden both of them, supplying more than enough lubricant.

“Ready?” She asked, biting on the nape of Soarin's neck. She didn't wait for a reply, and shoved the entirely of her throbbing erection down Soarin's tight passage, her balls slapping his rump. Soarin let out a very high, very loud moan of approval, currently loving the feeling he was getting from the alien sensation.

Spitfire was enjoying it on her end too. “Fuck y-you're tight.” He gasped, feeling every inch of Soarin's delicious pussy wrapping around her cock. right, enough foaling around, time to fuck him senseless Gasping gently, she slowly pulled back, unaccustomed to the movements. Just before her medial ring left his folds, she slammed back in, driving home into Soarin and pulling another moan from his lips.

“You like that? Slut?” She gave another thrust, emphasising the point.

“F-Fuck yes!” Soarin whinnied, urging Spitfire to go faster. She obliged, finally getting into a steady rhythm, ploughing into his backside,

Both of them rode the orgasmic, alien sensations. Least to say, neither of them would last particularly long.

“Spitty!” Soarin moaned. “Im gonna...!” She understood his meaning, picking up the pace. Soarin's little blue ass lifted off the tiles with each thrust, pushing them over the edge...

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They both lay there, panting. They'd gone another two times yet, and still hadn't left the shower; they lay on the tiled floor, wrapped in the other's embrace.

And they had the whole day to themselves.