“More wine?”
Coated in yellow, the wine bottle floats into your line of sight, then softly shakes from left to right. Smiling, you hold your glass out for a refill.
“Honestly, Princess: I swear you’re trying to get me drunk.”
Celestia giggles to herself as she tops you back up.
“You’d be doing a fine enough job of that yourself, Anonymous, with or without my help. And unlike last year, at least somepony will be around this time to supervise the inebriated you.”
Half-faking a wince, you chuckle to yourself. Rarity still hasn’t entirely forgiven you for what you did to her roof.
Pulling your arm back, you swirl the wine around a bit before pouring it straight down your throat. Still as horrible as ever: ponies don’t really seem to grasp most of the concepts behind making wine, like dryness, body and not tasting of piss.
Ah well. You’re not exactly drinking it for the quality.
Sitting opposite you – on a plump red cushion as opposed to your padded armchair – Celestia sips from her glass daintily, every inch the composed princess. The room behind her's a tidy thing with only a few isolated areas of clutter: a wooden perch coated with ash, guano and bright-red feathers; a desk covered with slips of paper and half-unfurled scrolls; a bathrobe hung in a flumped mess onto a golden door-knob.
And you, a hairy ape dressed in ill-fitting clothing, slouched into an armchair moved specifically up to the personal quarters of Princess Celestia herself so that she’d be better able to help you get through the anniversary of your arrival to Equestria.
You swear you don’t deserve the friends you have here. Unfortunately, they don’t quite seem to agree.
The bottle clunks against your hand, pulling you back out of your thoughts.
“I thought we agreed that you were to be either talking or drinking?”
You look up. Celestia’s smiling calmly at you, though the look of worry in her eyes sends a stab of guilt into your gut.
“Right. Yeah, right – sorry.” You grab the bottle out of mid-air, the magic dispelling as soon as your hand touches it. You roll the bottleneck between your fingers for a few seconds before emptying the last of the wine into your glass.
Resting the bottle sideways on the floor, you lift the glass up in a toast. “Well, there goes drinking.”
“I suppose, then, that we will simply have to talk.”
She's smiling at you again. That damnably perfect smile. Waiting for you to say something to her.
But there’s nothing in your head right now that you want to give voice to, no ghosts you want to make more real through speaking out their names. You stay quiet.
”I was wondering – do you know when the Running of the Leaves is hosted in Ponyville this year? I can’t imagine it’s too many days till autumn, now.”
Blinking, you look up at her. She smiles back.
”I would send a letter to Princess Twilight, but seeing as you’re here, I might as well save Spike the trouble."
You’re no fool: you can spot someone throwing a conversational gambit your way when it's done, and a part of you's sad that it's needed.
But you’re also not fool enough to sit here marinating in spaghetti for the sake of your pride.
“Yeah, it’s… next Wednesday, I think. Yeah – Pinkie rented out the balloon for then; I can remembering her booking it through her microphone. And then there was Twilight training for the race with a green sweatband, and Rarity running after her, demanding she change it for a crown…”
You trail off with a chuckle. After a few seconds, Celestia takes over:
”I’ll see if I can manage to book a visit to Ponyville for Wednesday, then. Fall has always been one of my favorite seasons.”
This makes your eyebrow rise.
“Really? Fall? I’m not trying to typecast you or anything, but I just assumed… Well…”
You wave your hand around the room, trying to gesture simultaneously at every solar fresco and banner of a white alicorn next to a sun you can.
”That I would prefer summer?” You nod.
“Or spring, I guess. One of the more sunnier seasons than autumn, anyway.”
”I can understand why you’d think that, but both spring and summer come with… regrets attached to them.”
You frown, wet your lips a little and then look down at the wine. Only half-an-inch left: barely a quarter of the glass.
What the hell. You gulp it down for courage.
“Okay. Summer, I get: I wouldn’t be your friend if I couldn’t figure out why you might have something to regret associated with summer. I mean, I’ve met Luna for Pete’s sake. I know what the banishment meant to both of you.
“But spring? Spring I don’t get. I can’t think of many reasons why you’d prefer fall over spring, and I can’t think of any at all for why you’d associate the season with regret.”
Celestia’s smile has gone. Not that she’s frowning at you, or looks in any way angry, but she does look a little bit more attentive than she did before.
”The wine has made you bold, I see.”
You wink. ”More fool the pony, then, who choose to supervise the inebriated me.”
That gets a laugh out of her. “More fool me indeed. Forgive me, but I’m going to need a few moments to properly compose a reply.”
Her wineglass floats up to her face. She inspects it for a few seconds before slowly emptying it into her mouth. Her face is tinged pink by the time she’s finished, but her magical grip on the glass is as steady as ever.
Carefully, she lowers it down, settling it on the floor.
”There. Now neither of us is suited to supervise the other. And I have decided that, perhaps, I should not be the one doing all of the talking here tonight. If you want to hear what reason I have to regret spring, then you must first of all tell me what reason you have to regret being in Equestria.”
You blink. “Er, forgive me, Princess, but I would have thought that was pretty fucking obvious. I mean, I’m happy living here, yes, but I lost everything four years ago today. I lost my friends, I lost my family, my life… Everything. I lost everything.”
She regards you coolly. “And in those four years, you have made a life. You have made more friends than I am certain you know what to do with. And, I dare say you have made a family for yourself.” She sighs. “I am not saying that what you’ve made replaces what was lost, but I of all ponies know that the connections we make help soothe the pain of the ones we have to leave behind.
”And yet, if anything, each year you get more dour. You turn inwards more and more. For your first year, you barely even marked the occasion. For your second, you shut yourself away for the day. For your third, your drunken escapades terrorised half of Ponyville. And for the fourth... Well, today I have watched as one of my greatest friends lets something dark eat away inside of him.
”Something is wrong, Anonymous, and it is not something that is going away. Something that I don’t think is quite as obvious as you think it is; and I also think it would be better to air it than to leave it to rot."
You flex your hand, forming a fist only to break it seconds later.
Her words practically ring inside your head.
Is that… Are you really…
You study the ceiling as your mind spins back.
Back over the years.
Back over the rising sense of despair and hopelessness.
Back over every single instance of jealousy you’ve ever had whilst in Equestria, and back to just what it is you’re jealous over.
You blow out.
She’s right.
Anger gone, you glance over to Celestia. “You’re good.”
She giggles. “One does not get to be the ruler of Equestria for a thousand years by merely being ‘good’, Anonymous. I think you will find that I–” She breaks off here to draw herself up, posturing a little “–am great.”
You laugh along with her. “You’re drunk is what you are.”
She laughs back, crown shaking on her forehead and mane undulating softly in an absent-breeze.
You collect yourself.
“Okay. Look, I… Things back on Earth aren’t quite like they are here in Equestria. People have expectations for how you’re meant to act and what you’re meant to want. And guys are meant to want to have sex without really wanting to have the… final outcome of that sex. There’s all these stories about how a guy gets the girl pregnant and then runs away because guys aren’t meant to want kids.
“I wanted to have kids. Like, really wanted to have kids. As in, when my friends starting making chicken noises at me, it wasn’t always because I was being a coward.”
”That can’t be right,” Celestia interrupts. “A society that actively discriminated against having children would end up destroying itself.”
You nod. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It’s not really a sort of no-kids stance so much as that… you shouldn’t want them while you’re still young, I guess? And I… I went along with it. I told myself that there’d be time in the future, that I could wait before saddling myself with the responsibility. And then…”
You hold up your hands and gesture around you. “Only one of my kind. Fate decided that going along with what I’d planned was too simple. And today? Today reminds me of that."
Celestia’s cheek lifts slightly as she chews on a lip. Calm, purple eyes meet yours.
“Have you considered adoption?”
“Yeah. Wouldn’t be the same. I want it to actually be my kid, y’know? So unless another human falls out of nowhere, and that human happens to be a woman, I’m pretty much… What?”
The smile on Celestia’s face is strong enough to cut semicircles into the bottom of her eyes.
“No, seriously, what is it?”
”Anonymous, are you aware that it is entirely possible for a non-pony to have a child with a pony?”
“I… No, hang on, that’s not how genetics works–”
”In your world, perhaps, but, as you are so fond of telling me, your sun doesn’t need to be reminded of what it’s orbiting at the start of each day as does ours. Our worlds do not work in quite the same way, Anonymous. You could be a father yet.”
There’s a rising bubble of hope inside your chest, set free by the loosening of four years worth of regret. And like an idiot, you start looking for any reason to try and pop it.
“But… What would the child even look like? Would it be bits of pony stuck together with bits of human, or like half-human half-pony, or worse? Would I just be bringing in some horrible abomination into the world or what?”
”I’m not sure. Do you consider pegasi and unicorns to be abominations compared to earth ponies?”
You blink, caught off guard.
Did not see that coming.
“Well, no, but… Okay, just…” You can’t find the problem here – or at least, you can’t find a reason not to try. “... I could be a father?”
Celestia, beaming, nods at you, cheeks still a slight pink. “Yes.”
You sit there, silent, letting the thought sink in. “I could be a father.”
Your hand rises and cups your chin, palm covering off your mouth. You find you can’t stop smiling.
”So I take it next year’s anniversary isn’t going to be quite so unhappy an occasion?”
Celestia’s got a knowing look going on, and her grin is wide across her face. A large part of you wants to hug this incredible, amazing horse.
Princess. Pony. Person. Whatever: you get up and do it, burying your face into her coat and squeezing her tightly. She feels thinner than most ponies – which makes sense, seeing as she’s a svelte shape when compared to their cuddly chubbiness – and she shakes in your grip as she giggles.
“Thank you so much,” you mutter into her neck. “I’ve never felt this happy to be an idiot in all my life.”
”And I’ve never felt quite so happy to point out that you were being one. Truly though, Anonymous: you didn’t think to ask even once if there was any possibility…”
You pull out of the hug, then shrug. “Not really the sort of question you think about asking, if I’m being honest.”
You move back to your chair and slump down into it, smile still stuck onto your face.
“Okay, I think we’re done with me. Your turn.”
Still smiling, Celestia huffs out a sigh.
”I’m afraid this is going to sound terribly like a variation on a theme. You see, being what I am is not without some small cost. Alicorns are not born, but made, and as of such, the magic that has preserved my body for over a thousand years is rather… averse to any type of physical change.”
Celestia looks down, her mouth open and her tongue running over the bottom of her teeth. “Most die in the womb. The experience is rather… painful.”
The joy inside you flatlines. “So you don’t like the spring because…”
”Because that is typically the period in which most ponies give birth, yes. And I am not most ponies.” Celestia’s eyes break away from yours. “I prefer to think of all the ponies of Equestria as being my children. It doesn’t remove the… regret, but it does lessen it somewhat.”
You’re silent for a couple of seconds, thoughts spinning round your head.
“But Shining and Cadence are both trying for a foal, right? And… Twilight’s definitely got bigger since she became an alicorn, I know it.”
”Both of whom are young alicorns, freshly come into their power. They haven’t quite finished growing, yet, and so the magic that preserves them hasn’t fully awakened. I am afraid it is much too late for both my sister and me.”
Wow.
Well that’s certainly cramped on your good mood.
Celestia is not looking the happiest pony right now, and you feel like the biggest jerk in the world because of it.
Only one thing to do.
Your second hug’s a longer thing, and this time, Celestia’s wings go into it, wrapping round your back and pressing her into you. You stroke her head as she nuzzles it into your chest, running your fingers between the ethereal strands and blurring the distinction between her blue hairs and her pink.
You don’t say anything. You don’t drink either, so you’re technically breaking the rules, but right now, you don’t much care.
She doesn’t cry, but a part of you thinks it’s touch and go for a few seconds.
Thoughts bubble up inside your head as you try and think of a way to fix this like she has for you.
Most of them are stupid.
Cake is probably not the right answer, here.
Neither is fetching Luna. Sure, the Princess of the Night might not be as motherly or caring as the Princess of the Day, but you’ve seen the way Luna acts around kids. One upset princess is a travesty; two is probably good grounds for a lifelong trip to the castle dungeons.
And then an even stupider idea floats to the surface of your brain.
You really shouldn’t say this one.
Unfortunately, there is alcohol in your system, and you are currently the same Anon who thought turning the roof of Carousel Boutique into an actual carousel was the greatest idea you’ve ever had.
“Y’know, magic doesn’t work on humans.”
Celestia stiffens.
You start to think stupidest idea was probably an understatement.
”No,” she murmurs, voice hushed by the fact her mouth’s pointed towards your elbow. “No, it doesn’t, does it.”
There’s another pause. Your hand still moves through her mane, and you start to wonder if that’s still a good idea.
”And I suppose that, say, a child between a human and a pony might just happen to… inherit that ability. And so... I suppose a child of such a pairing might well survive where others wouldn’t.”
You take a deep breath, chest rising up with air until you dispel it. Your head’s still slightly fogged with wine, but you’re pretty certain you know what it is you need to do.
And there’s no time like the present.
“So. Is this the part where we have sex?”
Celestia explodes against your chest.
Not literally: she’s just laughing far too hard.
Her wings quiver slightly and then fold away from you, tucking back into her sides. Then she pulls away, hoof clamped over her mouth and crown askew atop her head.
“You truly have no shame, Anonymous.”
Her voice still sounds like it’s laughing, all rich and giggly.
Mission: Cheering up Celestia.
Status: Achieved.
You grin back. “Well, it was either that or an hour of the two of us dancing round the topic through a variety of ‘I suppose’es.”
She giggles again, and everything suddenly feels right with the world. ”I suppose.”
You look her in the eyes while you wait for her to calm down. It’s stupid, but you always forget just what shade of purple they are. You’re always thinking they’re darker.
They’re bright right now, closer to pink than magenta.
“So.”
She nods, loose mane hairs tumbling round her face.
“So indeed.”
“Question of the hour: do we, or don’t we?”
She looks down, breaking the eye contact. Her eyes comb across your body like a drill sergeant’s on a recruit’s, sharp and powerful enough that you can almost imagine every inch of clothing peeling away under them.
”Anonymous, even if you weren’t my only option – and it has yet to be seen that our supposes come to anything…”
She sighs once, and then gives a soft smile as her eyes re-find yours.
“I would be truly honoured to bring new life into this world with you.”
Something shifts inside your stomach lower down, and you realise you weren’t fully expecting her to say yes.
You’re nervous. Nervous as all hell.
“I… Look, there’s something I need to mention first.”
You hold out your hands, palms flat, and then flex the fingers before lowering them into your lap.
“I know that I’ve been here for… ages, really, but I’m not really… attracted to ponies. Sort of. Maybe.”
Celestia’s eyebrow is up. She clearly doesn’t believe you.
”And yet you spend so much time surrounding yourself with truly beautiful mares.”
Yep.
“Egotism isn’t attractive, Celestia, but…”
You break off again and make more hand movements. You’re certain it’s helping somehow.
“It’s like I’m eight years old again and just starting to think girls might be something other than infected with cooties. I mean, you can tell it looks good and you occasionally catch yourself staring without really knowing why–”
”Does it also feel all tingly lower down?”
Celestia’s got a right smug look up on her face.
Time to get rid of that.
You make eye contact. “When I look at you? Yeah, it gets ‘all tingly lower down’.”
Three…
Two…
She blushes, and looks away.
Success has been achieved.
You reach out and place a hand against her head. Her coat’s soft, more fuzzy skin than fur, and it feels like smooth silk as you rub your thumb across her cheek.
She looks back, softly smiling. And even though Celestia’s always smiling – it’s rare to see her not – this one feels different. New.
You like it.
”I think this is ‘the part’ indeed, Anonymous.”
“Well… I suppose there is a bed, like… right over there.”
The two of you turn to look at it. It is indeed right over there.
“Philomena won’t be back until sunrise, and my sister won’t disturb us until then either. The only true problem we face is that I’m not… in season.”
What?
Oh.
OH.
Disappointment and relief struggle inside of you, one coming from below and the other from on high.
”But I don’t suppose there’s any reason we couldn’t… practice.”
Your mouth feels dry.
You wish you had more wine.
You look back to Celestia and try to connect with your inner horsefucker.
She’s… white.
Excellently noticed.
Good job, 10/10, everyone go home.
No, wait. White’s wrong.
She’s more like the inside of an oyster shell: white and creamy, yes, but with that little bit of an extra sheen to it that heightens everything else, that completes it and helps to make it just that little bit… more. As if she’s only one pigment tilted away from pearl.
Then there’s her shape: from the tips of her ears – pricked forwards at the moment as she watches you watching her – over to the curve of her rump and then down along the smoothness of her legs. Most ponies are rounded outwards like they had too much stuffed inside them, but Celestia’s curved – a convex to their concave.
But it doesn’t make her look thin or underfed, just more womanly. Human womanly.
You realise Celestia’s probably the closest approximation you’re going to find towards a human female shape in Equestria.
Hell, if you squint, that’s almost an hourglass. Sort of.
You move onto her face.
Onto those eyes, deep and beautiful. Kinda baffled at the moment as to just why it is you’re staring, yes, but there’s patience in there too.
That smile. That perfect, horrible, painted-on smile that’s far too poised to be real. A smile that, right now, simply doesn’t exist.
This one’s real, unrestrained and unmeasured. You get the feeling it’s like a candle in the dark, that it could go out at any second, and that feeling just makes it all the more precious. You want to see more of this smile and far, far less of the other.
You try and hold all of this inside your head at the same time, try and gather all of the ‘unf’ qualities of Celestia into one single, internal place.
Your eyes drift down to her backside, and you imagine yourself back there. Doing stuff.
And then it happens.
It’s not that she becomes beautiful – she was always beautiful, but she was beautiful in the same way a mountain or a painting might be beautiful. You could look at it forever without wanting to fuck it.
Now, though – now your pants are tightening.
Your hand’s still on her cheek, and your thumb’s still gliding over her face.
Perfect.
You kiss the girl.
She’s moving forwards before you’ve reached her, so first contact’s a bit muddled; fortunately, you don’t bang teeth off each other, but there is a pause as you each get your mouths into arrangement.
Her breath feels hot against your face – warm like sunlight. You lean forwards and brush lips, half-press them open and then release, moving back.
She follows you, locking lips and sliding your mouth open. You rub your hand up and along her face, fingers tucking into her inner ear and thumb tracing the curvature of her cheekbones.
Suddenly, something sharp and cold presses against your cheek.
“Jesus!” You move back, breaking the kiss, to see Celestia’s hoof up against your shoulder.
“What’s the matter?” You nod down at her golden horseshoe.
“That. I wasn’t expecting it to be so cold.”
Celestia sniggers. “I’d completely forgotten I was wearing that. Sorry.”
She frowns. Nothing happens.
“I don’t understand… My magic isn’t–”
You drum your fingers lightly against the side of her face.
”Ah.”
You slide your hand down and over to her hoof, taking a firm hold onto the metal. She pulls her leg away, and the hoof pops out, white and smooth.
She lifts it up and rubs it against your face. It’s surprisingly soft: still hard, but like the feel of a palm against your cheek.
You drop the horseshoe out of your hand. Moments later, your brain twigs when there’s no expected clatter. You look down to find the pointy end has impaled itself into Celestia’s cushion.
She’s laughing again. You join in, leaning forwards so that your forehead touches hers. She pushes back, nuzzling.
“Perhaps we shouldn’t have made it so we both need supervision after all.”
”Hmm,” she coos. Her face rubs gently against yours, soft and fuzzy.
“Okay. Okay, I’ve got this. Hold on.”
You pull away. Celestia straightens before you, pulling herself up, wild smile still on her face and her cheeks tinted pink.
You reach out and take ahold of her crooked crown, sliding hairs out of it and gently lifting it off her head.
You’re just beginning to form a comment about how different she looks without it on when Celestia darts between your arms and plants her mouth over yours.
Her tongue worms between your lips and opens up your mouth for hers to play with. Her lips are gentle, soft, wet. You can taste the wine on her, smell it on her breath, and somehow, you no longer mind the taste.
She breaks off, leaving wet kisses as she glides below and around your chin.
“That is so cheating. I don’t even know what game we’re playing, but whatever it is, you’re cheating at it.”
Hot breath tickles at your neck as she chuckles. Coming back to your senses, you place her crown down over to one side and then start rubbing at her neck, tangling your fingers up in her mane.
Her kisses have lowered far enough that she’s found the clothesline. You can feel your shirt shift as she catches it with her teeth, tugging it up and over your head. Her hooves – one still shod in gold; the other bare – help your hand to pull it off.
She’s moved back to you before the shirt’s gone, lips sucking gently at your skin as if trying to slide it off. You open your eyes to see hers half-lidded and her white ears folded back.
Then she bites you.
It hurts.
“Ow! Jesus, Celestia, what?”
She pulls back, expression worried.
”Did that hurt? I’m so sorry, Anonymous, I thought you’d…” She looks away. “I’m an idiot. Of course your skin wouldn’t be as tough as a pony's: you have no hair.” She looks back. “I’m sorry, Anon, I should’ve been–”
“Tougher than mine, huh?” You’ve got a hand up and rubbing where she bit you; she hasn’t drawn blood, but the pain’s still fairly sharp. “I take it you like being bit, then?”
Her lips part, and she nods, slowly.
You lean forwards, hand leaving your shoulder to move over to hers. You rub her, gently, fingers tracing along the swirls of her coat before you move your head in fully.
And nip, teeth tugging at her skin as hard as you dare.
You hear a gasp from over your shoulder. A few more teeth-tugs cause her breathing rate to quicken.
“Rou… Round my mane…” she mumbles. You comply.
She elongates an M, stretching the syllable out, and it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard, all throaty and filled with pleasure.
Your hands find her golden necklace-thingy. You slide your fingers under it and lift, still kissing and nibbling round her head.
It’s off. No longer caring about delicacy, you fling it behind you.
There’s a clatter and a bang.
”You just… threw my peytral… into the armchair.”
She doesn’t sound like she cares much, which is good, because neither do you.
Freed from the constraining edge of the jewelry, your hands wander out over her body. Her wings shiver as you stroke them, then unfold. Seconds later, you feel her wingtips along your back as she pulls you into another hug.
The third time’s different, though – this time, your bare skin presses against her coat. She’s like the softest pillow you’ve ever had, slightly fluffy in places and body yielding to the press of your hands. There’s tension to her too, though: a sort of firmness to her ass and legs that makes it all the more enticing to squeeze and knead your fingers into her.
Your mouths find each other. She manages to lock you lips down first before her tongue moves in to stroke the tip of yours.
It’s like white-fire inside your head. Your tongue jerks slightly before moving back, eager for more.
The kiss goes on, tongues sliding over the tops of each other, playing a game of who’s sensitive where. You can feel her nose-breaths along your cheek, warm and damp, and the bounced-back heat of your own upon the other.
Eventually, you stop, the two of you breaking off to catch back your breaths. Her head nuzzles into yours, rubbing up the skin.
”Bed.” Her voice sounds husky, deep. “Now.”
You’re not one to argue. Things are getting pretty cramped down south.
You stand up and undress, shoes, socks, trousers and underwear tugged off as quickly as you can. Celestia walks past you in the time it takes you to do so, her wings still stretched out and her tail lifted.
You pause, one leg of your trousers off and the other bunched up in your hand. Her ass sways as you watch it, a tilt and judder to it that you can’t believe you’ve never noticed before. And every so often, as the flow of her tail just happens to float out of the way, a quick flash of pink against the white.
Your boxers cannot come off fast enough as Celestia climbs onto the bed. She turns in circles and sits, watching as you finish the act of undressing. The rest of her horseshoes, wreathed in yellow, bounce over to a distant corner.
”A little… different from a stallion’s, I see.”
The boxers land on the overturned armchair, capping the pile of your trousers and socks.
“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, Princess. I’ll have you know Anon Junior’s considered a giant amongst his people.”
You’re lying: you’re utterly average. Still, she doesn’t need to know that.
”I was talking about the shape. It looks a little smoother than I’m used to; no flare either, I see. That should make things interesting.”
You clamber up next to her, penis still standing to attention. Your hands reach back out to her, one stroking round her tummy whilst the other traces out her cutie mark. She sighs appreciatively and lies down, stretching herself out.
“Interesting’s what I attempt to be, Celestia.”
And you roll her onto her back.
She blinks up at you.
”I… Anonymous, what are you doing?” You blink back at her.
“I’m trying to have sex with you. What the hell are you doing?”
”This is not the position I would have chosen, but I suppose it is the one you are most familiar with, yes?”
Your brain puts two and two together. As far as you’re aware, ponies don’t do missionary.
“Right.” You back off a bit and she spins over, lying on her tummy this time. “This supervision thing’s really working out well for us, isn’t it.”
”Well, if you’re looking for tips… My breasts are located between my back legs, and I’m interested in seeing just what you can do to them with your fingers; my wings are not a sensitive spot no matter what pegasi tell you, but the flight muscles along my back are; I do enjoy having my mane pulled, but not the tail; and a quick squeeze of my ankles should work wonders.”
She looks back at you. “Are there any quirks to your species you’d like me to be aware of?”
You blink at her, a little caught off guard. “No, it’s… pretty much just put penis in vagina for us.”
She stands, ass rising to meet your face, before her front folds down, legs tucking up. “Well, then. Let’s get round to ‘penis in vagina’.”
You stand also, a throb of need making you just that harder. You grab a loose hold of her tail and direct it in an upwards stream, fully out of the way.
It looks like a pink sleeve, not similar to what you’re used to in the fine detail but pretty close in other ways. The edges are slick with lubricant, and a pink button you can only assume’s her clit flicks in and out sporadically at the bottom.
”Anonymous…”
You snap out of it, tearing your gaze away from the private parts of Celestia to see her mock-frowning up at you.
”If it’s rude to keep a lady waiting, how much ruder do you think it is to keep a princess?”
You think about starting to apologise, then stop.
No more waiting.
Your grip on her buttcheek tightens, sun cutie mark bulging between your fingers as your tip aligns with her entrance.
And you push forwards.
She’s not tight. She’s not loose, either, but you don’t meet much resistance sliding into her.
Well, not until you get about halfway in, anyway. And then holy balls, is it tight.
Your gasp is a loud thing, much louder than Celestia’s own moans.
“H-how are you doing that?”
”It’s my body, Anonymous, and it’s been mine for over a thousand years.”
Her walls slack then pull, dragging you further in like your dick’s trapped in a boiling hot version of quicksand.
”Is it really so surprising that I know exactly what to do with it?”
Her muscles flex against you, rubbing and squeezing in all the right areas. The softest hands or the most succulent lips couldn’t compare to the feelings her insides are milking from you: they don’t even start to come close. This is how angels fuck.
The tug and squeeze continues for a few moments more, and then you’re in, fully in, your pubes crushed up against her wet outer lips. You can feel the heat of her nethers against your thighs.
You move a hand down across her belly and circle a breast slowly, nudging the nipple every now and then. She responds with a moan and another soft squeeze of her insides.
You pull back out, make it halfway before it starts to feel unnatural to be out of her, and then puncture back inside, hard.
She grunts approvingly, and your fingers dart out, clenching her nipple and rolling it slowly back and forth.
Her insides go wild: they press down and release and then press down again. Something hot flows along your dick and then your thighs feel wet and sticky.
Confused, but still horny as all hell, you pause.
“You alright down there?”
She turns back towards you, panting, cheeks flushed. Her mane looks messy upon her head.
”Anonymous, how… how long do humans copulate for?”
“Was… that it for you?” She nods. “A lot, lot longer than that.”
She looks away. “I guess the sunrise will be late tomorrow, then.” Her eyes return to yours. “Don’t you dare stop.”
Yes ma’am.
You return to sliding in and out of her, building up a rhythm to your strokes.
Satisfied Celestia doesn’t need stabilised, you let loose the hand holding onto her butt. You reach for a wing – both standing out in a firm V of attention – and catch the main arm of it in between the crook of thumb and forefinger. Feathers bristling against your palm, you brush down till you reach her body, then slowly gather up skin, pulling at the subsurface muscles.
She hums a happy sound, rear rising to meet yours. Your hand judders against a teat as the two of you collide, the force just that more potent with her contribution.
You gasp, letting out your own tell of approval.
”Gotcha.”
She starts grinding against you, her pussy muscles holding you firmly in place as her body rubs up, down and around. You grunt more, breathing disturbed.
She’s winning. Can’t have that.
Your hand slides further down, your elbow meeting the top of her thigh. You catch her clit in-between your fingers.
Her breath’s sharp and her muscles release you for a second. You pull out, then push back in, fingers caressing her most sensitive spot all the while. There’re more flurries of movement from her insides, and you slow it down – not withdrawing entirely, but keeping it as gentle as you can.
”You have.. got to be… kidding me,” Celestia pants out. Her head’s crushed down into a pillow, her mane no longer rolling everywhere but slumped down next to her, covering off her ear. Her eye, lidded, rolls back to look at you.
You chuckle, amused. “Where’s my dignified princess, hmm?” You stroke the tip of your finger along her clitoris as it winks back inside her. Celestia’s eyes slip closed. “Is the big, bad human wearing her out? Can she not cope with the pleasure of being bred by him? Is it too much for her majesty to handle?”
”At least my species have talents beyond an inability to orgasm.”
“Ha! Well, if you’ve gotta have one…”
You pick the pace back up and run with it, the slap of your thighs against her butt a percussion beat whose tempo only gets faster. Shivers race along her white behind when you meet, and it is so, so tempting to slap it.
The dungeons are cold, though, and you don’t want to spend any more nights down there. You keep your hands occupied with her clit and back muscles.
What else did she say again? Wings and tits and mane and… Ah. You remember: Hooves.
Still keeping up the rhythm of thrust to thrust, you look down, past her backside and over to her quivering legs. There’s no way in hell you’re going to be able to get down there. You try anyway, one hand snaking down her waist until your stomach’s crushed against her back.
Not a chance in hell.
”F...Fr-ront legs!”
Oh. Right.
Your hands slide up and along her waist, a slight bulge of skin and fat proceeding. You reach her legs, move downwards and then squeeze. Celestia’s breath hitches, breaks and then shudders out into a swell of bliss. Your thumbs rub in circles round the back of her ankles as your fingers clutch and press. She’s making enough noise, now, that a part of you’s worried somepony’s going to hear; the rest of you’s more than happy to let her keep on shouting.
You can feel yourself getting close, her pleasured cries tugging you just that nearer to the edge. You let go of her legs, returning one hand to its place where the curve of her leg meets the tuck of her belly. Your other winds around her mane.
And pulls.
”Ah! Ahhh! AH!”
She cums one last time. Two more thrusts, and you join her, bodies crushed together as you fire into her interior.
The feeling is tension released, hot and sticky: pleasure unrefined – raw. You’re lost for a moment, the wine and orgasm combining to drag you from your body, leaving your movements with a murky, disjointed feel.
Celestia’s mane unwinds from out your hand, and her head, held up by it, slumps down into the pillow. Her backside follows, rear legs tucking in; you follow with her, still inside as her muscles keep their grip on you.
Coming to, you ease yourself from her. The outside air is cold and, without her support, your fall down next to her. “That was… good.”
”Hmm.” Celestia's body tilts, and her head comes into view, eyes still closed. “I don’t understand how the women on your planet can do anything. I’d declare tomorrow a national holiday if it weren’t too much trouble.”
You reach a hand over and push her mane away from her face, tucking it behind her ears and moving it out her eyes. She smiles and makes light noises under her breath.
“You look beat. Do you want me to go and fetch a towel or something to help you clean up with?”
There’s a pause before she manages to form a reply, and the words come slow and peaceful. “Anonymous, in a few minutes, I am going to be asleep. I am probably going to be asleep just long enough to make me tired and cranky for the rest of tomorrow.” She shuffles, moving closer to you. “The fact that I may start tomorrow smelling is the least of my worries.”
You smile and push yourself up into a sitting position, then stretch.
“I’d better be getting out of here, then. Probably not a good idea for people to catch me in the bedroom of the stinky princess.”
”No.” Her voice is soft, quiet. You look down to see her eyes half-open, slight slivers of pink against the white. “Stay.”
There’s no please, but she doesn’t speak it as an order or a request. It sounds almost like a wish.
You grant it, lying down beside her. Her head nuzzles towards you slowly before you grab a hold of her and slip her forwards. Her weight feels heavy upon your chest, and her mane is almost like a blanket.
Not truly a blanket, though. You look round and find the real one bunched up near your feet. You kick it up until you can catch a hold of it and cover both you and Celestia, leaving her head and your upper body bare. She’s asleep by the time you’ve done it. You stroke a hand across her mane, the afterglow and satisfaction from sex still flowing through you.
You stay that way until tiredness joins your drunken haze to pull you into sleep.
Your pillow’s trying to get away from you.
This is not good behaviour for a pillow to have.
Especially not at… god knows what time it is in the morning.
You hook your hands around it and drag it back into place, snuggling your face into the soft, furry warmth of it.
There. That’ll teach it.
”A–huuuhhhh!–non~”
Your pillow’s talking to you.
You open your eyes to see what it wants.
The tired face of Princess Celestia, undisputed top Princess of the pony land of Equestria, looks back at you, eyes only half-opened and mane a blur of disarray.
Memories of last night trickle back.
You let the pillow go.
She moves away, and you close your eyes. It must be sometime around dawn.
More memories of last night come back, and you know you’d be groaning if your mouth was in working order.
Did you really call her a…? And did she really…?
Did the two of you… Because of…
You roll off your side and onto your back, cursing wine, the ancient enemy.
Still, she didn’t seem that pissed to see you this morning.
Or very, very late night. Celestia hasn’t made the morning yet.
A smile spreads across your face as you remember other parts of the evening.
You’re fairly sure you managed charming, if not witty or debonair; the sex was not an experience you’d be opposed to redoing; and you weren’t locked up somewhere in a dungeon.
And you could be a father. The smile breaks open your mouth, revealing teeth as you beam up at the ceiling. You could be a father.
And you could make Celestia a mother.
The smile lowers from your face.
Would she still want that, though?
The two of you weren’t crazy drunk last night, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t alter your decisions.
Not terribly, no, but that’s you. You’ve no idea how badly it affected her.
You’re not sure why you’re worrying: you’re not the one who only has one option ahead of you.
But still… Celestia is Celestia. You’d prefer it to be her.
The room’s lighter when your eyes open. The sun must be up.
”Good morning.”
You look over to see Celestia, a golden bathrobe wrapped round her, watching you from the side of the bed.
“Are you asking for praise or just telling me what the time is?”
She chuckles, and climbs onto the bed.
“Or maybe it’s just how normal ponies say hello.”
“Not a pony.”
She lies down next to you, and nuzzles at your face. “I think we both got used to that fact last night.”
You cheer up.
“Yeah. Last night.”
”I will say this: it is nice to have a partner in my size range for once.” You look over to find her smirking. “Most have to use a stool.”
You feign hurt. “Most? Way to make a guy feel special, Princess.”
Her nose drifts up to your ear.
”You were the first in over a thousand years.”
“Really?” You feel her nod. “Huh. Anonymous, conqueror of the millennial dry spot. Doesn’t really have that much of a ring to it.”
“How about ‘Anonymous, consort of the sun?’”
You turn your head towards hers.
Her eyes are still half-closed with sleep dust, and the loose bundle her mane’s tied in holds it not at all. And yet, she’s never looked more beautiful.
“I’d like that.”
She smiles, and it’s an uneven, perfect thing.
”I suppose I’d like that too.”
