Pleasured Viscera: Whispers Beneath The Boards

Noise snaked my ears, each instrument rung from meters and meters down. Thankfully, they didn’t know about the elevator. I fixed my vest, unsure of what to do first. Write a journal after all was said and done, or rape some of the soldiers. Silver’s call made me uneasy. I didn’t understand a word of it. Smoke and mirrors about making sure I ‘stayed awake at night’. Countless, clicking soldier boots disrupted my thoughts. Obnoxious, cluster-fucked armor noise made me twitch. My ear fluttered, sensitive and easily disoriented.

“You know the drill, boys…!” Echoed someone beefy and military.

“Search and destroy!” His rifles resounded, amazingly coordinated with their machismo ‘h’up, two’ chant.

Normally, when you have a smoke break, you don’t expect a sudden onslaught of military up your alley. I tried to rationalize why they’d even know about us. And then, I realized, maybe Silver Spoon was my handler. Just another traitor, I giggled, gritting my teeth. Grim grinning possessed my lips. Thankfully, I never took a job empty-mouthed.

Don’t. Even.

My hooves were gentle and barely made a whisper. Mostly because I felt the urge to empty my bladder. Not to run, but somehow slick the stairs. With no time at all, I did so, vigorous in rubbing my loin regions. Petals. Pucker. Prick. Sweet Celestia, I groaned, that did feel good. Steamy hoof-ambush layered the steps most probably‘rushed’, meaning the last, desperate few. Octavia’s boxed apple cider was a godsend.

Before I knew it, I hurried outside, shooting the knob without a way to exit. My hooves were definitely not tractioned. Red-striped thigh-highs weren’t very useful. Even if, secretly, I had a layer of cleats on each hoof.

“Octavia. We've got full-on military rushing up. I head pins jingling. Prob'ly heavy ballistics and shit.” Lily reported, talking her gruff, force-of-nature manner.

Lily’s message was fairly moot however, since her kemosabe boasted two, pre-readied pistol gauntlets. Pressurized plates and all with insensitive, yet functioning registry. Her mane kicked left, kissed by howling wind. I moved my lips, so to inquire the amassed shotgun missionaries. She covered by lips, gesturing 'up'. Our entire cloaking set-up was sabotaged. Someone, whoever the fuck it was, knew exactly what to sever. Our lights were compromised efficiently. The second component, I knew from no glass on that roof, was severing the mirror-bed's ties. Enough, I noted, facing the inevitable entry point.

"No...!" Octavia stressed, but, soon softening her blue-blooded features.

"No- we need to find an escape route. We're assassins, Dollie. Not soldiers."

Yes. Yes, what was I thinking. We scrambled somewhere convenient, normally accompanied by rickety, metallic pseudo-stairways. The sides of our apartment complex, however, had no such escape routes. It used to, but, someone foiled our contingency plan. My life as I knew it didn't flash before my eyes because I wasn't afraid of dying. The least I could do was... keep her safe. My eyes grew wide as something vibrant bloomed. Beneath my sternum, something warm slept inside. Was that goodness, my heart whispered. Kindness.

Lily watched the clouds, gently commenting on all their horrible mishaps.

"We have to get you out of here." The mare murmured, letting their eyes meet.

Swirling grey-blue of arctic hue. Oily, polluted fish eyes watching the world pass and finally, maybe, watching the sun rise. Though I wished I was Lily, I wished I were Octavia. Quiet, hopeful water glazed her mulberry eyes. Did she feel proud. Maybe, awed by Lily's faith in angel's flame. They were strangers at best. Maybe, perhaps, best friends to winter's end. Her pink-maned associate watched the world below. Fascinating, she whispered noiseless, speaking one, last time.

"'The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep. And miles to go before I sleep.'"

She loaded another magazine.

"And miles to go before I sleep."

Lily gripped her mouth pistol, sure everything worked in order. Everything except her fear centers. Her sweetest friend had promises to keep. The morning dew coated our boots and, carefully, we crept over loose, shifting stones. Pebbles. Disheveled pieces worthless by their own merit. She heard a click and soon, everything stormed.

They poured like ants. Two, four, six eight. We flared our muzzles hot and righteous, each bullet neck-to-fountain spray. Each hoof combat met with sweeps, sternum-stomps and joint-based gunfire. Though these were trained, battle-hardened stallions, we were artists of death. Crack the elbows, overload the joint's natural direction and snap. Charge, strafe and flank hip-regions for stunning potential. Octavia, I saw across Lily's martial predicament, fired round after round in such harmonic timing, I swore she was Nemesis. Just another goddess punishing the wicked. Her mane stayed tucked and close, curling about her right foreleg base. We suffered blows and bullets. Lily herself broke legs and skulls. But, her preference lay in aggressive point-blank shooting. A reckless tactic, but a useful feign-strike trickery. She'd rush a bull charge, only to 'fall' and shoot more aggressive assailants. Through her eyes, I noticed several flank-based injuries. There were bloody gashes from C7 bayonet strikes, then lead-kissed entries from combustion anger.

Octavia, sweetest death, watched the sun bloody. We were often circling to weave the crowd, back-to-back without full intimacy. Her strikes were harsh and piercing. Lily's happened to be stunning. Forceful, but more to down ponies rather than hurt them. Every, single execution happened over her target. So to watch them die, her tongue lolled and sweet, iron-laced satisfaction washed her sins. Red viscera seeped below the vest and stuck fur with armor. Then, in opportunity, I saw my cock unsheathe.

Three were left. Among the rib-caged slaughter. Among a carnage I relished.

We struck him cheek-first, spinning the leader imbalanced. I followed with a left jab rib smash. He grunted without wind, wobbling violently from previously-ignored wounds. Adrenaline subsided and, though Lily felt sluggish and cozy, she bent him over a ventilation component. A sweet, girlish grin eased her lips. We bunched his mane, soft amber and oiled with sweat. The soldier struggled and grunted, but, all fifteen inches breached our victim. We shivered, bucking to heart's delight, pinning the bitch stomach-to-platform. His struggle was weak and tired, arms heavy with severe blood leakage.

A soft, almost playful headlock took his neck.

"So fuckin' tight, baby~ You don't like it in the ass, do you~?" I teased, watching his cherry cheeks burn and curse.

"Fuck off-! Fuck off, you freak!"

She tongue-bathed his neck, nipping and sucking every which region, pressing canines just for kink. His boypussy puckered and sucked, legs-jerking under alpha-male domination. I loved his hips. His thin, boyish fuck-handles and lurching stomach musculature. Lily's humping was fluid. Grinding. I heard him half-moan, shaking in wet, sloppy impalement. I creamed his tummy, forcing a warm, sloppy kiss. He jerked away. I wanted him to cum.

"Ho~? Did I finish early~ Let me fix that..." Lily hushed, slow-pounding her traumatized submissive.

He tensed, wide-eyed and growling. The incubus mare, so wrongly in a female's body, nibbled his drooping, twitch-prone ear. I drooled deep inside, slopping my coltslut back and forth, banging him base-deep like we were mates for life. Lily, sweet as sin, steamed his cheeks. Long, airy pants fucked his ears. We shut our eyes. We gripped whatever we could because were close.

"A-aahyeah~ A-aah, fuck~ You like bein' my little toy, babe~? I never had a soldier before~"

"...! U-ugh~! U-unnh- shit-!" The alpha grunted, scrunching hot in dense, striking intrusions.

I watched his hips quake. Lily forced another, uninhibited kiss. We were yummy and satisfied all over, even resting in post-coitus fallout. The colt I fucked, I learned was named 'Crooked Crossfire'. He told me after the little blow I let him pace~ Crossfire was amazingly cute. The way his stern emeralds pierced my own, I really started to melt. There was nothing hotter than making a colt like it and feeling his tongue. Most might've bit, but, he was hungry. Maybe, I teased, Crooked had a mane-tugging fetish. He sighed, looking far, far away.

"You're not that good..." My coltfriend muttered, letting me bob him all over after that little 'masochism'~

I gasped, just barely above his tongue. We loved being marked by someone else. Crooked Crossfire shut his eyes, licking my apex like one, gooey escort. Though I forced a gentle, tip-submerged drinking, he swallowed every, last drop. Grizzled, but huffing his lungs out, my stallion mate took a smoke break and, strangely, collapsed on-puff. Lily loved that muscle-bound stranger, even kissing him a few, more times. We lay atop him, snuggled and warmly grinning.

Octavia, on the other claw, beside glancing away in rapid insecurity, made a call.

"I... I don't care. I don't care if you think... she's a monster. You told me to see for yourself. I see why you'd say so. Or, why you'd hunt me down, Mr. Rich. But, I won't listen. You said there was no hope for change and no hybrid could evolve past savagery- but, you're wrong. Rape is horrible. It's a sin most foul even by murder. I know it is because rape is staining the soul. That doesn't mean she can't change. We can all change, but, we need that light in our lives."

My angel huffed with soft, airy finality.

"You sent assassins, double agents and handlers... But, did you ever give her friends. Family. Did you ever spoil her and show her what being a pony really is? No- no, you never did, did you."

"..."

"I thought so. Just another six-digit number, eh old salt? Ponies like you make me sick. I will not let you take her. She's so sick and damaged, I-I can't even begin to think that maybe, you've a shred of humanity in that cold, black heart. We're done, Mr. Rich. Absolutely over."

I watched her shake and kneel. Lily smiled and called her over.

"Who were you talkin' about?"

Slowly, I saw her glumness dissipate. And, though she couldn't grin or chuckle, I watched her looming, red-eyed smile.

"N-nopony, little Dollie. Just a friend of mine."

"Can I meet her someday?" Lily inquired, lips-parted in gentle curiosity.

"Someday, little flower." Octavia hushed, leasing firm her weighted gauntlets.

"... Someday."