Milk-A-Mare

“Come on, Anon, it’s not that bad,” Gleaming says as she steps off of the train. The platform is almost empty; barely any ponies are waiting for the train. Though, considering how early it was, that was probably to be expected. After all, the sun had only risen twenty or so minutes ago.

You step out after her, grumbling softly. Your suit is wrinkled, your tie hanging loosely around your neck. It was too early to be up, but you had to catch the early train out of Canterlot.

“Easy for you to say,” you grouse. “You aren’t going to be staying out here in the middle of nowhere.”

“Neither are you,” Gleaming says. “Think of this as... an extended vacation.” She perks up, smiling happily. “Yeah, that’s it! An extended vacation. At least until Princess Luna has calmed down.”

“It’s not my fault that she takes everything I say personally,” you huff, taking a sip of your coffee. Your lift the cup to your lips and take a taste, only to wince as the hot liquid burns your lips. “I’m telling you, she has it out for me.”

“You’re just imagining things,” Gleaming sighs, shaking her head. “She’s still adjusting from her banishment.”

“Adjusting my ass,” you mutter under your breath.

“Oh, cheer up, Anon,” she says, her smile returning. “Ponyville is a nice, quiet town. The locals are friendly, the food is good, and I’m sure you can find something fun to do to pass the time. If you’re having troubles, my sister lives in the local library. You can pay her a visit. I’m sure she can help you find something to do.”

You open you mouth to say something snarky, but the sound of someone clearing their throat stops you. Glancing over your shoulder, you see one of the baggage ponies standing behind you. He motions towards a large crate just off to the side.

“Is this your luggage, sir?” he asks, sounding slightly out of breath.

You glance at the crate before nodding, a blank look on your face. “Yeah, that’s mine.”

“It’s kinda heavy,” the stallion says, not looking away from you.

You nod again, taking another sip of coffee. “That it is.”

An awkward silence fills the air as you stare at one another.

“...if you don’t mind me asking, what’s in it?” the stallion inquires, tilting his head to the side.

You chew on the inside of your cheek. “Stuff.”

“Stuff?” the stallion repeats, cocking an eyebrow.

You nod.

“...and things.” You resume staring at each other. Gleaming glances back and forth between the two of you, a bemused look on her face. She shakes her head, sighing softly.

“Stallions,” she huffs under her breath.

Across the platform, a whistle blows loudly. The noise causes the stallion to jump, and he glances at the large clock in the center of the station. His eyes widen in alarm.

“Uh, nevermind, I got to go,” he says, quickly turning and hurrying off towards the front of the train. You watch him go, a smug smile on your face.

“I can’t believe you brought that with you,” Gleaming says, eyeing the large box.

“I wasn’t going to leave it at the castle,” you say, moving behind it and grabbing the dolly’s handles. “Can you imagine what the batponies would have done to it? It would be destroyed within a week. Besides,” you laughed as you begin to push the box out of the train station, “I risked my life to get it back from Luna. I’m taking it with me when I flee. Spoils of war, bitch!”

“I highly doubt you’re going to need it here,” Gleaming snorted as she walked along beside you.

“You’re just mad that it won’t be close by for your use,” you snicker, smirking at her. She pouts, her ears splaying back.

“That’s not true,” she whines. Then, in a quieter tone, she adds, “I’m more bummed that you won’t be there to do it. I wasn’t kidding when I said the stallions in the guard are jerks.”

You glance over at her, your smirk turning into a soft smile.

“It’s only for three months,” you say. “I’ll be back before you know it.” She smiles back before gently bumping your hip with her shoulder. With that, the two of you head off down the road, heading for Ponyville. You follow Gleaming’s lead, as she knows where to go, having been informed by the Solar Princess earlier this morning about your living arrangements.

In realizing that Luna was going to tear you a new one, Princess Celestia had opted to rent you a small house on the outskirt of Ponyville for the next couple of months. You’d be able to hide out there, away from Luna, until such time as the heat died down. Celestia had placed several advanced spells upon the property that would protect you from Luna’s dream-watching abilities, and would hide you from her scrying attempts.

For lack of a better term, it was now your safehouse for the next couple of months.

Ponyville was starting to wake up as both you and Gleaming enter town, ponies just leaving their homes to start the work day. You get some strange looks aimed in your direction, but that was to be expected. Most ponies knew you existed, but since you rarely left the castle grounds or the surrounding area, they've never really seen you before. However, they still manage to smile and wave in greetings as you pass. In fact, it appears that the crate you are hauling is more cause for curiosity than you are yourself.

As you pass through town on your way to your new living arrangement, you glance around, observing the various activity around you. The local bakery has its windows open and the delicious smell of baked goods is beginning to fill the air. A large red stallion and a smaller orange mare appear to be setting up their stand for the day. A trio of fillies race by, as in the distance the sound of a school bell can be heard. Far above, a lone cloud drifts lazily through the air, a rainbow tail dangling off the edge.

All in all, it’s surprisingly peaceful; not at all like the busy, crowded streets of Canterlot. And unlike Canterlot, everyone appears to have smiles on their faces, instead of their muzzles in the air.

You are beginning to like this place already. Even more so when you catch sight of the local brewery’s window sign, claiming ‘50% off of all purchases of wine and liquor’.

Yeah, you are going to like it here.

Leading you through the marketplace, Gleaming turns and heads down a road that appears to lead to the residential part of town. House dotted the sides of the road, white fencing separating individual yards.

Sitting on the porch of one of the houses, an aquamarine unicorn is tinkering with what looks like a harp. Upon seeing you, her eyes widen and she waves enthusiastically, a large smile on her face. A few houses down, you spy a gray pegasus with a blonde mane exiting the front door, a mailbag draped over her shoulders. She has a muffin crammed in her mouth, and appears to be in a hurry as she rushes past, nearly tripping over her dragging mailbag. The house across the street from hers appears to be vibrating slightly, the dull, rhythmic thumping coming from somewhere inside.

As you walk down the lane, you try and determine which house is yours. None of them particularly stand out to you as one that Celestia would pick. However, Gleaming ignores all of them, continuing down the lane and past the last few houses, heading towards Whitetail Woods.

“I thought you said I was staying in Ponyville,” you say to Gleaming, cocking an eyebrow.

“You are,” she replies, not glancing back as she continues to walk along.

“Then why are we leaving?” you ask, peering back over your shoulders at the shrinking houses in the distances.

“The house is located on the outskirts of town, almost at the border of Whitetail Woods,” Gleaming explains. “Near enough to town that it isn’t too much of a hassle to walk, but far enough away that you’ll have some privacy.”

“Oh…” you say before falling silent, walking behind Gleaming and pushing your box along.

True to her words, it takes the both of you only three minutes to reach your destination. Rounding the bend of a decent-sized hill, the place you will be staying for the next couple of months comes into view, nestled snugly amongst the rolling hills and trees.

You pause, staring at it for a few seconds before glancing down at Gleaming. She’s standing beside you, biting her bottom lip.

“It looks… nice,” she offers weakly, ears splaying back.

Nice was putting it generously. The place is a dump. It was rundown; pieces of wood missing from the siding. The roof was beginning to sag a little, and the whole thing looks like it's leaning to the left. The door is held up by a single hinge, rusted and crumbling.

“...um,” you say before falling silent, unsure of what you are looking at.

“Well, this is the place,” Gleaming says with a forced laugh.

“Nice to see Celestia spared no expense,” you grumble. Gleaming gives you a sheepish grin and you shake your head, sighing loudly, before walking up to your new home.

Parking the crate in front of the house, you proceed up the steps onto the rotting porch. The old wood creaks beneath your feet as it strains to bear your weight.

“At least you have something to do over the next couple of months,” Gleaming says as she moves to stand beside the crate. “You can fix up this house to pass the time!”

“Yippie,” you reply with a roll of your eyes. Pushing the door open carefully, you see that the inside of the house is in the same state as the outside. Cobwebs and dust covered everything. Thankfully, there didn’t appear to be any mold present.

“Well,” Gleaming says slowly, taking a step back, “I’d love to stay and help, but I’m needed back in Canterlot. Sooo, yeah… Bye!”

You turn in time to see a dust cloud disappearing in the distance, a familiar two-toned blue tail just visible. Narrowing your eyes, you shake your head before turning your attention back to the shack. You run an eye over it again, chewing thoughtfully on the inside of your cheek.

“It could be worse, Anon,” you mutter to yourself. “It could be a lot worse.”

You eye the building for a few more seconds before sighing explosively. Approaching your bags, which Gleaming had thankfully left beside the crate, you open up the largest one and begin to fish around inside.

“Pants, shirt, pillow,” you list off under your breath as you dig deeper. Pausing, you pull out a pair of pink, silk panties and give them a confused look. “These aren’t mine,” you say to yourself, turning the article of clothing over in your hands.

Upon seeing the familiar blue shield with three stars above it, you huff and roll your eyes.

“Gleaming Shield’s underwear,” you grunt as you toss them back into the bag. How they got in there, you don’t know, but you’ll have to return them next time you see them. You pause, a bemused look crossing your face as you lift your head. You didn’t even know why ponies had panties; they walked around naked to begin with.

Pushing the thought aside, you roll up your sleeve and plunge your arm into the bag up to your elbow. It takes you a few seconds to finally find what it was you were looking for, but when you do, you pull it out with a cry of triumph.

Studying the small sign in your hands carefully—checking for any damage—you run a finger over the engraved words upon its surface. Satisfied that it was in good condition, you pull a hammer and nail out of a side pocket on the suitcase. You stand up, dusting off your pants, and approach the shack.

Carefully, as to not overly damage the old wood, you nail the sign to one of the supporting beams of the porch. One good hit was all it took to sink the nail into the wood.

Stepping back, you eye the sign, taking in the bold, black letters.

Anon’s Milk-A-Mare

“Where the best drinks are made!”

You stare at the sign for a few more seconds before nodding.

“If anything, it’ll make a nice conversation starter,” you say as you pack up the hammer. Lifting your bags over your shoulder, you push the crate up, over the lip of the porch, and into the house. Carefully closing the door behind you, you move further into the living room.

Parking the crate in front of the crumbling fireplace, you toss your bags onto the moth-eaten couch, causing a large cloud of dust to erupt into the air. You cover your mouth quickly, but it is too late; you already have a lungful of dust for your troubles.

Coughing and hacking, you stumble towards one of the cracked windows and force it open. You quickly stick your head outside, gasping for fresh air.

“First things first, dust everything!” you wheeze.

You pull your head back inside—tugging the neck of your shirt up over your nose—and proceed towards your bag again, intent on retrieving a dusting rag. Unzipping the bag, you just start to reach inside when a muffled 'thud' causes you to pause. You glance up, trying to locate the source of the noise. It happens again, and you turn, glancing over your shoulder at the large crate behind you. The soft sound of thumping was coming from it; something hard tapping against the inside.

Your brow furrowing, you turn to face the crate fully. Reaching out, you grab ahold of the latch, but pause as the tapping noise happens again; a sharp vibration reverberating up your arm. A low hiss reaches your ear, causing your to frown. Is something wrong with your machine? Was it damaged during transport?

Your eyes narrow. Did Luna do something to it?

Steeling yourself for whatever was inside, you undo the latch and quickly swing the crate door open. Your look of concentration turns into shock at the sight that greets you.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you moan as you close your eyes, praying that they were playing tricks on you. That, or the dust cloud knocked you unconscious due to lack of oxygen, and this was a dream.

However, upon opening your eyes again, you confirm that it isn’t a dream, and what you are seeing is real.

There, perched upon your milking machine, tucked snugly within the crate, is a batpony. Her mane is disheveled, and she appears to be sitting at an odd angle. Wings flared as wide as was possible within the confined space, the leathery skin is smushed up against the wooden sides in a manner that looked uncomfortable. Her hind hooves are tucked up next to her head and her tail is flagged to the side, revealing her inflamed marehood. Her breasts are swollen as well, and, due to the pressure on them due to her hind legs, are dribbling a steady stream of milk. The musky scent of arousal suddenly assaults your nose now that the crate is open.

You note that the batpony has one of the machine’s teat cups shoved up her winking marehood, her juices dripping down the plastic tubing and onto the floor of the clear. One of her hind legs is twitching and spasming, causing the tapping noise you had heard as the hoof knocked against the wood.

“Seriously!?” you groan, staring at the mare with a mixture of anger and bewilderment.

She just adjusts her position, causing the teat cup to sink further into her depths with a wet-sounding 'schlink'. She moans happily, rubbing at her winking clit with a hoof.

“It’s not even on!” you cry.

“Doesn’t… matter…” she pants, a look of exhausted satisfaction on her face. “Totally… worth it…”