Author's Note

[Estrus] [M/f] [Male Prostitution]
[Sweetie Belle] [Diamond Tiara] [Big McIntosh]

The title for this fic did not come from the collab.

[NSFW] Business by anonymous

Sweat clung to her pale coat, heart steadily working its way into her throat as she searched through the busy market crowd. The trail had led her here, a rough smattering of shocked and outraged stallions among the many crowding mares had pointed an arrow in this general direction.

Her eyes caught on a tall red shape, the familiar farmstallion seated behind his creaky old apple-stall. “Big Macintosh!” Rarity cried out, running the last few steps to the stall, “Have you seen Sweetie Belle? I only lost sight of her for a moment and... and you know how fillies are on their first heat. All the stallions she pestered said she’d come this way, you must’ve seen her come by.”

Big Macintosh turned his head slowly, his eyes vaguely unfocused. A droplet of sweat rolled down the side of his neck, shaken loose by his sudden vigorous headbobbing. Rarity watched it fall, her gaze following it down the stallion’s belly and behind his stall...

...right to where her sweet little sister lay: On her back, fore and hindlegs clamped around the rigid girth of Macintosh’ fully-aroused erection. Her little tail flagged and danced against the underside of the thick stallioncock, loose hairs clinging to the area where she left the underside slick and gleaming with her aroused grinding. The ridge of the stallion’s urethra had become the target of her lust, soft-but-flushed labia pressed to either side with every motion of her twitching hindquarters, as if she were trying to merge with the too-grand erection through sheer osmosis.

Her little pink tongue flashed frantically along the tip, painting the head with her saliva, a rapidfire dabbing paused only to suckle at the opening from which she desperately tried to draw the stallion’s seed.

“Oh dear, this is the worst thing!” Rarity sputtered, her worst fears materialized before her, “I’m so terribly, terribly sorry. I was guarding her room, but I must’ve dozed off and-”. Coins clattered down on the stall’s wooden top. “-I’ll make it up to you. I’m so sorry! It’s been days and I just couldn’t stay awake. Please, don’t press charges, I’ll-” Rarity lit her horn, magic coalescing around Sweetie Belle’s little body in order to pry her loose from her friend’s big brother.

...but she hesitated. “I...” More coins joined the ones already in front of the apple stallion, “If I might be uncouth, perhaps... perhaps I could convince you to let my little sister stay latched on for a little longer? Just until she has what she needs. I... I really could use a couple days of quiet.”

There was a grunt from the stallion, barely a reply, a forehoof weakly pawing at the coins before his hips shook. The hefty orbs rose in anticipation moments before the length of his cock tightened, sending the first thick pulse of stallionseed gushing. Sweetie Belle hungrily pressed her lips to the thick head, white fluid leaving tracks from the corners of her mouth down to her throat when the sheer bounty of the stallion’s ejaculation completely overwhelmed her ability to swallow it all.

The little filly went limp just as the shaft she was embracing did, the retreating stallioncock leaving a trail of leftover seed down the length of her now-rounded belly, leaving the last few drops puddling in the little whorl of her navel.

“Thank you. Oh, thank you,” Rarity said, reaching down to cradle the little filly in her forelegs. “Out like a light. She must’ve been tired. That first heat is really hard on little fillies.” A tiny cum-perfumed belch from the filly brought a smile to Rarity’s face. “Now she’s satisfied, we can both get our beauty-sleep. At least for the next couple of days. Thank you.”

The unicorn mare turned, her little sister draped across her back, and began her journey home. Behind her, the somewhat-shocked Big Macintosh looked over his new financial windfall with a disturbed kind of bewilderment.

His little princess was talking, but Filthy Rich was having trouble really listening to what she was saying. He really should’ve been listening to his daughter like a proper, attentive parent, he understood that. She was suffering, after all. Standing outside his locked bedroom door, shrieking like a tortured banshee and scratching at the wood all night, every night had to have left the poor little dear’s sensitive little throat quite sore.

He ought to get her some lozenges, he concluded somewhere in the depth of his fatigue-fogged brain while dragging himself and his dear filly through the market.

A jealous shriek from his sweet little princess warned him just in time to brace, keeping himself from being dragged off as the leash suddenly went taut. His poor, suffering little girl’d probably spotted another mare with a stallion.

He turned his baggy eyes on the fiftieth disturbance of the day only to lay eyes on a familiar white unicorn. Who was that again? Ah yes, Rarity, the one who recently supplied many of the town with the same pants he wore today, the ones with the armored crotch. She was holding her own little filly.

...A smiling, content, sleeping filly, who was neither shrieking nor crying nor trying to claw her way to the nearest stallion. Sleeping. Quiet.

HOW!? The cry echoed through the broken halls of his brain, but his eyes were already searching. The tired-looking apple stallion, the large amount of money on the apple cart, the contented smile on the filly. Even under a thick blanket of fatigue, Filthy Rich knew an under-the-counter business transaction when he saw one.
Regardless of his cutiemark and his talent, his business sense was swiftly and brutally curbstomped by his desire for sleep, then promptly dragged into an alley for unmentionable purposes. Before he realized it, he’d dumped the entire contents of his bit-purse among the growing pile of coins and turned to his little filly:

“Look, my princess. Daddy’s rented you a stal-” the suddenly-frayed remains of the leash recoiled directly into his face.

Even with his cheek throbbing hotly, Filthy Rich found himself half-dozing as he leaned against the apple stall, reflecting on his deep affection for his daughter.

...and how much easier it was to love her when she was desperately trying to gag more of that sizable stallioncock into the only orifice which had even the vaguest chance of fitting it.

It’s a good thing my little princess is such a humble little filly, Filthy Rich could vaguely remember thinking to himself. She knows the value of subtlety over schoolground bragging rights.